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“Who forges weapons in the Source?”

“Source forged weapons all came from before the fall of Nightshade, love,” Ambrose replied. “The forge might still existon the mountain somewhere, but I couldn’t tell you how to use it.”

“Well then what are you suggesting?” Scion snapped.

Ambrose looked at me again. “Source fire, love.”

My eyes widened, and I realized what he was expecting me to do–had probably always meant for me to do–and it made sense. It seemed right. Seemed poetic even that we’d all be here to witness it.

Three very different jewels, brought together to unite one crown, and the weapon who would forge them into something new.

37

LONNIE

AFTERMATH

That night, I used my fire to forge the jewels back into one crown.

For once, something felt easy. There were no hiccups, no accidental house fires, and no attacks from prowling monsters. I went to sleep hopeful, nearly excited for the following morning when we’d take the crown up the mountain to the Source.

In the morning, however, nothing felt quite so magical.

I stared out the tiny window in the kitchen. It was barely dawn, the sky a mix of peach and violent purple against a backdrop of gray.

I couldn’t precisely see the Source from here, but I could see the base of the mountain that cradled it. I wondered which path my mother took up the mountain. It seemed absurd to climb to the top with an infant, after just giving birth no less.

Not only absurd, but impossible. It simply couldn’t have happened the way she remembered it. She would have died.

Unless…a tiny voice in the back of my head whispered.Unless there was some kind of Godly intervention.

Was that crazy? Was it crazier than the idea of a sixteen year old new mother climbing an active volcano with her baby, and coming out unscathed?

Somehow, I didn’t think it was. I was starting to convince myself that there must have been some magic at work that day.

That Aisling had chosen me herself.

I realized that subconsciously I’d been viewing Aisling as an evil figure. As the one who’d cursed the men I loved and made it impossible for any of us to be happy.

But that wasn’t right at all.

Aisling had been a queen as well. She’d had three mates of her own. She had children, and subjects who she took care of. She’d brought down this curse on the Everlasts out of grief, and possibly, out of a desire to see her kingdom thrive again. And then when she saw the opportunity, she gave me the power to carry that plan out for her.

The only thing I couldn’t understand was: why me?

It was the one thing I really wished I could understand as we prepared to go up the mountain. What made me the vessel for her plans? Why did the Source erupt on my birthday? What was I supposed to do when I reached the top of that looming jagged horizon?

Bael’s dragonhad waited for us in the meadow overnight, and now we sat atop its back again, climbing higher and higher into the sky.

We didn’t talk.

Surely no one wanted to voice our fears aloud—but I was sure that we were all thinking the same thing: We could, and very likely would, die today.

And the longer I looked at the mountains, the more uneasy I felt. The more I couldn’t banish the memories of that…vision…I’d had when I may have died.

A large part of me hoped this would all be simple. That reuniting the jewels with the crown would be all it took to break the curse, and that Idris would be easily removed right along with it.

But I wasn’t that naive. Not anymore. Even if I fixed the crown, surely there would be more.