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In the darkest night there is hope and that hope is love. Duncan is with me. Dugald is with me. My mom and Moira and my dad, all of them fill my thoughts as I continue chanting the words of power. I repeat them over and over, and as the phrase reoccurs each person I’ve known and loved seems to join with me. To become part of the spell until, at last, even dear Savannah is with me.
The Darkness’s scream fades, and the wind lessens until it’s a whisper and barely a breeze. He pants heavily, staring with wide eyes and what I can only think to be fear on his face. Warmth spreads through my body as if my blood itself is increasing in temperature, but it’s not uncomfortable; it’s nice. I continue the chant and walk forward. His skin is ashen as he retreats before me.
“Quinn, this isn’t the way,” he says,
He’s shrinking as he retreats. I imagine a cage surrounding him. He screams as his back comes up against a wall of iron. The cage in my head takes shape in the world. Iron walls slam down until his screams are muffled and then the ceiling slams down with a ringing echo.
The flickering scenes disappear. I stop chanting and the world is silent. I’m breathing heavily, expecting at any moment something to happen. For him to break free, take on the form of a giant dragon and try to eat me or who knows what.
But nothing does.
Silence. Empty, but comfortable silence.
“Hello?”
My own voice echoes from unseen walls, bouncing around into a weird stereophonic effect. I look around feeling an odd mix of relief and concern that I don’t know what is next. The cage sits before me, large and imposing, but blocking all sight and sound of the Darkness contained within.
“What now?” I mutter.
A spark of light jerks my attention towards where the screens played. A tiny white light emerges from the ground. I walk over and kneel. It’s a pure white sapling, growing from the ground. As I watch it grows quickly, like time-lapse photography of a flower opening. The branch stretches up and four beautiful, silvery leaves blossom, projecting light of their own.
It’s not only a tree. It’s the Tree. Or a rebirth of the Tree.
Carefully I dig into the dirt around it until I can see its root system. I put the book back into its satchel then remove the tree. Cradling it in my palms I rise and hold it up for inspection. The pure white bark gleams, silvery veins trace its length.
When I look past it, the soft light it casts illuminates the world and I see a portal. It’s dark on dark, making it almost impossible to spot, but with the Tree’s light it’s clear as day. I stride towards it, confident it’s the way home. If it’s not, I don’t see any other way out, so this is my best hope.
“Duncan, I’m coming,” I say, and step through the portal.
ChapterTwenty-Eight
I stepout onto an empty field. My stomach lurches and for a moment I’m sure I’ll be sick, but I manage to avoid that ignoble fate. Cold air caresses my skin, which helps me focus. I’m standing on a gray-white outcropping of rock that protrudes off a hill and am looking down at the road that winds across the field towards the castle at Loch Ness.
The fishy, wet smell of the loch mixes with the odors of grass and something subtler. A coppery smell that leaves a tang on my tongue. I can’t focus my eyes at first, so it takes a moment for what I’m seeing to make sense.
What should be an open, green field broken by protruding rocks between the castle and me isn’t. When I saw this in the mirror portal, the field was covered with a horde of writhing demonic forms. Now it’s empty and black. It looks, from here at least, like a black goo covers the land and there is no horde of monstrous creatures. The only sound is the soft shush of the wind blowing across the loch.
The castle walls stand, though they are still crumbling and have the same black splashed across them, looking like demonic children were throwing buckets of dark paint. The castle gates swing open and human figures, small from this distance, emerge. They’re armed and cautious as they inspect the area. I strain my eyes, trying to make out who it is, but I’m too far away to be certain. Duncan and the others must be here somewhere.
He could be anywhere.
That’s a dark thought and I feel nauseous as I realize it. I don’t know for sure if he returned here or not, no matter what it looked like. It could have been an illusion and he could be anywhere in all of Scotland. Of all the world for all I know. Or in another world. Or, worse, what if he did come here but didn’t survive?
This is a moment of victory but it’s hollow. What point is winning if I don’t have him? Or my mom and Dugald? Without the loves of my life, this doesn’t feel like a win. More people emerge from the castle, and I hear their distant cheers. They’ve won, no matter what it costs me.
Regret is a sour taste in my mouth, but I can’t deny what I feel. Haven’t I been through enough? Done enough? It’s a paralyzing emotion that threatens to overwhelm, leaving me frozen here in a moment of indecision.
I’m not going to give in to that. I’ve saved Duncan, more than once now. I’ve faced the Darkness and I’ve forced it back into its cage. If there is another barrier in the way, then I’ll overcome it too. Inhaling deeply, I hold the fresh Scottish air in my lungs. It refreshes my body and pushes out the negative. It’s not as sweet as the Highland air and has the tang of fish-filled water on it, but no matter. As I let it out the regrets exhale along with it.
I square my shoulders and take a step forward. The path of rough rocks crunches as I press my foot down but something echoes the sound and I stop. The hairs on the back of my neck rise and energy crackles in my belly.
“Yuir not thinking you’ll be free of me so easily now are you, lass?” Duncan’s sweet, rich voice asks.
I spin without hesitation and run into his open arms. Our mouths crash painfully together but the momentary bruising pain doesn’t matter. His lips, his taste, the smell of him. His strong arms crushing me against his strong body washes it away.
I’ve never kissed or been kissed with so much intensity in my life. His hands twists in my hair as I do the same to him. We kiss long beyond our lungs’ capacity. My own are burning, screaming for air, and the world is a little gray by the time we are forced apart to gasp.
“Duncan,” I exhale.
