The lights suddenly converged at center stage, forming a perfect circle of illumination. Within it, lines began to appear on the wooden floor, glowing faintly blue—a trapdoor mechanism hidden in plain sight.
"Light-activated," Sam breathed. "That's why no one found it during normal operations."
"Elder Thornberry!" I called. "Are you helping us or just creating dramatic ambiance?"
"Yes!" came the enthusiastic reply. "The frequency reveals the path! The Collector's symphony requires precise notes! Watch for the counterpoint!"
The spotlights pulsed once more, forming a complex geometric pattern before abruptly shutting off, plunging us back into the dim emergency lighting.
"Did anyone understand a word of that?" I asked, blinking away the afterimages.
"Surprisingly," Sam said, approaching the now-visible outline on the stage floor, "I think I did."
"Help me with this," Sam said, kneeling at the edge of the glowing outline. His fingers traced the intricate pattern that pulsed with faint blue light.
I joined him, placing my palm against the floor. Immediately, visions flashed behind my eyes—people in antiquated clothing, performing rituals on this very stage, their faces obscured by ornate masks.
"There's a release mechanism," I said, blinking away the afterimages. "Three points of pressure applied simultaneously."
Sam raised an eyebrow. "Convenient vision?"
"Convenient psychic impression from touching a floor that's seen centuries of magical activity." I pointed to three spots forming a triangle within the pattern. "Here, here, and here."
"Allow me to assist," came a smooth voice from the shadows. Vic materialized beside us, his pale skin luminous in the dim light. "Three points, three people. How fortuitous."
Sam's eyes narrowed. "What happened to keeping lookout?"
"The only thing approaching is the mayor, and he's at least five minutes away. I can hear his municipal muttering from three blocks out." Vic positioned his cane at one of the points. "Shall we?"
We pressed down simultaneously. The floor beneath us groaned, ancient mechanisms grinding to life. The trapdoor slid open with surprising smoothness, revealing stone steps descending into darkness.
"Ladies first?" Vic offered with an exaggerated bow.
"Nice try," Sam growled, taking point as he started down the stairs.
The passage smelled of dust and something else—something old and magical that made the hairs on my arms stand up. As we descended, strange lights began to appear, swirling around us like curious fireflies.
"Residual magical energy," I murmured, watching as one brushed past my cheek, leaving a tingling sensation. "This place has seen some serious spellwork."
The stairway opened into a circular chamber that took my breath away. Centuries-old tapestries hung from stone walls, their colors impossibly vibrant despite their age. Magical energy swirled visibly throughout the room, forming patterns that shifted and changed like living art.
"Look," Sam pointed to a pedestal at the center of the room.
There, hovering inches above an ornate silver base, was a crystal orb about the size of a grapefruit. Within it, mist swirled and churned, occasionally forming shapes that dissolved before they could fully materialize.
"That's one of the stolen artifacts," I said, approaching carefully. "From the Moonlit Brews theft last week."
Vic circled the pedestal, his cane tapping thoughtfully against the stone floor. "Curious place to hide stolen goods. Unless..."
"Unless this is where they're meant to be," Sam finished, examining the walls.
I followed his gaze. The walls were covered in symbols—intricate patterns that matched fragments we'd seen throughout our investigation. And there, prominent above an ancient writing desk, was a sigil I recognized from Baba Yaga's book.
"The Twilight Coven," I breathed. "They're the ones who betrayed Baba Yaga in the 1700s."
"Correct, Ms. Hart!" Mayor Grimble's voice echoed down the stairwell moments before he appeared, night-vision goggles attached to his hat like insect eyes, the contraption wobbling precariously with each step. "As municipal historical preservation officer—a title I just granted myself approximately forty seconds ago—I must document this significant discovery!"
Sam pinched the bridge of his nose. "How did you even find us?"
