Chapter 13: Gathering the Elements

The rain had washed the world clean, leaving behind a deceptive tranquility as Cora and Mason began their preparations. They drove first to Raven's Cliff, the highest point overlooking Blackwood Lake, to collect the air element. The climb was steep but manageable, the ground still wet from the previous night's storm.

At the summit, Cora removed the specially prepared glass vessel from her backpack—a delicate sphere with intricate etchings her father had commissioned from a glassblower in Seattle. According to his notes, the container had to be sealed at the exact location, capturing not just air but the essence of elevation above the entity's domain.

"The indigenous people believed that height created distance from spiritual contamination," she explained as she carefully sealed the sphere. "Air from the highest point represents purity, something beyond the entity's reach."

Mason nodded, scanning the panoramic view of Blackwood Lake below. From this height, it looked almost beautiful—sunlight dancing across its surface, surrounded by dense forest and rocky outcroppings. Nothing about its placid appearance suggested the ancient malevolence dwelling beneath.

"Hard to believe something so terrible could exist in a place this peaceful," he said quietly.

"That's how it survives," Cora replied, securing the air vessel in her pack. "It hides beneath beauty. Lures people in with false security."

They made their way back down the cliff, continuing to their next destination—the northern springs that fed into Cascade River, miles away from any connection to Blackwood Lake. Here, they collected water that had never touched the entity's domain, storing it in a copper flask inscribed with symbols of containment.

The third element—sacred cedar wood—required a detour to an old-growth forest on protected tribal land. Mason had arranged access through contacts at the reservation, explaining only that they needed the wood for a purification ceremony. The tribal elder who guided them seemed to understand more than they'd shared, his weathered face solemn as he helped them harvest branches from a massive cedar tree.

"This one remembers the old times," the elder said, placing a gnarled hand on the tree's trunk. "Before settlers. Before the shadow in the water grew strong."

Cora exchanged a glance with Mason. "You know about the entity in Blackwood Lake?"

The elder nodded, his dark eyes reflecting ancient knowledge. "Our people have always known. We sealed it once, generations ago, but the binding weakens over time. Needs renewal." He studied Cora's face with uncomfortable intensity. "You carry the blood that can bind it again. Twin blood. Powerful connection."

"How did you know about my sister?" Cora asked, startled by the man's insight.

"The shadow speaks to some of us in dreams. Not like it speaks to you, but enough to know its hunger." He selected a final branch, adding it to their collection. "The binding will work, but only if the intent is pure. Only if the sacrifice is willing."

"Sacrifice?" Mason echoed, tension evident in his voice. "The ritual requires blood, not a sacrifice."

The elder gave him a look of profound pity. "Blood given to the edge of death is sacrifice, young man. The ancients understood this. Your woman understands it too." He turned back to Cora. "You have accepted what must be done. I see it in your eyes."

Before Mason could press further, the elder moved away, gesturing for them to follow. "Come. You need earth from the entity's dwelling place. I will show you where to collect it safely."

They followed in silence, the elder's words hanging between them. Cora could feel Mason's gaze on her profile, questioning, concerned, but she kept her eyes forward. There would be time for explanations later—or perhaps not. Some truths were better left unspoken until they could no longer be avoided.

The elder led them to a secluded cove on the eastern shore of Blackwood Lake—an area Cora didn't recognize from her fragmented childhood memories.

"This place is protected," the elder explained, pointing to barely visible markings on surrounding rocks. "Our ancestors created a perimeter of wards. The shadow's influence is weakest here. You can collect the earth without drawing its attention."

Following his instructions, they gathered soil from the lakeshore, storing it in a clay container marked with symbols matching those on the surrounding rocks. Throughout the process, the lake remained unnaturally still, its surface a perfect mirror reflecting the afternoon sky.

"It's waiting," Cora murmured, securing the earth container in her pack. "Conserving its strength for tomorrow night."

"Yes," the elder agreed. "It knows what you intend. It will resist." He turned to face them fully, gravity in every line of his ancient face. "The blood must flow freely, willingly, with full knowledge of the cost. Hesitation or deception will break the binding."

"I understand," Cora said quietly.

Mason stepped forward. "There has to be another way. My blood—"

"Would accomplish nothing," the elder interrupted gently. "You lack the connection. The twin bond is unique, irreplaceable."

"He's right," Cora added, meeting Mason's desperate gaze. "We both know it has to be me."

The elder nodded, satisfied. "Return at sunset tomorrow. I will bring others from my tribe to strengthen the perimeter. We cannot participate directly in your ritual, but we can help contain the shadow's power during the binding."

They parted ways with the elder at the trailhead, the sun beginning its descent toward the western horizon. In the Jeep, Mason was uncharacteristically silent, hands tight on the steering wheel as they drove back toward Port Blackwood.

"You knew," he said finally, voice controlled but taut with tension. "You knew all along what the ritual really required."

Cora didn't insult him with denial. "Yes."

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"Because you would have tried to stop me," she replied simply. "And because I needed you focused on the preparations, not distracted by what comes after."

"After," he repeated, the word hollow. "There might not be an after for you, Cora. The amount of blood the ritual requires—"

"Could kill me," she finished for him. "I know. My father was explicit about the risk."

Mason pulled the Jeep to the side of the road abruptly, turning to face her with anguish written across his features. "And you're just accepting that? After everything you've survived, everything you've recovered—you're willing to throw it all away?"

"It's not throwing anything away," she corrected, keeping her voice calm despite the emotion rising in her chest. "It's fulfilling a promise I made twenty years ago. A promise I forgot but am now choosing to honor."

"A promise made by a traumatized thirteen-year-old!" Mason's control finally broke, fear and frustration spilling through. "Under duress, manipulated by something that was already trying to claim you both."

"Maybe," Cora acknowledged. "But it doesn't change the fact that Mia sacrificed herself so I could escape. She's been trapped for twenty years while I've been free to live my life."

"That wasn't your fault!"

"It doesn't have to be about fault to still be my responsibility." She reached for his hand, gratified when he didn't pull away despite his anger. "Mason, this entity has been taking people for generations. If we don't stop it now, it will continue. More people will die. And whatever remains of Mia will continue suffering."

He held her gaze, conflict evident in his expression. "There has to be another way."

"If there was, my father would have found it." She squeezed his hand gently. "I'm not doing this to abandon you, or to throw away what we've rediscovered. I'm doing it because it's necessary. Because I'm the only one who can."

The silence stretched between them, charged with words unsaid and emotions too complex for simple expression. Finally, Mason brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles with a tenderness that broke her heart.

"Then we do it together," he said, voice rough with controlled emotion. "I'll be the one to close the ritual if you're too weakened by the blood loss. I'll make sure you survive it."

It wasn't what Cora wanted to hear—his acceptance of the inevitable would have been easier—but she nodded anyway. Let him believe there was a way for both of them to emerge from this intact. Let him hold onto hope for a few hours more.

Sometimes, kindness meant allowing others their illusions until reality could no longer be denied.

They returned to her childhood home as twilight descended, bringing their gathered elements inside to prepare for the final stage of the ritual. According to her father's notes, each element needed to be consecrated separately before they could be combined at the site of the binding.

Working together in the study, they prepared the components according to the detailed instructions—chanting specific invocations over the air vessel, purifying the water with reflected moonlight, arranging the cedar branches in precise patterns. Throughout the process, Cora was acutely aware of Mason watching her with a mixture of admiration and desperation—memorizing her movements, her expressions, storing them away against the possibility of loss.

Later, in the darkness of her bedroom, their lovemaking carried the weight of farewell—each touch, each kiss infused with the knowledge that this might be their final night together. Neither spoke of it directly, but the awareness hung between them like a physical presence, lending bittersweet intensity to every moment.

As Mason finally drifted to sleep beside her, Cora remained awake, watching the play of moonlight across his features. Tomorrow night, she would face the entity that had claimed her sister. Tomorrow night, she would attempt to fulfill a promise twenty years in the making.

Tomorrow night, she would discover whether keeping that promise meant breaking all the others she'd made since.