Keith Sterling's Arc

Chapter 5 of 8

Keith walked deeper into the vault. The signet thread pulled him along the black corridor. It ended at a wall of smooth stone. He pressed the ring against it. The wall dissolved into cold air. He stepped through and stumbled into daylight. Roses climbed a stone arch behind him. He knew this place. The sanctuary of climbing roses, where the oracle waited. The vault had spat him out at her door. Inside, Lysandra Moonsight sat with her staff across her knees. Her white eyes found him though she could not see. She was the blind oracle who had set him on this road and revived his ring once before. "You have all three," she said. It was not a question. "I have them." Keith spilled the rings onto the floor between them. "But I don't know the rite. How do I use them? The trace is fading. I can feel it going." Lysandra reached out. Her fingers brushed each ring, then the signet on his chest. "Time is short," she said. "The rite is simple and cruel. You must stack the three rings on the altar and lock your own around them. Then you crush the crimson petals over all four. But the petals need grief again. Real grief. The spell reads your heart." Keith's hands went cold. "I gave the vault my shame. I gave it the truth I hid. I don't know what's left in me to grieve." "Then find it," she said. "Or the trace dies tonight." She pointed him to the altar beneath the roses. Keith set the three rings down. He slid the signet from his chest and dropped it over them. It sat like a crown on the stack. He took the bloodrose petals from his pouch. His hand shook. He closed his eyes and reached for the grief. He thought of all the nights alone. He thought of the woman whose face he had never seen, whose name a spell still hid. He had come this far and still did not know her. The ache rose up hot and sharp. Keith crushed the petals over the rings. Red light burst from the altar. The four rings glowed and spun. A sound rang out, high and clear. Then the light broke and scattered. The rings fell still. Keith leaned close, breath held. Nothing new. No name. No voice. "It didn't work," he said. "Why didn't it work?" Lysandra's face went grave. She touched the signet. "The rite began. But the spell fought back. It pushed the name out of the rings and into you. It hides in your own memory now." She drew her hand away. "The name you seek is buried inside your head. And it locked the door as it went." Keith pressed his palm to his temple. Somewhere behind his own eyes, the name waited, sealed. The rings had done their work. Now the last wall was himself.