Page 41 of A Song of Saints and Swans
Maybe I should say “Open Sesame.”
Apparently, no magical phrase was necessary, as a doorway suddenly appeared in the ancient trunk, revealing a narrow passageway. Trusting that I wasn’t about to become entrapped like a cursed forest spirit, I squared my shoulders and entered the World Tree.
The walls were covered in something that gave off a dull phosphorescence, but the primary source of light was from the pulsing glow up ahead. Following this beacon, I soon arrived at a small antechamber containing a rough-hewn pedestal holding a large white stone.
TheAlatyr.
My knees almost buckled at the realization of what I was in the presence of. While I already knew I was more than just a shifter, it was difficult to feel worthy of such an honor.
Who amIto end up here?
“Who are you, indeed?” A disembodied voice nearly scared me out of my skin.
Considering I was possibly speaking to a sacred stone, I understandably found myself tongue-tied. “I… I don’t know who I am. That’s kind of why I’m here.”
Smooth, Anthia.
The voice chuckled, although whether it was at my foolish answer or self-deprecating thoughts, I couldn’t be sure.
Probably both.
“You already know who you are, deep in your bones,” the voice replied with so much certainty, I straightened. “But let’s see what the stone has to say.”
It’s time to face the truth.
As I closed the distance to the stone, I realized just how out of my depths I was. “I’m not sure how to find the answers I seek,” I admitted. “I’m no seer, like Marena…”
The voice was kind, patient. “Yes, your consort was blessed with the gift of second sight, but all creatures possess intuition. In beasts, one might call it instinct, but as you exist in both the human and animal worlds, perhaps you’re a master of both.”
I huffed a laugh. “All that means is any shifter could stand in my place right now.”
The voice hummed. “We both know that’s not true. Don’t be scared, daughter of the sea. Place your hand on theAlatyr.”
I was about to insist Iwasn’tscared before realizing that would be a lie. While I’d known Gerard wasn’t my father, and that I wasn’t a typical shifter, I’d steadily built my entire identity off ofnotknowing who I was.
Yes, the purpose of this journey was to finally uncover my heritage, but now that I was being offered answers, I wondered how prepared I was to hear them.
But we’re never completely ready, are we?
Raising my hand, I paused with it in mid-air, my attention caught on something the voice had said. “You mentioned Marena as my consort, but not Jarilo.” I swallowed hard. “Is he… is he going to be okay?”
I can’t lose him.
The voice was silent for a moment, and I feared that meant the news wasn’t good. When it spoke again, its tone was gentle. “The answers you seek are in the stone. You need to trust, Anthia.”
Trust in who?
An internal debate overtrustseemed ridiculous, considering I was blindly taking advice from a disembodied voice inside a mystical tree as old as time. But fate had led me here. If I was going to trust in anything, my own path seemed a safe place to start.
I could also trust in myself.
Blowing out a breath, I steeled my spine, and placed my hand on the stone.
Immediately, I was hit with the sensation of being plunged underwater. Forcefully dragged toward the depths, I flailed helplessly, but just as I feared I might drown, I landed in the middle of a throne room.
The floor was inlaid with sea glass, smoothed over with time, and the walls shimmered and flowed like water, casting a hazy, bluish glow over the room.
Where in Atlantis am I?
