The Hades Throne

Chapter 22 - Maps

If I ever know once thing in surety about my father, it was that he liked riddles.

I was cleaning the garage once, many days and nights ago, when I came across boxes of filled in puzzle books. There was every variety of the idea, from sudoku to crosswords and word searches. The pages were crisp and neat, a sure sign of care, but the scribed numbers and words were haphazardly drawn.

Maybe that can explain why his spirit took much joy in the game.

I, on the other hand, have taken it up as a survival tool, rather than a sport.

"Are you sure that's what the ghost said?" Isabelle asks, sounding like a poorly trained parrot.

"Look to the star, look to the land, find a map and move your hand. It's exactly what she said."

Looking at the written version of the ghost's riddle has down nothing to clear it up for me. Just as I was befuddled by the original prophecy, so too I am by the words. None of it makes sense.

I pull the drawing back along side, the one of vague symbols and lines that forms an entrancing system of art. It's supposed to lead us to something, to somewhere, to someone. But the longer I stare, the more they blend into each other.

"We could try some magic on it." Isabelle suggests, her mouth pulled to the side. "You said that you knew some."

I just thrash my head, back and forth. "Not enough. It doesn't help that we don't even know what we are looking for."

The library is quiet, almost ponderingly so. The final bell for school rang about a half hour ago, and I can hear myself think in the lack of sound. It shakes me, this odd sense of alone, despite the companion that is seated in the arm chair next to mine.

Isabelle fiddles with the laptop that she has perched on her thighs. She frowns. "So let's go over what we know again."

"Alright. We know that this," I motion to the drawing, "is a key to something. And someone went to great lengths to obtain it."

There doesn't seem much more to say, to exchange between us. We continue our wonderings in silence, each of us emersed in the aura that my high school provides.

My attention wavers, shifting to the picture framed by metal and wood. Despite the enjoyable weather, the large glass windows show that the moon hasn't yielded to warmth. Night is falling, presenting a clear picture of a darkness without scarring. The stars will be beautiful tonight.

"Stars." I mutter.

Isabelle's head pops up, her fingers pausing over top of the keyboard. "What did you say?"

"Stars." I repeat louder. Then I say it again, "Stars! That's it!" My feet are under me and I am racing back towards the front desk, manoeuvring around the cabinets and shelves.

"Adalia!" Isabelle calls from behind me. "Adalia, where are you going?"

I make it to the front desk, where our librarian is putting books away on a cart. He looks around his glasses to peer at me. "Can I help you?"

"Yeah. Well, I'm hoping so. Do you have a constellation map?" Isabelle's panting breath rings to her arrival, but I keep my eyes following the elderly man.

He frowns, but the tilt is shallow. The librarian takes his place on a chair, rolling over to the computer. "I can't ever be sure. Haven't looked for one in a long time." His hand clicks a couple of things, and the suspense drives my nerves to their very edge. "There. We have one." He beckons with a spider hand and we follow.