Page 12 of The Shadowbound and the False God

“Far Sight, Ash,” Rodney muttered under his breath. He eyed the Silver Saints cautiously.

“You have yet to tell us anything at all.” Raif spoke up from where he leaned against a column. “Where is he in Elowas? How do we get him out? Surely it will not be so straightforward as simply leading him back through the door.”

“Surely, it will not.” Merak repeated in answer. The figure on the left, the most slender of the three, glided down from the dais and withdrew an object from deep in their gem-encrusted robe.

A dagger. Kael’s dagger.

They laid it flat across their palms and held it outstretched to Aisling. She couldn’t take her eyes off the way it gleamed in Merak’s light.

“I thought this burned with him,” she murmured, moving close enough to run a finger lightly across its hilt. Then she looked up at the Silver Saint offering it to her. “I can’t take it.”

“Blades such as this are not made to be wielded by one master alone; they are forged for a greater purpose,” Merak said.

Aisling shook her head and turned to Raif. “You take it. You were his captain.”

He placed a hand over his heart and dipped his head. “He would have wanted you to have it.”

Night after night, Aisling dreamt she was watching herself standing over Kael’s lifeless body as he bled out at her feet. She’d scream at herself to take that damned dagger to her own throat next, but her hand never moved. She just stared blankly down at the sticky crimson blood coating her skin and pooling around her shoes. She looked at it now, its blade polished and clean of the red that once stained it. Just as she was: her hands, her skin, all scrubbed clean and polished, despite what she saw some mornings in that split-second after waking from the nightmare.

Slowly, cautiously, she took it from the Silver Saint’s hands. It was heavier than she remembered, though this time she was the only one holding it. “I don’t know what to do with it.”

The Silver Saint stepped back into position with the others. “You will,” they said.

“Will we find him?” Aisling asked, eyes still on the dagger.

“Far Sight is capable of seeing great many things, but it does not allow us to look into a realm so broken as Elowas. It is ever-changing, shifting, evolving. It does not adhere to the threads of fate; rather, it twists them. Sometimes it consumes them entirely.” Merak’s words left a foreboding feeling in Aisling’s gut. Maybe Lyre was wrong—mayberevenant springwasn’t Kael after all, but the peace they’d all sought to begin with. Maybe they’d fail.

“Are you not coming?” Rodney demanded. There was an edge of nervousness to his tone.

The Silver Saints shook their heads slowly, first to the left then to the right. Their silken white hair flowed like water over their shoulders. “We depart at dusk for the Dominion of Anirith. Before peace can be nurtured, it must be negotiated.”

“They’re leading a delegation to come to an accord with the Seelie Court,” Lyre supplied. He and Raif had quietly moved to join Aisling and Rodney, so that the four now stood in a row before the three Silver Saints.

“Once we depart, the door will close. We cannot hold it open for you to tarry longer here.” Anticipating their question, Merak added, “There is one able to open it from the inside to allow your return Wyldraíocht. We do not doubt you will find her.”

Aisling drew in a breath. It had been late afternoon when they’d arrived through the Thin Place. Dusk was not nearly far off enough.

“Take care to remember that magic flows like a river in the god realm, and all who possess it may be carried further by its current than ever before.” Merak’s unseeing, unmoving faces gazed at each of them before returning to Aisling. “In Elowas, even the tiniest seed will grow into a mighty oak. The smallest spark will ignite a blazing wildfire.”

“I’m not ready,” she whispered, more to herself than to Merak or her companions.

“You have all that you need,” Merak soothed.

She shook her head. “But—”

“You have all that you need,”they insisted again. One by one they turned, following each other. Mirroring each other’s movements exactly as they drifted toward the far side of the dais.

Without thinking, Aisling stepped forward. “You were a star. Merak.”

Only the tallest of the three turned to acknowledge her, yet all spoke. “Yes, for a time. It was a pleasant existence. Peaceful. A welcomed rest.”

She nodded. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she paused, letting her breath even out before she spoke again. There was one last favor she had to ask of the Silver Saints. One last sacrifice she had to make.

“Before you go—there’s something else I need.” Aisling’s nails pressed angry half-moons into her palms. “I need you to close the Thin Places. All of them.”

“Aisling,”Rodney said sharply. Breathlessly. When Aisling turned to look at him, his eyes were wide and wounded. She was taking away his home, too. Her throat squeezed painfully.

“Just until the Veil heals,” she said, loud enough for both Rodney and Merak. Then only to the Silver Saints, she added, “Please.”

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