Meridian Whisperway's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Meridian Whisperway climbed the tower of stacked books and peered through the small looking glass at its crown. Souls were drifting again, pale shapes wandering the thorned arch of the Arc Entrance, fading before he could reach them. He had guided the first soul ever to pass through. He meant to guide every one after. He struck the gong hanging beside him. The sound rolled out across the bramble-woven arch and into the trees. One clear note, meant to be heard by anyone newly arrived. But a gong alone was not enough. Souls needed a path, not just a call. Meridian climbed down and pushed a small dark signpost into the soft ground at the tower's base. Its arrow flickered, then glowed warm gold, pointing the way. He planted another. Then another. Each sign lit when the one before it lit, a chain of soft arrows curling through the woods. The drifting shapes turned. They followed. One by one, the souls arrived at his hollow. Meridian poured rose tea and spoke plainly of the ones who had wandered too far before. He did not linger on them. He pointed instead to the purple caravan waiting beyond the trees, where a cat merchant in a hooded robe tuned a tambourine and counted small bright gems. "Whisper Thornpaw needs a hand on the road," Meridian said. "That is where your story begins." The gong rang again behind him. More souls were already coming, and now, at last, they would find their way.