CHAPTER FIFTY
My feet slam into the ground an instant later, my knuckles white as they grip onto Dane’s forearms, steadying me after the onslaught of magic that dropped us here.
Blinking rapidly, I watch the glow of the dust fade on our clothes, and snap my head up to take in the surroundings. My knees almost buckle as everything catches up to me. We just wasted enough dust for two people, and we aren’t in Dawnlin anymore.
We aren’t in Blackwood, either.
My eyes flit around the alley, climbing the buildings, the packed dirt ground, the bright skies.
This isn’t the same alley we stood in the last time we were in the real world, the last time before I was in Dawnlin.
Dane didn’t bring me home.
I step away from him quickly, anger and panic overwhelming me. He wasted it. Not just to get here, but for us to get back, too. He ensured I would go back by bringing me somewhere else, so I wouldn’t change my mind and go back to the castle. Now, we have no choice but to use even more dust, and if there isn’t ananswer on the fountain, we’ve done nothing but draw closer to sealing our fate. All of this would be in vain.
“I can’t believe you did that, Dane! What were you thinking?” I yell, taking another step back and wringing my fingers through my hair.
“Checking the fountain is important, and we needed a fountain.” He gestures to the fountain beside us, and I follow his motion.
It is a duplicate of the one in Blackwood, and my face falls as I take it in. No water flows from the openings, the pool below the same stagnant mess as at home.
Is it because of the dust?
Has the magic of the island dried up, just like the fountain? Will the myth of Dawnlin cease to exist as soon as the dust is gone?
“Let’s just look for clues,” I grind out, and step to the edge of the fountain, turning my back on him.
“You’re mad,” he says flatly.
“What was your first clue, Dane?” I snap, my anger breaking through the box I’m trying to hold it in.
“There’s no reason to be mad,” he says, grabbing my arms and pulling me toward him. Wrenching my arms from his grasp, I shrug him off, but he steps between me and the aged white stone. I glare up at him, my jaw aching from clenching it so tightly, trying not to say the venomous thoughts running through my mind.
“It’s important we find an answer, and if this is the best idea we have, we need to try. If it doesn’t work out, we’re stuck either way. Someone had to decide, and the island is my responsibility, so I made it.”
I understand his point, but he believes his way is the only answer. He doesn’t know about how many Castaways I’m trying to save dust for, in the event we find nothing. He knows everysingle one of them, and he doesn’t care about what happens to them, even though he says he’s not trying to trap anyone. He vilifies them, making the Voyagers turn on people they knew and cared about, leaving them stranded and hunted while he continues to search.
Auralie. Stassia. Jorn. Eirlik. Veck. Fern. Everyone.
He knew them all.
And he isn’t considering them in any of this. He only is considering what he wants done, in the name of protecting Dawnlin.
But he’s not protecting Dawnlin, not after he cheated the magic and wants the cure for himself.
“So let’s find the answers,” I say and step around him, training my gaze on the fountain.
I scan the surface, the carvings dusted with a thick layer of grime from years without flowing water, making them somewhat difficult to see. Dane hovers behind me, looking at the fountain over my shoulder, and the skin on the back of my neck prickles.
Wasting the opportunity that using the dust gave us would be wrong. Despite how much I hate how Dane went about this, I’m going to use it. Dread pools in my stomach as I stare at the stone, thinking about how I am going to tell the Castaways there is even less dust now.
And why.
If there’s a clue here, I need to find it.
Crouching down, I reach into the pool and cup some stagnant water in my hand before dripping it over the surface of the fountain. I run my fingertips over the stone, rubbing the moisture on to try to wash away some of the filth.
Dane picks up on my plan and follows suit, starting in the other direction. It takes a minute of scrubbing before I can see enough of the carvings to analyze, and once I have enoughuncovered, I move on to the next section. We work silently, annoyance seething from me, until we meet again on the other side.
