Risens approached the door set into the left side of the wall that would lead him to the Under and into the unknown. There was neither a handle nor a keyhole on the door’s face, only the solid decorative panel. Another part of the quest, it seemed. From just outside the door to the tumbledown structure, Mother Raven watched in judgment as he pushed to no avail. His attempt failed immediately, as the panel didn’t budge.

  He stepped back, his rapid gaze darting across the small chamber. In the Roost, failure to access the trial chambers had been met with pain. After a few anxious seconds, he was relieved to see the room remained unchanged. No punishment came beyond the pointed glare of his guide, who sought justice for his insufficiencies.

  “Perhaps you don’t even listen with your ears,” she said.

  He eyed her, then looked down at his hand.

  The Quillkey had not merely been etched into his skin for show. The Brand of Avowal granted him access to the Roost. The feather tattooed onto his hand was required for entrance into the Barren and the Under. Holding out his palm with the newly marked finger toward the doorway, he shifted it to the side, moving from right to left.

  As if the panel mirrored the motion, it shifted. Sliding silently on a hidden track, it disappeared into the wall, revealing the open void into the realm beyond. Repeating the action in reverse, he closed the door. The result was gratifying.

  Opening it again, he peered into the still blackened face of the portal. Like the others he’d been accustomed to crossing, no hints of the spaces beyond were distinguishable through the impenetrable shadow.

  With a heavy breath, he strode forward into the unknown.

  The crushing speed, pressure, and endless cold of the portal between Windwake and the Roost were familiar. Stepping into the darkness here, similar sensations and discomfort flooded his body. The sudden jolt of unquestionable speed—strong enough that he felt as if his very frame teetered on the verge of being torn apart—preceded the crush of pressure that compressed him like a vise. In a flash, he was frozen by an unbearable chill. The thawing, like shifting between Halthome and the Roost, started from the Brand in his chest. Though this time, it was not centered on the initial Brand, but radiated from all the markings.

  As soon as the discomfort ebbed, he stepped out of the portal to the realm beyond. Risens had no expectation of what he would find beyond the black void of the doorway, though the sight before his eyes was a surprise.

  Mother Raven’s cryptic statements had stressed the hidden connection between all things. His mind had painted a picture like the Roost. He had wondered whether the black stones that dominated the hallowed hall’s construction would be present, though his speculation was immediately disproven.

  Again, Risens stood on a scrap of land floating in a sea of blackness. The space here was smaller than the Barren, stretching less than fifteen meters in diameter. Where the void that surrounded the realm he’d just departed was clear, the Under was littered with jagged chunks of land and stone. They circled overhead and below, as if some violent cataclysm in days long past had torn the world asunder before spreading it amongst the inky sky. He was thankful for his balance and his lack of fear of heights, as the motion and the bottomless void plunging into nothingness a few meters from where he stood were disconcerting at best.

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  The only feature of note was at the center of the suspended island. A circular structure rose from the ground, surrounded by concentric rings of colored stones set into the ground. The building appeared to be composed of natural rock, the sides smoothed to a dull sheen, radiating the sparkle of minerals within. Around its base, the outermost ring, a dull grey, was the lightest; the others darkened as they neared the building. As a result, the strip that bordered the rounded wall was pure black.

  Risens could see only one door leading into the building. Beyond its threshold, no details could be made out as the light failed to penetrate the darkness within. Around the outside of the structure, the remaining space of the floating island was covered with a fine carpet of neatly maintained green grass.

  But maintained by whom?

  The color was vibrant. The contrast with the muted earthy tones of the stones and the black void was alarming. It seemed that the vegetation was the only thing alive in the great expanse that ringed him. The color was so alive and healthy that it eclipsed the withering yellows and browns that he’d grown accustomed to seeing throughout Windwake. The drought that gripped the city and Kingdom of Halthome had been as fierce as it was unending.

  Looking back over his shoulder, he confirmed that the portal he had entered through remained. There was no fixed frame binding the black, merely the wavering darkness that hovered over the pristine grass of the floating island.

  He could feel the draw, the attraction, the allure pulling him toward the opening of the structure, like the power that emanated from the doors locked within the halls of the Roost. That there was power lurking here, he was certain.

  Risens approached tentatively. Though he wanted to run into the darkness within, to grasp its secrets and its power, returning to Windwake stronger than he’d ever been, caution dictated his steps. Instead of charging headlong, he made a slow, deliberate circuit of the small structure first.

  The building was round, with no openings beyond the front doorway. He craned his neck to peer along the sloping, conical roof. Like the wall, it was smooth, constructed of what appeared to be natural stone. The peak angled to a wicked point several meters above its origin. Viewing it from afar, it looked like the spike of a massive spear that stabbed up from the ground.

  The stone’s solid, natural striations left no gaps, protecting the interior from the elements. He had nothing to back up his claim, though he doubted the Under, wherever it resided, would share the kingdom’s lack of rain.

  Risens stopped again as he reached the central opening to the rounded building.

  The lure of the power had only intensified as he neared the entrance. The anxious, excited energy that surged through him when he realized the infinite strength that awaited him within the Roost again tugged at his senses. Concealed somewhere in the interior lurked true power. He had no idea what it was, though the mystery was intoxicating.

  It took only a moment of observation to grasp the reality of the darkness beyond the doorway. Risens was sure that he stood before another portal of some design. He guessed that it was like the doorway that brought him from Windwake to the Barren, though he would find out soon enough. Looking back over his shoulder, he cursed as he noted the opening that had led him to the Under had vanished. Panic started to set in.

  Was he now trapped here?

  Settling his racing heart, he considered the implications. The portal delivered him here for a purpose. He had been sent here to complete a task, one that he had no intention of backing out of. Glancing at his hand, he inspected the elaborate marking of the feather that covered the entirety of his index finger. Tracing the shape of a door with the Quillkey, he was surprised to find that nothing happened. After several failed attempts, he gave up as the reality became apparent. Hispurpose—whatever it was—would need to be fulfilled before he was granted a return to the Barren.

  With no other option, he strode forward.

  The draw was overwhelming.

  The warnings of Mother Raven rang in his ear. “Power and danger.”

  His hands fell to the feather-wrapped hilts of the Raven Talons.

  Expecting the irrational urge for bloodshed and violence, the shiver of fear that emanated from the blades was startling as the shadows of the void swallowed him.