Jory and Cindy's Arc

Chapter 1 of 1

Jory and Cindy left their tower room at Gloomspire Manor to find sacred ground. They had spied on the old hag Grizzelde for days. She mumbled while she worked, and one word stuck: the graveyard held ground that was holy. The twins needed such ground. The legend said a forbidden magic woke only when both of them stood on it together. Jory wanted to see it. Cindy wanted to believe in it. They climbed down through dead gardens. A huge golden flower leaned over the path. Its broad petals shone, and its mouth yawned wide and toothy. Cindy stopped and smiled. "Look. It's beautiful." Jory grabbed her sleeve. A thick rot smell poured off the plant. Cindy's cold had stolen her nose; she smelled nothing. Jory did. "Don't," she said, and pulled her sister back hard. A vine lashed the ground where Cindy's foot had been. They ran until the flower was far behind. They reached a crooked fence and silver tombstones. Night had come. A warning sign leaned by the gate, its letters worn to scratches. Beyond it, a dirt path should have cut through the graves. Jory searched for it and found none. Shadows swallowed the markers. "The path's gone," Jory said. "It has to be here," Cindy said. Then the air turned cold. A pale shape rose between two trees. It had no body, only a long white sheet and a mouth stretched into an oval. It floated toward them, mouth widening. Cindy backed into a tombstone. Jory stood in front of her and found nothing to throw, nowhere to run. The thing filled the dark. A great white moth dropped from the sky. Its wings spread wide as a cloak, and its curling antennae caught the last light. It swept between the twins and the phantom. The ghost recoiled from the beating wings and the dust that fell like snow. It thinned, shrank, and was gone. The moth settled on a tilted gravestone. Its wings folded slow. Where the phantom had hung, Jory now saw a gap in the fence and, past it, a faint trail worn into the grass. "There," Jory said. "The path." They crossed to the gap. The moth did not follow. But as they stepped through, Jory looked back and saw a figure watching from the garden's edge. The large witch hat gave her away. Grizzelde stood still, corpse-gray hands folded, blue eyes fixed on them. "You followed my words here," Grizzelde said. Her voice was flat. "Bad place for twins." Cindy stepped closer. "Is the sacred ground real?" Grizzelde's swollen fingers twitched. "Real. And watched." She did not move to stop them. "Two were lost in the forest. Still breathing at the end." She turned away. "Walk the path. But don't stand on it together. Not yet." The twins stood at the opening, the trail clear ahead, the warning fresh in their ears.