Page 47 of To Scale the Emerald Mountain
“Yes, I am here.”
Locane leads me to the porch steps and hands me a glass of cool water, the condensation on the sides mixing with the blood on my fingers, streaking the glass with a sickly pink.
“You were supposed to be leaving me alone.”
I gulp the water down greedily. He takes the empty glass, not paying any mind to the small flecks of blood-tinged water. I groan again, this time with appreciation when he hands me a plate with a large piece of chocolate cake.
“When did you have time to make a cake?” I whisper under my breath, more to myself than to him.
“I did leave you alone. But I was nearby in case you needed my assistance. And I’d say I turned up at a good time.” I ignore Locane’s point, which is too fair for me to care to admit. “I take it you were successful?” He gives me an assessing look, his gaze stopping on the blood still streaking my upper lip.
“Yes. No problem," I say airily.
“And?” he demands, impatience lacing the word.
“And what?” I take another large bite of cake, moaning appreciatively—only partially to infuriate him further. The cake really is delicious. Rich, decadent, moist.
“And what happened? What did you See?”
Finishing the last bite of my treat, I slowly place the plate on the step above the one I’m sitting on, taking this time to deliberate on whether I should tell him what I Saw.
I still don’t fully trust Locane, and it is rapidly becoming apparent to me that he isn’t very helpful to me. All these tools he talks about being vital, I have a handle on them. After the events of the last few hours, I can’t help but wonder what I really need him for at all. It seems more like Locane needs me.
Weighing my options as quickly as I can, I decide to tell him, if only to get him off my back. “It wasn’t much. It was short and from the past. A vision of Ellhora and the banishment. Different from the lesson I saw on the same subject,” I tell him slowly and simply, leaving out the monumental information that Ellhora was, in fact, the one to kill the willowbane tree—not the gods.
“What exactly happened?”
Locane leans in closer to me and grips my hand in his, squeezing tight enough that it’s almost uncomfortable. I’m about to say something when he lets go and loosens his posture significantly. His eyes soften to a more inquisitive state, dropping the molten black mania that surfaced for a heartbeat.
I try to keep my breaths steady. Steadier than Locane’s pendulum of emotions, constantly swinging back and forth, but always weighing the question of where it will land with each pass.
This man is such an enigma. I swear, I know him and that familiarity gives me a sense of safety and security. He gives me the distinct feeling of home. But in the same breath he’s unhinged, unpredictable, cold. He makes my stomach quake with unease. The two instincts are simultaneous and constantly warring for dominance.
Since we’ve reached the destination of his home, and I’ve been made aware of so many things, it’s like I’m waking up. My mind is becoming clearer by the hour, even with the panic attacks and soaring ups and downs of my own emotions. It’s like a blanket slowly being lifted from my brain, a sticky fog pulling away from my consciousness reluctantly.
I’m figuring out a lot about myself, but is it enough?
I breathe in a heavy sigh as he gazes at me with anticipation.
“I Saw the Ruby Shore and the Great Trench between this Continent and the Territories being formed. After Ellhora attempted to banish her siblings to the other side of the world, there were immediate changes to the landscape. She watched the dark brown dirt morph into powdery red sand in seconds.”
Locane’s eyebrows shoot into his hairline. “Her siblings? What do you mean?”
The color leeches from my cheeks with a wave of cold, knowing I’ve accidentally revealed something important Locane did not already know. I try to keep my words behind my teeth, but they come out in a choked whisper anyway. “The gods. The gods and Ellhora were all siblings.”
Black overtakes Locane’s dark pupils; his mania has fully returned. “How do you See your visions?” he asks in awe. “Do you See them from the eyes of the subject? Or from above, as if you were looking down into a room from a balcony above? Or standing off to the side?” His excitement is palpable, his words coming out faster with each question.
I raise my hand to stop him.
“I See them through the eyes of the subject. I see, hear, feel everything that they do. It’s as if I am them. I was Ellhora in this vision.”
“Magnificent,” he says again. “Do you have thoughts of your own? Are you aware of your own consciousness within them? Have you ever tried to alter what they do?” He has leaned into me further, our knees brushing.
My brows raise and then knit together as I consider how to answer.
“It’s strange. And very, very surreal. I am aware of myself, but I don’t form any thoughts of my own. I’ve never tried to control anything about their words or actions. But if what I’m Seeing has happened in the past, I wouldn’t be able to, would I? Those words and actions are already solidified.”
“Yes, I suppose they are. But what about something that hasn’t yet come to pass? Could you alter words and actions then?” His excitement permeates the air around us, making my mind frantic with the possibilities. “I bet you could. You are wonderfully powerful,” he adds.
