Tor followed.
He stumbled—and fell into a different world, like plunging through a portal. Before him, he saw a girl far in the distance. She climbed out of a boat that had washed upon an island devoid of color, as if a storm had swept through and taken all of its best parts for itself.
This was Emblem Island, thousands of years before.
And the girl was Estrelle, founder of his village.
“The charms she used to bring the island back to its former glory, the ones she used to create the first emblems…” The Night Witch was floating next to him, right on the sea, watching the young girl stumble across gray sand. “Did you ever wonder where they came from?”
Tor remembered the story. “Her grandmother,” he said.
“Yes, but who was her grandmother? What was the place Estrelle came from?”
Tor had never questioned it. Before a month ago, he had never even believed the stories, let alone examined them.
The Night Witch turned to face him. “After destroying this island, darkness found Estrelle’s home. She was the only one to escape, and she took her people’s most powerful talisman with her.”
The necklace. The one that held the charms that would become emblems.
She nodded, hearing his thoughts, and continued.
“Estrelle’s grandmother and the rest of her descendants sacrificed themselves, used all of their abilities to trap the darkness in their lands in their attempt to vanquish it. And for more than a thousand years, it was dormant. As Emblem Island’s power grew under Estrelle’s influence, the darkness back at her home faded, until it was almost gone.”
The Night Witch nodded toward the island, which had transformed. A new girl stood at the coast, watching them. She had white, peculiar hair.
“Then, I was born with the first deadly emblem. The power to kill with a single touch, balanced by the power to bring anyone back to life. I could have been the key to killing the darkness across the seas for good—but instead, after the murder of my father, the darkness in me bloomed. Darkness feeds on darkness, Tor. Unknowingly, the more sinister and powerful I became, the stronger I made him, until he was resurrected.”
Him. Tor had so many questions. Was the darkness a person? A thing? Where had it come from? What had Emblem Island been before it had been destroyed, before Estrelle had landed on its shores?
She turned to him. “It’s up to you now Tor, to stop the same stories from being told once more.”
“But I’m dying,” Tor said. “I can’t help anymore. I can’t save the island.” He took a shaking breath. “You picked the wrong person,” he said. “I’m not enough. I wasn’t even able to face being the leader of my village, let alone protect all of Emblem Island. I’m not enough.”
She frowned at him and pointed at something in the distance. “You have something I never did,” she whispered. “You have help.”
With a whoosh, she was gone. Tor continued to stare at what she had pointed out, something in the night, sitting on the distant seas. Tor walked toward it, water slippery as ice beneath his feet. As he came closer, he realized the object in the distance was a ship.
Cloudcaster. Anchored in the middle of nowhere. He heard voices, rushed and loud—muted and echoing. Chaos. Soon, he saw Melda, Engle, and Vesper on the deck. All running as if the ship was sinking.
“Hurry, he’s almost gone!” Melda screamed. She was facing Vesper. Were they working together?
Had Melda forgiven Vesper for taking the skull and endangering their lives?
Before Tor could put together what she was doing, Vesper jumped into the water right in front of him. Not seeing him at all.
Tor thought heavy thoughts and plunged beneath the sea, following her down, feet pointed toward the abyss.
A mangled shipwreck rested on the seafloor far below. Vesper darted inside with impressive speed, eyebrows furrowed. “Come on, come on, come on,” he heard her say to herself, over the clatter of things she moved and pushed away deep in the belly of the ship. It was grand, bigger than Cloudcaster, with a large bird on its helm, wings spread wide.
Tor wanted to get closer, to see what she was doing. What she was looking for. But before he could, Vesper bolted out of the skeleton of the vessel. He followed her, back up to the surface.
“I have it,” Vesper shouted to the deck, her head bobbing out of the water. Tor stood on the ocean once more, watching Vesper climb up to the second step of the ladder, then crouch, one hand still gripping the railing.
The other held a golden comb. She reached down and lightly brushed it against the surface of the sea.
Silence.
Nothing stirred. The waves continued to lap against the anchored ship, lazy and undisturbed.
“Try again,” Engle said desperately. “You have to, this has to work. Please.”
Vesper reached down once more, expression wary. But before she could comb the sea another time, a pale hand broke through the pitch-black water and gripped her wrist.
Vesper gasped in shock, and the comb fell, disappearing beneath the water.
A head broke through the waves. She had hair golden as sunlight spun into silk, the comb now dug into the crown of her head. The siren’s eyes were the pink of dusk, and much larger than even Melda’s, framed by lashes so long they touched her cheeks.
Vesper blinked, as if struck by her beauty. “We—we—”
“You’ve found it,” the siren said, her voice buttered velvet. The mermaid’s tail briefly stuck out of the water behind her in a happy swoop. It was covered in bright, glittering scales, her fins a gauzy, feathery salmon pink. “Make a wish—and make it count.”
Melda spoke from the deck, her words guttural and desperate. “Save our friend, Tor. Cure him of any sickness or injury,” she said. “Please.”
No. He wouldn’t let them waste their wish on him. Not when they could find the pearl. He wasn’t worth it. He
