Chaz Fallinger's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

The locket was hers again, but it told her nothing. Chaz sat on a low wall and tilted the crest toward the moon. Faded lines curled across its surface. They meant something once. She traced them with a claw and understood none of it. Without the words, the crest was just a shiny disk. She needed someone who could read the old marks. Her pet coiled at her feet, its bright pink legs tapping the stone. A passing fruit-seller had mentioned a strange old man who lived by the water and shouted about the sky. Chaz found him near a four-story hotel, its tall windows glowing over the shore. An old winged man stood on the dock, gray beard to his chest, robe stitched with faded gold. He was tacking a scrap of paper to a post. "Read this," she said, holding out the crest. He did not look up. "I warn people. I don't do tricks." Then his eyes caught the metal, and he went still. "Where did you get that." "It's mine. My blood." He took it in both hands. His fingers shook. "Zephyrus Stormwarden. Once an Elder. They exiled me for saying the truth." He turned the crest to the light. "This is the old royal mark. The line that held the throne." Chaz's heart pounded. "What do the words say? How do I claim it?" His face hardened. "You don't understand what you're asking for. The gates are failing. One by one. I read the buried reports myself. A woman I knew crossed each week to tend her mother. Soon she won't. Soon no one will." "I only need the words," Chaz said. "Then hear them." He tapped the faded lines. "This says the throne answers to blood. But blood alone won't open it. The crest names a proving. You must reach the last gate before it closes and press this mark to its lock. That is how the old rulers claimed the sky. There is no other door left." Chaz gripped the crest. "When does the last gate close?" "Soon. Days, not weeks." His eyes narrowed. "The others are already sealed. Miss this one, and the throne stays out of reach for good. And your wing." He nodded at the scar. "You won't fly high enough on that." He was right. Her wing still ached. It failed her on the short climbs. The last gate sat far above the city, past the walls, past the patrols. "Then I'll find a way up," she said. Zephyrus pressed the crest back into her palm. "You'll need more than nerve. You'll need lift." He turned back to his post and his warnings. Chaz walked into the dark with the words in her head and a clock in her chest. She knew the throne's path now. She also knew she had days to reach a gate her broken wing could not carry her to.