Page 193 of The Last One
Powerful forces are already after you, Kai, and they will try to influence you, lull you into slumber, trick you so that you never defeat the One.
Jadon Wake is the only person who has lulled me into slumber. He did all of this to grow more powerful and claim control of the realm. Again: fuck Vallendor. If he wants it, then he can have it—
Air catches in my throat, and a chill shoots through me.
That’s the problem, though. Sybel warned me.If the One is not stopped. If that power goes unchecked, the One will move on to the next realm, growing more powerful still, and on to the next realm, and on and on until…
Shit. Shit-shit-shit.
Even if I leave Vallendor and settle in another free realm, Jadon Wake would be there, eventually, and he’d possibly be manifested as someone else. As another siren song wielding a big sword.
I can’t escape this.
Inevitable. Unavoidable.
Okay. So, yes. Iwillmove closer to my goal. And I remain committed to what I’m meant to do, what Sybel pleaded for me to do.Destroy. Stop the One. And I will stop the One. I will destroyJadon Wake.
Having nowhere to run means I have to move forward. Having no choices means I have only one choice. I stow both Fury and Little Lava in their scabbards, pull on my armor, grateful that my gear is light; my mission, though, is not. Jadon Wake has a huge head start on me—more than twelve hours, and I’m on foot. That gives him at least another day’s advantage, maybe two depending on the terrain.
“Goodbye, cave,” I say, looking around. “Sorry for disturbing your quiet with bullshit.”
Plinking. Dripping. Silence. Just like we found it.
Outside, silver mist rolls across the craggy ground that turns from desert sand and granite to a slick green and yellow. The air feels moist here, not pleasant at all. There must be a body of water nearby, which is probably where Jadon caught the catfish. It’s not a healthy, refreshing body of water, not with a sky and air like this. And there’s not enough light streaming here this morning to crisp it. No breeze to stir it and push it out.
I pick my way down the side of this craggy hill and spot the goopy-looking stream, making the air and these surrounding boulders slick, then sit…sit…doing nothing.
It may be goopy-looking, but at least this stream has a current—it’s alive but neglected.
I find the cleanest, flattest spot on the banks of this creek and wash my face as best as I can without soap. I lament leaving behind the lemon-mint soap from Veril and the peppermint oil from Ridget. Couldn’t be helped. The water is cold and slick, but my dirty hands become less dirty, and that makes me smile.
I dip my hands back into the stream, then run them over my dry hair, being careful to not loosen the braids and lose the luclite threads that help to hold me together. While I’m far from the clean I’d enjoyed after my bath at the Broken Hammer, parts of me are more refreshed.
With no map, I must rely on the rise and set of the daystar to guide me toward my new destination, which is even farther than Mount Devour: Brithellum, home of the Wakes, including Jadon Wake, the One. There, I will fulfill my obligation, destroy the One, and then take my rightful place where the realm meets the sky on Mount Devour—where Veril said I’d survey my realm.Myrealm.
Day turns to night, and then the sky lightens to day. Then night comes again and day follows once more. I have no food, no water, no tools. I have Fury and Little Lava, but there is no game to hunt. I live by my wits, surviving on the meager offerings the blighted land provides along my way. Bitter nuts. Dying berries. Leaves that taste like pepper. Vengeance and indignation are excellent motivators, but after days of hunger and exhaustion, I find myself flagging mentally and physically.
On the dawn of this third day, I scan a forest devoid of life. No chirping birds or croaking frogs. Not even the buzz of a honeybee.Stay focused. Stay strong. That’s what Veril would tell me if he were here.Keep going, dearest. I hear his laughter bouncing off the dying pines and rolling down the steep hillside before me and—
Shit. I lean against a tree and close my eyes, my heart broken and will nearly depleted. Everything in me has broken—from my knees to my toes. And what hasn’t been broken, I’ve lost. My amulet. My memory. Veril.Jadon.
A chill runs along my spine and rolls out over my arms. The humidity makes my skin prickle, and for a moment I fear that either I’ve become feverish or the memory of Veril is making me physically ache. But then a breeze brushes against my ears, face, and neck, and I shiver. I’m not alone here—but I don’t sense danger, either. No glowing amber or blue shine from behind these low failures of shrubs and trees.
Another breeze, this one coming from the north, just like the first…
What’s that?
Pulsing. Keening. Vibrations from the dirt push against the soles of my boots. Soon, red and gold moths drift down from the sky and bump and swirl against my face.
I smile, ready to rejoice, but then I narrow my eyes and scan the forest and those fluttering moths.
Where exactly is my pendant? Who has it?
The pulsing grows stronger, and pressure builds between my eyes and behind my ears. I push my fingers against my forehead. No relief. Just more pressure.
The moths cloud my vision—so many of them now, and that keening… It’s coming from the moths. They shift, no longer a tower about me but an undulating trail that shimmers with gold and red dust, leading away from the forest and down the mountainside.
I stand and follow, winding through the craggy rocks of the wasteland. Down…down…
