The bow drops to the ground at my feet and I stumble into Weston, my fingers digging into his side as I struggle to breathe.
No. This isn’t happening. This can’t be happening.
Of all the ways my mind conjured tonight could go, the worry that Weston would be hurt, or worse, taken, the nerves about Roley being discovered, the anticipation of an ambush, nothing prepared me for what Mara holds in her hand.
A limp piece of fabric I’d recognize anywhere dangles from her fingers, the circular opening hovering above the ground.
But there’s no golden glow.
My eyes fly to hers, streams of tears already falling down her cheeks as she chokes out the next words.
“He’s gone, Lennox. Storm left too. You tried to talk to me. You said you weren’t a traitor, and you didn’t abandon us, but I wouldn’t listen. I was wrong.”
Weston’s sword lowers slowly as he pieces it all together.
Ringing fills my ears and nausea churns in my stomach as I stare at the pouch.
Theemptypouch.
All these years, Edmond taught me to believe in hope, but he was wrong. Light doesn’t always find a way. We have no hope anymore. It was ripped away from us the moment the Guardian chose himself over the island.
Dane left us all here. He’s gone, and so is the dust.
We’re all trapped on Dawnlin.
