Logan tenses, his head turning to the smaller tunnels branching off from the main chamber.
Around us, conversations falter. People fan themselves and exchange confused looks. Francis laughs nervously and remarks about the caves being too crowded.
Then, the screaming starts.
It comes from deep in the tunnels—raw and primal, the kind of sound that makes every instinct in your body screamrun.
More screams join the first, from multiple tunnels. People stumble away from the entrances, drinks shattering, faces draining of color.
The floating flames flicker wildly along the ceiling.
And then I see dozens of red eyes glowing in the tunnels, like embers from a fire that should have burned out centuries ago.
EVIE
The library’snearly empty at this hour.
Most people are at the Forge Party celebrating the “good news” that Oliver and Thad are alive. But they’re wrong. They’re all wrong. I know they’re wrong.
Because what I saw on the Crown… the thermal signatures burned into the volcanic rock…
I shake my head, trying to get the image out of my mind. It doesn’t work. It never works.
Now, I’ve been in the main reading room for three hours, surrounded by stacks of books about oceanic magic, maritime wards, and the geographical anomalies of the Lost Islands. On the off chance that the Council is right and Oliver really did leave the island and get lost in the surrounding waters, I need to understand what he’s facing.
My notes cover six pages, written in the shorthand I developed in second grade when Eleanor used to steal my journals. The pages are full of cross-references, dead ends, and promising leads that turned into nothing.
One pattern, however, keeps emerging.
Every serious text about the seas surrounding Blaze Academy references the same source material. All that source material is housed in the Ember Archives—the section of the library that’s banned to students and warded against entry via fire travel.
I slam my current book shut hard enough that the sound cracks through the silence. The librarian—an ancient witch named Cordelia who’s been here since before my parents were born—gives me a warning look from across the room.
Sorry,I mouth, and she goes back to whatever she’s reading, and I return to my previous thoughts.
The Ember Archives is only accessible by faculty and graduates.
I tap my pencil against my notes, running through options in my mind.
Option one: Break in.
Problem: I want answers now, and it will take time—likely a long time—to devise a way to manipulate my sigil to give me full access to the academy, if that’s even possible at all.
Although, Kieran said that old magic can change rules. Now could be a good time to test that hypothesis, especially given the amplification I received at the Crown.
I glance at Cordelia. She’s still engrossed in her book.
Other than her, the library’s empty, thanks to the Forge Party.
The risk-reward ratio is acceptable. What good are amplified powers if I don’t use them to find answers about Oliver?
Decision made, I gather my notes, shove them into my bag, and head to the back of the library.
The Ember Archives are deep underground, accessed through a spiral descent. I’ve obviously never been down there, but my parents, Eric, and Eleanor have told me all about them.
The entrance is marked by a huge, foreboding iron door. I’ve walked past this door dozens of times, but I’ve never tried to open it. I’ve never had a reason to.
Until now.
