The Obsidian Pillar

Chapter Fifty

My ankles screamed in pain when I landed on the bridge outside the Fold. I had ported miles across the country, and at one point, as I was churning through the world unseen, I wondered if I might not survive it. I had thought Varellna's transportation was bumpy; mine was much worse. On top of that, I was weak. The exertion of the last few days' events had drawn on me, but transporting myself to the North was enough to leave me shaking.

The bridge swung beneath my weight and the broken slats gave me a view into the murky depths below. I bolted across it as the sky grew dark. A mysterious whorl of purple light shone through the dense grey clouds above the building. It was hard to tell with the sorcerers whether a problem was serious or just another way for them to express themselves. Regardless, the place seemed eerie.

I pushed open the heavy doors and ran inside. The hall was empty and silent. Had they shielded themselves from me? I kept moving from room to room, but each one was as devoid of sorcerers as the next.

I climbed the wide staircase and pulled myself along each corridor with my hands on the cool walls. My breath was coming up short and my body was begging me to give up.

But then, at the end of the hall I saw a dim light filtering from the ceiling. A small ladder was propped up against a bleak tapestry, depicting the cull of the sorcerers in Vakaaria. My eyes brushed over it as I moved towards the ladder, looking up at the square hole that led out onto the top of the building.

I recalled that the rooftop of the Fold was curiously flat. I'd never been taken up there before, or even thought about what might be there. I climbed the ladder, my heartbeat racing as I did so, my feet getting caught in the emerald silk of my Vakaarian dress. I had completely forgotten to change.

When I pulled myself out from the hole, I stared in awe at the sorcerers gathered with their backs to me, focussed on one spot in the middle of the rooftop. There was a lack of spirit here, and dense melancholy enveloped them all as the wind tore at their hair and robes. They seemed so...broken.

I spied Wynona stood away from the crowd, leaning against the stone wall that framed the rooftop. She held the back of her hand to her mouth as she stifled a sob, her eyes crinkling and her chest heaving. I stood there watching her grieve with nothing but fear in my heart.

I rushed over to her, wrapping my arms around her neck as her head found my shoulder, tears dampening the silk of my dress as she released a whimper.

'Gods, Valla, you're alive,' she sniffed as she pulled away, wiping her red rimmed eyes impatiently.

'Where is he?' I blurted, unable to keep my panic from permeating through my words.

'Who, girl?' She frowned, her hazel eyes absorbing my expression with confusion.

'Waincroft,' I whispered, wary of the sorcerers that still held vigil around that one spot. Understanding lanced through me. My hands started to shake.

I lunged for the space that they were mourning, wanting to see him, desperate to know if he was lying there. I could have saved him, I could have saved Varellna. If I hadn't been so proud I could have come home and helped them. My new family.