“What if the rift is inside a lake?” My fingers drum against the wooden arm of my chair.
Sama considers my question, then grins. “We write what we need in the dirt surrounding the lake.”
“The rain will just wash it away.”
“Then we get a Green Witch to reinforce the land against the elements.”
“Yeah, who? The Council wants this to stay a secret.”
She shrugs. “The Council knows?”
I don’t answer. I’ve said too much already. I push to my feet. Sama’s shadows retreat to her like obedient pets.
“Where are you going?” Her question follows me as I hurry toward the tall shelves.
“To find a book on what symbols to use.” My voice is steadier than it has been since October.
Sama’s smile stops me in my tracks. “What?” I ask.
“I’m just happy you are letting me help,” she says. “I didn’t want to go back to bed and stare at the ceiling.”
I study her. She seems so happy here. For the first time in her life, she appears content and rooted. I can’t take that away from her, but if Leigh doesn’t return, we’ll go down together.
Light doesn’t penetratethis deep within the catacombs of Kosac’s castle. Leigh breathes heavily behind me as we shuffle across the weathered stone floor, checking inside cells for Fynn. A set of old-fashioned keys I found dangling from the wall when we first entered hangs from my hands, along with my mask.
No one is supervising the dungeon, which implies the cells are empty, but I refuse to leave any stone unturned. In our world, the castle’s dungeons were converted into storage facilities. But in Mictlan, they are still designed with heavy bars and bare cots to hold prisoners. Except, none are here. If Fynn is being held in this dreadful castle, I pray it isn’t here. The atmosphere is enough to give any child nightmares for the rest of their life.
“Fynn?” Leigh calls. No one responds.
“What about this one?” I ask, pointing to the only closed door in a long line of barred cells.
Leigh shrugs. “Is it some kind of office?”
“Guards quarters, if I had to guess, which usually has a prisoner log.”
Leigh nods. “Hurry. Kosac has probably realized I’m gone and has Henrietta looking for me.”
“Henrietta?”
“The female ghost dressed as a lady’s maid.”
Maybe it’s the same ghost who gave me my party clothes? If Kosac has her hunting Leigh, that would mean she’s not an ally. If that’s true, though, then why give me the clothes and the mask? It felt as if she wanted me to go to the party to find Leigh.
I reach for the handle; it groans like a drunkard as the hinges rub. We step inside the inky blackness.
I cough as Leigh swats spiderwebs away from her face.
“Another dead end?” Leigh asks, her voice small in the vast darkness.
I stay silent because I’m not entirely sure if it is yet. The room is small, with wooden beams and a tiny desk cluttered with dusty logbooks. Leigh has her hand resting on my lower back as she leans forward, eyes focused intently on an open booklet, its fragile pages yellowed with age.
“What’s this?” she asks.
Drawn by her focus, I lean forward. “The latest log.”
I read the old-fashioned names on the pages, starting with A and ending with Z. Aradia and Fynn are not names found on the list.
“Goddammit.” I shove the books off the desk and watch them clatter to the floor, dust billowing up in a cloud. Leigh stills. “Where is he. I’m starting to doubt he is even here because what the hell?”
