hesitated, but only for a moment. With my knives still faithfully hidden within my boots, I figured I could defend myself. Whatever these creatures were, judging by the mana they yielded, they were clearly alive. And that meant a blade could deter them, if the need arose.
Close on Lucian’s heels, I entered a room identical but smaller than the last. It was definitely brighter, though. I could actually see the Night Terrors this time, standing in the archways dotting the walls as if they were a honeycomb. The creatures were uncommonly tall, painfully skinny, thin-haired, and with sagging jowls. Their skin glowed from within, white, like alabaster, and their eyes lit with an inner-brilliance unseen on Earth.
A table with a large gray stone stood in the center of the room. The stone was unusual, vying for my attention as if it were alive, calling for me to touch its rough, unpolished surface.
The sound of a creaking door diverted my attention to the arrival of another Night Terror. He was just like the others. Sallow. Thin. Wearing a cowled homespun robe and holding a lantern in his hand. His glowing eyes were gold and extra bright.
“Greetings, Lucian Rowle,” the Night Terror intoned ominously, his sagging cheeks jiggling a little.
“Keeper of the Old Wisdom,” Lucian addressed him with a respectful bow.
The Keeper held his lantern aloft, allowing the light to fall over my face. “And who is this?” he asked in a deep voice.
“My spell-finder,” Lucian replied as he looked at me with his fine brows furrowed. “Cassidy. Cassidy Edwards.”
The Keeper glided to hover before me and extended his hand as if to touch my forehead with his palm, but I wanted none of it. Instinctively, my hand shot up to knock his away.
“No,” I said.
It wasn’t going to happen. Be he a Night Terror or not.
Slowly, the Night Terror smiled. “Join us,” he whispered, his voice holding a promise. “You could become a Night Terror like the world has never seen.”
I blinked at the unexpected invitation.
“Pretty certain I already am one,” I answered dryly, thinking of my few lame attempts at relationships in the past. One of my hands on their chest too long, and they’d run screaming from me as fast as they could. Who could blame them?
The Keeper merely smiled. “There is still time to decide,” he promised. “Much time.”
He turned to Lucian then, and moving to one side of the table, they put their heads together and began to whisper. I could hear scattered fragments of their conversation: Dorian. Chosen Ones. Digging. Only a few hours left.
I glanced up at the archways studding the walls, each with a Night Terror standing in the threshold. With their cowled hoods pulled back, they looked like big glow sticks in the dark.
Bored, I sidled closer to the stone on the table. It was some kind of stone pillar, almost two feet tall and about a foot in circumference. At the head, I could see a series of intricate Celtic circles, but they were faded. The stone seemed very old.
I reached out to touch it, and my hand was only a couple of inches away when I felt the mana. It was incredible. Pure. Somehow, it was bathing the stone. I simply had to touch it. But as my finger brushed the small pillar with the lightest of touches, the stone fell back with a loud crash.
Quickly, I tipped it upright again, surprised to discover it weighed no more than a feather. How had the dang thing made such a racket?
I knit my brows into a frown.
“The stone is heavy for some and light for others,” the Keeper’s voice whispered by my side.
He stood next to me then, his thin face split into an eerie grin. Behind him, Lucian watched me with his feet splayed wide apart and his arms crossed. I couldn’t interpret the expression in his piercing eyes.
The Keeper waved his hand in front of my face to capture my attention. “Put your ear to the stone, Cassidy,” he invited, pointing to the Celtic carvings with his long, skinny finger.
Close on Lucian’s heels, I entered a room identical but smaller than the last. It was definitely brighter, though. I could actually see the Night Terrors this time, standing in the archways dotting the walls as if they were a honeycomb. The creatures were uncommonly tall, painfully skinny, thin-haired, and with sagging jowls. Their skin glowed from within, white, like alabaster, and their eyes lit with an inner-brilliance unseen on Earth.
A table with a large gray stone stood in the center of the room. The stone was unusual, vying for my attention as if it were alive, calling for me to touch its rough, unpolished surface.
The sound of a creaking door diverted my attention to the arrival of another Night Terror. He was just like the others. Sallow. Thin. Wearing a cowled homespun robe and holding a lantern in his hand. His glowing eyes were gold and extra bright.
“Greetings, Lucian Rowle,” the Night Terror intoned ominously, his sagging cheeks jiggling a little.
“Keeper of the Old Wisdom,” Lucian addressed him with a respectful bow.
The Keeper held his lantern aloft, allowing the light to fall over my face. “And who is this?” he asked in a deep voice.
“My spell-finder,” Lucian replied as he looked at me with his fine brows furrowed. “Cassidy. Cassidy Edwards.”
The Keeper glided to hover before me and extended his hand as if to touch my forehead with his palm, but I wanted none of it. Instinctively, my hand shot up to knock his away.
“No,” I said.
It wasn’t going to happen. Be he a Night Terror or not.
Slowly, the Night Terror smiled. “Join us,” he whispered, his voice holding a promise. “You could become a Night Terror like the world has never seen.”
I blinked at the unexpected invitation.
“Pretty certain I already am one,” I answered dryly, thinking of my few lame attempts at relationships in the past. One of my hands on their chest too long, and they’d run screaming from me as fast as they could. Who could blame them?
The Keeper merely smiled. “There is still time to decide,” he promised. “Much time.”
He turned to Lucian then, and moving to one side of the table, they put their heads together and began to whisper. I could hear scattered fragments of their conversation: Dorian. Chosen Ones. Digging. Only a few hours left.
I glanced up at the archways studding the walls, each with a Night Terror standing in the threshold. With their cowled hoods pulled back, they looked like big glow sticks in the dark.
Bored, I sidled closer to the stone on the table. It was some kind of stone pillar, almost two feet tall and about a foot in circumference. At the head, I could see a series of intricate Celtic circles, but they were faded. The stone seemed very old.
I reached out to touch it, and my hand was only a couple of inches away when I felt the mana. It was incredible. Pure. Somehow, it was bathing the stone. I simply had to touch it. But as my finger brushed the small pillar with the lightest of touches, the stone fell back with a loud crash.
Quickly, I tipped it upright again, surprised to discover it weighed no more than a feather. How had the dang thing made such a racket?
I knit my brows into a frown.
“The stone is heavy for some and light for others,” the Keeper’s voice whispered by my side.
He stood next to me then, his thin face split into an eerie grin. Behind him, Lucian watched me with his feet splayed wide apart and his arms crossed. I couldn’t interpret the expression in his piercing eyes.
The Keeper waved his hand in front of my face to capture my attention. “Put your ear to the stone, Cassidy,” he invited, pointing to the Celtic carvings with his long, skinny finger.
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