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Despite the dozens of people set in stone beside him, he appeared utterly lost and alone.

I shuddered. I knew the feeling. I’d spent most of my life trying toburythat feeling. And something about looking at this man brought it rushing to the forefront of my mind with a quickness that took my breath away.

I forced my gaze to Orin. “King Argoth?”

“Indeed.”

“He built all of these shrines, didn’t he?”

“So it’s said,” Orin replied. “All intended to bring him closer to his beloved, dead queen. It took him several tries to create the first one that properly opened into the Underworld, however. After he managed to open that first path, he went back to the shrines he’d previously attempted to build, making them functional as well, and continued to build upon the road on the other side—a road they all lead to.”

“Nocturnus.”

“Yes. The temple we stand in now is the last one he built, but the first one to succeed at his ultimate goal.” His voice was somber, his expression more serious than I’d ever seen it. His eyes misted over as he swept them around the dilapidated space. “Quite a miserable state it’s fallen into, isn’t it?”

He didn’t seem to be expecting an answer; he looked lost in his own thoughts. I wondered at the breadth of those thoughts and the memories he had—how many times had he visited this shrine, and others like it, when it was still a functioning throughway?

So much had changed in Eldris over the past century, alone. And I shuddered to think about the changes to come, should the King of Light go unchallenged in my kingdom.

I searched for something to say to soften the mood, but I came up with nothing.

Orin inhaled a deep, rattling breath—one that reminded me, again, of how old he truly was. “It’s time, I suppose,” he said, his gaze lingering on my new bracelet for a moment before jumping up to my face. “Trust yourself. And don’t be afraid of your darkness. Your magic will protect you, if only you let it.”

I nodded, even as I fought the urge to recoil. I didn’t want to be reminded of that darkness within me; I merely wanted to use it to get through what I needed to, and then go back to my usual survival method of pushing it all down deep enough to ignore it.

“Nova, seven years ago, when I first offered to take you in…” He trailed off, fidgeting with one of several rings on his gnarled fingers, swiping at what looked like spell-ingredient residue underneath the gold band.

I let out a nervous laugh. “We don’t need speeches, Orin. This isn’t goodbye forever.”

“I just wanted to say…”

“I know. I’ll be fine.”

“Yes. Of course you will.” He molded his mouth into a forced smile and rolled up the sleeves of his patchwork coat. With a quick wink, he said, “Now, stand back and watch me work.”

I stepped aside as he moved toward the corner where the strange doorframe stood. Once he was facing it, he reached into the bag slung against his hip. He pulled out a small jar sealed with cork and twine and started to carefully open it.

Humming a tune under his breath, he swiped a finger through the violet-colored contents of the jar, and then he proceeded to mark the bricks within the frame.

For several moments, nothing happened.

Orin closed his eyes and whispered something under his breath.

A deep rumble vibrated through the room; I couldn’t tell if it was coming from inside or outside of the shrine, but it made both Phantom and me jump. I braced a hand against the table while Phantom curled behind me, pressing into my legs, his ears flat against his skull.

We watched as a spinning vortex of black and grey appeared in the center of the bricks, swallowing up the marks Orin had painted.

Another rumble. This time, a cold breeze swept through the room along with it, leaving the taste of ash and decay on my tongue when I breathed it in. The colors on the bricks continued to spin for a few beats before stretching into a more defined image, one that flickered and seemed to be a glimpse of a realm beyond—a shadowed landscape filled with jagged mountains and swirling mist.

I blinked, and the scene was gone.

In its place was a door.

It looked perfectly average and unassuming, as though it had always been there. The longer I stared at it, the more I found myself questioning how I’d missed it before.

A sudden, unseen force grabbed at my body, pulling me forward.

Before I could lose my nerve, I reached for the silver handle in the door’s center and pulled it open.