Read Waybound for Free Online

Her. And from my labors, there is one thing I know for certain.”
    Phoebe looked up at her.
    â€œThe gears do turn,” Axial Phy said. “Their purpose is unclear, yes, but there is purpose all the same. The components interlock, all integral to the whole.”
    Phoebe felt warm, flat fingers petting the tangles of her hair. “But what does that even mean?” she asked. “That doesn’t change anything. He’s dead. Because of me.”
    â€œBecause of the Everseer. Your father was taken beyond the Shroud, returned to Her Forge. You did not cause it, nor could you have ever stopped it.”
    â€œBut what…What am I supposed to do?” Phoebe pleaded.
    â€œUse the whist,” the old mehkan said, indicating the rust-colored shawl. “It is a rare thing, an ancient art nearly lost to the epochs. The whist is bestowed to mourn a fallen hero. Never has it graced one who is not Waybound, much less a human.”
    â€œI tried to pray with it like I’m supposed to,” sniffled Phoebe. “But there’s…nothing.”
    â€œYou burden yourself. Do not pray. Use the whist to find comfort, to feel fiercely the love of your father. Embrace its silence, and I promise, your pain will melt like flux into the ore.”
    Axial Phy’s face eased into a crinkly smile.
    â€œThen, Loaii, in that nothing, Her voice will guide you.”
    Phoebe gently pulled out of the embrace.
    â€œWhat is ‘Loaii’? What does it mean?” Phoebe asked.
    Beneath the veil of clinking chains, the mehkan’s eyes flickered. “There is no word in your tongue. It means…” The axial thought for a moment. “For you, the path is…illuminated. She guides you. Few have borne the title.”
    â€œLoaii,” Phoebe said softly.
    â€œLoaii,” Axial Phy repeated and bowed deeply. “Use the whist to find peace. Makina will come to you in time.” The old mehkan pivoted, her robes rustling as she withdrew from the tent.
    Phoebe closed her eyes and draped the whist over her head. The axial’s words had made Phoebe feel lighter, like she wasn’t such a fraud after all.
    But her head was still swimming with questions, especially about her mission. She didn’t understand much of the Ona’s cryptic words, and there was no one to ask—she and Micah had been sworn to secrecy. The Ona had said she would explain everything once their escort arrived, but Phoebe couldn’t wait.
    She needed Micah. They needed to figure this out.
    Phoebe stared down at her father’s spectacles. One thing the Ona said rang perfectly clear.
    His function was. To save Mehk. Now it is. Yours.

B anks of floodlights flared on as night congealed in the sky. A toxic CHAR cloud lingered over the vast blackened pit where the Citadel once stood. The area was cordoned off and accessible only to workers in protective suits. Any metal brought within its slowly expanding perimeter would decompose into poisonous slop, so all operators were equipped with specialized gear made from high-fired ceramic, reinforced glass, and wood.
    Goodwin peered out at the haze from the paltry lean-to shelter. After his unexpected meeting with President Saltern, he had returned to Mehk to face Chairman Obwilé and the four directors. First, Goodwin had learned that they were taking the Dyad Project from him, then he had been tasked with his new assignment: managing the aftermath of the Citadel—glorified janitorial work.
    â€œYou were responsible for this mess,” Obwilé had purred, taking far too much pleasure from Goodwin’s fury. “It is only fitting that you should be in charge of cleaning it up.”
    So they had shipped him out here, to this mobile command center, little more than a tent village, a handful of open-bed cargo trucks, and a closed circuit Com-Pak relay dish. Goodwin reapplied mentholated cream beneath his nostrils and adjusted his filtered