Page 123 of The Isles of the Gods
I wish I knew how to find the start of my story, how to untangle all the threads. How to trace them back past PortNaranda to Kirkpool, past the death of my father, past school, back to the beginning.
I wish I could try it all again. I’d do it differently.
But I’ve always let others hold the pen—I’ve let them shuffle my pages with barely a protest, cross out what mattered most, scrawl all over the things I wanted to say and do.
I’ve never written my own words, but instead let others choose the twists and turns of my story for me.
I’ve let everything happentome, compromising over and over again, until I’ve found myself here, finally desperate to act but completely out of options.
Ahead, Dasriel finds a rocky ledge, almost like a pathway leading around the outside of the mountain.
When I step out onto it, there’s a sheer drop to my right—a death sentence if I slip. Far below lies the jungle, the sea, this impossibly bright part of the world, so different from the sedate green fields and sandstone of Alinor, the busy streets of Port Naranda.
To my left is a stone wall, trickles of water running down its grooves, moss clinging to its weatherworn surface. The path itself curls up and around the mountain and toward the peak.
If Leander and the others haven’t found this path, then we’re moving faster than them now. We might make up enough time to catch them.
It’s not long before my world narrows to the path ahead of me, my whole body singing with tension as I place each foot, ready to scramble if it slips. The wet stone is treacherous, and time loses all meaning as I take one step, then another, then another. I’m truly not sure if minutes pass, or hours.
I’m pulled from my reverie when the air around me changes,and a hint of a breeze hits my sweat-soaked skin. Up ahead there’s a noise of surprise from Dasriel and a shout of triumph from Laskia—then I’m around the bend, and abruptly at the end of our rocky ledge.
Ahead of me, the path opens up into a clear space among the trees, and there’s nothing but blue sky above us.
We’ve reached the peak of the mountain.
There’s no temple here, just a set of stone stairs leading underground, and as the three of us fan out, I catch a flash of movement—someone’s hurrying down the stairs, about to disappear out of view.
Dasriel has seen it too, and my excuses won’t hold him now—he lifts his gun, closing one eye and spreading his stance as he takes aim with a steady hand.
I’m frozen, desperately wanting to move but pinned in place, bile rising in my throat.
But I still have a few more pages of my story left to write, andI’mthe one who’ll choose what they say. Even if I’m writing my own ending.
I raise my voice as I hear the click of the safety coming off.
“Leander, look out!”
SELLY
The Temple of the Mother
The Isles of the Gods
Stone explodes above my head, and for an instant I glimpse a staircase leading deeper underground—then Leander crashes into me from behind.
He grunts as we fall together in a tangle of limbs—the stone walls and steps whirl past, and I throw my arms out desperately to try and stop my fall, but I can’t even tell which way is up. I curl my head in and pray, and then abruptly I’m crashing into the smooth stone floor at the base of the steps. Leander lands on top of me with a thump, driving the breath from my lungs.
For a moment there’s nothing but silence, the sting of cuts and grazes, and the sharp pain that tells me I’ll be covered in bruises tomorrow. If there is a tomorrow.
“The gun,” Keegan gasps from somewhere behind me, and I realize both the boys fell together, and we’re still lying where we landed, stunned. “Quick, keep moving.”
Leander rolls off me and onto his back with a groan, and Iscramble to my feet, grabbing his hand and hauling him upright. Still too winded to speak properly, he waves a hand toward the passage that lies ahead, stumbling desperately toward it.
Somehow, impossibly—because we’re unquestionably underground—there’sdaylightahead, just around the bend.
I push my aching body to a run, feet shuffling along the gritty floor of the passageway as I hurry past him to scout, straining my ears for footsteps behind us. Then, as I swing around the corner, I gasp as the temple opens up ahead of me.
The Temple of the Mother isnothinglike the temple of her daughter Barrica—it’s on a completely different scale.
