Lyra descended a hidden staircase into darkness, Grayson in front of her, Odette behind. With the sword gripped in one hand, Lyra felt her way along the wall with the other, listening for Grayson’s footfalls, counting his steps.
The staircase turned, and Grayson’s voice cut through the darkness. “Take my hand.”
From the sound of his voice alone, she could tell he’d turned to face her, and somehow, her body’s sense for his was so strong that she knew exactly where his hand was in the darkness.
Take my hand. Doing that would have been a mistake, so Lyra didn’t. But she wanted to, and somehow, that was worse. “Good balance, remember?” She stepped forward, past him and down onto something… metal?
Behind her, Grayson addressed Odette through the darkness. “Just two more steps, Ms. Morales. I’ve got you.”
“You would think so.” The old woman’s voice was dry. “Where are we?” The instant that question left Odette’s mouth, lights flared to life, built into the floor of the room they’d just entered. Lyra blinked, taking in her surroundings. The still-dark staircase had let out into a small room with
rounded metal walls.
More chamber than room, Lyra thought. It was shaped like a cylinder, maybe seven feet in diameter, ten feet tall. Metal walls. Metal floor. Mirrored ceiling.
There were only two objects in the chamber: a curved monitor affixed to the wall and, beside it, a retro telephone that looked like it had been lifted straight from the nineties. The phone was see-through with a teal cord, its inner parts brightly colored—neon pink, neon blue, neon green.
Lyra walked toward the phone. Odette followed. Suddenly, there was a whirring sound. The floor held steady, but the metal walls shifted, whirling and closing off the stairs.
They were trapped now, just the three of them, the retro phone, and the screen, which flickered to life. Gold words appeared in elaborate script.
From this point on Three paths diverge
Three paths? Lyra wondered at that. The words faded, and others appeared.
A hint remains
But must be earned
Lyra couldn’t look away, didn’t so much as blink as new lines kept replacing the old.
A riddle A puzzle
A Hawthorne game
Once more with feeling:
They’re all the same
Each team’s challenge is their own A crown, a scepter, an empty throne
Of all the words that had appeared on the screen, those stuck with Lyra the most. A crown. A scepter. An empty throne. That was a clue of some
kind. It had to be. Lyra inched forward.
All for one
And one for all
Grayson came to stand closer to the screen—and closer to Lyra.
When you’re ready Make the call
The screen went black. Lyra’s gaze locked on to the retro telephone, and then, before she or Grayson or Odette could say a word, the metal walls around them began to whir and shift again.
