Eloise and I have armed ourselves heavily, which means it takes a minute for me to get comfortable. Dawnbreaker cuts a hard outline against my back as I lie down on the mat and look up at the ceiling, what I can see of it anyway. The entire thing is covered in plants and herbs hung from a rack to dry. Warmed by the heat of the fire, the drying herbs emit a medicinal odor that permeates the small room.
I reach across the space between us and thread my fingers into Eloise’s. Catarina gouges out a small amount of the sludge from the copper pot and starts drawing symbols on Eloise’s face with it.
“What is that?” I ask.
“Ash,” Catarina answers.
“The ashes of what?”
“You don’t want to know.”
I hold still as she draws the pattern on me as well. The entire time, she hums something I can hardly hear, a tune in an ancient language I don’t know. The melody is haunting and seems to hollow me out, leaving me empty.
She picks up a brass mallet from beside the pot and taps it against the side. A gong rings through the room, and the floor drops out. A shock of pain rattles my bones as if I’ve been struck by lightning. Soon, though, there is only darkness and Eloise’s hand in mine. When the light returns, we are flat on our backs on a mossy knoll, beneath a canopy of tangled branches.
Eloise stumbles to her feet. “Is this a forest? Strange.”
Enormous trees with bark the color of oxblood surround us, unlike any I’ve seen before, with broad, spade-shaped leaves. To my left, the woods are parted by a wide trail constructed of interlocking black bricks. “The shadowpath.”
“At least our weapons made it,” she says, checking her thighs for her daggers and my back for Dawnbreaker.
“Small favors.”
She stares down the dimly lit road and the branches and fallen leaves that pepper the path. In places, the roots have raised the bricks, making the walkway uneven. “I guess we should go, then.”
Our eyes catch. I nod. Together, we set off down the road.
“This is giving Wizard of Oz,” she says.
“Are you the scarecrow, the tin man, or the cowardly lion?”
She laughs. “Why, I’m Dorothy, of course! Off to see the wizard about the power to take me home.”
“In that case, what role do you see me in?”
She glances in my direction. “You already have a brain, a heart, and you were brave enough to die for me. So, you must be Toto.”
I move closer to her as we walk. “You think I’m the little dog in the basket?”
She shrugs. “He defends Dorothy until the end.”
“I guess I’m Toto, then.”
We make a sharp turn, and I stop short when I see what’s blocking our path.
“What the fuck is this?”
Ahead of us is Harcourt Manor. Only, it isn’t the Harcourt Manor we left behind. It’s decrepit and overgrown. Birds, or maybe bats—we’re too far away to tell—fly out of a section of collapsed roof. “I think this may be our first challenge. We have to go through the house.”
“But why does it look like that?” Eloise’s voice sounds strained, and her hands are shaking.
I take her by the shoulders. “Nothing you see here is real. This is the shadowpath into the Darklands. These are tests to prove we’re worthy of reaching Thanesia. All of this is a mental construct meant to rattle and distract you. Stay centered. You can do this.”
She squeezes her eyes shut and nods. “You’re right. I knew this was coming. It just caught me off guard.”
“I think it’s meant to.” I tip my head toward the house. “Let’s go.”
Side by side, we walk to the porch and ascend the stairs. The door is cracked open. As silently as possible, I draw my sword. Beside me, Eloise palms her daggers. Gently, I attempt to push open the door, but it catches on something. I push harder. It opens. I instantly regret it as Eloise gasps.
