Page 68 of Reign of Light
She nods rapidly, no longer questioning Weston’s authority in the slightest before she turns to me. “Lennox, is this real?”
“Yes, Mara. It’s very real.”
Her composure threatens to fall, but she holds it together before spinning back toward the Voyagers.
“Put the fire out! Everyone, get your stuff from your bunk and get to the ship!”
I don’t have time to see anyone’s reactions before Weston is pulling me back through the portal, and we’re running, racing against an uncertain amount of time and hoping that the island doesn’t take away the hope it just gave us.
I breathe a sigh of relief when the glow comes into view, and the tension in Weston’s hand loosens. It didn’t disappear. Our chance isn’t gone.
We can all get home.
This is real.
“Did you get it?” Sig yells when she sees us approaching.
“Yes,” Weston grunts, coming to a stop in front of them. “Any idea how to get it?”
“I tried to climb,” Jorn says. “But the bark is so slick and the trunks are too wide, I couldn’t get a grip. I thought you could hoist me up, but there are no holds low enough.”
Weston scrubs a hand over his mouth as he looks up at the trees, still glowing brightly above us.
“It wouldn’t finally appear just to keep it from us, would it?” Sig asks.
“I hope not,” Weston says.
We can’t have gotten this far, been this close to having a way home, and can’t collect it. There has got to be something we are missing, something that we need to do to make it more accessible.
Unless this is just another way the island is protecting the magic.
The thought makes my stomach sink.
“It doesn’t make sense,” I say, as my mind tumbles over everything we know from all the searching and through all our theories. “Jorn can climb anything, but can’t get up there.” I turn to Sig. “You said the Guardian was a kind old man, the one who brought you here. How could the island expect him to get the dust all the way up there if none of us can?”
Sig starts to answer, but stops, her mouth closing slowly as she tries to think it through.
“We’re missing something,” Weston mumbles, and continues to look around. He raises his hand, his gaze lowering to the pouch he has clenched in it, before looking back at the grove. Taking slow steps toward the nearest glowing tree, he holds the pouch out toward the trunk, placing his hand on the bark.
Splitting and crunching and cracking meet my ears, and a stunned gasp tears from my throat. The tree comes to life. The bark ripples, and Weston startles back as chunks of the wood burst from the trunk, creating…steps.
My jaw falls open as a staircase forms before our eyes, winding around the trunk and weaving through the branches above. Weston doesn’t hesitate. He dashes up the steps, and I crane my neck to watch as he reaches the first glowing branch. Steadying himself on the trunk, he reaches out and plucks the nearest glowing bloom. The light illuminates his face as he looks inside the petals, and immediately wrestles the pouch open with his other hand, turning the flower over in the opening.
The glimmering petals fade before our eyes, the only glow present now deep inside the pouch, the same as when Dane opened it to bring me to the fountain.
“Holy shit,” Sig breathes next to me, and Jorn lets out a loud crow.
The cheer snaps Weston out of the trance he was in, staring down into the pouch that is begging to be filled. It’s as if a fire is lit inside him. He reaches for the next flower, dumping the contents into the opening, and repeats his steps until there isn’t a single flower left on the branch and he can move on to the next one. He works quickly, following the winding steps up to the very top until it is no longer glowing and gallops down the steps to move to the next one.
“Here, give it. I want to help,” Jorn says, extending his hand toward Weston.
He hands Jorn the pouch without hesitation, and Jorn approaches the next tree. Steps appear just as they had with Weston, and Jorn runs, crowing again as he reaches the first branch.
Tears prick at my eyes just as I feel Weston press firmly into my back. His arms wrap around my shoulders, crossing over my chest as he squeezes me into him, the rough stubble on his cheek settling into my hair.
“How was it this simple?” he murmurs, and I can hear the awe and disbelief. “How did we never see it before?”
I stand in silence for a moment, watching Jorn scamper up the steps to the next branch and start plucking flowers. Sig stands below the tree, hands on her hips and her neck craned to watch him, no doubt making sure he doesn’t do something stupid or risky in the excitement. I wouldn’t put it past Jorn.
