Page 117 of Dawn of Hope

I analyze the landmarks, trying to find patterns or something that would point me in a direction from the bird’s-eye view.

Nothing stands out.

Think, Lennox.

I pull my gaze away from the map and look out over the horizon. What did I know about the island? Not just about the geography, but the place itself.

I think back to what Edmond had told me before I left. The myth of Dawnlin is about hope. The island gives hope to those who want to help others and gives them an opportunity to do that. I had to believe and have hope to find the fountain that led me here, so maybe that is what I am missing.

I’d become so singularly focused on searching that I forgot the crucial element. Hope. I’d become almost hopeless, searching day in and day out, coming up empty-handed every time. I couldn’t help but feel discouraged.

With every setback or unsuccessful search, I went back to camp upset that another day had passed without the cure. I remained determined, but determination and hope are entirely different.

I am determined to continue, but my hope has become hardened, and the possibility of the dust running out, leaving us stranded with or without the cure, makes me feel even more hopeless.

I was hopeful when I found the fountain, and when I discovered it was the link to Dawnlin I had been searching for. My eyes flutter closed as I remember that moment, the excitement when I noticed the symbols. The chalice and the dawn, flowers, people.

Life.

I feel the rush of hope I had that night wash over me again and try to hold on to it. It feels good to remember why I am here, and not just continually fall back into the disappointment and darkness of life before, especially when bad things happen.

The island provides what you need.

My eyes snap open. Yes. The island gives us what we need. Clothes, food, weapons, shelter. Doesn’t it know that what we need is to find the cure? Dawnlin isn’t making the cure available, otherwise we wouldn’t be searching for it. But that was the other purpose of the island, wasn’t it? The magic was here to hide it, to protect it. Was the island designed to do the same?

I spin around on my knees and lay the map on the boards in front of me. My eyes fly over the landmarks and it feels like something clicks in my mind.

The mountain.

Everything surrounding it is extremely dangerous, compared to everywhere else on the island. The closer you get to it, the more risk there is of death. The reptile monsters, the sirens, the exploding rock, the sheer cliffs that fall into the churning ocean below. Dane even said that almost every Voyager that died on Dawnlin had met their fate near the mountain.

The real question is, why would the island be so dangerous that it became deadly, if the entire reason for us being here was to find the cure it was protecting?

It doesn’t make sense.

There has to be more, and the only way to find out would be to find the cure. Which means only one thing.

I am going back to the mountain.

CHAPTER FORTY-FIVE

Iquickly fold the map and shove it back into my shirt before barreling down the walkway to the armory. I pull the doors open and grab a new dagger and sheath, sliding it in the back of my pants to replace the one he stole from me. I pull a smaller knife and stick it in my boot. It’s probably best to travel light, because I don’t really know what searching the mountain will entail.

I close the doors and look around the clearing again. There’s always supposed to be one of us at camp, in case the Castaways decide to attack, so I know I am not supposed to leave, but no one would know as long as I make it back in time. It is still early morning so I have time.

Plus, Weston had assured me I didn’t need protection. While I don’t believe him, if he doesn’t intend to hurt me, then maybe they have no intention of coming into our camp like we fear.

It’s worth the risk if I can find the cure today. I sprint to the platform, flinging the switch to drop to the ground as quickly as possible, and sprint straight through the portal.

I fly down the pathways, not bothering to pause and worry about any dangers the island might throw at me. I hold on to that swell of hope in my chest, hope and excitement at the possibility of being right.

Each time I searched near the mountain, I always approached from the same side. I don’t want to do that this time. I need a different angle, a new perspective. I turn off the main path and head toward the bridge from my first day of searching. My gut tells me to start from there.

My heart pounds in my ears as I approach the bridge. Mara isn’t here to rescue me if the bridge fails again, but I can’t let that stop me. I stop at the entrance, focusing only on the land on the other side.

Movement from below catches the corner of my eye.

Don’t look.