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When she looked up, she found herself in a dark cellar. The floor was packed dirt with a path of cobblestones leading to a simple wooden ladder, rungs tied in place with thick rope.

Dozens of candles burst to life, illuminating this new small space. Horano whispered another phrase in Gaelic. The dirt beneath them trembled, sprouting tiny blades of green. Grass spread in an emerald sheet, softening the floor.

Horano rested her sleeping son on the cushiony bed, pressed to his feet, and dusted off his pants as she dropped toher hip. “I’ll return shortly. Stay here.” His glowing gaze pinned Moira squarely. “Do you understand?”

She nodded, her mouth dry. When he arched a brow, she found her voice to utter a squeaky, “Yes.”

Horano cast a skating glance over Bryce before he flipped his hand. A faint crease formed over his brows, followed by what sounded like a disgruntled Gaelic curse, before he rushed up the ladder and disappeared through a trapdoor.

She didn’t fool herself into thinking the click of a lock was anything but a lock to keep her in. She stared up at the wooden ceiling, following the path of hurried footsteps as Horano crossed the floor. Another door closed, followed by silence except for natural creaks of the foundation, tiny whimpers from Terrek, and strange, hollow whispers inside her head.

“I know, babe. I know. You’re learning fast about the magic running in your blood,” she cooed to her restless son as she smoothed Chase’s hair from his eyes. As her nerves settled, she looked at Bryce. Her sister’sanam caralay supine, no signs of waking imminent. “I really hate this.”

Minutes slipped by. Terrek settled in her arms until his eyes fluttered and closed. She fought to hide her growing distress as those strange voices, the whispers she swore echoed inside her head, intensified in volume and urgency. Fear had a flavor, pungent and sharp, in the back of her throat. Terror had an internal sensation that defied the typical goosebumps or fight-or-flight. This was different. It was a sensation that stirred dark and heavy in the pit of her gut, spread throughout her chest, and pumped through her body with each beat of her heart.

A sensation that seemed to define her even though she understood it was not her own.

Carefully, she placed Terrek’s swaddled body on the softgrass and stood up, trying to make sense of where they were. The candles burned bright, those closest to the ceiling flickering in drafts filtering through thin cracks between the wooden boards. Horano was comfortable enough with this place to bring them here, which led her to believe it might very well be the basement of his shop.

Moira swiped the back of her hand across her forehead, then fixed her hair into a knot on top of her head. After a quick inspection of her lower belly—nothing more than a faint pink line remained of the emergency cesarean, and any residual pain had fled a few hours before—she took to the ladder. Just in case. Sure enough, her hypersensitive hearing had not deceived her. Horano had locked the trapdoor.

“Ugh. Wish I had some magic to bust through that thing.”

Bracing her hands on the ceiling, she balanced on the ladder rung and tried to see through one of the narrow cracks. Darkness. Sighing her frustration, she climbed down the ladder and surveyed the small basement. The walls were rock, like the cavern’s, boasting nothing of significance.

Nothing, except the eerie vibration of energy.

The hum of that energy tingled over her skin, bringing her hairs to stand on end. Straightening her shoulders, she crept closer to the nearest wall. Gingerly reached for the cool, jagged rock.

Screams and cries assaulted her senses. She cringed and tried to pull her hand away, but it was as if her fingers stuck to the rock. Sank into the rock. Something pulled at her arm, sucking her into—no, no, through—the wall. She smacked her free hand against the wall, trying to pull herself back.

Blackness swallowed her whole as she disappeared from the basement room and found herself…floating in blackness. Cries, screams, whispers filled the dense air, surrounding her with panic, terror, and calm.

“Hello?”

Even as the word left her lips, she heard it deep inside her head. It echoed inward.

Scrios! Scrios! Scrios!

Moira twisted, her body moving like she was swimming under water. Her clothing floated around her, swaying in invisible currents. Currents, she realized, that moved like ghosts in the night.

She froze, her awareness heightened. Soft, airy movement circled her, unseen. A presence.

Slowly, moving only her eyes, she tried to trace the movement. Even in the blackness of this strange space, she caught vague wisps of deep gray swirling in the blackness.

Her heart thumped painfully hard in her chest.

Where the hell was she?

Siochain, Moira. Siochain.

She tried to swallow, but her throat had gone dry. Whatever was inside this place knew who she was. Knew her name.

The lightest caress brushed across her cheek.

She jerked around, following the touch.

And came face-to-face with a gray, white-eyed apparition. There was no definition in its face, only that it appeared humanoid. Every muscle in her body stiffened.