“Honey, it’s the only way.” Her voice is calm and collected, and that might be what hurts more than anything else. “You know what the punishment is for new witches who attempt dark magic.”
I nod. It’s part of our agreement with the mainland—we send them across the Passage to be tried. They inevitably miss the rushes while they are held in prison, where their magic eats them from the inside out.
It’s a death sentence.
I shake my head and start to cry, covering my face with my hands.
“This is the only way. This is what Ivy’s parents require—an alliance with the mainland. That’s what their silence is worth to them.”
“Give them time, please. You said yourself that you’d feel indebted if someone did for me what I did for Ivy. I know they’re glad she’s alive, even if they won’t say it. They’ll keep my secret.”
My mom just shakes her head. “They’re willing to swear to it with magic, but they want the wedding moved up. And I won’t settle for their word, not on this.”
“But I’m not ready.” The words are weak, barely making it out of my mouth around my tears.
“It’s only a few months’ difference. All things considered, this is an extremely lenient outcome. You’re lucky, Tana.”
“When will I get to practice magic again?”
“After the wedding. You won’t be able to practice on the mainland, so we’ll need to make sure you’re using enough magic when you’re working in the perfumery to prevent an unhealthy buildup from happening.”
I wince. I didn’t fully realize until now that magic will no longer be part of my daily life when I move to the mainland. It will no longer be what makes me rise with the sun and dread the night. I will have to bury it for my life with Landon.
My stomach rolls as nausea crawls up my throat. “I’m going to be sick,” I manage to get out before rushing to the bathroom. My father is behind me in seconds, rubbing my back and holding my hair. When I’m done, he gets me a cool washcloth to place on my forehead.
I see the worried expression on his face. I wish I could convince him that I’m okay, that this is okay with me. I wish I could squeeze his hand and tell him that I’m going to be fine, that a life with Landon is a new adventure I can’t wait to embark on, because seeing him worry this way, seeing the uncertainty in his eyes—it hurts.
Everything hurts.
And it’s in this moment, seeing my dad question the life he’s built for me, question the life I’m about to begin, that I finally admit it to myself: I’m not okay with it. It isn’t the life I want. I want the love my parents have. I want the certainty Ivy has. I want the passion Wolfe has. I want it all, and a life with Landon won’t give it to me.
Selfish.
I go lie down while my parents eat dinner. I roll Landon’s sea glass around in my fingers, feel every edge and every corner, hold it in my hands and will myself to believe that I can say the words I do without regretting them every single day for the rest of my life.
Landon deserves more than that.
And so do I.
There’s a soft knock on my door, and my father pokes his head in. “Almost time, sweetheart.”
Another rush. Another release of my magic. Another night of wrecking the sea.
I tremble as I get out of bed, change into my rushing gown, and follow my parents to the western shore. I’m terrified of giving my magic over to the sea when there’s nothing I can do to rebuild it. My skills will fade and my magic will weaken, and I will be a shadow of the girl I once was.
Landon will marry an echo, a whisper, a slight breeze at his back that makes him feel as if he’s being watched.
I walk behind my parents onto the beach and go through the motions of the rush, following my coven into the water once we’re all accounted for. I search for Ivy, but she never once looks my way. She’s on the far side of the shore, and I know she put herself there on purpose, keeping as much distance from me as possible.
The water is up to my chest. It’s a cold, clear night, and a full moon looks down on us from its perch in the sky, illuminating our shame.
It’s midnight.
I don’t think about it first. I don’t feel as if I’m making a choice, but as the rest of my coven pours their magic into the sea, I hold on to mine.
I keep it close.
And I whisper his name.
Over. And over. And over.
Minutes go by, and the last cries of the witches fade into the night. Magic rolls into the water, heavy and thick like oil, damaging instead of healing.
I stare into the distance, beg for Wolfe to appear, but he doesn’t. The witches begin their march out of the water, shoulders slumped and heads hanging, exhausted from another rush.
I slowly turn and make my way up the beach. My parents find me, and we walk toward the road, waiting for all the other witches to leave before we go. No one says anything, too ashamed to speak to one another even though we have all gone through the same thing.
Finally, it’s just the three of us. Mom leans into Dad. “Ready?” she asks.
He nods and we start the walk home.
I’m already on the street when I think I hear my name, though it could just be the wind rushing off the waves. It could be nothing at all. Still, I turn.
And there he is.
Standing in the water, bathed in moonlight, whispering my name.
I don’t think, I don’t hesitate, I don’t fear.
I run.
“Tana!” my mother calls behind me, her voice weak from the rush but urgent. Scared. “Tana!”
I don’t look back. Wolfe is no longer facing the shore; he’s getting ready to dive back into his current. He didn’t see me in time.
“Wolfe!” I scream his name as my mother screams mine, chasing after me. “Wolfe!” I scream again.
He stops and turns, his mouth falling open and his eyes growing wide.
I sprint into the water, pushing through it as fast as I can, trying to ignore the sounds of my mother behind me. I can’t turn around because if I do, I might shatter.
I push off the ocean floor and launch myself toward Wolfe. He catches me in his arms, and I wrap myself around him, holding on tight, holding on for my life.
“Go!” I shout.
My father is in the water now, swimming toward us, thrashing through the waves even though he’s weak from the rush—too weak, and yet he expends every last ounce of what he has left coming after me. He slows, unable to keep up, bobbing helplessly several yards away. I hold on to Wolfe tightly to keep myself from swimming to my father, but I watch him the whole time, and I know this image will stick with me for the rest of my life, no matter how hard I try to erase it. He shouts my name and begins to choke, the sound tearing me in two. My mother finally reaches him and pulls him toward the shore. Tears roll down my face as I tuck my head into Wolfe’s shoulder and take a deep breath. He dives into the current, and the image of my father is replaced by dark water rolling over my head, erasing all the light.
Erasing all the love.
Erasing everything.
Wolfe’s arms are wrapped tightly around me as we’re swept out to sea, but I’m not sure it’s the ocean we’re in anymore. Maybe it’s a buildup of tears and anguish so vast and wide I’ll never find my way back out.
Mom calling my name.
Dad thrashing in the water.
I will never recover from this, not if I live a hundred years, a thousand lifetimes. This moment will scar every part of me, and I will never be without it.
I squeeze my arms and legs tighter around Wolfe because I’m afraid if I don’t, I’ll give up and let the ocean do with me whatever it will. But Wolfe’s arms are secure around me, holding me together when I’m sure I’ll fall apart.
The current slows, and we surface. We both pull in air, our chests expanding into each other as we breathe. I cling to him as if he’s a life preserver, and in this moment, I’m sure that he is.
The water pulls us along. I look toward the shore, but we’re far away from the beach where the rush took place, far away from my parents. Far away from my heart.