Page 12 of Henrikk’s Secret

He hadn’t stayed long after that. There was nothing the healers could do for his friend—his love. The elixir that they had optimistically referred to as an ‘antidote’ was powerless to stop such a potent poison, especially if Asher had truly taken the entire bottle’s worth. The healer’s elixir would do little more than stabilise Asher and buy him time.

Time that was rapidly running out.

Henrikk had an hour, possibly less, to save Asher. And that was just a wild guess.

Maybe he’s already gone.

The horror of that thought was like a punch in the gut, and he doubled over, his palms slamming against the door for support.

Normally, he was calm and level-headed in an emergency. But not now, not when it was Asher whose life was slipping away with each passing second. Henrikk could hardly keep his fear and panic at bay. They were like relentless demons banging on the windows of his mind, trying to break in to decimate what was left of him.

It’s hopeless. You’ve failed him.

The sinister words wheedled into his mind. Snarling, he seized the doorknob and tried to turn it.

White hot pain registered as the handle burnt his hand, but he was ready for it, and he did not let go. He would pull the damn thing off if he had to.

Henrikk kept a firm grip on the handle, gritting his teeth to muffle his roar of pain, afraid the guards would come in and investigate. He held it in until his pain masked all other emotions, and finally, magic flowed through him like flitting shadows. The knob morphed in his hand, the metal turning molten as indescribable heat seared his skin, alighting his senses with agony as—

Suddenly, the metal cooled, and with it came instant relief, as though a balm had been applied. Henrikk turned his hand slightly. The skin was pristine and intact, with no burn marks in sight. Had he somehow healed himself? The blistering heat faded to a memory, his clammy body and sweaty forehead the only evidence that he’d been in pain at all.

Meanwhile, the colour of the knob had turned obsidian black; the simple shape transformed into the elongated head of a terrifying creature he’d rather not think about. The handle’s likeness to the creature was disturbing: scales, curved horns and sharp teeth. It seemed to look at Henrikk, the nostrils flaring ever so slightly—or had he imagined that?

The carved eyes were black and lifeless, yet they seemed to stare into his soul. A shudder crept along his spine like cold fingers, and it was all Henrikk could do not to release the handle.

Did I do that?

That transformation certainly wasn’t Barbara’s doing.

He turned the knob, and it moved freely. He entered the circular chamber, which had previously been his study. Cool, dank air whispered against his skin, the faint scent of aged parchment lingering in the air. His gaze swept over the room, and he felt a pang of bittersweet nostalgia for the hours he’d once spent poring over the tomes. He’d loathed those lonely hours deciphering cryptic runes, but now he sorely wished for them back; it had been a time of many branching choices and possibilities. Looking back, there had been so many opportunities for him to have done things differently. Choices that might have saved him from the predicament he was now in; forced back into the clutches of the creature that had given him everything he’d ever wanted but had made his life a misery in the process.

A large square rug with tasselled edges covered the ground, one end pinned in place by the foot of Henrikk’s book-laden desk, the other curling up slightly in a way that had always irked him. The curved wall opposite had three oblong impressions, hinting at the vibrant portals of bright light that had once hummed like giant mirrors. The portals were gone now, leaving nothing but the tall, rectangular indents in stone. Just as he’d feared, the three portals had been deactivated, much like the fireplace in the previous room had.

Presumably, Barbara had fled through one of the portals, sealing them so Henrikk couldn’t use them anymore in an act of retribution. He glanced at the arched windows behind his desk, which were thrown open to the elements.

Or maybe she flew away to freedom.

Barbara might have enchanted a broomstick, or perhaps even an armchair as a fast mode of getaway. Henrikk didn’t bother taking inventory of his office furniture. Frankly, he didn’t give a fuck if the witch had simply hurled herself out of the window to her death. She wasn’t here, which meant she was of no use to him.

Not that he’d truly expected to find her here, yet, a tiny part of him had hoped in vain that she would be sitting smugly at his desk. Then, he could have coerced her to somehow save Asher because the alternative option of asking the evil creature of his nightmares was ghastly. He did not want to face that monster ever again. He’d sworn that he wouldn’t.

But there was no other option and no time to waste.

Henrikk gripped the free end of the carpet and began to roll it up. It was a tedious task. He would’ve liked to wrench it out of the way with one swift motion, but it was too large and heavy.

With the hideous carpet out of the way, the long, rectangular trapdoor underneath was revealed. It would have been an almost laughable place to hide something, were it not for the ostentatious display of the other portals to keep intruders occupied.

With a sense of trepidation, Henrikk reached for the iron ring handle and heaved upward. He desperately hoped that Barbara hadn’t found this portal and that it was still active. He dreaded coming face-to-face with the menacing creature that had simultaneously gifted and cursed him with his powers—but that was nothing compared to the agonising heartache he would endure if he lost Asher. That creature was his only hope of saving him.

The trapdoor creaked as he lifted it open, revealing deep aquamarine water shimmering with bright sunlight. It was a window to another realm. While it may have been evening at the Keep, the water was lit up by morning sunlight, bathing his hands and clothes in an eerie blue and green glow. The portal was located underwater, concealed beneath an outcrop of rocky reef. Staring directly down through the crystal-clear water, the sandy bank of the ocean floor was visible, smooth, and white. The gnarly edges of a coral reef framed the portal. The only thing stopping his office from being flooded by seawater was the miracle of magic. Oh, to be grateful for miracles.

He let out a relieved exhale. The blasted witch hadn’t found this one, at least.

And this portal was the only one he needed.

Hope unfurled in his heart, but it was fear for Asher that propelled him forward, and he didn’t hesitate a second longer before diving into the water.

In his haste, he hadn’t stripped his clothes off, and they weighed him down as he pulled himself deeper towards the sandy bottom, legs kicking. He was walled in by reef on all sides, but only for a few feet. Then he was clear of the outcrop, and he reached the ocean floor, his hands disturbing a cloud of sand.