The person recoils, cursing.
Panicked, I whirl.
Mara cradles her arm against her stomach. Bloody saints, I thought Firstline had her locked up.
Something’s changed about her since the attack at Dearly Departed. Her edges are sharper, her posture straighter, and she’s not rotting away anymore. This defies everything I’ve learned about puppets, unless… the magic controlling her is also changing her appearance.
I could scream and try to alert someone, but I will be dead before anyone comes. Or I could run, but Mara is faster than me. The only remaining option will drive me to death at best, madness at worst, but at least it will be on my own terms.
I bolt to the Poisoned Stairwell. My hands are practiced now, and the notch clicks open immediately. Mara lunges for me, and I step into the darkness in the nick of time, closing the door on her. She bangs on the door with the force of a rabid animal, but it will hold. At least that’s what I tell myself.
My chest heaves, and I lean forward, steadying myself on the railing, and try to catch my breath. Saints, I wish I had traded the cuff for Scar, but all I have is the cold metal wrapped around my arm.
“Where do I go?” I ask the ghost, hoping she’s returned. She’d mentioned she would try to find out more about the sudden lockdown earlier, and she never came back.
No answer.
The door cracks behind me. Mara will break it open any moment. I leap forward, desperate, my heart thumping with terror. “Please, tell me where to go.”
Thank Death, I hear her voice again.
Straight, take three flights of stairs down, then take the long hallway to your left.
I follow like I am the epitome of piety, and she is my God. We stop in front of an entrance to another stairway.Up. Looking at the winding stairs that seem to lead to the skies, I hesitate. I know where I am.
What if she’s trying to trick me?
She’s closing in. But she won’t be able to get in here. The magic keeps puppets out.
My life teeters between certain death and a likely death. So I climb. I climb until my thighs burn, until my shins threaten to split down the middle, until I can no longer walk and have to crawl up the steps. Until I reach a landing with a single, arched, wooden, black door with four square windows. I stumble on the last step, falling flat on the ground, tears blazing in my eyes. The sinister feeling from the first night Mara attacked meby surprise clutches my neck, and for the first time since then, the acrid smell of death wafts around me. Gods, I might die tonight.
Get up, Viola.The ghost is insistent.I didn’t put myself through this for you to give up now.
What is she talking about? She’s a ghost. Nothing will happen to her. “You’re a ghost. So what if you walked through a few walls?”
I don’t hear her for a little. Then she lets out a quiet sigh.When I died, my memories were sealed to this cursed place. The moment I walked in, they all came back.
Gods, she chose to relive her horrifying death to help me. Gathering strength from her words, I push myself up, my limbs aching with every step I take toward the door. I push it open, and a gasp flows out of my lips.
Clouds roll off the highest peak of Mount Chazal, and blue-eared hawks circle some of the tall, flat trees on the top. The tallest waterfall in Draterra twinkles as the water cascades down the ridges of the mountain into the thick clouds. I was mistaken to think Sylas’s room had the most beautiful view in all of Gorhail. We’re up so high that I feel like I’m in the skies. The hawks move to the sound of the waves crashing on the cliffs in their own choreographed dance.
I sit on the bench, allowing myself to calm down. Mara can’t get to me here. I have to trust in the magic and trust in the ghost. She’s never led me astray before… but what if… My chest heaves again, and I grip the sides of the bench.
I didn’t bring you here to kill you.
It does nothing, my breaths are haphazard gulps of air, and my ears ring with paralyzing fear.
If I wanted to, you’d have already been dead in the catacombs. Remember… I can possess you at length, make you forget yourself…I drown out the rest of her words, reaching forward to the railing to prevent myself from getting sick. The stretch helps, and tension eases in my shoulders, and slowly, my heart returns to its regular pace.
When I finally calm down, my eyes narrow at the intricate railing. It’s a mesh of ravens, roses, and bones carved in a beautiful pattern in the cold metal.
You freed me from the catacombs after four centuries. It’s time you know who I am.
“What is your name?” I ask, like a fool. Ghosts can’t give their namesto whisperers. They can only confirm it. If I get it wrong, she can possess me forever, but I know she won’t.
This used to be my favorite place.
“You said you died here?”