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We wandered between the displays: weathered newspaper articles, old black and white photos, pieces of clothing belonging to some particularly exceptional mayor who as far as I could tell had simply built a new bridge over the river. Not exactly gripping stuff. I was about to call it quits when my gaze caught on a painting that filled one corner of the backwall.
My pulse stuttered. I walked up to it, a strange feeling of recognition prickling through me. I’d never seen the image before, but somehow I felt as if I knewit.
It was a simple design showing the sprawl of the snowcapped mountains. But in the center, between two of the ridges, a spark shot up like a flame toward the sky. I reached for it, catching myself just short of touching thecanvas.
“Do you like that?” the historical volunteer asked, coming up behind me. She gave me a soft smile. “It’s an interpretation of a larger piece in the town square, if you want to see theoriginal.”
“Yes,” I said, so enthusiastically her eyebrows twitched up. “Where’sthat?”
“It’s a quick walk from here,” she said. “Just take a left when you go out, walk two blocks, then another left and you’ll see thesquare.”
“Thanks!” I rushed for the door. The guys fell in behindme.
“Did you find something?” Nateasked.
“I think so. Comeon.”
I hurried down the street along the route the woman had given me. We stepped into a tiny cobblestone square with only a few buildings on each side and an inn at the far end. In the middle of the square stood a dark gray stone obelisk, twinkling with specks of mica. It towered at least half again as tall as me. The same image from the painting was carved into its flatsurface.
It drew me to it until I was close enough to touch. This time I let myself lay my hand on the cool stone surface. It seemed to tremble beneath mypalm.
A crash of memory swept the worldaway.
No, not memory. Because the image of my mother that rose before my eyes wasn’t one I’d ever seen before. She was standing in front of that obelisk, her brown hair shining in the sun, wearing the same dress she’d had on the last time I’d seen her. My chestsqueezed.
She’d left this message for me seven years ago, when she’d stood in this exact samespot.
“Serenity,” she said, her bright voice wavering from right inside my ears. “I wish I had more time to say everything I should, but I don’t know how far ahead of them I’ve managed to stay. So all I can tell you is this: I want to give you everything you need to survive the many challenges I know are ahead of you. Our people left a power in this place centuries ago. If I haven’t returned to bring it to you, there’s still a chance you can retrieve it yourself. For you to have made it this far, you must be so strongalready.”
She touched the image of the flame between the mountains. “Here is where you’ll find it. Your dragon nature will help you follow the path.” Then she gazed straight into my eyes. “I love you. Never forgetthat.”
The image wisped away. I found myself braced against the stone, my eyes swimming withtears.
“Ren?” Nate saidtentatively.
I inhaled shakily and swiped at my eyes. “I’m okay,” I said. “I know what we need to do. I know why my mother sent us here. There’s something here I need if we’re going to fix all the damage the rogues havecaused.”
I backed up, looking at the picture and then the mountain ranges around us. There. I stopped when my gaze settled on a matching pair of peaks. The sun was high above them now, but it would gleam between them like a flame when it was first rising. I raised myhand.
“We’re going up thatmountain.”
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