Nettle Reed's Arc

Chapter 1 of 2

Nettle Reed waded through the green water with her knife and tablet strapped to her back. She had come to the marsh hunting one more glimpse of the god's face. Three years her sister had been sick. One true carving, one wish — that was the bargain she meant to win. She found the shrine half-drowned, its mossy columns leaning like tired shoulders. Brick walls crumbled into the stagnant pool. Above the dark doorway, someone had cut letters deep into the stone. Nettle leaned close and read: The last who carved his face did not come home. She waded around the back. A marble figure stood waist-deep in the muck, robes draped, hands still lifted as if shaping something unseen. Vines had eaten his beard. His eyes were open. Nettle touched his wrist and felt warm stone under the cold moss. She sat on a root and opened her wax tablet. The resin-sealed surface caught the dim light. She copied the warning, then sketched the stone sculptor exactly as he stood. Below it she wrote one line: He tried. Then she closed the tablet, tightened her pack, and walked deeper in.