J. Mitchell - The Severed Tower

At the words, Ravan nodded to one of her men. Nearby lay the heavy wooden crate the Menagerie had carried all this way. A pirate nearby drew a key from a pocket and slipped it into each of the crate’s three locks, snapping them open one at a time.

When he opened the case, a collective gasp filled the air from the thousands of White Helix.

Inside was a large, long, black box, with two heavy doors, side-by-side, that served as its lid. It was painted with faded colors of red, green, and gold leaf that twisted around its edges. A faded white rabbit was on one end, wearing a gray top hat and grinning evilly, holding a wand that shot sparks in an arc of old, cracked, silver paint. Large, flamboyant letters spelled out a flowing script of words:

In spite of the pain in her head, Zoey perked up at the sight of the strange, wondrous box. It was beautiful in its own way. It reminded her of the Oracle, somehow, the faded and ornately decorated fortune-telling machine from Midnight City. They both looked like they could have come from the same old circus.

Silence hung for a few seconds. Then, from somewhere, a cheer went up, and it was echoed all throughout the canyon. Colorful plumes of sparks burst into the air as the White Helix thumped their Lancets to the rhythm of a single, repeated word.

“Strength! Strength!” they chanted, over and over. “Strength! Strength! Strength!”

“Oh, my… God,” Mira breathed, as the chant continued.

Holt looked at her. “You know what that is?”

“The Reflection Box.” Mira whispered in awe. “It’s a major artifact.”

Zoey wanted to know what the thing did, what could cause such a jubilant reaction from the Helix. Or, at least, from most. Dane’s and Avril’s reactions were not so enthralled. The girl’s shoulders slumped in defeat. Dane stared at her, at a loss for words, and she felt the fear inside him overpower the anger from before. Whatever the box was, it was apparently worth the trade.

“Now do you see?” Gideon asked. As he spoke, the chanting died down. “Time is a shuffling of events. Cycles upon cycles. Each with a beginning and an end.” The old man paused and looked at the thousands of youths surrounding him. “There are nine keystones. What is the third? ”

Zoey flinched as the Helix all shouted as one again, filling the canyon with their voices. “The Tower’s will is hard!”

“The Tower’s will is hard,” Gideon repeated, looking back at Avril. “And we all, each of us, bear it the best we can. You may take the worst of it, Avril Marseilles, but make no mistake, we all share in it with you. You make us stronger.”

But Avril wasn’t flattered. She stared at her teacher, and Zoey could feel the hopelessness starting to overtake her. “How do you know it’s real? How do you know it isn’t just some look-alike?”

Gideon turned slightly toward Ravan. The pirate just shrugged. “Thing’s yours now, do what you want with it.”

Gideon spoke some words Zoey couldn’t hear, and one of the Helix near him unslung his Lancet. He grabbed the glowing, green spear point on one of its ends by the brass casing and twisted. There was a spark as the glowing crystal disconnected.

Another Helix, a small redheaded girl, bent down and gingerly opened both ends of the mysterious black box. Zoey could see it was lined with soft red-felt cushions and nothing else.

The first Helix, the boy, placed the glowing, humming spear point into one end of the box and shut the first lid. The girl shut the other, letting the white rabbit rest back in its original position. Both of them quickly moved away, and a hushed anticipation filled the canyon.

The black box sat unassumingly on the ground. At least for a second. Then it was as if what little light there was in the canyon all drained just a little bit—before the box shook violently and flashed. A loud boom, like a thunderclap, rocked the ground, and Zoey felt Holt jump under her.

When the sound faded, the two same Helix, with trepidation, opened the double doors and reached inside. They each lifted out the exact same thing.

A green, crystalline spear point for a Lancet. Where there had been one inside the box before, now there were two.

Shocked intakes of breath came from the White Helix. They stared in silence at the two glowing spear points. Then they erupted into cheers again. Sparks of color flashed everywhere. “Strength! Strength! Strength! Strength!” they chanted once more.

Zoey felt despair wash out from Avril. The box, whatever it was, apparently was the real thing.

“You are honor-bound to serve me.” Gideon started walking toward Avril, and as he spoke the chanting died down once more. “ This is how you will do it. It is not what you wanted or intended. In fact, it is the opposite. But, the Tower’s will is hard.”

“The Tower’s will is hard,” the crowd repeated softly.

Avril glared at Gideon when he stopped before her. “Is honor so important?” Her voice was barely a whisper.

“Honor is not about our choices,” he answered. “Honor is about how we live with the consequences.”

Avril held Gideon’s gaze a second longer—then nodded. Dane looked away. Apparently it was decided, and there was nothing either could do to change it. Back near the tiny bridge and the river, Ravan smiled.

“Did you find what we have all been waiting for?” Gideon asked.

Avril looked toward Zoey, clinging weakly to Holt’s back, the air around her fluctuating with Ambassador’s green laser light. As Gideon’s attention shifted to her, she saw something strange. His eyes were free of the Tone, but they were also clouded milky white. It was… odd.

“Do your… eyes not work right?” the little girl asked.

The White Helix close enough to hear turned in shock.

“Zoey…” Mira said cautiously.

But Gideon only smiled. He moved toward Holt and Zoey felt him tense slightly. Ambassador rumbled behind her.

“No,” Gideon said. She still couldn’t feel anything from him, but his voice was soft and comforting. “But they once did.”

“What happened to them?” Zoey asked, studying them up close when he stopped in front of her. It was like they were full of fog, but it didn’t look scary or painful.

“What is your name, little one?”

“Zoey.”

Gideon paused, considering the name, and right then there was a slight sense of feeling from him. Like the release of some long-held tension. But it lasted only a moment, and the old man was unreadable again. “I lost my sight when the invaders came but as it turned out, the loss was—auspicious.” He spoke without any hint of bitterness or regret. “My name is Gideon, and we are very humbled by you, Zoey.”

Zoey’s eyes narrowed. “What does humbled mean?”

Gideon smiled once more, his gaze drifting off to the left. “It means… it makes us happy that you are finally here. We have waited for you a long time.”

“Why?”

For once, Gideon seemed surprised. “You don’t remember?”

Zoey shook her head. “I don’t have many memories. Not since Holt found me. I think… they did something to block them.”

“Interesting.” Gideon’s blank stare lifted up to the huge silver walker, as if studying it curiously. Ambassador rumbled back. “The Tower’s will is complex.”

“Why does everyone believe this Severed Tower place can control things?” Holt asked. “It’s just another Anomaly, isn’t it?”

The White Helix, Avril and Dane included, stared at Holt as if he had uttered something unspeakable.

“Comparing the Severed Tower to an Anomaly is like comparing the light from our tents to their reflection in the river,” Gideon answered with patience. The water flowed past, headed south, a wavering, shuttering band of muted color. “Anomalies exist because of the Tower.”