Page 16 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
The calming presence around me holds tighter, encouraging me.
Trying to steady my breathing again, my control breaks. My mental anchor snaps, and I go into free fall, landing in an ancient and masculine mind.
Walking hurriedly, I’m anxious to reach the glittering waterfall, a shining beacon in the musty underground cavern.
My torch does little to penetrate the darkness as I make the long trek to my destination. Even with my advanced eyesight, the suffocating darkness is so thick I can barely make out the outlines and shadows on the rough rock walls of the cavern surrounding me.
Drawing closer to the swirling pool at the base of the misting waterfall, I drop my torch and sprint forward. Skidding to a halt at the water’s edge, I take in the beauty before me. The underground waterfall cascades from a fathomless depth above, a veil of mist shrouding the rock behind it.
Taking a deep, steady breath, I remove my boots and walk into the shallow pool with smooth rock beneath my feet. I trudge towards the veil of mist throwing facets of rainbow lights around despite the surrounding darkness.
A deep sigh escapes as I wade forward, resolved that this will be the place. I fight the urge to change my mind and choose somewhere else, knowing thismustbe done.
An agreement was made.
Cool water sprinkles over me as I walk under the waterfall. Reaching the rock wall on the back side, I drag my hand along the stone, procrastinating the inevitable just a little bit longer.
My palm stops on a rough patch with a slight dip in the rock.
Hanging my head, I ready myself.I reach down to the sheath at my waist and pull out the precious willowbane dagger.
Inspecting the dagger, I take in the hilt and blade—one continuous piece made from the now fully extinct willowbane tree, cut and carved while the tree still lived. The bone-white wood is as strong and unbreakable as any of the finest forged steel. The hilt has roughly etched symbols and whorls. It’s cold and textured in my hand.
Without further thought, I slice the sharp blade across my palm, barely any pressure needed to allow blood to seep from my hand. I lay my palm against the rough stone wall, letting that bit of myself collect in the small hole. The essence leaves me, bringing weakness to my knees as my magic feeds the earth the way it was always meant to—only not like this.
That tiny bit of self solidifies beneath my hand, forging itself into the cavern, finally completing a semblance of the natural order and balance of this world. As the last bit of magic flows to complete my task, I scream when a final pulse sends a shockwave of power through the emerald now forged into the dark rock. The power pulses from the gemstone like a strong heartbeat, sending small spiderwebs of glowing green in every direction away from it.
It’s not clean work. Although only a small handful would ever be able to remove it, and only if they have the correct tools to do so, it will be far too easy.
As an added measure, I snap my fingers, calling forth my trusted companion and release another part of myself; another sacrifice I resign myself to make.
The deep purple eyes of my favored creature peer up at me.
“Make sure they are worthy. And even if they are, don’t make ittooeasy for them. You have served me well.”
It cocks its head at me in understanding. Before I can change my mind and call it back into myself, I leave.
Opening my eyes, I lay silent for a while, using the excuse of the dark sky to be still and think of the dream that I had.
Only it wasn’t just a dream. It was another memory. A memory and vision in one.
And what feels like an important one, as if I had been made privy to some long-lost secret when I was sixteen years old. As I suspected, I do have magic. A strong gift that Nana was helping me learn to control. The seizure I had when I Saw the lecture about the Mother wasn’t a unique experience.
I’ve been plagued by those visions since I was a child.
My mind whirs, and I decide not to tell Locane about this particular dream—about what I can do. Creeping suspicion that my Sight has something to do with his aid hits like a battering ram. Is this why he’s hesitant to part ways with me? Are my Sight and strange visions connected to my imprisonment?
My ever-present headache twinges with my racing mind.
Doing my best to reign in my frustrations and doubt, the shuffling of Locane rousing nearby catches my attention. This is the first time I’ve woken before him. “Oh, decided to finally get up, did you?”
“The sun has barely risen,” he says blandly.
“Yes, well. Lots of ground to cover! I’m ready to be out of these godsdamned woods, have proper clothing, and a proper bed. And mostly, a proper conversation.”
It has no effect, unsurprisingly.
“You were sleeping in a dungeon before these godsdamned woods. I’d think you don’t have much room for complaint.” Locane gets up and rummages through his pack, producing two lush apples and throwing one to me. I catch it with precision, crunching on a large bite.
