9. Declan

Chapter nine

Declan

I blinked several times to clear the flares from my eyes left by the brilliance of the gate's shimmering veil. Dizziness threatened to steal my footing, but my hand found the cool rim of the gate, and I braced myself until the feelings cleared. When I was stable enough to open my eyes, I was shocked to find myself in a small grotto almost exactly like the one I'd just left, complete with a table, three chairs, a pitcher, and glasses. I turned to inspect the gate and found its writing to be identical to the one in the Melucian mountains—at least, as similar as I could remember from the odd characters etched in the metal that I couldn't read.

I traced the lettering with my fingers, just as I'd done before.

I'd forgotten my feathered companion was still perched on my shoulder until the owl peeped, scampered down my arm, and hopped onto the floor. She scurried to the cave's opening, another crack in another egg, then turned and glared back at me, cocking her head in a most amusing way.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes. "Can you give me a minute? If Atikus was right, we just traveled halfway around the world and across a sea. My head is spinning."

The owl peeped twice, tottered to the table, and pecked at one of the chair legs.

"What?" Now my head cocked in disbelief, as the owl offered her wisdom for my recovery. I was pleased to find the pitcher full of the same flavorful wine and filled a glass to the brim.

The owl peeped a reprimand and pecked my boot.

"It's a magical wine, and we're on a magical journey. I'm duty bound to drink it," I joked between satisfying sips. "Besides, now that you mention it, I don't remember feeling anything bad after drinking that other wine. Imagine that—all the wine I can drink without ever getting a hangover. I may never leave this place."

The owl pulled at my pant leg, so I reached down and let her hop onto my hand, then hop off when I lifted her to the tabletop. She fussed at the table's wood for a second before settling in, resuming her stare at my glass, then me, then my glass.

"Sure wish I knew what was going on in that little head of yours," I said, grinning. "You know, there was a Mage at the guild with a Gift for animals. I bet she would have loved talking to you."

Peep. Peep-peep.

She hopped over to an empty glass and pecked at it before turning back.

"Uh, really? You sure about that? I didn't know owls drank wine."

She pecked at the glass again, the tinkle echoing off the cavern's walls.

"All right, but don't blame me if it gets you drunk. This stuff might affect you differently than it does me."

I shook my head and poured a small amount from the pitcher, then tilted the glass so she could reach the ruby liquid. Her beak disappeared for a second, then resurfaced as she smacked it together a couple of times. A tiny pink tongue poked out to clean off the last drops.

I scratched her head, and she squinted and nuzzled my hand.

It had only been a few days since the owl had run across Ayden and me in the woods, but I was already growing attached to the creature.

Thinking back on our first moments, when she'd skittered about my leg before settling in for a nap, I found my heart torn. I was glad for her arrival and the companionship that followed. She was adorable and lifted my spirits. But her arrival also coincided with my departure from Ayden, and that brought my mood back down.

Ayden would love watching her perch on my shoulder. He would laugh as she pecked at the glass and lapped wine with her tiny tongue. He would made some snarky comment about raising "our child" better than some magical drunk, and that would warm my heart, knowing the idea of a life together had found purchase in his thoughts.

I stared down at the tiny bird, amazed at the keen intelligence in her golden eyes. It was insane to say aloud, but she seemed to understand and respond when I asked questions. She peeped when she wanted something or when I didn't move quickly enough to her liking. At times, she appeared to guide our path, like when she raced toward the cave's entrance the moment we'd passed through the gate.

And there was our trip through the gate.

I'd done everything I could think to activate the portal, but only when she was on my shoulder did it allow passage. There was something special about the little bird, something I couldn't identify and likely would never understand.

In my heart, I understood her with perfect clarity—at least, that's how it felt. It reminded me of how my sleeping mind might see a dream with perfect clarity, but then the dream would vanish from memory with morning's light. Whatever notions I might have about the owl's nature flew away each time my conscious mind tried to grasp them.

"I'm pondering the nature of an owl. Ayden would never let me live this down."

On cue, she peeped.

"Fine, I've had my wine, and my head is no longer spinning, Your Majesty."

She peeped again, then pecked my hand.

"Ow!" A drop of blood formed where her beak had broken skin.

She stared up, her head tilted, and I swear there was amusement in her eyes.

With a sigh, I pushed back my chair and walked to the cave's entrance. The owl hopped from the tabletop to the chair, then to the floor, and skittered behind.

I peered through the crack, the sliver of an entrance. The land beyond was darker than the deepest well. Even the moon was hiding, refusing her light and guidance .

I ran a hand through my hair and glanced down at the owl, who had chosen that moment to roost on my boot.

"We could use a night's rest, little one, and this cave is safer and more comfortable than the forest floor."

Peep.

"I'll take that as agreement."

I reached down and let her climb up my arm and onto my shoulder. She pecked my earlobe, then hunkered down as I strode back to the table.

As I poured a last glass of wine to help me sleep, the owl uttered a sharp couple of peeps.

"Hey! I have to heal the hole you pecked in my hand. You don't want me dying in my sleep, do you?"

Her head lowered as though ashamed.

"Spirits, you don't need to feel bad." I held up my hand, freshly healed from the first few gulps. "Already good as new."

She tottered over and nuzzled my mended flesh.

"If you get any cuter, I might burst. Let's get the bedroll out. I have a feeling tomorrow may be a long day."

When I finally stretched out, the owl hopped from near my legs onto my chest. This time, rather than settle, she glanced around, tottered up to my shoulder, and bounded onto my forehead.

"Uh, ma'am, that won't work."

She peeped, then hopped into my long wavy hair. My scalp tingled as she scratched and pecked, then dug herself in and stilled. In seconds, the grotto echoed with her familiar hum of satisfaction.

I smiled, content with the world in an oddly magical—somehow perfect—moment in time.

The next morning, I ate the last of the dried fruit and crusty bread, which I gladly washed down with more wine. When I finally stood and grabbed my pack, the owl jumped and peeped until I allowed her to nest in my hood.

"I am but your carriage, m'lady." I chuckled when she peeped in reply.

I retrieved Atikus's map from my cloak. It was a perfectly detailed rendering of the mountains in Melucia but offered nothing of the island of Rea Utu.

"Sure hope the gate brought us to the right island," I muttered.

With more questions than answers, I squeezed out of the cave's narrow entrance to find the surrounding landscape remarkably similar, yet completely different from that of the mountains of my homeland.

The island's peaks rose taller, and their edges appeared more jagged. They were cloaked in trees, but not the pine, oak, or other firs I was used to. Towering palms of every variety blanketed the land in all directions. They poked out of cracks and clung to impossible ledges. Where the trees back home were tall and thick, the palms of this island swayed and bent gracefully with the ever-present breeze. The foliage atop the trees allowed far more light through the canopy than the forests of Melucia, which encouraged shorter palms and thick ferns to blanket the forest floor.

"So much for an easy hike down the mountain," I mumbled. "Looks like we'll have to hack our way through."

From the height of the peak on which we stood, I could see a handful of surrounding mountains, but also the entire eastern side of the island nestled into the arms of the Great Sea. The rising sun scattered brushstrokes of gold, auburn, and crimson across the crystal-blue ocean. The clouds, ever present in the forest back home, were scarcely present, mere puffs of breath on a wintry day.

Until that moment, I had always thought of the mountains in my homeland as the most beautiful, serene place in the world, but nothing had prepared me for the majesty of the isles.

The owl poked her head out of my hood and hopped onto my shoulder. She nuzzled into the bend of my neck as we shared the morning view.

The soft coo-purr she emitted the moment her head pressed into my skin made me smile .

In the distance, I noticed dots I thought were huts and smoke trails of a village.

And . . . that's where I'm going for help?

As I took my first steps out of the cave, my feet struck stone similar to the stairs I'd climbed the day before. They appeared even less used and more worn than those in Melucia, weathered by time and the tropical climate. Thankfully, whoever laid the stones on the island considered those who had to climb. Rather than a straight descent like the ones back home, these steps wound down the mountain, twisting and turning in ways that made the trek less steep.

By the time we reached the bottom of the mountain, I was struggling for breath in the thick island air. The sun bore down mercilessly, and sweat soaked through my shirt into my heavy cloak. I stopped and packed my cloak away, then stripped out of my Ranger tunic, leaving on a thin, long-sleeved shirt that billowed in the ocean breeze. My wide-brimmed hat shielded the sun from my eyes as I donned it for the first time in weeks.

The palms that blanketed the mountain thinned, but only a little, giving way to shorter palms of a hundred varieties. Leaves wider than my waist and longer than I was tall sprouted from thin-trunked plants that bent beneath the leaves' weight. Shorter bush-like plants, unlike any I'd seen back home, squatted and spread in all directions. In places where the palms thinned, colorful plants with bright blooms stretched toward the sunny sky.

And if the overwhelming variety of foliage wasn't enough, the sound of countless birds painted with even more colors filled the air. In the distance, I could almost hear the ever-present roar of the sea, her waters rushing in and crashing against sandy beaches and rocky shoals. Though I couldn't see the crystal waters, their salty tang teased my tongue with every breath.

"This place is so . . . alive ," I muttered, cupping a leaf twice the size of my palm to watch an odd bug with an emerald shell skitter away .

I breathed deeply and somehow felt at one with the land, a part of her, as though she and I were always meant to be.

"Now you're just being dramatic." I laughed at my own thoughts, then looked around to see what the owl had gotten into.

While I was stripping out of my winter clothes, she had hopped down and began exploring the island floor. She seemed captivated by the sandy carpet, pecking and scratching, making grains scatter in every direction. She peeped like a child might chatter at a new experience they found exciting. A moment into her play, her tiny body froze with her head snapped sharply to one side. Before I could speak, she darted into the underbrush, returning seconds later with a dusty-green lizard in her beak.

"What? No breakfast for me?" I grinned at my little friend.

She tottered forward and craned her neck, as if to offer the lizard to me.

I shook my head and chuckled. "You really are something. Eat your lizard. I had some of that wine before we left. I'll be all right."

She cocked her head, the lizard flopping as she did, then tossed it back and fought to swallow the thing whole .

"Little one, standing here won't get us there any quicker. It'll take us all day and probably some of tomorrow to reach the town."

The owl forced the lizard's tail down her gullet and dutifully accepted my outstretched arm.

With each passing hour, the day grew hotter and more humid. The distant cawing of gulls and crashing of waves filled my chest with an odd peace I'd only previously found in the mountains along the Melucian border—but it was different here, somehow rawer and more natural. It didn't make sense. The mountains of my home were equally untouched, but something about the island felt more . . . untamed.

Every step felt like falling in love with the land again and again.

I tried to focus on what lay before us. Atikus had been vague about the people of this land, only hinting that I would be viewed as an outsider, and it would take effort to earn their trust. Winning people over had never been a challenge for me, but his words of caution carried a foreboding ring.

Surely, there would be some structure to the island inhabitants' society, some leader with whom I could speak and ask for direction. But even that vital piece of information eluded the Mage's instructions .

He'd told me of the Keeper of magic, the mysterious caretaker of the Well, and thus, magic itself. He'd offered no description of this man or woman. He hadn't even said if the keeper was a man or woman. He'd given no guidance in how to find the mountain beneath which the Well resided.

I grew up thinking Atikus was the wisest, most intelligent man in the world. He'd read every book ever written and could recite them all by memory. He could outthink and outwit even the brightest Mage.

And yet, sorting through the days to come, desperately searching for a plan or approach that might help this insane mission succeed, I began to wonder if there were more things my adopted father didn't know than those he did.

I was sure the sun moved slower in the island sky than she had over Melucia, but she finally slipped behind the mountains, leaving a stunning visage of a dying flame above the peaks. As darkness wrapped her arms around us, we found a small patch of sand surrounded by tall palms and made camp for the night.

I lay on my bedroll and gazed at the stars. My mind wandered to my time with Atikus and Keelan in the Rangers' headquarters. We had not seen each other in several years. It should have been a joyful reunion. And yet, old wounds I thought long healed seemed to open as they entered my world.

I hadn't meant to sound so bitter, to rant about my pent-up frustration at being Mute or alone or . . . cast aside, but something in the easy way the Mage and Keelan interacted, and my brother's calm, commanding presence, propelled long-held resentments to the fore.

In our youth, I couldn't get enough of my big brother. I followed him everywhere. I watched him train with Guardsmen. I even imitated how he'd wave his arms when he got excited telling a story.

I idolized Keelan.

When did that change? I wondered.

At sixteen, Keelan graduated from the Mages' Guild Academy and joined the Guard. I remembered standing on the stone step of the Mages' quarters, a ten-year-old boy, watching my brother, my hero, cross beneath the guild's arch for the last time. Atikus stood by my side, his large, wrinkled hand resting heavily on my slender shoulder, ready to comfort and guide his last adopted son. I'm sure he meant his presence to offer strength, to reassure me that I was not—and would never be—alone.

But there could be no such claim. Keelan had left, and, for the first time in my life, I was truly on my own. I've never felt so hollowed out, so empty, so utterly adrift—not since that day.

In the years that followed, I remained one of the most popular figures throughout the complex. The Mages who'd raised us still adored me, and my constant jokes and silly antics kept other students amused. Still, through it all, that empty pit of abandonment and loneliness shrouded my thoughts.

Everyone I ever loved had left me.

First our parents, whom I'd never really known, then Keelan, the brother who had become my world.

A seed of anger and pain planted itself within me, only to surface fully matured the moment Keelan and Atikus strode into the Rangers' domain, as if they belonged there, as if it was their home and not mine.

I'd joined the Rangers to get away—to get far away. I liked the job well enough, but my green cloak represented more than just a chance to serve; it was an escape. Escape from the expectations of the Mages, escape from those ridiculous golden collars and the piteous looks of the people wearing them, and escape from all the talk of "the great Keelan Rea" and his steady stream of accomplishments, all of which underscored my utter failure to even find a path .

In my darkest, most private moments in the Melucian mountains, as I stared out at the vastness of nature, my mind wandered again to the idea of escape—escape from my pain and from the constant nagging of that little voice in my head that chided me for being lost, from the dread of expectation each time I returned to civilization. I dreamed of escape from the pity in the eyes of every Gifted person I met. It would have been easy to walk off the edge of the world, to never be seen or heard from again, to never hurt again.

And then came Ayden Byrne.

I found myself grinning at the mere mention of his name.

Spirits, I hated him. He was so utterly arrogant and filled with his own self-importance. Everything about the man, from the way he dressed, to his speech, to how he always held his shoulders so perfectly straight, made me want to loathe him simply for breathing the same air.

I closed my eyes and pictured his smooth face, with its high cheekbones and perfect, carved jawline framed in a red-gold wreath of flame. His lips were the first things to capture my sight, so pink and full, just begging to be kissed and nipped. And then our eyes met, and somewhere deep inside, I knew I was no longer lost.

Ayden had found me.

I would never be alone again.

Warmth trickled up my arms and into my lungs. I hugged my arms around myself, wishing they belonged to another.

I couldn't remember ever feeling so . . . whatever this was. I didn't even know what to call it. The mere thought of Ayden made my blood pump faster and my body ache for his touch.

Being with him sparked something within me I thought long died out. He made me laugh. He made me dream.

Most of all, he made me hope.

But now, lying on a bed of sand on a distant island, far from the one man who filled me with awe, my old emptiness threatened to creep back into being. I'd been forced to leave Ayden behind, almost before we even had the chance to find each other.

Bitterness pricked at my tongue, its taste sour and cruel.

I glanced down at the little owl, her tiny chest rising and falling with each breath. Something about merely looking at her made the pain, frustration, and anger . . . evaporate. I didn't understand the effect she had on me, but I couldn't look at her and feel anything but happiness and peace. She had the power to chase my darkness away, and I loved her for it.

Glancing back toward the stars, my mind returned to the present, to the journey ahead, to the Keeper and our quest for their magical aid—assuming they had any to give. It still seemed ironic that I, the Mute among the team, had been sent in search of a magical solution. I supposed my skills learned in the Ranger corps were ideal for a mission such as this—and it would free Keelan to continue his search for the missing Healer—but why not Sil, or anyone else with a Gift? They would know how magic felt, how it worked beneath their skin—or whatever it did. They would intuitively grasp everything I had never even experienced.

And yet, for the first time in my life, a small voice within whispered words of encouragement,

This is your path.

Despite the sweltering heat, I shivered.

Nothing could fully erase my bitterness toward Keelan—at least, not so quickly—but there was a sense of rightness to the voice I couldn't quite grasp. I knew it spoke truly, and I breathed deeply at the realization.

Finally, the boy who'd spent his life escaping everything was headed toward something .

My eyes closed, and I fell into a deep, peaceful sleep filled with pleasant memories of red hair and bright blue eyes.