Not a question. A statement of fact. Zach nodded. No hesitation. “I don’t think it’s meant to stay.”
David made a sound somewhere between acknowledgment and frustration. “You’re saying that thing just… appeared, did its job, and disappeared?”
“Something like that.” Zach ducked under a low-hanging branch, his hand checking the knife at his hip. Old habits. “It wasn’t the stone.”
Nick’s eyebrow lifted fractionally. “No?”
“No.” Zach paused, searching for words to explain something he didn’t fully understand himself. Something that existed outside his framework of threat assessment and tactical planning. “It was what was behind it.”
His meaning settled between them. Heavy. Undeniable.
“The Red Veil,” David said quietly. “The legends Ana-Luz told Emma.”
Zach’s jaw tightened at Emma’s name. At the memory of her facing down an assassin.
Thank God. Thank… whatever power intervened.
“I think the Red Veil legend was from the last time someone used the Windstone. The story got… enhanced over the years,” Zach said. “Think of the stone like a gun. By itself it can’t do anything. Someone, something, has to pull the trigger.”
Zach cleared his throat. “Whatever is behind it, it chose Emma.”
Nick studied him with those sharp eyes that missed nothing. Not skeptical—couldn’t be, not when all three of them possessed abilities they couldn’t explain, gifts they’d been born with orgiven through means they didn’t understand. But thoughtful. Measuring.
“You believe that,” Nick said. Not quite a question.
“I know it.” Zach met his brother’s gaze. “Marcus planned to use the hurricane to hide his actions. But out on the cliffs…” he swallowed. “The storm did what Emma needed. It circled around her, around me, and only affected Marcus. Once he was gone…”
“It’s gone,” David said. “Dissolved back to sand.”
“For now.” Nick’s voice carried the weight of knowing. “You said the Windstone wasn’t in the chamber when you studied the cave, but it was there when Emma needed it.” He looked at Zach again, and something in his expression shifted. Softened. “Maybe it only appears when it’s needed.”
Zach remained silent, considering.
It fit.
The cliff came into view through the vegetation. The path narrowed, forcing them into single file. Zach took point, his eyes scanning the cliffside even as his mind replayed Emma’s voice—steady despite her pain, resolute despite her fear—as she begged him to stay with her.
I trust you.
Three words. Simple and absolute.
He’d meant them then. Meant them now.
The cave entrance appeared ahead, and Zach’s steps slowed as he scanned the damage.
Partially collapsed.
Rocks had shifted, and debris blocked most of the opening. Water still dripped from somewhere above, a steady plink-plink-plink that echoed in the sudden stillness.
It felt… altered. Changed.
Like something fundamental had shifted in the island’s bones.
Zach approached slowly, aware of Nick and David stopping several paces back. Their presence was solid behind him, but they didn’t follow. Didn’t speak.
They understood this wasn’t their moment.
He ducked through the remaining opening, careful of loose rock, his knife hand free even though no threat awaited him here. The cave air was cooler, damp, carrying the mineral odor of underground places. Dim light filtered through cracks in the collapsed sections, painting the interior in shades of shadow and stone.
