Ava sighed, leaning against a wall that appeared to be made of fossilized paper. “So we’re basically wandering randomly, hoping to stumble across the key?”
“Notcompletelyrandomly,” Bitty assured her. “The city has patterns. Things naturally organize themselves here. Important things tend to cluster together.”
“And the key would be important.”
“Exactly!”
She thought that over for a second. “So. Change of plans. We look for important things. And old things.”
“Okay. Yes! That!” Bitty’s wings fluttered in what Ava had come to recognize as agreement. “The oldest we can find.”
They changed direction, now paying more attention to the apparent age of the structures and objects around them. Bitty proved surprisingly knowledgeable, pointing out architectural styles Ava had never heard of, identifying scripts and symbols from civilizations long forgotten.
“How do you know all this?” Ava looked up at a wall covered in carvings that Bitty claimed predated human writing.Neat.
The tiny fae’s wings drooped slightly. “When you have no magic, you find other ways to be useful. I’ve spent two hundred and sixty years studying the Web and the things in it. Not much else to do.”
There was something so matter-of-fact about her acceptance of her circumstances that Ava felt a pang of sympathy. “Well, it’s definitely useful now.”
Bitty brightened, her wings perking up. “This way. These symbols get older as we go.”
They followed a passage where the walls were lined with books so ancient their pages had fused together into solid blocks. The air grew heavy with the scent of dust and age and something else—a faint, metallic odor that reminded Ava of blood.
The passage opened onto another plaza, this one dominated by a fountain that no longer flowed. In its dry basin lay hundreds of small metallic discs that Bitty identified as coins from dozens of different worlds and eras. “People always forget their small valuables.” She hovered over the collection. “Coins, keys, tokens…”
“Keys?” Ava perked up.
“Not magical keys.” She giggled. “Just ordinary ones.”
They carried on, the city growing more condensed around them, squeezing them through narrow passages between towering structures of increasing age and strangeness. Bitty had to fold her wings against her back to navigate some of the tighter spots.
The architecture became more primal, less recognizable as anything that might have been built by human, or even fae, hands. Structures that seemed to have grown rather than been constructed. Materials that felt alive under Ava’s fingertips when she brushed against them.
And the books changed, too. No longer bound volumes of paper, but tablets of stone and metal, scrolls made of materials Ava couldn’t identify, devices that hummed with contained information.
“We’re getting into really old territory now,” Bitty whispered, her voice tense. “Before the fae courts. Before most civilizations had names.”
They emerged into a broader avenue lined with what appeared to be obelisks, though instead of being carved with hieroglyphs, they were covered in the same shifting, odd symbols Ava had noticed on some of the older books. They were jagged and sharp, made of spirals and pointed, almost a Sanskrit-like shapes. And the symbols seemed to move when she wasn’t looking directly at them, rearranging themselves into new patterns.
“What’s that?” She pointed to the symbols.
“The First Language.” Bitty’s voice was hushed with what might have been awe or fear. “The one all others came from.”
“Can you read it?”
Bitty shook her head. “No one can. Not anymore. It’s been forgotten.”
“Then how do you know what it is?”
“Because it tells you.” The tiny fae chewed her lower lip. “Even forgotten, it makes itself known.”
Ava was about to ask what that meant when she felt something—a pull, like a magnet drawing her forward. It came from Book, tucked securely in her backpack, but also from the tattoo on her arm. Both responding to something ahead. “Bitty? I…think we’re getting close.”
The tiny fae looked alarmed. “How do you know?”
Ava didn’t answer immediately. She was focused on the sensation—like a tuning fork that had been struck, vibrating at a frequency that matched something in the city ahead of them.
“I can feel it. The key. It’s resonating with…whatever this is.” She gestured vaguely to her arm, where the tattoo lay hidden beneath her sleeve.
