The tower stood.

It was a thing of grey stone. Old. Older than the city. Older than the river. It pierced the sky. The sky was low. Heavy with rain. I looked up. My neck ached.

The wind screamed.

I am Margaret. I am the keeper.

Not a keeper of keys. Not of books. Of the structure. Of the weight. I live in the shadows of its base. I clean the moss. I sweep the leaves. I listen to the cracks.

They come from the upper floors. The lords. The men in velvet. They throw gold coins down. They laugh. The sound is like glass breaking. I do not pick them up. I let them roll into the dirt.

The tower is a mouth. It swallows the light.

I feel the cold in my bones. It is an old cold. It sits in my chest. It has been there since I was a girl. It waits for the night.

The air tastes of iron.

A shadow falls over me.

Lord Ashworth. He is tall. His coat is black. It is wet. He does not look at me. He looks at the stone. He traces a line with his finger. The stone is cold. He shivers.

He speaks. His voice is low.

The tower is sick.

It says it will fall.

It says it is tired.

He wants it gone. He wants the stone moved. He wants the view clear. He wants to build a palace. A glass palace. Bright. Empty.

I shake my head.

It is not sick.

It is sleeping.

He smiles. It is a cruel smile. Sharp. Like a knife.

You are a fool, Margaret.

He leaves.

His footsteps fade.

The rain begins.

I am alone.

The tower looms.

I climb.

The stairs are spiral. They twist. They climb. My legs burn. My lungs burn. I count the steps. One. Two. Three.

There are no windows. Only stone.

I reach the top.

The door is open.

The wind hits me. It is a wall of air. I hold the door. I step out.

The city is below.

It is a sea of dark. The lights are stars. They are trapped. They blink. They fade.

The tower hums.

I put my hand on the railing.

The stone is warm.

It is not cold.

It is alive.

I have felt this before. In my dreams. In the fever. The tower breathes. In. Out. In. Out.

I am part of it.

I am the root.

I am the stone.

I close my eyes.

I hear the city.

The cries. The screams. The hunger.

The people are cold. They are afraid. The winter is coming. The food is gone. The fire is out.

They look up.

They see the tower.

They see the light in the high windows.

They pray.

I have kept the light.

I have kept the heat.

I have given my years. My youth. My love. I have given my silence.

It is enough.

It is not enough.

The tower groans.

A deep sound. It comes from the earth. It comes from the sky.

The stone cracks.

A single hairline fracture.

It runs down the wall. Like a tear.

I touch it.

It is sharp.

It bleeds.

Not blood. Light.

Gold light.

It spills out. It pours down the side of the tower. It runs like a river. It hits the ground.

The city sees it.

The screaming stops.

The rain stops.

The light is warm. It is bright. It is fierce.

I feel it inside me.

It burns.

It is not pain.

It is release.

The tower is dying.

I am dying.

The stone is crumbling.

The dust rises.

I am in the dust.

I am the dust.

The light is so bright. I cannot see. I cannot think. I only feel.

I feel the people below.

I feel their warmth.

I feel their lives.

I am giving it to them.

My years. My bones. My breath.

I am becoming the heat.

I am becoming the light.

I am becoming the stone.

The tower falls.

It does not crash.

It dissolves.

It turns to mist.

It turns to rain.

A golden rain.

It falls on the city.

It falls on the people.

It falls on me.

I am gone.

I am here.

The city is warm.

The people are safe.

The winter is broken.

I am the winter.

I am the spring.

I am the end.

I am the beginning.

The silence is loud.

The stone is gone.

The view is clear.

The sky is open.

I am not here.

I am everywhere.

I am the air.

I am the breath.

I am the memory.

They will tell stories.

They will say the tower was a curse.

They will say I was a ghost.

They will say I was a monster.

They are wrong.

I was the heart.

I was the blood.

I was the sacrifice.

I was the redemption.

The light fades.

The morning comes.

The sun rises.

It is cold.

It is clear.

I am not cold.

I am warm.

I am the sun.

I am the fire.

I am the life.

I am the death.

I am the truth.

I am the lie.

I am the stone.

I am the dust.

I am the wind.

I am the rain.

I am the light.

I am the dark.

I am the silence.

I am the sound.

I am the beginning.

I am the end.

I am the middle.

I am the now.

I am the then.

I am the forever.

I am the never.

I am the here.

I am the there.

I am the you.

I am the me.

I am the we.

I am the all.

I am the nothing.

I am the something.

I am the everything.

I am the nothing.

The tower is gone.

The city stands.

The people live.

I am gone.

I am here.

The stone is cold.

The stone is warm.

The stone is alive.

The stone is dead.

The stone is me.

I am the stone.

The stone is me.

We are one.

We are two.

We are three.

We are four.

We are five.

We are six.

We are seven.

We are eight.

We are nine.

We are ten.

We are one.

We are all.

We are none.

We are the light.

We are the dark.

We are the silence.

We are the sound.

We are the beginning.

We are the end.

We are the now.

We are the then.

We are the forever.

We are the never.

We are the here.

We are the there.

We are the you.

We are the me.

We are the we.

We are the all.

We are the nothing.

We are the something.

We are the everything.

We are the nothing.

The end.