The mouth of Silvermere Cavern yawned at the water’s edge, its jagged mouth dangling with vines. The crystal clear spring at its feet was glass-still, reflecting the full moon with unsettling clarity.
Arcanus picked his way along the mossy bank, eyes fixed on the cavern’s entrance. The stories spoke of strange things glimpsed in Silvermere’s depths—things he knew better than to dwell on now, when he was all alone in the dead of night.
Why was he here, exactly, when he could be cozy beneath the covers?
A flicker of light in the cavern’s depths stole the breath from his lungs. He should turn back—should run straight to his bed without looking back.
But something inexplicable tugged him closer. He ducked beneath the stone arch, vines trailing over his shoulders like the lank hair of a giant, boots slipping on the damp stone.
That’s when he saw it.
A door stood set into the cavern wall, its weathered surface etched with four faint symbols, gleaming softly in the filtered moonlight. Somehow…he knew.
The door would open, but only when he chose a symbol.