by A. K. Koonce
“Yes, but you really took your time,” she responds sarcastically.
Her humor surprises me. The Island hasn’t taken her pain yet, but she still finds strength to smile.
“I trust you.”
Warmth spreads through me at her confirmation. I threatened to leave her there to rot in that tower, and she trusts me anyway. I don’t deserve her trust, but I cling to it all the same.
“Good.”
I wrap one of my arms under her legs and the other around her shoulders, cradling her body against mine as quickly as possible to avoid any protests from the undoubtedly virtuous princess. Wherever her father is, whoever he is, he would not like the way I’m holding her or the thoughts that swarm my mind the minute her cold hands touch my neck—thoughts of her body pressed closer against mine, beneath mine. But the asshole imprisoned her at the wishes of his new queen.
Needless to say, I don’t give a fuck what her father thinks.
Her breath is unsteady, but she doesn’t question me or push me away. Her eyes shift nervously around, toward the Island and the sea, before looking at me.
Closing my eyes, I breathe in the clean scent of her before bending my knees and pushing off of the deck of the ship. I fly us high into the dark, welcoming night sky.
There’s something about flying, leaving the world behind, the way your limbs brush through the breeze. It’s something like touching death with a steady hand – terrifying and freeing all at the same time.
The air swarms around us, and a gasp emits from her lips when she realizes the ocean water is now hundreds of feet below with nothing between her fragile body and its clashing waves. Her head burrows into my chest away from the harsh wind stealing our breath away. Her arms cling tighter to my neck, but I hold her strongly against me. The feeling of her skin against mine stirs an energy through my core.
The stars, identical to the stars of her world, shine down on us, reflecting against the shimmering ocean below. I lead us out of instinct, through the night sky, to the other island. An abandoned and unspoken of place. The one place that really feels like home here—The Valhalla Ruins.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Valhalla
Alexandra
It’s everything he said it would be—amazing. Like something out of a beautiful, crumbling page of an ancient, forgotten fairytale. A lifetime of storms and winds have eroded away at the walls and structure of the relic, but the remains of the castle proudly stand tall.
I climb quickly up the disintegrating granite stairwell. The walls enclosing the castle have long since fallen away and pieces of jagged, broken stone attempt to enclose the open structure. The night air chills my skin, and I can taste the salt of the ocean as the breeze blows through my hair. Even the ethereal sky above is gorgeous. Wisps of clouds trail the sky in drifting shades of pink, green, and purple, as if the moving waves of the ocean are floating through the heavens in beautiful ever-changing colors.
Remy walks slowly behind me as I excitedly run up the curving cracked staircase. When I reach the top, my feet falter, and I stumble on the last step. The room ahead is not at all what I expected, making my heart race with worry at the simple sight of it. I hesitantly take the last step, my hand trailing over the smooth, stone railing, careful not to break it beneath my light touch.
“They call this the Valhalla Ruins.” Remy’s voice carries through the room.
Directly ahead of me is a free-standing archway framed in delicate, polished stones. Just beyond the arch is a crisp, sunny landscape; I can see the wheat blowing in the breeze as a bird takes flight in the clear blue sky. It’s unnatural, like a moving picture frame within the broken castle.
“What is that?” I ask, my voice shaking slightly. My lips thin, pushing back at the weak sound of my words.
Remy tails up the stairs, stopping just behind me. “A portal. At least I think it is ...” He laughs under his breath. “Guess Lucas didn’t include this in his grand tour, huh? We’re a few miles off the coast of Resurrection. Only Saviors can come here.”
I step away from the railing, feeling brave with Remy close by. The room contains three archways, all identical in size, but the other two standing on opposing walls are broken. Jagged pieces of the stone frame have fallen away under the test of time. One is a slate of utter blackness, an eeriness seeps out of the empty space. The other is a flat white color, like looking directly into the sun. Neither are as active as the one directly ahead of me. It’s as if the broken frames let the colors and the wonder of what lay beyond drain out.
“Are these two portals as well?”
“I use the term portal loosely. Nothing has ever gone through or come out of any of these doors.”
“You’re certain of that?” I ask, my eyes fixated on the dark archway.
“Since I’ve been here nothing has ever crossed these arches,” Remy says, walking over to the beautiful landscape arch on the far wall.
I follow behind him, taking another glimpse of the dark arch out of the corner of my eye as we pass.
“You’re missing the point, though.”
“What is the point?” I ask, stopping just in front of the sunny arch.
He smirks at me, a beautiful happiness filling his features. The look almost washes away my trepidation.
“Listen.”
I pause, listening intently to the sound of the ocean caressing the shore, the breeze brushing through the dry wheat field, and the birds chirping in the summer sun.
I can hear it. The world beyond here; I can hear it. I watch the world within the arch, so simple and beautiful. So … perfect.
“Touch it.”
“What?” I ask, my eyebrows raising high.
“It’s okay, really.”
He takes my hand gently in his, and my heart hammers beneath my ribs. I swallow hard and try to focus on the arch and not his warm hand against mine.
As he lifts my hand to the scenery before us, my wrist tenses back the closer we come to the sunny picture. My eyes dart to his, unsure of what might happen when I touch that … world.
“I’d never do anything to hurt you,” he says in a gentle voice, still guiding my hand.
Remy is as calm as ever, and his serenity spreads over me. I trust him. Maybe because I’ve had no one else in my entire life who has helped me, who has taken care of me the way he has. Maybe I shouldn’t trust him at all, but I can’t help it. My faith in him does something to him, I can tell. Part of me wants to trust him just to see his self-assuredness falter under my approval, as it has so many times already.
Without realizing it, he’s placed my palm flat against the surface. The scenery within the arch blurs and swirls, changing beneath my touch. Within the arch the sun beats down on the crashing waves. Miles and miles of water is all I see. It’s all I’d seen for my entire life until I met Remy.
It’s the ocean as seen from my tower window.
“It shows what is on the viewer’s mind, whatever place you might be thinking of,” Remy says in a quiet voice.
Then I realize, this is why he comes here. To see a world he once lived in.
“It’s not a portal,” I say in a whisper, running my fingers over the glass water-like world.
“Maybe it is. If I had to guess, Id’ say Felicity damaged them somehow. Or maybe it’s a one-way portal. Maybe all of these are one-way portals, and we’re just on the wrong side.”
His words crawl down my spine and settle nervously in my stomach. I lower my hand from the cool surface, the world beyond spinning back to the wheat field. I do my best not to look over at the dark arch again, thinking of what might be on the other side of the shadow land.
“Why did you bring me here?” I ask as my stomach sinks lower and lower, my chest feeling tight with panic.
His mouth opens and then closes. He doesn’t know either.
“I—I wanted you to feel more comfortable on the Island.”
“You feel comfortable here?” I ask in astonishment.
“I do.�
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I try not to react to his astounding admission, but my stomach turns uneasily as I give him a tight lipped smile.
What kind of world is this where he feels comfortable in this eerie ruin of a life? It’s unnatural and cryptic, like God himself wouldn’t dare fathom Resurrection Island. Life isn’t meant to be here. Something strange is meant to happen here.
And Remy would rather be here than on the Island.
“Remy, what is it that Resurrection Island does?” I take an encouraging breath and continue in a confident voice. “I want to be here. I want so badly to be here. I can’t stay if I don’t know what this place is.”
He opens his mouth, before turning away from me. He’s quiet as he walks to the brightly lit arch and runs his hand along the crumbling brick work.
“I can’t tell you.” His voice is hardly a whisper, a sorrow filled confession.
I exhale loudly.
He once told me he only says what he means. I loved that about him as soon as he said it. Of all the years that people have lied to my face, I fully loved how much honesty this man has.
In this moment I hate him for it. He isn’t lying to me. He won’t. I know he won’t. He’s just simply refusing to tell me.
My chest fills with heavy frustration, and I’m left to my own conclusions.
I can’t feel the hum of the Island within these crumbling walls. Maybe there’s a reason for that. Maybe Resurrection Island isn’t why this world exists.
Maybe Valhalla is.
CHAPTER EIGHT
Vitally Cautious
Remy
“I didn’t mean to upset you the other night,” I say to her.
“You didn’t upset me. It’s just a lot to take in. Everything here is a lot to take in.” Alexandra kicks lightly at the ocean water as she walks barefoot along the shore.
It’s been about a week since I took her to Valhalla, and I’ve spent that week mostly avoiding her. It’s pathetic, really. I’ve busied myself with ... absolutely nothing. There’s nothing to do on this island, especially if you’ve worked so hard to keep everyone at a distance. So instead of seeking her out and apologizing like I should have, I hid deep within the tangled forest. Hunting occasionally and napping mostly.
I walk the sandy shore in my boots, trailing along beside her bare feet that splash playfully through the water. Sand clings to the soles of my black boots, tarnishing the shine of my shoes with every step I take. The sun is low in the sky, ready to conclude another torturously long day on Resurrection Island.
“I’ve considered asking Johnny to teach me to swim.”
“Johnny?” I ask, stopping in my tracks at the idea of Johnny teaching her anything. “You two are friends?”
“Of course we are. He plays Pochen with me almost every night.”
Pochen … Johnny’s been spending his evenings teaching her to play bloody German poker, wagering God knows what with this beautiful British princess, while I’ve been sulking in the forest like some kind of damn banished baboon.
“And you’re going to ask him to teach you to swim?” I ask as slowly as possible, still not able to comprehend how this all turned into a disaster I helped create.
She stops toying with the water and slowly faces me, her eyes sparkling with a hint of a smile playing at the corner of her lips.
“Would that be a problem if I did?” she asks, folding her arms across her chest, her head tilting to the side.
I raise my eyebrows at her, unsure how to respond without sounding like a possessive lunatic.
“No, it’s not a problem. I just didn’t know you spent so much time with him. I didn’t know you spent your evenings together. I didn’t know you liked spending your evenings … with him …” I trail off, knowing I sound like an idiot. “You really want him to teach you to swim?” I ask, my voice cracking like a pubescent boy.
I clear my throat as she bursts into laughter, doubling over, and holding her stomach like she might float away. Confusion etches my features as I watch her happiness. Her laughter would be the most beautiful sound I’ve ever heard if she wasn’t being so frustrating right now.
“No, I don’t want him to teach me to swim. I haven’t been around many people in my life, but are men always so … transparent?”
“Transparent?” I say, trying to grasp where this is going.
She smiles coyly at me before continuing to walk the shoreline. I trail after her, sloshing water with every anxious step I take.
“If you don’t want me to ask Johnny, you could just offer to teach me yourself, you know.”
She doesn’t look at me as she makes her suggestion. I blink a few times, thinking through my actions. Could I really offer to teach her how to swim? It seems like something too normal to do here … swim laps in the ocean while people waste away on shore.
If she’s with me, she wouldn’t spend her evenings with Johnny. She’d be safe away from the watching eyes of Felicity.
“Would you want … to learn to swim?” My tone sounds as if English isn’t my first language and I clench my jaw at how awkward I sound.
I haven’t done anything leisurely in years. I certainly haven’t invited people along. Jesus, this is going to be a shit show.
“How kind of you to ask. I’ll meet you here tomorrow morning after the Saviors return.”
After the Saviors return? She can’t really expect Johnny to join us. When I asked to spend time with her, I didn’t know I’d volunteered to be the third fucking person jumping on the back of a one man unicycle.
She laughs at me again, the frustratingly beautiful sound I can’t help but lose my focus on.
“I was hoping Cali and Lucas would join us.”
“Cali and Lucas, sure. That sounds great,” I say, stuffing my hands into my pockets. Much better than Johnny. Invite everyone. Invite the whole damn island, just not him.
***
It’s early, and my body is starting to feel the effect of spending a week straight on the Island. I don’t know how the others do it. Some live years without showing any signs of fatigue; I spend one week locked away here, and my heart wants to give up. I can feel how slowly it beats now, hesitant to keep going under the pulsing demands of the Island. Because I’m alive it demands more of me. I have more to offer it; I feel more than the others.
Does Alexandra feel it? Does she feel her life pulling out of her like a sieve into the core of this world?
I stand on the dock staring into the rising sun, narrowing my gaze against the blazing glare of it. It’s almost here. I can feel it. The Vela crossed into this world minutes ago. My heart pounds in my chest, feeling more alive in the last few minutes than it has all week. I strain my eyes, searching the sea for the ship my body is so connected with. Breathing hard, I urge its sails tighter against the winds, drawing it faster through the waves, needing to board the ship as soon as possible if only for a few minutes off this hellish land.
And there it is, soaring through the crashing water like a hundred foot speed boat. Elation bursts in my chest, and I can’t help but run up the dock to meet it at the shore. The other ships are still farther out, just tiny dots within the water. But the other ships don’t matter.
It slows the closer it comes to the land, the men on board working frantically to dock the ship. Before the anchor is even released I’ve already stepped foot onto the ancient boards. An unexplainable connection greets me in my veins. The magic of the old boards push life into my lethargic mind. I should sail right out of here and never look back.
Felicity wouldn’t allow that dream to manifest, however. At the first sign of an unauthorized trip, the boat would sink like a wishing stone to the ocean floor.
I see Lucas at the wheel of the ship, his head resting in his hands, a look of exhaustion in his heavy shoulders. I make my way through the mass of working men, taking the stairs two at a time to greet him.
“Lucas. A two-day trip? That’s a good sign, right? Any Survivors?”
When he turns to me t
he answer is written all over his sunken face.
Shit.
He looks ill, like his life is slipping from his body as we speak. I grasp his shoulder lightly as he stares at me, through me almost. My heart pounds in my ears, washing away the sound of the ocean waves with the sound of fear pumping through my body.
“You found Survivors,” I say quietly, the realization hitting my chest like a ton of bricks.
He nods slowly, so slowly I’m not sure if he’s really answering me. He’s lost weight. He’s a shell of the man he was just a few days ago.
“I have to see Felicity.”
My mouth opens to speak, but no words come out. He’s right; he needs to see her immediately. I knew this was a bad idea. There are reasons why Survivors are not Saviors. The pain needs somewhere to go to be stored. Lucas isn’t really alive. His body can’t hold an abundance of emotion. and pain; it’s the heaviest emotion of them all.
“All right, let’s go,” I say swinging his arm over my shoulder and ushering him to the dock. I take my time, weaving through the throng of people who have gathered at the shore to greet the men. I try not to remind the Islanders how different I am. They know, of course. Some of them watch me like I might perform a parlor trick if they’re quiet enough. I walk quickly up the sandy beach, trying not to alarm anyone of the almost dead man I’m dragging along with me.
I make it two feet into the forest when I come face to face with Alexandra. She smiles at me for mere seconds before her face falls when she sees Lucas.
“What happened to him?” she asks, holding his head in her hands.
“He’s fine; everything’s fine, love,” I say with a charming smile, pulling my friend out of her reach.
“He is not fine; we must help him,” she says worriedly, stalking behind us as we walk into the seclusion of the trees. She makes her presence known, her feet trampling harshly over the vegetation.
I continue on at an agonizingly slow pace, attempting to keep her calm without showing her just how concerned I really am.
“What happened to him, Remy? Did she do this?”
I turn on my heels, swinging Lucas’ lifeless body with me like an afterthought, wanting to silence her words. She needs to never say anything like that again. It is imperative whatever she’s thinking needs to vanish from her mind.
