I grab her and hold her tight.
‘You’re mine,’ I insist. ‘Adarna, fly.’
Finally, Adarna shoots up to the roof of the cavern and doesn’t stop. We yell, clutching on to the bird as it takes to the air. We’re going so fast, the water doesn’t have time to catch up with us. We blast right through, breaking the surface and breaching like a whale. We gasp, grit and sand and water sloughing off us. It shakes its feathers and beats its wings, shrieking into the daylight. It flicks water from its ears. I’ve never seen a bird’s ear before. It’s a strange little thing, a fleshy layered orifice. Adarna’s voice echoes across the expanse of the water as it struggles to maintain height, a shrill chattering squawk.
My ears pop from the change in pressure. My blood feels like it’s fizzing. The layers of stone crack and break, slipping off my skin and into the water. The Maelstrom churns beneath us, and the daylight is golden and blue, wisps of cloud moving gently across the sky. I didn’texpect to survive this. My stomach roils as Adarna finds its course, and we hold on for dear life.
‘Where are we going?’ Ris yells.
Adarna dances deadly in swirls and acrobatics through the air, and we hold on, feathers fluttering in the breeze. It feels like the brief moment I inhabited the insect back at the Bastion library, being one with the mind of a creature that could take wing. The freedom to slough off my human form, floating weightless in the air propelled only by instinct.
Adarna’s heart beats steadily as it flies with determination, and I can feel it pulse along my body. The others are just a thought in the back of my mind as I try to maintain a course, wind whipping my hair and face. It takes everything in my will to keep Adarna from bucking us off.
‘Where is it going?’ Finlyr asks.
The expanse of water that took weeks to traverse is visible below us, whipping by faster than I can see it. Paranish comes into view in the distance. I understand now the tales they tell children about the great otter-cat whose paw print marked our land: the pad and four digits of our isles. The hill, which houses the Bastion on the mainland. And then the four seasonal isles, with their distinct colours. “The winter storm; golds and reds of autumn; the clear blue waters of summer; and the verdant green of spring.”
As we get closer, the bird dives lower, and we shriek to hold on.
Adarna descends rapidly through the clouds, and I shiver, the skin on my arms gooseflesh. We emerge through the cold current onto Aistra, and I only have a few moments to survey the temple before the bird lands, sending dirt and snowfall flying. The smell of scorched bark lingers in the air, and I hold back my nausea as my feet hit the ground. I run to the Tree, heedless of everyone and everything else.
The bark is blackened and burned, cracked through the centre like lightning has struck it. The earth where I lay is still disturbed, showing the remnants of my escape.
‘What are you doing here?’
I turn and find Salvacion leaning against an archway. Her face is bruised and swollen, so much so that I recognise her initially by her Seaguardian uniform, which is torn and dishevelled.
‘Salvacion?’ I ask, approaching her. ‘What happened?’
Her eyes are molten as she staggers towards me. ‘How dare you return!’
I turn my body to shield Raina. Then Ris is between us, and Salvacion backs down, light and recognition flooding across her face, and she pulls Ris into an embrace.
‘I never thought I’d see you again,’ she says, then draws away with a groan, clutching her side. ‘What in Aistra is that thing?’ She indicates Adarna, eyeing it warily.
‘A powerful weapon,’ I say.
‘You’re hurt. What happened to you?’ Ris asks, supporting Salvacion’s weight.
‘Why don’t you ask the priestess?’ Salvacion asks derisively.
‘You two know each other?’ I ask, bewildered.
‘What does she mean, Hanan?’ Ris stares at me, confused and afraid.
I look around at the scorched Tree, and the blood smeared on the stones of the temple. ‘I don’t know,’ I say quietly. ‘I don’t know what happened after I left.’
‘You weren’t here to face her wrath,’ Salvacion says, closing her eyes in pain.
‘What did she do?’ I ask, my voice brittle.
‘She tried to burn the Tree. And when that didn’t work, she demanded the Temple Mothers destroy it.’
‘But they couldn’t,’ I whisper.
‘It was like what happened with you and that Temple Sister.’
‘Malostra.’ Her name slips out before I’m conscious of it.
