Page 15 of Skyshade
It blinded them. Wraith didn’t see the tree until it was too late. It crashed against them with such a force, Isla was knocked clean off his back.
And then, she was falling.
She screamed until her voice went hoarse, and her limbs flailed helplessly. The force of the air was too strong; she couldn’t move her arm, couldn’t pull the necklace. Couldn’t reach for the starstick she had tucked down her spine. Couldn’t do anything as the wind howled around her, and she fell alongside the rain.
Her body broke through the storm, hurtling toward the ground. It rushed up to meet her.
With a breath-stealing thud, she was knocked back against a set of scales. Wraith had caught her on his spine, just feet before the dirt. He reared up, and her body flew off again with the force, but her hands held on. He lowered again, and she molded herself to him.
Go back. Go back. It was the voice of survival in her head, knowing she wouldn’t get lucky the next time she fell. This was reckless. Foolish.
But she needed to find the oracles tonight. Grim couldn’t know she was seeking them out; he couldn’t know about the prophecy. Especially since she might very well kill him to fulfill it.
Unless she could change fate. The oracles’ information could save them all. That was what kept her going.
Below, the ocean raged, peppered in whitecaps, like the sea had grown teeth. The waters between Lightlark and Nightshade were vast. Part of her knew the impossibility of finding anything out here, especially in the darkness, but Cleo had an entire armada. They would be together, like a legion.
She hoped she would get lucky. She hoped she was right.
The storm weakened away from Nightshade, but it did not disappear completely. Would Cleo’s fleet be sailing away from it? Or would they be harnessing the power of the upturned waves to get to Nightshade even faster?
For hours, she watched the endless dark beneath her, waiting for any sign of the Moonling, her grip never loosening.
Nothing but waves.
She nearly gave up. Almost told Wraith to head back.
Then she saw it. White sails like ribbons in the storm, whipping wildly. Hundreds of them. It was a wonder the tempest didn’t swallow them completely.
There.
Cleo’s ship was the largest. It had extra sails that rippled like silk. “Keep circling, but higher,” she told Wraith.
Then she slipped off his side, holding her starstick.
For a moment, she was falling again, hurtling through the storm.
Then, she was on a deck.
Her knees buckled under her; her legs weakened from fighting to stay on Wraith’s back. She slumped against a pillar, hiding behind it, rain plastering her hair over her face. The wood below was white oak, crafted from the pale forest she had seen on Moon Isle.
Yells swirled around her, Moonlings struggling to tame the sea and keep the ship steady. She needed to move. Quickly, she looked around, squinting through the storm. A light. There was a light on, in what looked to be the captain’s quarters. Cleo.
The oracles would likely be below. Another touch of her starstick, and that was where she went.
It was quieter down here. She took a shaking breath, shivering, not realizing how cold the rain had been until she was out of it.
Her legs shook as she got to her feet, leaning against a barrel. She slid the lid off with a grunt. Food. Almost every barrel was filled with it. Still...the Moonlings wouldn’t last forever on water and fish without resupplying.
What was their plan? Would Grim allow them to get food from Nightshade?
It didn’t matter now. All she cared about was finding the oracles.
The last time she had seen them, they had been frozen in ice. She wondered if Cleo thawed them or kept them entrapped.
Only one way to find out. She opened every single barrel, every crate, until her arms were sore.
No sign of them.
