Lost in the Caverns E-Book

Kathryn Butler

• Herausgeber: Crossway
• Kategorie: Für Kinder und Jugendliche
• Serie: The Dream Keeper Saga
• Sprache: Englisch

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2023

Beschreibung

The Dream Keeper Saga, an Adventure Series for Middle-Grade Readers, Continues with Book 3 Twelve-year-old dream keeper Lily McKinley is grieving the death of Prince Pax when, in an instant, he appears by his tomb with a message for her: "Whomever you meet, tell them about what you have seen and heard in this valley. Tell them about what I gave for them, and won for them." Though she feels her powers weakening, she must embark on a dangerous journey through the Desert of the Forgotten to regain her ability to dream and spread Pax's message. This exciting novel, the third book of the Dream Keeper Saga by Kathryn Butler, mixes fantasy with Christian themes, taking middle-grade readers on an adventure steeped in magic, mystery, and glimmers of hope. - Christian Themes: This exciting story invites readers into deep conversations about the gospel and theological issues including sacrifice, salvation, and evangelism - Ideal for Middle-Grade Readers and Families: Includes kids' favorite fantasy and adventure elements with imaginative new characters and settings  - Book 3 in the Dream Keeper Saga by Kathryn Butler  

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“I want to know Pax. With each book he becomes more compelling, and with him, the whole saga. Some series begin with their best tale, then try to muster up sequels. The Dream Keeper Saga gets better with each book. Kathryn Butler wins our trust with her characters, engaging turns, and deeply Christian themes. I’m excited to add the Dream Keeper Saga to our family canon.”

David Mathis, Senior Teacher and Executive Editor, desiringGod.org; Pastor, Cities Church, Saint Paul, Minnesota; author, Habits of Grace

“Two of my favorite things about the Dream Keeper Saga are the character Pax and the almost Mad-Libs-esque imaginative flow, appropriate (even necessary) to a world redeemed from humanity’s collective dreams.”

James D. Witmer, author, A Year in the Big Old Garden; Beside the Pond; and The Strange New Dog

“When was the last time you got lost in a good story? The last time you felt yourself throw off the day’s troubles and sink into a tale for the ages? The wait is over. Kathryn Butler’s beautiful book Lost in the Caverns will draw you in and hold you close. The best news is that it will point your young reader to the greatest story ever told, the redemption story. Prepare to be captivated!”

Erin Davis, author; podcaster; mother of four

“Faith, purpose, friendship, and hope. These themes and more draw young readers into a world where dreams come to life. Lost in the Caverns adds detail and depth as it carries the saga along with its readers.”

Gloria Furman, author, Labor with Hope and A Tale of Two Kings

Lost in the Caverns

Lost in the Caverns

Kathryn Butler

Lost in the Caverns

Copyright © 2023 by Kathryn Butler

Published by Crossway1300 Crescent StreetWheaton, Illinois 60187

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopy, recording, or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publisher, except as provided for by USA copyright law. Crossway® is a registered trademark in the United States of America.

Published in association with the literary agency of Wolgemuth & Associates.

Cover design: Studio Muti

Interior illustrations by Jordan Eskovitz

First printing 2023

Printed in the United States of America

Trade paperback ISBN: 978-1-4335-8778-8 ePub ISBN: 978-1-4335-8781-8 PDF ISBN: 978-1-4335-8779-5

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Names: Butler, Kathryn, 1980– author. | Butler, Kathryn, 1980– Dream keeper saga ; book 3.

Title: Lost in the caverns / Kathryn Butler.

Description: Wheaton, Illinois : Crossway, [2023] | Series: The dream keeper saga ; book 3 | Audience: Ages 9–12

Identifiers: LCCN 2022017687 (print) | LCCN 2022017688 (ebook) | ISBN 9781433587788 (trade paperback) | ISBN 9781433587795 (pdf) | ISBN 9781433587818 (epub)

Subjects: LCSH: Magic—Juvenile fiction. | Dreams—Juvenile fiction. | Imaginary places—Juvenile fiction. | Quests (Expeditions)—Juvenile fiction. | Friendship—Juvenile fiction. | Adventure stories. | CYAC: Magic—Fiction. | Dreams—Fiction. | Imaginary places—Fiction. | Friendship—Fiction. | Adventure and adventurers—Fiction. | Fantasy. | LCGFT: Action and adventure fiction. | Fantasy fiction. | Novels.

Classification: LCC PZ7.1.B8935 Lo 2023 (print) | LCC PZ7.1.B8935 (ebook) | DDC 813.6 [Fic]—dc23/eng/20221003

LC record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022017687

LC ebook record available at https://lccn.loc.gov/2022017688

Crossway is a publishing ministry of Good News Publishers.

2023-03-08 04:13:57 PM

To Jack and Christie.

When you find yourselves lost,

follow the Light.

Contents

  Map

1  A Light in the Darkness

2  Mistwood

3  Empty Halls

4  Whoosh

5  Glower

6  Downriver

7  Memories in Ruins

8  Lost in the Fog

9  Above the Clouds

10  Into the Veil

11  Captured

12  The Dwellers

13  The Furnace Room

14  Brute

15  Into the Mines

16  Magnus’s Court

17  Battle in the Deep

18  The Broken Memory

19  The Uprising

20  The Painted Woodland

21  Alister

22  The Stolen Dream

23  The Desert of the Forgotten

24  Down the Rabbit Hole

25  The Princess and the Wyvern

26  Wendell

27  The Lairs of the Forgotten

28  The Lost Girl

29  The Dream Catcher

30  Battle in the Sand

31  The Lost Prince

32  Beginnings and Endings

Chapter 1

A Light in the Darkness

Lily lingered beside Pax’s tomb as the moon rose. She could still feel the hot, foul breath of the shrouds in the air around her, a reminder of how they had encircled her and mocked the fallen prince. She shivered and remembered how the gloom of the Blight had rolled back and the Realm bloomed with life again, scattering the shrouds like scraps of burnt paper. Barth was restored to human form. Scallywag was healed. Keisha and Adam had gone home, but Lily had decided that her place, for a time, was in the Realm. She was an artisan, and she would rebuild what the Blight had broken.

She placed a hand on the cool glass of the tomb. The moonlight cast a pearly sheen over the valley, lighting up the new flowers and trees as if they were fireflies. The beauty of it crashed against her pain like waves against the shore. I know you’re still with us, Lily thought, pushing back tears. Although I wish I could see you.

Suddenly a great crack like thunder split the air, and the ground shook. Lily stumbled backward and shielded her eyes as the tomb glowed, its glass branches sprawling like white lightning against the night sky. A fracture split the tomb from top to bottom, and light pierced through and flooded the valley, bathing every petal and blade of grass in daylight.

The glare stung Lily’s eyes, as if she’d gazed for too long at the sun, and she hid her face in the crook of her elbow. The warmth of a spring morning suddenly chased away the chill. Music drifted on the wind, and Lily strained to hear. Are the winds singing? As if in answer, a breeze tousled her hair, and the voices sang barely above a whisper. They are! The winds are singing! Though she didn’t recognize their language, their song played in time with the deepest strummings of her heart.

As the light softened, Lily raised her head. The radiance had ebbed from the reaches of the valley, and night again crowded around her. A cold glitter of stars shone above. Then the source of the light snapped into form.

“Pax!”

The great unicorn reared skyward, his horn slicing the night like a new blade drawn from its sheath. As his hooves struck the ground, Lily fought to steady herself against the tremors that rattled the earth. His light stung her eyes, like the glare of daybreak reflected off a lake. With tears streaming down her face she rushed toward him, threw her arms around him, and buried her face in his neck.

“Don’t cling to me, young artisan,” Pax said with a laugh.

She fumbled to untangle her fingers from his mane. “I thought you’d died,” she whispered. “I thought you were gone forever.”

“I did die, dear one. But forever is under my authority.”

“But how—”

A clatter interrupted her, and they turned to see Isla standing at the entrance to her home, her eyes wide with shock and a clay bowl of blackberries broken at her feet. At the sight of Pax she dropped to her knees. “Forgive me, lord,” she said.

Pax strode toward her. “Rise, Isla.”

“I am unworthy. You died because of my wickedness. The draught, the Blight, I had a hand in all of it.”

“I took the Sovran Merrow’s draught willingly, Isla, for you and for all the Realm. I paid the penalty.” He nuzzled her. “You are forgiven, Princess Isla.”

Isla stood, her eyes shimmering, and wiped the tears from her face. A smile broke through, and she gazed at the unicorn in wonder.

“Shall we dine now?” Pax said.

Isla’s face fell. “Oh, of course, my lord. But we only have what my brother and I could gather from the forest, and it’s not much.”

“It’s more than you think. Go and see.”

Pax guided them through the laurel-trimmed doorway of the cottage. They entered a kitchen, where roots and dried herbs hung in clusters from a ceiling of latticed willow boughs. A row of terra-cotta bowls filled with nuts and berries awaited them on a bench, and a fire crackling in the hearth bathed the room in a golden glow. Lily’s gaze flitted over these delights for a moment, before a heavy oaken table in the center of the room drew her eye. There, heaped atop silver platters, sprawled the most magnificent feast she had ever seen. Pyramids of fruit rose toward the ceiling, roasted meats and vegetables perfumed the room with rosemary and sage, and a basket overflowed with fresh bread from which tendrils of steam still coiled. In one corner a cake decorated with strawberries nestled among pastries, cookies, and the most beautiful blackberry pie, with a crust carved in the shapes of doves and stars. In another corner, Lily spotted a plate overflowing with spaghetti and meatballs and a glass dish filled exclusively with purple jelly beans. Her favorite.

Isla appeared from behind and gasped, then reprimanded her younger brother, Rowan, who had already drawn a chair up to the table and was tucking into a bowl of raspberry custard. The young lad froze when he saw Pax, a spoon with a blob of pink custard suspended in air.

“Good evening, Prince Rowan,” Pax said. “May I dine with you?”

Rowan gaped at him.

“Rowan, answer!” Isla whispered.

Before he could reply, something scuffled by Rowan’s feet under the table. He sprang back, his spoon clanged to the floor, and the dish followed, splattering pink custard all over the lace tablecloth.

“Get out, you grubby beast!” Rowan yelled, swiping at something with his foot.

Philippe the rabbit bounded out from beneath the table, his top hat clutched in his front paws. “Pardon, monsieur! I am sorry to intrude! It is just that when I saw the carrots I could not resist. They are candied in syrup, no?”

“Get out!”

“Rowan!” Isla said.

“He’s stealing our food!”

“He’s our guest!”

“Our guest? He’s a filthy rodent!”

“Prince Rowan, do not deny the rabbit his place.” Pax stepped into the room, his radiance drowning out even the glow of the firelight.

“I didn’t invite him,” Rowan said between clenched teeth.

Pax’s gaze hardened. “Yet I did invite him. And whomever I call always has a place at the table.” With these words a chill wind swept through the cottage as if churned up from a gale over the sea. Rowan’s cheeks flushed, and without a word he rushed from the room.

“Espy, please,” Isla called after him, but he ignored her and tromped out.

Lily slouched toward her jelly beans during the argument. She wanted to ask what the nickname “Espy” meant, but decided to keep mum. She felt the sting of Keisha’s absence; the right words always seemed to come more quickly to her newfound friend with the notebook at her hip.

Pax nuzzled Isla’s cheek. “Do not despair,” he said. “Your brother is astray, but he is not lost.”

“I don’t know how I’m going to help him through this. Our mother was always the only one who could ever reach him,” Isla said.

“Your brother awoke to find everyone and everything dear to him suddenly gone. Such wounds don’t heal easily. But be at peace—they will heal.”

Isla sank deep into thought, and a silence fell upon the room, with only the crackle of the fire and the song of crickets breaking the quiet. As Lily watched Isla, her eyes downcast in sorrow, the last shreds of anger and bitterness she’d once harbored against the princess withered away. She’d hated Isla for betraying her father, but Pax had forgiven the princess for far worse offenses. How could Lily not forgive her, too?

Philippe, a quivering puffball of fur, finally ventured from behind the table. “Merci beaucoup, mon prince,” he said tentatively, his paws trembling and his ears skimming the floor as he bowed before Pax. “Enchanté—”

“No need for formalities, Philippe,” Pax said. “You are most welcome here, as are your friends.”

“Friends?” Lily asked.

Pax nodded, and suddenly Glorf rolled out from under the table. Mortimer the fuzzy turtle joined him, as did Sheila the pterodactyl, who swept upward to roost on a willow bough.

Pax laughed at Lily’s surprise, then invited them to give thanks and eat. They dined in the glow of the firelight as lightning bugs spun streamers outside the windows, and Pax told them old stories of things long forgotten, when the Realm first hatched from the minds of men, and even before, when the waking world had yet to spin on its axis. Lily would pause between bites of pasta to stare at Pax in awe as the images he wove unfurled like banners in her mind. In his presence, the loneliness that always stalked her like a shadow had gone, and for a delicious moment she reveled in a quiet joy. The moment reminded her of the times she’d hunched over a cup of hot cocoa after sledding outside, or when twinkling lights dazzled her on Christmas Eve. At long last, she felt home.

After a while, when the clink of spoons and the chatter of conversation hushed, Lily mustered the courage to ask the question burning in all their minds. “Pax, are you back for good now?”

All eyes turned to the prince. Isla leaned forward, and even Philippe, who hadn’t stopped chewing since Pax invited him to the table, paused his crunching to listen.

“I will always be with you, Lily, but you’ll not see me for a while. I leave tonight.”

Lily’s heart sank. How could he leave already? She opened and closed her fists beneath the table, as if somehow she could clutch the moment in her hands and stop time from tumbling forward.

“My lord, you’ve just arrived,” Isla said, mirroring Lily’s thoughts. “We’ve waited forty years for your return! Must you leave so soon?”

“There are others I must see, others like you who will know me for who I am. Thereafter, I must continue the work given me by our King.”

“The King of the Realm?” Lily asked.

“The King of us all. I laid my life down to save the Realm, but he gave me the power to take it up again. And now I must carry on with his work, to prepare a new place and a new way. To prepare a kingdom where humans and dreams can live together again.”

Lily swallowed a lump in her throat and struggled to sort the thousand questions that jostled through her head. There was so much she longed to ask him, so much she longed to know. Most of all, she desperately wanted him to stay.

“But what about the Realm?” she said, finding no other words. “The Blight destroyed so much. Doesn’t it need to be rebuilt?”

Pax offered a gentle smile. “Everything has its proper time and place. The Realm will be rebuilt, but not all at once.”

Lily fingered the soothstone fragment in her pocket, its contours now so familiar. She remembered her reason for returning, and the thought sparked a flicker of hope. If Pax couldn’t stay, at least she had something to offer in this strange, beautiful world. “I can rebuild it, Pax,” she said. ”I came back because I want to use my powers to help.”

“Indeed you will help, although not in the way you think. I did not bring you back to rebuild, Lily.”

The remark felt like a slap in the face. “I don’t understand. I’m an artisan. I can use my powers to—”

“Yes, you have the gifts of an artisan, and you will use those gifts for good. But I called you back to the Realm after the Catacombs fell for another reason.”

“You called me back?”

He tilted his head to one side. “Didn’t you know? Think back. Why did Cedric come to find you in the school, when Glorf attacked poor Mrs. Higgins?”

“Mrs. Higgins, the lunch lady? You know about what happened in the cafeteria?”

“I know about all of it, Lily. Now, think—why did Cedric come for you?”

“So that I could try to stop the Blight. Sir Toggybiffle sent him to find me, because he thought an artisan could help.”

“And how do you think the professor came upon that idea? The Blight afflicted him terribly, and he could do little more than sleep before you arrived.”

“So, you’re saying you told him to do it?”

“Not in a voice he recognized at the time, but yes, I prodded him.”

“How? I mean, no one had seen you in decades.”

“Lily, you’ve seen the powers the King has given me. Do you think time and space can thwart my work? Toggybiffle thought the idea to seek you was his own, but his inspiration came from my voice.” He stepped toward her, and his gaze deepened. “I brought you back to the Realm for a different purpose than rebuilding, or even than combating the Blight. I brought you back so that you can tell others what you’ve seen.”

“What do you mean?”

“Whomever you meet, tell them about what you have seen and heard in this valley. Tell them about what I gave for them, and won for them. This is the true reason you are here, Lily. You’re here to tell others the truth—that I have overcome the darkness.”

Lily’s throat tightened, and her mouth felt full of sand. I’m good at creating things, not talking! she wanted to shout. She lowered her eyes, but could still feel Pax’s gaze upon her, steady and penetrating.

“What troubles you, Lily?” Pax asked.

Lily shrugged.

“Lily.”

His voice rang with tenderness and thunder all at once. Lily finally answered, although she still couldn’t meet his eyes. “It’s just that I thought I finally had a purpose. I thought my powers, I don’t know, mattered.”

“They do matter, but they are not all that matters. And apart from my words, the things they build are like straw. The slightest gust of wind will blow them apart.”

Lily bit her lip. “I’m not great at talking to people. I always say the wrong thing.”

“Rely on my words and not your own.”

“But what do I say, Pax? How do I know when to say it?

“You will know. Remember, dear one, although you will not see me for a little while, I will always be with you.”

Pax bowed his head, and the tip of his horn gleamed like a tiny star. He gently touched the light to her forehead and then hovered it over her heart. A dozen tendrils of light, like stardust, coiled around her, and suddenly she felt a surge of warmth from her scalp down to the tips of her fingers. A swell of love for which she had no words accompanied it.

The next moment the light faded, and the stardust and the warmth disappeared. “Now I must depart,” Pax said. He turned to Isla. “My lady, if I might have a few words with you outside, I would be grateful.” Then he surveyed the room, all the occupants watching him with transfixed gazes. “I remain with you always.”

Lily blinked through a sheen of tears. “I wish you didn’t have to go.”

Pax nuzzled her. “Always remember, Lily McKinley, that I love those in the Realm, and when its people are lost and hurting and alone, my concern for them grows all the more. Remember that I love you, no matter what storms assail you. I am with you always, and I will return and make all things new.”

Pax bowed his head and strode regally out through the laurel-trimmed doorway with Isla at his side. As his light faded, a chill fell over the room, even with the fire raging. No sound of chewing or silverware broke the calm; all present held their breath.

Finally, Philippe slipped a paw into one of Lily’s hands. “He was magnifique, non?”

Lily nodded and pulled the soothstone from her pocket. A thousand questions churned in her head.

Chapter 2

Mistwood

Lily awoke to sunlight warming her face. For an instant she thought she was at home, and she listened for the snap of bacon sizzling in her mother’s skillet, the hallmark of a Saturday morning. Then the memories from the previous night flooded back, and she bolted upright, sending a flurry of feathers from Isla’s spare down bed twirling about her like snow. She remembered Pax—his words, his presence, that he’d returned after she thought him lost—and her heart thrilled. She pushed open the window above her bed with a creak and leaned out to savor the morning air . . . then rolled out and landed in a holly bush.

As the waxy leaves scratched her arms and her face flushed in embarrassment, she had a flashback to the morning when she tumbled out of her window in pursuit of Rigel, when Sheila and the other creatures escaped the Fortress. That day seemed ages ago, like a hazy dream. As she staggered to her feet and pulled twigs from her hair, Pax’s words turned in her mind. Joy at his return still throbbed within her, but her uncertainty also nagged her, like a splinter worming its way down deep. I’m an artisan, not a speaker, she thought. Why wouldn’t Pax want me to rebuild?

Isla strolled through the grass outside, leaning forward every so often to gather thistle and marigold blossoms and tuck them into a satchel at her hip. Lily brushed herself off and wiped a squished berry from her shoulder. She wore clothes that Isla had given her the night before—a flowy tunic shirt and a lavender cardigan, both several sizes too big and rolled up at the sleeves—and she hoped Isla wouldn’t notice the berry stain on her shoulder. She felt a renewed admiration for the princess, as she had when they first met in Castle Iridyll and she struck Lily as so refined and wise. Lily urged her cheeks to stop burning and tried to act nonchalant as she strode to join the princess on the hilltop.

“Gathering a bouquet for the cottage?” Lily asked.

Isla didn’t look up from her gathering. “Supplies for you and Rowan.” She crouched low to examine the buds that broke through the earth toward a patch of sun. “It’s hard to believe Pax is gone again. Although truthfully, he could stay with us for a thousand years and it still wouldn’t feel like enough time.”

Lily nodded, then drew a breath and glanced around her. The full light of morning now blazed in the valley, draping the meadows in gold and illuminating the snowcaps of the mountains like plates of bronze. “This is such a lovely place,” Lily said with a sigh. “It’s so beautiful.”

“Beautiful, but empty. It’s not the home it was.”

The splinter burrowed deeper. “Maybe I can help with that,” Lily said. “I’d love to give you your old home again, Isla. That’s why I came back.”

Isla raised her eyes. “That’s not what Pax told you last night.”

“Yes, but I still I think I can help here. Just think, Isla, I can rebuild your home, and make it like it was! Wouldn’t you like that?”

“That’s kind, but I don’t think it’s the right way. Before he left, Pax told me I’d find hope for my people if I sought my old soothstone.”

“Your soothstone? Really? But that’s still in—”

“The Cave of Lights, yes.” Isla paused from her harvesting and massaged the finger where the soothstone had burned her after she’d betrayed Lily. “The stone was like an ordinary rock when I left it, and I don’t know if it will ever heed me again, but Pax knows more than I do. I have to try. I’m gathering these flowers and herbs to make some tinctures, so you and Rowan will have supplies while I’m away.”

“But the Cave of Lights is so far away. And what does your old soothstone have to do with rebuilding Mistwood?”

“I don’t know, but it’s what Pax told me. I have to trust him.”

Lily crossed her arms and chewed the inside of her cheek. She knew Isla was probably right, but her own idea wouldn’t leave her alone. “Please, just let me try to do this for you and Rowan,” she urged. “Just think about what it would be like to return to your old home when you get back from your trip! How wonderful would that be?”

Isla studied her for a long moment. Then, with a look of defeat, she sighed and nodded. “All right. Come along. You’ll need to see our home before you can bring it back.”

She led Lily to the fountain outside the cottage and waved a hand over the glassy surface of the water. Mist gathered beneath the pool, then cleared to reveal a kingdom wrought from alabaster and sapphires. The palace rose from within the city walls like a snowy mountain, and its blue banners flapped like ribbons in the wind. Fountains, like the one in front of Isla’s modest cottage but much larger, bubbled with crystalline water. Vines abloom with purple flowers coiled around the balustrades, and elf children in a courtyard laughed as they tossed clumps of cloud at one another like snowballs.

Lily tingled with excitement as the pictures danced before her. “This is amazing. How did you do it?” she asked.

“It’s called memory casting, a gift of my people. We deal in mist, and in many ways memories are like vapors. Drawing them out is like clearing away fog.” She gazed at the images with a pained expression. “There’s too much to rebuild, Lily. One artisan couldn’t possibly accomplish all this.”

“I still want to try. What if I start with just one part? The part that matters most to you?”

Isla closed her eyes and swept her palms over the pool. Suddenly the image of the palace magnified, and Lily felt as if she were astride an eagle soaring toward it. She could see every wall, every window, every vine snaking over the bricks. The image ducked through a window and sped down the halls. Carpeting adorned with laurels rolled down corridors, and windows cast light onto the floors in silver bars. Chandeliers hung from the vaulted ceilings, with each crystal cut into the same droplet shape of the earrings Isla wore.

The view spun into a circular room aglow with blue light, and Lily marveled at the objects lining the curved walls: a wooden horse, a tiny bow and arrow set accented with jewels, a stack of leather-bound books, a pile of white stone blocks half-assembled into a replica of the palace. At the center of the room a little girl with a cascade of lavender hair sat with a doll upon her lap.

Lily looked up in surprise. “Isla, is that you?”

Isla didn’t respond but instead stood with her eyes closed, her hands dancing above the water and her brow creased in concentration. Lily returned her attention to the pool, which now displayed a grand ballroom with a crowd of elves parting like the sea before a noble couple who walked arm in arm. They both wore circlets of silver laurels upon their brows. From the flowing gray hair, Lily recognized the man as Isla’s father. The woman at his arm had dark hair the color of wine, just like Rowan’s.

Isla’s mother . . .

The picture shifted again. She saw a courtyard with a silver tree at its center, its leaves hanging from its graceful limbs like tinsel. A young Isla galloped around the courtyard astride a white pony, one hand holding the reins and the other dancing in the air to coax lightning from the sky above her. As she performed, a crowd applauded.

The picture changed again. Lily saw a room with gauzy curtains blown inward with the breeze, the kingdom sprawling outside the large window. Isla’s mother sat in a chair with a baby bundled in her lap. Isla knelt at her feet and caressed the baby’s forehead with a single finger.

Another shift. A royal hall, with Isla’s parents on two thrones of tangled vines gilt in silver, overseeing a banquet. Isla played a harp in the corner. Her father nodded at her, and her mother flashed a doting smile.

Yet another change. Isla as a girl, in the courtyard again, her knee skinned after a tumble from her pony. Her mother wrapped her in her arms, her robes flowing about her like billowing mist.

Then the image darkened, and Lily saw another room with drawn curtains that blocked out all sunlight. Candles flickered and cast a somber glow upon a bed hung with blood-colored drapery. Isla knelt on the side of the bed, her head in her arms as she wept. A woman whom Lily couldn’t make out lay on the bed, a single pale hand stroking Isla’s hair. Rowan, barely older than a toddler, hung to the back of the room, gnawing on a fingernail and clutching in his arms a ragged toy raccoon with a green ribbon around its tail.

Ripples suddenly spread across the surface of the pool and warped the image. The dark room vanished in a swirl of smoke, and Lily glanced up to see Isla crying, her tears plunking into the water. The princess shuddered, and then straightened her shoulders. “Will that be enough?” she asked, her voice slightly unsteady.

Lily wanted to tell Isla she was sorry for all she’d endured, but every time she reached for words, they fell flat. “Yes. Thanks,” was all she managed to mutter. Isla nodded, then swept away toward the house, her robe fluttering behind her.

Lily stood alone in the morning light. Her heart raced from the things she’d seen, and she spent a long moment replaying every detail, examining every curtain flutter and facet of crystal in her mind. Then she closed her palm around the soothstone and marched to the crest of a hill.

The valley sprawled below, a carpet of green that stretched to the roots of the Desolation Mountains. Lily scanned the terrain for a landmark from Isla’s memories to orient her. She squinted but saw only vast fields, their grasses swaying in the wind like waves upon the sea. Isla’s valley had burned away in her father’s fires ages ago, and every blade of grass and supple leaf was unrecognizable. Lily shook her head. What were you thinking? You’re just a kid. You can’t do this by yourself.

Not by yourself.

Lily froze. The voice had only whispered, but the words struck her distinctly. She listened again. A breeze tousled her hair and swept delicately past her face. Not by yourself.

Lily drew a breath. It’s the wind. The wind is speaking to me again!

The breeze changed directions and rustled the heads of the flowers as it gusted into the valley. Lily saw the grasses bow beneath its flow and leaves spiral into the air in its wake. For a moment she lost track of it over a pile of rocks, and she jogged with a hand shielding her eyes to search for its path. Then she gasped.

A tree stood in the center of the valley and stretched its arms skyward. As the wind coiled through its branches, leaves twirled to the ground, catching the light like silver birds as they fell. Lily recognized the tree as the same one in the palace courtyard, where Isla had learned to entice lightning from the sky.

She felt the breeze through her hair again. He’s given you eyes to see, it whispered.

Lily gazed out across the valley, and in her mind’s eye she saw the palace walls rise around the tree. White cobblestones paved the courtyard, and the alabaster towers climbed toward the clouds. Then houses appeared, and roads, and the brook again wound through the valley like a strand of silver tinsel.

Lily closed her eyes. The light through her eyelids brightened, and she knew that the soothstone fragment blazed with its pale fire. From the valley below she heard the clink of stones, thousands of them knocking together and grinding into place. Then the clamor quieted except for the faint babbling of a distant brook. Something soft brushed against her hand.

“C’est magnifique, mademoiselle!”

Lily opened her eyes. Philippe stood beside her with his face between his paws. Below them, the kingdom of the Mist Elves gleamed like a pearl between the jaws of the mountains.

Chapter 3

Empty Halls

In the days that followed, Isla ventured into the valley to trace the smooth stones of the city walls and to stir ripples in the pools that dotted the courtyards. She crossed the threshold into Castle Mistwood and turned in place to gaze up at the chandeliers and tapestries in the main hall. In the playroom she caressed the yarn mane of her rocking horse and turned a set of silver marbles in her palm. She paused before portraits of her ancestors and lingered for long, quiet moments before the painting of her parents: her father regal and proud, her mother elegant, with wisdom in her eyes.

During these wanderings Isla said not a word. She drank in each detail and retreated deeper and deeper into her mind. The kitchens Lily rebuilt overflowed with fresh fruit, aged cheeses, herbs, and joints of lamb, but each night Isla climbed back up the hilltop to return to her tumbledown cottage. There, she would coax Rowan, who spent most of his time brooding in one of his fulgurites, to join her for a meager supper. Without a word she would prepare soup and bread for them all, they would eat in silence, and then Isla would clear the table and disappear into her chamber for the night.

After a week of this melancholy, Lily returned to the cottage to discover Isla in her room, folding garments and stuffing them into a leather satchel.

“Can I help you, Isla?” Lily asked, playing with a splinter in the doorframe.

Isla shook her head and continued packing.

“You’re not down in the valley,” Lily said. “Is everything okay? Is there something I need to change? I can fix whatever you’d like.”

“You’ve been very kind to us, Lily. But unfortunately, not everything can be fixed.”

“Did I get something wrong? If you’ll just tell me what it is, I’m sure I can make it right.”

“You didn’t do anything wrong. The palace is wonderful. But it’s also full of ghosts, Lily. This was our home not because of the stones and the carpeting, but because of our people. Our family. Without them, it feels like walking through a graveyard.”

Lily swallowed. “Maybe I could still help. What if I could bring the people back? I’ve been able to create new dream-born before. Philippe and Mortimer and all the other creatures—they all came from my head. What if I imagined your family? Couldn’t they come back, too?”

Isla’s expression turned grave. “It wouldn’t be them. They might look the same, but they would be shells of who they once were. Each dream-born is unique, just as each person in your world is unique. You can’t treat people like piles of sand that you can build up or knock down at will.”

As Lily struggled to think of a response, she missed her friends more than ever. Keisha would have known how to persuade Isla, and even Adam with his goofy mishaps would have offered an argument or two. On her own, however, Lily flubbed every word she spoke. Finally, she gave up. “Where will you go?” she asked, her shoulders slouching

Isla dropped a compass with a silver chain into her bag. “It’s time for me to do as Pax told me. I’m going to the Cave of Lights.”

“Isla, how is that going to work? The soothstone burned you when you tried to pick it up. What makes you think you can touch it now?”

“My heart was very different then. I was working with Eymah. I think that’s why the stone rejected me.”

“How do you know for sure?”

“I don’t. But Pax told me that’s where I need to go, and I trust him more than my very breath.” She rolled up her cloak, then secured the tethers on her pack. “I’ve gathered plenty of food and supplies for you both. I need you to take care of Rowan while I’m gone. You’ll do that, won’t you? You’ll make sure nothing happens to him?”

Lily tried to hide her disappointment. Rowan hadn’t spoken two words to her since her arrival. Babysitting a sullen prince who despised her was the last thing she wanted to do. “I’d rather come with you,” she said.

“Out of the question. I need you to look after Rowan.”

“Does Rowan want that? I think he hates me.”

“He doesn’t hate you.”

“He sure acts like he does.”

“He just doesn’t understand you yet. Give him time.”

Lily gritted her teeth. “This isn’t why I came back. I’m here to help with my soothstone, not to babysit.”

She instantly regretted her words. Isla stared at her, and Lily cringed and looked away. A long silence ensued.

“You need to think carefully about why you’re really here, Lily,” Isla finally said. “There’s a reason Pax gave you a different purpose than what you want.”

Lily’s face reddened, and she stared at the floor.

“And I’d advise you not to call Rowan a baby to his face. He’ll throw a fit.”

“No, that’s not what I meant.”

Isla placed a hand on Lily’s shoulder. “You’ll both be safe in this valley, especially now that Pax has restored it. Please be patient. And promise me you’ll not let anything happen to him.”

“Happen to who?” Rowan appeared in the doorway. He leaned against the doorframe, turned a piece of glass between his fingers, and studied them both through narrowed eyes.

“It’s time, Espy,” Isla said. “Remember what we talked about.”

“I already told you, I’m not staying here.”

“Yes, you are.”

“This idea is ridiculous! Isla, we might have family still alive. You remember what Mother said! How can you go chasing after a rock right now?”

“Those were fairy tales, Rowan! Stories she told us as children. That’s all.”

“The Entwined Kingdom wasn’t a fairy tale. Enlacia isn’t a fairy tale either!”

“What’s Enlacia?” Lily blurted. Rowan flashed her a look of scorn.

“Rowan, you are the sole surviving heir to the throne, not to mention my responsibility,” Isla said. “You know the dangers I’m heading into. I want you here, where you’ll be protected. And Lily, for the last time, it would mean more to me than any tower, palace, or wall that you can build, if you would please look after my brother.”

Her words silenced them both. Lily looked at the ground; Rowan glared back at her and his ears turned red, but he said nothing.

“Thank you,” Isla said with a nod. She leaned forward to hug Rowan, who didn’t pull away but didn’t return the embrace either. “I’ll return as soon as I can. Look to the east.” She turned to Lily. “Promise me, please.”

Lily swallowed. “I promise,” she said, barely able to disguise her reluctance.

For the first time in days, Isla broke into a smile. “Thank you. You’ve been a true friend to me.” Then she shouldered her pack, hugged Rowan one more time, and began her march across the vast plain at the foot of the Desolation Mountains.

As she watched her go, Lily thought about the miles and miles of terrain she’d seen from the deck of the Flying Emerald: swamps and canyons, deserts, craggy peaks slick with ice. How could Isla traverse all those miles on foot?

“Hey, Isla!” she called. Her hand closed around the soothstone, and a familiar light engulfed them. When it faded, a griffin towered before them, pawed the earth, and then bowed low on its forelimbs so Isla could mount it.

Isla smiled and nodded her thanks to Lily. She climbed astride the griffin, locked eyes for one last moment with Rowan, and then took to the skies. The griffin pierced the air with its screech, and as it lifted toward the clouds, the sun glinted off its wings like firelight. The creature pirouetted twice, then sailed eastward, and Lily shielded her eyes from the glare and kept her eyes fastened on it until it appeared as nothing more than a fleck of gold on the horizon.

As Lily dropped her hands, she felt like a deflated balloon. “What am I doing here?” she asked herself. In response she heard only the sound of a lone cricket. Lily blew out a puff of air, then wrapped her arms around herself as a barrier against the loneliness that gripped her. She thought of Adam, Keisha, and Cedric, who’d journeyed alongside her through all her fears and surprises and ridiculous mistakes, and she longed for them to adventure with her again through all those dazzling lands. Instead, she stood on a hilltop over a resplendent valley, with her handiwork shimmering below, but with no real company except a kid who hated her.

Where was that kid, by the way?

She spun around. The hillside was vacant, except for the grasses bending and whispering in the wind.

“Rowan!” Lily called. The wind whipped in reply, and in the distance a wood thrush sang, but no voice answered. Lily squinted to study the hillside and the valley below.

Rowan was nowhere to be seen.

Chapter 4

Whoosh

“Rowan!”

Lily turned in place. The grass waved in the wind, but she saw no movement or shadow to suggest the whereabouts of Rowan. Think, Lily, think! She glanced down into the valley, and wondered if he’d ventured into Mistwood. No, he’s shown no interest in the kingdom at all. Why would he go there now? Then she slapped her forehead. His glass hideout. Of course.

She jogged to the fulgurite where Rowan usually hid. It was the same glass tree from which Rowan would emerge for dinner every night, and which had protected him from the fires and the Blight when they first ravaged the valley. Lily crouched in front of a curtain of black canvas that hung over an arched doorway at the base of the tree, and she called Rowan’s name. When he didn’t respond, she rapped on the glass. Her strike echoed with a hollow tone like a bell, but Rowan didn’t answer. Something scuffled inside.

“Rowan, please come out,” Lily said.

No answer.

She shook her head. The last time she’d been in this position, a little girl she was babysitting had refused to come out of her closet because Lily had eaten her last green gummy bear. This moment felt just as absurd. Lily knocked on the glass again.

“Please, Rowan, I don’t like this situation any more than you do, but I promised Isla I’d take care of you. Please just come out, or at least answer me.”

She heard more scuffling, but still he didn’t reply. Lily gritted her teeth and fought the impulse to kick the grass.

“Suit yourself, then! Stay in there as long as you want. What do I care!”

With a huff, Lily stomped down the hillside and into the valley. At least in Mistwood, she thought, she could be productive.

With her lips still pressed thin in exasperation, Lily erected a stone bridge over a stream and cajoled irises to poke through the soil along the bank. These projects elicited a few smiles from her, but not the depth of satisfaction she expected. Without someone to share in the beauty, her joy was fleeing.

She wandered into Isla and Rowan’s playroom and mused about riding the rocking horse, but with Isla gone and the halls so silent, she felt too much like an intruder to displace a single wooden block.

At sunset she trudged back up the hillside to make the nightly soup. She found some leeks and mushrooms and boiled them with salt and herbs just as she’d watched Isla do, but the vegetables turned limp and soggy, and the broth tasted like stagnant water.

When she’d ladled the soup into bowls and placed a slice of stale bread beside each serving, she stood in the doorway of the cottage and called for Rowan. Again, he didn’t answer.

“He has been in his glass house all day, mademoiselle.” Philippe hopped up to the doorway, a parsnip jutting from his mouth.

“Has he come out at all?”

“Non, mademoiselle. Not that I have seen.”

The sun had already sunk below the mountains, pilfering all warmth and light with it, and the sky had deepened to a somber blue-green. Lily groaned and marched out toward the fulgurite.

“Rowan, it’s dinnertime!” she called, not bothering anymore to disguise her annoyance.

No answer.

“Rowan, this isn’t funny. You need to eat. Come out!”

She received no reply, except for the whisper of the wind through the grass.

What a brat, Lily thought. She heaved a sigh, then threw open the canvas curtain. “Rowan, knock it off, and come out! It’s the same soup that Isla—”

She stopped. Even without the sun she could see that the chamber was empty.

“Rowan! Rowan, where are you? Stop playing around!” Lily crawled through the low doorway on all fours. She fumbled about in the waning light, and scraped her knees on a rock jutting up from the earth. Then her right hand plunged into empty space, and she pitched forward and landed facedown on the dirt floor of the hideaway. Her right arm dangled in a hole in the ground beside her, and when she stretched her fingers she touched something cool, solid, and sloping at the base of the pit.

Lily spit grit from her mouth. She was about to mutter something about exasperating elf princes, when the pop of a match strike and a crackling of fire startled her. She rolled away from the hole and sat up as a spray of pink light, like a sparkler, suddenly illuminated the room. Philippe stood behind her, a light sizzling in his outstretched paw.

“Mademoiselle, it appears le petit prince is fond of holes,” Philippe said. The sparkler in his paw was a wand, the plastic type that birthday party magicians wielded for their tricks.

“Philippe, where did you get that?”

“Surely, mademoiselle, you do not think I wear this ridiculous hat for fashion?” He removed the top hat and wrinkled his nose in disdain. “It is a magic hat, so they say. One day, some scoundrel pulled me out of it, but I had the last laugh and took it back! Then I discovered he left some of his tricks inside.”

“You came from inside the hat?”

“Oui, mademoiselle.”

“So, you live in it?”

Philippe cleared his throat in disgust, and his ears flopped about as he shook his head vigorously. “Do not be ridiculous, mademoiselle! Have you ever lived inside a hat? Impossible to clean. Lint and hairballs, they are everywhere! And the smell . . . no fresh air, mademoiselle!”

Lily shook off her confusion. “Okay. Whatever. Do you know where Rowan is?”

“Non, mademoiselle.”

“I thought you said he was in here all day.”

“Oui, mademoiselle.”

Lily frowned at him. “So where is he, then?”

“Somewhere else, mademoiselle.”

“But where?”

Philippe shrugged.

Lily rubbed her temples. “You said he never left this chamber. Are you sure that’s true?”

“Perhaps I am mistaken, but I do not think so. I spent the afternoon harvesting roots outside the cottage. They are so good, you know, the parsnips so fragrant, they will do beautifully with a drop of olive oil and some rosemary. And yesterday, I found sage behind the old beech tree, which will be parfait with the turnips, although perhaps they need a bit—”

“Philippe!”

“Oh. Pardon. Ahem! The root patch is just outside this place. I saw him go in, and by sunset, he still had not come out.”

“Did you hear anything?”

“I heard him moving for a while. Then I heard a sound, like eh, a whoosh. After that, nothing.”

“A whoosh?”

“Oui, ma cherie.” He made a roller coaster motion with his free paw. “Whoosh.”

Lily glanced at the hole in the ground that had triggered her fall. “Can you bring that light closer?” she asked as she knelt in the dirt. The pink light of Philippe’s sparkler revealed the hole as a perfect circle in the ground, its diameter barely wide enough for Lily to squeeze through. As she leaned forward, the light reflected off the floor of the hollow and cast it in a glossy sheen.

Lily frowned in concentration. Her fingers had brushed something cool and hard at the base of the pit . . . something smooth, just like . . .

“Glass.”

“Qu’est que c’est, mademoiselle?”

“The bottom of this hole is made out of glass.” She craned her neck. The opening was actually the entrance to a glass tunnel that plunged into the earth, as if someone had installed a tube slide underground. Lily studied the steep incline of the passage, and shuddered. The tunnel reminded her of a waterslide she’d been terrified to go down at an amusement park when she was six. “Whoosh,” she whispered to herself.

“What is that, mademoiselle?”

She stood up. “You said you heard a whooshing sound, right? This must have been it. He must have gone down there.”

Philippe stepped toward the entrance and peered down the tunnel. “Are you quite sure, mademoiselle?”

“Yes, I’m sure. We need to go after him.”

He sucked his teeth. “Then we will need better light than this.” Before Lily could protest, Philippe extinguished his sparkler and then rummaged in his hat. “Ridiculous hat,” he murmured under his breath. Then he withdrew something that sounded like plastic cups knocking together in the hands of a toddler. Philippe whistled, thumped the ground several times with his foot, and a dozen fireflies flew into the chamber, infusing the tiny space with golden light. As if upon command, the fireflies congregated into a clear, plastic half-sphere that Philippe held aloft. Once nestled inside, the rabbit closed the sphere with a second half, such that a ball filled with fireflies illuminated the night like a lantern.

Lily gawked at Philippe. “You’re not an ordinary rabbit,” she said.

He nonchalantly returned his hat to his head, then brushed dust off his shoulder. “Well, I believe that is, how you say? OB-vious?” He leaned over the lip of the tunnel and his firefly lantern dappled the chute with light, but Lily could make out nothing beyond a foot or two down. She crouched down to lower herself into the tunnel, but Phillipe held out a paw and waved her back. “No, no, no, mademoiselle. I suspect I know much more about such things than you. I was born in a hat, but raised in a, how you say?”

“A burrow?”

“Burro? You mean, ‘hee haw’?”

“Ah, no—”

“I grew up in holes and tunnels under the ground.”

“Yes. A burrow.”

“No, there were no such creatures there. How could they dig? So clumsy, with their hooves!”

“I know, I wasn’t talking about a—”

“Is it the ears?”

“What?”

“The ears. You think they are like us, because of the long ears?”

Lily’s head swam. “No,” she said, punctuating her words with a fist against her open palm. “I’m not talking about donkeys. You grew up in tunnels. I get it.”

“Okay. Then, allons-y, mademoiselle.”

“Who’s Allan Z?”

“Ah, sacré bleu! Whoosh.”

“Oh. Yes. Let’s go.”

“Just follow me down the tunnel, okay? I go first. Stay close, and follow the light.”

With that, Philippe leaped into the hole, and with a quick whoosh he disappeared. His departure plunged the chamber into darkness, and Lily strained her eyes to discern the yawning gap in the ground before her.

“This is crazy,” she said aloud. “I’m alone, in the dark, following a rabbit down a hole.”

Her breath clouded before her face in the chill air as she sat down on the edge of the tunnel. Three times she considered dropping down inside, but as she considered the darkness and the closeness, her courage fizzled. She’d never thought much about claustrophobia before, but the idea of shoving herself into a glass tube unnerved her. But you have to keep your promise, she thought. Rowan could be lost, or hurt, or worse.

Finally, with both hands braced against the ground, she closed her eyes, held her breath, and slid down into the chute.

Whoosh.

She hurtled downward into inky blackness. Her arms flew up above her head, and she fought to grind her heels against the slide to slow her descent, but her foot only ricocheted from the glass wall, twisting her ankle. The slide corkscrewed, twisted, and flipped so many times that she lost all sense of direction. As she slid down, down into the depths, a part of her worried she’d never stop sliding, and that she’d stumbled into an endless tunnel that would forever rob her of the sun. After what seemed like an eternity, the bottom of the slide suddenly dropped out from beneath her. Lily’s stomach flipped as she plunged downward, and she flailed her limbs as the wind whipped through her hair. She struck something icy cold, then thrashed in panic as her nose and chest burned. She had fallen into a body of water.

Lily kicked and flapped her arms, not knowing which direction would lead her to fresh air. Finally, she glimpsed a thread of light, ghostly green, wavering above the water. Lily swam toward it and broke through the surface just as her lungs threatened to burst.