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Tall pillars of weather-beaten gray stone stand like a forest and stretch as far as I can see over the island’s surface. As we draw closer, I can discern the ruins of old colonnades and porticos built in the shape of interlocking circles. Pathways of broken pavement run between them, half buried in sand. The roofs and walls of the structures have long since crumbled away, worn down by centuries of storms and the vicious winds that whip across the island, but an echo of splendor remains even in their ruins.
The sight sends a pang of strange longing through me, as if I recognize this place from a half-forgotten dream. Evya beckons me forward and I follow her inland among the ruins, still studying the scene. I suppose it must be an old Atathari city, but I’ve never known the merroc to build such elaborate structures on land.
A path winds through the pillars, overgrown with brush. Evya treads lightly, her bare feet silent on the sandy ground as she leads me through the stones. The only sound is the rustle of wind in the sea grass and the faint cry of gulls overhead.
We pass close by one of the massive pillars. I pause, peering at the designs chiseled into it. The stone is etched with intricate knotwork patterns that weave together into a large, nine-pointed star. A remnant of scrollwork adorns the top, and I make out the shapes of stars and breaking waves set alternately around its circumference. All at once the reason for the familiarity strikes me. These motifs are elven handiwork, crafted in an ancient style of my kindred. My gaze sweeps over my surroundings once more, and this time I make sense of the pattern in which the pillars stand.
“Was this an elven temple?” I jump at the sound of my own voice, suddenly loud in the strange solemnity of the ruins.
“Yes.” Evya’s voice is soft, filled with a depth of emotion I did not expect. She pauses by a particularly worn pillar and traces the swirling carvings that are barely visible in its weathered surface. “This island was once the heart of Seyr Orthira.”
I stare at her in disbelief. I’ve heard stories of the fabled city all my life, but I hadn’t realized any part of it still stood.
“It once spanned forty square leagues, from here to the cliffs of the mainland and all the islands and waters in between. It was a built from the ingenuity of land and sea combined—a place where your people and mine could dwell together in friendship.” There is a whisper of sadness in Evya’s voice. “Many kingdoms of elves and tribes of merroc have risen and fallen over the centuries, but the sea has not forgotten the realm that once flourished here.”
“I know the stories. It was one of the four great cities which the elves and the tuath built together, when the world was young and no strife had yet risen between us. There’s a legend among the elves that the cities will be rebuilt someday and put everything right in the world, though I’ve never put much stock in that story.” I run my hand through my hair absently as my mind whirls with thoughts. My heart rises a little to think of the elves and the merroc building such a magnificent city long ago. If such friendship happened before, it can happen again. Perhaps I should take the old legend more seriously. “This is incredible. Is that why you brought me here?”
Her fingers clench and unclench the fabric of her skirt, betraying anxiety. “That is a part of it. But this island holds a different significance to my people now—one that concerns you specifically.”
My brow furrows as I try to imagine what other significance this place could have. I wait for her to elaborate, but she just keeps walking farther along the path. I lag a few steps behind, still taking in the sight of the ruins and trying to imagine the toll of temple bells and the smell of incense filling this island so long ago.
Evya, too, seems lost in thought. At last she glances back at me. “The sea likes you.”
A thrill of pride runs through me. “How can you tell?”
“It says so. It also says you’re a fool. A brave fool who is likely to swim too deep on currents you do not understand.”
“... well, at least it’s honest.” I match Evya’s stride and walk beside her, still too caught up in the wonder of this day for her words to sober me much. “So, I’ll never have to wonder where I stand with the sea, or with you. I wish I could say as much for my own people.”
“I think you are not quite one of your own people,” she says, sounding thoughtful. She reaches out and brushes her fingers over the marks on my shoulder. “We sometimes give this rune to land-dwellers who want to live among our tribes. It happens from time to time—a human sailor will fall in love with one of us, or some such story. But usually the runes only keep them from dying. Those who bear them are never truly at home beneath the surface. But when you swam, you looked as though you were part of the sea.”
“That’s what it felt like.” The adrenaline of the swim still buzzes through me, along with a singing sense of hope. “It was as if I was coming home or reclaiming a lost piece of myself.”
Her eyes narrow as though trying to figure out a puzzle. “It’s not part of elven magic to be so adaptable. Otherwise, Falamar and his kind would have overrun the sea by now.”
“It isn’t elven magic. It’s a trait particular to the Dalzana family.” A trait I’d known was possible but had almost given up hope of experiencing. If I needed any more confirmation that I’m on the right path, this was it. “My line was chosen long ago as pathminders—those who watch over the pathways between worlds as representatives of the Lyrium. One aspect of that work, especially for a prophet, is to settle conflicts and deliver messages among the many worlds. We might be sent to any realm, and some of them are very different from Tandith. The One granted us magic that would allow us to adapt and survive more easily, even in conditions no normal elf would be able to endure.”
“A convenient gift.” Evya pauses at a place where the path forks in two, then chooses the right-hand path. The ground turns from sand to chips of broken paving stones that bite into the soles of my feet. All around us, the sea grass whispers in uneasy voices.
“Not always. The catch is that the power is beyond our control. It emerges when we need it to carry out the tasks we’re given, but we cannot use it at will. If I can take to the sea so easily, it’s because my destiny lies there—for better or for worse.” To my surprise, her mouth twists into a grimace. My elation ebbs. “Does this not please you?’
“It means I must accept that you are meant to undertake the challenge, even if it does not end well for you.” She breathes a heavy sigh. “To be honest, I did not expect you to take to the sea so well. I thought the depth and darkness of the ocean might overwhelm you and cause you to change your mind about contending for my hand.”
I look to her in surprise, fighting back a wave of indignation. “You thought I would prove a coward?”
“Not a coward. A sensible elf. It seems you are neither,” she adds, her expression softening into a faint smile. “Since you mean to go through with the challenge, I wish you to fully understand the danger you will be facing. That’s why I brought you to this island.”
“The challenge is here?” I glance around at the peaceful ruins. “This doesn’t seem so bad.”
“Not yet.” Evya’s words hang ominously in the air.
She continues winding her way through the ruins, picking out a path that is almost overgrown with brush. As we press deeper into the heart of the island, the stillness of the landscape grates against my senses. No seabirds alight among the ruins, and even the breeze seems unnaturally quiet. I strain to pick out any sound I can.
A distant roar whispers in my ears. Cold and droning, like a cry of despair and the din of battle twined into one. The hair along my arms prickles.
The wind stirs the brush around us, and the sound is lost. I let out a tense breath. Perhaps I only imagined it.
