“How is it dark already? Were we gone that long?” I ask.
“Time passes differently here, remember? We don’t really know how fast it moves compared to home.”
An entire day, wasted. I can feel the pressure settling on my shoulders, knowing that I only have one more day to figure this out before my time is up, and I have no choice but to take the dust and leave. But now, because we went back to the real world, we didn’t get the chance to look anywhere else here, or follow any leads. There isn’t enough time left.
Dane keeps his hand on the small of my back as we traipse down the path, his head swiveling back and forth, constantly monitoring our surroundings and assessing for danger. It’s like he’s expecting someone to jump out of the trees and snatch me from his grasp. Now knowing that Weston followed me around the island, and after begging Sig to keep him back on the ship so I could finish this task, I know Dane’s worries aren’t really that unreasonable. I don’t know if any of the Castaways are out on shift tonight, and I can’t risk someone seeing me, especially if Sig couldn’t convince Weston.
We need to get back into the safety of camp.
The moment we step through the portal, the gravity of the day settles on me like a crushing weight. We found nothing. My time to find answers is running out, and all we accomplished was stealing a future from more people.
I want to curl up into a ball and cry. I want to wallow in the failure I feel, but I can’t. I may have lost precious time, but the stakes are too high to give up, and I can’t do anything that would make it seem like I’m in a hurry. I have to act normally, like we have all the time in the world, because Dane thinks we do.
As long as no one calls the Guardian.
The clearing is lively, filled with Voyagers winding down for the evening. Crackling of burning logs echoes through the air, alongside voices and laughter. It’s just like before I left. Nothing has changed, except Taril isn’t here.
The Voyagers before me have no reason to behave any differently. They don’t know what Dane knows, what I know. None of them have any clue their lives are about to be halted in a never-ending cycle.
I spot Roley over at the archery lanes and turn to Dane. “I’m going to go shoot with Roley for a bit. I promised him I would now that I am back.”
“Sure,” Dane says with a small smile. “I’m going to go check in with Storm and make sure nothing happened today I need to know about. Meet you after?”
He brushes a kiss on my cheek, and I give him a curt smile. After my anger and evasion earlier, I’m glad he didn’t push and is letting me have space. He sets off toward the ladder, and I toward the lanes.
Roley is alone. His normal practice partner is off on the ship, probably being told a bedtime story by Weston at this very moment.
My chest aches thinking about it.
I clear my throat as I approach. “Hey Roley.” My voice comes out high, filled with emotion. “Hitting that bullseye?” I stop next to him and peer down at the target. Arrows are scattered all over, some sticking out of the ground in the middle of the lane.
“Hi Lennox,” Roley says, the usually energetic and chipper child is now sullen and quiet, just like Taril said.
“What’s wrong?” I ask, kneeling down in front of him. “Did something happen?”
He shakes his head, but doesn’t make eye contact with me.
“You can tell me Roley.”
Keeping his eyes on the lane, he nocks an arrow and lifts his arms, pulling back the string until it is taut. I quickly reach out, adjusting his stance and hold, then pull my hands back. He looses the arrow and strikes the target on the outer ring. Surprise lights in his eyes for a split second before the sadness returns and he lowers the bow.
He kicks the grass, eyes trained on the ground, and mumbles, “Mara says we’re all supposed to hate you. She says you’re not one of us anymore.”
My heart sinks. He’s only a child, barely older than Fin. I don’t expect him to understand the intricacies of the situation. All he can do is pick up on the emotions and words of everyone around him, and it’s clearly bothering him.
“Is that what you think?” I ask, keeping my voice calm. I’m not mad at Mara. She’s not technically wrong about me anyway. But she doesn’t understand the complete picture. She’s been lied to as I have, but there’s nothing I can do or say to convince her that she wouldn’t attribute to the Castaway mind games.
Now I know how Weston felt.
I sit on that realization for a moment, then shake my head. I can’t dwell on that. I need to focus on my purpose, and Roley, standing here in front of me.
Roley shakes his head. “No,” he murmurs.
“Then that’s all that matters. No one should change how you feel about someone else. That is up to you to decide.” Another weight settles in my stomach. Dane did exactly this to all of us about Weston and the crew. If only I had someone telling me I didn’t have to listen when I first arrived, things may have been very different.
I’m grateful I’ve at least learned these lessons now.
“I don’t want you to be one of them,” he says, his voice wobbly. “I want Fin back, too.” My heart breaks as I watch tears fall onto his cheeks.
