Unhooked(78)

“Well, that was—”

An earsplitting crack shatters the eerie silence and drowns out the rest of what Rowan says. His arm tightens around me as the hilly land echoes with the reverberations of the noise, but otherwise, the world is still completely motionless and quiet.

Afraid to move, we both search for some indication of what caused the sound, but at first nothing seems different. Then I see what is happening.

“The falls,” I whisper.

They aren’t coursing as they once did. Instead, the water level is steadily dropping, exposing jagged steps in the rock as it drains away. As the last bit of water trickles down, it reveals a dark crack splitting the mountain in two. As we watch, the fissure steadily grows, traveling down the center of the rock, like the dark lines traveled across the skin of the boy on the ship.

The island rumbles again as the rock behind the falls begins to move apart, cleaving into two halves and exposing a dark crevasse. The remaining water of the falls drains into the yawning hole in the mountain, and the water left in the clear pool beneath the falls is also draining away, running back into the place where the island split itself apart.

Rowan’s arms are still tight and protective around me as we watch, until all that’s left is the dark, muddy bed of the lake and a wide, deep wound in the land.

I stare at the gaping fissure, horrified and awed by what I’ve managed to do. “Do you think that’s it?”

“There’s only one way to be certain.” He releases me and offers his hand. “If you’re ready?”

I’m not. I thought I was, but just looking at the dark gash in the rock makes my skin prickle in warning. Still, this is what we have come here for. This is what I demanded, and if Neverland answered my call, we need to see what it’s trying to show us.

I take his offered hand, and Rowan leads the way out into the mucky basin of the falls. We avoid the gaping crack that runs down its middle as we make our way across it, toward where water had once cascaded down the mountain. Toward the place where the island has opened itself to us.

The ground of the lake bed is soft, but the brittle bodies of fish crackle beneath our booted feet when we step on them, popping and snapping as we go. Each tiny body I destroy seems like another threat, and another reminder of what we stand to lose.

When we reach the other side, the bare, wet cliffs loom above us as the dark split in the rock dares us to enter. Water still drips from the edges of the dark stone in an uneven rhythm

“It could be a trap,” I say as I peer into the dark cave.

“This whole bloody world’s a trap.” Rowan never takes his eyes from the newly formed opening before us. “We’re going to be needing some light, I think.”

It takes him only a moment to find a branch thick enough and strong enough to serve as a torch. He takes his shirt off from beneath his coat and wraps it around the branch. With the tip of his metal finger, he manages to get enough of a spark on one of the drier surfaces to light the makeshift torch. Then he looks at me, nervous anticipation glinting in his eyes. He doesn’t like this any more than I do, but he wants it to be true just as much.

“Let’s be getting on with it, shall we?”

I give him a tight nod and follow his lead into the gaping jaws of the cavern.

Once we’re inside, the air is immediately cooler. We hesitate, both of us waiting and listening for the unmistakable sound of the Dark Ones. But the cavern is silent. There is no scent of moldering leaves, no rustling of far-off wind. The air is thick and wet around us, but it is not dangerous—not yet, at least.

This is no normal tunnel, though—the walls are not the smoothly hewed stone of Pan’s fortress. The walls here are all sharp edges and jutting corners that tell of the violence that created them. We don’t speak as we walk, but my hand slides into his as we make our way deeper into the heart of the island.

Deeper into the mountain, the tunnel grows even narrower. It’s all unexpected switchbacks and hairpin turns that make me feel like we’re going in circles, spiraling farther and farther into the heart of Neverland. My skin prickles with the certainty that at any moment the rock will once again begin to vibrate and rumble, crushing us beneath its weight. But the island remains disconcertingly quiet. The rock around us remains cold and dead.

Finally the tunnel opens, flaring out to reveal a large roomlike cavern that is a dead end. The ceiling is higher here, and it glows like a miniature night sky. Rowan notices the strange starlike lights at the same time I do and raises the torch higher so we can make out what’s causing the effect. Dark crystals embedded into the rock glow like tiny false stars, but they aren’t randomly scattered. There is a pattern to them, like tiny constellations.

Familiar constellations. The crystals in the ceiling form lines and angles that remind me of the runes on my mother’s stones. The runes carved into Pan’s skin.

“This is it,” I whisper, afraid to disrupt the silence around us by speaking too loudly.

Rowan’s face is all grim concentration as he raises the torch from one side of the room to another, searching for some sign that I’m right. “It’s a dead end, Gwendolyn. There’s nothing here save some bits of rock and more dampness.”

My heart sinks, because he’s right—this is a dead end. I don’t know what I expected to find, but there is nothing in this chamber but the glittering constellations above us and the silent rock surrounding us. Still, I can hear the sound of water rushing somewhere not so far off, and air is moving through the passage. It can’t be a complete dead-end.