The acceptance breaks me.
Tears roll down my cheeks, and nowthat I’m letting them fall, they’re endless. I cry silently, refusing to break stride or make a sound. The spine is made of magic—it can’t speak to me or be my friend—but it reminds me of everything I’ve lost and everything I’m fighting for.
Vengeance. Safety. Independence.
Truth makes me who I am, but these other words are important to me, too.
Movement in the spine draws my focus. A new rune joins the cluster around my fingers, and a sob escapes me. I recognize it immediately. More rose gold than my truth, it’s delicate and fragile. The rune itself is made of feminine, arching lines that repeat in a complex pattern—bracketed on the top and bottom by thick, mirrored wedges.
Echo.I think the word, unwilling to say it out loud. My silence doesn’t matter, though, the spine hears me. I get one moment of breathless anticipation to brace myself, then I hear her.
“Celine, my love, you’re home.”
She’s not here.My mother has been dead for seven years, but part of her remains. Valenara left traces of herself on every surface of this house, bridging the gaps of memory lost to time.
I hate the reminder of what I’ve lost. It’s cruel.
I can’t hug residual energy. Can’t lean on the traces of her that only remain because of her radiant word.
“You’re angry with me,” she says. “You don’t have to say it, I know my girl.”
“You aren’t real.” My voice is thick with tears. “Don’t pretend you are.”
“I may not be physically with you anymore, but I am real, Celine.”
“You’re a ghost,” I snap. “And you left me all alone to deal with him.”
The echo rune closest to my hand quivers andfades. I close my fingers around it—I don’t want her to go—but it’s too late. Her echo is gone, driven away by my quick temper.
Weak.The thought forms before I can stop it, soaked up immediately by the spine. A tremor runs through the magic, and the remaining echo runes scatter, fluttering away from me like terrified butterflies.
My regret is sharp and immediate.Is she weak, or am I?
Whatever part of my mother lingers in this house deserves peace. She went through more in her lifetime than anyone should have to endure. I never wanted to add to her pain, but unanswered questions haunt me. Why wouldn’t she leave him? Or kick him out? Or hire guardians of her own? Someone who could have made him leave us alone.
I move again, descending to the bottom of the spine. It’s colder down here, not uncomfortably so, but chilly. I’m as deep as I can go without traveling to a lower tier.
With my hand still buried in the magic, I sink to my knees on the floor and face the spine. “He can’t be allowed in,” I say. “Too many lives depend on keeping him out. Please help me.”
The magic quivers around my hand, pulses twice, and shoots a golden film in all directions. It sinks into the walls and vanishes, dimming the spine itself.
Sighing, I let my eyes flutter shut. I did what I came for, but I’m not ready to leave yet. I need a moment to myself. Before I’m asked to give more orders. Before telling Malach that my father took his wings. Before I go to war and risk lives I’m not prepared to lose.
Counting my breaths, I inhale and exhale rhythmically until I’m almost calm again. The tears dry on my cheeks, forming a salty film I can’t wait to scrub away. It’s the push I needed to get back on my feet. My legs hurt from kneeling on the hard floor, and I wobble as I stand, the spine’s grip on my arm tightening as it tries to steady me.
“Thanks,” I murmur, then shake my head, feeling silly for talking to a giant tower of magic. Slowly, I pull my hand loose, pausing when only my fingertips remain. “Tell her...” I shut my eyes. “Tell Mom I’m sorry.”
My hand drops to my side. It’s colder than the rest of my body, and I stuff it into my pocket as I begin the ten-story climb. I feel every step, circling the spine until my quads scream for relief. When I finally reach the top, part of me wishes there were more stairs left.
Pain, at least, makes sense.
My fingers wrap around the doorknob, and I pause to glance over my shoulder one last time. Inside the spine, my truth runes are scattered. They glow brighter than all the other words—except for one. The last echo rune outshines everything.
I let one last tear fall.For you, Mom.
I open the door and leave. It locks behind me with a definitive snick.
This time, I don’t look back.