Fated (The Soul Seekers #1)(84)
Only I have no idea how to get there.
My only other visit was the soul journey when I drank Paloma’s tea.
Knowing of only one other way I might be able to find it, I head for her house, sneak through the gate without Jennika knowing, and go straight for Kachina’s stall where I toss on a bridle and hop on her back. Smoothing my hand over her brown and white mane, I press my mouth to her ear, and say, “Take me there. Take me to the cave of my vision quest so I can consult with my ancestors.”
*
The second I get to the cave, I leap past the grainy, white border and head straight for the wall featuring my long list of ancestors with their spirit animals lined up beside them. My eyes grazing over Valentina, Esperanto, Piann, Mayra, Maria, Diego, Gabriella, all the way down to Paloma, Django, and me. Holding the pouch at my neck with one hand and shaking the rattle with the other, I call them to me—letting them know that I need their assistance—need them to show me how to make my way to the Lowerworld.
I sit beside them, back propped against the wall, legs sprawled before me. Forcing my mind to go quiet and still—shut down the restlessness that often plagues me and remain open to some kind of sign. Instantly alerted to a gentle nudge of wind that twists into the cave. Swirling and lingering before me, making sure I take notice, before breezing right past, wafting all the way to the place in back where the ceiling meets the dirt.
The wind is my element. According to Paloma that makes me a daughter of the wind—something she was very excited about. But one look at that solid wall of rock—so dense and forbidding—is enough to make my head fill with doubt.
No way will that budge.
No way will it lead to a mystical land hidden deep underneath.
It’s not like I didn’t touch it before. Last time I was here, I made the full rounds, ran my hands over every square inch in an attempt to see how big the cave was. Yet that was before I knew the full truth of how the world works. Before I learned how to focus on the unseeable, the unknown—how to coax it into my immediate field of consciousness, until it presents itself.
And it’s not long before that seemingly impenetrable stone wall wavers before me, as my buckskin pouch begins to throb like a heartbeat. A solid reminder that I need to stop seeing with my eyes. Stop running everything through my logical mind and start trusting what I know in my heart—no matter how improbable it may seem.
I duck my head low, stretch my arms before me, and sprint toward it. My palms slamming into the stone, impacting for a moment—only to break through the rock as the surface softens and fades. The wall crumbling to a finely milled dust that swirls at my feet, as the ground just beneath me gives way. Sending me falling, spiraling, tumbling down a long, steep tunnel that plunges straight into the core of the earth. My arms flailing, body somersaulting head over feet—unable to stop or slow down, unable to gain control of myself.
But unlike the last time, I don’t try to stop it. I just trust that I’ll somehow end up in the mouth of the Lowerworld.
The tunnel ends without warning—spitting me straight into a bright shaft of light where I land in a heap. Only to find Raven sitting on a nearby rock, purple eyes flashing, waiting for me.
I rise to my feet. Wipe my hands across the seat of my jeans. Keeping a careful eye on Raven as I approach him and say, “I need help. Paloma’s sick and I don’t know what to do. Will you guide me?”
My words halted by the sight of him preparing for flight. His wings lifting, spreading wide, as he thrusts himself forward, lifts from his perch, and executes a perfect wide circle over my head, before he soars with the wind, and I set off behind him. Grateful for the way he stops on occasion, allowing me a chance to catch up, before he takes flight again—leading me all the way to the beautiful clearing I know from my dreams, as well as the time I drank Paloma’s tea.
I glance all around, taking in the tall swaying trees, the way each blade of grass seems to dance at my feet. Not quite sure how to feel about his leading me here—but definitely leaning toward uneasy at best, when Raven swoops toward me, lands on my shoulder, and thrusts his beak forward, urging me to keep going, to move all the way through to the other side of the forest where I come across the same hot spring I saw in my dreams.
And just like in my dream, Dace is here too.
forty-three
I stand before him, keeping quiet and still. Hoping to observe without notice, prolong the moment before he senses my presence.
His hair is wet, slicked away from his forehead—the light filtering through the trees in a way that slings a series of shadows over his face. And when Raven lifts from my shoulder, glides to a nearby branch where he looks down upon us, the beat of his wings causes Dace to look up, not the least bit surprised to find me wandering through a mystical dimension that remains hidden to everyone else.
“From the moment I saw you, I knew you were different.” His head tilts in a way that darkens his face, as my hands curl to fists, my body braces for just about anything. The last time we were here, it didn’t end well. And there’s no way to prove this isn’t a setup—that I won’t be forced to relive the nightmare again.
“Yeah?” My voice is curt, edgier than planned. “And why’s that—what gave me away?” I focus hard on his eyes, seeing thousands of images of me glimmering back—a long, rigid line of a girl with dark flowing hair.