“Are you a Guardian Keeper or aren’t you?” Tadg shot back, earning him a warning look from Runa. “I just don’t get it. I’ve sailed over the Shifts a million times, even in a storm. But I’ve never seen that many Beasts attack a ship.”

Feeling rather grumpy himself, Barclay trudged ahead across the pebbly sand. It was dark except for scattered flashes of lightning. Rain continued to pelt down, and beneath Yasha’s coat, Barclay was so drenched that his socks squish-squished with every step.

Ulick, however, seemed refreshed by their close encounter with doom. He wrung out his magnificent beard, laughed, and winked at the docked Bewlah behind them, as though he and his ship had shared a great joke.

“Invigorating!” he bellowed. “A few more of those and we’ll be ready to take on Shipwreck Stretch!”

Barclay didn’t know what Shipwreck Stretch was, but the only things he felt ready for were a warm bath and a deep sleep.

“We docked on the north of the island,” Ulick told them. “It’s about a mile to town.”

“A mile?” Barclay choked.

Runa sighed. “Well, I guess we better get walking. How are you doing, Viola? You’ve been using your Lore for almost three hours, and—”

“No, I’m…” Viola panted heavily. “I’m fine. I can… do it.” She held out her hands and emitted a feeble, flickering light over the dunes.

“Here, let me,” Yasha offered. A flame erupted over his palm like a torch, and he cradled it in his arms to keep it from getting wet. Viola extinguished her light with a tired thank-you.

Slinging their satchels and backpacks over their shoulders, the group started down a stone path winding through tall grass. Barclay kept to the back, wanting to be alone with his thoughts. Even if they’d escaped the storm alive, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d failed everyone when they’d counted on him most.

When Barclay had accepted Runa’s offer to be her apprentice, he’d been thrilled. He’d finally found a place where he belonged.

But what if he never caught up to everyone else? What if he didn’t have what it took to be a Lore Keeper after all?

Barclay didn’t have a chance to dwell on that gloomy notion, however, because a new light appeared in the distance, bobbing down the trail toward them.

Whoever it was walked slowly—very slowly. As they neared, Barclay realized they were an old woman, possibly the oldest person he’d ever seen. Her fair skin was wrinkled like a raisin, and her frizzy white hair was tied loosely behind her with twine and hung down to her hips. She wore a rain jacket and, beneath it, a brown shawl that could’ve been mistaken for a fishing net.