It was for Macon.
I held the Arclight up higher. In the iridescent moonlight of the shallow tidal cave, the dark water around my feet glittered. Even the tiniest flecks of quartz studded in the rock walls caught the light. In the darkness, the sphere seemed to ignite. I could see the glow of the round, pearlized surface revealing the swirling colors of a hidden interior. Violet churned into somber greens, then burst into vibrant yellows, which deepened into oranges and reds. In that second, I understood.
I wasn't a Keeper, or a Caster, or a Seer.
I wasn't like Marian or my mother. It wasn't for me to keep the lore and the history or protect the books and the secrets that made up so much of the Caster world. I wasn't like Liv, charting the uncharted, measuring the immeasurable. I wasn't Amma. It wasn't for me to see what no one else could or to communicate with the Greats. More than anything, I was nothing like Lena. I couldn't eclipse the moon, bring down the skies, or kick up the earth. I could never convince anyone to jump off a bridge, like Ridley could. And I was nothing like Macon.
In the back of my mind, I had been searching for how I fit into the story, my story with Lena. Hoping I could fit into it at all.
But my story had found its way to me through all of them. Now, at the end of what seemed like a lifetime in the darkness and confusion of the Tunnels, I knew what to do. I knew my part.
Marian was right. I was the Wayward. It was my job to find what was lost.
Who was lost.
I rolled the Arclight to my fingertips and released it. The stone hung in the air.
"What the --" Link staggered closer.
I pulled the folded yellowed page out of my back pocket. The one I had ripped from my mother's journal and carried all this way, without a reason. Or so I thought.
The Arclight cast a silver light around the cave as it hovered. I stepped closer to it and held up the paper so I could speak the Cast from the page of my mother's journal, even though it was in Latin. I pronounced the words carefully.
"In Luce Caecae Caligines sunt,
Et in Caliginibus, Lux.
In Arcu imperium est,
Et in imperio, Nox."
"Of course," Liv whispered, moving closer to the light. "The Cast. Ob Lucem Libertas. Freedom in Light." Liv looked at me. "Finish it."
I turned the paper over. There was nothing on the other side.
"That's all there is."
Liv's eyes widened. "You can't leave it undone. It's incredibly dangerous. The power of an Arclight, let alone a Ravenwood Arclight, it could kill us. It could kill ..."
"You have to do it."
"I can't, Ethan. You know I can't."
"Liv. Lena's going to die -- you, me, Link, Ridley -- we all are. We've come as far as Mortals can go. We can't do the rest alone." I put my hand on her shoulder.
"Ethan." She whispered my name, just my name, but I heard the words she couldn't say almost as clearly as I heard Lena's voice when we Kelted. Liv and I had a connection all our own. It wasn't magic. It was something very human, and very real. Liv might not like what had unfolded between us, but she understood it. She understood me, and a part of me believed she always would. I wished things could have been different, that Liv could have everything she wanted at the end of all this. The things that had nothing to do with lost stars and Caster skies. But Liv wasn't where my road was taking me. She was part of the path itself.
She looked past me to the Arclight, still glowing in front of us. Her silhouette was framed in light so bright it looked like she was standing in front of the sun. She reached for the Arclight, and I remembered my dream, the dream of Lena reaching out to me from the darkness.
Two girls who were as different as the sun and the moon. Without one, I could never have found my way back to the other.
In Light there is Dark, and in Dark there is Light.
Liv touched the Arclight with a single finger and began to speak.
"In Illo qui Vinctus est,
Libertas Patefacietur.
Spirate denuo, Caligines.
E Luce exi."
She was crying, watching the ball of light as tears streaked down the sides of her face. She forced out every word, as if they were being etched into her, but she didn't stop.
"In the One who is Bound
Freedom will be Found.
Live again, Darkness,
Come out of the Light."
Liv's voice faltered. She closed her eyes and spoke the final words slowly into the night between us.
"Come out. Come --"
The words broke off. She held her hand out to me, and I took it. Link limped over to us, and Ridley clutched his arm on the other side. Liv's entire body was shaking. With every word, she was falling farther from her sacred duty and her dream. She had taken a side. She had Cast herself into the story that was only hers to Keep. When this was over, if we survived, Liv would no longer be a Keeper-in-Training. Her sacrifice was her gift, the one thing that gave her life meaning.
I couldn't imagine how that would feel.
We became four voices. There was no turning back.
"E Luce exi! Come out of the Light!"
The blast was so cataclysmic, the rock beneath my feet shot into the wall behind me. All four of us were thrown to the ground. I could taste the wet sand and the saltwater in my mouth, but I knew. My mom had tried to tell me, but I hadn't been able to hear.
In the cave, framed by rock and moss and sea and sand, was a being made of nothing more than a mist of shadow and light. At first, I could see the rocks behind it, as if it was an apparition. The water washed through it, and it didn't touch the ground.
Then the light stretched into a shape, the shape into a form, the form into a man. His hands became hands, his body became a body, and his face, a face.
Macon's face.
I heard my mother's words. He's with you now.
Macon opened his eyes and looked at me. Only you can redeem him.
He was dressed in the burnt clothes from the night he died. Only something was different.
His eyes were green.
Caster green.
"It's good to see you, Mr. Wate."
Flesh and Blood
Macon!"
It was all I could do not to fling my arms around him. He, on the other hand, looked at me calmly, brushing off some of the burnt grit from his dinner jacket. His eyes were unsettling. I was used to the glassy black eyes of Macon Ravenwood the Incubus, the eyes that regarded you with nothing but your own reflection. Now he was standing in front of me, as green-eyed as any Light Caster. Ridley stared, but didn't utter a sound. It wasn't often you saw Ridley speechless.
"Much obliged, Mr. Wate. Much obliged." Macon rolled his neck back and forth, uncoiling his arms, as if he was waking up from a long nap.
I bent down and picked up the Arclight, lying in the sandy dirt. "I was right. You were in the Arclight all along." I thought about how many times I'd held it in my hand and relied on it to guide me. How familiar the warmth of the stone had felt.
Link was having trouble coming to grips with the idea that Macon was alive, too. Without thinking, he reached out to touch him. Macon's hand flew up and grabbed Link's arm. Link flinched. "So sorry, Mr. Lincoln. I'm afraid my reflexes are a bit -- reflexive. I haven't gotten out much lately."
Link rubbed his arm. "You didn't have to do that, Mr. Ravenwood. I just wanted, you know, I thought you were --"