The moment we reached it, her wings gave out, and we fell, hitting the stone hard. I sucked in a painful breath and rolled over, glad that Selene had landed to the side of me rather than on top.

Selene pushed herself up with the help of her wings. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. But that landing needs work,” I said getting to my feet.

She giggled, but my own humor—more of a statement of relief—vanished as I caught sight of the stone plinth set dead center of the tower.

My heart slammed against my breastbone as I stared at it. It looked exactly like the dream, and yet nothing like it at all. There were no letters engraved on its side, and out of its top rose the hilt of The Will sword, its blade buried a foot deep in the stone of the plinth.

B E L L A N A

B E L L A N A

B E L L A N A

The name sounded over and over inside my head, but it was wrong, incomplete.

Even still, the same pull I felt toward the plinth in my dreams came over me now. Only I realized it had never been the plinth calling to me at all. It had been the sword. Always.

I walked toward it, each step heavy and hard as if some unseen force wanted to keep me from it. But it wouldn’t work. That sword was meant for me, and I for it. I knew it as surely as I knew my own name, my own mind.

I stopped in front of it and placed both hands on the bone hilt.

Say my name, a voice that did not belong to my psyche spoke in my mind.

I don’t know it.

Say my name.

I don’t know it.

Yes, you do. You’ve always known.

B E L L A N A

I grabbed the hilt and pulled upward as hard as I could. It wouldn’t move.

Say it!

I don’t— The thought stopped in my head, giving way to a sudden vision of the dream. I saw the stone plinth again, saw the letters engraved on its surface. All the letters. The sword itself was showing it to me straight into my mind as artfully as the most gifted psychic.

B E L L A N A X

Bellanax.

The moment I thought it, the bone hilt began to warm in my hand. Then a bright light, a mixture of purple and gold, spread down from the hilt, over the runes, and into the stone plinth itself. A second later the stone cracked down the center, and the sword came free.

I held it up, struggling with its weight. But even as I watched, that golden, purplish light enveloped the sword, shrinking it, making it lighter, until the sword was the perfect weight and size for me, an extension of my arm rather than some magical object made of steel.

Bellanax. The true name of Excalibur, the sword of power.

And now it was mine.

* * *

“Come on, Dusty.”

Selene’s voice barely registered in my mind. How long had I been standing here? It seemed a thousand years or more, as many years as the sword itself had known. It was ancient, the oldest thing I had ever touched.

Go, a voice said in my mind, and I obeyed, turning toward Selene. She eyed me with open worry, her gaze lingering on the blade. I ignored it and walked to the edge, clutching Bellanax with both hands. Selene stepped behind me and threaded her arms through mine. I couldn’t hold on to her this time. But that was all right. With the sword of power in my grasp, we would be fine.

“I should be able to glide us all the way down to the roof,” Selene said.

“Okay.” I could see Eli below us, and I pointed at him and then down. He nodded and turned to begin his descent.

No fear touched me as Selene pushed me off the edge this time. We glided down as light as feathers, and I landed easily on my feet. I didn’t hesitate but started making my way across the roof, leaping the holes effortlessly and with a grace I’d never known before. Somewhere in the far corner of my mind, I knew that I was no longer fully in control, that the sword, that Bellanax, had taken control, at least on a physical level. But that was all right. The sword was wise. The sword was powerful. It would see us through.

I was barely aware of the journey down the next set of stairs. Eli and Selene were somewhere behind me, moving much slower than I was. Soon I had reached the ruined pavilion. Then I was across it and running at full speed over the lawn toward the burning pyre in the distance. With the sword in my hand, I felt like I was flying.

But before I reached the pyre, a violent tremble shook the ground, and I stumbled. By the time I regained my footing, the first split had appeared in the earth’s surface. Screams broke out as the people standing near the pyre began to flee. The fissure was growing, spreading like a wound. The sight of it terrified me to my core, but fear didn’t touch me, not really. All thought fled my mind as instinct took over, and I sped up.

Before me, the fissure was an open, gaping mouth, spewing out flames. I didn’t slow, not even for a second. I kept running, and when I reached the edge—I jumped.

The fire enveloped me, flames licking along my skin, leaving behind a trail of pain. But only for a moment. Then something rose up around me, protecting me from the fire. Magic. Magic like I’d never known before.

Holding my eyes closed, I fell blind. Something other than gravity pulled me down. It was as if the sword in my hands was drawn to the power flooding out of the Telluric Rod like a magnet of opposite charge. Energy flooded through me, setting my entire body afire. It was coming through my hands from the sword. I needed to let go before it burned me up, but I couldn’t. I had to hold on to save those people, to save the island.

So I gripped harder, holding on even as my consciousness slipped away, even as I felt myself dying.

34

The Passing