Page 61 of Sightwitch
Clearly, whatever these items were, he thought I needed them. “Fine,” I huffed, trying to catch my breath.
I yanked up the pouch, but before I could snag the book, my eyes landed on its cover.
Diary of Eridysi Gochienka
My fogging breaths broke off. All I could do was stare, hand outstretched. Body half crouched.
Eridysi Gochienka.
That wastheEridysi of legend, and this was her diary. Yet I felt no interest or elation at the sight of it. All that came was a vast shoveling horror.
For if this was her diary, then this place must be her tomb.
And if this was her tomb, then I knew what the shapes in the ice were—and I knew exactly why time was running out. The Sistershadbeen called for sleeping, and I had to reach their tombs before it was too late.
My muscles erupted with power. I snatched up the diary and pouch, and, abandoning the Rook, I charged out of the room and onto the spiral once more. Somehow my feet knew where to take me. Or perhaps it was Sirmaya, leading me the rest of the way.
The spiral blurred around me. I lost track of the cold, of the diary and pouch still clasped in my hands—of who I was at all. Everything shrank down to what I knew waited ahead.
After an eternity of running, I reached a gap in the ice large enough to barrel through. The spiral kept rising, but Iknewthis was the branch I needed.
I veered through it, and moments later, another cube faced me. This one, though, was large enough to hold a hundred Sisters.
Large enough to hold all the people I’d ever loved.
Then there they were. Each and every face of each and every Sightwitch who had filled my days. The ice hadn’t covered them entirely yet—not all of them, at least. Some still had enough of their faces exposed for me to recognize them.
Over there was Ute, and beside her was Birgit. There were Rose and Trina and Margrette. Oriya and Fazimeh.
And there, in the farthest corner, was Hilga … with Tanzi right beside her.
I hurried to my Threadsister, a numbness rushing over me as I scanned the ice. There had to be a way to clear it. A way to dig her out—to dig them all out.
I rushed past Ute, then Birgit. They looked so peaceful with their eyes closed. Nothing like the images in the scrying pool.
Still, I had totryto break them free.
I reached Tanzi and dropped the diary and the pouch at my feet. “Wake up,” I whispered. “Wake up, Tanz. I’m here—just like you asked. Please, wake up.”
Nothing happened.
So with hands that trembled out of control, I unfastened my knife. It was the only tool I had for breaking the ice; it would have to be enough.
“Wake up,” I said, louder now and, with my arm rearing back.
I stabbed the ice.
A shockwave tore out. It threw me backward, yanking me to the ground with mind-crunching power.
My head banged the ice. The world went black, and for a moment, I simply lay there.
Lost. No sound, no sight. I was stripped down to my barest nothing, and it took all I had to simply cling to consciousness.
I thought perhaps I had died.
But then my breath returned, aching and weak, followed by a flickering haze of glowing blue.
Last came sound. Words from throats I knew.
