Page 180 of In Violent Waves

“It was a pleasure, Lyra of Atlantis.”

Lyra stood frozen as the tree ambled away with slow, crunching strides.

“Was that a dream?” she spoke at last when the sun speared through the thinner canopy of the hawthorns.

“It was not.”

Wilder watched as her face turned from anger to wonder, and, lastly, to horror.

“I think—I think I’m going to be sick.”

She bent over at the waist and proceeded to catch her breath. He rubbed lazy strokes over her back, and she didn’t pull away.

“It’s going to be okay.”

“How? How is it going to be okay?”

“The library at the Mannereds is second to none. And if I know anything about you, it is that you have a thirst for knowledge. You’re afraid of your magic because you know nothing about it. You fear the unknown and the lies that were spewed. We simply need to increase your knowledge to decrease your fear.” He said it with as much authority as his title held.

“And you think that will help?”

“I know it will.”

She shifted on her feet and squeezed her fingers together in a way that was most out of character for her.

“I killed someone. What if it happens again?” Her voice was quiet and timid.

All at once, it hit him—she needed a vote of confidence, someone to believe in her when she couldn’t believe in herself.

“I believe you are capable of anything you put your mind to. You have lived through so much in your short life—I see that now. You were only a child, and it was an accident. It was not your fault. I see the scars you hide, the tremble in your voice when you can’t contain your anger, I see the fire in your eyes when you’ve been wronged, and the way you try to stifle it. I want you to wield that anger, Lyra. Wield it as a blade against everyone who has ever wronged you.”

She stared and stared into his eyes.

“Even against me, if you must.”

Her eyes slipped closed as she nodded.

“Give me a moment, please?” she asked, her voice shaking again.

“Anything you wish,” he murmured.

And he left her standing in the grove of hawthorn trees as he trudged back to the carriage.

The air was thick, and her limbs were numb. Lyra stood alone—breathing. That’s all she could do.

Everything pressed down upon her. To stand and fight for the world felt like learning to run before you could walk.

And she knew exactly what that felt like.

A song wove through her veins; something was calling to her. But it wasn’t the land—it was the sea. It called to her; it needed her.

Something was happening in Atlantis, and she could feel it like an oppressive cloud ruining an otherwise sunny day.

Birds sang and leaves rustled, pulling her back to the present. The scent of earth and moss and sunshine seeped into her bones, and she sighed.

“Lyra,” Maelys called. “Are you alright?”

“Just a moment!”