A Visitor

With the search and humiliation concluded, the three were led through an open iron-barred door into the gatehouse. In the corner, a narrow stone spiral staircase wound upward into the prison.

Cramped and unpleasantly tight, the staircase forced Anna to carefully navigate its wedge-shaped steps as it corkscrewed higher. In the dim torchlight, her feet kept missing steps, causing her to stumble and fall. She tried to catch herself, but with her cloth-bound hands, bracing herself against the walls was immensely challenging.

On what she guessed was the third floor, a doorway led from the stairs into a narrow dark hallway with a low ceiling. A few flickering wall-mounted oil lamps offered the only illumination. The guards threw a hemp hood over each of their heads and marched the group through a succession of doors, corridors, and around corners until Anna couldn’t keep track of where they were any longer.

When the rough hood was pulled from her head, Anna faced the interior of a tiny, windowless stone cell. Roughly four feet square, the floor was covered with straw, with a small stained wooden pail in the corner for relieving herself. The guards shoved Anna in before throwing her bundle of clothes onto the floor.

“Strange clothes for a strange woman,” a guard said as he closed the narrow iron-barred door behind her. It groaned painfully from years of use and its own weight before locking with a deep clack.

“Staying or going?” he asked Clara and Clayton.

“Definitely staying,” Clara replied firmly.

The guard gestured to a stone cell across from Anna. Clara willingly entered and was locked inside. Clayton was led to the next cell down and also secured.

Clara sat down cross-legged on the straw, reaching her hand through the bars in emotional support.

Anna gently shook her head, kicking the itchy-looking straw to one corner, exposing the cold stone. She sat down slowly, then checked her bundle. Her pall was still there. She held part of it up so that Clara could see it. “To keep you warm?”

Clara shook her head. “I have weathered this before. You need it. Do whatever you can to get proper rest. You need to be sharp when you speak at trial.”

Anna nodded and closed the bundle, concerned that the guards might take it. It was probably best to wait until they were finished checking on them for the night.

“Now what?”

“We wait,” Clara replied.

“Is there anything I can do?” Clayton asked.

“Yes,” Clara replied. “Rest as much as you can. I will call you as a witness in Anna’s defense. Think about what you are going to say.”

“I can do that.”

Unable to stretch out, Clara lay down on her side atop the straw, curling up.

A long silence settled over the hallway between them. Anna thought of waking in the alcove in the catacombs, the skeleton across from her.

“Clara, I’m afraid,” Anna admitted softly.

“That is normal. I am as well. I am afraid that no matter what I say to try to change their minds, the nobles will still order your execution.” Clara paused to take a calming breath. “What will happen to us is largely out of our control now.”

“So what do we do?”

“Tell the truth. And pray. There is nothing more we can do.”

“I do not know how to pray,” Anna admitted softly.

“Nor do I,” Clara replied. “I just silently open my heart and release what I am feeling to the Creator.”

“I can do that.”

“Everyone can.”

Anna reached into her bundle and slowly pulled out the contents. Her blouse, skirt, shoes, tights, and apron. She ran her fingers over each one slowly. What would she say to change the jury’s minds? What could she say? Her fingers ran across the pall, slowly pulling it out and wrapping it around herself. The heavy velvet was comforting, as if being given a plush hug. She closed her eyes, wondering if it would be possible to sleep sitting up while leaning against a stone wall.

With her eyes closed, Anna silently released the weight on her heart to the Creator.

Time passed. Clara’s breaths became deep and drawn out.

The heaviness of sleep started to pull Anna away. Unexpectedly, footsteps sounded in the hallway. Something clicked in rapid succession against the stone floor. A silver light flickered. Anna shook herself awake.

A shimmering silver, indecipherable script snaked down the center of the hallway. It flowed over to Clara’s door, climbing upward and spreading out to create a translucent gray barrier over the bars.

“Some privacy is all I ask.”

The feminine voice was soft and alarmingly sweet. Maybe too sweet.

An ethereal stool of silver energy sprang up from the hallway’s stone floor.

A dark gray silk dress with a silver brocade overgown came into view as the wearer sat down atop the short stool. A young woman leaned forward on her elbows in a thinking position, steepling her fingers. Her smooth, flawless golden-brown skin, long wavy obsidian-black hair, and striking amber eyes made Anna’s heart skip a beat, struck by the woman’s presence.

“Hello, Anna Hachimi.”

“D-do I know you?”

The woman’s lips were stained a deep wine-red with perfumed wax.

They subtly turned down.

“Tell me you found the stylus.”

Anna’s heart skipped another beat.

She considered lying. But Clara said to tell the truth.

“I do not appreciate hesitation.” Her voice carried an edge.

“I did,” Anna replied. “Are you the one who summoned me?”

The woman sat up straight atop the stool, doing her best to mask her confusion. “What did you do to yourself?”

“I’ll take that as a yes.”

The amber eyes stared at Anna for a long time. While the woman’s face was young, likely no older than Anna, her eyes seemed to speak of centuries of experience.

“What did the stylus convince you to do?”

“Nothing. I did it of my own choice.”

“I find that difficult to believe.”

“Why did you summon me to defeat The Great Undeath when it cannot be defeated?”

The striking woman waved her hand dismissively. “I refuse to believe that. Rather, I have not determined what its weakness is yet.”

“The stylus seems to think otherwise.”

“The stylus is a miserable failure of a summon. I would take what it has to say with a grain of salt.”

Anna noticed how the stylus was purposefully staying silent.

“Why don’t you face it yourself then, rather than keep sacrificing others?”

“Hmm,” she mused. “You must think me a cruel person. But if I were to do that, my knowledge would die with me. Then the realm would be truly doomed.”

“Clara thinks that if everyone stopped using magic, that The Great Undeath would stop worsening.”

Those striking amber eyes slid momentarily toward Clara, fast asleep behind the sound-blocking barrier. “She is not wrong. But the matter is that someone will always use magic.”

“You.”

“Correct, Ms. Anna. Like those before me, I will never stop using magic. And I will never stop trying to defeat The Great Undeath. After all, this realm has been, and will be, mine.”

“So you’re using magic to live forever?”

“Maybe. Forever is a very long time.”