Cloak of Night (Circle of Shadows #2) - Evelyn Skye Page 0,37
legend. There really isn’t much about it.”
“But you’ve heard of it?” Sora asked.
“Oh yes, of course I’ve come across it. Legend has it that Zomuri buried his treasure deep inside ice caverns, at the bottom of a lake enchanted to give anyone who touched its waters horrible nightmares. Those greedy enough to try to break into the god’s vault will see visions of the worst versions of themselves. The hallucinations are so vivid, people either drown as they get lost in them or drown themselves out of despair for who they think they’ll become in the future.”
A chill ran down Sora’s spine. So Liga had been wrong about the vault not being protected against mortals.
“Do you think those stories are true?” Sora asked.
“Perhaps.” Mama shrugged as they walked into her study. “I believe that mythology stems from a combination of truth and fantasy. Most storytellers are not so creative that they can invent tales from whole cloth. They begin with reality, then embellish it.”
Sora chewed on her lip as she thought about that.
Mama climbed a short ladder so she could reach her top bookshelf. She coughed as she retrieved a dusty box.
“There might be something in here,” she said, setting the box on her desk. Mama began to flip through the notebooks and papers inside.
Sora gave her space to work. Soon enough, Mama pulled out a small journal the size of her palm. “This is what I was looking for. I used to carry it in my pocket when I was a university student. That was the only time I did any research around the topic of the Lake of Nightmares.” She handed the journal to Sora.
Inside, Mama’s neat cursive filled the pages. There were notes on all sorts of random things, like a snapshot of her young mind and its many interests before she found her calling in retelling Kichonan legends. There were a few pages on imperial coronation fashion through the ages, a section with doodles of griffins and an idea for a short story, and a page with her monthly budget as a student. Sora smiled at this insight into Mama’s life.
Then Sora found what she was looking for. On a tea-stained page, Mama had jotted some notes about a single historical account from a man who had purportedly found the Lake of Nightmares and returned to tell about it.
- Party of 10 went in; all died but 1.
- Magnetic fields in the ice tunnels. Party split up, and half got lost, never heard from again.
- Ghost faces and snow monster.
- Lake will keep you if you step foot in it.
Sora flipped to the next page. There were a bit of poetry and another griffin doodle but nothing more about Naimo Ice Caves or the Lake of Nightmares.
“Is this all you have?” Sora asked.
“Yes,” Mama said. “That’s why I never bothered to write a story about the lake. There’s not enough information out there.”
Papa barreled into the study then, carrying a tray of small blue cups and a sake carafe in his right hand and a box with orange cups and matching carafe in his left. “Do you think your teachers would like blue or orange better?” he asked.
“You stupid man!” Mama said, snatching both the tray and box away from him. “The Society is too important and busy to care about your pottery. Can’t you see that our daughter was just trying to give you something to do so you’d feel important while she took care of the real reason for her visit—discussing her school project with me?”
“Your arrogance is out of control!” Papa shouted. “Ever since you were awarded that prize for literature, you think you’re the greatest living mind in the kingdom!”
“You’re lucky I deigned to marry a pea brain like you!”
“I seem to recall you admired me when we first met. My family have been master potters for centuries—”
Sora watched sadly. “I’m sorry I can’t help you right now,” she said, even though they couldn’t hear her over their own yelling. “But I’m going to stop this madness as soon as I can. Everything will be better then. I promise.”
Her parents didn’t even notice when she ducked out the door and left the house.
Half a mile down the road, she met Broomstick, who had somehow procured horses for them and just turned the final bend in the switchback. He was covered in dust and sweat, and he looked like he could have used a good meal and bath at her parents’ house.