Albus potter's Arc

Chapter 2 of 9

The card lay on his desk beside the silver relic. Come alone, it said. Bring the relic. But Albus could not stop staring at the empty windowsill. The sprite had not returned. He fed her crumbs for a month, and now she was gone. He did not know if the Warden had caged her, killed her, or simply let her go. Until he knew, he could not trust the door she had opened. So he made a test. He would not walk in blind. He picked up the relic, its silver cold under his fingers, and pressed his thumb over the etched signs. He would send one more message, and this time he would keep proof of what he sent. He copied the three symbols onto a scrap of paper. Then he waited at the window until dusk. A second sprite came, drawn to his candle like the first. Albus had no feather left to pay it. He set out crumbs and a coin instead. The creature hovered, unsure. "One task," he whispered. "Fly to the vault gate. Do not go inside. Watch for a sprite in a cage. Then come straight back." The sprite took the coin and left. Albus counted his own breaths. He did not trust the audience. He did not trust the servant in gray. He trusted only what came back to him with its own eyes. An hour passed. The candle burned low. Then wings brushed the glass. The sprite dropped onto the sill, breathing fast. It could not speak in words, but it pressed something into his palm. A single pale scale, no bigger than a seed, scattered light like a wing. Albus knew that light. It was a piece of the first sprite. She was alive. But the scale meant the Warden had taken her and kept her, and now sent proof back through his own second messenger. She had learned his trick before he played it. She was one step ahead. He closed his hand around the scale. The empty windowsill was answered at last. His messenger lived, but she lived inside the vault, in the Warden's keeping, a hostage he had handed over himself. He understood the summons now. Come alone was not a courtesy. It was a leash. The Warden held the sprite, held knowledge of the relic, and expected him to walk in with the last thing he owned. Albus wrapped the relic in cloth and slid it into his coat. He would go. He had no path left but the one she built for him. But he would not go believing he was safe. He blew out the candle and stepped into the dark toward the gate, carrying the pale scale in his fist as a reminder of exactly how much she already owned.