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“I am the Child. Now, follow me, my sisters are waiting.”
I am not sure if following her is the wisest decision, but perhaps these sisters will have water. And food. Maybe a safe place to rest for an hour or two. I stumble after her, and after several yards, the girl vanishes before my eyes. I spin around, but she is nowhere to be found.
“Cassian of Valderán, please, follow me.”
My jaw scrapes against the dusty ground when I turn toward the voice. Now, Snow White is an adult, maybe twenty. She stands strong and sure, her beauty blinding. I struggle to force down the lump in my throat.
“And you are?”
She turns, beckoning me to follow. “I am the Maid.”
As with the Child, as soon as we’ve walked several yards, she vanishes. Before me stands a similar cave to the one Anansi hid in. A frail voice calls out to me, “Cassian, lost prince of Granton, enter.”
Stepping through the arch, my eyes take a moment to adjust to the darkness within. A single torch sputters and flares against the cave wall. The Child and the Maid stand beside an old woman who I recognize from the village.
She winks at me with Snow White’s eyes, huffing a laugh at my surprise. “Well met, lad. I am the Crone, and with my sisters, are the Oracle that you seek.” I sway on my feet, and the Crone gestures toward a large rock. I take the offered seat, my gaze swinging between the three.
The Child and Maid step back, revealing a cauldron behind them. It’s squat and wide, steam curling from its surface. Pushing myself to my feet, I step forward, brows lowering when I get a better look at it. It’s made from some kind of dark metal that seems to devour any light that touches it. The rim is flattened, covered in runes, almost identical to the scrying bowl Beast has.
“You have seen something similar before,” the Child states.
I incline my head. “Yes, in the Beast of Granton’s castle.”
She waves a hand over the cauldron. Neon-blue lightning streaks across the surface, culminating in tiny sparks. The opaque liquid inside clears, and I watch as the Child begins to speak.
“Many years ago, long before even Silas and Elspeth were born, or their parents before them, a sorceress was created.” The cauldron shows me a stunning woman, magic flowing around her. “She was corrupted by the power within, became dark and vicious. Those that got in her way were annihilated.” The scene changes, showing great massacres and suffering. “The cries of the dying were heard by the All-Father, Odin, who sent his son Baldr to investigate. Baldr was never seen again.”
The Child lowers her head, a tear running down her cheek. “Odin’s wife, Frigg, was devastated when her son disappeared and blamed the sorceress. She sent the Valkyries to collect her soul.” The cauldron shows me seven women riding magnificent horses through the sky. I have never imagined such, and I observe in fascination as the women and horses descend toward a dark castle built up against the side of a mountain. “Unfortunately, the sorceress had been informed of their impending arrival and stole the horses away. The Valkyries were weakened without them, and they too vanished. Like Baldr, they too have never been seen again.”
The Child retreats into the shadows, and the Maid steps forward. “In the far northeastern corner of Valderán, nestled amongst the Regency Mountains, you will find Snow White sheltering in Monarch Glen. Magic hides the cottage from prying eyes, but beware—Morana has commandeered thousands of ravens to seek her out. Should she step out of the boundary line, she will be found.”
The Maid whispers words over the cauldron, and a scroll rises from within it. “Take this map, Cassian. It will show you the way.” I reach out and grab the scroll, tucking it into my bag.
A low buzz of excitement begins to spread throughout me. Finally, after all these years, we will be reunited. The Maid steps back to join the Child, and the Crone, for the second time, whacks me over the head with her stick.
“Pay attention, lad.” I scowl, rubbing the small lump quickly forming on my scalp. Her face is serious, but her eyes sparkle with mirth. “Morana will not be easily defeated, her powers are too great. You must find the horses and return them to the Valkyries.”
My brows lower. “If they haven’t been seen in generations, how am I to find them?”
The Crone rolls her eyes. “Did the Maid not just present you with a map?” She raises the stick again threateningly, and I swing out of her way. “Pay attention!”
“Yes, ma’am,” I reply sheepishly, ducking my head.
The Crone sighs. “Children,” she mutters under her breath, shaking her head. She murmurs over the cauldron in a language I do not understand, and this time, a sheathed dagger emerges. “Do not lose this,” she states, gesturing for me to add it to my bag. “You must use it to shatter the glass from the inside. If you do not, all else will fail and Morana will control all of Restüra.”
I rack my brain. “What glass do you speak of?”
“From the inside, Cassian. You must break it from the inside.”
With that, the torch sputters out and the cave descends into darkness. “Wait!” I call out. “What glass?” There is no reply, and I sigh deeply. Stepping forward blindly, waving my hands in front of me to act as my eyes, I feel—nothing. The cauldron that was in front of me moments ago is gone. Moving to the wall, where I remember the torch being, also nets me nothing. The stone wall is bitterly cold, with no remnants of warmth remaining from the fire.
Turning away, I trip over the rock I had been sitting on, landing heavily on my knees. I find my bag, but it’s heavier than it should be. I manage to get it open, feeling around inside. My flask is full, and I find a loaf of bread and dried meat wrapped in a cloth, along with a woolen blanket.
I fall on the food like an animal, tearing into the bread. I’m more careful with the water, knowing I must conserve it until I can find more. When I’ve sated my hunger and thirst, I curl up on the cold ground, pulling the blanket over me.
I’m out before my head hits the earth.
Thefeelingoftinylegs crawling over me startles me awake. Little spider eyes stare into mine, and I grimace, flicking it off me. It scuttles off into the shadows while a shudder works down my spine.
