29

The light streaming through my window is crisp and lemony. Morning has come. The fire of my anger toward Olivia still burns, but I push it away. Just a dream. I toss off the blankets, and my bare feet hit the cold stone floor. I stay in the bed, though, a strange tension prickling my senses. The wind is unusually strong today—strange, since it’s typically just a gentle breeze causing the grasses around the cottage to sway. Now, gusts are shaking the ferns, and dust pebbles tap against the windowpane. A shiver runs down my spine as I catch sight of…

That. What is that? Perched atop a tree hollow.

I squint at the figure… a bat ? No…it’s too large for a bat. It is wedge-shaped, yet its form is indistinct in the dim light. It looks like a void, a hole of the blackest black, expanding and feeding on the terror of those who see it. But fear doesn’t grip me—it’s awe that pins me in place. The stench of rotten fruit and sulfur seeps through the windowpane, making me gag. I clasp a hand over my mouth and close my eyes. When I regain control and look back, the creature is gone. No shadow, no breeze, no stink of death.

I slide into my chair and roll to the sitting room. Veril is at his worktable, mixing ingredients in a bowl. “I saw something outside the cottage again,” I say, then describe the creature perched on the tree.

The old man hums in acknowledgment but doesn’t stop his work.

“You seem unperturbed,” I say, raising an eyebrow.

“We have a lot to do,” he says, flashing me a grin. “As much as I’d like it, you can’t stay here forever, Just Kai. If I had to swivel my head every time an otherworldly creature said, ‘good day,’ my neck would be a toothpick.” He nods at the bowl. “This is more important right now.”

“Another memory elixir?” I ask, rolling closer, the creature’s reek still lingering in my throat like grease.

“Breakfast,” he answers with a smile, eyes scanning my unwrapped leg. “You’re moving better today. Have you tried to stand?”

I push out a breath and grip the arms of the chair. I stand, wobbling a bit, but plant my feet firmly against the floor. “Behold,” I say, my arms out for balance. “What do you think?”

Veril laughs and taps the spoon against the bowl. “That’s the best standing I’ve seen all morning.”

I bend my knees, wincing from the pop of my tight muscles. “It’s quiet this morning. Where’s everyone?”

Veril flicks a dismissive hand and drizzles honey into the bowl. “Thankfully, out of my hair for the moment. Good sleep?”

I bite my lip and swallow. “I’m not sure.”

Without a word, he pours the batter into the iron skillet, and the edges of the thin cake bubble and harden. The aroma of warm honey wafts from the hearth. “What’s troubling you, dearest?” He coaxes the cake from the hot surface and flips it over.

“The Sea of Devour,” I say. “That mountain in its center. I’ve had dreams about both now, and I think…I need to go there.”

Veril slips the warm cake onto a plate. He spoons butter from the small pot and drops it atop the cake. “Because?”

My shoulders lift in a slight shrug. “There are voices telling me that I must come. Voices that include my own. And something about these dreams feels… right . Feels… true . The saffron, Peria, Kaivara, those mages… I need to go there soon or else—”

“Or else ‘what’?” He holds my gaze and tilts his head. When I shake my head, he sighs. “I’ve traveled to Peria with the intentions of crossing that sea and scaling the Mount of Devour.”

“And?”

He nods to my breakfast, indicating that I should eat. “I hired a boatbuilder in Peria and paid him to sail me across the sea so that I could summit the mount.”

“And?” I take a big bite of the cake and close my eyes as the light, buttery dough melts against my tongue.

“ And Dayami and I reached the banks of Devour,” he says, “but the soles of our boots were nearly eaten away. We slipped the canoe into the water, and the acid of Devour burned away the tar used to keep the boat waterproof. We barely made it back to safe ground.”

I drop my fork and push away the plate. “You’re saying that I shouldn’t go.”

He pushes the plate back to me. “I’m saying that you’ll need more than the clothes on your back to even reach the shores of Devour. I survived that trip only because I was younger, stronger—and most importantly, I was protected, wearing the right armor.”

I take another bite from the cake but taste nothing. “So…don’t travel to Devour naked and ill-prepared. And here I was, about to travel to Devour naked and ill-prepared.”

Veril peers at me and says, “Nothing is simple in that part of the realm. Have your dreams shown you how to reach the Sea and Mount of Devour?”

I shake my head. “I recall nothing of it at this moment.”

After breakfast, Veril pulls a book of maps from his shelves. “Devour Sea is far west of Pethorp, in the far west province of Vallendor. Its green waters have consumed nearly all the plants and wildlife in that region. Somewhere, in the crosses and triangles used by the mapmaker as markers, is the town of Peria, with its mages on defense, with its fields of saffron and altars dedicated to the goddess Kaivara, using magic to resist Emperor Wake’s invasion.”

I run my tongue over my lower lip. “So what kind of armor will I need to make the trip?”

“Luclite,” Veril says, “which is stronger than steel and virtually impossible to work with. Every piece of luclite armor is rare and precious.”

“And how do I get armor made of luclite?” I ask.

“You’re in luck.” Veril taps the top of my head with the rolled-up piece of parchment. “I know a Renrian in Caburh, a hamlet of about four hundred people. Separi and her wife run an inn there. She also makes and enchants luclite armor and jewelry for a few special people.”

“Am I a ‘special people’?” I ask.

Veril wiggles his nose. “You know the answer to that question already, dearest.” He wanders over to the cookie jar and plucks out three treats.

“If you couldn’t reach Mount Devour,” I ask, “what makes you think I can? That I’m worthy?”

“Other than your amulet and visions?” He shrugs. “I don’t know—but you won’t find out sitting in my cottage until the end of forever, will you?”

“How do I reach Caburh, then?” I ask.

After Veril drops two cookies in my hands, he spreads the rolled parchment across the table. It’s an expansive map of Vallendor Realm.

I roll my chair beside him as he points to a drawing of a hashmark in the southwest portion of the map, past Pethorp and Hafeld, at the end of the Duskmoor River.

“This is Caburh,” he says, “and there you’ll find the Broken Hammer, Separi’s inn. And here’s Mount Devour…” His finger drags north, following the edge of a forest, over plains and deserts, past Peria, to the shores of Devour. He taps at a single solid mountain rising from the middle of the sea. “The map doesn’t capture the size and scope of the mountain nor the immensity of the sea. Both are beyond formidable.”

I blow out my cheeks. “This will be quite the journey.”

“Truly,” he admits. “Will it be easy? Certainly not. But it is doable. Renrian settlers founded Caburh after the Great War. But not many live there all season now. It sits at Duskmoor River, and so the earth is rich and dark, perfect for cultivation and livestock. Merchants and artisans are always traveling and sailing in and out of Caburh. Renrians found it a pleasing site to continue our legacy of scholarship, alchemy, and enchantment. Renrians all over Vallendor convocate there every fifty years to share knowledge. It’s a wonderful time.”

He taps his finger against his chin. “Ten more years until the next one, and by then I’ll have so much to share. That’s when I’m supposed to receive the honorific of Commander of the Canon. There’s a certificate that even says that: Commander of the Canon. My very first.” His lavender eyes sparkle.

“You’ve never received a special designation?” I say, a grin inching across my face. “Someone as learned as you?”

“Not once. As I was saying…” He grows serious again. “Separi makes the most beautiful luclite armor, and she will make some for you.”

I study the map. “How long will it take to reach Caburh?”

“A week’s journey on foot, give or take. If we—”

“We?”

“I’m joining you,” he says. “To see my old friend and to protect and sustain you with tonics when you falter—and you will falter. It’s a long journey. You will face hardship, both physically and mentally. And I want to be there for you, encouraging you and healing you when needed. Honestly, I can’t be Commander of the Canon staying here , can I?”

“You cannot,” I say, joy boosting my spine and spirit. “Okay, so we get the armor from Separi, and then we will journey across the realm to the Sea and Mount of Devour.”

I will falter. Veril just said that. If it’s challenging for me, then how challenging will it be for a two-hundred-year-old Renrian? “I don’t want you to feel that you must join me, Veril. Please don’t think that you’re responsible for me until we’ve traveled the realm in search of my home.”

Veril dips his head. “I know the challenges and I’ll join you still. You are in charge of your destiny, Just Kai, and I am in charge of mine.” He pulls the pipe from his sleeve and studies the map. Discussion over.

“Mount Devour,” I say, running my finger over its jagged representation on the map. “I know that name. I must because it feels like hope, which is strange, since the word ‘devour’ is the opposite of hope. But that’s where I’ll reclaim a piece of me that I can hold on to. I know this is true, Veril.”

“I, too, know this is true, dearest.”

We shake hands, and I say, “Future Commander of the Canon, glad to start this adventure to the end of the realms.”

He shuffles away from the map and over to the hearth. “This calls for a celebratory mug of my most favorite tea.”

I stare at the map, memorizing those towns around the Sea of Devour and estimating the distances between, while Veril selects tea leaves from a shelf. Behind me, water sloshes in the kettle and the pestle grinds against the leaves as I trace my finger along the winding path of a river on the map. I feel the weight of Veril’s eyes on my back…but when I look back over my shoulder, he isn’t looking at me at all, just staring intensely at the mortar and pestle. I return my attention to the map—it can’t be all bad, this journey. Maybe I’ll discover a place where pine trees soar, where the air is so cold, it stings my lungs; a place with snow deep enough to get lost in; a beautiful and quiet and hopeful place. Maybe I’ll discover this place before acid replaces snow and softness.

“Here you go, Just Kai.” Veril hands me a cup of tea, then carries his own mug to the rocking chair. Steam wafts from the cup to my nose. Cinnamon, cherries, wood.

“To remembering,” Veril toasts.

“To me,” I toast.

Just then, the front door opens, and Olivia and Philia burst into the room, all smiles and good cheer. Jadon, though, enters the cottage with a drawn face and slumped shoulders.

I don’t speak even though the sight of him makes me feel like I’m floating.

Jadon gapes at Veril and me drinking tea by the fire, and then he spots the map on the worktable. He takes a deep breath, closes his eyes, and says, “Where are we going now ?”