Sadie Madison and the Boy in the Crimson Scarf

8 | The Brightly Painted Door

Sadie moved to the window and set her eyes on the distant mountains. "You're out there somewhere, Danver," she spoke to the night. "Out there somewhere amongst the trees and rock. Your parents may have forgotten, but I'll find a way to save you. I promise."

She left the curtains open so the night could send her an answer before padding over to the bed and pulling the bedclothes around her chin.

Oliver perched on the bed, his eyes gleaming in the moonlight. "And I will be with you the whole way."

Sadie pulled Hurtmore House: Remedy Through Torment from beneath the covers. But, before she'd read more than a handful of pages, sleep took her.

* * *

Sadie woke in a dark room. Shafts of light sliced the air. An iron-frame bed sat beneath her. Across the room sat a small wooden desk, a wardrobe with lopsided doors. Shelves held coloured glass bottles stoppered with corks.

The air smelt full and close. A confusing, overpowering mix of aromas.

Her hands found a heavy wooden door. It led to a hallway and a vaulted communal chamber. Three men sat at a table, dunking bread in a warm broth. They looked up as she entered and nodded a greeting.

A red fire roared in an enormous hearth. Flames rippled on her skin, but she couldn't feel the heat.

A fanfare of trumpets erupted.

The men looked at one another then jumped from the table and barrelled past. Sadie followed them up three flights of stairs. Pure, brilliant sunlight hit her face as she emerged on a cobbled street. Huge sandstone walls towered above her criss-crossed with lines of rippling laundry. At the top, flags cracked in the wind.

The trumpets fired again.

Here on the street, people were moving with purpose. Sadie watched for a moment.."What's happening?"

"It's the Tree," a woman said, rushing past.

"What tree?"

The woman laughed. "The Witch Tree, of course!"

"The Witch Tree?" Sadie said. "The one from Father's stories?"

"Yes, dear. The Witch Tree at San Cristophe!"

Sadie shook her head. "What about it?"

"They've found it!"

* * *

Sadie sat up. Her skin glistening. Her head pounding.

The moon floated high above the Carcassus Mountains. Oliver watched it from the window seat. "You were having a bad dream," he told her, not taking his eyes off the view.

"I think I was in San Cristophe," she said. "They were firing the trumpets for the Witch Tree. I thought it was nothing more than a bedtime story. Father hasn't told it for years."

"What were you doing there?"

"I woke up there. In my bedroom. I mean, not my real bedroom, but it felt like my own. People seemed to know me."

Oliver quietened. "Sounds like a vision."

"A vision—? Of what?"

"Of the past, the future," he answered simply.

"Don't be silly."

Oliver stood and approached. "Perhaps that is what Rhiannon talked about."

Sadie considered this for a moment. "Seeing things in a different way," she said, nodding. "Do you think that's what she meant?"