23
Sienna ran up the stairs toward the top of the tower. The sound of fighting below soon faded to nothing as she climbed higher. The staircase narrowed, winding tighter as she rose. The walls seemed to suck in the light from the tiny arrow-slit windows, smothering it with pitch like a dying animal sucked to the bottom of a peat bog.
Her footsteps slowed as she reached an open wooden door carved with runes of power.
Sienna.
The voice she had heard high in the clouds was now a caress, inviting her in.
Sienna pulled her grandfather’s compass from her pocket, holding it in her hands like a talisman, anchoring her to Bath. Her home, her family, her world.
She stepped inside.
The circular room had high ceilings with thick wooden beams that met in the middle, vaulted like a cathedral. Bet
