Page 42 of In Your Light

He waited for a flurry of leaves or a whip of cold wind... but there was nothing. Only silence in these too-quiet woods. Even the river had grown quiet, as if waiting for him to find his true form. To be his true self.

He put his hands back on the tree trunk and closed his eyes.

This forest was old. The earth and the river, this mountain that Cern called home, was ancient.

He let his forehead rest on the bark and inhaled deeply. And then he listened.

To mortal ears, there would only be silence, but beneath his palm, the tree breathed. Though there was a heartbeat, the pulse impossibly slow. Memories coursed through the roots and into the ancient earth, and he listened.

But not with his ears as he’d been trying.

He felt it in his core, a vibration, a spark that ran along his veins. He could feel it, could see it in his mind, how it raced through him and became him, all leading to a single point. Rushing through his blood, like lightning along a wire, racing to his mind, and he knew—he knew—he was close.

The sparks raced to their end, all clearly intending to meet in his mind, and he knew that when all the sparks converged, it would happen.

He would remember. His body would recall the pathway to his true form.

So close, so very close.

But just as the sparks were about to collide, it was as if they imploded inwards. A snap, a vacuum, and the sparks, the ancient memory from this ancient earth, was gone.

Hadeom sagged against the tree, exhausted. But he smiled.

He remembered now. It had been so close, he almost touched it. He remembered how to do it.

He’d almost done it.

His body remembered what it had to do.

He gave a grateful nod to the tree for its strength, its patience, and he went inside to sleep.

Chapter

Eleven

FYN

Fyn was up early, too excited to sleep. His little house was quiet, the village still asleep, the forest at his back door peaceful. He made some hot tea and had some of the fruit that Dylan had given him.

He walked down to the water, smiling at the grey skies and low mist. It was serene here.

The water was unlike anything he’d ever seen, dark and glimmery, and thicker, somehow. It didn’t move the way water should, but it was beautiful.

“Fancy a swim?”

Fyn turned to see Sawyer walking over, a steaming coffee in his hand. He wore a heavy dark blue coat, a beanie pulled low on his head, and black boots.

Ciaran followed not far behind him, wearing only swimming trunks.

“Morning,” Fyn said. “I don’t think I could swim in here. I’m not used to water this deep. The river at the camp is quite shallow. Not deep like this.” He looked down at the soupy water again. “And it’s...”

“It’s beautiful,” Sawyer said, smiling behind his cup. “I can’t wait to get back in.” Ciaran grumbled behind him, and Sawyer laughed. “Oh, shush. I already promised to quit on the idea of a submarine.”

Fyn laughed. “A what?”

“A single-person submarine,” Sawyer explained. Then he rolled his eyes. “Like it’s dangerous, or something.”

Ciaran kissed the side of Sawyer’s head, then gave Fyn a smile. “I thought you were heading up to see Zaq today?”