CHAPTER ONE

Arrival At The Tower

They told me, "You're special. You were born to do great things."

You know what? They were right.

An airplane falls from the sky, and I don't know who I am—don't know where I am—the water fills my lungs, I'm drowning and I'm going to die—

I stare at my hands in wonder. I knew they were capable of so much, but to bring life into the world? The enormity of my act is astounding, and I—

Lives pour through me, names and places and memories pulsing in my head, and I scream—

Heavy thunks sound, footsteps of a behemoth, a monster of metal and light roars in my face—

I am Jack.

I shake my head. No. That's not right.

I am Delta.

No.

Booker.

No.

Comstock.

My fingers clutch at my hair, my braid—

Elsa.

The reindeer tirelessly pulled the sleigh. To either side, the trees of the forest were little more than shadowed pillars, illuminated only by the reflection of moonlight on the snow. In the front, the man and woman argued.

"You should've turned left."

"No, this is a shortcut."

"Forgive me for asking," Elsa called, "How much longer?"

The man and woman ignored her. "Ah, but if you'd turned left, you could've taken the other shortcut. Sven, go right."

The woman obstinately turned left. "You don't tell Sven what to do," she said. "I do." The man handed Elsa a box. She opened it to see what was inside. It was a key and some coins. Elsa was unfamiliar with this type of currency. She pocketed both items.

"Yes, I do," the man said.

"No, you do."

"Oh. I see what you mean."

They waited in silence until the trees thinned out and a castle became visible. "We're here," said the man. Elsa climbed out of the sleigh with grace and landed on the snow with a barely audible puff.

"Should we tell her when we'll come back?" asked the woman.

"Would it make a difference?" asked the man.

"It might make her feel better. Or something."

"Well, at least that's one thing we can agree on."

"Excuse me," called Elsa. "Is someone meeting me here?"

"Maybe," shrugged the man as the reindeer began to pull the sled away from the castle and back into the woods.

"I sure wouldn't want to be stranded here," agreed the woman.

It did seem like a dreadful place to be stranded, Elsa thought, looking at the castle. It might once have been considered welcoming - she could imagine it, all skinny parapets and stone towers bursting forth from its main construction, joyously-colored banners and streamers flung from one window to another. But it seemed to have fallen into disrepair, and the night moon illuminated the whole in a monochromatic blue.

It was an entirely gloomy place, now, a relic of a royal family who had long-vacated its premises. Still, she passed through the gates and raised her hand to knock on its door.

Thunk. Thunk. Thunk.

They echoed dully, but there was no response.

"Excuse me," she called, "It's Queen Elsa of Arendelle? I think you're expecting me?"

She wasn't stranded, was she? When the man and the woman had come back to her - had given her the second chance she'd dreamed of for years - it had seemed like a dream come to life. Now she wondered if it weren't perhaps too good to be true.

She twisted the knob of the door, and to her surprise the door opened to reveal a dimly lit hallway. Candelabras had been mounted into the walls, but the wax burned low and the glow they gave off was more ominous than welcoming, casting soft shadows across the burgundy walls and into the hall.

"Is there anyone in here?" she called, and hesitantly stepped into the hallway, letting the door close behind her. Her footsteps were muffled against crimson carpeting, and each step raised small clouds of dust. The complete silence was nearly tangible.

"Hello?"

There was no response. She glanced at one wall; it bore a veiled portrait, two figures blurred beyond recognition by the black cloth.

Could it—no. That portrait was in the castle at Arendelle. She shook her head. She had to remember what she was doing.

"This place," she said aloud, "is not real." The words echoed in the hallway, reverberated dully from the walls, and she steeled herself to move on, away from the portrait.

And yet - there was a familiar door, decorated with blue rosemaling. She recognized it well enough as her own, save for the message scrawled on its surface in a deep red that could only be blood:

"DO NOT FAIL US."

She pushed it open, hesitant, and then shut it immediately. As though the buzzing of flies weren't enough, the smell of death was more than enough to ensure that she never returned to that room again.

The hallway ended at a staircase, and she climbed it, spiraling higher and higher. Certainly it was taller than any she had seen before, and she wondered for a fleeting moment if it might reach to the clouds. Finally, she climbed a final step and saw that she had entered what appeared to be a lighthouse. Its center contained no lamp, but instead a chair made of red leather over steel was bolted to the floor, surrounded on all sides by glass.

Elsa stared at it for a moment, then looked through the window, and gasped. Her earlier estimation had been incorrect; she could see that the tower had not passed through the clouds, but the view was no less magnificent for it. The sun was above the clouds, beams of light shining through in rays seemingly cast from the heavens themselves.

She attempted to open the door to step onto the metal grate outside, but it was locked. She looked at the chair; it seemed to be the only thing to do, so she sat on it, resting her wrists lightly on the arms.

Metal restraints clamped down on her wrists without warning, locking her in place.

"What—"

"Make yourself ready, Pilgrim," said a voice with no source Elsa could see. "The bindings are there as a safeguard." Metal walls rose from the ground, the one in front of Elsa containing a small window, and they clanged into position around the chair. The chair tilted downwards, and for one horrifying moment Elsa saw flames emerging from metal cones, and felt as though she would fall into the inferno below her.

"Ascension," the voice said, and the chair tilted back up, Elsa falling back into it with relief. "Ascension on the count of five. Count of four. Three. Two."

Elsa looked out the window.

"One."

The railings suddenly went down, past the window - no, she realized, that wasn't right. The window - the chair, everything - was rising, at dizzying speeds. The clouds approached, and she passed the top of the lowest ones as the voice spoke once more.

"Five thousand feet," it counted. "Ten thousand feet. Fifteen thousand feet."

And then she had passed through the clouds.

"Hallelujah."

There was a city, floating in the sky. Elsa stared at it in disbelief. A statue of an angel dominated the view, as tall as a mountain. Other buildings were nestled in the clouds.

"...wow."

Music began to play; a slow, yet cheerful piano tune. There was a muffled thump as the vehicle Elsa was carried in began to slowly descend. A large aircraft passed in front of the window, bulbous and propelled by two large metal fans.

A zeppelin, Elsa thought. It's a zeppelin. How had she not known that?

The vessel continued to descend, passing a building with a portrait on the side. "Her Majesty the Snow Queen," it read, and Elsa stared. She was here. She was actually here.

The vessel slammed into a metal platform with a metallic crash, and then began to descend once more, guided into a building. A giant pendulum swung, massive gears turned, and light shone through text carved into massive stone banners.

"Why would she send her savior unto us, if we will not raise a finger for our own salvation? And though we deserved not her mercy, she has led us to this new Eden, a last chance for redemption."

Elsa raised an eyebrow. The Snow Queen? Salvation? It was hardly likely. Chances were that she was simply using her followers, much like she had used Elsa herself, and when it came time, her followers would burn alongside the rest.

The vessel descended further, slowly revealing a stained-glass portrait of the Snow Queen herself, gesturing heroically, magic glowing in sharp spears around her hand. "And the Queen shall lead the people to the new Eden," read the banner above the image. On the ground below, people had lit candles and left offerings.

Despite herself, Elsa was impressed.

The door to the vessel slowly swung upwards, the restraints released, and Elsa rubbed her chafed wrists while standing up before she could be trapped again. The faint sounds of singing echoed around her, mixing with the sound of running water.

Because, as Elsa looked around, the entire floor was covered with water. Were it not for the steps leading upwards where gifts were laid out, Elsa might have thought the entire building flooded.

"Pardon me, sir?" she asked a white-garbed man standing near an archway. "Where am I?"

"Heaven, friend," said the man, bowing his head. "Or as close as we'll see till judgment day."

Elsa nodded as though this made perfect sense, and continued on her way. The stairs past the man spiralled down, and more stained glass decorated the walls; a snowflake, a flower, and a lute.

"And every year, on this day of days, we recommit ourselves to our city, and to our Her Majesty the Queen. We commit through sacrifice, and the giving of thanks, and by submerging ourselves in the sweet waters of baptism."

Elsa's path led in a line to meet with a circle of white-robed men and women, gathered around a central speaking figure.

"And lo, if the Queen had struck down our enemies at Wounded Knee, and not railed at the Sodom beneath us, it would have been enough. If the Queen had just railed at the Sodom beneath us, and not given us deliverance, it would have been enough. If our Queen had only given us deliverance, and not led us to this new Eden, it would have been enough. If the Queen had just led us to the new Eden, and not purged the vipers of the Orient, it would have been enough!"

The speaker suddenly stopped. "Is it someone new?" he asked. "Someone from the Sodom below, newly come to Columbia to be washed clean before our Her Majesty, our Queen and Savior?"

"I just need to get into the city," she said. Then, remembering her manners, she added "Please?"

"Passage to the city?" the speaker asked, putting a hand to his chin theatrically. He was robed in black and stood in front of an ornate tunnel, below a banner: "THE PATH OF FORGIVENESS IS THE ONLY WAY INTO THE CITY."

"My dear girl, the only way into Columbia is through rebirth in the sweet waters of baptism. Will you be cleansed, young miss?"

"Glory be!" said one of the white-robed men.

"Hallelujah!" exclaimed a woman.

"Cleanse yourself!"

Elsa sighed, and stepped forwards. She'd already been baptized, of course, as a child; another certainly wouldn't hurt, and it seemed to be the only way into the city.

Nothing would stop her from reaching Anna. Not now, not when she was so close...

"I baptize you in the name of our Her Majesty, our Queen and Savior!" the man said. Elsa rolled her eyes at his theatrics; he must have seen, because his hand covered her face and shoved her backwards, under the water. He continued speaking, though it was muffled by the water, and Elsa flailed, strangled burbling sounds coming from her mouth as she thrashed.

Finally he let her up. She coughed, missing the beginning of his speech, but she was quiet in time to hear him end it. "I don't know, brothers and sisters," he said, "But this one doesn't look clean to me." And he shoved her once more under the water, where she flailed and tried to escape until her vision went dark and she knew no more.