The Unexpected Friendship Part 2

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The Shadows That Arrived First
The three knocks came again, this time from beneath the glowing lines at Elara's feet. Pip folded his parchment so quickly that one corner caught in his scarf. “That is not how doors usually knock,” he whispered. “Most doors don't knock at all,” Elara replied. Vael had gone very still. The golden archway at the end of the corridor flickered, and the light from the key stretched toward it like a thin thread. “Nobody move,” he said. Pip immediately moved behind a barrel. “I moved before you finished saying it. Does that count?” “Unfortunately.” Elara glanced at the entrance. The afternoon sunlight was still there, but the open doorway looked strangely far away. “Tell me what knocked.” “The First Door,” Vael answered. “Then why are you frightened? We came to find it.” “Because we are standing on this side.” A fourth knock sounded, softer than the others. The glowing map on the floor changed. Three dark shapes appeared in its central chamber, then slid outward along the passage leading toward them. Elara looked down at her own shadow. It stretched toward the corridor although the sunlight fell from that direction. Pip's shadow did the same. Vael's rose across the wall, tall and crooked. Then all three shadows detached from their feet and hurried into the darkness. Elara stared after them. “I would like mine back.” “Don't chase it,” Vael warned. “It knows the route better than we do.” “That is hardly reassuring.” Pip peered around the barrel. “Mine has never gone anywhere without asking. Except once, when it borrowed my hat.” Elara turned to him. “Your shadow borrowed a hat?” “A very small one.” Vael raised a finger to silence them. Beyond the archway, three silhouettes stood waiting. They were shaped like Elara, Vael and Pip, but Elara's shadow held a key in its hand. A second key, long and silver, with seven teeth instead of one. Elara raised her brass key. Her shadow copied the gesture, lifting the silver one. “Is that what you meant by the wrong door?” she asked. “No,” Vael said. “That is something worse. The silver key was destroyed.” Pip's ears drooped. “I helped destroy it.” “You dropped it into a furnace.” “With excellent accuracy.” “The furnace was not lit.” “That was not my responsibility.” The three shadows turned and began walking away. As they moved, golden footprints appeared behind them, each pointing in the opposite direction. Vael crouched to examine one. “They are showing us the way back.” “Back where?” Elara asked. “To a place we haven't reached yet.” Pip nodded unhappily. “I dislike journeys that have already happened. They make packing very difficult.” The archway brightened. A narrow stair descended beyond it, though Elara was certain the corridor had been level moments earlier. Along its walls hung dozens of empty picture frames. Each held a rectangle of darkness. When she passed the first, a small movement caught her eye. Within the frame she saw herself entering the factory that afternoon, except Vael and Pip were nowhere to be seen. She was carrying the silver key. “Vael,” she said quietly, “I think your door is showing me something.” He examined the frame and immediately looked away. “Don't trust the pictures.” “Is it the future?” “A possibility. Or a memory belonging to someone else.” In the next frame Pip stood on a table wearing a crown far too large for his head. He smiled. “That one seems perfectly reasonable.” A third showed the factory in flames. The fourth showed the factory untouched, filled with workers whose faces were hidden by blank white masks. Elara stopped. One worker turned toward her from inside the picture. His gloved hand pressed against the glass. A crack appeared. Vael caught Elara's arm. “Keep walking.” They descended until the air became cold enough to turn their breath white. The stair ended at a circular landing with seven doors. Six were sealed with iron plates. The seventh was wooden, narrow and completely ordinary, except for the brass handle slowly turning by itself. Their shadows waited before it. The silver key gleamed in Elara's shadow's hand. “That is the First Door?” she asked. “One of its faces,” Vael said. “It never looks the same twice.” Pip unrolled the parchment. The seven marks had rearranged themselves into a circle, and a new sentence appeared between them: THE FIRST ARRIVAL HAS NOT YET LEFT. “That is grammatically unpleasant,” Pip murmured. “What does it mean?” Elara asked. Vael approached the wooden door. “When the passages were sealed, one traveller remained inside. The records said that traveller never returned.” “So we have to rescue someone?” “Perhaps. But the records also said nobody had entered.” Elara frowned. “Then how could someone be trapped?” “That is the question which cost the Keepers their names.” The wooden handle stopped turning. From behind the door came a woman's voice. “Vael? Is that you?” Vael staggered backward. Pip caught his robe. “You know her?”