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I shoved the key into the ignition. The engine roared to life, its headlights cutting through the gathering fog of the redwood forest as I backed out of the space and swung the Suburban onto the highway.
The sun had completely set, leaving the world wrapped in a midnight-blue haze. The coastal highway stretched out before us—a narrow, winding ribbon of black asphalt between the colossal redwoods on the right and the roaring, white-capped waves of the Pacific Ocean on the left.
Inside the cab, the mood settled into a quiet, intense focus.
Dax was lounging in the front seat, cautiously testing the cushion of his cloud-shoes while keeping a watchful eye out the window for more “yoga moms.” Mal leaned his head back against the leather seat, listening to the steady hum of the tires, while Manem sat stoic near the rear door, staring out at the dark ocean waves.
And in the rear-view mirror, Caspian’s eyes were locked onto mine.
The miles melted away beneath the heavy rubber tires as we crossed the state line into Oregon, pushing deeper into the thick coastal fog, heading straight toward the petrified roots of the Neskowin Ghost Forest—and the light-drinking spear waiting beneath the waves.
FORTY-TWO
The lilac light of dawn did not pierce the Oregon fog; it merely turned the swirling mist into a glowing, ethereal wall.
By six in the morning, the heavy Suburban was cruising along the final winding stretch of the highway toward Tillamook County. Outside, giant Sitka spruces towered over the asphalt like ancient guardians, their needle-laden branches dripping with heavy coastal condensation that hit the windshield in quiet, rhythmic taps.
Inside the cab, the heavy silence of the night drive began to break as the males started to stir.
Dax shifted in the passenger seat, letting out a long, dramatic yawn that ended in a jaw-cracking pop. In the backseat, the leather bench groaned as Caspian adjusted his broad frame, his shoulders brushing against Mal’s as he stretched his long legs into the narrow space. Manem remained rigid, his dark eyes blinking away sleep with the vigilance of a warrior who hated resting in foreign territory.
I leaned over the steering wheel, tapping the voice icon on the center console.
“Hey Siri,” I called out softly, my voice raspy from hours of driving. “Play late nineties, early two-thousands pop.”
The phone screen lit up, and a second later, the smooth, acoustic guitar intro of the Backstreet Boys’ “I Want It That Way” began to filter through the Suburban’s speakers.
“You are my fire... The one desire...”
The reaction inside the vehicle was instantaneous.
Manem’s hand snapped straight to his concealed dagger beneath his canvas jacket, his posture locking into a defensive wire. “Is this a battle chant?! Who sings of fire in a metal carriage?!”
Dax leaned toward the dashboard, his eyes wide with a hilarious mixture of awe and utter confusion. “Tauriel... is this a courtly bard? Why are five different male voices harmonizing inside the dashboard? Are they trapped in the engine?”
I couldn’t help it. A sudden, breathless giggle escaped my lips—a sound so bright and genuine that even Caspian tilted his head in the rear-view mirror, his royal blue eyes softening as he watched my reflection.
“They aren’t trapped in the engine, Dax,” I laughed, shaking my head as I kept my hands on the wheel. “It’s a band. The Backstreet Boys. It’s a popular song from years ago.”
“Tell me why... Ain’t nothing but a heartache...”
“Tell him why what?” Mal chimed in from the back row. He leaned forward, resting his forearms on the console between Caspian and me. “What is a heartache? Is this male lamenting a failed blood-vow? Why does he keep demanding they tell him why?”
“It’s about a broken relationship, Mal,” I wheezed, another fit of giggles bubbling up in my chest. “He wants emotional clarity.”
“He sounds remarkably whiny for a bard,” Manem growled, though he didn’t pull his dagger. “If a male in the vanguard sang of his desires so loudly in camp, the Captain would assign him latrine duty.”
Caspian let out a low, gravelly hum in the center seat, his royal blue eyes fixed on my laughing profile in the mirror. “Let the bards sing, Manem. She likes the rhythm.”
As the song faded into a Britney Spears track, Dax leaned his forehead flat against the passenger glass, staring up through a break in the dense forest canopy.
High above the mist, cutting through the lilac morning sky, a massive commercial airliner streaked past, leaving a long, white trail across the heavens.
Dax’s jaw dropped. He pointed a frantic finger through the glass.
“Tauriel! Look!” Dax yelled, his voice cracking with sheer disbelief. “A metal bird! Look at the size of that beast! It flies as high as a dragon!”
He whipped his head toward me, his eyes burning with sudden, indignant realization. “If your realm has giant metal birds that fly above the clouds, why in the nine hells did you make us squeeze our legs into this cramped iron cart for six hours?! Why didn’t we just fly on the bird?!”
