Chapter 241: Mysterious Doors

Chapter 241: Chapter 241: Mysterious Doors

For a while, no one moved.

The dust of the Furrow was still settling over the ruined hall, drifting down in slow, golden veils through the dark. Somewhere in the rubble, a loose stone clattered. Barney had dropped onto an overturned slab and was leaning on his hammer, breathing like a bellows. Mirei sat cross-legged on the floor with her bow across her knees, tipping her head back to look at the broken ceiling. Seraphina knelt over her satchel, counting what was left of her vials with the air of a woman reading a casualty list. Caelen simply stood, sword lowered, bleeding from a half-dozen small cuts, staring at the place where the guardian had been.

Rowan was the first to feel it.

It started in the soles of his boots, a soft, rising hum, like the first low note of a bell. The ruined stone under him warmed. Then the air in front of him shivered, thickened, and began to glow.

"Rowan?" said Mirei, rising to her feet. "What’s..."

"I don’t know," he said.

The light gathered itself in the middle of the wreckage, a column of pale gold, rippling like heat above a summer field. It stretched upward, brightened, and narrowed into a tall, slim rectangle, with a frame carved of what looked like living wood and a surface that gleamed like polished amber. A handle of dull bronze grew out of its side, shaped like a curled leaf.

A door.

It stood alone in the rubble, perfectly intact, as though it had always been there and the hall had been built around it.

"Uh," said Barney. "Boss. Behind you."

Rowan did not turn. He was still looking at the golden door, and the quiet certainty settling in his chest told him exactly what he would see if he did.

He turned anyway.

Four more doors had appeared in the hall, each one standing a few paces in front of one of his companions, and each one a different color.

In front of Seraphina, a door of deep, rippling blue, like the surface of a mountain lake at dusk. In front of Mirei, a door of living green, its panels traced with climbing vines and tiny, glimmering buds. In front of Caelen, a door of bright, burnished yellow, the color of sunlit wheat. And in front of Barney, a door of dark, glowing red, like iron fresh from the forge, with a handle shaped like a hammer.

No one spoke. The only sound was the soft, patient hum of five doors waiting.

"I guess," said Rowan slowly, "this is the reward mechanic for defeating the floor thirty guardian."

"It must be," said Seraphina. She had risen and stepped back, and her eyes had narrowed behind her spectacles into the sharp, calculating look that always came before a long list of questions. "Five challengers, five doors. Each one distinct. Each one positioned precisely in front of its recipient." She tilted her head. "The colors are not random. I would wager every one of them corresponds to something about the person standing in front of it." ℯⅇ𝙡.

"Gold for the farmer," said Mirei, poking Rowan’s shoulder. "Obviously."

"Blue for the alchemist," Seraphina murmured. "Water. Reagents. Perhaps something deeper."

"Green’s for me," said Mirei, staring at her door with wide eyes. "Wind and forests. Arrows." She bit her lip. "I always wondered which one I’d get."

"Always wondered?" Caelen said dryly. "You’ve never seen one before."

"It’s a figure of speech."

He did not answer. He had walked the few paces to his own door, and he stood looking at the yellow surface with an expression Rowan could not read. His hand hung loose at his side, not quite touching the handle.

Barney, on the other hand, had no such reservations.

He launched himself off the slab with a grunt and strode up to his red door like a man arriving at a feast. He smacked a palm against the glowing panel, and it gave a soft, bell-like chime. "Look at this thing," he rumbled. "It’s got a hammer for a handle. Whoever designed this knows me personally."

"Barney," said Seraphina, in a warning tone.

"What?"

"We have no idea what is on the other side."

"It’s a reward, Sera. The Tower doesn’t ambush you after you win. That’s not how this works." He gave her his widest, most infuriating grin. "Probably."

"That is exactly the sort of reasoning that ends in..."

But Caelen had already moved.

He took a single, steady breath, and without another word, he closed his hand around the handle of the yellow door and turned it.

It opened without a sound. A flood of warm, golden light poured out of the gap, bright as a spring morning, and the shadows of the ruined hall retreated before it. Caelen stood on the threshold for a moment, a dark outline against the glow. He glanced back at his sister, and something passed between them in a look, quick and wordless, that Rowan had seen a hundred times before.

"See you on the other side," he said.

"Don’t die," said Mirei, with a crooked smile.

"I’ll try."

He stepped through. The light swallowed him, and the door closed behind him with a soft, final click.

Barney let out a whoop that echoed off the broken walls. "Right! That’s my cue." He grabbed his own handle, wrenched the red door wide, and a wave of heat rolled out over the hall, smelling of coal and hot metal and fresh-cut steel. The glow lit his face and his dented armor, and for a moment, he looked like some great, scarred god of the forge, grinning at the fire.

He turned back and flung one huge arm into the air.

"See you on the thirty-first floor, boss!" he hollered. "Save me a spot!"

"We will," Rowan called back, and he could not help smiling.

"And you’d better bring snacks!"

"We’ll bring snacks."

Barney laughed, a long, booming peal of delight, and plunged through the door. The red light flared, the heat rolled over them once more, and then the door shut with a deep, ringing clang, like a hammer on an anvil, and he was gone.

The silence that followed was a good deal softer than before.

Three of them remained.

Seraphina still stood before her blue door, hands clasped, brow furrowed. Mirei hovered in front of the green one, rocking on her heels, her bow clutched against her chest, caught between excitement and a nervousness she was trying very hard not to show. And Rowan stood alone before the gold, with the scythe resting against his shoulder and the faint hum of the door humming through his bones.

"So," said Mirei, after a moment. "Do we all just... go?"

"I think we should," said Rowan. "Together, if we can. But they seem to open one at a time."

"Typical." Seraphina adjusted her spectacles. "A mechanism designed to isolate the recipients, so that no one can see what the others receive. Whoever built the Tower understands that rewards matter more when they are private." She paused. "It is also, I admit, a very efficient way to avoid arguments about who gets what."

"You sound almost impressed."

"I am deeply suspicious. Those are not mutually exclusive."

Mirei laughed, a small, bright sound that eased the weight in the air. "I’ll go next," she said. "Before I lose my nerve. Boss, Sera, I’ll see you on thirty-one."

"We’ll be right behind you," said Rowan.

She gave them a quick, determined nod, squared her shoulders, and walked up to the green door. It swung open at her touch in a gust of sweet, clean wind that stirred her hair and smelled of pine and rain. She stepped into a rustle of leaves and a flicker of green light, and was gone.

"Well," said Seraphina, after a long pause. "I suppose that leaves the two of us."

"It does."

She studied her blue door a moment longer. Then, unexpectedly, she turned to Rowan, and her face softened into something almost shy.

"I’m glad it was you who led us up here," she said. "I did not say so at the academy. I should have."

He blinked. "Sera..."

"That is all." She straightened her coat, tucked her satchel under her arm, and gave him a brisk, businesslike nod. "Do try not to be reckless. I should hate to waste a good elixir."

She opened the blue door. A cool, silvery light spilled across the floor, with a faint scent of salt and rain, and she stepped through with her chin high and her shoulders squared. The door closed softly behind her.

Rowan was alone in the ruined hall.

He stood very still. The hum in his boots had deepened, rising through his legs and into his chest, until he could feel it in his teeth. The golden door shone patiently before him, its amber surface rippling, as if it had all the time in the world.

He thought of Eden, and the World Tree standing tall in the golden light. He thought of Lily’s tiny hand curled around his finger. He thought of Cassian Redmourne’s last words, and the long climb that still lay ahead.

Whatever is on the other side, he thought, it will be mine to carry.

He reached out and closed his fingers around the leaf-shaped handle. It was warm, and it fit his palm as if it had been made for it.

The door opened, and the light took him.