Chapter 7.5 The Needle’s Dance

Lyris waited until the palace had settled into evening before she slipped away. Most servants sought the kitchens after supper or gathered in the lower halls to exchange gossip before bed. Few paid attention to a handmaiden carrying a lantern through the western gardens. That was precisely why she chose the gardens. 

The path wound through hedges and flowerbeds before ending at a small stone pavilion overlooking the cliffs beyond Korvethis. It was a quiet place, seldom visited after dark. Perfect. 

Lyris checked once over her shoulder before reaching beneath her cloak. The compass rested against her palm. At first glance it appeared ordinary enough, silver, circular, small enough to fit inside a pocket. But no ordinary compass had ever been forged with glass that shimmered violet in moonlight. Nor did ordinary compasses react to things that should not exist. 

Her thumb brushed the latch and it sprang open. The needle spun so violently she nearly dropped it. Lyris inhaled sharply. “No…” The silver point whipped around again and again, never settling. It had never moved like this before. Not when Elora had first returned from Veeque. Not during her nightmares. Not during the days she vanished for moments at a time. Never. 

Lyris closed her eyes. She had hoped she was wrong. The compass disagreed. The air before her rippled and a thin crack of violet light appeared between two stone pillars. Anyone else might have mistaken it for a trick of the moonlight. Lyris knew better. 

The tear widened just enough for a reflection to appear. A woman stood on the other side. Dark hair. Sharp eyes behind spectacles. A sky full of unfamiliar stars stretched behind her. For a moment neither spoke. Then the woman glanced at the compass. “How bad?” 

Lyris looked down at the frantic needle. “Worse.” The woman’s expression hardened. Lyris swallowed. “She crossed again.” 

Silence lingered between them. The distant sound of waves crashed against the cliffs below. “Was it intentional?” the woman asked. 

“No.” The answer came too quickly, Lyris already knew. 

The woman’s jaw tightened. “And she returned?”

“Yes.” 

The tension in the woman’s shoulders eased slightly, though concern remained in her eyes. For several moments she simply stared past Lyris, as though she could somehow see all the way to the palace itself. “Then we still have time.” 

Lyris hated those words. ‘Still have time.’ As though time were something that could run out. As though a day might come when Elora crossed and failed to return. 

The compass spun faster. The woman noticed; her gaze darkened. “It is accelerating.” Lyris nodded. Neither of them spoke the thought aloud. Neither needed to. The needle’s dance told its own story. Something was changing, something that should have remained sealed. Finally, the woman stepped back. “If anything worsens, contact me immediately.”

“Ladies of the Veil know I will.” 

For the first time, the woman offered a faint smile. Then the tear began to close. “Lyris.” The handmaiden looked up. “Do not let her face this alone.” 

The opening narrowed. The unfamiliar stars vanished. The woman disappeared. Silence returned to the pavilion and Lyris stood motionless for several breaths. Then she looked toward the palace rising above the cliffs. One window still glowed in the royal wing. Elora’s. 

The compass continued to spin. Far beyond Korvethis, beyond oceans and kingdoms and even the boundaries of the world itself, another woman was already preparing for the day Elora would need her.