“What, why you look at me, again.” Vincent looked a little confused under Zane's unwavering stare. His clear eyes flicked to Zane, then turned to me, as if silently asking for help.
By now, the euphoria of being able to go home had gradually faded, and my mind finally cleared enough to catch the point of the whole situation.
“Zane,” I asked, “you mentioned just now that the river only opens once a year during a specific time window. So… when is the next time I'll be able to cross it?”
Zane gave me a long, steady look, a trace of sympathy appearing on his face. “Elara, every year, I only go to that spot by the river on one day—to mourn my mother.”
“I only go there once a year.”
Once a year. And just days ago, he happened to be there—and saved me.
The color slowly drained from my face.
