“Pity, the acoustics down here are truly unparalleled.”
“Indeed.” The other guard leads the sergeant away from the gate.
When their footsteps disappear in the distance, I quickly walk over and press down on the latch, but the gate doesn’t budge.
“Of course it’s locked,” I mutter to myself. I grip the iron bars and shake them in frustration.
Footsteps. The next shift is on its way.
I take a deep breath and try to tether myself to my surroundings, like I did in the wasteland with Ravod. But my concentration fails as the thundering of my heart gets the better of me. The guards are approaching.
“Unlock,” I mutter quickly as my hands shake, the warm feeling quickly fading. My spool of thread slips from my pocket and clatters to the ground. My voice falters. The Telling fails.
“Did you hear that?” a voice asks in the distance.
If I don’t move now, this will all be for nothing. I shiver at the thought of being thrown back into the sanitarium. Or worse. What would be the punishment for a Bard dipping her nose too many times where it doesn’t belong?
“Unlock!” Nothing.
I take a few paces away from the gate, clenching my fists and releasing.
It’s okay to take some time to breathe. Ravod’s voice is gentle and calming against the onslaught of panic.
My foot catches on the thread, and I wind it up in my hands, clutching it so tightly, my knuckles flash white. I close my eyes and clench my jaw, gripping the latch. I focus on the sting that reminds me of Kennan, the bite of her gloves against my cheek.
I pull the thread tighter and tighter, imagining the lock is in my hands instead, the metal so bent out of shape that it cannot hold on any longer.
“Unlock.” The thread snaps into my skin. I clutch my fingers, looking at the thin line of red that seeps through.
A clank of metal makes my eyes shoot up. The lock is completely mangled, like it was stretched apart. There’s a click behind the latch and the handle swings down. I rush through the gate, closing it silently behind me.
From the darkness on the other side, I see the lock revert to normal as the Telling fades. By the time the guards arrive, it’s as though I was never even there.
* * *
The wreckage of the collapsed tower makes my breath catch in my throat. My every step threatens to weaken the damaged structure.
Once I’m safely out of the guards’ line of sight, I manage to light one of the torches near the entrance, casting the area in a meager glow. Chunks of debris litter the floor, most of the ceiling is caved in, and a fine layer of dust has settled over everything that is left.
Still, seeing this for myself does nothing to quell my suspicions. Something is hiding here. It has to be.
I start gingerly combing through the rubble, trying to spot anything that looks out of the ordinary. Mostly, all I see are personal items. Keepsakes.
Certainly nothing remotely like the Book of Days. Perhaps that was a long shot to begin with.
My mind wanders as I continue my search through the sea of rubble. The Telling alone is not enough. Not when there’s so much more out there. Kennan’s words stir unease in my chest. Enough not only to wash these lands clean of the plague, but make it so it never existed. I reached for that, and perhaps I failed once, but I won’t again.
I think back to Mads and Fiona and Ma and my home in Aster. To the backbreaking work we inflicted upon one another to meet the Bards’ demands, to prove ourselves worthy.
We were the blight on this great nation. Or so we were reminded at every opportunity.
I lean haphazardly against a cracked wall. It is not only Aster that is suffering. It is all of Montane.
Is that why Cathal wants the Book of Days? To fix what has been destroyed?
It is the fabric upon which all of reality is shaped … Cathal’s voice echoes in my head.
I turn over half a chair to clear my path, thoughts churning. If all of reality is written on those pages, could it be changed? Could someone write something into reality that wasn’t there before?
Or write someone back in?
Ma’s face flashes in my mind, and sudden, unbidden tears sting the corners of my eyes.
“Stop it, Shae,” I whisper. “One thing at a time. Focus.”
Cathal only wants to keep it out of the wrong hands. Like Kennan’s. A part of me wants Cathal to show up and set my mind at ease, like he always does.
But seconds pass in the dark ruins, and I’m still alone.
I’ve reached the other side of the ruined tower, and my search has turned up nothing. Reflexively I run my hands over my cheeks, like I used to do as a child when I tried to wipe away my freckles. My shoulders slump as a bitter taste fills my mouth.
There’s nothing here.
Dejectedly, I pick my way back through the room. Having already cleared a path, the return trip is shorter. It’s a small mercy.
Sidestepping a fallen beam, light catches my eye. My head tilts as I study it.
That door wasn’t there before, was it? I rub my eyes, convinced I’m seeing things. But I would have noticed a door like this. It’s simple and wooden, almost like the front door to my house back in Aster … Nothing like the ornate, gilded passages I’ve become accustomed to at High House.
And I definitely would have noticed the pale blue light issuing from beneath it.
I step closer, running my hand over the surface of the wood. It’s solid. And it’s still there moments later, so it’s not a Telling. It’s something else entirely.
I try the doorknob, and it turns easily in my hand. Before I can heed my better judgment, I step through the open door.
* * *
The roar of the waterfall greets me.
This can’t be right. How am I in the cavern with the waterfall? It’s as impossible as the sunlight spilling through the churning water.
But here it is. Right in front of me.
I whirl around, reaching for the door, but my fingers only touch rough-hewn stone, blocking my path. The door has completely vanished.
I am so tired of feeling like I’m going mad. I close my eyes, pinching the bridge of my nose.
But what if my mind isn’t playing tricks on me? What if this is the hidden pathway to the Book of Days after all?
I regard the waterfall suspiciously before taking half a step closer.
There are limits to our gift … but beyond those limits exists possibility. Knowledge. Solutions … Power. I hear Kennan’s voice as if she were standing beside me, but when I look around, I am as alone in the cavern as I was before.
Perhaps Kennan isn’t the one speaking to me.
I center myself and keep my thoughts from tumbling over one another like the waterfall before me. Whatever power is at work here, it’s different than anything I’ve come across before.
But maybe it’s just similar enough. I remember the first time I was here—with Kennan. The way she sipped her tea as she sabotaged me with her Counter-Telling. I narrow my eyes and take a step forward. Without any distractions, I channel my focus toward the current. Using my fingers as my guide, I murmur very softly, “Part.”
A thrill of warmth rushes through me as the water obeys the Telling, splitting in the center like a curtain. But instead of the cliffside, it reveals the rest of the passage.
I try to keep from gaping as I move toward it. The cavern ends in a series of steps, leading to a replica of the shooting range. A loaded crossbow, a mirror, and a target are set up in a line, as if expecting me.