There it was, just as Aidan had described: a long, narrow bridge of planks and rope stretching across a vast chasm to a destination unseen.
Antoinette could still feel the bed beneath her, and she could still hear familiar house sounds. Aidan had told her that too. Nothing to worry about. Don’t open your eyes. The sounds of your room will go away as you travel across the bridge.
She wondered if her parents would look in on her. Unable to have children, they had adopted three-year-old Antoinette and raised her as their own. Now, to allow their only child to enter a world at war was a huge risk for them, but in the end they trusted King Eliam enough to let their daughter go.
Back to the bridge, Antoinette told herself.
In her mind she walked to the edge of the cliff and looked down. It was a long way down—impossible to tell for sure how far to the ground because thick white mist swirled below.
Antoinette found a stone and hurled it out as far as she could. She watched it arc and fall. She saw it disappear into the cloud bank. And then she listened.
Nothing. Okay, so it’s a long, long way down.
Antoinette shrugged. The height didn’t worry her. She looked at the bridge. It looked sturdy. She looked at the sky. It was blue and cloudless, only the slightest breeze. She knew she’d make it across that bridge. In fact, she decided to run across.
Feeling invincible, Antoinette stepped out on the bridge. There, it was just as sturdy as it looked. So, off she went—a jog at first, confidence surging—then, a run. Then, an all-out sprint.
The planks went by in bunches. She started laughing as she reached the beginning of the upslope. Then she stopped running and stood very still.
She had heard something, and it was not a creak or a groan from the hallway or the rattle of the heat kicking on in her bedroom. It was not any house noise. It was a low roll of thunder, deep and menacing.
Antoinette slowly turned her head to the left. The sky, which had only a moment ago been peaceful and blue, had turned to a sickly yellow haze. And the horizon was black and spreading.
Lightning flickered. Thunder followed like the echo of a cannon. Strange, Antoinette thought. Why didn’t I sense the storm approaching? And then Antoinette was afraid.
Lightning split the sky. Antoinette ducked as thunder crashed and echoed off the cliff walls. The wind picked up and swirled. The bridge began to sway.
If the storm caught her out in the open, suspended over the chasm. . . . Heavy raindrops began striking her. Antoinette held the Book of Alleble close to her body to keep it dry. Then she stumbled. Shaking, Antoinette knelt there for a moment. She wanted the storm to go away. She wanted to make it go away.
Maybe I should just open my eyes. Then she realized her eyes were already open. She was no longer in her bedroom. It was no longer a vision.
When she looked up, it seemed that there were scowling faces in the clouds. Hideous, angry faces full of hate. Her skin prickled. The air grew chill.
Antoinette stood again, clutched the Book of Alleble, and sprinted, calling out to King Eliam as she ran. Her King would not let it end here, before her mission had really even begun.
The rain came harder now, obscuring her view of the way ahead. She slipped on the wet planks. One foot went over the edge for a moment.
Thunder crashed. It seemed to be laughing at her.
Antoinette pulled herself up and struggled forward. Then, through the sheets of rain, she saw it. The door! She pushed forward until, suddenly, she stood before it. The storm was gone as though it had never been. Antoinette exhaled, wiped back her sodden hair, and whispered, “Thank you.”
The door was tall, hewn from gray stone and engraved intricately with castles, unicorns, warriors, and a long and winding road that led to two mountains. The sun rose between those peaks, and Antoinette’s heart rejoiced.
Seeing the silver ring, she reached down and pulled. Light, fierce and startlingly pure, shone forth from behind the door. Antoinette shielded her eyes with one arm and walked through The Door Within.
