“You know what’s in those caves?” Asked Ambrose.
Maeve nodded and gave her father a confident look. Ambrose nodded back and turned back to Mal. They didn’t stand a chance of finding the crown across miles of heavily forested terrain without it.
Maeve reached for a small leather-bound book that was high on a shelf. She pulled it down and began flipping through its pages. She heard Ambrose rummaging through wooden boxes.
“Here it is,” said Ambrose, turning and dropping the stone into Mal’s palm.
Maeve replaced the book and made her way over to them. They examined the stone while Ambrose was pulling maps out of a long, thin drawer.
It was a small obsidian-colored stone with a few faded carvings that Maeve couldn’t make out.
Ambrose rolled out a hand-drawn map on the table near them.
“This is the map my father drew,” said Ambrose. He pointed to a grouping of mountain ranges. “These caves are where Uncle Alian admitted to storing all of the treasures he stole.” Ambrose turned the map slightly. “These three are the only ones we never fully explored.”
Maeve took a seat in one of the armchairs and scrutinized the map.
“This one,” she said, pointing to one spot in particular, “is the only one that worries me. Based on the terrain in the area and the waterfalls, I believe there’s a chance it has already flooded.”
“It’s been a few years since I was there,” said Ambrose.
“We won’t know until we’re there,” said Mal. He turned to Ambrose. “Thank you, sir.”
Ambrose grinned. “Which one is first on your list?”
Mal smiled. It was feline. Captivating. Deadly. “The Crown.”
On the morning of their departure, Maeve and Mal walked past the front gates of Sinclair Estates, beyond its Magical borders, Ambrose close on their heels.
Maeve charmed the pockets in their cloaks to hold everything they needed for their trip.
“Ready?” Ambrose asked.
They nodded and grabbed hold of him.
He counted to three and the tree line blurred out of view as he Obscured them to the The Alps.
The bright orange morning sunlight at Sinclair Estates twisted into hues of grey and blue. They landed on slick ground, steps away from a large cliff, overlooking a dense forest. Tops of green trees shot out of swirly grey fog. Clouds were brewing with a distant rumble.
Ambrose and Mal clasped hands.
“Thank you, sir.”
Ambrose kissed Maeve’s cheek. “Be careful, please,” he said with raised brows.
He twisted out of view before Maeve could ensure him she would.
Mal pulled the map out of his cloak and pinpointed where they were. They began walking along a makeshift trail of rocky terrain; the paths were overgrown and steep. They passed the entrance to a cave that Ambrose and Maeve’s grandfather had already explored a decade prior. They walked silently for half an hour.
Thunder clapped behind them, and they picked up their pace. Within another half hour, light raindrops hit her face. They pulled up the hoods of their cloaks, and soon after, the sky fell out.
“It’s not much farther,” called Mal from ahead.
They traveled for another few minutes before coming to a large river that ran fast and deep. Boulders and rocks jetted out from the crashing, swirling stream. Maeve looked in the direction the water was coming from, and there was a large opening.
“This is the first cave,” yelled Mal over the storm.
“This is what I was worried about,” shouted Maeve.
