Rothe's Arc

Chapter 9 of 11

Rothe stayed at the door long after the spirit faded into the trees. The cracked lantern lay at his feet, water seeping into the floorboards. Inside, Miri slept on, the crown still glowing faint above her hair. He understood now that guarding her alone was no longer enough. The dead would keep coming, and only the one they answered to could turn them away. He would have to wake her. He gathered what flame he still held and pressed it through the window glass. The fire bloomed across her blanket without burning it. Miri opened her eyes and sat up. She looked at him through the pane and understood without words. She lifted the broken lantern, cupped the spilled water in her palm, and stepped outside barefoot. Pale blue flowers opened where she walked. Rothe moved beside her, and together they followed the path the spirit had pointed toward. At the monument, a brazier waited that had not been there before. Black iron, carved with patterns that matched the firebird's nest. Its flames burned both gold and blue. Around it, shimmering figures had gathered, their translucent robes drifting like slow water. They turned as Miri approached. Rothe stepped to her left and raised his hand above the fire. She lifted hers above the other side. The flames climbed between them and shaped a pair of arches, then towers, then a bright hall of light standing tall above the stones. The spirits bowed their heads. One by one, they walked into the flame and were gone. Miri guided them with her voice. Rothe held the fire steady so the path would not close. When the last spirit passed through, the bright hall faded, but the brazier kept burning. Rothe looked at his hands. He had not turned the dead away. He had opened a door for them instead, standing beside her as her equal at the gate. He could not yet shield her from what walked the mortal road. But here, at this fire, he had finally found a place where his power mattered. They would rule this threshold together. The rest he would still have to learn.