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Victoria’s words from a lifetime ago, innocent, seemingly entirely innocuous, were, in fact, neither. Seren would be unable to stop Lark, unable to bring Victoria back, or interfere with the plan that had been in motion for months.
Above all, Seren knew she’d be unable to keep Magnus away—
“Do it, Seren! I beg you, please, do it! My darling heart. You have to. There is no other way. I love you. I forgive you.”
Victoria’s voice was drowned by the waves, her eyes fierce with anger and alight with power.
“Call your Water, Seren. Now!”
The words and the tears spilled from Seren’s soul itself.
“Come, Water, rise sea… Protect from harm… Bring peace… End this.”
The immense wave rose higher, threatening to consume everything. For one terrifying moment, life itself was suspended. Magnus looked behind himself, and his mouth opened in a soundless shriek, realization dawning. Victoria’s relieved smile was the last thing Seren saw.
In the eerie silence, broken only by the hammering of her own pulse in her ears, uneven and unsteady, Seren sent one last prayer to her craft.
“Take her gently…”
The circle held as her heart shattered.
Seren choked on her tears, the salt mixing with the ocean’s own, and dropped her arms, releasing the Water, drowning the world. Killing a part of herself.
22
LARK, SHALLOW REASONS & SHALLOWER TRUTHS
ACCIDENT AT THE CROW’S LAGOON LEAVES THREE INJURED!
It’s with profound sadness that the Caw has to report an accident that occurred on the beach of the Crow’s Lagoon and resulted in multiple victims. We are still gathering all the facts.
Please stand by for names, conditions of those who were involved, and what exactly transpired.
From the scarce facts the Caw has been able to ascertain, it appears that the wealthy and disreputable Magnus Rathcross of Baton Rouge, Louisiana, was one of the involved parties. Magnus, a cousin of the Rathcross Foundation CEO, Dagmar Rathcross, who has traveled on and off Dragons “a lot lately,” first arrived on the island a short time ago.
Mr. Rathcross was revealed to be none other than the estranged husband of one of the town’s newest and beloved residents, Lark Thibodeaux, whom you might’ve met if you eat at the Tavern, shop at Blossoms, or get your bread and pastries at Cupcake. Ms. Thibodeaux has also risen in popularity and trust among the townies thanks to her deep and consistent involvement with the Refuge as its data coordinator, intake manager, and one of its most diligent volunteers.
Ms. Thibodeaux is an “absolute gift to the Refuge, as has been proven time and again, but especially in her organization of the momentous fundraiser which ensured the institution’s sustainability and development for years to come,” stated Dr. Sam Threadneedle, a teacher at Dragons School for Girls and wife of the illustrious Headmistress Nox. She also added that no matter who shows up on the island to claim a connection with Ms. Thibodeaux, she remains under the Refuge’s protection.
According to the Caw’s investigation, Ms. Thibodeaux is one of the people injured and required medical assistance after the accident at the lagoon. The fate of others involved remains undisclosed.
Since Sheriff Redding is expected to be relieved of his duties as a result of alleged corruption, as reported by Mayor Allende and Councilwoman Crowhart, Crow’s Nest is holding its collective breath that no further law-enforcement-related incidents will occur while the town remains unprepared.
Watch this space and send love and light to all affected by the events of the past few days.
—Crow’s Caw
Days later, and Lark still felt the gun. Its cold steel, the way it cut through skin and claimed blood. Her blood.
Even under Ceridwen’s gentle fingertips and the care of the craft, the scar at her temple where he’d struck her would never fade. She was forever marked by a man. A man who would have sooner seen her dead than free. A man who had once sworn to protect her. A man who was a monster.
A monster that Seren and the Crowharts had slain with a sacrifice of the highest order.
Tears kept falling, her eyes swollen and heavy, and Lark had no idea how to stop them. How could she even begin to acknowledge the sheer horror of the last forty-eight hours?
She had been with Victoria, the kitchen lights a cozy glow between them. Seren had been in bed, where Lark had left her, sated, happy and safe.
They were making soup again. Soup and Crowharts just seemed to go together. In retrospect, of all the things to be doing as the world ended, soup seemed both a complete aberration and the most perfect thing ever. Chicken noodle soup. Victoria had said that nothing could ever compare to the magic of chicken noodle soup when comfort and succor were needed, and so there they were, the two of them, in the tiny space lit by dozens of candles and Victoria’s favorite little lamps.
