“A hand holding a black sphere, shimmering around its edges with white flame. Henry pressed his forehead against the smooth stone in the sealed doorway. Why had he thought this was a good idea? He flattened his dandelion palm against the door, but his little flame wouldn’t penetrate. He had found a place where a dandelion couldn’t grow. “Henry,” Zeke said. “What do we do?” “Pauper son.” Nimiane’s voice was calm, soothing. “You rouse my ancestors. You disturb their darkness.” Henry blocked her ou...t. He shut his eyes and saw only distant vines, a web of strength, and his own sputtering gold, struggling to reach them. “Henry,” Henrietta whispered. “Do something. The old one’s coming. He’s climbing out of the floor. He’s sniffing.” Henry turned. Coradin was smiling, his stiff black hair on his shoulders. He pulled a long silver blade from his belt. Henry took Henrietta’s little kitchen knife and handed her his flashlight. In the middle of the room, a shape crawled slowly out of the hole.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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