“We were in the Stillness. When time stops, so does the pulse of life.” He said it so casually. How many times had he entered the Stillness? “The sun and moon continue their course, but they reset once time resumes.”

“It’s a full moon, Bastiaan.” I looked at his hand, hoping for something other than the purple and silver strands fighting each other.

“I know.” His Talent Mark appeared the same. “It renews at the peak of moonrise.” He didn’t sound hopeful. But I was certain his Talent would regenerate as he said it always did. I didn’t know why it struggled during the Trials, but the fact that it wrestled against Mattias’s Bane was a good sign.

“The Well will have answers.” I could hardly breathe. I was here. On the other side of the Trials. I’d made it.

“It’s around the curve.”

For the first time since waking after Coralythe’s attack, I strode forward without gazing back. The Well was ahead and nothing—no one—could stop me from reaching it. From seeing what would happen when I finally peered into its glassy depths and drank of its water. Perhaps nothing would happen.

Then again, what if everything happened?

I didn’t wait for Bastiaan and he called out no warnings. My bare feet, stinging from poison vines and burned from sand, flew across the now-icy dirt. The pain didn’t slow me because this was the end of it—internal and external. Up, up, up along the path I ascended, noting how smooth it was.

The ravine opened into a wide circle like a courtyard and in the center rose a mound. A ring of stones encircled the top like a crown. The stones were dusty and simple. There was no sign posted or fanfare. Was that the Well? Such a grand thing couldn’t be so mundane, could it?

I swallowed hard. Now that I was here, my feet didn’t seem to want to move. To approach the Well was to finally have either an answer or silence from the water that had strong-armed my life. Every Wishtress had stood here.

They never wrote about what they’d found at the Well, but it was enough for them to record the journey. Now it was my turn.

After all I’d been through—selected to be the Wishtress, forced to surrender my wishes to my guardian’s greed—the Well had better not dare be silent.

I advanced with fierce purpose. My heart pounded with each step. When I reached the stones, I planted my palms on the cold rock and leaned over to peer into the heart of the Well—to dive in if needed.

There was no flicker of cold water. No reflection to meet me.

The Well was bone dry.

Chapter 48
Bastiaan