Page 147 of Flame and Sparrow

At the bottom of the hill, the ground gave way to a stone pavilion with several engraved lines and patterns running through it. My footfalls echoed as I walked over it, as did any noise I made above a whisper; the air seemed closer and heavier here, as though I’d descended into a cave. I could still see the world beyond the pavilion, and even make out Zell’s pacing golden figure at the top of the hill, but I felt a thousand miles removed from everything aside from the tower and its immediate energies.

There were three large but relatively plain doors along the tower’s face. Beside each one stood a pedestal with strange markings. Each of the pedestals had a wide, deep iron bowl in its center—meant for offerings, it seemed like.

“Three doors and three offerings…” I thought aloud. “One for each court?”

That would make sense, I decided, but there were no labels to tell me which was which. What would happen if I placed the wrong relic into the wrong pedestal?

Maybe nothing at all—but this was essentially part of a divine trial, so I expected tricks and consequences.

As I turned in a circle, studying my surroundings more closely, I recalled the map Dravyn had drawn in the dirt for me. Similar to what I’d seen on that map, three lines ran away from the doors and converged toward a point at the edge of the pavilion, dividing the space into three distinct areas. I remembered the order of the territories from left to right—Sun, Stone, then Shade.

So it made sense to place things in that order, didn’t it?

“Crown, sword, then open the door…” I recited to myself as I pulled the crown from my bag.

I left the bag, my sword, and everything else behind, and I clutched the crown with both hands and slowly approached the first pedestal. It trembled slightly in my hold, swirls of deep blue overtaking its tarnished silver surface.

The closer I came to placing it in the offering bowl, the darker the energy upon the crown became—though there were also pinpricks of silver interrupting the darkness, like stars winking into existence. By the time I reached the door, it fully resembled the night sky my trial had taken place within, as if the Star Goddess’s magic was being drawn out more fully by whatever magic laced the offering bowl.

I hesitated only a moment before dropping the crown into place and taking several quick steps backward.

As I backed away, the iron bowl trembled and took on the same pattern as the crown—a pattern that quickly spread to the frame around the first doorway.

I held my breath as the door itself lit up with a pale, shimmering glow.

Nothing else rattled.

Nothing broke.

Nothing came crashing down even after at least a full minute passed.

Encouraged by this initial success, I moved faster with the second object, carrying Hydrus to the middle door. Like the crown, the blade’s glow changed as I drew closer to the iron receptacle I intended to put it in, shifting into swirls of blue and white that reminded me of crashing waves. And again, the iron bowl took on the same colors and energies of its offering—an energy that soon surrounded the middle door and set it aglow.

Once more I held my breath. Watching. Waiting for some sign that I’d made a mistake.

None came.

The tower remained perfectly intact. The air around me seemed to be thinning, too, growing less oppressive.

Only one door remained.

I had nothing to place in the offering bowl beside it—but I did have the mark on my wrist. A mark that Dravyn had given me so I could walk into this realm, he’d said…was it enough to allow me to walk into this tower, too?

Would he be able to tell I’d accessed that magic?

I hadn’t considered this last point before now. But the mark seemed to connect us, even across realms, in a way I still didn’t fully understand. He’d felt my fear through it when I went back to the mortal realm weeks ago…so there was a chance he could feel it now, too.

Another reason I needed to hurry and finish this task before he returned from whatever business he was tending to.

The mark shivered as I drew closer to the door, the sensation growing more violent and unnerving with every step I took, but I pressed onward.

Though the bowl beside the door appeared empty, when I swiped my hand into it, it felt as if I was threading my fingers through thick plumes of smoke. The thickness seemed to cling to my hand, making it feel much heavier, as the mark on my wrist fully ignited.

The mark burned brighter and brighter, taking on the same hellish glow as the marks that sometimes appeared on Dravyn’s skin whenever he accessed the deeper reserves of his power.

I kept my hand in the receptacle until the iron shifted colors as the other bowls had.

My breath left me in a nervous gasp as the final door took on the same color and then swung open, sending a blast of cold, damp air rushingover me.

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