Page 166 of In Rising Tides

Hair on the back of his neck rose, and a shiver crawled down his spine, leaving gooseflesh in its wake.

Wind spun around them in a perfect circle. It raked through their hair and tugged at their clothes as if trying to pry them off the beach.

“It’s working,” Maelys whispered.

A spool of light threaded through Jordania’s fingers as she shook the stones and Lyra’s shell pendant.

The brine in the air thickened as the waves behind them swelled. It clung to his skin and dampened his hair as if he had been submerged beneath the surface.

Jordania’s voice was all-consuming and mighty.

It waseverything.

It was the earth and the moon, the land and the sea.

Night and day. Above and below.

Wilder was enthralled, as he had been the first time Lyra’s magic slipped her grip.

With a mighty throw, Jordania flung the stones onto the ground, and they landed in a perfect ring with Lyra’s shell in the center.

Beams of light shot from the sapphire shell to each rock, connecting them.

The light grew, and Wilder shielded his eyes from the burning.

Heat surged, and he felt the magic within him clawing to the surface to put out flames that weren’t there.

Light burst from behind his eyelids and then went out.

Jordania slumped to her side, a sigh escaping her lips.

“It’s done.”

“Lyra …” Wilder’s voice called.

She stared and stared at the stone, willing it to show her the cottage or his face.

Sand from the seabed swirled between her and the stone as she slumped to the ground, her eyes never leaving the silver in front of her.

She waved an arm to disperse the silt. Her arm felt heavier than usual, like she were moving a limb that was not her own.

The scent evolved, too. It smelled warm. Like there was heat pulsating from the stone.

It was sunlight.

“I hear you. I’m here,” she replied, her voice cracking slightly as she pressed her forehead against the warm rock.

It felt the same as when she had sat on the shore beside the summer cottage. Memories of the rocks beneath her bare feet, warmed by hours spent beneath the sun.

It was solid, but soft in a way. There were no cracks or abrasions. It had been worn smooth over a millennium in the current.

I’m not giving up on you.

A flash of heat erupted under her ribs, followed by a spiraling pull—tugging her heart upward.

The heat blossomed, unfurling from her chest and encasing her arms. It surged down, enveloping her tail and fins.

A cracked, aching sound escaped her lips, and then another.