Saphira's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

Zypsie could carry Saphira up. But up to what? The sky held many temples. If Saphira climbed without knowing which one issued the intruder's boot, she would walk straight into the trap she had already glimpsed. She needed the exact temple before she left the ground. "We can't just climb," Saphira told Zypsie. "The wrong door kills me. Tell me what marked the boot. The stitching. The buckle. Anything." Zypsie crouched over the scorched print on the stall base. She traced the shape in the air, careful not to touch. "The sole was cracked. Old leather. New temples don't wear cracked soles." She looked up, gold eyes bright. "This came from a dead place. A ruin." A small hiss came from the vine above Dextric's stall. A purple crystal creature slid down the leaves. It was no bigger than a cat, its scales catching the light like cut glass. It skittered to the print and sniffed. Then it chirped and darted toward the marketplace edge, toward open sky. "It smells the burn," Zypsie said. "They chase my prints. This one followed the intruder's trail here. It remembers the way back." Saphira kept her cracked eyes low. "Then it can lead us to the exact temple." Zypsie held out her soil-dark hand. The little drake climbed up her arm. "Hold to me," she said. "Don't look down." The ground fell away. Saphira felt cold air and the pull of the sky. She kept her gaze on Zypsie's scorched heels, never on the drop. The crystal creature chirped and pointed with its snout. Zypsie followed it, drifting higher, until stone rose out of the clouds. A temple stood there, broken. Its spires had cracked and fallen. Faded carvings covered the walls, worn thin by centuries. Weeds pushed through the steps. Most of its windows gaped like empty sockets. No pilgrims. No priests. A dead place, just as Zypsie said. The drake landed on the top step and went still. It stared at a single tall arch in the center of the ruin. A doorway. The wood was shut. Saphira's breath caught. She knew that door. She had seen it in the false shards planted in her sight. The closed door. The watcher behind it. "This is it," she whispered. "The trap was built here." Zypsie set her bare feet on the stone. Scorched prints bloomed under her heels. "Someone still keeps this ruin," she said. "Look. The dust on the steps is swept." Saphira looked. A clean path led from the arch to the edge, where the boot had launched downward. The temple was abandoned, but not empty. Whoever had reached into her visions lived behind that swept door. She no longer climbed blind. She had the temple. She had the door. Now she had to open it and face the watcher who had shattered her sight.