Page 25 of Gift from the Source
“I wonder what he’s saying,”Cas says.
“By veins unseen, heed my call. A lifeforce feeds, large and small. Blood of life, red and pure. Bind to me, swift and sure,”Draken says.
“How did you—”
“His communal knowledge,”Cas breathes, cutting Corentin off and staring at Draken in fascination.
“Or his bestowing. I don’t know, but I know what he said. Shit… Gaster’s going to be pissed I know this language but not Elema Lingua Vetus,”Draken says, seemingly more worried about that than him suddenly understanding a language he’s never learned.
“You’ll teach me?”Caspian asks.
“Hell yeah. Then we can talk and no one will know what we’re saying. It’ll be our little secret,”Draken whispers with the biggest grin and surprisingly, instead of glaring, Cas smiles back.
“Ready, Willow?” Keeper asks, silencing our minds and grabbing our attention back instantly.
“Ready.”
Corks begin popping free from the jars, causing a rush of blood to shoot out faster than I saw coming. Willow’s just as surprised but quickly recovers and she slings her hand out. Her air element shoots from her palm, wrapping around the wild red rapids like a tunnel for the flood to flow through.
Gaster and I have the same thought as our earth elements command all the remaining corks in the room to disintegrate. The oncoming waves of blood slow down to a more bearable speed and Willow’s shoulders relax as she starts maneuveringaround the room.
Witnessing her and Keeper move from shelve to shelve, wall to wall, is like watching the realm’s most emotional ritual. It’s a slow choreographed dance that invokes so many emotions in me, I have to breathe through the onslaught of them.
I’m not the only one feeling it.
My brothers beside me watch every graceful step Willow takes. Each of our eyes are glazed, watching her free a part of herself that’s been so cruelly and wrongfully locked away.
Gaster’s beside himself as his tears disappear into his white beard, but he keeps his sobs silent and his love for her loud.
Keeper’s steadfast and sure with the words he continues to chant, but there’s a secondhand sadness surrounding him. Every few jars that empty, his glossy crimson eyes look over at Willow.
Slow streams of tears fall down her cheeks, and I realize now would be the right time not to invade her thoughts, but I can’t help it. She’s been gently knocking on my mind every few seconds as if she’s checking to make sure I’m still here. She’s doing the same to my brothers, but in her own special way she has for checking on each of us.
I don’t intrude or comment on anything I hear from her, although when she starts murmuring who the blood belongs to every jar, like she’s taking a mental tally, I want to. I want to reassure her, her grandmother, her mom, and herself will be justified. We’ll right the wrongs that were done to them, and their sacrifices will not be in vain.
Keeper’s words fade out as Willow holds her hand up for him to halt. The last remaining jar stands bright red, stark against the now clear glass surrounding it. She slowly approaches it, wiping her face clean, then drying her hands with her air.
Picking up the jar, she walks it back to Gaster’s pocket dimension, whispering to it so quietly, I don’t hear what she says. Nor do I attempt to pry. This is a moment meant and needed just for her.
As the last red drop slides over the glass rim, she closes the pocket for Gaster and exhales so deeply, wind gently whips some of my loose curls in my face.
“Almost done.” She sniffles when she turns to us, and we surround her.
“Almost done, Primary.”
“It’s almost over, princess.”
“This is the end, little wanderer.”
“Let’s go home, Will.”
Sighing, the glass jar slips free from her fingers, clanking against the floor loudly, but not shattering. It rolls somewhere across the room, but she never looks for it, never bothers to take her eyes off us.
“Yeah. Let’s go home.”
We follow her out of the threshold, and the pride that swells in my heart almost causes me to combust.
She never looks back.
