Nym's Arc

Chapter 4 of 41

The winged horse dropped through the dark toward the tower. Night had come. Nym saw the spire clearly now, its broken stone stacked in tiers against the stars. Pale flowers climbed one side. Dark thorns gripped the other. Her heart raced. She had crossed the sky to reach this place, but she still knew nothing of what waited inside. Rushing in blind could kill her. "Slow," she told the horse. "Circle it first." The horse understood. It banked wide and glided around the tower. Nym leaned low and studied the ground below. She saw no guards. No fires. No movement. The place looked long abandoned. Only the vines lived here, and the runes. The horse landed on cracked stone. The black cat leapt down at once and trotted toward the arched entry, tail high, as if it knew the way. Nym slid off and followed. Her boots crunched on loose rock. The door was old wood bound in iron. Runes ran across every stone around it, carved deep and worn smooth by time. Nym pushed the door. It did not move. She pushed harder, both hands flat, all her weight behind them. Nothing. The wood held like the whole tower stood behind it. She stepped back and looked at the runes. She had seen marks like these before, on the ring in her box. On this saddle. Her family's marks. But she could not read them. She traced one with her finger and felt only cold stone. "Open," she said. She did not know why she spoke. The door stayed sealed. The cat sat by the threshold and watched her. Nym remembered the box. Twenty-one years Margo had tried to open it. Locks and hammers and blades had failed. Only one thing had broken that seal. Her own fire. Nym raised her hand. She had used the fire once, without meaning to. Now she reached for it on purpose. Heat gathered in her palm. A small flame bloomed, blue at its heart, and lit her pale face. The horse tossed its head and backed away. She pressed her burning hand to the carved runes beside the door. The fire ran along the grooves. Line by line the marks glowed, first red, then white. The runes drank her flame. The stone shook. A deep crack split the silence. The iron bands snapped. The old door swung inward on its own, and cold air breathed out from the dark inside. The seal was broken. Whatever the runes had guarded for all her life now lay open before her. Nym lowered her hand. The flame died. She stared into the black doorway and heard nothing but her own breath. The horse would not come closer. The cat rose and slipped inside without fear. She had reached the tower. She had opened it. Now she had to walk in and learn what her family had locked away.