THE SALT OF THE VOID

Elara Thorne

The air near the Capital had turned a sickly, bruised purple. It wasn't the warm, jasmine scented breeze of my childhood; it was heavy with the smell of ozone and wet ash. We were three miles from the city walls when the horses began to scream.

"Halt!" Kaelen’s voice rang out, sharp as a blade.

The forward line of the Northern cavalry pulled back just in time. The road ahead looked normal to the naked eye, but through my Sovereign Sight, it was a graveyard. A shimmering, translucent white dust had been strewn across the path, Void-Salt.

"Philip," I growled, looking at the auditor who was bound to his horse beside me. "Explain."

Philip was shaking so hard his teeth were chattering. "It’s a perimeter... a 'Soul-Barrier.' If anything with a living thread touches that salt, their connection to the physical world is severed. The body stays, but the mind... the mind is pulled into the Shop’s cellar. Permanently."

“Ting.”

The Archivist was standing in the middle of the salt-trap, dancing lightly on the white dust. He looked delighted.

“Task Twenty-Eight: The Bridge of Wills. The Void-Salt cannot be swept or washed away; it consumes physical force. To cross, you must weave a bridge using the silver threads of your own authority. But be warned: every step your army takes on your bridge will drain your life-force. How many soldiers is Kaelen worth to you?”

Kaelen dismounted, his shadow-mantle flaring in warning. He picked up a stone and tossed it onto the salt. The moment the rock touched the white dust, it didn't bounce, it vanished into a puff of grey smoke, leaving no trace behind.

"We can't go around," Kaelen said, looking at the dense, salt-choked forests on either side of the road. "The whole city is being ringed."

"I can get us across," I said, stepping forward.

"Elara, no," Kaelen caught my arm. "I can see the look in your eyes. What is the price?"

"The price is a headache, Kaelen," I lied, though I could feel the silver threads behind my eyes thrumming with a dangerous, high-pitched tension. "Just keep the men in a tight formation. Do not let a single hoof stray from the path I make."

I closed my eyes and reached out. In the world of the "Sight," I grabbed the silver threads that radiated from my heart, the Sovereign threads I had claimed from the Mountain.

Pull.

I felt a sharp, stabbing pain behind my ears, but I didn't stop. I began to weave the threads over the Void-Salt, laying them down like a shimmering, translucent carpet. It looked like moonlight reflecting on water.

"Now!" I gasped, my knees buckling. "Move! Now!"

Kaelen didn't hesitate. He swung back onto his horse and grabbed my waist, pulling me up into the saddle in front of him. "Forward! Double time!"

The Northern cavalry charged. Five hundred horses thundered over my silver bridge. With every hoofbeat, I felt a jolt of agony, as if the horses were stepping directly on my nerves. My vision began to blur at the edges, turning a dull, flat grey.

“Ninety-nine... one hundred...” the Archivist counted, his voice a mocking whisper. “You’re looking a bit pale, Little Crow. Maybe you should have left the infantry behind.”

As the last of the Shadow-Guards cleared the salt-line, I slumped against Kaelen’s chest, my nose bleeding. The silver bridge snapped back into my soul like a rubber band, the backlash making me cry out.

But we were through.

Ahead of us, the Capital loomed. But it wasn't the city I remembered. A massive, swirling vortex of grey mist was centered over the Grand Cathedral, and the screams of the city’s inhabitants were being drowned out by a low, rhythmic thumping, the sound of the Altar being primed.

"Look," Philip whispered, pointing toward the battlements.

The King’s guards weren't at their posts. Instead, the walls were lined with Grey-Walkers, their ledger-shrouds snapping in the unnatural wind. And at the highest spire of the Cathedral, a single, blinding point of black light was pulsing.

Lyra.

"She's started," I said, wiping the blood from my lip. "She's not just opening a door. She’s inviting the Shop to dinner."

Kaelen unsheathed his sword, the blade glowing with the new, refined shadow of the Thorne. "Then let's go break the table."

Suddenly, a massive explosion rocked the Cathedral. A beam of violet light shot into the sky, tearing a hole in the clouds. Through the rift, I didn't see the stars. I saw rows upon rows of shelves, reaching into infinity, the Shop of Lost Regrets was beginning to descend.