Oz pulled the book. The floor panel twisted open, and they descended the narrow staircase into the dank, dark space below the library. Oz glanced around, then dragged his fingertips along the hallway as they walked. His fingertips left trails in the perspiration on the wall, the damp stone cold to the touch. No books here. If they’re hidden in the hall, it’s more than an illusion that hides them.

Blue flames lit ahead of them, lighting the way. The chains clanked. Even before they could see him, Fenrir’s voice boomed out of the darkness. “You can talk to me whenever you want, but you still need to visit me in person? I thought I’d finally got rid of you.”

“No such thing as getting rid of me. As long as I’m in charge, this cave of yours won’t stay empty,” Oz promised, walking into the main chamber.

Before him, the magical circle entrapping Fenrir glowed in the same pale blue, casting Fenrir in deep shadow. The flames reached Fenrir, illuminating him one torch after another. The same as before, he hung there, scraggly fur draped over his shoulders, antlers almost scraping the ceiling.

Fenrir chuckled. He shook his head. “You fool.”

Linnea slid into the room, cringing behind Oz.

Fenrir craned his neck. His eyes landed on Linnea, and he smiled. “Oh, and the little spider came, too. Don’t worry. Even if I was starving, I wouldn’t eat an arachne as tiny as you. You’re so small, you don’t even count as a bite.”

Linnea swallowed. She nodded and moved closer, but stayed behind Oz, warily eyeing Fenrir’s claws.

“Last time, you brought three. Today, only one. Have your fortunes so diminished?” Fenrir murmured.

Oz rolled his eyes. “Aisling was busy, and Roan is an asshole, who cares.”

Fenrir smiled a small smile with closed lips.

Oz cleared his throat. “Fenrir, I know you aren’t the most forthcoming, but are Madame Saoirse’s dark magic tomes hidden down here with you?”

“Now, I wonder why you would ask such a thing,” Fenrir murmured, showing a single fang.

If he isn’t outright denying me, that means I’m going the right direction. Oz walked toward the wall. Still cold. Still damp. He pursed his lips. There has to be something magical hiding them, if they’re back here. Something I haven’t yet discovered.

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

He closed his eyes and circulated his qi. His breathing slowed as he entering a meditative state. Slowly, he opened his eyes.

All the light in the room burst in his eyes. Scintillating auras spun slowly around the bright blue flames. He turned. The shackles around Fenrir’s wrists glowed bright gold. Thick ropes of gold qi lifted off of Fenrir’s body and vanished, half absorbed into the earth, half chaining up into the sky. They twisted together, twining almost into a massive tree, with Fenrir caught in the middle. He stared, entranced. Beautiful.

“Oz!” A firm hand caught his arm.

Oz turned. Linnea stood there, her body overlaid by intermingling purple and green light. She shook her head. “You almost stepped over the boundary of the circle!”

He looked down. His toes edged up against the outer line of the magical circle. He stepped back. “Sorry.”

“Nothing to apologize for. I was almost free,” Fenrir rumbled, amused.

Oz took a deep breath. He trained his eyes on the wall, searching. If there’s magic, then, with this eye Madame Saoirse gave me, I should be able to see something!

The wall stretched before him. Torches flickered, the magic that powered them bright in his eyes, a brilliant orange counterpoint to the blue-colored flames. A small magic circle behind the stones powered each torch, the torches’ spells themselves encircled in a broader, room-span circle. Nothing else. No strange mechanism or hidden switch. Simply the lights, Fenrir, and the faint traces of grayish qi in the stone.

Oz squinted. No qi? Was my guess wrong?

Unless… Lifting his hand, he pointed at the nearest torch and sent a mote of qi its way. The torch went dark, and the segment of larger magic circle that connected it to the rest dimmed as well.

Fenrir chuckled.

“Oz, what are you doing?” Linnea asked, stepping toward him.

“Finding Madame Saoirse’s hidden dark magic collection,” Oz declared.

“By turning out the lights in the room where she tied up the dangerous jotunn?” she asked again, her voice pitching up a little.

“You can head back upstairs if you’re afraid.” Oz took aim at the next torch. Another flame winked out.

“Are you sure this is the answer?” Linnea backed away, uncertain.

“Nope.” Another torch went dark.

“Oz, are you really playing with the magic Madame Saoirse set up in the barrier’s foundation?”

Oz paused, pointing at yet another torch. “You know, when you put it that way…” He fired his finger gun, and another torch flickered down.

“Oz!” Linnea backed up to the door, where the torches still lit the way.

He shook his head and kept going. Would Madame Saoirse really make a spell so delicate that turning off the torches would destroy her barrier? I really doubt that this is the way to destroy Fenrir’s shackles and release the barrier spell.

Only one torch remained. Linnea glanced over her shoulder, on the verge of making a run for it. “Oz, please…”

Oz pointed at the final torch. It hissed out. Except for the glow of Fenrir’s circle, the entire chamber laid in pitch darkness.

Stone ground on stone. The walls trembled. Dust rained down from above as the whole chamber shook. Oz stumbled where he stood, barely keeping his feet.

Fenrir chuckled, slowly growing louder. “At last…”

Linnea squeaked in horror and ran for it, leaving Oz behind.

Oz swallowed. He backed away. There’s no way… right?