Page 49 of Soulgazer

Dolphins. An entire pod is here hunting the things, and Faolan looks like some mad idea is spinning round his mind as he watches them move. More shadows fall across our tiny boats one after another, as well as prisms of color and light, announcing the arrival of the tuar ceatha—enormous cranes with sleek black necks, white faces, and iridescent feathers—that come from the Isle of Painted Claw.

Chaos descends in a flurry of splashing tails and feathers as dolphins feast from below, rounding the fish into tight circles, and the cranes dive down to catch their own fill.

“Tavin, get your net ready!”

“Wha’?”

A dolphin jostles the side of our currach. By the time it steadies, Faolan’s leapt into the water with one arm raised against the birds, the other slashing through the waves to try to catch…

“Stars above, is he serious?”

“Apparently!” Nessa shakes her head and then heaves against the oars to bring us closer to the mayhem, their screeches, shouts, and swears blending into a single hum that takes root in my jaw.

Rakes across my skin like scales.

“Oh. Oh, no.”

Ice crackles across my back, draining me of humor as I lift my hand slowly and stare at the red-violet streaks of blood left behind. A dying fish flaps feebly where my fingers just rested, a jagged gash splitting its golden tail.

I cling to the side of the boat. Stare hard into the water, though every part of me screams to look away, because if I don’t see whatever is coming to me, then no one will die.

Faolanwon’t die.

Right?

The thought is ridiculous, almost childish in nature, because in truth, I’ve no idea what this magic is capable of. Whatever we’ve attempted—bones, cards, stones—nothing has worked to awaken its power or summon a vision forth. Nothing but lying skin-to-skin for hours every night, when my guard is low and my mind vulnerable. Yet if I feel things from the mere brush of skin, how much more powerful a gateway is the heart’s own blood?

I blink, and the colors blur. Blink again, and see feathers coatedin blood. Hear bone shatter against flat rock. Scaled bodies lying still beneath an open sky, slender bones plucked from flesh. It’s vivid and terrifying, and—

Another blink, and I’m surrounded by the Teeth once more as the painted cranes swoop harmlessly overhead.

Cranes suddenly streaked in scarlet.

Head pounding, I turn my face to the sky and take in the strange flat top of the nearest Tooth. It is as pockmarked as the rest of them, with a black, mottled base peeking up from the waves. And at the top…

At the top, wings beat against the sky in a rage, cranes dipping over the edge to drop objects that I swear glimmer like gold.

Stars above.

We don’t need to try our nets or useless arrows—the answer is in the skies.

“Faolan!” I twist around to see Nessa’s left our currach, wading through the shallows to join her captain. The dolphins aren’t happy with her invasion. They slap their tails against the water, sending salty sprays into Faolan’s and Nessa’s eyes. I crawl to the edge of the boat and cup my hand over my mouth. “FAOLAN!”

“I’m sort of busy here, lass! Nessa, just try and—oi, you barmy little maggot, stop splashing me, damn you.”

“Faolan, look up! I felt—”Magic.“I felt the—”

“Not now, Saoirse!”

I bristle at the name. Not Ocean Eyes, Wolf Tamer, wife, or any of the other things he’s called me for weeks. Only Saoirse, said with the same edge of dismissal that nearly everyone else in my life has ever used.

My teeth grind together as I watch another crane pluck a fish from the water and take it high into the sky. If Faolan would bloody look up and see my eyes shift, he would know. He’dlisten. But I’mnot going to shout about the magic in front of all these people—not when it’s finally told me something useful instead of terrifying.

“If you’re not going to listen—”

Oona joins them in the water with a warrior’s shriek, weapons at the ready to spear through as many fish as she can, and the arguments that descend drown out any remaining attempts to get Faolan’s attention.

“Of all the feckin’ times.” I bite off the string of curses and shove myself over the edge of the currach opposite all the rest. The water is warm here, lapping at my rib cage as I wade toward the pitiful excuse for land. Whether it truly is a decaying beast’s tooth or only a legend, the strip of dark, spongy ground is hardly wide enough to stand on. I step closer to the pitted surface, where deep crevices split the wall large enough to fit a foot or hand.

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