Havenfall (Havenfall #1)(24)

I dart down hallways and around corners and leap down the hidden stairwell at the back, three steps at a time, until I stand at the juncture—the open space where the tunnels to all the different doorways intersect, each of the dozens of tunnel mouths around me inviting me into different worlds.

Though the tunnel mouths are unmarked, I know them all, could navigate them in my sleep. Cold fresh air, incongruous this far underground, seeps out from my left. There’s the tunnel that contains the door to Fiordenkill. A gust of icy wind, smelling of snow and ocean salt, blasts out and snowflakes get in my eyes, melting and running down my cheeks like tears. If I went left, I’d see a bright white sky, the peaks of a castle. Then another gust lashes me from the right, this one hot and dry, smelling like molten metal. If I went down that tunnel, I’d see a metallic city, silvery buildings against an orange sky, the last city in a ravaged world—not by industry like here, but by magic. Then there are tunnels that lead to closed doors, empty sockets to nothing, yawning portals to worlds that fell apart or were closed off hundreds or thousands of years ago.

I thought Solaria was one of them. Dead, safe.

I run forward into the Solarian tunnel as my vision blurs with tears, adrenaline battling with exhaustion as I descend. My legs feel about to give out, and every breath burns my throat. The Solarian tunnel is dark and slopes down, so far down I can almost feel the weight of the mountain pressing on my chest. I take out my cell phone to see by. And I see not a stone wall, but something else.

A crack.

A fissure in the expanse of rock, shadows swarming beyond it.

Claw marks score the stone on either side.

The door to Solaria is cracked open.





7

A pale, long-fingered hand closes around my arm, and my heart seizes. I tear free and spin around to see Willow’s face, white in the dark.

“Maddie,” she says, breathless. “Come back. It’s not safe to be here.”

“How many Solarians got through?” I hear my own voice as though through water, strange and distant.

“Maddie—”

“How many?”

“I don’t know,” Willow says, her Oasis accent slipping through in her fear. “No one knows. Come back now.”

I turn back to the doorway and look at the crack in the smooth stone. My body feels stiff and cold, hard to control. The opening to Solaria—a crack scarcely a finger’s width across, bleeding darkness—calls to me in the same way that cliff edges sometimes do, whispering dark thoughts into my head. Come closer. Step over. What’s on the other side? There’s motion in it, malevolent life. I think I can hear something from the other side too, a distant, low thrumming like the breath of some giant beast.

“We need guards here,” I say dumbly as Willow drags me back toward Marcus’s office. “We have to stop anything else from getting through. We need to seal it shut again.”

I don’t say out loud the fear hanging in my mind, that something already has gotten through—something besides the monster dead on the floor. Who was down here tonight? Someone is dead. And Brekken, Brekken—

I cut off the thought as Willow and I reach the office. Graylin, Sal, and the Silver Prince all look up as the door slams shut behind us. Graylin’s hands are raised flat over Marcus like he’s a puppet master and the glittering magic in the air is his show. But my uncle is still unconscious. Sal paces with his hands in his pockets. Someone’s shoved the carpet-wrapped corpse off to the side, and the Silver Prince sits in the now-upright armchair, his elegant posture at odds with the blue blood on his boots. Tension hangs in the air and in the men’s steely expressions. I get the sense that I’ve walked into an argument and the echoes have only just faded.

The Silver Prince levels his gaze at me—not suspicious exactly, but curious, evaluative. He saw Brekken and me together in the ballroom. Does he remember us holding hands, or the way Brekken stepped protectively in front of me?

I can’t let my mind stray to Brekken now, or I won’t be able to think, or figure out what to do next. I lean against the wall, trying to focus on the feel of cold stone against my shoulders, as Sal takes his leave, saying something about moving more staff to guard duty, so people are watching the juncture at all times.

“How do we shut the door?” I hear myself say, once it’s just Graylin, Willow, the Silver Prince, and Marcus’s unconscious form left in the office.

Everyone turns to me. I don’t like the looks on their faces. From stricken (Willow) to scared (Graylin) to pitying (the Silver Prince), they all look like they know something I don’t. I zero in on Graylin, the most familiar face in the room—except for Marcus, that is, but he’s still out cold.

“Graylin, you’re a scholar.” I hate the edge of pleading I can hear in my voice. “Annabelle and her forces closed the Solarian door a hundred years ago, after the first attack. How did they do it?”

I don’t think he has an answer. I can tell from the dismay on his face, but I need to hear him say it.

“We don’t know,” he replies quietly. “No one knows.”

My knees go weak. I press harder against the wall to stay upright, tears burning behind my lids. Part of an Innkeeper’s job is to keep meticulous records of everything. I’ve lost count of how many times Marcus has impressed that upon me. “How is that possible?”