Page 68 of Skyshade
He swallowed. “If this is what you wish.”
It was what she wished.
She strode out of the castle, away from Poppy’s cries and Terra’s curses.
WRITTEN
Her guardians were the traitors. She shouldn’t be surprised. They had betrayed her before. So why did it hurt so badly? Why did it make her question everything?
“You’re making a mistake,” Wren told her.
No. She was finally finding the strength to rid her realm of those who would rise against her.
Did they not understand that the future of all their realms hung in the balance? Did they not see that a storm worse than any before was coming?
Did they think she wanted to imprison some of the only people she had ever loved? Did they think it made her feel good?
Of course not. They didn’t know she was on borrowed time, that she had just weeks left to make these hard decisions, to change her fate and save them all, even if it broke her heart. Even if it broke her.
There had to be another way to find the ring—at whatever cost.
The blacksmith didn’t look particularly happy to see her. He didn’t even turn to face her; instead he continued to work diligently as he said, “It isn’t time.”
“I’m aware.” She had been counting down the time he had left almost as closely as she tracked her own. The end of winter—the end of the storm season—marked both of their deaths, even if he didn’t know it. “Do you have a device that can track something?”
“Be more specific.”
Her voice had an edge. “I lost a ring. I need to find it.”
He paused his work. Gently put down one of the large metal tools he had been holding. “No. I used to, many millennia ago, made from the blood of a ruler with a tracking flair. But it was lost, and his ability with it.”
Lost.
“And that’s it? There isn’t any other way?”
He shook his head.
That might have been the end of it...but he had paused slightly.
For a fraction of a second.
“There is, isn’t there?”
He sighed and turned to face her, looking tired. “Not one that is practical.”
“But possible?”
The blacksmith shook his head. “I suppose. But—”
“Tell me.”
He studied her. “The person I’m speaking of...the ruler with the tracking flair. He bound his power to a marking.”
She frowned. She didn’t know that could be done. “What does that mean?”
He leaned his massive arm against the side of his worktable. “It is part of an ancient, dangerous art. When crafted correctly, markings have power. They can call upon ability long lost.”
Isla took a step forward. “You’re talking about skyres, aren’t you?”
