‘Fine,’ Ezer said.
She continued past frozen cobwebs that hung from the rafters. She used the sword to carve them aside. They tinkled as they fell to the icy tunnel floor, a sad little melody.
This place – her dreams – felt alive.
Every detail, important.
She followed the wind until the tunnel ended.
She’d come face to face with an enormous black door.
It was old, an ancient thing made of iron, but it had no markings. No plaque.
Ezer set her torch on the empty sconce beside it and tried the handle.
She didn’t expect it to be unlocked. But when she put her weight on it …
It clicked open.
There stood a different world entirely on the other side.
A house.
No, a tiny little cottage, and she stood right at its threshold.
Moonlight glimmered through a small cracked window across from her, sending a spear of silver light inside. Dust motes danced through the air as she took in every detail.
The walls were stone, the wood floors were worn and covered in a thick layer of grime. Whoever had lived here hadn’t been inside in quite some time.
There was a small bed at one end of the room, the quilt hand-stitched. Northern ice lilies for the pattern, she noted, like some of the ones she’d seen inside the Eagle’s Nest.
Beside the bed was a small table made of knotted wood, a candlestand with the candle long since melted away. On the other side was a small kitchen, a basin and a few cracked dishes, shaped from clay.
She tried to peer out of the window, but it was too filthy, and despiteusing her sleeve to try and clean it … the glass remained opaque, only allowing the moonlight to slip through.
She crossed to the hearth and breathed in the scent of woodsmoke that still lingered.
‘What is this place?’ Ezer asked softly.
The wind slid past her, tugging at the ends of her cloak until she came to a trunk at the foot of the bed. It was not unlike the one she had in her dormitory. An old wooden one of lovely make, with golden detailing across its edges.
The latch was broken, hanging by one rusted screw.
She glanced back over her shoulder, feeling as if she were being watched. She’d left the cottage door ajar, afraid she’d somehow wind up locked inside.
But there was just the tunnel, still glowing a cool blue, no monster waiting to trap her.
So Ezer knelt and opened the chest. She found a small bundle of cloth inside.
The fabric was stained, thick beneath her fingertips as she slowly unwrapped it.
Inside was a large black key.
A skeleton key, the brass detailing worn from time. It sat there, nestled in the bottom of the trunk like a treasure indeed. A tarnished chain hung around its top, the clasp open as if it were begging to be put on.
‘And what do you open?’ Ezer whispered to the key.
She thought of the darkness beyond this strange, forgotten room.
