The Storm and the Arch

Hi Everyone 5 chapters now and than once a week.

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Rain blurred the city into streaks of silver. It hammered the sidewalks. It turned the park paths into black glass. Avery Lane ran because stopping would mean thinking. Her lungs burned. Her ponytail hit her neck. Water slid down the back of her shirt like cold fingers.

She had left the office late. Again. A meeting that should have been twenty minutes ate two hours. She carried her smile like a shield while her chest stayed tight.

"You should step back for a moment," Adam said. His tone was careful. His eyes were not.

She walked out into the storm with anger under her skin. The wind shoved at her. The rain soaked her in a minute. She did not care.

"I am responsible for the flop. I am." She spoke to the empty street. She spoke to the hard rain. "Screw you, Adam. I helped build this company. I set the meetings. I stood outside of influncers houses to get five minutes. I lived in their chats in their dm boxes. I did the work."

The words steadied her. The storm took the rest. Thunder rolled over the park. A cold wind slid under her shirt like a blade. She turned toward the old stone arch that sat off the main path. On clear mornings it looked warm and harmless. Tonight it looked older. It looked like it had been waiting.

Lightning flashed. For a breath the arch glowed. The air thinned. Ozone stung her nose. Her steps slowed. She should have turned back. She did not. She ducked under the arch to escape the worst of the rain.

The city fell away. The sound dropped as if a hand pressed to her ears. The air smelled like wet stone and iron. Her skin prickled as if the night had teeth.

A thin crack of light opened in front of her. It was not a trick of rain. It was a seam. It widened. Wind hit her from both sides. It pulled and pushed at the same time. Her stomach flipped.

She reached for the arch. Her fingers found cold rock. The light swallowed her hand. Then her arm. She tried to yank back. The ground slipped away like a dropped floor.

Silence took her.

She fell through brightness without shape. Time lost its edges. She dreamed of Sunday breakfast with her father. She dreamed of the first morning she saw New York from the bridge. She dreamed of nothing at all.

Stone caught her like a fist. The breath crashed out of her. Gravel scraped her shoulder. Cold soaked into her clothes. The storm was gone. The air smelled like wood smoke, horse, and damp wool.

Shadows moved. Metal whispered. Boots thudded. She pushed up onto her elbows. Her head rang. The sky above was wider than any city sky. Strange stars burned in a dark she did not know.

Torches flared. Hard orange light cut across armor and faces. Men in dark cloaks closed in. Steel rested at their hips and over their chests. They did not look surprised. They looked ready.

Her mouth went dry. Her heart kicked so hard it hurt.

Hands took her arms and pulled her to her knees. Cold stone pressed through wet fabric. She tried to speak. Only a thin sound came out. Faces surrounded her. None were familiar.

One man stepped closer. He was taller. He carried weight like a habit. Black hair. Broad shoulders. A pale scar near his temple like a thread under skin. His eyes were gray and steady. He studied her like a question with only one answer.

Avery tried to stand. A blade lifted and touched the soft skin under her chin. The kiss of steel was cold and sure.

"Where am I. Where are the city lights." The words stumbled out. They vanished in the torch smoke.

The tall man spoke first. The language cut like clean glass. Someone behind her answered. Fear lived in the other man's voice. Steel hissed as it slid in leather.

Avery swallowed. She wanted to say stop. She wanted to say I am lost. She wanted to say please. The words caught. Smoke stung her eyes.

The tall man raised his hand. The others stilled. He stepped closer. Stubble shadowed his jaw. His gaze moved over her strange shirt and bright shoes. His eyes came back to hers.

He spoke again. Slow. Careful. A question lived inside the sounds.

Avery shook her head. She lifted her hands to show they were empty. Her fingers trembled. Rain and fear slicked her skin.

Another blade pressed to the side of her neck. Close enough to pinch. Close enough to draw a bead of blood if she breathed wrong.

She did not move. The world narrowed to steel and breath and the slow rasp of armor.

Her voice returned as a whisper. It cracked.

"Please. I do not understand."

They did not understand her either. The word please meant nothing here.

The tall man's eyes never wavered. His hand lowered. He gave an order.

A soldier stepped behind her. Rope bit into her wrists.

Avery closed her eyes for a heartbeat. She opened them and met the tall man's gaze. She did not beg. Not yet.

The point of the sword lifted a fraction. Only a fraction. The meaning was clear.

Do not move.

Cold kissed her throat.

Swords waited there.