Flashing forks of magical power streak like lightning across the door. It’s still live-wired, crackling with surplus energy.
I sag, panting, against the wall for a moment, trying to catch my breath. It takes a while for the room to stop spinning.
When I can finally gather myself, I raise my head and look round. The vault is…surprising. I’d been expecting something high-tech, like everything else at Magecorp, but this room looks like a gothic, arcane library.
The walls are brick, laced with lichen and artfully distressed with age. An illusion, perhaps? The floor is polished hardwood, with magelights embedded into it at regular intervals. Like reverse spotlights, they shine upward, illuminating the still air with a muted golden glow.
There are small wooden pigeonholes lining one wall, each containing a single scroll. A low-pitched hum slithers below my skin and up my spine, and as I move into the room the air thickens, heavy with potent magic. So overpowering that it becomes more and more difficult to breathe.
Everything here is antiquated, as though I’ve stepped right back through time, except for some electrical cords and plugs hanging from the ceiling and one that circles the perimeter of the room. I remember from studying magical history that Magecorp has been in existence, in some shape or form, since as early as the Middle Ages. It wasn’t called Magecorp then, of course, and ownership has changed hands several times because of corporate buyouts and business mergers—but the company secrets have been passed down through many iterations.
I approach cautiously. My feet disturb the silence, sending dust motes spinning into the filtered light. There is so much information here, sequestered into the Magecorp vault. Where the hell do I even start?
Quickly, I tap a message out to Harrisford on my strap.What should I be looking for?
The message swooshes off, but less than a second later a big red dot appears on my screen.Message failed to send.
Of course. Percy had warned me that the room’s security would cut off human-familiar communication. I can only imagine that it interferes with telecommunications, too. Sighing, I reach out to finger one of the scrolls. All I can do is start.
Quickly, and silently, I pull out one scroll after another, unrolling them, flattening them, and snapping pictures on my strap. They’re mostly plans, maps, and blueprints of what I presume are magical machines, and even if I understood it all I wouldn’t have time to properly decipher them. My bag slips off my shoulder; annoyed, I hoist it back up.
At least if I have some photographic evidence, then I’ll be able to scrutinize them properly, maybe with Harrisford’s help. How much has he picked up subconsciously, just from being the Magecorp CFO’s son? It’s possible that he’s heard snippets over dinner tables; absorbed information without even knowing it.
I take pictures of as much as I possibly can before moving farther into the room. There’s a central, circular structure—a room within the room—made of what appears to be reinforced concrete. Another steel door is fitted into it, this one curved and flush with the wall. There’s a sort of subliminal pulsing emanating from inside, as though there’s something contained within that’s not meant to be seen by outside eyes.
With a shaking hand, I reach out and try the door handle. Miraculously, it turns, and the door swings open with no noise or resistance at all.
Immediately, I squint, for inside the room is a painful, blazing glow. The glare is coming from something in the center of the circle; I shield my eyes, the webbing of my fingers glowing red as I move closer.
It’s some sort of rock, radiant with a pulsating light. The exteriorof it is all pockmarked, but not irregularly like the moon. It’s more like a uniform honeycomb pattern imprinted on its surface. It’s not just the rock’s appearance, though, that has me all flustered. It’s also…a feeling. It’s like…it’s calling to me. As though it’s putting out feelers, trying to burrow beneath my skin, trying to get inside my mind and learn everything about me.
It’s exquisite and horrible all at once, and I feel as though I’m frozen, rooted to the spot. It’s almost as if I can’t look away.
But then I notice the shadow of something: a man with almost-white hair, steel-framed glasses, and a receding hairline. The man is standing near the glowing rock. And even though the details of his face are hazy, silhouetted against the glare, I recognize his profile instantly.
Darghan Briggs.
Harrisford’s father is here. With me. In this room.
My scalp tightens. Cold dread drenches my body. My heart begins to pound, flooding my entire vision red. It can’t be true, because Harrisford told me he’d be out of town, and—
Fury snaps into place. Harrisford must have lied. This is a trap. The arsehole must have lied to me to trap me up here with his killer dad. But for what? Is it to sacrifice me to the cause—use me to figure out what’s behind the surges while saving his own slimy skin? Or was the investigation just a ruse, something he used to gain my trust, and he’s actually been working with Magecorp—and his father—all along?
I don’t have time to ponder it; all I know is this is bad. Very bad. And if I ever get out of here, then I’m going to fucking kill him.
Trying to not make any noise, I immediately start backing away. When I reach the curved steel door, I turn to flee.
I don’t make it far, though. I skid to a stop in front of the outer door—the one that I’d failed to open with Harrisford’s giftedresigniospell. It’s still sparking, brimming with unspent power.
Desperately, I try to contact Percy, but there’s no response. I tap out a message to Heloise too—just one word:HELP—on the off chance that being near to the door might allow a single message to slip through. But straightaway the red dot appears again and I grind my teeth, panicking.
There’s only one thing I can do, and that is brave the electric hum of magical charge still flashing across the door.You’ve done it once, I tell myself, taking a steadying breath.You can do it again.But would I survive a second shock?
Either way, I don’t really have a choice.
Raising my palm, I go to push on the door, intending to make my escape through it.
I haven’t quite touched the sparking metallic surface when I feel a hand twist in my hair. My entire body jerks back. I thrash and struggle, kicking out, trying to claw back to the door, but Darghan Briggs’s hold on me is relentless, and he continues dragging me back into the room.
