“I didn’t find anything yet.” But he wiggled his fingers at Opal excitedly. She handed him the dagger.
Nico slid the hilt into the oval-shaped gap. It fit perfectly, rotating with an easy click. Behind them, a section of wall dropped open. Sour air oozed from beyond.
“You gotta be kidding me.” Tyler gripped his head. “Another secret room?”
Nico flew to the doorway. Beyond was a dark chamber of roughly the same size. The air was stale and tinged with flavors of decay. The walls and floor glowed with strange, sea-green spots. Shining his light, Nico spotted a stack of unlit torches on the ground. An old Zippo lighter rested in a nook above them.
Logan glanced around in confusion. “What’s that glow?”
Nico lifted a torch from the pile. It was covered in a thick layer of mold and grime. He stripped off the foulness as best he could, then flipped open the lighter. The first few spins did nothing, but finally the wheel shot a spark.
Nico ignited the torch and passed it to Opal, then lifted another. Only the top few were salvageable—the rest had dissolved into mounds of slimy black mold. But Nico stuck with it and got three more blazing. Spotting brackets, Opal began setting the torches in the wall. They cast an eerie half-light over the room, creating a spectral feel.
Nico rose. He was desperately curious about who built this place. Who would construct a secret underground room?Someone who wanted to hide something. To protect something.
The room was circular, with grimy rectangles of sailcloth affixed to the wall: black-and-yellow checkerboard, a red diamond, a wide blue cross. Four wooden chests were positioned at the cardinal direction points. A heavy table occupied the center, set with half-melted candles. A pile of rotten papers sat in the middle.
“Those are signal flags.” Emma pointed to the faded canvas emblems on the wall. “Nautical ones. The kind used by old ships to communicate at sea.”
But yellow-green stains covered everything, coating large sections of the table and floor. Nico bent to examine one, then straightened quickly in disgust. “Slugs. Gross.” He looked around. “Oh man, they’re everywhere. That’s why the room is glowing.” Normally he’d be totally freaked out, but after a giant poisonous cockroach, regular slugs seemed manageable.
“Huh?” Logan said. “Because of slugs?”
“Bioluminescence,” Opal explained. “These slugs make their own light. They must’ve gotten in here since Roman Hale died.” She touched a finger to the slime. “Ugh. It’s like glue.”
Tyler waved at the rotten documents on the table. “Whatever this was … it’s ruined.”
Opal moved to one of the chests and pried at the lid. Its hinges groaned but eventually gave way. “Old books,” she reported with a frown. “But the slugs got in here, too.”
Logan and Emma opened two more chests and found the same. Tyler popped the last one. “Whoa. Checkthisout.” Helifted a slime-covered dagger. “Just like from the warehouse, only no fancy key-hilt.” He rummaged around inside. “There’s a bunch of these bad boys in here.”
Emma grabbed one and raised it in triumph. “This is the answer, you guys! We can fight the figments!”
Tyler began passing daggers out. Logan tried to spin one in his hand, but it clattered to the floor. He swept it back up with a sheepish grin. “No more running, Holland. Imaginary creatures beware!”
“For sure.” But Nico wondered. He knew he should’ve been pumped—Emma had to be right—but something about magical weapons rang false to him. He hadn’t had a special figment-killing dagger when facing the Sasquatch.Maybe I just got lucky there.
Nico set down his knife and approached the table, taking care where he stepped. The same motto from Roman Hale’s stone cylinder was etched into its surface:ACCIPERE VICTUS. The mold seemed to be growing from a single large book. Nico could barely read the spine.
Index of Torchbearers: 1741–
“You guys, come over here.”
Opal looked up, must’ve seen something in his eyes. She hurried to join him. The others did the same. Nico pointed to the slimy, dilapidated book. “I think this was a list of people who watched over the Darkdeep in the past.”
Logan frowned. “Why do you say that?”
Nico pointed to the title. “This sounds like a roster.”
“Open it, Nico,” Tyler said. He made no move to touch the slug-strewn pages himself.
Nose wrinkling, Nico carefully flipped the moldy cover. Half of it fell apart in his fingers. What remained of the first page was a column of names and dates, the oldest entries smudged and fading. Some entries were in elegant script, others crudely scribbled and barely legible. The most recent looked like it had been written in blue ballpoint pen.
“Torchbearer 115.” Emma pointed to the bottom entry. “Roman Hale.”
“The last name in the book,” Opal said quietly. “And look at the signature above his. Clarisse Barquera. It looks way older than Roman’s. I think he was the only Torchbearer for a long time.”
Nico felt his heart squeeze. “The guy probably had an accident. Or maybe a heart attack. He fell into that ravine and died, and there wasn’t another Torchbearer to take his place.”
