“Not the ley line, something else. Something connected to it.”
“Come, get up. Can you stand?” He tried to take her hand in his and help her up, but she couldn’t. Her body was not fully her own, still tethered to the stream.
“Not yet. I need some time. Please.”
Felix seemed to hesitate, but nodded and got to his feet.
She heard Garren’s voice, and Felix’s reply. “No. She said she needs time.”
There was a flash of gratitude, but it was gone as quickly as it came, submerged in the torrent of other emotions that filled her. She didn’t know how long shestayed like that, kneeling in the fading light, trying to make sense of it all. The magic no longer raged, but receded to the quiet current that had been her constant companion since midsummer night.
Eventually, when she could move again, she rose to her feet. Her limbs were heavy; her body hollow. She had more questions now than ever before, and no one to answer any of them. Resigned, she walked back to Shadow in silence.
“We should continue,” she said. Her voice sounded hoarse, as if she had been screaming.
“My lady, rest first,” Garren insisted, stepping forward. “You need to recover.”
“No.” Her tone was sharper than she meant it to be, but they had to keep moving. Had to get to the Nexus. It was the only thing she was completely certain of, and she clung to it like a lifeline.
She climbed back into the saddle, gritting her teeth against the shaking in her limbs. She kept her eyes closed as she crossed the ley line again, willing herself to remain upright.
Luella and Garren flanked her, asking questions she barely heard. She ignored them. They wanted answers she did not have. Eventually, they gave up.
Felix’s gaze was on her back the rest of the day, but he never approached her. She wasn’t sure if it was a relief or a disappointment.
***
The ley line changed her.
Not in any useful way – it had provided no revelations nor answers – but in the very depths of her soul. The visions of pain and death faded, but the memory remained, and the one revelation she had was that things were very, very wrong at the Nexus, and that she had to get there to do something about it. It filled her with dread, but also with determination.
When they made camp that evening, Luella approached Isolde as she headed for her tent, concern on the scout’s face.
“Are you alright?” she asked. “You’ve barely talked since we crossed.”
“I saw… things.” Isolde hesitated before continuing. “It’s hard to explain. I don’t know what to make of it. If only I knew more about the Nexus, about the ley lines. I’m flailing around in the dark.”
Luella nodded seriously. “You did not choose this, but it chose you. That is never an easy burden to bear. I hope more answers will come,” she said quietly. “In the meantime, I think you should do what feels right. Just… be careful.”
Isolde blinked in surprise. “I will be. Thank you, Luella.”
The other woman gave Isolde's hand a quick squeeze, then let her be. Eventually, she sought solitude in her tent. The magic came to her fingertips faster than ever before, allowing her to manipulate it as easily as clay or dough. She tried to understand it on a deeper level. Not only how it could move things or lift things, but how it connected to her. How it flowed through her. She did not know how many hours she spent, only that she woke up the next morning in an awkward position, with a pounding headache, her clothes still on. She repeated it each night after that.
Over the following days, it was as if her mood continued to seep into the world around them. Heavy, dark clouds rolled across the sky, moved along by a fierce wind. One morning, rain started coming down in sheets, cold and stinging. The gale lashed at her cloak, tore at her hood. Her wet hair clung to her cheeks. The path ahead turned to muck, and their horses plodded forward at a snail’s pace. Isolde heard voices behind her, faint through the storm, Luella and Felix arguing? She didn’t turn back.
Luella diverted her horse off the trail, guiding the group through the drenched hills. The landscape grew trickier to navigate as the rain turned the ground to slick mud, and soon enough, they had to dismount and lead their horses by the reins. Isolde’s boots slipped on the uneven path as she struggled to guide Shadow across the rocks.
The storm picked up, its howling whistle cutting through the valleys and making their progress even slower. Finally, Luella led them to a rocky overhang in the hillside. The shelter wasn’t much, a shallow cave shielded by a jagged ledge that extended out far enough to block some of the rain, though the gale still tore through the small refuge.
Isolde’s fingers were stiff with cold by the time she sank down near Luella, who was trying to light a fire. Sparks fizzled and died again and again, the wind laughing in their faces.
The horses were skittish, their ears flicking nervously. A crack of lightning lit up the darkened sky, followed by a deafening clap of thunder. Shadow reared, and Felix cursed, struggling to control the animals before someone got kicked in the head.
Isolde leaned forward, past Luella, ignoring Garren’s sharp warning. Her clothes were soaked through, she was shivering with cold, and yet the magic wasright there,humming under her skin, wanting to be used.
She extended her hand toward the sodden little pile of wood. The wind lashed rain into their meagre shelter. The current rose inside her, spiralling up and out, and she let it go. A single spark bloomed, then another. It was almost too easy. The fire caught eagerly, bright and warm. What was more, it obeyed her. She marvelled at it; her magic was not only force, it was energy. It felt like something alive. Maybe it was.
The change was immediate. The horses’ panic ebbed away, their ears swivelling forward, their eyes no longer wild with fear. As if she had not just made a fire, but also summoned a bubble of calm to shield them from the storm. Even the wind seemed to ease, its howl retreating to a distant wail. The fire crackled, casting warmth and light. Felix caught her eye across the flames and smiled. For the first time since they’d crossed the ley line, she regained a tiny measure of strength.
