“What is this place?” I ask as I turn in another circle, taking it all in.
“Your real birthday present.” This makes me laugh, but when he turns to face me, I realize he’s dead serious. “I needed a place to keep my research.”
I raise a brow. “Research? On what?”
“Our family.”
My heart rises in my chest. I watch as he brings a torch to one of the marble columns, then another, then another. Only when I mimic his movements do I realize that there are dozens of metal emblems secured onto each one. He’s taken care to only light specific ones, which each emit a different color—purple, green, orange, red. My concentration is broken as he yanks my arm and brings me back to the middle of the circle.
“What are we . . . ?”
My voice trails off as awe sets in. The stones on the outer side of the marble columns begin to rattle and shake, shifting left and right, up and down, until the top of another structure is revealed. It glides through the opening in the ground, rising until it’s towering over us.
Haskell releases my arm, motioning for me to stay back. He checks the sturdiness of the structure before angling his head. “Follow me.”
I do as he says, making sure Juniper stays close, but seeing as she’s on my heels, I don’t have much to be concerned about. Instead of descending, like we had when we’d first entered the enclosure, we’re now climbing dozens of stairs. I gaze upward at the spiral staircase and how it seems to go on and on. Part of me wishes we had access to the walkways I’d discovered in Orihia.
When we finally reach the top, I’m winded and my legs ache. Haskell also seems to have a hard time catching his breath, which makes me feel a bit better. Before the dots floating in and out of my vision have a chance to become permanent, I pull my canteen from my belt and guzzle half of the container. Instantly, I feel better. As I go to wipe my mouth with the back of my hand, my eyes are drawn to the expansive room in front of me. It appears to be a library of sorts.
I bite down on the inside of my cheek to maintain my composure, but on the inside, I feel like a giddy child. If I thought the library in Orihia was incredible, this library is . . . miraculous. Bookshelves, from floor to ceiling, wind around the entire room. There are cabinets with glass doors containing trinkets, artifacts, and other specimens that I can’t wait to get my hands on. A multitude of wooden desks with ancient carvings donning the legs hold maps, globes, and rolls of parchment.
But what catches my eye, even from across the room, is a hanging frame. I walk over to it. Pulling both my watch and the folded up photograph from my back pocket, I hold the latter up to compare the two images. Sure enough, they’re exactly the same.
A photo of the King’s Savant.
The sensation of warm breath on my neck has me whirling around. I immediately take a defensive stance, only to find Haskell jumping backward with his hands in the air, palms facing me. His eyes flick to the frame on the wall, to the photo in my hand, then to me.
“Our father,” we both say simultaneously.
I straighten my knees to bring myself to a normal standing position as Haskell lowers his hands.
“Did you know him?” I whisper.
He gives a solemn shake of his head.
“Was this place . . . ?”
“His?” Haskell lifts his gaze skyward before scanning the room. Slowly, he returns his attention to me. “I have reason to believe so.”
My breath hitches. With so many questions swarming my mind, I can’t seem to formulate a coherent response.
“About a year ago, I found this place—or I suppose you could say I was guided here. At first, I’d been afraid to enter. I could hardly see anything, even in broad daylight. Every day since, I’ve come back to it.” He strokes his beard, deep in thought. “At one point, I’d even convinced myself that it was a death trap. When I finally worked up enough nerve to venture inside, I nearly tumbled down the hundreds of steps. With just a torch and a blade, I started to discover that it wasn’t just a bottomless pit.”
“How did you know to light the columns? That they’d reveal”—I gesture to our surroundings—“all of this?”
He shrugs. “I suppose you could say I was shown.”
I wait for further clarification on what he means, but suddenly realize I don’t need it. I know exactly what he’s referring to—because I experienced something similar in the Roviel Woods, when my father had appeared and given me his pocket watch. I angle my head at the frame on the wall. “Were you, by chance, guided here by a glowing orb?”
Dumbstruck, his jaw drops. “Yes.” He narrows his eyes. “How did you know that?”
“When I departed Trendalath for a mission, I left this behind.” I hand him my pocket watch. “Long story short, before arriving in Sardoria, I had a similar encounter with a glowing orb, except”—I struggle to find the words—“my orb transformed into something—two men. They seemed to appear out of nowhere.” I scan the photograph and point them out so Haskell can see. My voice lowers to a whisper. “Did you see our father, too?”
He continues to stare at the framed photograph for some time. I remain silent until his eyes shift to mine, emerald meeting emerald. He drops the pocket watch back into my hand. “No. Just the orb.”
His curt tone is enough to indicate that I’ve struck a nerve. “I’m sorry. It wasn’t my intention to—”
He squeezes the bridge of his nose, then sighs. “It’s fine. I’m not mad at you, Arden. I’m just confused, that’s all.”
That would make two of us. “Do you think he’s alive?”
Haskell merely shrugs. “Your guess is as good as mine.” His answer is disheartening, but not at all surprising.
“Haskell, he obviously wanted you to know about this place, whatever it is.” I walk toward the center of the room, peeking down the endless aisles of shelves as I go. My thumb steadily traces the engraving on the watch. “What exactly is all of this?”
“I think it’s a collection of”—he pauses, as if unsure how to describe it—“things our father may have found important. There’s not much family history—nothing I’ve uncovered anyway. As you can see, there’s a lot to go through.”
“How far have you gotten?”
“Not very.” He swipes his hand along one of the shelves, then presents the heavy layer of dust covering his hand for emphasis. “Honestly, I’ve been pretty close to giving up. I’ve pored over what feels like hundreds and hundreds of texts, but haven’t learned anything of value.” His jaw clicks to the side. “Or maybe it’s all of value and I just don’t know what I should be looking for.” He falls into a nearby chair. “Wanna have a go at it?”
As soon as he asks the question, I understand how he feels. The thought of looking through all of these books is daunting, to say the least. But I’m convinced the glowing orb isn’t a coincidence. Our father has been trying to communicate with us—to tell us something—albeit I don’t know what.