Read Online The Soul Seekers: Horizon by Alyson Noël - Free Book Online
Authors: Alyson Noël
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a reason you survived. A reason Leandro couldn’t extinguish your light, no matter how hard he tried. And it’s not for the reason you think. Seems you have a big
role to play.”
I lift my gaze to meet his, hoping he’ll choose to elaborate on what that role might be. But he just motions for me to get up and stand beside him.
“Time to read the bones.” He arcs a finger toward the scattering of skeleton bits now spread across the dirt in patterns that at first look don’t make any sense.
“Describe what you see.”
My gaze moves over them until three very distinct shapes begin to form.
I inhale a sharp breath. Swing my head between the startling array of bones and the old medicine man beside me.
It can’t be.
There’s no way.
After everything that’s happened, how could it amount to this?
Leftfoot motions toward that rising curl of smoke that once represented the glorious beast within, now transformed into the dreaded monster I’m in the midst of becoming.
“The bones never lie.” His voice is a match for the remorse that I feel. “This is one of the oldest forms of divination. And, in your case, it’s appropriate to say it
came straight from the Horse’s mouth.” He cracks a smile, offering a welcome bit of levity in a room gone heavy with dread.
Though my own expression is bereft when I say, “Now that I know, what do I do?”
“That’s always the question, isn’t it?” His gaze grows so hooded, so shadowed, it’s impossible to read. “I’m afraid my guidance ends here. The next move
is yours.”
I balk. Sure he can’t be serious. Despite the absolute finality of his expression, his word. “You’re abandoning me? Now? Just when I need you the most?”
“I’ve taught you as well as I was able. Instilled within you the necessity of rooting yourself firmly in your own truth.”
I stare at him incredulously. “And what kind of truth is that?” I motion toward the bones. “I never wanted this! Everything you taught me brought me closer to the light. And
now . . .” I rake a hand through my hair, press my fists to my eyes. Hardly able to believe the horrible turn destiny has decided to make.
“Know this.” Leftfoot rests a comforting hand on my shoulder. “It’s never enough to just accumulate knowledge and skills. It’s what a person does with what he knows
that defines who he is.”
“Every man must decide the kind of path he’ll walk.” I return my focus to the bones, reciting yet another of Leftfoot’s many lessons. “Turns out it’s not true
at all. I never wanted this path. Never asked for any of this.”
“Didn’t you?” Leftfoot moves away, all the while watching me intently. But I can’t meet his look. Can’t bear the truth in his gaze. “You made your choice that
day in the sweat lodge. And now it seems it’s taken on a life of its own.”
I clutch at my stomach, feeling sick, drunk, as though I might vomit. I stoop toward the dirt. Duck my head low until the key that swings forward, slaps at my chin, serves as a sobering reminder
that no matter how dire the prophecy, I can’t afford to give in.
Daire.
Everything I did was for her—for us—and now look.
“Only one way to vanquish the dark . . .”
I shake my head, struggle to pull myself up. My eyes finding his as I say, “Turn on the light?”
“The question is, will you? Can you? Or is it too late?”
I turn to see Chay and Cree, watching intently, their faces etched with deep lines of worry. Then I return my focus to the bone fragments before me. Shifting my focus from image to image until
the message is sealed on my brain, hardwired into my soul. And, when it’s done, it seems I know just what to do.
I raise both hands before me, like a maestro conducting a symphony, and send the bones whirling back into the fire. Only, this time, instead of exploding, they snuff out the flames.
The cave grows dark.
The temperature drops.
And without so much as a single word between us,
role to play.”
I lift my gaze to meet his, hoping he’ll choose to elaborate on what that role might be. But he just motions for me to get up and stand beside him.
“Time to read the bones.” He arcs a finger toward the scattering of skeleton bits now spread across the dirt in patterns that at first look don’t make any sense.
“Describe what you see.”
My gaze moves over them until three very distinct shapes begin to form.
I inhale a sharp breath. Swing my head between the startling array of bones and the old medicine man beside me.
It can’t be.
There’s no way.
After everything that’s happened, how could it amount to this?
Leftfoot motions toward that rising curl of smoke that once represented the glorious beast within, now transformed into the dreaded monster I’m in the midst of becoming.
“The bones never lie.” His voice is a match for the remorse that I feel. “This is one of the oldest forms of divination. And, in your case, it’s appropriate to say it
came straight from the Horse’s mouth.” He cracks a smile, offering a welcome bit of levity in a room gone heavy with dread.
Though my own expression is bereft when I say, “Now that I know, what do I do?”
“That’s always the question, isn’t it?” His gaze grows so hooded, so shadowed, it’s impossible to read. “I’m afraid my guidance ends here. The next move
is yours.”
I balk. Sure he can’t be serious. Despite the absolute finality of his expression, his word. “You’re abandoning me? Now? Just when I need you the most?”
“I’ve taught you as well as I was able. Instilled within you the necessity of rooting yourself firmly in your own truth.”
I stare at him incredulously. “And what kind of truth is that?” I motion toward the bones. “I never wanted this! Everything you taught me brought me closer to the light. And
now . . .” I rake a hand through my hair, press my fists to my eyes. Hardly able to believe the horrible turn destiny has decided to make.
“Know this.” Leftfoot rests a comforting hand on my shoulder. “It’s never enough to just accumulate knowledge and skills. It’s what a person does with what he knows
that defines who he is.”
“Every man must decide the kind of path he’ll walk.” I return my focus to the bones, reciting yet another of Leftfoot’s many lessons. “Turns out it’s not true
at all. I never wanted this path. Never asked for any of this.”
“Didn’t you?” Leftfoot moves away, all the while watching me intently. But I can’t meet his look. Can’t bear the truth in his gaze. “You made your choice that
day in the sweat lodge. And now it seems it’s taken on a life of its own.”
I clutch at my stomach, feeling sick, drunk, as though I might vomit. I stoop toward the dirt. Duck my head low until the key that swings forward, slaps at my chin, serves as a sobering reminder
that no matter how dire the prophecy, I can’t afford to give in.
Daire.
Everything I did was for her—for us—and now look.
“Only one way to vanquish the dark . . .”
I shake my head, struggle to pull myself up. My eyes finding his as I say, “Turn on the light?”
“The question is, will you? Can you? Or is it too late?”
I turn to see Chay and Cree, watching intently, their faces etched with deep lines of worry. Then I return my focus to the bone fragments before me. Shifting my focus from image to image until
the message is sealed on my brain, hardwired into my soul. And, when it’s done, it seems I know just what to do.
I raise both hands before me, like a maestro conducting a symphony, and send the bones whirling back into the fire. Only, this time, instead of exploding, they snuff out the flames.
The cave grows dark.
The temperature drops.
And without so much as a single word between us,
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