Page 147 of Bloodwitch

Once it was done, his lungs breathed fully. His heart boomed strong, and for the first time in his twenty years of existence, Aeduan knew who he was and what he had to do.

He straightened.

He joined the fight.

For the Cahr Awen.

Iseult’s footsteps echoed off the tunnel walls. Her breaths carved in and out. Steady. Trained for this, and bolstered by the power of the Well.

She was running. Again. Always running. The light from the valley, from the moon showed her the way, but when a bend in the tunnel stole that, she walked with arms outstretched. Straining to remember what had been here when she and Leopold had come this way.

Leopold, Leopold.She had left him. Curse her, she had left him and that guilt would crown her for the rest of her days—as would leaving Aeduan. Every few seconds, she looked back, praying she might see his face in the darkness. Praying she would hear Threadless breaths and know he had arrived.

But he did not come, and she kept moving. Until faint flickers of light glowed ahead, spurring her faster. She rounded a bend, reaching the fork in the path from before.

She slung to a halt. Even staggered back two steps. On the ground at the center was a candle—thecandle Leopold had carried. Thanks to the magic within, the wax had not melted. The wick burned strong.

It was the bodies, though, that made Iseult’s heart drop low. Raiders and monks were locked in place, not so different from what Aeduan had done, except these people were held by stone. As if hewn from the tunnel’s granite, yet more real than any sculptor could ever produce.

Owl.Iseult had no doubt. The girl had been here. Both forks in the path, the one toward the Monastery and the other to the unknown beyond, were filled with stone fighters.

Threads skated into Iseult’s awareness, stunned and horrified. Confused and even relieved. Then a voice came, authority strong in her command: “Continue on!”

Iseult bolted for the tunnel out of the Monastery. She snagged the candle as she sprinted past, and right as the first Threads barreled into the cavern, she dove onto the ascending path. More stone monks, more stone raiders. She dipped and spun around them, accelerating even as the tunnel’s incline sharpened.

Then it became stairs, and though her breath scorched in her lungs, Iseult hopped them two at a time. The air sharpened, and frost glistened on the walls. The steps, though, were now layered in gravel. A clear line upward—as if an Earthwitch had come this way.

Iseult pushed her body even harder, and soon, moonlight and winter washed against her. She sprinted the final distance into the night.

Snow-dipped fir trees surrounded her. Wind kicked, and the first tendrils of dawn reached across the sky. Even here—whereverheremight be—the sounds of battle and fire sang. Distant, though. Too far to sense Threads, too far for Iseult to even pinpoint a direction.

Except thereweretwo sets of Threads near enough for her to feel, and they waited straight ahead. One set radiated brilliant green with the power of an Earthwitch, and the other bore a heart of churning, stormy blue.

Iseult reached Owl and Leopold in seconds. They waited ahead beside two piles of boulders, and at the sound of Iseult’s feet, Leopold whirled about. Then his Threads ignited with such pure relief, it hurt Iseult’s eyes. Meanwhile, Owl’s Threads tinged pink with delight, while the girl herself, filthy with dirt, grinned ear to ear in a way Iseult had never seen before. Such happiness. Such warmth.

Iseult almost wept at the sight of her.

No, shedidweep. Tears flecked from her eyes, and she realized she had been wrong before. Back at the sky-ferry. The warmth in her chestwaslove, for this strange child who was not a child at all.

“You were slow,” Owl said, and before Iseult could process what that even meant, Leopold reached Iseult. Without warning and with one arm in a sling, he pulled her into an embrace. She was so startled, she did not resist it—and his Threads, such icy relief, such sunset happiness and mossy concern, briefly veiled the world around them. “I lost you on the river,” he said. “I could not find you, and I thought it was all over.”

No,Iseult thought, pulling back.I left you.She would confess that to him later, though.

“We have to go,” she told him in Cartorran. “Raiders and monks are coming this way…” She trailed off as the meaning of the scene suddenly sifted into place. Owl. Leopold. Together with two heaps of stones behind them.

“What are you doing?” She put the question to Leopold first, then in Nomatsi for Owl.

And Owl was the one to answer. “Leaving,” she said simply. “I know the way.” Then she turned to the smaller stone pile and levitated a boulder. It crashed onto the other pile with such force, the ground shook. Snow fell from the trees.

“The bat found me,” Leopold explained. “I was surrounded on all sides, and he scared them off. Then Owl was there, and I followed her.” He shook his head, incredulity in his Threads and on his face. As if he still did not understand what had happened or why.

Crash, crash.Rocks gathered. Owl’s Threads shone. The wind blew on and on.

“What is she, Iseult?” Leopold asked, watching the girl. “She is no mere child.”

“No,” Iseult agreed, but she had no answer beyond that. Owl was special, and that was all she knew.

“This way,” Owl interrupted, and in a burst of stone and speed, she launched the final boulder away, revealing a hole in the earth like a bear’s den that emanated blue light.