Aleira Brightleaf's Arc

Chapter 3 of 18

The creature crept out of the tower. Its round, cheesy body swayed on jointed legs. Aleira backed onto the hot stone, eyes fixed on the wet mouth of teeth. Somewhere inside that tower sat her ancestors' throne. To reach it, she had to get past this thing. She had one tool left. Beside her, Hazel gripped her crooked wand in both shaking hands. "Hit it," Aleira said. "But not the wall. Whatever you do, not the wall." Hazel swallowed. "I don't aim well." "I know." Aleira had seen the girl's first spark belch lava from the stone. One more wild shot into the tower could bring the whole wall down on them. But standing still would only feed the creature. "Aim at the ground in front of it. Then, if you miss, you miss low." Hazel planted her feet. The creature lunged, legs scraping, mouth wide. Hazel screamed and jabbed the wand. A spark burst out, curved wrong, and struck the dirt short of the beast. Steam and grit exploded upward. The blast wasn't magic aimed true. It was Hazel's usual mess. But the mess worked. The cloud of hot dust filled the creature's eyes. It reared back, legs flailing, and slammed into the tower's open mouth. The wall groaned. Cracks spread up the dark stone. Aleira grabbed Hazel's robe and yanked her clear as a slab of rock crashed down. It fell on the creature's back legs and pinned them fast. The beast thrashed and shrieked, stuck half in and half out of the wall. "Run," Aleira said. They scrambled around the pinned creature, hugging the far edge of the opening. Its teeth snapped a hand's width from Aleira's arm. Then they were past it, inside the tower, gasping in the greasy dark. Light glowed ahead. Not lava. Something carved and old. Aleira stepped toward it and stopped. A high stone chair stood on a low platform. Vines of dull gold wrapped its arms. Her ancestors' throne. She had crossed the burning wastes for this, and here it waited, an arm's reach away. But she was not alone. A small figure crouched behind the throne, clutching a staff topped with a green-lit skull. Black hair hid a pale, frightened face. She flinched when Aleira's eyes found her. "Don't," the figure whispered. "Please. It's mine. I found it first. I've been hiding here for days." Her hands shook on the staff. "That thing at the door won't stay pinned. It never does. And there are more of my kind coming." Aleira looked from the trembling stranger to the throne between them. She had beaten the creature. She had reached the seat of her line. But someone had claimed it before her, and the pinned beast at her back already tore at the fallen stone. "Who are you?" Aleira asked. "Morwenna," the figure said. "And you shouldn't have come."