“The Mystik world has seven main wizard havens. The others are in Ireland, Spain, France, Italy, Russia, and South Africa. All are near hidden cities.”
“Okaaay,” I drawled. “I get we’re in England, but what part…you know, can you give me a familiar landmark to go by? Like, say, Stonehenge or something?”
“Well,” he said. “Asile’s true location is kept secret. It’s in another realm and cloaked by magic. The only entrance and exit is the outbuilding we just came from, and the walls surrounding Asile have wards that prevent anyone from venturing past her boundaries. All the havens are the same. There are many labyrinths in the Mystik world and many entries that can lead to traps. It’s a world intertwined with mysteries and dangers. You’d best stay within the walls.”
I stumbled over the beginning of a rocked pathway with tangled bushes and thick grasses choking its borders. I braced myself—hands hitting hard against the ground—and barely avoided smashing my face against the stone. I sprung to my feet, waving Arik’s offered hand away.
I scolded myself as I swiped my stinging palms across my jeans, brushing away the tiny pebbles sticking to my skin. How freaking embarrassing, Gia. He definitely thinks you’re a moron now.
Arik shook his head and snickered. “We should have one of our curers see to your leg.”
“I’m fine. It just needs to heal.” I hobble-trotted ahead, keeping my eyes on the path as I went. His snickers followed me. I glanced over my shoulder at him. There was a playful spark in his eyes.
“What?”
“You’re stubborn, aren’t you?”
“I like to think I’m determined.” I turned back and continued up the path.
Ahead of us, the others stopped at a wooden door in a brick wall surrounding the medieval-looking castle. In the night shadows, the vines snaking up the length of the wall looked like dark invading creatures. Smoke puffing from the chimneys of the small homes at the base of the castle incensed the night air.
Carrig pushed the thick splintering gate open. He waited for us to pass, and then he leaned his weight against the stubborn door to shut it.
We walked into a manicured courtyard. It had several intricate stone walkways cut into its grasses that branched off to the many entries into the castle. Salt-white benches and planters surrounded a circular patio in the middle of the courtyard.
As we approached the main entrance, two stately doors crawled open. Twenty or more men in black uniforms with metal breastplates lined the entryway. A few creatures were in their ranks—some with fangs, some with horns, and some with unnaturally colored skin. I smiled nervously at them as I passed. Not one returned the gesture.
After the black veil of night, it took a moment to adjust to the light of the foyer. A chandelier loomed above our heads, one of its flame-shaped lightbulbs flickering final bursts of life, casting ominous shadows on the walls. A door on the right led to a darkened room.
This isn’t at all intimidating. I wiped my clammy hands on my jeans and wondered, again, what I’d gotten myself into.
Lei stopped beside me. “No need to worry, ducky. It looks scarier than it is.”
“I-I’m not scared,” I protested.
“The look on your face and the quiver in your voice says differently.”
I straightened my shoulders and stuck my chin out, trying to seem less terrified. A massive tapestry of a gray-bearded man holding a smoky globe in his outstretched hand hung high above the stairs. “So who’s the man on the rug?”
“Rug?” Her eyes went to where mine were focused. “Oh, you mean the tapestry. That is the Seventh Wizard, Taurin. He’s the founder of our haven. He’s sort of creepy, isn’t he?”
“That’s an understatement,” I muttered. My ears started to thrum. The tapestry fluttered and turned fluid, ripples rushing down the fabric like wakes across a lake. An electric current forked across the globe cradled in Taurin’s hand, sending out a series of crackles and thunders. His eyes sparked to life and stared directly at me. Goose bumps erupted across my arms. Overhead, the chandelier flickered before dimming. All the voices around me dissolved, and the present faded.
I stood just behind Taurin and right beside a blazing sconce. He balanced an electric ball on the tips of his fingers.
“Stand back,” he yelled at a cloaked figure across the corridor.
“I shall not,” the other man hissed. “Give me the Chiavi, Taurin.”
Chiavi? That’s Italian. It’s the plural form of Chiave—key. He wants keys? For what?