“Do you really want to do that?” Nadia asked.
Glorianna stared out the window rather than look at her mother.
“The Eater of the World is out there, Glorianna. It has touched Elandar three times that we know of. Four if you include that haunted stretch of sea that Michael passed through. Instead of putting the world back together, maybe you should be thinking of breaking more of it.”
She rubbed her forehead, trying to deny the headache starting to brew behind her eyes. “Lee is the only Bridge working with us. He can’t take on the burden of doing more.”
“Then what are you going to do?”
Glorianna glanced out the window. It looked like the men were getting something done now. “I think Sebastian is right. Caitlin and Michael need some time together, and the rest of us need a few hours to set aside the weight of the world. Tonight we’ll go to the Den and eat at Philo’s, listen to music, and…” Remember what romance feels like?
When she had first seen Moonlight Lover, she’d wondered if the fantasy lover was an incubus—someone Sebastian knew and had used as a model for the painting. Then Michael had showed up on her island—someone who was, and wasn’t, like her.
Considering the assessing way he had looked at her and that slip of jealousy he’d shown when he’d thought Sebastian was a lover, the odds were good that he would be interested in a night’s romp in bed. But did she really want that from him, with him?
In some ways, she wanted that very much. But her heart needed more. With Ephemera so dependent right now on the choices she made, she had to be careful.
“We’re going to eat at Philo’s, listen to music, and…?” Nadia asked.
“And tomorrow Caitlin and I will pay a visit to the White Isle,” Glorianna said, tucking the idea of romance away, along with her heart.
Long ago, beyond my memory and yours, spirits who were the voice of the world walked among us. And they knew things no ordinary human could know. Like the secret to using the Door of Locks.
Now the Door of Locks was hidden in a garden that lived in the heart of a magic hill, and that hill was the country home of the spirits who resided in this part of the land. When a person had a powerful need for something that was just beyond his grasp, he would set his feet on the road and follow his heart—and if the spirits decided he was worthy, he would find that garden.
And when he reached the garden, which was protected by high walls and a barred gate, a spirit would appear and ask, “What do you seek?”
Now, a foolish man might say he was seeking gold or jewels or some other kind of treasure. He might be allowed to enter the garden after giving such an answer—but he might not. Because the correct answer to the question—and this is most important to remember—the correct answer is “I seek the hope that lives within my heart.” Give the spirit that answer, and the garden’s gate will always open.
And then, once you’re inside…It’s a lovely place, as beautiful as a dream, and you’re allowed to wander and look and sit for as long as you please. When you’re ready, the spirit takes you to the Door of Locks.
There are one hundred identical locks on the door, and while you’re standing there, trying to fathom it all, the spirit reaches into your heart and takes out a key, and says, “Every lock leads to a different place that lives within you. Some are dark places, some are light places, some are full of struggle and sorrow while others will shower your days with joy. Choose a lock. The key will fit any one of them. Choose where your heart needs to go. Choose.”
And that is what you must do—choose. Now, some people are hasty, ignoring the spirit’s warning about the nature of the locks and thinking that since the locks all look the same they’ll all be the same. And some people don’t ask for the lock they truly want because it’s high up in a corner of the door or too low to the ground and they don’t want to be inconveniencing the spirit and they figure a lock that’s easy to reach will do just as well.
But it won’t do as well. I’ll tell you that now. It won’t do, and if you settle for what is easy instead of what you truly want, you may never discover the hope that lives in your heart.
So you choose wisely, and you choose well, and you pick the lock that matters the most to you at that moment. Then the spirit takes the key that was plucked from your heart and slips it into that lock.
It changes you. It doesn’t matter if you end up in a place you didn’t know existed or in the village where you’ve lived your whole life. It changes you—and you will never again see the world in quite the same way.
Except we’ve lost the way of it, you see.
A dark and terrible Evil swept through the land in that long-ago time, and the spirits disappeared. Some say they were all destroyed in a great battle against that Evil. Others say that those who survived went into hiding and still tend the magic garden. No one knows the answer, just as no one knows how to find the magic hill or a spirit who can pluck a key out of a person’s heart and open the Door of Locks.
But I can tell you this. That magical place still exists. And someday someone will remember how to find it—and how to open the door that leads to all the hope that lives in the heart.
—Elandar story
Chapter Eighteen
Boredom gave birth to bravery.
The True Enemy had not found It. The male Enemy had not pursued It. The voices of the haunting dead entertained It, but no living humans had sailed into Its watery landscape recently, so there had been no minds to play with, no fear to savor. As It explored the borders of this landscape, trying to sense the presence of either Enemy, It remembered the delight of being among so many minds that did not know the Eater of the World, that were unaware of the source of the whispers that floated through the twilight of waking dreams, urging humans to make choices that would dim the Light a little more. Most of the humans It had encountered in the seaport called Kendall enjoyed the shiver produced by scary stories but no longer truly believed in the things that moved in the dark, ready to hunt them.
It would go back to Kendall and help them remember, give them a reason to believe.
And then It would feast.
The carnal carnival. The Den of Iniquity certainly was that—and more than a girl who had spent her life in Raven’s Hill could imagine.
The colored lights that gave everything a festive, make-believe quality. The people strolling down the streets—or performing in the streets. And the music! Oh, Michael played his tunes, and she liked the music of her own country well enough, but this! Hot and edgy, pumping through the blood and making the heart pound with the need to move with the rhythm.
And Teaser, all cocky and full of fun, teaching her how to dance while Michael got all stony-faced. Until Glorianna started dancing, too. That had changed the man’s tune fast enough. And did her prissy-prig—how she loved that word!—brother think no one had seen him kissing Glorianna after the dancing? Ha! So when Teaser…