“Now!” shouted Jada. “We have to drop now!”

“We’re too high up,” said Pravar. “I see rocks in the water!”

“We either risk it with the rocks or fly face first into that cliff. I don’t know about you, but I like my nose the way it is.” Jada turned to see Pravar gripping the straps of his harness, his knuckles white against the backdrop of brilliant blue sky and open sea. Wind filled the untethered parasail and the teenagers lifted farther from the water, and then, as if tugged by an invisible hand, they dropped sharply. Both gasped as the straps bit into their legs, which were raw from hours of rubbing against the flat lengths of harness. 

Waves crashed against rock and reef as they approached the island. Sleek huricores flew beside them, papery wings fluttering, their telescopic eyes turned to view the unusual guests. The kids dropped again, so close Pravar could see gemfish skimming the surface. 

“It’s now or never,” Jada said. With one deft movement, Jada gripped the bar above their heads and used the slack in the line to unhook the thick metal clasp that secured the harness to her chest and legs. The harness fell away and she dangled next to Pravar. “I don’t want to do this alone.”

Forcing himself not to think, Pravar followed Jada’s lead. His hands were coated with sweat, and he almost lost his grip on the overhead bar, but together they scanned the water for a clear patch of blue.

“On three, okay?”

“Hold on. What if–” began Pravar, but Jada’s countdown didn’t pause and together they let go of the bar and plunged into the ocean.

Jada surfaced first and reached out for Pravar, but the boy’s lanky frame sped ahead in an uncontrollable tumble until he lay gasping on the white sand. 

Jada crawled out of the surf seconds later, and for an instant all she could do was silently watch the red and blue fabric of the parasail disappear into the jungle. Her thighs burned from where the salt stung the raw skin, and the heat from the island made it feel as if she would evaporate along with the water on her clothes. She looked at her hands–still covered with swirling ink from the temple ceremony earlier in the day, and she thought of her parents smiling as they watched the priestess perform the naming ritual. She recalled boarding the parasailing boat immediately after—the excursion being a name day gift—but one snapped rope had changed everything. Her mother had screamed, and her father had reached out in a desperate attempt to grab the broken line, but it had been too late.

Now, on the shore, Pravar sat next to Jada. At first, he kept his arms wrapped around his knees, but as his friend’s sobs escalated, he wrapped one arm around her shoulders and pulled her in tight. He pressed his forehead against hers, and together their tears mixed with the salt and the sand and the fear of the unknown. 

Pravar didn’t remember falling asleep, but he awoke with his face in the sand. Both moons were high above the water—one a perfect orb, the other a whisper of silver—and his chattering teeth almost drowned out the sound of his rumbling stomach. He stood and held back a moan as his sore muscles stretched. Waves continued to crash against the spurs of rock surrounding the island, and he stumbled toward the jungle. His footsteps were silent on the soft sand, and minutes later he’d amassed a pile of palms that he laid over Jada’s shivering body and piled upon himself. The wind rustled the fronds but the girl didn’t stir, apart from the occasional shudder.

What will we do? What will we eat? How will our parents find us?

But despite the gravity of each question, exhaustion flowed in with the tide and Pravar once again fell asleep. 

They walked a circuit of the island each morning. It couldn’t have been much more than an hour to start and end at their campsite, and most of the beach looked the same. But as the days piled up, Jada was drawn away from the beach and toward the jungle. She’d always been a curious kid, but the appeal was more than curiosity. It was something else. It was the voices.

She’d heard them a few days after they landed, usually in the early hours of the morning, and the murmurs blended perfectly with the lapping waves and swishing branches. Even now, she couldn’t be sure the voices were real, but time and time again she found herself standing at the edge of the jungle straining to hear the fragments of speech that flittered to her ears. 

“We should stay on the sand,” Pravar called out one morning. “What if rescuers come and we aren’t here?”

Jada turned to her friend. “What if there are people in there that could help us?”

“If there were people, we’d have met them by now.”

“But haven’t you heard…” she trailed off.

“Heard what?”

“The whispers?” She looked at him, almost unbelieving her own words.

He stared at her. “I hear the wind through the leaves.”

“No, this is something different. It’s ethereal.” Jada picked up a sun-bleached stick from the sand and began to hack away at the thick foliage. “And it’s coming from in there. Come on. It’s time to explore.” 

Pravar finished his fish reluctantly. Then he followed Jada into the darkness.

Each day, they ventured deeper into the undergrowth. And while they didn’t find any people, they discovered evidence of civilization—a blue strip of fabric caught in a bush, crushed colored glass, a broken scrying stone barely visible in the dark soil of the jungle floor.

“If this is here, that means mages were here,” said Jada as she held the scrying stone aloft. “And that means they could somehow escape.”

“Not necessarily…,” mumbled Pravar.

“What?”

“Nothing. Look,” he said as they pushed past a tangle of thorny branches, “I love the optimism, but we’ve been here for over a week. If people knew of this place it would be on a map, and I’m sure your parents and mine are combing every island around Neubell. I think it’s time we face the facts. It’s just as likely these things were brought here by some tropical storm rather than…” he stood silent. 

“What?” asked Jada. And then she peered around her friend. “Oh. Oh wow.

Before them, in a natural clearing, was a monolith of black stone. It appeared fantastically tall, but a circular entrance had been carved out. The vegetation stopped growing as it neared the base, as if the plants were scared to touch the unnaturally smooth surface.

They took a few steps closer. “It’s huge,” whispered Jada. “How did we not see this from the beach?” The pair craned their neck back to see the top. “I think it’s onyx.”

“I think it’s unnatural,” replied Pravar.

Jada peeked into the entrance. Crisp air whistled out, and her voice echoed back as she called out, 

“Hello, ello, ello, o, o, o!”

Then, without speaking, Jada crawled inside.

“Stop!” called Pravar. “What are you doing?” Jada didn’t respond. “Don’t leave me!”

“I’m not leaving you, because you’re following, right?” 

“What if we get trapped?”

“It opens up once you’re inside. And the whispers are strongest here. I can almost understand them!” 

Taking a deep breath, Pravar wiggled inside. The heat of the island fell away instantly, and after a few feet the tunnel began to open up, like the cone of a funnel. As he neared the exit, Jada offered her hand, and together they explored their new surroundings. Feathers and leaves littered the floor, and it was clear the cave went no deeper. Above their heads, a small hole in the ceiling allowed a beam of light to illuminate the walls. 

“I think… yeah. I hear it,” Pravar said as he stood.

“It’s all around us.”

“It sounds like breathing.” Pravar shuddered. “Weird.”

Jada closed her eyes and enjoyed the cool air on her skin. “I wonder how a cave like this forms?”

“I dunno,” replied Pravar, his voice hushed, “but I don’t think we’re the first to be inside.”

“What makes you say that?”

“Well, I may be a city boy, but I’ve never known animals to write.” Pravar pointed at the wall, his eyes wide. Barely legible in the dim light, lines of white glyphs covered a smooth patch of black. And it didn’t stop there. Next to the writing were diagrams, sketches of an island—their island. Each drawing was divided into a panel, like a comic. First, someone outside the cave, chipping away at the monolith until a chunk of onyx broke free. Then, an open field, a figure carefully selecting a flower in full bloom. Next came storm clouds and lightning, with a hand holding the onyx high in the sky. Finally, the sketches concluded with figures in a boat sailing away.

“What do you think it says?” asked Jada, pointing to the foreign lines.

“Maybe it’s a warning to stay out of dark caves?”

Jada playfully shouldered Pravar, then held out her hand to trace the unknown letters. Immediately, the whispers stopped and the letters began to contort and swirl beneath her fingertips. Too shocked for words, they watched the lines reform into something comprehensible. Letters. English. A poem.

Jada and Pravar read and re-read the lines of verse over and over until it became etched inside their mind: 

If ev’r you hope to leave alive

This place of desolation,

Then capture the most wond’rous spark 

Of ice and air’s creation. 

In onyx black with aster lid,

You’ll safely keep the power.

Employ it when the sun is low,

And shrieks shall mark the hour.

Then board your ship with sail aloft

And point the bow due east

Submerge the stone and the flower–

Your courage must now increase.

Lift bit by bit the flower top

And let energy run free

Then steer your craft most skillfully

Across the open sea.

Jada stayed silent, but began to pace back and forth in the small room. “It’s directions.”

“The poem?”

“It’s how we get off the island.”

“Hold on,” said Pravar. “Did you read the same thing I read? It’s talking about capturing lightning, right? That isn’t possible.”

“Neither is cave writing that translates itself.” 

“This is different. This is dangerous.”

Jade stopped pacing. “I think we need to embrace the danger if we want to get home.”

“This is more than dangerous!”

“Pravar,” Jada stopped to look into his eyes. “You’re right. What if nobody finds us? We’ve been lucky so far, but we’re alone.” She didn’t need to say anything more. 

They exited the cave and made their way back to the beach. Night was falling and Pravar carefully turned the smoldering coals in the fire pit until flames licked the ring of rock. Jada joined him and handed him a strip of dried fish.

“I can’t blindly follow a poem, Jada.”

“What else can we do?” 

Pravar gestured toward the boat. “We do it like the others probably did. We set sail and hope for the best.” 

“We’ll try it your way first,” said Jada as the flames began to die down. “But if hope isn’t enough to power us to our parents, then we go for the lightning.”

“I’m not going to try to capture–”

“I’ll do it,” blurted Jada. And with that, she turned onto her side and fell asleep.

The next day, they set about finishing their boat. Jada rigged a sail with a portion of the parachute, and Pravar filled the handmade nets with fresh coconuts. Two oars and a makeshift rudder constructed of a chunk of palm tree completed the vessel. 

“I’ve got dried fish from last week. That should be around two weeks of food, if we are careful. Neubell is a big place. We go west long enough, we should reach land. Right?” 

“Nothing to do but hope,” said Jada.

They waited until the tide had gone out and then carefully pushed the raft into the water. “It floats!” shouted Jada.

“So far so good, but we've got a long way to go.”  

“It’s a start. I’ll swim us out. Can you climb aboard?” 

Pravar hoisted himself onto the raft as Jada held the back and began to kick. It was slow going, and the waves continually hampered their efforts.

“It shouldn’t be this hard!” shouted Jada. “Can you paddle?”

Pravar grabbed an oar and plunged it into the water. Immediately, it was sucked into the churning sea. He stared at his empty hands then turned to Jada.

“Probably a rip current! I’ve never felt one this strong, but we’re far enough out now.” She hoisted herself onto the driftwood boat and grabbed the tiller. At first, the raft responded as she steered them around the rocky spears on either side. But it didn’t take long for the waves to begin rocking the boat. Water splashed over the raft, and the nets of coconuts washed over the side. “Grab them!” shouted Pravar, and Jada took her hand from the tiller to scoop up the food,  but each wave brought more chaos, and soon their dried fish washed overboard as well.

Without Jada controlling the raft, it began to spin, and they soon bumped into a rock. The bump was gentle, but it knocked the rudder loose, and the raft bobbed uncontrollably as the waves increased. 

“What do we do?” shouted Pravar, but before Jada could answer a wave rose from the ocean and landed on the edge of the raft, flipping it and sending everything into the salty water. Through a curtain of bubbles, Jada saw her friend strike a nearby rock and saw his mouth open in a yelp of pain. She swam over to him and grabbed him around the waist. They surfaced and managed a gulp of air before another wave blanketed them. Only until they reached shore did they understand the true damage the excursion had caused: their raft was destroyed, their food was gone, and Pravar’s knee had begun to balloon in a swollen lump.

“Pravar, I’m so sorry. The tiller… I was trying to grab our food and–”

“It’s not your fault,” he said through gritted teeth.

“Do you think you broke something?”

“Well, I can’t bend my leg.” He looked up at her. “Looks like we try your way.”

“No, Pravar. I don’t think that’s a good idea. Not in your condition.”

“We don’t have another choice.” He gingerly touched his leg and winced. “I’ll be lucky to move at all tomorrow, and you’re right. We’re alone. It’s only a matter of time before something worse happens. And I know you heard them too.”

Jada glanced at his friend. “The voices?”

He nodded. “They sounded…”

“Disappointed. Angry.”

He smiled despite the grim notion. “My knee looks like a puffrat, huh? This time we do it by the book. Er, by the cave. Guess we need a better boat.”

“I’ll get started on it now.”

“And I can get the fire going again.” He began to drag himself along the beach and did his best to ignore the pain radiating from his leg.  

The next day, Pravar stayed on the beach while Jada entered the jungle. He’d fashioned a crutch out of driftwood and was able to hobble along the treeline collecting coconuts, but his mind constantly wandered to his friend.

Did she find the cave? What if it disappeared? What if there were more angry voices?

But as the sun began to set, he heard cheering from within the trees. Moments later, Jada burst onto the sand. 

“Look at this beauty,” she called out as she ran to Pravar. In her hand she held a tube of black onyx. 

Pravar leaned against his crutch, stunned. “How? You didn’t have any tools!”

“It was inside the cave.” Pravar looked at her, and she shrugged. “Almost as if the island wants us to escape.”

“And the asters?”

Jada held up a few flowers she’d tucked into her shorts.

“You sure those are right?”

She chuckled. “Have you seen my mom’s garden? I know my flowers.” 

He gave a low whistle. “I guess all that’s left is to–”

“Grab that lightning,” Jada finished. And they both turned to the sky, not a cloud in sight.

The week that followed was spent working on the raft. Instead of driftwood, Jada dragged pieces of tree to the sand and secured each thick trunk with multiple lengths of vine. She caught fish and Pravar cleaned them, and they heaped coconuts into multiple nets. Then, one evening as they finished fixing a new sail to the mast, a flash caught their eye.

They turned in unison. Dark storm clouds crept toward the island. Their hearts raced in anticipation. Together, they waited until they felt the first few drops of rain hit their faces.

“Are you sure you can do this?”

Jada nodded. “I’m sure.”

“Don’t forget to clamp down after you capture it. If you let up too early–”

“I got it,” Jada replied, her lips set in a tight line of concentration. 

Around them, wind whipped the palm trees, and waves crashed against the shards of rock that littered the shoreline. Jada shielded her eyes against the grit kicked up by each gust. Pravar leaned against his crutch, his eyes as dark as the stone held in Jada’s hand, his skin tanned to a deep brown.

“Ready?” he asked.

“No.”

“Embrace the danger?”

Jada closed her eyes. “Embrace the danger,” came her reply, though there was a tremble buried beneath the layers of confidence. Pravar placed a hand on Jada’s shoulder. Moments later, a flash appeared.

“There! Good luck. Go!”

Jada sprinted forward. Her bare feet slapped against the sand. Thunder rumbled as she dodged rocks and scuttling crabs. She gripped the container with her left hand, a baton of ebony stone, and she cradled the newly-picked aster against her chest. The air crackled and smelled of salt.

Boom!

A bolt of lightning struck the beach and turned the sand to glass, but Jada continued running. She focused on her destination: a swell of dark storm clouds. She heard Pravar shouting encouragement, and then she arrived. 

She heard the palms bend and snap on the beach at her back.

Boom! Boom!

Lighting stomped the ground, but Jada ignored all instinct. Blue veins of electricity pulsed in each thunderhead. She thrust the onyx tube into the air.

Come on, come on! I can do this!

Jada felt her spine tingle. The hairs on her arm stood up and the world around her roared.

She saw the bolt before she heard it.

She stood on tiptoes. Her fingers curled around the cool stone, and she watched the lightning disappear into the container held high above her head. The tube warmed and vibrated, as if to leap from her hand into the ocean. Jada crammed the stem of the flower into the opening, covering the hole with the purple petals.

Everything stopped. 

The island fell silent. 

The sun came out.

“You did it! That was incredible! Amazing! Stupendous!” 

Jada turned to see Pravar hobbling toward her. She carefully took a step, then another, keeping her hand pressed firmly against the flower. She felt an exhilaration unlike anything she’d felt before. She’d done the impossible; she’d trapped lightning in a bottle.

“Wooohooo!” Jada hollered, letting her excitement fill their tiny island. She jogged over to Pravar who sat panting on a rock, his injured leg stuck out before him like a warped piece of wood. He waved his crutch in celebration.

Jada helped her friend to his feet, and together they walked back to their camp.

“I can’t believe it,” wheezed Pravar as he limped to the fire pit and stirred the damp coals. “Three weeks. Three weeks of eating nothing but fish and coconuts. Three weeks since we last saw our parents in Neubell.”

“But this has to be it, right? Now we can finally go home?”

Pravar shrugged. “What else is there to do? We’ve followed the instructions.”

Jada nodded. “We’ve got the lightning. We’ve got the boat. You think you can steer us past the rocks?”

“I know what to look out for now,” replied Pravar.

That night, as they slept, Jada kept the tube of onyx pressed against her belly. She didn’t want to risk even a spark escaping before the time was right. Beside her, she could hear Pravar flop and turn in the night, his hammock swinging in the breeze. Jada looked up at the stars. Tomorrow, they’d leave this place and return to their parents. That thought, that vision, of feeling her father’s hugs, her mother’s kisses, the priestess’s prayers as Jada’s name was written in the Book of Affinity, filled Jada with hope. She kept that hope next to her bottled lightning as the stars filled the sky.

After shaking Pravar awake, she loaded the raft with coconuts and fish while he tended the ropes in the vessel. They covered the smoldering coals with sand and together they pushed their boat to where the beach met the water. Jada and Pravar waited for the huricores to screech, and then the creatures began to call.

“That’s the signal,” said Pravar. “Now?”

Jada nodded, and she helped Pravar climb onto the raft. Once he was aboard, she handed over the onyx tube. Then she heaved the boat into the ocean and joined him on the vessel.

Pravar handed back the lightning and picked up a length of rope attached to the sail. The waves jostled their little boat, and the call of the huricores increased.

“Now?” called out Jada as Pravar unfurled the sail and began navigating around the rocks that jutted from the shallow waters. 

“It’s as good a time as any. Remember what the poem said, have courage!” Pravar tugged at the rope, barely avoiding a razor-sharp obstacle as the waves pushed them back toward shore.

Jada exhaled and pictured her family. She bent over the side of the raft and submerged the trapped lightning. Fish bumped against her fingers, and she felt the buzz of electricity, but she also felt something else: a pull, a current, rushing past her hands. “I think it’s time!” Jada called out.

“Then do it!” replied Pravar. “These waves are getting worse!”