I can’t remember where or from whom, but at one point I heard time is like a river. Maybe it was Disney’s Pocahontas, or perhaps it was that super-nerdy kid Greg in fourth grade who always went on and on about The Legend of Zelda. Either way, I’m stealing the phrase. Because as we follow the shore along the Docolora River, one thing is certain.
You can’t stop time.
It’s always flowing and changing. You can try to pause its course, even alter it. But it continues moving and eventually builds up and bursts free, pouring over the dam you created. The flow of time is inevitable. Fight it or go with it. But no matter what you do, you can’t turn back. I think Dimitri was wrong in that regard. He said time is a loop, but how can it be?
No one can change the past.
I rub my droopy eyes, checking to ensure, once again, that I didn’t leave Dimitri’s journal behind. I read late into the night until the last flicker of campfire faded. The chapter on mirrorglass only confirmed Ky’s assumption that the crown had something to do with recent catastrophic events. I draw it to the surface of my mind, using my Scrib memory to recall every detail.
Second Day, Twelfth Month, Eleventh Year of Count VonKemp
I have confirmed mirrorglass may be molded into weapons and tools when melted by the flame of Dragon’s breath. Dragons are sly, vicious creatures. To behold their breath and live to tell the tale would be a rare feat indeed, making items fashioned from mirrorglass a valuable commodity. Should one come across such an item, I would advise he guard it with his life.
My gaze falls to Ky a few feet ahead. His bare back is toward me, his shirt wrapped around his head like a turban. His mirrorglass blade is sheathed at his side. I’ve never asked him who originally gave it to him. I’d search his thoughts, but I have a feeling that’s a story he needs to share when he’s ready. Instead I let my mind wander back to Dimitri’s words. Let them sink in like the last note of a truly profound piece.
What is perhaps truly the most fascinating feature of mirrorglass is its effects on light and darkness. The reverse effect seems to turn darkness into light and vice versa. If I had not witnessed it with my own eyes, I would not believe it myself. But when exposed to light, the mirrorglass turns dark, and when darkness hits it? The stuff reflects back light. It is quite the sight to behold.
And this one revelation explained so much. Ky and I were awake until dawn discussing it. When Joshua wore the crown, it turned his darkness light, keeping the Void dormant as Ky said. But when I took it on? The crown only served to suppress the light. It’s why I felt a sudden loss of warmth and peace at the coronation. The reason my connection to Ky grew stronger. The Verity was silenced for a time, allowing the Void in Ky to work its way in through our intertwined souls. When I finally removed the crown at the brownstone, it was too late. The damage had been done, my connection to Ky and the Void more solid than ever. It found its way into me, latching on through my growing love for the boy before me.
The knowledge brings joy and sorrow in a single wipe of my brow. Joy because it wasn’t some problem with my blemished soul that caused the Verity to grow weak. Sorrow because had I not been connected to Ky by a Kiss of Infinity, the Void never would’ve found its way in to begin with.
When King Aidan wore the crown, his soul was not linked to Jasyn’s, so the crown would not have hurt the Verity within. It may have dimmed it, and I’m guessing because of that Aidan would not have worn the crown often. But even with the light docile, darkness wouldn’t have found a door. It was my soul bond to Ky that made the difference. But how can I regret saving him from becoming Soulless? I don’t know who I’d be without him.
I look at Ky again. His scars shine in the sunlight, his rose and thorn Shield seal standing out among the wreckage of his skin. The image brings another to mind. Joshua bruised and bleeding. Joshua doing everything in his power to protect me from taking on the Void. As selfish and coldly methodical as his actions come off, everything he’s done has always been about one thing.
Saving the people.
Saving me.
Chewing my bottom lip, I mull this over as we make the trek to Dahlia Moon’s. Not because I’m changing my mind. Ky or Joshua? But because Joshua was my best friend—my only friend—for a long time. We have a history. Ky may be my present, my future, but Joshua? He’s my past and that doesn’t change overnight. It never changes.
Because no one can change the past.
Isaach relayed Dahlia lives at the canyon’s east end, only half a day’s walk from the Nitegra Compound. Breckan drew us a map on a flat red stone, pointing out the Reyaub Cliffs to the west and the Nabka Forest to the north, admonishing us to stay along the river’s shore. “As long as ye can find tha river, ye can find yer way east or west. It’s like a path, ye see?” She smiled then bogged us down with packs full of food, supplies, and water.
“The Fifth’s desert is wicked.” She bustled about her hut, riffling through baskets, arms loaded with whatever she could scrap. “Hard ta keep yer wits about ya when that noon sun hits. Rest beneath tha shade when ye find it, and sip at yer canteen every ten minutes er so. And don’t ferget what I said before. Stay near tha river if ya know what’s good fer ya. Good luck.”
With a wave the odd couple sent us on our way. Charley elected to stay behind, whittling our group down another notch. Six of us remain, and everyone’s been filled in on our mission. Ky didn’t see a reason to keep things hidden any longer.
“You all deserve to know what we face in the days ahead.” Mopping his face with his shirt, he made eye contact with each of us. “If anyone wants to stay back, he or she is welcome to do so.”
We listened and some exchanged glances. In the end, only Charley bowed out. I searched Flint’s eyes, looking for something I could trust—or suspect. He hasn’t said much since the Fourth, and Gunner does most of his talking for him. Still, the pilot tagged along, hands shoved in his pockets and back hunched. Now we march in silence, our tasks wheeling through my mind.
Find Dahlia Moon.
Inquire about the first vessel of the Verity.
Locate said vessel.
Destroy. The. Void.
I shared my theory with Ky during our all-nighter. We sat under cover of the Fifth’s stars, legs dangling over the edge of a cliff, sharing a canteen of sweet cactus juice and a handful of grapes.
“Is it possible?” I popped a green grape into my mouth, the juice oozing tartness onto my tongue.
Ky took a swig. Wiped his mouth with the back of his arm. “Makes sense. We’ll have to mention it to Dahlia. If the Void was created by lack of love, why wouldn’t true love be its weakness?”
Leaning back on my elbows, I nodded. The night was cool but not uncomfortable. Maybe the desert wasn’t so bad. We sat that way for some time. I didn’t want to fall asleep and give up the moment.
But daylight always reigns. And what did it bring but white-hot doubts beating down with the sun’s rays? What was I thinking? The desert is awful. Everything appears better at night. Now I’m rethinking the notion I know anything about destroying the Void. Maybe this is all pointless.
“The Fifth’s desert is wicked . . . Keep yer wits about ya.”
Breckan’s words are a bucket of ice down my back. Blink. Step. Straighten. Nearly there. We left before dawn and the sun is almost directly above now. I wipe the sweat seeping into my eyes, shade them. Where—?
“I see it! I see it!” Khloe jumps up and down, spunkier than she should be after half a day in the heat.
We pick up our pace, canteens rattling against our packs. My sweatshirt wrapped around my waist loosens and I cinch it snug. We follow the winding hill path, the way jutting into the rocks, then back out. When we near the top, the house comes into full view. In the shade of the canyon wall our destination grows clear. That’s when I stop. Take a step. Crane my neck. And then I’m holding my breath, covering my mouth with both hands. Because I’ve seen this house before. I know it. All at once I don’t care about my aching legs or my heat exhaustion or anything but shoving past the crew and bursting through the door.
This is Mom’s dream house, the one she drew in her sketchbook-slash-journal. The one she labeled “Someday.” The stone chimney. The hedge of rosebushes. The ivy framing the door. The foliage is dried out and the structure is a little dilapidated, but it’s here.
“Mom?” I call once I’m inside. “Mom? Are you here?”
“Eliyana?” Her voice is faint. Muffled. Far.
Biggest sigh of relief ever. “Mom. Where are you? Where’s Evan? I can’t see anything.”
Footsteps thud across the stone floor.
I whirl.
A baby cries. Another sigh. My brother is here. He’s okay. Have he and Mom been in Dahlia’s care this entire time?
I move deeper into the cottage, past the front window shedding a miniscule amount of light. I run into a stool. Ouch. Why is it so dark? My pulse reaches my ears. Something’s off and it’s not the lights alone. “Mom, this isn’t funny anymore.” Dumb thing to say. Because Mom doesn’t play jokes. Not like this.
As my vision adjusts, the faint outline of the furniture and floor plan becomes clear. But still no sign of my family. I search all two rooms. Nothing. When I return to the front, Ky and the others have piled into the entryway.
“Is she here? Is Dahlia Moon here?” Khloe rises on her toes, stretches her neck.
I shrug. Open my mouth to answer that no, no one seems to be home, but the desert sun has certainly induced hallucinations of some sort. Maybe the cottage doesn’t even look the way I saw it. Maybe I only imagined it was the one in Mom’s drawing. I’ve missed her. Much has crowded my mind these days, but I’ve never forgotten Mom and Evan.
Shuffle. Creak. The crew shifts, turns their heads. A figure steps out from behind the open front door. A man, tall and dark, with black veins running the lengths of his arms, across his bare torso, around his neck, over his face.
The crew backs away, giving him room. Everyone except Ky, who pushes Khloe behind him and draws his mirrorblade. “Em, if you were ever going to mirror walk, now’s the time to do it.”
His comment throws me off. Does he really think I’d abandon the team?
“Had to try,” Ky says in my head.
I’m not going anywhere, I reply.
The man moves toward me, stepping into the thin sliver of window light. I wouldn’t know him except for those eyes, cerulean blue and him as ever.
“Joshua?” His name sounds as if I’ve spoken it in another language.
He shakes his head. Bares his teeth. “It’s Josh now.” A roll of the neck. A crack of the knuckles.
I knit my brows. “Joshua.” Now my voice is shaking. “What’s happened to you?”
He doesn’t respond. Doesn’t try to hug me or talk to me. And I realize, even with his eyes, he’s not the same at all.
One more step toward me, then he does a full 180 and rounds on Ky. “Hello, brother,” Joshua—Josh?—snarls.
Brother? I can’t see Ebony, but a “What the bleep?” would be fitting right about now.
“Reunited at last,” Josh says.
Khloe steps out from behind her brother. Hands planted on her hips and stance wide, she says, “We’re not afraid of you.”
The Ever draws his sword.
“Joshua, don’t!” I sing.
A glare over his shoulder. “I told you.” He spits to one side. “It’s Josh now.”
Then he runs his blade straight through Khloe.
I’m on my knees, scrambling to my younger sister’s side. Drawing her into my arms. Patting her hair. Her eyes roll into her head.
Ky is frozen, blade held fast at his side.
Josh wipes his bloody sword on his pants.
I press my soaked face into Khloe’s curly mop. Whisper an inaudible, blubbering, “No.”
Ebony is with me now, wrapping her arms around my quaking frame, resting her forehead on my shoulder.
Like everything else, this is because of me. I look up at Josh now. He’s just staring at Ky. Waiting. Waiting for what?
Lyrics to Passenger’s “Let Her Go” burn through me . . .
“Everything you touch, surely dies . . .”
No. This is not my fault. If I doubted my choice before, I sure as crowe don’t now. I find my voice. “How could you do this?”
Josh doesn’t cast a glance in my direction. His regard is trained on Ky. Still he doesn’t budge.
With care, I transfer Khloe into Ebony’s arms. It takes every ounce of willpower I have to rise, but I manage. The Verity is hard to notice, but I sense it, flickering like a dying flame in the pit of my soul.
“Answer me!” My internal scream turns audible. The sound echoes through the small space.
Josh gives no indication he hears. Not a flinch. Not a twitch.
I pound my fists on his back, which feels rock hard against my touch. How did he get like this? How could he allow the Void to take him? I’m inclined to keep blaming myself. The Verity is meant to keep the Void at bay. But this isn’t on me. I won’t let it be. Joshua made his own choices.
And, like a true Shadowalker, he chose the Void.
A sob emerges as I take a step back and yank at my hair. At long last I catch a glimpse of the Ever tattoo above his right shoulder blade. It’s barely visible, but it’s there. Beneath the blackened brambles. It’s simple. Beautiful. Perfect.
Joshua’s seal . . . is a heart.
It should’ve turned black like the rest of him.
I clutch my own heart to keep it from falling out of my chest. The Void is everywhere. I shove away the image of Jasyn Crowe. This is Joshua. Joshua. He’s a good guy. Because beneath it all there must be a chance he can return. Our mission becomes more desperate than ever, Joshua added to the list of those we must save.
The rest of the crew makes no move to attack. They don’t breathe. Don’t blink. Because after what’s just happened, no one dares get near Josh—the Void.
Ky is the first to speak. A statue, his mouth scarcely stirring. “Wrong move, David.”
“We’ll see.” He slips his hand into his pants pocket and withdraws a small bottle. It’s lovely, made of what is unmistakably mirrorglass.
As he faces Josh—his brother?—Ky’s nostrils flare. A single tear escapes his green eye and slides down his cheek.
Josh lifts the mirrorglass bottle and collects the tear, swishing it around and holding it up to the light. Then he turns and offers the bottle to me. “Drink.” His tenor borders on robotic.
I recoil. “Excuse me?”
“Drink, El. Or so help me I will finish off every last one of them.”
In the past I wouldn’t have believed such a threat, not from Joshua. But now I bite my lip to keep it from quivering. I hold my ground so I don’t crumple. Mirrorglass reverses. What will this reverse?
Josh brandishes his sword once more. He won’t do to Ky what he did to Khloe. The beating in the Fourth was one thing. Joshua can take the few punches he gave Ky then, because whatever happens to Ky happens to Joshua. That alone was my first tip Joshua’s not all right. No matter his hatred for Ky, Joshua wouldn’t hurt him and risk hurting me. But killing is different. And without Ever blood to restore him, Ky’s death would end all three of us.
So Josh levels his weapon at Ebony.
Second thought not required. When I saved her from becoming Soulless it was selfless. Now the act is for myself as much as for her. Whatever she’s done in the past, she’s my sister. And not just by blood either.
I snatch the bottle from Josh’s hand, glaring as I tip it ceilingward. Ky’s tear slides from the glass onto my tongue. Flavors bounce and change, reminding me of the blueberry girl from Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory.
At first the tear is sweet. I taste our reunion on the Seven Seas. My confession in the catacombs. Our kiss on the Fourth’s shore.
The tear turns sour.
I’m transported to the night Ky kidnapped me. Knocked off my feet by his cruelty. By the way he so easily stabbed Makai.
The taste melts to bitterness.
Anger rises. Ky working for Haman. Ky taking me from the castle and leaving Mom behind.
“Em.” He reaches for me.
It makes no sense, no sense at all, but I withdraw from his touch. Emotions war. Love, anger, hatred. Which one is right?
Ky’s face pales, the life and light vanishing from his complexion. Black veins climb up his bare torso, up his neck and slack jaw. I’ve never seen him look this afraid. This helpless.
Josh alters too. The Void drains from him, gradually receding into nothing. Because the Void inhabits the one who cares most for the Verity’s vessel. Whatever drinking the tear has accomplished, Ky’s love now far surpasses Joshua’s.
I inspect my right arm, plain as the left now. The Void has vanished from me as well. Ky bears the full weight of it. And something inside me snaps. Even so I can’t bring myself to touch him, to hold him, to tell him everything will be okay. I’m glued in place.
I fight against my invisible restraints. “What have you done?” The question is for Josh. I expect to find him gone and the real Joshua returned, but even without the blackened veins, his stare remains stone cold. Heartless.
“A few more seconds should do it.” He folds his arms. Leans away. His gaze never leaves mine.
A few more . . . what? “What are you—?”
The flavor on my tongue vanishes at last. Bitterness turns to nothing. I’d never know I drank . . . What did I drink? I can’t . . . I can’t remember. My eyes close. Head hangs.
A tap on my shoulder.
I whip up my head. A man stands before me, darkness covering every inch of his skin. The only light he carries is in his eyes, one green and one brown. Who is he? He almost seems familiar, but why? I step away, take the most comfortable place in the room. The place that feels safe.
The place beside Joshua.