Page 140 of Lana Pecherczyk
“What’s this?” Blake whispered, indicating papers pinned beneath a blue feather. “Are these yours?”
“That’s the stupid stick we used to plan out our first heist in the dirt on the day we first met.” His fleeting smile died as his gaze landed on another item: an old, hand-drawn map. “He’s the most meticulous planner. He thought of every variable before he made a move. It’s why I’ve always trusted him, always followed him when he led us.” River cleared the emotion from his voice and tapped a circled mark on the map. “Here’s where he recovered during his conditioning. He knew breaching Crystal City meant enduring separation from the Well. He tested his limits by flying toward the city until the severing drove him back. He’d collapse, sleep, then start again. He was twelve. I couldn’t even do it when I was an adult.”
“All that pain. Just to steal something?”
“Blake,” River chided. “There is nojustwhen it comes to thieving. Only glory. But to be fair, I think Cloud overcame the pain because he wanted to prove his father and older brother wrong.”
She snorted. “And I thought me brothers were stubborn.”
Memories cluttered every surface, hanging from threads, perched on stools, pinned to walls, or scattered across the floor.
Among the artifacts, a set of bamboo needles caught his eye.
“It’s his life’s museum,” Blake murmured, reaching for a leather-bound volume.
“In chaos.”
“Not to him.”
A letter fell out of the book when she opened it. River picked it up, hesitated, then unfolded it. A childish scrawl filled the page.
Crow Boy,
I put an orange lantern in my window like I promised! Did you see it? I found more crystal animals—a giraffe this time. Do you want to trade? I have so many questions about Elphyne.
From,
Your Friend in the Tower
P.S. You forgot your dagger. I named it “Sparkles” instead of Murder. Much prettier, don’t you think?
“Aww.” Blake tapped the letter. “She called it Sparkles. Did you know when you gave me the nickname?”
“No.”
A sense of unease prompted him to fold the note. He didn’t want to read anymore. He returned it to the book, taking it from Blake and closing it with a snap. Dust bloomed. When it settled, he realized it was stupid to ignore the letter. A thousand more were fixed to the wall in various shapes and forms. Some stuck to string, others folded into animals, and simply tacked on. He stalked to the next letter, shoulders rigid as he read.
Hello, Treasure Hunter,
The guards changed their patrol route, but I’ve mapped their new pattern. Two bells past midnight, the east wall is clear. I have something special to show you—an old book about wings. The drawings remind me of your friend’s pretty blue. He might like this book.
Your Little Song Bird.
River’s upper lip curled. He’d always known Cloud spoke to her about him and Ash, but seeing it in her handwriting made his skin crawl. She might have sounded sweet here, but he knew how things turned out.
Over a century had passed, but River still remembered the sickening thud of a featherless crow landing broken and twitching at his feet. His hands still felt the trembling, fragile body. His soul still cried when it replayed the moment he recognized Cloud’s eyes staring back at him—the friend he’d thought eloped, the friend he’d given up on finding, the friend he should have tried harder to find.
Above them, pale threads dangled in intricate patterns. Glowworms crawled down each strand, illuminating what initially appeared to be a child’s mobile. A closer look revealed darker elements like braided bloody feathers, with black and white bound together. Under UV light, they transformed into swirls of green, pink, and purple. A mana-preserved photograph hung from one thread. He gasped when he recognized the faces of Maebh, Aleksandra, Nero, and young Aurora all posed together before an old-world vehicle.
A letter dangled beside it, handwriting catching the light:
Dearest Cielo,
I found a picture in my father’s locked drawer. Meet me in the garden tonight. I need to see your face when I tell you everything.
– Aurora
Star maps covered the next section of the rocky wall. Old-world constellations aligned with modern fae patterns, eachcompared and analyzed with Cloud’s meticulous hand. A letter was nestled among them:
