Of Black Ink & Feathers

4. First Glimpse of Madness

Under the first rays of daybreak, Dorothy found herself before the inner gates. A satchel heavily burdened by quills, scrolls, and rations sagged against her back. A weathered staff sat comfortably in her grip. A gentle smile graced her pink lips. All in all, she was nearly ready.

A crowd of familiar priests waited in the corridor, eager to see her departure. Before them stood Edith, who held a hollowed key in her outstretched hand.

"When there are locked doors, the Light opens them," Edith preached as she laid the skeleton key in Dorothy's hand; it was an oddly ceremonial process for such a simple action, as was expected of the faithfully dramatic Edith.

"Thank you, Keeper Edith," Dorothy answered with a smirk. She pocketed the key. "May the Light find you in all the caves you traverse."

"May the Light keep your hearth warm and your heart warmer," the crowd chanted before bowing.

Dorothy returned a smile before pivoting on her heel to face the exit. Her heart pounded; it wasn't fear, she knew, but excitement. Steadying herself, Dorothy tightened the grip on her staff - a weapon crafted by the Onyx Order. The shaft was topped by a cap that opened to expose a wick when a small trigger located near the thumb was pressed. Pressed twice, the wick would light. Precious few of these staffs still existed, making it a beloved token for Dorothy.

Finally confident, she exhaled, "Open the gate."

Marge unlatched the lock of the crank before gazing admirably towards Dorothy. "May the Light guide you," she wished underbreath.

Iron gears clicked into motion as metal rumbled. Peeling back the gate doors, the open sky welcomed Dorothy. It was bright and blue - an oddly cheery backdrop for the crumbling city. Stepping through the threshold, her feet sank into a pile of white ash, the remains of the roost.

Setting their last gaze upon the scholar, the crowd of priests held their breath as the gates rumbled closed. In the nervous air of the sealed chamber, a small voice broke the bated silence.

"Do you think she'll be alright?"

"Have faith, Myra," Edith answered calmly. "The Light will ensure her safe return."

"Where's Miles?" Marge muttered while dusting her hands from the filth of the crank. "Don't tell me he's skirting his responsibilities after last night - he's such a child."

"Nathan and Nora aren't here either. Would you say they're children too?" Nicholas teased.

"Funny, Nicky," Marge sighed through a half-smile. "Unlike our novice, I know they're working: Nora, I know, is patrolling the upper walkway. Nathan is likely organising his precious library."

"He is," Nelson affirmed.

"And Caleb?" Nicholas smirked.

"I'm here," Caleb murmured from the edge of the crowd. His messy blonde bangs shaded his eyes as he peered sheepishly at Nicholas.

"Forgive me, Caleb! I didn't see you there," Nicholas chuckled with a playful wave. Caleb sighed in return, dejected but unsurprised.

"Miles is reflecting upon his behaviour, as we all should," Edith interjected. Her calming presence soothed the timid air. "Now, let us return to our duties and have faith in what the eve will bring."

With mixed feelings, the group of priests obeyed, venturing off to their respective departments. In the coming hours, each would find some vacant time to search for Dorothy from the lookout, but, for now, they humbly accepted the agonising weight of anticipation.

***

Released into the inner city, Dorothy stood in the pool of ash that layered the cobblestone streets at the foot of the gate. Chunks of charred craw jutted out from the dust, like monuments in sand. She recognized them as remnants of a bright cleansing, as she had seen so many times before. Undeterred, she marched forward. Charcoaled fragments of beaks and bones bounded from her feet to tumble deeper into the matted ash patch. Reaching the edge of the ash, she stamped herself clean, dispelling any thought she had of the past tragedy at the gates.