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ROWAN

“It feels as if we are descending into the pits of hell.”

“Humans,” Marek muttered on the steps below him. “I’d have been down there by now if not for those feet of yours.”

“I’ll have you remember, you have feet too.”

“True. But I also have the ability to summon enough water to ride down these steps. And up, too. Although that takes more skill.” Marek turned to look up to me. Grinning, he added, “Skill I have, of course.”

“Of course,” I said with an eye roll for his benefit. “I’m guessing I have to walk back up?”

“Only way in and out, unfortunately.”

“Why steps? I assume only Thalassarians, as a general rule, come down here?”

“One of the Deep Archives’ many mysteries.”

And just like that, Marek disappeared. A few seconds later, I joined him.

“Not the pits of hell. Below the sea’s surface.”

It was unlike anything I’d ever seen before. Even the Aetherian capital of Aethralis, built among the mountains so high they reached the clouds, was not as impressive.

Walls and pillars, seemingly carved from flowing water, its blue, glowing light reminding me of the Garden of Luminous Tides. Above us, light mimicked sunlight peeking through the water. Surely, we’d not walked to a space at the bottom of the sea, but that was precisely how it appeared. There was no sound besides the gentle one of trickling water, occasionally punctuated by the echoes of splashes and distant waves.

“This place is…” I had no words to describe it.

“Only problem,” Marek said, striding ahead and clearly less impressed than me. “Too many books.”

As we moved forward, rows and rows of books and scrolls, encased in shimmering, protective bubbles of water, were tucked into niches in the walls. I couldn’t imagine where one would start reading or how you went about finding what you needed.

More importantly, how would we find Seren? Marek admitted to never spending much time here, and though I was impressed that he was able to break in using some crystal and who knew what black magic he’d conjured, I wasn’t convinced we’d get much further without some guidance.

Look down.

It was the same feeling that came over me with my visions, but instead, this was a voice. One my grandfather had not prepared us for. To my knowledge, he saw things but did not hear them. On the other hand, he often said The Keeper of each generation possessed unique skills the others did not.

When I looked down, a faint, blue line appeared. Marek, ahead of me again, didn’t seem to notice. But when he took a left turn, I stopped him, pointing down. The line continued straight.

“What in the Tides is that?”

“I’m not certain,” I admitted. “But maybe some sort of guidance?”

I caught up with him, Marek on high alert now. He took in our surroundings, and then apparently deciding the line wasn’t a threat in any way, began to follow it. We passed row after row of “shelves,” periodically punctuated by some sort of small, reflective pools. When the line suddenly stopped at a wall, Marek and I looked at each other.

“That worked well,” he said, Marek’s voice laced with sarcasm.

When the water that made up the wall suddenly fell to a trickle, revealing an inner chamber that looked suspiciously familiar, I smiled, triumphant.

“Aye, it did.”

We stepped forward, but a voice stopped us.

“The human only.”

Where had that come from? One second, the chamber was empty. The next, a figure rose from the pool of water at its center. A woman. A vaelith. She was as old as anyone in Elydor by the looks of her. At the same time, she moved with the ease and grace of a younger Thalassari. Her clothing dripped with a wetness that, with one swoop of her hand, disappeared.

Her bright-blue eyes narrowed.

“Marek. You are not ready.”

“Ready for what?”

In response, she shooed him backwards. “He will rejoin you shortly. Someone comes who you must attend to.”

“What do you mean, someone?—”

The sound of voices carried to us then, but apparently, Marek had stepped back far enough that I wouldn’t find out who the voices belonged to. The wall of water that had hidden this chamber was now firmly again in place.

“Sir Rowan of Estmere, I presume?”

Bowing to her, I said, “Indeed. Do I have the pleasure of speaking to Seren?”

When I stood, she was watching me closely.

“Good guess, my human friend. Nerithia tells me you wish to send a message back to Estmere. Is it true? You are The Keeper?”

Nerithia betrayed me.

“What do you know of The Keeper?” I asked, hoping to minimize the damage Nerithia may have wrought. Throughout our history, each time a non-Harrow family member learned of our secret, someone paid the price. Now, because of me?—

“I know quite a bit. More than you, I would venture.”

“Impossible,” I blurted before thinking.

The wrinkles on the edges of Seren’s eyes deepened as she smiled. “All things are possible. Sometimes, we simply do not like the cost of making them so.”

I tried again. “Only Keepers know of The Keeper, and you are…”

Her smile deepened. Seren was one step away from laughing at me now, as if she had a secret more far-reaching than any of my own.

Nerithia was half-human, a long-lost member of our network. But Seren could not be the same. Those with human blood may gain some measure of immortality, demi-mortal as it was termed, but they did not live for more than a thousand years. And there was no doubt Seren was vaelith. If she were, my grandfather would know of her. Would have told me of her presence here. Unlike Nerithia, whom he did not know existed.

“Have you worked it out yet? Or have you forgotten your abilities?”

Of course. I had, in fact, forgotten them temporarily. Opening my senses to her, I was immediately flooded with one pervading emotion.

Hope.

But it did little to solve the puzzle Seren presented.

“I—”

“ All of your abilities.”

Still unaccustomed to the new ones, and uncertain if I could do again what I accomplished in the palace corridor, I nevertheless attempted to clear my mind. To accept what was offered. At first, nothing happened. But then I saw it. A glimmer of light, brighter than the others, from above. I looked up, watched as it moved and swirled through the water, taking shape. It was a child, a young one as the Elydorians would call her. Long, flowing hair, but no face that I could recognize. She was sitting, cross-legged on the ground, reading a book. A man came to her, scooped her up, and the girl laughed, dropping her book. A woman joined them, one as sea-born as they came. A Thalassari. But the man? His hair and skin were dark. His tunic bore the crest of…

The vision disappeared.

“What did you see?”

“There was something… different about this one,” I said, realizing Seren could not, should not, know of my visions. But she did.

“Describe the difference.”

“I cannot… you are not?—”

“The winds remember the first crossing, and the stone keeps their weight. Now, describe it.”

She was a Keeper. And yet, could not be so. But I found myself wanting to tell her.

“A light around it, as if the vision glowed. Or perhaps not a glow, precisely: an aurora.”

“Of past memories.”

I blinked. “That is not…” I wanted to say “possible,” but she would only chastise me again. “I heard a voice,” I said. “Instead of a vision. Telling me to look down. I thought that was my unique ability but… nothing makes sense.”

Seren sighed. “I would tell you all, but there is a reason for you to work it out yourself. The same reason your grandfather did not tell you of me.”

My eyes widened. “He knew of you?”

A reason for me to work it out myself.

That was the least difficult of her riddles. The Keepers valued discernment.

The same reason your grandfather did not tell you of me.

He knew a Keeper, a vaelith, resided in Thalassaria, but said nothing of her. He wanted me to find her myself. In doing so, I was fulfilling a prophecy. Not as The Keeper, but a Keeper. Sharpening my mind, my skills. Would he have told me if he knew I would become his successor? Likely. But the chances of it, with so many others in our network…

I digressed.

He knew. And she knew the code, which means she was a Keeper despite the fact that no human survived as long as she had. That made little sense, but was nonetheless true. And it was also true that I had heard a voice, and that vision was different than the others. Could more than one unique ability manifest in me? It seemed to be so.

“You are a Keeper,” I said. “So half-human, and yet are more than demi-immortal. Which is only one of the puzzles before me, since I also seem to be developing more than one unique ability as my grandfather neither heard voices nor received memories of the past.”

“Both of your presumptions are correct. What did you see?” she asked again.

“A young girl,” I said. “You?”

She waited for me to continue.

“Sitting on the ground, reading. A man, human I believe, picked her up. Picked you up.” It was Seren in my vision. A human father and a Thalassari mother. “And your mother was there too.”

“My mother was a Thalassari scholar. She spent her days in here, the Deep Archives holding her life’s work. She’d been, as so many before her, drawn to human ingenuity. Of course, she never imagined meeting one, as the Gate had not yet been opened. When it did, many years later, and my father, a human explorer, found his way to Thalassaria, they were drawn to each other, partnering a short time after he arrived. The scene you witnessed was one of many from my childhood, here among these archives.”

“A Thalassari and a human. Back then, it must have been?—”

“Quite scandalous, to be certain. But since my mother spent much of her time here, believing the Deep Archives held answers about her and my father’s place in both worlds, it did not bother her. I was born of their union, and from the start, could sense the Archives’ magic in a way no one else could, even my mother.”

“Your father was a Harrow,” I said, knowing he had to be for Seren to be a Keeper. She watched me, as if expecting more. What more could there be? Unless… “Impossible.”

“I really must insist you stop using that word.”

“Richard Harrow lived in Aetheria for much of his life, before Estmere existed.”

“Not Richard,” she said of the first human to enter the Gate. The first Keeper. “His son, of which he had three.”

“One of which became the second Keeper. The others founded Estmere.”

“My uncles did indeed, with the help of King Galfrid, of course.”

My uncles.

“Your father was Caius Harrow.”

She smiled.

“The history books say little of the second Keeper.”

“For good reason. He lived here, and as you can see, we are quite secluded.”

“But The Keeper… lives in Estmere. Among his, or her, people.”

“Not always.”

Heart racing, I waited for her to continue.

“The original role of The Keeper, known then as the First Harrow and the Second Harrow, and so on, was to keep the knowledge of the Gate, of The Crooked Key. And later, of the visions that were unique to one in each generation. But what are visions if humans are not fully accepted as Elydorians? That was my uncle’s role, and the role of each of the Keepers that succeeded him.”

My mind raced. “The voice I heard, was that yours?”

“Not in the way you are thinking. Over time, my bond with the Archives deepened.” She looked around us, my gaze following hers. “I am its guardian, and in turn, its waters sustain me. I knew when you entered, knew immediately you would fulfill the prophecy. The reason, I believe, is that the Archives’ magic sustains me.”

She was vaelith because of her connection to this place. I’d never heard of something like it before. Elydor’s magic never ceased to amaze me. But that still didn’t explain the voice.

“Prophecy?” I asked, just realizing fully what she’d said.

“One I discovered centuries ago, hidden among the scrolls that have taken my lifetime to read. How did you find me?”

Her abrupt change of topic startled me. “I… A voice told me to look down. When I did, a glowing line led to you.”

“The Archives aid those whose intentions are pure, though not usually in such a way. But you are The Keeper, so it does not surprise me you were led directly here. As to the prophecy… when King Balthor closed the Aetherian Gate, I searched for clues on how to reopen it. Beyond a connection to the original artifacts each clan was gifted to enhance their leader’s abilities, I was unable to discover anything of more use to King Galfrid. However, like you, I was led to an ancient text. In it, a long-lost prophecy that would have meant little to me before. ‘When the bridge falters and the realms fracture, a child of two paths will guide The Keeper to their destiny.’ For the first time, I understood why I’d been kept alive these many years.”

A child of two paths. Seren.

“What does it mean? What is my destiny?”

The hope that swelled within me was immediately dashed at Seren’s expression. If she were to guide me, to restore the Gate between this world and the one of my ancestors, Seren did not know how. She was as confused as me.

“Perhaps you can tell me why you are here?”

I told Seren of my mission. Of visiting The Moonlit Current and meeting Nerithia and returning to receive her message. I told her of Nerys’s plan, and as I spoke, her cool eyes seemed to warm. Opening myself to her, I felt hope, but also understanding. She’d put the puzzle pieces together, I was sure of it.

“Does it make sense to you now?” I asked. “Do you know my destiny?”

“I do,” she said with a sigh that felt, to me, a long time in coming. “Sometimes, we fight what we know to be true because it is not the path we expected. Accept what is, be where your feet are, and you’ll find peace, Sir Rowan of Estmere. And with luck, I will too.”