Valeska tosses the dice. They bounce around the box until they land on three wavy lines and a blue circle. We both stare at the mirror in anticipation as it fills with white smoke. And then a set of eyes the color of melted chocolate come into view, fringed with thick lashes. The view pans back, and I see a gorgeous woman in a purple cloak with a silver crescent moon hanging around her neck. Her red lips move. A few seconds later, as if the sound isn’t synced, I hear, say my name as if it were whispered in my ear. Damien’s eyes meet mine. He can’t see what I see from his place next to Lazarus, but he gives me an encouraging nod.
I look again. Clearly I need to find this woman and ask her her name, then return to the silo to give it to the box. But who is she? She doesn’t resemble Damien at all. I don’t think she’s family.
Feathers and crystals adorn her hair, and when she twists her hand, magic erupts in her palm.
I chew my lip. She must be a witch. I shuffle through all the stories Damien shared with me. He only ever mentioned one witch and not by name. I’m guessing she’s the one who helped Damien get his father back. The one from Dimhollow, the wild lands perched between the sea and the volcanic mountains that border Willowgulch. I picture the place Damien described in my head, hoping it will help me.
“Valeska, choose an archway,” Lazarus commands.
I know which one I would pick. The moon archway shows a beach of red sand lapped by dark, rippling water. A boat waits ashore in the distance. The topography looks nothing like where the witch in the mirror is standing. In contrast, the star archway shows a dark forest, similar to the one in the mirror.
My heart beats harder as Valeska chooses the star archway and the forest within. I rush for the moon archway and leap across the threshold. Once my feet land on the red sand beach, I have to smile. Blood Beach is the seaport of Aendor, the coastal territory of Stygarde. If I row the boat around the stone wall sheltering the harbor, I can go ashore on the edge of Dimhollow on the other side. Valeska might be closer, depending on which part of the forest she was transported to. But with any luck, she ended up on the other side of the volcanic river. She’ll have to search for the witch. I know exactly where I’m going. I can win this.
“Don’t get cocky, Eloise,” Phantom says, jumping into the boat with me, their dainty paws landing cleanly on the wooden seat. “Remember, Valeska is faster than you. She may not have a map like you do, but she can cover ground ten times as fast. And if she gets lucky, she might be able to make it through the Dark Forest and over the river and mountain before we can get around the seawall buffering the harbor.”
I pull up anchor and man the oars. “It doesn’t look that far, but you’re right. Do you think I should use magic to help push the boat?”
Phantom seems to consider it. “No. It’s tempting, but we can’t risk overusing your magic. The last trial came terrifyingly close to killing you. Save your power in case the witch won’t give you what you want.”
I throw my back into it the old-fashioned way. Pretty soon it’s just me vs. an ocean that seems to go on forever. I hug the bank and fall into a rhythm. “Did you notice that smile Valeska gave me? Smug, right? What was that all about?”
“Don’t let her get in your head, darling,” Phantom says. “Who knows why someone like that does anything?”
I nod. “Only, she lost the first challenge. Why wouldn’t she be more nervous about this one? Her entire disposition just seemed odd. It’s like when Tony would try to gaslight me. Same expression.”
The fox stares off into the distance with its glowing green eyes. “What could it be though? It’s not as if she can cheat. You’re not even in the same world.”
“What do you mean?”
“During the first trial, based on the times you returned through the archway and the fact that both of you obtained the same earring, we know that there were two versions of the same test. Mirror worlds. Somehow the magic is plucking these scenarios out of Damien’s head and creating all this, balancing the odds with your abilities. This is ancient, deep magic, Eloise. We can feel it like a dull vibration in the air.”
I can’t feel anything, but I’ll take their word for it. I row steadily until we round the wall of the harbor. Instantly, waves barrel into me, rocking my little boat and making it harder to row. Phantom has to stand to keep their balance.
“How far?” I ask the fox.
“About a thousand yards I’d say.”
“Fuck.” My hands have started to blister, and as I look over my shoulder, the tip of the forest we’re aiming for feels like it’s getting farther away.
Phantom does a little dance when another wave plows into us and says, “Perhaps a little magic?”
The bond between us rises like a slack rope going taut, and I reach again for the magic my mother showed me how to call. Racking the oars, I feel the boat take off toward our destination, the water itself pushing us along. It’s easier this time. All the practice I put in during my recovery has paid off. I’m not even winded as we slide into shore. The beach here is rocky, and I hug myself against a sudden chill.
“Does it seem colder here to you than on the boat?” I whisper.
“At least ten degrees. More, we think.”
“Weird.” I know better than to let it slow me down. All I need to do is get the witch’s name and I’ll be snuggled up to Damien in no time. Thankfully, the tactical jacket from Everald is appropriate for this weather. I pull on a skull cap and dark gloves from the pockets, then stride quickly toward the dense woods bordering the beach. If I understand correctly, this is Dimhollow. I just need to find the witches and then the witch in question.
As I enter the forest, I almost hit my head on a bundle of sticks and bones hanging from a tree branch. I step around it. We continue along a winding path, walking faster until I break into a jog.
“We have a… feeling,” Phantom whispers. “Careful.”
I check that both my daggers are sheathed at my thighs where I left them. “What’s going to happen to me that hasn’t already?” I say softly. “Giant spider? Bear? Can’t be worse than the salamander.” Up ahead, a pile of pine needles swirls like it’s caught in its own mini tornado. Above it, another bundle hangs from a tree branch—this one cloth and fur and leaves. Past that, I see a pile of stones under another one: bones and hair and something smeared black. As I pass it, the stones topple.
Phantom stops, the hair along their back standing on end. “We don’t like this, Eloise.”
“What is it?”
