Rothe's Arc

Chapter 6 of 11

The stranger came to the cottage the next morning without knocking. Miri opened the door before he reached it, and Rothe saw her posture shift — not afraid, but ready. The man carried his journal under one arm and something else wrapped in cloth. He looked past Miri to where Rothe stood near the hearth, his wisps barely visible in the daylight. "I need to show you something," the stranger said. "Both of you." He placed the journal on the table and opened it to a page Rothe had not seen before. Two figures stood in the sketch — one was Rothe himself, unmistakable in his blue and gold wisps. The other was taller, more defined, shaped like a woman with flowing hair made of light. Beneath the drawing, cramped text filled the margin in the dead language, but one phrase had been translated: "She has been watching since the beginning." The stranger unwrapped the cloth to reveal a delicate locket. Inside was a lock of dark hair and a tiny folded paper covered in writing. "I found this near the old stone monument three years ago," he said. "Before you came back across the bridge. Before your father's ritual. She was already here." Rothe felt the flames in the hearth surge without his command. His mother. The woman who had ruled beside him when he judged the souls of the dead. She had crossed the bridge before he did, and she had been watching Miri all this time. The stranger turned the page to reveal another sketch — a crown of blue and gold flowers woven from light, resting on empty air. "She left this mark at the monument yesterday," he said. "I think she wants to meet her." Miri picked up the locket and studied the writing inside. Her face was calm, but Rothe saw her fingers tighten around the metal. "Then we go to the monument," she said. "If she's been watching me that long, she can tell me why." Rothe moved to block the door, his form solidifying enough to displace the air between them. He could not let Miri walk into his mother's presence without knowing what she would offer — the crown, the throne, the power to rule over the dead and dying as a kind monarch beside her son. But Miri looked at him and shook her head. "I need to know what she wants," she said. "And you need to face her." Rothe stepped aside. He had crossed the bridge to protect Miri, but he could not protect her from choices she had already made. They would go to the monument together, and he would learn whether his mother had come to reclaim him or to bind Miri to the world he had abandoned.