I woke before dawn, not with a jolt, but with a heart far too awake to pretend I was still resting.
The room was steeped in a bluish dimness, the kind of light that belongs to no specific hour, as if time itself hesitated to move forward. The air was warm from the infusion someone had left on the table, and the silence was so dense I could hear my own thoughts echoing against the ceiling.
Beside me, Declan slept deeply. His face was turned toward me, his bare chest rising and falling in a heavy rhythm, as though each breath cost him more than it should. His brow was faintly furrowed, as if even in sleep he couldn't fully let go of whatever fear had taken hold of him. He looked exhausted—beyond the body. As if carrying the island, its people… and me, was beginning to break him from the inside.
I watched him for a long time in silence, without touching him.
I didn't want to wake him.I didn't want to worry him further.I didn't want him to try to protect me again without having answers to give me.
The warmth of the bed wasn't enough. There was a part of me that didn't feel at home—not even here, not even with him so close. It wasn't anyone's fault. It was that old feeling, that quiet intuition of being part of something I hadn't chosen, yet was already risking more than I could afford to lose.
There was something in me that wasn't right.Or wasn't normal.And I didn't know whether I should fear it… or accept it.
I thought of my father. Of his letter. Of his silence. Of that cursed phrase: They protected you.
From what?From whom?
The answers weren't within these walls. Not in the books I had read. Not even in Declan, who now seemed more concerned with protecting me than speaking to me with clarity.
And I was tired of everyone talking about me… without talking to me.
My body felt lighter than it had the day before, but not entirely my own. There was a subtle electricity in my hands, a faint pressure at the base of my skull, a new sensitivity that made the edges of reality feel sharper, as though I could perceive things I hadn't before.
I had spent too long waiting for others to explain who I was, why things were happening to me, or what the symbols that marked me without permission meant. But something inside me—stronger now, steadier—was shifting. I could no longer sit still and wait for the world to make sense of me.
I needed to find it for myself.
And I knew exactly where.
The lagoon.
Not out of nostalgia. Not because of him. Not even because of the beauty of that place that had once witnessed our first kiss. I wanted to return because it was the only place where, for a moment, I had felt accepted by the island. Not feared. Not rejected.
After what had happened in the garden, that certainty had fractured.
And I needed to know if I was still welcome.
I rose quietly. I took a cloak from the rack—the lightest one, the least noticeable—and tied my hair back with a ribbon. I walked toward the door without lighting a single lamp. Every step was a decision. Every breath a silent promise that I would return soon.
I wasn't going far.I wasn't taking risks.I just needed to go back. To see. To feel. To confirm.
I left no note. I woke no one. I told neither Melyra nor Lyanna. In my mind, it was a brief walk. A meeting with myself.
I would be back before the sun fully rose.
I opened the door.
The house slept.
The island… did not.
There was no wind that morning.
The sky, veiled in thin, high clouds, seemed suspended in an unnatural pause, as though the island itself were holding its breath. The path to the lagoon felt longer than I remembered—or perhaps my steps were slower. Every tree, every branch, every moss-covered stone seemed to watch me in silence, as if they recognized me… but didn't know what to do with me.
The first time I had walked this path, I had done so holding Declan's hand.
Now my hands were cold, empty, buried in the sleeves of my cloak.
I didn't turn back.
Not because I was brave—but because something inside me needed to arrive.
When I reached the clearing, I saw it.
The lagoon was exactly as I remembered—and yet different. I couldn't tell if it was the hour, the light, or the way I was seeing it now. The water looked darker, but still clear, reflecting the muted sky, the tangled branches, the damp stones. Nothing moved.
Not even the fish.
I approached slowly, careful not to break the silence. The air felt warmer here, heavier than in the rest of the island. I knelt on the same rock where I had knelt before, closed my eyes, and placed my hand on the surface.
Nothing happened.
I waited.
I kept waiting.
And just as I thought I would feel nothing at all… the vibration returned.
A pulse.
Faint.
Beneath the water.
Or beneath me.
It wasn't a threat.
It was a response.
But something was off.
I opened my eyes and looked toward the opposite edge. Nothing. Only trees, mist, liquid darkness.
I leaned closer, extending my other hand. I dipped my fingertips into the water. A small ripple formed. The temperature wasn't cold, nor warm—it matched my body exactly.
As if the lagoon had been waiting for me.
—If you still accept me —I whispered— I need a sign.
The water trembled—not from wind, not from movement. A single ripple moved outward, then returned, brushing gently against my bare feet.
And then I saw it.
A figure.
Not flesh. Not shadow.
A luminous silhouette within the water.
I didn't move.
I didn't blink.
At first it was small. Then it grew. Then it changed. For a moment, it looked like a child… red-haired. Only for a moment. Then another face emerged behind him—older, taller. Eyes like Declan's… but not his.
A third face appeared farther back. Female. With a faint glow across her forehead.
It lasted only seconds.
But something carved itself into my memory like sacred stone.
I tried to speak—
The water surged.
I stood abruptly, stepping back.
And everything changed.
A hand seized me from behind, covering my mouth. I didn't scream—I didn't have time. Another grip locked my arms behind me. I struggled, but the body holding me was stronger, faster.
They dragged me toward the forest's edge without a word.
I saw dark cloaks. Veiled faces. Absolute silence.
Women.
Not soldiers. Not enemies.
Women of the island.
One of them leaned toward me as they pinned me against a tree. Her face was hidden behind a red cloth. Only her eyes showed.
There was no fury in them.
Only judgment.
—If the island has wounded you —she whispered— then you are not worthy.
I tried to speak. To explain.
They didn't listen.
—The ritual was corrupted. The bond was not clean. He manipulated the signs. No one asked us if you were the chosen one.
Something damp covered my face—a cloth that smelled of sage and root.
Darkness.
Everything spun.
And then…
Nothing.