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The Prophesy Tower. Chapter 47. Write a Novel Challenge.

by Cydnee HowardAugust 3, 2020

Neina was dead. Isla knew this because she had been the one to end her life. While Janus, disguised as Dr. Spang, distracted the ward with the warnings of a schizophrenic, Isla had ducked into the room and suffocated the helpless mortal. With her in a coma, it was almost too easy. As Neina’s heartrate flatlined, Isla phased into the Mors world, and watched in sweet content as the nurses desperately scrambled to revive the corpse. They had failed, of course; after all, nothing could beat magic.

That was 24 hours ago. Now, Isla was walking through the Mors world, down a passage kept like an oath from those who stood against her. With Neina gone, Isla could finally relax. She had failed to kill her the first time, too caught up in playing with Neina to get the job done. But The Queen had found out, and Isla and her inner circle had spent the last week trying to fix the mistake. Isla’s entire existence, since she had joined Queen Orla’s forces 10 years ago, had been entirely focused on the destruction of The Prophecy Tower. Now that the architect was gone, she could relax.

All was right in the world now. The twisted emerald trees of the Mors world turned to gnarled relics that reeked of death, and the dirt path turned to thick mulch that made walking exhausting. Isla knew that she did it on purpose. The Queen’s meticulous design and ultimate intention – exhaust your enemies, so that when they arrived they would be destroyed with ease. Those that desperately flew in to escape the bog below were locked away for disrespect to the Queen. Isla had learned this the hard way. It was not a lesson she needed twice.

As the trees became sparser and more intermittent, Isla strutted into the clearing – The Queen’s court. It was a perfect circle, with every chair, guard, and cup of tea standing in their allocated position for fear of punishment. The Queen herself sat on a steel chair in the exact middle of the clearing, a few steps higher than everyone else just as a reminder of her power, and, as Isla entered, she grinned.

‘Ah! So glad to see that my favourite toy has returned. This time with good news, I hope.’ Her voice was high pitched and stringy, and seemed to dance in front of you like a tease. Isla knew the rules; answer with respect and speak for no longer than necessary. ‘Yes, Queen Orla. Neina is dead, and The Prophecy Tower is doomed. I had one of my men pick up the blueprints from her office, and they are in the Library, waiting for you.’ Isla paused, watching with a bowed head to see The Queen’s reaction. She seemed indifferent, but the malicious glow of her eyes gave away her excitement. She raised one eyebrow, as if waiting for something. ‘And thank you for your help. The riddles were a welcome surprise, and writing them in her own handwriting was a nice touch’.

The Queen sat back in her throne and smirked, then waved her hand to signify that Isla was dismissed. Although she would never admit it, Isla resented The Queen for stepping in.

Ever since The Queen had taken her from the mortal world, she had always been watching Isla, never fully trusting her. But this was somewhat understandable. You can expect people to hold grudges when you kill their mother. Isla smirked at the irony of the situation. Queen Orla was to Isla, what Isla was to Neina. Isla was stopped short when a thought intruded: she hoped she wouldn’t meet the same end.

Isla walked out of the clearing, and started back up the path to the rest of the Mors world, when she came to a sharp halt. What was she going to do now? Her entire life had been dedicated to gaining control of The Prophecy Tower. Now that she had succeeded, what was she supposed to do?

She looked up at the positioning of the sun, and worked out the rough time. She wasn’t supposed to rendezvous with Janus and the rest for a few hours, which left her some time alone. Isla knew that unless she could make herself useful, she would be cast out from the Queen, doomed to an eternal isolation. That fate was worse than anything the Queen could ever throw at her.

The Library. That was where the blueprints were for The Prophecy Tower. Maybe if she could understand those, she could propose a jumping point for herself and her team. Isla tuned back on herself, headed towards the court, but took a left turn about halfway there. The Mors world never ceased to amaze her. The lack of trees meant that the Library should have been in plain sight of the court, but both were hidden from each other in the ever-shifting fabric of space.

The Library was huge. There was no other word for it. The shelves stretched up into the sky, and expanded endlessly backwards. This had always been Isla’s favourite place in the Mors world. There were libraries like this one dotted all over the realm and, provided you had the right clearance, you could read anything from anywhere. A tree right near the entrance held out one of its low, hanging branches, and Isla approached it.

She rolled up her long, tattered sleeve, and pressed her finger into the end of the branch so it drew blood. Isla hated this bit. It was a reminder of The Queen’s ownership; her branding ran blood deep.

Although it looked like nothing had changed, Isla knew that the Library would show her what she wanted to see. Without reading any labels, she grabbed a scroll from a bucket near the front of one of the shelves, and unfurled it onto the table nearby.

Sure enough, it was the blueprints to The Prophecy Tower. To Isla, it just looked like a building, but a building wouldn’t give her a job, so she sat down in one of the chairs to look closer. She flipped the scroll over, and found Neina’s looping script scrawled onto the back. The words seem to float and taper on the page, like they had been idly added. Isla scanned them, at first disengaged, until she realised what they were…

‘A tower tall and made of stone

Shall the cruellest Queen dethrone

The one to build the final plan

Dictates the fate of all of man

For if the Queen is in control

To endless chaos the world shall fall

Only one fuelled by revenge

Can truly, for unfair death, avenge

A mother’s life has been lost

Don’t let the world fall to frost’

Isla sat, mouth agape. She had found the prophecy.

The Queen was going to kill them all.

For further information on the Write a Novel Challenge by SchoolsCompared.com and WhichSchoolAdvisor.com, please click here.

The Prophesy Tower – A Novel.

To read Chapter 1, click here.

To read Chapter 2, click here.

To read Chapter 3, click here.

To read Chapter 4, click here.

To read Chapter 5, click here.

To read Chapter 6, click here.

To read Chapter 7, click here.

To read Chapter 8, click here.