She takes my hand. Her grip is firm—final—like she has decided something for me again. I let her lead me across the main yard, toward the building that houses her office. This time, she does not take me upstairs.
She leads me down.
A door I have never touched: red wood, forbidden to all but the elders. She opens it without hesitation, and I step inside before I can think the better of it, before I can give action to the deep tug in my gut attempting to force me to back away.
Soon, the air begins to change.
What little warmth the world had above vanishes as we descend. The stone steps spiral downward to an underground system of tunnels.
The scent of iron. Damp Stone. Still water.
The tunnels stretch ahead, lined with flickering sconces that cast long shadows against the tan rock. I wonder who carved these halls, who dug through the earth to shape them, how old they are, and why they even exist.
We take the left fork, and the air grows heavier.
The passage widens into a cavern, its ceiling jagged with large amethyst crystals jutting down like fangs. Thin rivulets of liquid seep into the stone, dripping into a pool of dark water. As I stare at the water, pin-like prickles of awareness spread across my body.
Not right, not natural.My magic stirs, awakening in response.
Nora does not stop.
She leads me past the water, past the crystals, toward something…out of place. A living space?
I see a deep-red rug, circular and worn at the edges; a dilapidated stone fireplace; an old loveseat, its leather flaking like dried skin; and a low wooden table, dark and squat and thick with dust.
Still, something is wrong here; I feel it in my bones.
“Elanora…I thought we were going to get warm?” My voice is barely a whisper, my fingers tightening around hers as unease prickles up my spine.
This chamber is certainly not warm. The winter months have frozen the ground above, but here, beneath the earth, the chill feels…unnatural.
Nora’s thumb caresses the back of my hand, coaxing me to press on.
She leads me to the circular red carpet, its surface marked with strange runes, symbols I do not recognize.
This is not a place for warmth.
She sinks first, then she gently tugs my hands, guiding me to sit before her.
“I will make you warm,” she murmurs, her voice softer than I’ve ever heard. “You will never go cold again. Never go hungry. The only hunger you will know is the drive to be more, to do more, to go further than anyone else you encounter.”
“You are so rare Millie.”
Nora’s fingers glide across my cheek, tucking a loose curl behind my ear.
“I know Mama is not here and I’m so sorry.”
Her voice stirs something deep in my chest. My throat tightens. My eyes sting with tears I try not to shed.
“That mage will pay for what he did to our family. You may even be the one to make him pay one day. Who knows?”
A tear finally falls. My weakness exploited in front of my elder just as it was exploited the night the mage took everything from me.
For Mama and my sisters, I would make him pay.
“For now, we must focus on our future. You are a big part of that.”
Her tone shifts, as if this isn’t a choice but a fact.
