Cyndi Cylendar's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Cyndi Cylendar bolted the iron door behind her and listened for footsteps on the stair. None came. She let out a breath and turned back to the room she had built in secret under the black towers, a hollow carved into rock her sister Bella could not see from the crystal palace. Bella ruled the enchanted realms and had told the whole court that no sister would follow her on the throne. Cyndi meant to prove her wrong. She crossed to the ritual table at the center of the room. Four spell books sat stacked at one corner, their leather split, their clasps stained. She opened the top one to a page she had marked with a strip of black cloth. The spell asked for a spoken name and a drop of blood. She pricked her thumb on the clasp and spoke the words. The candle on the table bent sideways, then straightened. Nothing else moved. Weeks of work, and she still could not lift a stone across the room. She knew why. Her sorcery was not ready. If she moved on Bella now, the court would catch her before the spell finished, and treason meant the block. She needed more nights here, more pages, more blood. She needed the fortress to stay hidden. A soft knock hit the outer door. Cyndi froze. The knock came again, patient, three taps. "Cindy. It's me." Heather. Cyndi shut the book and pushed the stack behind the table. She crossed the room, unbolted the door, and opened it a hand's width. Her younger sister stood on the stone step in a pale dress, pink hair loose, blue eyes tired. Heather looked past Cyndi's shoulder at the candle, the table, the books. "You shouldn't be here," Cyndi said. "I followed you last night too," Heather said. "I saw the door. I didn't tell Bella." "Why not?" "Because once I tell her, I can't untell her." Heather folded her arms. "I came to ask you to stop. Burn the books. Come home." Cyndi thought about the spell that had failed, the weeks she still needed, the sister on the throne who had shut the door on her. She thought about what Heather could say at breakfast tomorrow and what would happen by dusk. She stepped back and opened the door wider. "Come in," Cyndi said. "Let me show you what I'm doing. Then decide." Heather hesitated on the step. Cyndi kept her hand on the door and her face soft. She had one page in the second book that did not need strength, only trust and a shared cup. It would hold Heather's tongue for a season. Long enough. Heather stepped inside. Cyndi bolted the door behind her and reached for the kettle on the shelf.