Page 77 of Skyshade
Four tries later, she found herself on a wider coastline.
The rest of the islands had been barren, lifeless, but this—
This might as well have been the Wildling newland. She could see the forests from the beach, rising high. She could hear squawks and growls and the chitter of insects. She could feel endless gleaming threads, reaching toward her like fingers. This place...was alive. She half-expected a group of people to approach, but no one came.
She needed a better vantage point.
In the days since she’d had the bracelets removed, she had been hesitant to use her power. It had been buried so long, she feared it would rush up in an uncontrollable wave.
That was part of why she was here. According to this map, the island was far from any other inhabited land she knew of. If it was empty; it could be the perfect place for her to explore her abilities again, without fearing ruin.
She just needed to ensure it was the right location.
Breathe. It was almost as if she could hear Oro in her head. She slowly filled her lungs, wincing, her airways still dry with salt. She carefully focused her mind, like an arrow. Then, without daring open her eyes, she shot into the sky.
It was a risk. She could fall, she could propel herself too high; but for a moment, she let go of her fear, and of gravity, and her stomach dropped—
Then, there was just peace. Silence. Weightlessness.
She opened her eyes and nearly vomited. The land was so far from her feet. She gasped and fell, screaming, hands pinwheeling, before stopping herself.
Breathe, she commanded.
Hurriedly, she studied the coast, the islands nearby. She had memorized the map by now. This was it.
This was Isla.
With the rush of relief, she lost her grip on the sky, and fell—the ground rushed up to meet her.
She shot her arm out, and a burst of energy helped cushion her fall. Still, she landed roughly against the sand.
Every bone and muscle ached, but she forced herself up, because she had found it—the island only her father seemed to know about.
From the sky, she had seen just how large the island was, but tonight, she would start with this forest. As soon as she took a step inside, it seemed to quiet.
Isla went still. She couldn’t believe what she was seeing.
Fruit, everywhere. Hanging plump from trees, the forest was heavy with it. The ground smelled sweet from the fruit that had fallen and broken open. She reached up and grabbed one, smelling it, recognizing it. This was a variety Poppy had fed her as a child once, and never again. Isla had asked, and Terra had said the tree had died.
Because of her.
Because of her powerlessness.
Now, she knew that had been a lie. So many lies.
Isla bit into the fruit and groaned. Its yellow juice dripped down her face as she ate ravenously. It was the sweetest variety she had ever eaten, and there were dozens of them—hundreds—hanging right there.
It was impossible. Nightshade didn’t have many varieties of fresh fruit. In the aftermath of the storms, it was barely getting by, yet there was this land with endless food. Endless resources.
How did Grim not know about it?
She quickly used her abilities to weave a basket with vines. She filled it to the brim with fruit, portaled into a Nightshade village, left it on a doorstep, and did it again. Again. Again. Until her arms were sore, and that tiny patch of island was bare.
A small difference, but a difference all the same. Trying, she thought, with a bite of bitterness in her chest.
She spent the rest of the night eating her way through the woods, trying everything. Eventually, the native creatures seemed to get used to her presence, because the snakes began to slither. The birds began to call to each other. A boar with wild, twisted horns darted in front of her and was gone.
By the time Isla found a pool where she could scrub the salt and sand from her skin, she wondered if her father’s biggest secret wasn’t his own death, his wife, his child—
