Page 43 of Turret
Nothing.
My anxiety rose, tight and overpowering. With the tower dying, I was losing not only its protection but a good friend. Even though it had technically served as my prison, the tower and I had always been together these past three years, during which it’d been both a comfort and a constant presence even when everyone else had turned away. Now it too was leaving…and I had no idea how to stop it.
I stood from the floor and brushed my skirts off before leaving my room, taking advantage of Quinn’s rare absence outside my door to walk the corridors alone. I kept my hand on the wall in search of the tower’s magic, hoping to find a place where it lingered. But these stone walls were also cool to the touch, absent the flicker of life I often felt.
I spent an hour walking the corridors, pausing frequently to rest when I grew too tired, but each stone I searched was the same: it was just ordinary rock.
My desperation rose. “Please don’t leave me, Tower.” My earnest plea was nothing more than a whisper, too soft for the tower to hear…if it was still alive.
I paused near the hall of mirrors, my gaze riveted to the door at the end of the corridor. I hadn’t ventured here since the time it’d bombarded me with a myriad of heart-wrenching visions at once, ones too painful to relive. Yet it was here as I stood with my hand pressed against the wall that I felt the first stirrings of life.
A jolt of heat filled the stone to spread across my palm. I gasped but kept my hand in place, desperate to feel it again. “Tower? Was that you?”
It took a patient moment of waiting before I felt it again, a warm flicker of life. I beamed and faced the wall to rest both my hands against the stones.
“You’re still here.”
The feel of the tower’s magic pulsing against me brought great comfort, even as it caused my heart to ache at how weak it felt. Despite still being here, it was fading quickly, the magic all but gone as Mother gradually stole it. What would happen when the last of it slipped away?
Tears burned my eyes at the thought. “Stay with me, Tower. Please.”
The impression was faint, but I felt the tower’s assurances…as well as a sense of urgency, its desperation to help me. My brow furrowed that the tower would desire such a thing while I was still safe within its walls, sheltered from the outside world. And yet this desire was there…along with a sense of struggle, as if it was fighting to break free.
Was it also trapped?
As if sensing my silent question, the tower suddenly stirred once more. It didn’t communicate in words or even in images, its powers too weak for even that, but an impression tickled my thoughts—one to enter the room at the end of the corridor.
My breath hooked and my gaze darted to the door, the very one that led to the room of mirrors. Panic rose. “No, not there,” I pleaded. “Whatever you want to show me…I can’t face it. Please.”
The tower’s impression came again, more urgently than before, but this time it was accompanied by another feeling: a reassurance, a silent plea to trust it.
I took a wavering breath and slowly approached the door. I wasn’t entirely sure of the tower’s purpose, but if it was using some of the last of its magic to send me a message, the least I could do was listen, no matter how painful it might be.
With every step, I kept my hand against the wall. Magic pulsed against my skin, each communicating the same message:Don’t be afraid. Some of my fear eased with each assurance. Despite all the terrible things the tower had done, I still trusted it.
I paused outside the door, my hand hovering over the knob. The tower pulsed again, a silent urging for me to continue forward. With another steadying breath, I pushed the door open to step into the room of mirrors.
The surrounding walls of mirrors greeted me, and though they were currently empty, I knew they wouldn’t remain so for long. The magic filling the stones was stronger here, as if this room had been able to protect it. Feeling the tower soalivebrought great comfort, though not enough to dispel my apprehension for being back in this room.
The tower’s magic surrounded me, allowing me to feel its reassurances more strongly…along with a sense of nervousness, as if it were anxious, too. Before I could wonder at its cause, the mirror closest to me flickered to life. Fog swirled in the glass in preparation for another vision.
Unable to watch it unfold, I tried to turn away, but the power of the room was too strong, binding my gaze to the mirror…only the fog didn’t clear. The tower’s magic flared against my hand, allowing me to feel its sudden struggle, as if it were fighting against something I couldn’t see.
The fog filling the mirrors shifted, no longer a dark, murky grey, but instead a cheerful golden yellow, light which was only broken by flickers of the image the tower was trying to show me. At first it was fuzzy but it quickly cleared. I stiffened—it was a vision of Drake and his wife and the tension that riddled their marriage from their struggles to conceive. It flickered, going in and out, and each time it did I saw another vision entirely: that of Drake and Rheannahappy.
I didn’t have much time to enjoy the joy and smiles filling the couple’s expression before it vanished once more…replaced by the stress and heartache from another failed pregnancy.
The tower’s struggles escalated, causing the sad image to once more fade; the longer it fought, the longer it stayed away, replaced by a vision of beauty and light—Drake and Rheanna laughing as they climbed an apple tree in an orchard on the palace grounds in what appeared to be a race. As they neared the top, Drake deliberately slowed, allowing his wife to win; with the way her eyes glinted, she clearly knew it’d been rigged.
They settled in the blossom-laden branches and Drake nestled Rheanna close to brush a kiss along her cheek. She rested her hand on her stomach and he laid his on top of hers, and in that moment I realized she was pregnant again. Regardless of the outcome of this one, by their adoring looks and tender smiles, I had no doubt they were happy, something the earlier images the tower had shown me of their marriage had caused me to doubt.
This vision gradually faded from the mirror, and the one nearby sprang to life to reveal my older brother behaving cold and beastly, so unlike how I used to know him. But instead of flinching away I watched, waiting for the moment the vision would shift…and after another struggle it did, revealing a story different than the one I’d been led to believe. The kind, loving version of Briar filled the glass, his arms wrapped around the waist of his wife, more obviously with child, each look and touch given in the gentle manner I remembered from him.
Confusion filled me at the stark contrast. I looked around the room as images swirled within each mirror—the bad ones I was familiar with, each of which was gradually interrupted by a flicker that revealed something far more joyous, each change made after the tower raged its invisible battle.
“Why are they so different?” I asked. “Which is real?”
My questions tumbled out in a rush, and the tower tried to respond in flickers of words and images—the most vivid being of a book with several pages ripped out. It didn’t take long for me to understand its meaning.
