dripping of the ice melting from the ceiling. Because of the way the torches danced and created shadows, I kept seeing monsters getting ready to jump out at me.
“I think I see something,” Behast whispered.
He met my eyes and pointed ahead. I nodded and he vanished from my side, disappearing into the darkness and circling around to our target. Because of the fire cradled in my hand, if there was anything out there, it would be drawn to me.
I crept forward, my body tensing, wanting to unleash the magic I had built up. When I thought I was close enough, I pushed the fire in my hand forward, illuminating the area.
Behast leapt out at the exact same time and yelled, raising his sword.
We froze when we saw what it was. I grinned at the bones of a cow Cynder had eaten, trying my best not to laugh.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Sometimes the light and the darkness play tricks on your eyes.”
Behast glowered at the pile of bones. He sheathed his sword and stomped away. As he passed, I glimpsed a small smile spreading across his face.
We all met back in the main tunnel. No one had found anything. There were no signs of creatures or tracks, nothing that was out of the ordinary. We trekked down the rest of the long tunnel.
I sighed as my eyes traced over the stony walls. I had loved living here, but now there was a dead feeling. There was no life or joy—only the moaning of the wind and the constant dripping of melting ice. Cynder seemed to notice it too, as he stomped forward with his head hung low.
The cave ended with a human-sized doorway. Cynder plopped down and curled himself up into a ball. I expected him to say a quip, but he was silent.
The door to the room was open. The others stepped in, but when Jastillian got to the entrance, he stopped. He ran his hand along the edge of the doorway and bent down, squinting at it.
“What’s wrong, Jastillian?” I asked.
“The design of these caves looks familiar. Did Stradus ever say who created them?”
I shook my head.
“It looks dwarven constructed, but we would not be this...sloppy,” he grumbled. “I haven’t read or seen any records of dwarves being in the White Mountain.” Jastillian stepped through the doorway and waited with the others.
I went to Cynder and asked, “Are you all right?”
He opened one eye and grunted. “I’m fine. Go do what you have to do. I’ll be here if you need me.”
I turned to leave, then paused. “I miss him too.”
“You would.” Cynder’s mouth twisted into a small smile. “Now go, and scream if you find anything.”
I walked through the doorway, half expecting a magical detection web to flash with its presence. There wasn’t one, of course. Stradus was dead and his magic with him. Webs were spells similar to what spiders wove, called so because of the magical threads used in their construction. They could be used to alert someone or keep something out.
I entered the small, comfy room and stared at the hearth. It was empty and cold, just like the room. The place wasn’t the same without Stradus’s guidance, his wisdom, his lessons, his presence, his magic. My eyes wandered around the room, remembering all the memories we’d shared.
My hands traced the wood grain of the stool where Stradus had once sat. He always seemed to have a kind and inviting face while we ate and chatted. I ran my fingers over the cold teapot on the table, grinning at how he always drank tea, no matter the time of day.
“Hellsfire,” Prastian said, tapping me on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m…just remembering things.”
I went to the closed door of Stradus’s old room. While I had explored most of the White Mountain complex, there was one place I hadn’t been in—Stradus’s old room. He’d had a web around it that not even I could undo without him noticing.
“Everyone stay here,” I said. “There’s something I must do.” I pointed to the open doorway at the other side of
“I think I see something,” Behast whispered.
He met my eyes and pointed ahead. I nodded and he vanished from my side, disappearing into the darkness and circling around to our target. Because of the fire cradled in my hand, if there was anything out there, it would be drawn to me.
I crept forward, my body tensing, wanting to unleash the magic I had built up. When I thought I was close enough, I pushed the fire in my hand forward, illuminating the area.
Behast leapt out at the exact same time and yelled, raising his sword.
We froze when we saw what it was. I grinned at the bones of a cow Cynder had eaten, trying my best not to laugh.
“Don’t worry about it,” I said. “Sometimes the light and the darkness play tricks on your eyes.”
Behast glowered at the pile of bones. He sheathed his sword and stomped away. As he passed, I glimpsed a small smile spreading across his face.
We all met back in the main tunnel. No one had found anything. There were no signs of creatures or tracks, nothing that was out of the ordinary. We trekked down the rest of the long tunnel.
I sighed as my eyes traced over the stony walls. I had loved living here, but now there was a dead feeling. There was no life or joy—only the moaning of the wind and the constant dripping of melting ice. Cynder seemed to notice it too, as he stomped forward with his head hung low.
The cave ended with a human-sized doorway. Cynder plopped down and curled himself up into a ball. I expected him to say a quip, but he was silent.
The door to the room was open. The others stepped in, but when Jastillian got to the entrance, he stopped. He ran his hand along the edge of the doorway and bent down, squinting at it.
“What’s wrong, Jastillian?” I asked.
“The design of these caves looks familiar. Did Stradus ever say who created them?”
I shook my head.
“It looks dwarven constructed, but we would not be this...sloppy,” he grumbled. “I haven’t read or seen any records of dwarves being in the White Mountain.” Jastillian stepped through the doorway and waited with the others.
I went to Cynder and asked, “Are you all right?”
He opened one eye and grunted. “I’m fine. Go do what you have to do. I’ll be here if you need me.”
I turned to leave, then paused. “I miss him too.”
“You would.” Cynder’s mouth twisted into a small smile. “Now go, and scream if you find anything.”
I walked through the doorway, half expecting a magical detection web to flash with its presence. There wasn’t one, of course. Stradus was dead and his magic with him. Webs were spells similar to what spiders wove, called so because of the magical threads used in their construction. They could be used to alert someone or keep something out.
I entered the small, comfy room and stared at the hearth. It was empty and cold, just like the room. The place wasn’t the same without Stradus’s guidance, his wisdom, his lessons, his presence, his magic. My eyes wandered around the room, remembering all the memories we’d shared.
My hands traced the wood grain of the stool where Stradus had once sat. He always seemed to have a kind and inviting face while we ate and chatted. I ran my fingers over the cold teapot on the table, grinning at how he always drank tea, no matter the time of day.
“Hellsfire,” Prastian said, tapping me on my shoulder. “Are you all right?”
“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m…just remembering things.”
I went to the closed door of Stradus’s old room. While I had explored most of the White Mountain complex, there was one place I hadn’t been in—Stradus’s old room. He’d had a web around it that not even I could undo without him noticing.
“Everyone stay here,” I said. “There’s something I must do.” I pointed to the open doorway at the other side of
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