Page 13 of Of Blood & Stone

It used its beak to draw a circle the size of Sylzenya’s palm. The piece of earth flashed a bright gold, the circle rising up from the soil, becoming something solid and beautiful: A gold compass, overlaid with a thin piece of glass. Inside it, there were no etchings, no directions—nothing but a thin stream of light as its needle.

A compass made by Aretta’s hands, its needle crafted from the bark of her willow, the bird said.Find the compass, and you will locate the willow, for the tree refuses to stay in one place for too long, and the needle will always point towards its home.

Sylzenya’s eyes widened,Where is this compass?

It resides in the temple.As the compass points to Aretta’s Willow, so it rests within the form of another.

It resides in a willow?

The bird nodded.This is all I know, for it was hidden centuries ago by someone else’s hands.

Sylzenya frantically thought of every willow in the temple. The trees were in every room, on every corner. There were hundreds.

Whose hands?

There are many things that I cannot say, even if I wish to. But I will say this—be wary of who you trust.

Sylzenya shuddered.Who are you?

But the bird only hopped closer to her, its thin clawed feet planted in the center of the ring.

For life there is a price, and only in pain is it made whole, Sylzenya Phatris. Your choice has been made, and so your consequence is set in blood and stone.

The gold ring erupted into a harsh light. She turned away, eyes watering from the spectacle. But when its light ebbed, she looked again, its golden sheen turned crimson, slowly melting until it became blood. It seeped into the soil, the ground becoming translucent, exposing a clear piece of orodyte hidden beneath the earth. The blood filled the stone until it burned a bright gold.

Suddenly, the bird shrieked.

Sylzenya gaped as a webbing of twigs sprung from the earth. It circled the bird like a claw, crushing it. Blood dripped from the ball of twigs, the bird’s neck bent in an odd shape, its white and gray feathers poking out at strange angles.

“What is this?” Sylzenya shouted, eyes wide, “What price must I pay?”

Pain as sharp as a dagger sliced across her back as everything swirled, her vision causing her head to pound as she shouted for her goddess.

Then everything gave way to darkness.

Sylzenya.

Her name echoed through her ears like a whisper.

Sylzenya.

The voice grew louder.

“Sylzenya!”

She opened her eyes, fresh air filling her lungs as she sucked in as much of it as she could hold. Her body ached as if a tree had crushed her.

“By Aretta’s blood,” Nyla cursed. “If youeverdo that again, remind me to strangle you first.”

Sylzenya coughed while Nyla held her like a newborn babe. Despite the pain and the death of the bird, hope bloomed in Sylzenya’s chest.

“It worked, Nyla,” Sylzenya said, voice hoarse and lungs burning.

Nyla’s brows rose to her hairline. “You found the tree?”

“Not exactly.” She coughed again. “But I might be able to find it. There’s a comp?—”

Doors slammed against stone, interrupting her. Voices of all kinds echoed through the room, but one of them stood out from amongst the rest.

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