“Maybe the Isle of Roane sank a long time ago, like the island that made the coral reef,” Yasha suggested.

“Great,” Tadg muttered. “Then we’ll never find it.”

The four of them fell into a grim silence. Barclay imagined that they, like him, were replaying the terrible scene in Trowe. The homes reduced to nothing more than rubble. The shrieks that cut like scythes through the mist. The way Lochmordra had thrashed, destroying everything in sight…

Barclay’s thoughts screeched to a halt. Lochmordra had been frenzied and out of control, just like the Sleábeaks, the Brutopods, and the other Beasts who’d been exposed too long to the weeping tide.

“What if it’s not Lochmordra who causes the weeping tide?” Barclay asked. “What if it’s the weeping tide that’s affecting Lochmordra?”

“I don’t know,” Yasha said uncertainly. “The weeping tide is only a Trite Beast, and Lochmordra is a Legendary one.”

“No, I think Barclay could be right,” Viola said excitedly. “The weeping tide always shows first, doesn’t it? Maybe it’s not from Lochmordra’s Lore as he wakes up. Maybe it’s what is waking him up.”

“We have to tell the Guardians,” Tadg breathed.

“But what about Shazi, Hasu, and Cecily? Where are they?” Barclay asked.

“We’ll wait for them,” Viola said. “They deserve to know first. They’ve done as much research as we have.”

Which meant that for the next two hours, the four of them had nothing to do except celebrate. Yasha used his Lore to turn Barclay and Tadg’s pitiful flames into a roaring bonfire, whose light danced all across the cave. Feeling risky, they each summoned their Beasts, letting Root, Motya, and Mitzi join Toadles and stretch out their legs and wings. At some point, they even sang happy birthday.

Throughout the festivities, Barclay’s thoughts kept wandering back to the present that Viola had given him. Briefly he let himself imagine how it would feel to write to his old teacher. To tell him that he’d become a new kind of apprentice. That he and Root were now best friends. That he was on an adventure at a far corner of the world.

“What’s wrong?” Yasha asked him. “You shouldn’t look so serious on your birthday.” If Yasha thought he looked serious, Barclay’s expression must’ve truly been grave.

Barclay hesitated, unsure how to explain his feelings—or even if he wanted to. Runa had said being an Elsie would be Barclay’s strength, but Yasha might not see it that way.

Then again, Yasha had never poked fun at Barclay for being an Elsie before.

“I don’t know if I should write to my old home again,” Barclay confessed. “I doubt they want to hear from me.” Nothing said good riddance like torches and pitchforks.

“I don’t know…,” Yasha said. “If I had a home, I’d want to write to them.”