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“Start with the final spell itself,” Harrison cut him off when it sounded like he was going to panic again.
“To complete the final spell to seal the rift, the Weavers have to pour all of their power into it. They have to literally give their lives to heal this wound in the Earth created by the rift.”
Harrison was already shaking his head. “But what about the Heart of the Earth? What’s the purpose of that if the Weavers sacrifice their powers and themselves?”
Wiley’s expression scrunched up a little, and his hands flew in front of him as he seemed to fight for the right words. “If you imagine the rift like a tear in fabric, the power from the Weavers is the thread while the Heart is the needle used to sew it up. You need both.”
“This doesn’t make any sense. In the last life, you survived,” Dane pointed out in a louder voice while looking directly at his mate. “You left notes in a journal and packed up things before you died from wounds in your last life, right?”
Clay nodded. “In the last reincarnation of the Weavers, Grey had tried to work a scheme to take down the pestilents before the final spell, but he was double-crossed by John and most of the Weavers were killed by the pestilents. I’m guessing that we managed to temporarily close the rift, and then I escaped.”
“I saw it mentioned in other journals that Weavers were killed by pestilents while you tried to cast the final spell,” Wiley said softly. “I would wager that the Weavers have never actually cast the final spell successfully.”
“Old reports and short notes have made it back to the Guardians after the fights,” Harrison began. He shoved a hand through his hair, hating the chill that ran through him now as he thought of those old journals and blood-splattered notes returned to the Guardians by the goddesses. He’d been able to look at them through a cold, clinical eye so many years ago, but now he saw the faces of these men, witnessed firsthand the fights with the pestilents. It all took on a heavier, colder weight.
“Anything that would help us now?” Wiley prodded.
Harrison dropped his hand back to his lap and shook his head. “No. They died. They all died. Every Keeper of the Heart has gone to the rift with the Weavers, and they’ve all died protecting the Weavers in the final attack by the pestilents. There were a few instances where a Weaver or two would be killed before they even made it to the rift. They would continue on with the intention of just trying to seal the rift temporarily. It sounded like they all knew they would die there with the hope that they’d all be reborn at roughly the same time.”
Panic was starting to claw at his throat and his heart painfully slugged in his chest, trying to choke on the blood. Why panic? He was supposed to die. It was his destiny.
But it wasn’t his death that had him wanting to throw open the car door and leap from the SUV. It was Hale’s. Something had changed in the past several days on this mind-melting road trip toward the end. The Weaver who was simply supposed to do his duty and save the world had become more. The man was more than a soul chosen by the goddesses. Hale had become a living, breathing creature with a brilliant, hopeful vision for the world. He saw beyond man’s petty squabbles and fleeting existence to see a great cosmic dance. He was laughter and pure joy.
He wasn’t expendable to save the world.
He couldn’t fucking die.
“What about the soul mates? I thought we were supposed to make this big difference. The goddesses promised that it would be different this time because of us.” Dane’s tone grew angrier and more frantic with each word. He looked as if he were ready to climb from the front seat and shake Wiley with both hands if he didn’t agree with him.
“I don’t know!” Wiley shouted, almost choking. “There is not one word in all the journals and spell books about soul mates. There’s nothing!”
“Okay, everyone needs to calm down right this second,” Clay ordered. He carefully grabbed Dane’s shoulder and pushed the man back into the passenger seat. “Everyone take a deep breath. I don’t want any more calls from Baer or anyone else from the other cars. The road is bad enough right now.”
Harrison blinked and lifted his eyes to the highway ahead of them. The rain was still pounding on them, though he’d forgotten about it completely listening to Wiley. The water on the roads looked to be forming deeper and deeper puddles as if it no longer had anywhere to run off to. The same rains had to be running down off the mountains. Were they at risk of being washed off the roads?
