The basement level is the old dungeons. Stone cells with iron bars line both sides of the corridor. They’re empty and echoing. Water drips from the ceiling and pools on the uneven floor. The atmosphere is oppressive and claustrophobic, and I feel it pressing down on me every time I come here.
“This is where it starts,” I say as we walk. “The mission is simple. Get to the vault, unlock it, and get the treasure out. The vault is deep beneath the castle, somewhere in the cave system under the cliffs. My ancestor designed traps and challenges to protect it. Some are puzzles, most of them deadly. The idea wasto keep robbers out, but also to make sure only a worthy heir could reach it.”
“How many traps are there?” Castien asks.
“I don’t know. I’ve only made it through two of them.”
We reach the end of the corridor. There’s a heavy iron door here, rusted but still functional. It’s the entrance to the tunnel system. I’ve been through this door twice, and both times I came back empty-handed.
“The first bodyguard was a minotaur,” I say. “Massive, strong, brave. You know, as minotaurs are. He failed at the very first challenge. We call it the Drowning Room. It’s a chamber that floods rapidly with seawater, and the only way out is through a trap door at the bottom that’s secured with multiple locks. You have to unlock it while the water rises. When the water reached the ceiling, the minotaur had to make a choice: persist in trying to open the trap door or break back through the entrance door to save me. He chose to save me, smashed through the door, and hauled me back up here. Mission failed.”
“I don’t understand. Why can’t you use diving equipment?”
“It’s the damn magic,” I sigh. “You can bet someone tried it before me and left a note in a diary where he described how quickly the equipment disintegrated inside the room. The challenges have unwritten rules. You’re supposed to pass the tests the way they were designed to be passed. I was honestly worried I wouldn’t be allowed to enter the tunnels if I brought someone with me, but it appears there’s no rule against it.”
I pause and wipe my nose again.
“Anyway. The second bodyguard was a troll. Incredibly strong and with thick skin, you know? He got me through the Drowning Room, and we made it to the second challenge. We call that one the Puzzle Wall. It’s a massive wall covered in rotating stone discs, each one weighing over fifty pounds. You have to align them to form the Holloway family tree. Wrong combinationstrigger poisoned darts from holes in the walls. The troll had the strength needed and could lift me to reach the high positions, but several darts got through his hide. Medieval hemlock poison. Fast-acting. He started convulsing within minutes. I had to abandon the puzzle and drag him back through the Drowning Room. He survived, but he was violently ill for days.”
Castien is silent for a long moment.
“For the first challenge, you mentioned the trap door mechanism has multiple locks?”
I nod. “The Drowning Room is a high-ceilinged chamber. Water pours in from vents in the walls and fills the room fast. The trap door is at the bottom. I have to dive down repeatedly, work on the mechanism, and surface for air before I drown. The mechanism is complex. I know the general solution because I’ve studied it, but the exact configuration changes each time. It requires my blood on specific seals, and physical force to turn the locks at the same time. Eventually the water reaches the ceiling, and there’s only a shrinking air pocket left. The final lock needs both blood and strength simultaneously. When it’s unlocked, the water drains through floor grates, and the trap door opens.”
“You know how to solve it?”
“I know the principles. The execution is what matters.”
Castien stands in front of the iron door, his glowing eyes fixed on it. He’s perfectly still, his wings folded tight, his hands at his sides.
“I will not fail like the first two,” he says.
There’s no arrogance in his voice, only certainty.
I look up at him and feel something shift in my chest. I don’t know what it is. Relief, maybe, or hope. I’ve been carrying the weight of two failures for weeks, and now I’m standing next to someone who doesn’t breathe, doesn’t bleed, and can’t be poisoned. Someone who might actually get me to that vault.
Dear God – and no, I’m not religious, but… dear God! – just the idea that I might finally get my hands on my ancestors’ treasure makes me feel weak in the knees. The way my life will change if Castien can truly beat the traps and challenges… I can barely wrap my head around it. My mother and I will never have to suffer again.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. One step at a time. And let’s not forget this is my third try. I cross my fingers behind my back discreetly, so Castien doesn’t see and think I’m a superstitious idiot, and hope that the saying “third time’s a charm” is true.
“Mr. Tremaine will have dinner ready soon,” I say. “You are invited, of course.”
“I don’t require sustenance,” he says bluntly.
Right. Of course he doesn’t.
“There’s a room ready for you at the gatehouse,” I say. “Mr. Tremaine prepared it.”
“I don’t require rest.”
It takes so much restraint for me to not roll my eyes. It makes my throbbing headache intensify.
“I’m aware. But the room is there if you want privacy.”
He inclines his head slightly.
“I will make use of it. Thank you.”
