“Poor Garren…” Isolde sighed.
“What is he to you, anyway?”
“He was my father’s personal guard for a very long time,” she replied, her eyes on the other man’s back. “Always around; like an uncle to me, of sorts. He retired less than a year ago, even though he’s not that old. I thought there must have been some kind of disagreement between them. Of course, no one told me anything. My father said Garren was happy to be away from the estate, enjoying his retirement. Now he’s out here instead, dealing with all of this… dealing with me.”
She didn’t add what she sensed in Garren’s look sometimes, that she was a responsibility he never asked for. That he was disappointed in her, the only child of the man he was endlessly loyal to, looked up to. That she didn’t live up to his expectations, like she didn’t live up to her father’s.
“And Luella?” Felix asked.
“I don’t know her very well, but she and Garren supposedly go a long way back. But she’s been with my family for years, the best scout we have. I believe she is from the Gotvig Islands originally, but left when she was very young. She doesn’t talk about herself much. It seems to be a bit of a recurring theme in this group.” She grinned widely at Felix as she said the last part.
“Ouch, Isa, right in the gut,” Felix chuckled.
“Isa?!” She glared at him.
“You don’t like it? It suits you.”
“Isolde is not so long that it needs a diminutive! And there isn’t even an ‘A’ in my name!” She lifted her chin, pretending to be scandalised, which only made Felix laugh.
“You told me your governess used to call you Izzy. Isa is much better.”
“When I was seven!” She retorted. “I’m twenty-five; I don’t need a nickname.”
He shrugged, still grinning at her. “Tough – you’re stuck with it now.”
She huffed, sticking her nose in the air, but she had no chance of preventing a smile from creeping onto her face.
***
They came upon the ley line not long into their morning ride a few days later. It appeared as a shimmering ribbon of blue, slicing through the landscape, sparkling even beneath the gloomy clouds, but Isolde felt it before she saw it. A whispering in the back of her head, incomprehensible but undoubtedly there. Logically, she should fear it. Her last experience with a ley line had been life-altering and terrifying. But somehow she didn’t. It called out to her, and all she wanted was to answer the call.
As they approached, an unnatural hush seemed to descend, the world itself holding its breath. The wind stilled, the birds fell silent, and the horses were restless. They threw their heads and snorted, their ears flicking.
Luella halted her horse and turned back, her face drawn with a deep frown. “It cuts right across our path. There’s no avoiding it. We’ll have to cross.”
Isolde did not meet any of their eyes. She didn’t think she could look away from the ley line if she tried.
“Let’s get it over with,” Garren said, his voice gruff.
They moved forward cautiously, but the closer they got, the less the world around her existed at all. The ley line pulled at her, drew her in. When she was only a few steps away, she slipped off Shadow and continued on foot as if in a trance. There were voices behind her, but she did not register what was said. The whispering increased to a roar.
Isolde stood at the very edge of the sparkling surface. It was shiny enough to be reflective, but she did not see her own mirror image in it. She only saw the endless blue. The endless magic, the endless power.
She stepped onto the ley line and was swallowed by light.
It was just like midsummer night at first. Pain and pleasure both, but also not; like falling, like drowning. Overwhelming and all-consuming. She squeezed her eyes closed and swayed on her feet, barely staying upright. Magic surged inside her, through her, clinging to her hair and skin. It pulled at her, demanding her focus, drawing her inward.
There was only light and flood, but soon there was something else as well. Something vast and ancient. Something alive. Once Isolde was aware of it, it showed her things. Feelings, emotions she felt as keenly as if they were her own. Pain, hopelessness, desperation. More pain. Then she… died? Not once, but many times. It was too much. She was unravelling; she was losing herself. Enough, she thought, pushing back against the presence as it kept itself wrapped around her. This is enough. I see you, but this is enough.
Her eyes snapped open, and she sank to her knees, her hands flat on the ground. The glowing light receded, withdrawing into the eternal blue. The noise dimmed, the pain became a memory. Her breath came in shallow gasps, and tears rolled down her face, the droplets shattering on the surface of the ley line.
Felix was next to her. She could not hear him at first, but when his hand covered hers, she surfaced.
“What happened?”
Isolde had to pull fragments of her soul back into her body, then remember how to use that body to speak. “It is alive,” she managed finally, in a whisper that was barely audible.
“The ley line is alive?”
