The Torch that Ignites the Stars (Arcane Ascension Book 3)

by Andrew Rowe

  The opening chamber branched out to two other rooms on the sides and a huge staircase stood straight ahead, leading upward toward a second floor. A brightly-colored section of carpet covered the wood floor to make a pathway from the entrance to the stairs. In spite of the purple color of the fabric, darker stains were clearly visible.

  The only other item of interest in the entrance room was a tall grandfather clock. It was audibly ticking, but that sound was momentarily overshadowed by the slam of the doors shutting behind us of their own accord.

  “Resh,” I mumbled. “Should have held that open.”

  “Probably wouldn’t have worked.” Sera sighed. “Everyone okay?”

  She got a round of confirmations, then we turned to look outward.

  “So…” Sera began. “Haunted house?”

  “Haunted house,” I concurred. We got a series of nods. “Seems like we’re dealing with a theme today.”

  “That’s not uncommon,” Meltlake explained. “Sets of floors often have a uniting principle of some kind, especially in this tower. Here, it could easily be ghosts — or it could be something broader, like ‘mysteries’ or ‘the ancient past’.”

  “Thank you, professor. Any initial impressions on this one?” Sera asked.

  “Nothing beyond the obvious. I would advise you to avoid the bloodstains on the carpet.”

  I frowned at the dark stains, then activated Detect Aura and scanned the room. “Getting magic on the clock, piano, and carpet. No obvious ghosts present, though.”

  “Still best to be cautious. If there are haunts, they could be observing us from elsewhere, and no one likes people stepping on their remains.” She frowned. “Well, unless they’ve got some really strange tastes.”

  “…Let’s ignore that line of thinking.” I shuddered.

  “If it’s just ghosts, we’ve gotta’ figure out how to lay them to rest, yeah?” Mara asked.

  “Or blast them hard enough.” Patrick offered. “Can’t talk everything down.”

  “Might be able to avoid them entirely, too.” Sera noted. “Either way, let’s get to investigations, shall we? Corin, take the room on the—”

  “Oh, no,” I cut her off. “We are not splitting the party in the creepy ghost house. Have you ever read any ghost story ever?”

  Sera rolled her eyes. “It’s more efficient.”

  “Sure, and dying is the most efficient way to end an adventure. That doesn’t mean it’s the best way.”

  “Ugh. Fine. We’ll play it safe for now. Let’s at least split up within the room?”

  I nodded at that. “I’ll hit the bookshelves.”

  “Perfect. Mara, can you see if the piano is functional and correct?”

  “Got it.”

  I blinked. “Mara plays the piano?”

  Sera raised an eyebrow at me. “How could you not know that after…never mind. You’re Corin. Yes, Mara plays. Quite effectively, too.”

  Mara glanced away. “I’m just an amateur. Don’t think much of it.”

  “I think you’re excellent,” Patrick offered. “I love listening to you play.”

  “Uh, thanks. I’ll…uh, go check the piano now.” Mara scuttled off, looking a little awkward as she sat down, glanced back to us, and then began to open the top of the piano and inspect the mechanisms within.

  “I’ll get the clock!” Patrick scampered off without waiting for any confirmation. I headed to the bookshelves while Sera and Meltlake exchanged some whispers near the entrance.

  As I reached the shelves, I noted the distinct lack of any kind of smell of decomposition from the books. They were dusty, but apparently well-maintained. The spines, however, were all strangely blank.

  That’s odd. Maybe…

  I scanned the bookshelf for magic, but didn’t find any. A mundane search didn’t show any obvious books that stood out, either. A shame, really. I’d been hoping to pull out a large book and trigger some kind of secret doorway, but I wasn’t quite that lucky.

  “Clock is going backward,” Patrick reported.

  “A countdown, then? Or something involving the room resetting?” Sera frowned. “Keep inspecting it, see if you can find the mechanism to turn time forward.”

  “Got it.”

  “Mara?” Sera asked.

  “Some keys aren’t working. The lines for them have been cut. Might be somethin’ we need to fix, might be that we’re supposed to ignore ‘em.”

  “Okay, see if you can find a pattern to the cuts. Corin, any music in the books?”

  “Still looking.”

  “Look faster.”

  I pulled out a book at random, then flipped it open. The pages were blank — at least at first. As I watched, crimson letters flowed across the page.

  Listen, listen.

  A whisper in the dark.

  Listen, listen.

  Or you will be her mark.

  Once there was a bright young girl,

  With talent for a sword.

  She made herself an ess,

  And Aayara's latest ward.

  Her pride grew with her prowess,

  She said, "No one can match my skill."

  And she believed a fool's belief —

  That she could rise further still.

  In deep of night, with blade in hand,

  She sought her master's lair,

  But when she found Aayara's bed,

  She found nobody there.

  A voice rang out from all around,

  A song of deep lament,

  "You lost your way, my darling girl.

  This path leads to your end."

  Listen, listen.

  Aayara finds her mark.

  Listen, listen.

  A dagger finds a heart.

  The writing stopped there with a large splatter of red fluid over the final letters. I frowned at the destruction of poor, innocent paper, but the book itself didn’t worry me much. I might have been a little more creeped out if I didn’t already own a magic long-distance communication book.

  Clearly, this was something similar and nothing for me to worry about. I reached into my pouch to fiddle for the Jaden Box, intent on retrieving a quill to write a reply.

  Mark isn’t a great rhyme for heart. They missed out on a chance to use ‘dark’ with ‘mark’ again like in the opening. Maybe a last breath in the dark? Hm.

  “Corin, behind!” Mara yelled.

  I spun, my eyes widening as I took in the form of a translucent woman wielding a long dagger. She was covered from head-to-toe in white veils, but the silk was pressed so closely against her face that somehow, I could make out the line of a smile as she regarded me.

  Her lips moved against that thin layer of cloth, but I couldn’t hear any sound emerge.

  Then she thrust a dagger at my heart.

  There was a thump as I shifted my hands and opened the book, blocking the knife. In spite of the woman’s semi-corporeal appearance, her weapon felt solid as it impacted. I twisted in an attempt to disarm her, but she moved backward and withdrew the knife too quickly.

  Fortunately, she seemed similarly solid when Mara shot across the room in an instant and slammed a gleaming fist into her veiled face.

  The spirit flew backward on impact, straight into — and through — the nearest wall.

  I heard a feminine-sounding laugh come from beyond the walls, but saw no further sign of the spectral figure emerging. I took a few steps toward the center of the room, still holding the book. It was damaged, but intact. “Thanks, Mara.”

  She nodded, then scanned the book. “Got somethin’ important there?”

  “Nursery rhyme involving Aayara killing one of her apprentices.”

  Sera snapped her fingers. “Aayara’s name as a thief was Symphony. We’ve got a piano. Probably have to play a song relevant to her?”

  Mara seemed to consider something, then gestured. “Corin, book me.”

  I handed her the book, then drew Selys-Lyann. I wasn’t getting caught unarmed when that ghos
t came back.

  There was a click as Patrick finished adjusting something in the clock. “It isn’t built to move forward, but something was going to happen when it hit midnight, so I stopped it entirely.”

  “Good.” Sera nodded to him. “Probably controls some event with the ghost. Or ghosts. You probably stopped a trap. Let’s not count on that, though.”

  I groaned. “Really?”

  Sera smiled. “The goddess loves her puns. I can indulge every once in a while.” She turned to Meltlake. “Any insights, professor?”

  “You’re doing fine.” She glanced around the room. “Continue.”

  “Mara, then?” Sera waved toward the piano.

  “Think I’ve got it sorted.” Mara moved back to the piano, then set the book down atop it.

  “Let’s see…listen, listen, a whisper in the dark…” Mara began to play, and immediately I understood her intent. A poem wasn’t exactly sheet music, but maybe she could estimate what it would sound like if set to song.

  “Listen, listen…” Mara intoned as she played. I didn’t know if she was reading it to make playing the song easier or as some part of the puzzle, but it honestly made the whole thing a lot creepier.

  “Listen, listen…” As she progressed, I found myself focusing on her more, listening as each note echoed and reverberated throughout the house.

  “A dagger finds a—”

  A knife-wielding hand shot out of the front of the piano. Mara expertly deflected the knife with her forearm, then grabbed the ghost’s wrist and pulled.

  The spectral woman let out a shriek — the first sound I’d heard her make — as Mara hauled her out, twisted her wrist, and then shoved her to the floor. “Wasn’t very kind of you to ruin my song like that.”

  The ghost turned her face toward Mara and hissed.

  Mara slammed her forehead into the ghost’s nose. The ghost’s neck snapped back, then she struggled ineffectively against Mara’s grip for a moment before her body began to fade from translucency into transparency.

  After a moment, the ghost had almost entirely vanished, and Mara’s hands were gripping nothing but a hazy image that had begun to slip into the floor.

  “Nice try.” Sera pointed a finger. “Bind.”

  There was a flash of light across the spiritual assassin, then a moment as the ghost’s eyes locked on Sera.

  “…What?” The ghost said, perfectly audible, and ceased to sink into the floor.

  Sera threw the spectral creature a wink. “Spooky murder ghost, I summon you.”

  A duplicate ghost appeared right next to Sera, regarding her silently for a moment, then tilting her head to the side. “Huh. Can’t say that’s happened before.”

  Sera turned to her newly-summoned ghost. “Hiya. Care to tell us how to solve this place?”

  The original ghost shot upward, passing half-way through Mara in the process, then began to solidify in mid-air. “Stop. You cannot.”

  The new creepy ghost stuck out their tongue, which was pretty bizarre looking, given her semi-transparency. “Pfft. Sure I can! Rules say you have to play a certain way. I’m not you, technically.” The new ghost leaned toward Sera and whispered something in a conspiratorial tone.

  “Seriously?” Sera blinked. “Okay, sure.”

  The original ghost’s eyes widened, then she said. “No. You wouldn’t.” It raised its knife, then began to glow bright red. “I won’t allow—”

  Mara jumped, grabbing the ghost by the ankles, and dragging it to the ground. “That’s enough out of you, song-ruiner!”

  Sera clapped her hands once. “Ghost, ghost, go to sleep. Else your mother, she shall weep.”

  Both ghosts dropped like rocks.

  Sera gave a chagrinned look at the newly summoned ghost. “Huh. That actually worked?”

  The unconscious ghosts made no reply.

  Sera shrugged, then knelt down and gently shook her newly bound summon. “Wakey, wakey, spooky lady.”

  The newly-summoned ghost groaned, blinked, and sat up. “Coulda warned me, you know.”

  Sera snorted. “Sorry, partner. The other you looked mad.” Sera reached down with a hand, helping the ghost back to her feet.

  “Yeah, she gets like that. Part of the design of the place.”

  “Speaking of, does that mean you can tell us how this place works?”

  The ghost nodded affably. “Oh, yeah, sure. I’ve got the run of the place. Or, I mean, she does. But I know her whole deal. Attacks in different rooms, lots of traps, she gets stronger as you get deeper into the haunt. Toward the end, you can either kill her the same way Aayara did,” she made a gesture of stabbing her own chest, “or try to redeem her. Or, you know, you can just skip the whole thing and take the trap door out of here. She hates it when people do that.”

  Sera grinned. “And that door is…”

  “Under the rug?” Mara guessed.

  The ghost snapped her fingers, then frowned when that didn’t actually make any sound. “Got it. Just pull the rug up and open the door. Takes you straight to the next floor.”

  “…Really?” I asked. “That’s it?”

  The ghost turned and shrugged at me. “Not the way I’d make a haunted house, but whoever made it had a thing for shortcuts.”

  “Thank you.” Sera beamed. “You’ve been very helpful.”

  “Oh, sure. Always glad to help my Summoner. I mean, theoretically, since I just started existing and all that.” The ghost paused, frowning. “You gonna release me as soon as you’re out of here?”

  “Hm. That depends. What exactly are you looking for in a Summoning contract?”

  ***

  After some clarification that there were no further threats left in this particular room, we sat down and chatted while Sera began to draw up a contract.

  “You sure you have enough mana to do this?” I asked Sera.

  “Sure, I’m almost back where I was when we first entered the spire. This will put a dent in my reserves, but Susan,” she jerked a thumb at her new ghost friend, who was currently playing the piano with Mara, “is an incredible find.”

  “For spying, you mean? I imagine passing through walls and going near-invisible would be excellent for reconnaissance.”

  Sera nodded. “That’s a large part of it, yes. But she’s not just a ghost, Corin. She’s a spectre. She’s a spellcaster, like Vanniv.”

  “Ah. And because of that, she can sign a contract with you on behalf of her true self, just like he did?”

  “Yep. And she’ll give me access to some new types of magic that I’m very excited to try out. Not immediately, of course: I’ll need to practice. But this is a good deal.”

  We discussed it for a little while longer before she finally passed the contract to Susan, had a brief and surprisingly professional discussion about contract terms, and finally reached an agreement.

  “By my name, I, Sera Cadence, offer you this contract.” Sera formally extended the page.

  “By my name and my spirit, I, Susan the Spectre, accept this contract.” There was a brief glow across the ghost, then she let out a gasp. Then giggled, pumped her arms, and cheered. “Yeah! I’m a real girl now! Or, realish, at least!”

  Sera smiled at her, tucking the contract away in her bag and extending a hand. “I’ll be pleased to work with you, partner.”

  “Likewise!” Susan grabbed Sera’s hand and shook it enthusiastically. “Now, I know of another me that needs a good shanking.”

  ***

  We did not, in fact, end up shanking any other versions of Susan the Spectre. After a brief discussion and the revelation that the house had a shockingly low quantity of items worth looting, we opted to open up the secret door beneath the carpet.

  “This leads straight to the next floor?” I asked.

  “Yup.” Susan nodded. “You sure you don’t want to go up and,” she made a stabbing motion, “stabby stab me, just a little?”

  “I think we’ll pass.” Sera patted the ghost on the arm. “Lot of
effort, lot of risk, very minimal reward.”

  Susan looked mildly disappointed.

  “I could stab the current you later?” Mara offered. “You know, like in sparring practice?”

  “Ooh! Promise?” Susan visibly brightened, in a literal sense. Her whole white outfit glowed a little bit along with her enthusiastic smile.

  “Uh, yeah. Sure. S’long as Sera is okay with it.”

  Sera shrugged. “I see no reason why not. Okay, we all good to go?”

  We gave a chorus of agreements, save for one.

  “Can’t help you on the next floor,” Susan sighed. “It’s too bright. I’m not good with natural light.”

  “Not a problem. We’ll see you later.” Sera gave her a wave.

  The ghost gave us a forlorn wave in return. “G’bye for now, then. And don’t forget to murder me later!”

  I wouldn’t. I don’t think any of us ever could.

  Chapter XIII – A Party of Adventurers

  The trap door under the bloodstained carpet revealed a rickety ladder leading down into darkness. Mara grabbed on and began to climb down immediately after Susan vanished, then the rest of us followed with a slightly greater degree of caution.

  It wasn’t long before a wave of increasingly familiar vertigo hit me and my vision went white.

  When my vision cleared, I stood in what looked like the entrance to an elegant noble manor.

  The fourth floor. We’ve almost made it.

  We stood on dark green carpet, with a bright blue rug covering it. The hall ahead was lined with statues, and I could see a variety of paintings on the walls, mostly depicting what looked like members of the same family — a group of people with short brown hair and prominent foreheads.

  My companions appeared around me within moments, but even before I saw them, I wasn’t alone. There were dozens of people within the chamber — most notably a man only a few feet away from us who looked like the world’s most stereotypical butler. He wore a pristine suit, an elegant hat, and a badge of office. His neatly-trimmed mustache was black, but what little hair remained on his head was gray.