Fated

granddaughter—as a Seeker—there must be something I can do.
    Something more than sitting idly in this room, being babysat by a video monitor.
    I sling my bag over my shoulder and bolt for the door. My classmates staring in shock, as the strict surveillance of the all-seeing camera tracks my escape. Making my way down the series of halls, I burst through the double doors and blaze past the guard, trying to come up with some kind of plan.
    While I may not know how to stop the Richters from invading the Lowerworld, I’m still a day away from their being able to do so. And since that’s the place where Raven lives, and since it’s his job to guide me, I figure it’s as good a place to start as any.
    Only I have no idea how to get there.
    My only other visit was the soul journey when I drank Paloma’s tea.
    Knowing of only one other way I might be able to find it, I head for her house, sneak through the gate without Jennika knowing, and go straight for Kachina’s stall where I toss on a bridle and hop on her back. Smoothing my hand over her brown and white mane, I press my mouth to her ear, and say, “Take me there. Take me to the cave of my vision quest so I can consult with my ancestors.”
    *   *   *
    The second I get to the cave, I leap past the grainy, white border and head straight for the wall featuring my long list of ancestors with their spirit animals lined up beside them. My eyes grazing over Valentina, Esperanto, Piann, Mayra, Maria, Diego, Gabriella, all the way down to Paloma, Django, and me. Holding the pouch at my neck with one hand and shaking the rattle with the other, I call them to me—letting them know that I need their assistance—need them to show me how to make my way to the Lowerworld.
    I sit beside them, back propped against the wall, legs sprawled before me. Forcing my mind to go quiet and still—shut down the restlessness that often plagues me and remain open to some kind of sign. Instantly alerted to a gentle nudge of wind that twists into the cave. Swirling and lingering before me, making sure I take notice, before breezing right past, wafting all the way to the place in back where the ceiling meets the dirt.
    The wind is my element. According to Paloma that makes me a daughter of the wind—something she was very excited about. But one look at that solid wall of rock—so dense and forbidding—is enough to make my head fill with doubt.
    No way will that budge.
    No way will it lead to a mystical land hidden deep underneath.
    It’s not like I didn’t touch it before. Last time I was here, I made the full rounds, ran my hands over every square inch in an attempt to see how big the cave was. Yet that was before I knew the full truth of how the world works. Before I learned how to focus on the unseeable, the unknown—how to coax it into my immediate field of consciousness, until it presents itself.
    And it’s not long before that seemingly impenetrable stone wall wavers before me, as my buckskin pouch begins to throb like a heartbeat. A solid reminder that I need to stop seeing with my eyes. Stop running everything through my logical mind and start trusting what I know in my heart—no matter how improbable it may seem.
    I duck my head low, stretch my arms before me, and sprint toward it. My palms slamming into the stone, impacting for a moment—only to break through the rock as the surface softens and fades. The wall crumbling to a finely milled dust that swirls at my feet, as the ground just beneath me gives way. Sending me falling, spiraling, tumbling down a long, steep tunnel that plunges straight into the core of the earth. My arms flailing, body somersaulting head over feet—unable to stop or slow down, unable to gain control of myself.
    But unlike the last time, I don’t try to stop it. I just trust that I’ll somehow end up in the mouth of the Lowerworld.
    The tunnel ends without warning—spitting me straight into a bright shaft of light where I land in a heap. Only to find Raven sitting on a nearby rock, purple eyes flashing, waiting for me.
    I rise to my feet. Wipe my hands across the seat of my jeans. Keeping a careful eye on Raven as I approach him and say, “I need help. Paloma’s sick and I don’t know what to do. Will you guide me?”
    My words halted by the sight of him preparing for flight. His wings lifting, spreading wide, as he thrusts himself forward, lifts from his perch, and executes a perfect wide circle over my head, before he soars with