Page 54 of Soul of Shadow #1

The six of them leaned forward, peering down into the hole. Inside, they could see only darkness—and a small patch of stone floor illuminated by the moonlight. Within that patch, they also spied the hatch: now shattered into three large chunks.

“Well,” said Mason cheerfully, looking up at the others, “if they didn’t know we were coming before, they certainly do now.”

The hatch led to a long tunnel, built entirely of smooth stone blocks. It glowed orange from the torches lining its walls and steadily sloped downward. From the way Charlie’s ears started to pop—she could only assume it was leading them beneath the lake.

“How does no one know that this place exists?” whispered Abigail as they walked, trying to keep their footsteps soft. It was a losing battle, given that the huge Vikings’ feet were about as quiet as those of a rhinoceros. “It looks ancient. Surely someone would have stumbled upon it at some point.”

“Most humans don’t even make it past that fence,” Charlie whispered. The v?tte scampered along beside her feet, barely able to keep up with their quick pace. “If this place is as important as it looks, I would bet there are additional spells beyond the ones that protect Elias’s house.”

“Like what?”

“I mean, think about it.” Charlie looked over her shoulder to check on the Vikings.

Their huge bodies took up nearly the entire tunnel; she thought Bjorn might even be stooping slightly.

She turned back to Abigail and asked, “In the past, whenever we toyed with the idea of crossing the fence, what happened?”

“My good sense got the better of everyone,” Abigail said.

Charlie huffed out a laugh. “Maybe. Though I doubt your wisdom was enough to keep someone like my brother from going anyway.”

“Damn right,” whispered Mason.

“So, why didn’t you ever go?” asked Charlie.

Mason was quiet for a few footsteps, considering. Then, right as the tunnel began to level out, curving slightly to the right, he said, “Whenever we were about to go, I just got this… bad feeling. Like something awful would happen if we went over that fence. And the others always agreed with me.”

Charlie pointed at her brother. “That right there. I bet it wasn’t a coincidence.”

Abigail was aghast. “You’re telling me that magic can influence our emotions?”

“Of course it can,” rumbled Vidar from behind. “That’s the least of what it can do. ”

The group drew to a halt. They had reached the end of the tunnel—a rather abrupt end, with only a blank wall before them, no door or window in sight.

A foot in front of the wall, there stood an empty pedestal, chest high and made of the same stone as the floor of the tunnel.

Carved into the center was the same symbol that they found on the hatch: Loki’s symbol.

“Did we walk in the wrong direction?” Bjorn asked, scratching his head.

“There was only one direction to walk,” said Abigail, bending over to inspect the wall. “It’s a dead end.”

“Maybe,” said Charlie.

“Use your knife,” said Mason, pointing at the Valkyrie blade still in Charlie’s hand. “We can cut our way through.”

Charlie eyed the blade doubtfully. There was no way it could be so easy. That the blade could be a cheat code enabling them to get wherever they wanted. Still, it was worth a try.

She raised the knife over her head and drove it into the wall.

Or, she would have—if the tip of the knife hadn’t frozen less than a millimeter from the wall.

Charlie grunted, trying to force the knife forward, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s stuck,” she said through gritted teeth. “There’s some sort of force keeping it from touching the wall.” With a sigh, she relaxed her arm, bringing the knife back down to her side.

Vidar and Bjorn each took turns trying to slam their own weapons into the wall, always to no effect.

“So, what do we do?” asked Mason.

“I could chop up the pedestal here,” said Bjorn, pointing at it with his sword. “See if there’s anything inside.”

“Violence isn’t always the answer, Bjorn,” said Charlie, tur ning to scan the pedestal. There was nothing atop it, save the shallow etching of Loki’s symbol. She ran her fingers along it, looking for some sort of groove or indentation. “Sometimes it’s more complicated than that.”

“I’ve never disagreed with a statement more,” said Bjorn, but he stuck the sword back into its sheath.

“Maybe there’s a latch or button,” said Mason, dropping to his knees on the stone floor and starting to feel around its base. “Some way to open it up.”

“It’s a good theory.” Charlie bent over to help her brother. She started at the top, feeling around the rim for any hidden clues. “This is Loki’s domain, and he’s known as the god of mischief and trickery. This is probably some sort of test. Some way to prove your worthiness.”

“A test?” asked Abigail, suddenly intrigued.

When Charlie glanced at her friend, she saw the competitive gleam light in her eyes.

“Well, then. We should cover all angles.” Abigail walked over to the cave wall and felt around its stones.

When the Vikings made to join her, she nearly jumped in fright, scooting over a few feet to give them some space before returning to her task.

They worked for a few minutes in silence. Charlie made her way around the pedestal from the top, Mason up from the bottom, until their hands ran into each other in the center.

“Nothing?” Mason asked.

“Nothing,” Charlie said. “We should check the floor—”

“Guys,” said Abigail.

Charlie and Mason looked over. Abigail, eyes wide, pressed her fingers to an indentation in the wall. A low thud and click sounded, and the pedestal began to vibrate .

Abigail’s lips spread into a victorious smile.

“Figuring out how to get into an ancient god’s temple doesn’t earn you extra points on the SATs,” Mason reminded her, but Abigail only stuck out her tongue.

Together, the six of them gathered around the pedestal and watched as it shook.

Charlie lifted the v?tte from the floor and placed him on her shoulder so he could have a better view.

Atop the pedestal, the snakes carved into its surface began to move.

To slither and slide, as if the carvings in the rock were living things.

As their bodies moved, they seemed to pull open the top of the stone platform.

Charlie, Mason, Abigail, and the Vikings stared in wonder as a low rumble sounded from the platform.

Two panels slid open on its surface. The one to the right was tiny, maybe an inch across, and had been covering a small keyhole set into the stone. The one on the left was much larger. It slid open to reveal a deep hole from which an object began to rise, like a spaceship in a sci-fi movie.

The object was small and box shaped, made of glossy wood that stood out against the dark stone of the tunnel.

As it rose to the surface, Charlie saw that its lid was covered in complex geometric patterns: diamonds, triangles, flowers, crosses.

The shapes were arranged in long stripes that formed no obvious pattern.

The sides, too, were all distinct, covered in different shapes and designs.

Charlie recognized the object immediately.

At the same time, she and Abigail whispered, “It’s a Japanese puzzle box.”

They looked at each other in surprise.

“How do you know that?” Charlie asked.

“Me?” said Abigail, sounding slightly offended.

“I was o bsessed with puzzles growing up. I solved the Rubik’s cube for the first time when I was like, five, and my dad and I would always do the morning crossword at the kitchen table in our New York apartment.

As I got older, he started bringing home more and more elaborate shit for me to solve.

We made a game out of it. Like, what’s the most obscure puzzle he could find online, and how long would it take me to figure it out.

We did everything. But the himitsu-bako—the Japanese puzzle box—that was always my favorite. ”

She raised an eyebrow. “How do you know what it is?”

“The himitsu-bako is classic sleight of hand,” said Charlie. “The sliding panels, the magnets, the hidden compartments…” She shrugged. “It’s like a tiny version of a magician’s stage.”

“I didn’t understand ninety percent of what came out of your mouths just now,” said Mason, “but it sounds like, between the two of you nerds, we should have no problem solving this box thing? And getting the key that is presumably inside?”

Charlie and Abigail looked at each other again. Together, their mouths spread slowly into identical grins of mischief.

“Oh, yeah,” said Abigail, reaching for the puzzle box. “We’ve got this.”

She picked it up, turning it over once in her hands. “Right. So. To start, you look for any gaps or seams in the wood that indicate sliding panels.”

“There.” Charlie pointed at the side of the box to a spot that, to the untrained eye, would look like a smooth, unbroken square inlaid with repeating stars. Half an inch down from the box’s lid, however, there was a subtle line in the wood. “Try that.”

Abigail pressed her thumb to the wood and pushed it to the right. Like magic, a section of the wood slid open .

She glanced up at Charlie. Their grins grew.

And they were off.

Abigail found a latch on the other side of the box.

Charlie found a section of wood that could be pushed in like a button.

They worked in sync, bouncing ideas off each other, marking panels to come back to if they couldn’t be opened yet.

Charlie knew she shouldn’t be having fun, that it was wrong to enjoy herself when their best friend was in grave danger, probably just beyond that wall, but she couldn’t help it.

It felt good, working together like this with Abigail.

Combining Charlie’s skill at sleight of hand with Abigail’s brilliant mind.

They had the box open in under five minutes—exceptionally fast for a himitsu-bako with over twenty steps. When Abigail triggered the final lever, a drawer slid out of the box, revealing a small golden key with a green tassel.

“Ta-da!” said Abigail, picking up the key and waving it by its tassel. “Easy peasy.” She winked, then stuck the key into the keyhole and turned it to the right.

Charlie felt a little better knowing that Abigail had clearly been enjoying herself as well.

The tunnel began to rumble. Charlie, Mason, and Abigail exchanged looks that were two parts terror, one part excitement.

The Vikings stared straight forward, weapons held at the ready.

The v?tte tensed on Charlie’s shoulder. If she could read his mind, she guessed that she would find him preparing himself to turn back into that crazy gremlin Tasmanian Devil, in case things went sideways.

The dead-end wall groaned until, at last, a crack appeared at its center.

Like a sideways mouth drawing slowly open, the two halves of stone wall rumbled apart, moving inch by inch until the crack became a slit, and the slit became a skinny opening, and the skinny opening became—

Elias .

He stood on the other side of the doorway.

A body made of shadow, golden storm clouds for eyes, eerie smile pointed directly at them.

Charlie’s heart seized in her chest. After everything he had done—lying, using her, hiding that Sophie was still alive, setting draugar on her—she would have thought that all she would feel looking at him was hatred.

Pure, unbridled loathing, perhaps even a drive to violence.

And those feelings were there. The anger, the hatred, the desire to punch him straight through his intangible face—it was all there.

But there was something else, too. A sort of tug. A yearning. A thickness in the air between them, as if the tunnel were filled with invisible smoke. It clogged her throat, her chest, the base of her stomach. It should have made her sick.

But if she were being honest, it made her feel exactly the opposite.

“Hello, Charlotte,” he said. “Welcome to the beginning of the end.”