The return and the spark

Chapter 10: The Leap of Faith

The flashlights were closing in, a dozen jagged teeth of light tearing through the pine needles. Elara could hear the Mayor’s voice, cold and commanding, drifting over the sound of the wind.

"The ledge is right there," Julian whispered, his breath hitching as he looked down.

Below them, the Willow River was a churning ribbon of ink, white foam snarling against the jagged rocks. The sound was a dull roar that seemed to swallow the world. At this time of year, the water was barely a degree above freezing, fed by the mountain snowmelt.

"We’ll hit the rocks," Elara said, the ledger clutched to her chest.

"No," Julian gripped her hand, his fingers icy but firm. "There’s a deep pool just past the bend. If we aim for the center of the froth, we’ll clear the shelf. On three."

"Julian—"

"One."

The first flashlight beam swept over the branch directly above their heads.

"Two."

A shout erupted behind them. "There they are!"

"Three!"

They didn't jump separately. Julian pulled her close, and they stepped into the abyss together. For a heartbeat, there was only the terrifying rush of air and the weightlessness of a falling dream. Then, the world turned into a crushing, crystalline vice.

The cold was so violent it felt like being struck by a train. The air was punched out of Elara’s lungs as she sank into the lightless depths. The current was a living thing, twisting her limbs, trying to drag her toward the jagged teeth of the riverbed.

She felt a hand catch the collar of her jacket. Julian.

He kicked upward, his strength defying the numbing weight of his boots. They broke the surface twenty yards downstream, gasping for air that felt like liquid fire. Behind them, back at the ledge, the lights of their pursuers flickered helplessly. The river was too fast; the current had already carried them into the safety of the dark.

They swept around the bend, the water finally shallowing out into a marshy bank. Julian dragged her onto the muddy shore, both of them shivering so hard their teeth clattered like castanets.

Elara checked the ledger. She’d wrapped it in her waterproof windbreaker before the jump. It was damp, but the ink was still legible.

"We... we made it," she wheezed, her skin turning a ghostly shade of blue.

Julian didn't answer. He was staring back at the mountain, his face a mask of grim satisfaction. But as he turned to help her up, his eyes widened. Far off in the distance, back toward the town, a column of orange fire was rising into the sky.

"The cottage," Elara whispered, her heart sinking. "They’re burning the evidence I left behind."