169
Pippa groaned; this felt worse than when she had fallen off of Baffa into a patch of prickly weeds while he was running full force. Her head hurt, and her mouth felt like it was full of sand. And she was so tired.
She realized that she could feel sunshine on her back and opened her eyes. She was face down in dirt…how? Despite the weariness, she pushed herself up. She was outside! How had she gotten here?
Her heart pounded when she realized. She had transported! She had actually done it! She couldn't help but laugh despite the pain. She had wanted to transport for so long, but Uncle Hershel wouldn't teach her. He said she had to be older!
Pippa's smile disappeared when she remembered her Uncle. She had to get him back, if the adults wouldn't. Not even Archtiphos seemed like he was going to help. But she could do it! She knew she could…if she could get to that stupid Island, she could find her Uncle and tell him to come back home.
She pushed herself to her feet, looking around. She knew this spot; it was the same place that she met Archtiphos in her dreams. The patch near her house where she liked to play with Baffa. She took a deep breath as she tried to come up with a plan. She didn't know where the Island was, and her family wasn't going to tell her. They were going to take her to Ninjago, but she didn't want to go. So she needed someone else…someone who knew lots of stuff, who would tell her where the Island was.
The idea sprang into her mind and she blinked in surprise. Myrah would know…she probably knew lots of things. And her parents would never think to look for her there, and Imgloss wouldn't know she was there either. The fact that Pippa had no idea where the Western Fortress was didn't really sway her at all. She wouldn't have survived her six years of free-roaming the realm without being really good at asking for directions.
Tolan watched his daughter start to disappear and cursed. His fingers had brushed her fluffy hair for a moment, but then there was a flash and she was gone. It felt like a boulder had suddenly settled in his stomach, and he heard Syn gasp behind him in shock.
"Tol…" she managed, and he turned quickly.
"She can only go to places that she has a strong connection to," he reminded quickly, remembering what Hershel had taught him about transporting all those months ago. "She can't be in very many places, Syn."
"Right."
She sounded like she was trying to keep calm, but the tremor in her voice was giving her away.
Tolan grabbed her arms, trying to ground her. "It's going to be alright, Syn. You check Hershel's, it's closer. I'll head to our tent and see if she's there."
"She's wandered this entire realm," Syn murmured. "Tol…she could be anywhere."
"This was her first time; she'd head somewhere familiar," he reminded. "Somewhere that means a lot to her."
Syn grabbed his arm then, her grip so tight it was almost painful.
"What if she's transported to Hershel? To the Island…"
The thought filled Tolan with icy dread, but then he shook his head.
"No. It can't possibly work like that. She can't be far, Syn. Besides, she's grown up wandering this realm. She knows how to take care of herself out there. She'll be ok until we find her."
Syn was still chewing her lip, and Tolan gave her shoulders a squeeze.
"Hey."
She looked up, and is expression was both serious and comforting.
"The full moon isn't for a few more nights. We still have plenty of time to get to Ninjago."
Syn finally nodded.
"Alright. I'll check Hershel's."
The Island's voice unnerved him, but Hershel kept his own voice firm as his arms and eyes blazed with power.
"I don't belong to anyone."
The vines came shooting towards him from different directions, and Hershel sent powerful blasts to counter each one. They exploded in flashes of white light before fading from view.
Lunise sneered. The Island has unlimited power, Hershel. You do not. You will tire eventually.
He didn't let it get to him. If he was going down, he was going down fighting. Hershel blasted the last of the vines, and then there was a strange whistling in the air. Hershel tensed, waiting. The floor beneath his feet rumbled and groaned, and Hershel looked down to see that the ground was beginning to tilt. Moving quickly, Hershel tried to find an area that wasn't moving, but he couldn't find any flat ground. The floor's angle was getting steeper with each passing moment. Lunise floated above the floor as she always did, watching Hershel with a steely gaze while he slid towards some unknown fate.
There is no use fighting; you would do well to realize that We are not your enemies.
The beckoning stone. If Hershel could somehow find it, he could finally accomplish what he had set out to do on this Island in the first place. He closed his eyes, wondering what would happen if he tried to transport with this new power. The aura winds whipped around him, and he felt himself flash away.
His eyes flew open, but he didn't have time to celebrate the transport. With his stomach in his throat, Hershel realized he was free-falling next to some kind of sparkling underground waterfall. He cursed, his limbs pinwheeling as he tried to figure out what to do. Before he could form his thoughts enough for another transport, he crashed through the surface of an inky indigo lake.
The frigidness of the lake took his breath away, and he nearly inhaled the dark water from the shock. He immediately struggled toward the surface of the lake, but his heart gave a jolt of panic when his flailing hands struck ice. The lake had frozen over.
He pounded on the ice with a blazing fist, but the water around him was becoming impossibly colder, as if trying to imprison him in the ice like an insect in amber. His aura was not as good at melting the ice as it had been at destroying the vines. The frozen material continued to get thicker, and he knew he was going to run out of air. Hershel closed his eyes, the aura swirling around him desperately as he transported once again.
Hershel landed on the cold black floor with a sickly splat, coughing as the icy water streamed off his body and clothes. He was shivering hard now; between the cage and the lake, it was getting to the point where he was struggling to remember what warmth felt like.
Hershel…
He closed his eyes and summoned his aura, allowing it to run up his arms. It provided warmth, and he managed to push himself to his feet. He turned to glare at where Lunise had reappeared. He didn't give her the chance to speak again, flashing out in another attempt to find the beckoning stone. He tried to picture it in his mind, but that was impossible, given that he had never seen it. He reappeared and found himself in an identical place; starry floor, walls and ceilings shrouded in blackness. His eyes flashed in frustration. He wasn't getting anywhere.
I tried to warn you.
He turned to see Lunise floating nearby, viewing him sadly.
Running is futile. There is no escape from the Island…only surrender.
He narrowed his eyes, not sure what Lunise's next move would be.
"Surrender is not an option," he murmured angrily, and she flickered. Suddenly the scene around him changed; the blackness melted away until it seemed like he was outside. His heart pounded; it seemed that with his sight back, the Island finally felt the need to fill in a visual.
Do you recognize it?
He did. It took him a moment, but he soon realized where it was the Island had brought him.
"This is near the village I was born in," he admitted guardedly. Lunise smiled.
Yes.
He watched the scene unfold. A young girl toddled near him, coming from the village in the distance. She was scrawny, and small…her head a mass of unruly curls. She tripped and fell onto her hands and knees, and immediately started to cry.
Hershel's guard was still up, expecting an attack to come from the Island while he was distracted. But nothing happened; the scene just continued to play out. A boy came running from the village now.
"Syn!"
He reached the crying toddler, pulling her up off the ground and tutting as he brushed her off and comforted her. He was a scrawny kid himself, his hair dusty and untamed, his gaze darting around fearfully as if waiting for something to attack at any moment as he tried to comfort his sister. While Hershel didn't remember this exact memory, it seemed to ring true as something that had probably occurred. On the surface, there was nothing significant about it. However, as Hershel continued to watch, he realized that he could see something in the boy…the slightest glow around him that set him apart from the girl he was helping.
My aura, he realized suddenly. I can see my power, even under the aural block…
He felt a twisting in his chest as he realized; was the Island showing him what it could see, or did this new power inside of him allow him to see the power in others? Or the lack of power, he thought bitterly as he glanced at the crying toddler who showed no such glow herself.
The Island has been aware of you for a long time, Hershel.
As Lunise spoke, the scene faded from view and different memories flickered around him. Some were as seemingly insignificant as the one he had just witnessed, while others marked key moments in his life. Heavy Metal's mercy. Unlocking his powers. Learning with Phos. Oilen's dungeons. Syn and Tolan's binding. Teaching Pippa. Quiet moments with Myrah by the fireplace.
It is no accident you came here. It is no accident that you were led to look for better things. You have been abused and imprisoned all your life…it is the will of the Island for you to finally obtain refuge. To obtain a higher purpose…that is why we have brought you here.
Hershel forced himself to look away from the memories and back at the nearby form floating a few inches from the ground. Lunise's expression was warm and comforting once again.
Do not fight it any longer. This has always been your destiny.
He almost believed her. With the memories swirling around, and the Island pressing its counterfeit feelings of comfort and solace on his mind, Hershel almost bought into it. But then his eyes flashed as he backed away.
"No. The Island can see my memories; everything it knows about me it pulled out of my own mind. It has nothing to do with my destiny!"
Lunise's expression dimmed with displeasure as Hershel glanced back at the memories that surrounded him.
"Yes, the Island is powerful. But it can only see. It cannot reach those in the realm of the living…it cannot affect their lives. It has not led me here; I chose to come. My destiny is whatever I choose to do."
The Island howled then, the memories suddenly swirling around him at a sickening rate. Wind was kicking up, ripping at his hair and his clothes. It was trying to overpower him.
You still do not understand. We unbound your eyes…but you remain blind. Lunise flickered and disappeared, but then she was behind him. She wrapped her arms around him as if to do an Aural transfer once more. Let me show you what destiny truly feels like…
Hershel wrenched out of her grasp, pushing her away from him. For lack of anything else to do, he took off running. The memories followed for a moment, but even they faded as he ran off into the deepening blackness of the Island. He lit his hands with aura so he could see, but the air beyond his hands was a void. He realized there was nothing to see, because the Island had created no visual. Besides his own hands and arms bathed in pearly glow, he could see nothing at all.
Where are you running to?
He closed his eyes, trying to block out her voice. But then he slammed into something and bounced backward. His eyes flew open, but there was nothing there.
To those you left behind? There is no point trying to return to them, Hershel. They would not accept you. You have changed.
"Of course they would accept me," he replied angrily. His impact had left his head aching. He reached up to feel blood trickling from a cut on his forehead.
They didn't accept you when you changed the first time…when you were blinded. They treated you like you were useless. They tried to keep you locked away, hidden from the world.
"Syn was trying to protect me," he argued, managing to push himself to his feet once again. Lunise's laughter was all around him, but he still couldn't see her.
Protect you? That is like a daisy trying to protect a dragon. She underestimated you. They all have.
Hershel turned again, glaring at the darkness around him. "You will not change my mind, Lunise. I will never desire to become one with the Island, and if you will not release me now, I will spend every moment fighting you until you let me go back to them—"
But you are not the same, Hershel. Would those unworthy souls you care about even recognize you?
His heart pounded as continued to search for her. The air was crackling again, and he steeled himself for what was to come.
Do you even recognize yourself?
Walls of glass shot up around him—black mirrors, reflecting him on all sides. Hershel made eye contact with himself and gasped in shock, stumbling backward.
"What have you done to me?" he murmured in horror. His reflection gazed back at him, perfectly mirroring his look of panicked dismay.
The hair settled around his shoulders was pure white, apart from a last few dark-colored locks. His eyes and hands blazed with light. Even his skin seemed to softly glow. While his freckles used to be inky blots on his pale skin, now they were the color of fine dust, like the trace made when one tried to erase charcoal off of parchment.
His back pressed up against another glass wall as he backed away from the unfamiliar reflection. The cold surface behind him sucked him in. Hershel cried out, but the wall quickly devoured both arms and enough of his back to make it so he couldn't move. Then the wall refroze into an impenetrable block. Hershel willed the aura that had been surrounding his hands to do something. But where his arms used to be, there was just a horrible tingling sensation, like when one fell asleep on their arm and woke up to find they couldn't feel or move it at all.
You see now that you have been changed.
Lunise appeared in front of him then, her eyes pools of victorious pity.
You left the transformation too soon…but now we can rectify your mistake so your rebirth can be complete. Already you are more Guardian than Oni, Hershel. Open your eyes to what you have yet to become.
She moved so that he could see his reflection again. Hershel wanted to look away, but found that he couldn't. He couldn't move, couldn't blink. Instead, he was forced to watch as his reflection slowly changed. No longer was it reflecting reality; it showed him what the Island was so desperate for him to turn out to be.
Hershel watched in frozen despair as the last of the dark hair on his reflection faded to white. His skin continued to glow brighter, his eyes becoming blinding. His freckles disappeared, his form blazing until at last his physical body melted away. His reflection's expression became slack as it pulled free from the wall, an unlimited and infinite being of Ancient Power. Transparent and limitless, the new Guardian hovered above the ground, his hair and clothes suspended in the air. The reflection seemed to stare into Hershel's very soul with vivid eyes full of knowledge. The captive Healer was shaking with fear.
"Why does the Island want this?" he managed to whisper, his eyes still locked on the horrifying apparition in the glass. "Why do you want me?"
You are one of us already, promised to us long ago. You understand us as no one who has landed on our shores ever has. We know what it is like to be underestimated and abandoned. We seek your eternal companionship so that none of us will ever have to be alone. For we know you hate to be alone…
Hershel broke out into a cold sweat. He strained against the wall encasing his arms. Lunise tutted softly.
Do not fear your fate, dear one. You will understand in the end, and you will be grateful.
Suddenly warmth could be felt on the back of his head…on his chest. Hershel flinched away, but the wall binding him was as solid as ever.
"DON'T!"
Lunise moved her hand off his chest to touch his face. Goosebumps raised on Hershel's arms and neck as the warmth seeped into him.
Be at peace. The realm of the living holds nothing for you: A disbelieving sister who has only ever pitied you. An arrogant brother who dares to scoff at your wisdom. A mere child who will grow up to leave you, as everyone has…
"Lunise, let me go!" Hershel demanded, still trying to wrench from the wall. It merely sucked him in a few centimeters deeper, though Lunise maintained her grip on the back of his head. The aura Guardian was leaning in closer as she continued, her voice becoming a murmur.
A powerless Leader who never appreciated what she had
Hershel stiffened as warm lips pressed against his own, his eyes widening in shock. He couldn't breathe…couldn't move. In his helplessness to stop it, the kiss continued. His mind struggled to process what was happening, and warmth flooded back into his entire being. But then he was faintly aware of Lunise's hand fluttering back to his chest…the power flow into his soul starting once more as the Island invaded.
Hershel jerked away, a full-body aural blast exploding out from him. The glass walls surrounding him shattered, including the one keeping half his body prisoner. Lunise was thrown back. Hershel immediately backed away, his hands and arms finally free. The Guardian's expression was hard to read, but he realized that she was reaching out for him again. Hershel recoiled.
"Stay away!" he ordered, and in another moment, he flashed in transport, begging his new powers to take him somewhere safe. Somewhere far away from the Island tricks and traps and manipulation…
It was another hard landing, and he fell to his knees as he panted. He had more stamina with this new aura…but it seemed that Lunise was right. It wasn't unlimited, and he was starting to feel the effects of it now.
He saw something move and he immediately got back to his feet, swallowing hard as he ignited his hands once again. Time to see what attack the Island had come up with now to torture him into submission.
Hershel?
His stomach lurched as the figure made its way into the pool of light coming from his hands. The Island was cruel, he decided. Unbelievably cruel. Phos stood in front of him, looking at him with shock and dismay. But Hershel was far too familiar with the Island's lies. So before his counterfeit Master could say or do anything—whatever it was that was supposed to immobilize him—Hershel gave a fearsome yell and attacked.
170
The Western Fortress was farther than Pippa thought. The sun was setting by the time she could see it on the horizon, her feet hurting. It had been a long time since she had walked this far; she normally had Baffa to ride. She couldn't believe that Uncle Hershel used to walk all the way here multiple times a week! Though, it was probably easier for him cuz he knew where to go. She had gotten turned around once, but now she was finally there.
There were guards at the front of the fortress, just like there were in the fortress where Tolan worked. The difference was that the Central Fortress Guard knew her by name. These guys didn't look like they wanted her to come any closer.
"I need to see Myrah," she told them, standing straight and tall. They just stared at her and she cleared her throat. "She's the leader," she explained, in case the guards didn't know.
"Beat it, kid."
"I need to see her now!" she demanded, and one of the guards growled at her as she stamped her foot. "It's real important…my Uncle Hershel's in trouble!"
They weren't moving, and she began to panic. She thought about using her powers on them, but she caught sight of their big swords and hesitated. She hadn't brought her sword with her, and she wasn't sure how good she would be at fighting with her powers.
"Could you tell her I'm here?" she finally begged. "Tell her it's about my Uncle Hershel…"
"The Leader doesn't have time to deal with you right now," one of the guards finally said, as if he hoped that by explaining she would leave. "She's been summoned to the Central Fortress for a meeting."
Pippa's heart immediately sank.
"You mean she's there now?!"
"She'll be leaving soon," the other guard growled. "Now I mean it…get lost!"
Pippa wanted to give them both a blast to the face, but then she realized what he had said. Myrah hadn't left yet…and if she was gonna go to the Central Fortress, then she was gonna need a ride. Pippa finally just scowled at both of them and ran off. But rather than turn to head back the way she came, she set off to find the stables. It took a little while, and she had to be really sneaky a few times so that the guards wouldn't see her. She didn't feel like talking to any more mean people. Eventually she managed to follow the sound and smell of hoofers—she was familiar with both—to the stables. There were some servants there, and they turned and glared at her as she approached.
"Who are you?" One boy snapped, and she pulled herself up.
"I'm…I'm 'sposed to help Myrah get her hoofer ready."
He just sneered.
"Yeah right, kid. Get back to the scullery where you belong. They don't assign babies like you to the stables."
Pippa's eyes flashed angrily. Nobody called her a baby!
"I haveta talk to the leader! Get out of my way!"
Her hands and eyes blazed with power, and the teens immediately blanched.
"What the…"
"MOVE!"
She held her hands up threateningly, and the boys ran off. She would have laughed at them if she wasn't so angry. And they called her a baby.
There were a few hoofers in the stable, but no Myrah. The six-year old bit her lip as she looked between the animals. Which one was the leader's? She went up to each one, patting it, letting them nuzzle her, scratching them where she knew hoofers liked to be scratched. Fear was setting in again; what if Myrah really had already left?
"In here…she's in here!"
Pippa whirled around at the boy's voice. Rats. Those stupid guys had snitched on her. She immediately shrunk into one of the stable stalls, squeezing in with the hoofer. It made a disgruntled sound, but she shushed it and scratched it on the neck once again until it stopped lowing. People were coming into the stable now—those dumb boys and a guard.
"Careful, she's got powers!"
"If you urchins are lying to me…" the guard growled. He was an older guy, and Pippa shrunk further into the shadows as the guard began searching the stalls. She was inching backward when a horrible clanging rang out. She whirled to realized she had bumped a dung-rake, which had fallen over onto the metal trough at the back of the stall. Her heart pounded as the guard suddenly appeared at the front of the stall.
"Hey! Get out of there!" he said, and her heart pounded as the guy unsheathed his sword. The hoofer lowed angrily; Hoofers hate it when you pull out bright, stabbing stuff. With limited options, Pippa lit her hands with aura and launched at the guard in a rage.
He stumbled back in surprise, and Pip wondered if he hadn't really believed that she had powers. He recovered enough to swing at her, but she dodged easily. Sloppy, she thought. And he called himself a guard.
She lit his pants on fire without too much effort, and the servants ran off again yelling about crazy witches. The guard was panicking, and he swung at her with more and more vigor. She dodged the frenzied sword swipes and jumped back away as he finally patted his clothes down to extinguish the flames.
"You're dead, kid!" he yelled, and she took that as a sign that it was time to leave. She could take him…but any more blasts and she might light the stable on fire. That just wasn't fair to the hoofers.
Pippa turned and bolted for the door. She heard a crash behind her and turned to see the guard stumbling over something or other in his attempt to catch her. But because she wasn't facing forward, she ran smack into the person who had just entered the stable.
"What is going on in here?"
Pippa tumbled onto the hay-strewn ground as she heard the cold voice. She looked up and recognized the figure right as the guard seemed to as well.
"Leader Myrah!"
He sounded dismayed. Pip's shock at the leader's appearance was short lived as the guard was suddenly yanking her to her feet by one arm. She howled and twisted, but his grip was firm.
"I got word that this…thing had snuck in here."
"Let go, or I'll burn you!" Pippa hollered, and Myrah studied the child closely.
"Wait."
Pippa turned to face the leader as Myrah continued, her voice suddenly distant.
"You're his niece."
Pip felt the guard's hand on her arm tighten its grip.
"I'll get rid of her," he promised. "I'm sorry for delaying you."
"NO!" Pippa was thrashing again, her eyes blazing. "I haveta save my Uncle Hershel!"
"Let her go!" Myrah's voice cut in, suddenly back to its strong and authoritative tone. The guard looked up in surprise. He didn't release his grip as he cleared his throat.
"She's dangerous," he cautioned. "Powered. Already tried to torch me to death—"
"I did not!" Pippa argued, glaring at him before turning to explain her side to the leader. "I was only trying to find you, and then he went and swung his sword at me. That's the only reason I lit his pants on fire."
"I'll be fine," Myrah cut in, addressing the guard. "You can let her go."
The guard still didn't immediately release her, and Pippa turned to scowl at him.
"She said let go, Stupid."
"Little freak…" he started back, but then Myrah was stepping forward.
"Now."
The guard finally released her, and Pippa rubbed her arm ruefully as she looked up at Myrah.
"Do you know where the Isle of the Ancients is?" she demanded, getting straight to the point. Myrah looked surprised. Rather than question her further, the leader gestured to the doorway with her head.
"Let's check the library."
Pippa sagged with relief and scampered after her as Myrah began heading back to the fortress. The child heard trudging behind her and realized that the guard was following them…probably because he still thought she would attack the leader. She turned to glare at him, but a question from the leader brought her back to the task at hand.
"Why were you looking for me?"
She turned back to see Myrah looking at her as they walked, and Pippa shrugged.
"Cuz nobody else would tell me where the Island is…and I have to go there to get my Uncle Hershel."
Myrah looked surprised. "Hershel's on an Island? How do you know?"
"Cuz that's what the mean Healer said, 'cept Mom and Dad won't go there to get him back. Nobody will go there to get him back…not even Archtiphos."
"Archtivus?" Myrah stopped walking, looking completely confused now. In fact, she was starting to look skeptical. "Archtivus is dead. I don't think…."
"I know he's dead!" Pippa snapped. She hated when adults told her stuff she already knew. "That's why I talk to him. Cuz he would know if Uncle Hershel is dead, and he says he's not, but then I told him about the Island and he didn't tell me where it was…so I came to you cuz everyone just wants me to go to Ninjago so the mean Healer can't get me, but if we go then no one will ever find Uncle Hershel and…and he'll just be alone forever and he hates being alone!"
Tears were welling in her eyes. By the end of her tirade, she was starting to cry. Myrah's look of skepticism changed to discomfort, and she hesitated.
"I see," she said, even though it sounded like she didn't actually see at all. "But why did you come to me?"
Pippa hiccuped and then angrily wiped her face. "Cuz you're the only person who I know that would know about the Island."
"Why would you think that?"
Pippa shrugged again. "Cuz Uncle Hershel wouldn't be in love with you if you weren't smart."
Myrah's eyebrows shot up, and Pippa kicked the dirt.
"He still loves you," she admitted grudgingly. "Even though I told him not to."
The Western Leader didn't say anything, and Pippa started pushing her towards the fortress.
"We have to hurry! We have to find Uncle Hershel before the full moon!"
"What?"
"Cuz if he doesn't come back, then the mean Healer said I have to be his apprentice!"
Myrah didn't seem to be processing, and Pippa's eyes flashed.
"Please!"
"Alright," Myrah said, frowning as she started walking towards the fortress again. The guard had been hovering close, as if to grab her again, but at Myrah's word he backed off. Pippa sighed in relief and followed Myrah once again. They had reached the entrance now, and the six-year-old looked around at the hallways as they walked.
"Why were you in the stables?" Myrah asked.
"To find you."
"How did you know I would be in the stables?"
"Cuz you have a meeting at the central fortress and so you'd have to get your hoofer…"
"How did you…"
"Cuz your guards told me!" Pippa snapped, becoming irritated.
"Who brought you here?" Myrah said, clearly in the mood to ask lots of stupid questions.
"I just walked here!" Pippa explained exasperatedly. "Where's the library?"
Myrah gave her a hard look.
"You just walked here? From across the realm? How old are you?"
Pippa rolled her eyes.
"Six and a half…almost seven."
"You came all the way here by yourself…and you're only six?"
"And a half," Pippa corrected. "Are we almost there?"
Myrah turned another corner, frowning.
"Does anyone know you're here?"
Pippa narrowed her eyes.
"Don't you dare snitch on me!"
The leader turned in surprise as Pippa glared at her.
"They'll take me to Ninjago if they find me, so that the mean Healer can't get me. But he can't get me if Uncle Hershel comes back."
"What are you talking about? What Healer?"
"The old, grouchy one. He's an Ancient, so nobody can stop him once he becomes the Master Healer."
Myrah gave a start. "The Master Healer? But…Hershel's the Master Healer…"
Pippa scowled. "I know. But he said if he doesn't come back by the full moon, he's gonna be the Master Healer. He…he said that Uncle Hershel…" She trailed off, her expression twisting. "I'm gonna find him. He has to come home. He has to."
Myrah still didn't look like she really understood anything that was going on. Pippa still didn't really even like the Western Leader. But she felt a little less bitter when Myrah finally nodded.
"Alright," she said. "Then we better find out where that Island is."
171
The apparition dodged out of the way, his dismay turning to shock.
Hershel! What are you doing?
"Leave me alone!"
Hershel's arms blazed as he tried to blast the Island's latest lie, to dissolve it back to the aura it had been formed from. He hated how well it had been able to form Phos…he looked identical to the real thing, apart from him looking ghostly. His voice had a strange echo to it as well; perhaps the Island wasn't allowed to impersonate Ancients perfectly.
Phos seemed to be trying to talk with him. Hershel's heart was pounding in his ears, and it made it hard to hear. He launched attack after attack, but where they managed to hit, the blasts just went through the ghostly form. The Ancient flashed away and appeared in a spot behind Hershel.
What's happened to you?
Tears sprung into Hershel's eyes at the horror in his Master's voice. How dare the Island try to prove its point in this way. Hershel turned to see the ghost was reaching out, and the younger Oni launched himself at the impostor. He tackled Phos to the ground and screamed into the Ancient's bewildered face.
"You're not real!"
Aura was lighting in his hands as they gripped his Master's cool, slippery shoulders, and he began to fill the ghost with the First Ancient's power to try and dissolve it. Phos's expression flickered with a dozen different emotions and Hershel grimaced as the Ancient grabbed either side of his face. His hands were slick and cold…
Cold. This apparition was so cold, even though Lunise had been so warm. For some reason, the detail caused Hershel to pause. In his hesitation, he realized that he could sense something wafting from his master's ghostly form: Horror…guilt…grief. The ghost had emotions.
Hershel's eyes and hands still blazed as he panted. But as he continued to feel genuine emotions roll off of his Master, he began to shake.
"It can't be you," he finally said, his emotions choking off his voice. "I know it can't….just another Island lie."
It IS me. Hershel, I came here to find you.
The tears were running down Hershel's face now, because he wanted so badly to believe it. His voice was filled with bitterness as he yelled again.
"How dare you…how dare you take his form! To trap me like this!"
And suddenly Phos disappeared from where Hershel was pinning him. A moment later he reappeared, kneeling on the ground to face the shaking Healer.
It's not the Island
Phos's voice was stern…he sounded just like he did all those years ago, when he was trying to get something into Hershel's head. The younger Oni just shook his head.
"It has to be…"
I'm really here, Hershel. I've been trying to reach you ever since Pippa said you might be here.
The tears continued to fall, but exhaustion was setting in. The aura faded from Hershel's hands as the fight began to leave him…despair kicking in.
"It doesn't matter who you pretend to be," he finally whispered, his tone bitter. "I won't become what you want. You've gained nothing from this…"
It's ME, boy!
Phos reached out and grabbed his face again, and Hershel balked. But he was suddenly so tired…his new power having taken its toll. He gazed into Phos's face…into the wrinkles of centuries and his piercing gaze.
It's me, Hershel. Take a moment…you'll know it is.
He was desperate to keep his guard up…but he could feel Phos's emotions. He stared at the ghostly form of his old Master, and suddenly he was aware of a glow about him. He wouldn't have known how to interpret it, but the power inside of him recognized it as the scent of an Ancient…
"Phos."
The word slipped out, sounding numb and distant. But in the next moment, he was collapsing into his old Master. Hershel buried his face into Phos's shoulder as he began to sob. He had never broken down this way in front of the Ancient Master in life, but Hershel was too far gone to be proud now. He could feel Archtivus clinging to him as well.
Oh, my boy.
"I failed you…"
The words barely made it out through his sobs, his eyes tightly closed as shame washed over him.
"Phos…I've failed…everyone. I don't even know…who I am anymore…what I am anymore…"
The Ancient didn't seem to know what to say, so he just held Hershel as he continued to weep. Hershel wasn't sure how much time had passed before he was finally pulling away, feeling effectively drained of everything. Phos searched his face, his expression betraying more than a little concern.
The Power of the First Ancients. Hershel…you're full of it…
Hershel felt a wave of shame and looked away.
How?
"It wants me to be a Guardian," he admitted softly, and Phos shook his head.
I don't….
"The Island tried to turn me into a Guardian!" Hershel repeated miserably. "I came here to elicit help from the First Ancients. I wanted my sight back. I wanted permission to dissolve the Healers. But then the Island unbound my power and sight…and offered me True Freedom."
He winced as he felt the horror washing off of his Master, drowning in shame.
"I was weak, Phos. I was so weak."
You aren't weak, Hershel.
Phos's hands were on his face again and Hershel looked up to see his old Master fixing him with a hard look.
If you were weak, you would have already been consumed by the Island. What I cannot fathom is why it would do this to you.
Of course you don't understand.
Dread shot through Hershel as he and Phos turned. Lunise had appeared a few yards away, viewing them both with a look of terrifying hatred. He felt Phos's anger.
Lunise…
You don't see him the way we see him. The way he deserves to be seen. Hershel thinks he has failed you…but it is you who failed him.
"Phos," Hershel murmured, aura starting to lick at his hands again despite his exhaustion. He could feel guilt coming from his old Master, and that worried him.
You abandoned him to be chained to a destiny that you knew would never bring him happiness. Had he followed the path you laid for him, he would have spent his life hated, underestimated, and alone. You failed him, so he was forced to seek us out. We know of his true potential. We have freed him. He deserves the true greatness that we will impart…
This has gotten so far out of hand.
Phos's tone was cold and annoyed, as if he was dealing with some overgrown weed in his herb garden rather than an ageless entity that had been corrupted over centuries of time. His expression was a familiar mix of boredom and irritation, but Hershel could feel his true feelings of shame underneath.
The Island was created to serve the Ancients…and it seems we have let it corrupt itself with ambition and knowledge. You will not touch my apprentice again, because I now release him home.
Hershel's heart flared with a sudden hope, and Phos turned to give him one last parting look. Except that nothing happened. Hershel watched as unease flickered across his Master's face. Loud laughter began echoing all around them.
You cannot release what already belongs to the Island.
Hershel inhaled fearfully. Phos must have sensed his dread, because he reached out to grab his apprentice's shoulder. Lunise began approaching, and Phos scowled.
You were chosen by the First Ancients, Lunise. As an Ancient you will obey me now! Release this man.
But Lunise didn't even seem to hear Phos, her eyes boring into Hershel.
You will come with me now
Hershel's expression hardened.
"I made my choice already; I won't join you, Lunise. I will not join the Island."
The very air itself crackled with power, and Lunise blazed like a strike of lightening.
You dare to deny us? We gave you your sight, Hershel; we can take it away. We have all power, all knowledge. The Island has no wish to harm you, but if that is the only way for you to accept your destiny…then so be it.
A bolt of power shot at him, and Hershel barely managed to deflect it with a blast of his own.
"Phos!" he gasped. His master moved in front of him to block the Island's attacks.
This is my fault
Hershel blinked in surprise at the regret in his Master's voice. The younger Oni looked away in shame.
"No, I did this. This is because of my mistakes…"
Lunise was powering up for another attack, and Hershel summoned what power he could still muster.
"Phos….the beckoning stone. Can you get me to the beckoning stone?"
The Ancient grimaced as he deflected more attacks.
The First Ancients are too long dead, Hershel. They will not respond.
He had guessed at Hershel's plan, then, but Hershel's hands just clenched in fists. He blasted back another strike of lightening.
"We don't have any other choice. The Island won't listen to you; but it will have to listen to them. Please, Phos…"
The Ancient's expression twisted, but then he gave a single nod. They disappeared in a cloud of dust moments before a blinding attack would have hit home.
The soft snore caused Myrah to come around the bookshelf she had been searching in. Sure enough, the small child had fallen asleep, half-buried in scrolls and parchments on the table. The Leader couldn't help but smile a little as she sat down next to her.
Pippa seemed her age when she was sleeping—young and vulnerable. In the stables, she had acted half-wild, but she seemed adamant that finding this mysterious Island would help her Uncle. Myrah felt a pang when she thought about Hershel. Where had he gone? He had been missing for several weeks now, and it seemed that the child was making up fantasies rather than facing the truth.
It made her feel so empty inside. Pippa seemed sure that he had been sucked away to some mysterious Island, but the Western Leader had her own horrible theory. The Healer who Bula had gone to in the first place, the one who had blinded Hershel, must have found out that she had visited him again that night. She had been so careful, and nothing had even happened between the two of them. They had only talked! But she couldn't shake the feeling that Hershel had been taken because of what she had done. She had wanted to confront this Ancient Healer she had heard so much about, but what if he hadn't known about it? By confessing to seeing Hershel again, she could just make it so they had more reason to punish Hershel if the true Master Healer ever did make it back.
Forget him! He's only holding you back!
Bula's voice rang in her mind, and Myrah knew that in a way her advisor was right. She couldn't eat, couldn't sleep. She threw herself into the school and other projects, but she was distracted. Now she was missing the Central Fortress meeting; something that Cole and Keyda said was important. She felt a twinge of regret for not going; she should have had someone take Pippa back home and gone. Or perhaps she could have taken the child back to the fortress herself when she went to the meeting; no doubt someone there would know where she belonged.
But when she had seen the desperation in the child's gaze, Myrah realized that she wanted to help her. Not that she believed that they would find any answers about a fictitious Island, but she knew all too well what it felt like when you were backed into a corner and no one would believe in you. And there was a familiar glimmer in Pippa's expression when she had pleaded for help in the stable. She wasn't Hershel's daughter, but there was a family resemblance. In that moment, Myrah had seen him.
The Leader rubbed her face wearily, trying to figure out how she was going to explain her absence to the leaders and her own advisors. Somehow, she didn't think it would be enough to merely claim that 'something came up.' If she wanted to be a better leader, she would need to push past all of this. Healers and powers and…and Hershel. Move on, like Bula kept insisting she do. But as much as she tried to do so in her mind, her emotions continued to betray her. So she drifted through her days, distant and useless as the guilt slowly ate away at her.
She looked back over at Pippa, who was still making tiny noises in her sleep. What was she going to do with the child? Bula could probably get a room ready somewhere, but then she would need to send a messenger to her parents. Otherwise, Hershel's sister would only have another reason to come scream at her.
Myrah needed to do something, but she found she couldn't muster the energy to do anything but watch Pippa's back rise and fall with each sleep-ridden breath. She glanced down at what the child had been searching through and felt a twist of irony. She risked gently removing the manuscript from beneath Pippa's arms. The child murmured something about Archtivus, but then continued to snooze. The Western Leader exhaled in relief and looked down at the volume she had extracted.
Hrshyls Volume of Poetry
She shook her head; of course it would be this one that Pippa had been scouring for the last hour. Myrah thumbed it open, her eyes flicking across the pages. It wasn't a large volume by any means, but it was incredibly old. She couldn't help but worry that the child might have damaged it in her search for anything mentioning…
Myrah froze, her tracking eyes freezing on a stanza on one of the pages. She blinked, staring in disbelief at the words stuck in the middle of the poem.
Isle of Ancient Ones
Pippa had told her over and over that Hershel was on the Isle of the Ancients—a place that Myrah had never heard of and naturally assumed the child had made up. But here was nearly the exact phrase. For some reason, a chill ran up Myrah's spine. Perhaps Pippa really had overheard someone mention this place. But…did that mean that Hershel really was there?
Myrah and Pippa had already scoured the many different maps they had without finding any mention of any Islands in the ocean, let alone one with such a title. Even the poem held next to no information. In fact, the leader would have just assumed that this 'Island' was a metaphor for something else had the child not seared the name into her mind in her attempts to find information on it. With a deep breath, Myrah scanned the poem again. A love poem, she realized…perhaps that's why she had never found this volume worth studying before.
Stolen Heart in Chains of Expectation
Taken from the Dust of Home
To the Mists of the Western Sea
Whispers of Secrets
Promises of Honor
But what can be gained in
The Isle of Ancient Ones
That was not offered
When I proposed
All of Me
"Mists of the Western Sea…" she murmured, shaking her head in frustration. She had already assumed that such an Island would have to be off the Western Coast. In reality, this poem told her nothing at all—no doubt the Isle was merely a metaphor for the writer's own lonely heart. It frustrated her more now to find a clue just for it to be useless, and she immediately set to work scouring the rest of the volume for any more mention. But it seemed that Hrshyl the poet didn't seem as interested in this 'Isle of the Ancients' as he was the woman he was apparently in love with. Page after page on every feature imaginable—flowing hair, flawless skin, eyes glowing with an inner power and beauty. Myrah finally closed the volume in disgust; she didn't have time to analyze every stanza of some centuries-old pining poet.
"I thought I'd find you here. Myrah…what are you doing?"
She turned to see Bula at the door, looking tired and annoyed. Myrah gave her a disapproving look, gesturing to the sleeping child. Bula sighed exasperatedly. She did lower her voice, but she sounded as irritated as ever.
"Right now is not the time to be teaching some urchin to read, Myrah. You had a meeting with the rulers!" she hissed.
"This has to do with that," Myrah tried defensively.
"You're researching about the threat to the realm? Do you even know what the threat is? Last I remember, the Rulers didn't specify in their summons."
"I will go first thing in the morning and have them catch me up," Myrah explained exasperatedly. "I have to return the child, at any rate."
Bula blinked.
"This child? To where?"
"To the Central Fortress."
"What on earth is she doing here?"
Myrah hesitated, not sure what to say.
"She's friends with the Ruling Family, and she came seeking my help to research the Isle of the Ancients. I didn't feel I could deny her," she finally admitted. Bula snorted.
"The what?"
"I didn't recognize it either. But I found mention of it once in this."
She gestured to the closed manuscript in front of her and Bula squinted to read the title. The advisor blanched, but then her expression twisted with repulsion.
"Romantic Blatherings," she concluded with obvious distaste. "Ravings of a lesser soul, really….and a child's overactive imagination."
"She came from the central fortress seeking my help, and I cannot return her to the Rulers without at least trying to find some answers."
Bula rolled her eyes, but it seemed she was getting used to doing things she found ridiculous.
"I suppose you'll want a bed made up for the little thing, then?" she asked dryly, and Myrah smiled.
"Yes—"
"That won't be necessary."
Both women turned to see that a short man had somehow materialized at the doorway of the library. Myrah immediately stood, not liking the man's tone or expression. He stood confidently, though he was at least a head or two shorter than the leader. His hands were behind his back as he studied her, and Myrah could make out an earring in one ear. The stranger ignored their bewildered looks and smiled blithely.
"You see, I've come to collect her."
22
