"What did you see?" Seth asked eagerly.
"Everything and nothing," Kendra said, her voice haunted. "It was too much. I couldn't really focus on anything. I forgot where I was, who I was."
"How did the vision end?" Grandma asked.
"I couldn't think clearly enough to take my hand off the crystal," Kendra explained. "I saw into the place where the Fairy Queen lives. I managed to focus on her. She commanded me to take my hand off the Oculus. With her help, I escaped."
"You could have lost your mind," Grandpa seethed.
"I don't think any of them have mastered it yet," Kendra said. "If they do, we'll have no secrets. The Sphinx seems determined."
"Does this mean we need to enter the chamber beyond the Hall of Dread?" Tanu asked.
"Absolutely," Grandpa said. "The Society is gaining too great an advantage. We must work under the assumption that they will soon be empowered to see anywhere. We need to learn all we can to even the odds."
"Can't we use the Chronometer somehow?" Seth asked. "Wouldn't time travel come in handy?"
"I've been studying the device," Coulter reported. "I've made a little headway, but the Chronometer is both complex and dangerous."
"There is little available knowledge on the subject," Grandma added. "We don't have an instruction manual."
"They have an artifact that heals any wound, and another that could let them see anywhere," Seth said. "They'll use the Oculus to find the others. We know about the Chronometer. What do the other two artifacts do?"
"One grants power over space," Coulter said. "The other offers immortality."
"If they collect all five, they can open the demon prison," Kendra said.
"Zzyzx," Seth breathed.
"Which would mean the end of the world as we know it," Grandpa said. "The Society of the Evening Star would fulfill their self-proclaimed mission and usher in the night."
Grandma poured warm milk into a mug, added chocolate powder, and stirred. She placed the mug in front of Kendra.
"Thanks," Kendra said. "Warren mentioned that you guys brought the Journal of Secrets."
"It's in the attic," Seth said. "On our side."
"It has the passwords for opening the secret room," Kendra said. "I'll need an umite wax candle."
"I stocked up," Grandpa said. "We have plenty."
Kendra took a sip from the mug. "We might as well do it now."
"You should rest first," Grandma urged. Kendra shook her head. "I slept in the car. I doubt the bad guys are resting."
The dismal dungeon corridor stretched to the left and right, lined with cell doors on both sides. But none were comparable to the door before Seth, composed of blood-red wood bound with black iron. Coulter stood on one side, Grandpa and Kendra on the other. After considerable begging, Seth had been permitted to tag along.
Coulter held a flaming torch. Grandpa carried a key and a mirror. Kendra clung to the Journal of Secrets. Seth had a flashlight.
"Stay away from the doors in the hall," Grandpa reminded them. "Each door has a peephole. Resist any urge to peek. You do not want to gaze into the eyes of a phantom. Do not touch any of the doors. Violate this rule and you will be removed from the Hall of Dread immediately, never to return." He was looking at Seth. So were Coulter and Kendra.
"What?" Seth said.
"You often ask for chances to prove yourself," Grandpa said. "Don't blow it."
"You'll barely know I'm here," Seth promised.
"Many of these creatures can radiate fear and other disturbing emotions," Coulter warned. "The special cells that hold them help dampen the effects. Speak up if the sensations get overwhelming. Kendra, watch out for feelings of depression, desperation, or terror. Seth, I'll be interested to see how well your immunity to magical fear holds up in here."
Grandpa inserted a key into the door. He placed a palm against the red wood and muttered a few unintelligible words as he turned the key. The door swung inward.
Coulter entered the dark hallway first, using his torch to ignite others hanging on the walls. The wavering firelight cast an ominous glow over the stone walls and floor. As Seth followed Grandpa inside, he noticed that the air was palpably colder than elsewhere in the dungeon. His breath plumed in front of his face.
The hall was not long--the torchlight already glimmered against the far wall. There were eight doors on either side of the corridor, equally spaced, each crafted from solid iron and embossed with archaic symbols and pictograms. Every door had a keyhole and a closed peephole.
"You're right," Kendra said, her voice hushed. "This place feels wrong."
"You can feel the darkness," Coulter whispered. "You all right, Seth?"
"Just a little cold." Aside from the inherent creepiness of the heavy doors bathed in torchlight, and the unsettling guesses of what might be imprisoned behind them, he sensed no sinister emotions.
Grandpa led the way toward the end of the hall. Coulter hung back at the rear. As Seth passed the second set of doors, he began to hear faint, spidery whispering. He glanced back at Coulter. "Do you hear that?"
"The silence can play tricks on your ears," Coulter replied.
"No. Don't you hear voices whispering gibberish?"
Coulter paused. "All I hear is the torch crackling. It's quiet as a tomb. Are you squirreling around with me? We're falling behind."
They picked up their pace, catching up to Kendra. Seth concentrated on the babbling whispers. As he focused, he began to catch words.
"Alone... thirsty... pain... hunger... agony... mercy... thirst."
The words were tangled, many voices overlapping. When his concentration lapsed, the sounds reverted to gibbering nonsense.
Seth glanced back at Coulter, who motioned for him to keep walking. Why couldn't the older man hear the voices? The eerie babbling wasn't just in his head. He could hear the jumbled whispers as distinctly as his footsteps.
Soon they reached the final set of doors at the end of the hall. The wall ahead of them was a blank expanse of stone blocks interrupted by three brackets holding torches. Seth saw no evidence of a door.
Kendra opened the Journal of Secrets, and Grandpa lit an umite candle. Coulter watched over her shoulder.
"It says to light the torches on the left and right. Then place one hand on the center sconce, and the other on the block with the silver vein in it."
Coulter brought his torch close to the wall. He and Grandpa started to examine blocks.
"Do you hear the voices whispering?" Seth asked Kendra.
She punched him on the arm. "Cut it out. You might not feel the fear, but I'm kind of freaked right now."
"I'm not kidding," Seth said. "Save it."
Seth stepped away from her. The whispering sounded clearer than ever. He began picking out forlorn phrases. "I hear you," Seth whispered in his quietest voice, barely more than mouthing the words.
The overlapping whispers ceased. A chill ran down his spine, making the hairs on the back of his neck bristle. The tingle was not a reaction to magical fear. It came because of a certainty that the voices had clammed up in response to his words. During the menacing silence, Seth felt sure that all of the beings in the Hall of Dread were aware of him.
"Help me, Great One, please, please, help me," a single voice hissed, breaking the silence. The silky whisper was coming from the cell to his left.
Seth clenched his jaw. Grandpa and Coulter were debating about which of three blocks had the most obvious silver streaks. Kendra had her head bowed and her eyes closed. No one else seemed to have noticed the slithery voice.
"Who are you?" Seth whispered.
"Free me and I will serve you for all time," the voice vowed.
Seth stared at the door. He wanted to see who was addressing him. But Grandpa would skin him alive if he peeked.
"Yes, yes, look upon me, grant me mercy, pardon me, Wise One, and I will serve you well."
Grandpa had one hand on a block and the other on a sconce. Kendra stood beside him, telling him what to say.
The ghastly voice became more intense. "Behold me, Mighty One, pity me, speak to me, answer me."
"Seth!" Coulter said, approaching with the torch and snapping his fingers. "What's your interest in that door?"
Seth wrenched his gaze away from the iron door. "I hear a voice."
Grandpa turned away from the wall. "A voice? The fiend in that cell doesn't speak."
"It speaks to me," Seth said. "It wants me to free it. It says it will serve me."
"He said he was hearing whispers as we entered," Coulter said. "I didn't take him seriously."
"You were really hearing voices?" Kendra said.
The voice from the cell continued to implore him. "Help me, Great One, free me."
"You guys really hear nothing?" Seth checked.
"I'm not sure what this means," Grandpa said, studying Seth intently, "except that you had better leave this place immediately."
Seth nodded. "I think you're right."
Grandpa blinked. He shot Coulter a worried glance. "Take him upstairs."
"Right." Coulter took hold of Seth's elbow and guided him back toward the blood-red door.
"I will wait," the voice from the cell promised. "Please."
Seth pressed his hands over his ears as he exited. He began to hear faint, pleading voices from other cells, so he started humming to himself until he was back in the regular part of the dungeon.
As they walked toward the stairs to the kitchen, Seth uncovered his ears. "What was going on back there? What's the matter with me?"
Coulter shook his head. "I keep remembering how you were the only one who could see us when we were shades, back when the plague was overcoming Fablehaven."
"Graulas said that was because of removing the nail to defeat the revenant. I thought once the nail was destroyed and the plague reversed, there wouldn't be any more shadow creatures left to see."
Coulter stopped walking. The torch threw strange highlights and shadows across his features. "Whatever explains your condition, if I were in your shoes, I would steer clear of shadowy creatures."
"Makes sense," Seth said, trying to keep his voice steady.
Standing beside Grandpa, Kendra stared at the door through which Coulter and Seth had departed. She felt deeply worried for her brother, but it was hard to tell how much of that concern was a reaction to the dark emotions stirred by the atmosphere of the hall.
"Have you heard of anything like this?" Kendra finally asked.
Grandpa looked at her, his expression suggesting he had momentarily forgotten she was with him. "No. I'm not sure what it means. I know I don't like it. You didn't hear anything, did you?"
"Not a word," Kendra said. "I
feel plenty. I feel scared and sad and alone. I have to keep reminding myself the emotions are false."
"We should retrieve the information we need and get out." Grandpa placed one hand on the sconce and the other on the stone block he had decided contained the clearest vein of silver. "What do I say?"
Kendra read from the journal. '"Nobody deserves these secrets.'"
Grandpa solemnly repeated the words.
The entire center portion of the wall dissolved in a cloud of dust.
"Look at that," Grandpa murmured.
'"Those who came before me were wiser than I am,'" Kendra read, coughing softly.
Again Grandpa repeated the words.
"That second part disarms the traps," Kendra explained, closing the journal.
Grandpa took a torch from the wall and led the way through the mist of dust. Kendra placed a hand over her nose and lips as she followed, squinting to keep the gritty particles out of her eyes.
After about fifteen feet, the dust cloud ended abruptly. A hall stretched ahead of them. To the left and right stood a final set of iron doors. Kendra tried not to envision what might lurk inside those secret cells.
Grandpa led the way down the hall, eventually descending a flight of two dozen stairs. At the bottom of the stairwell, they passed through an archway into a spacious room. The smooth floor, walls, and ceiling were composed of white marble swirled with gray. A stone fountain dominated the center of the chamber. No water flowed, but the basin was full. Diverse objects lined the walls: full suits of armor, upright sarcophagi, ornate jade sculptures, grotesque masks, laden bookshelves, colorful marionettes, statues from various cultures, archaic maps, painted fans, framed scrolls, antique carousel animals, elaborate urns, bouquets of glass flowers, the skull of a triceratops, and a heavy golden gong.
"Many of these items would be priceless museum pieces," Grandpa remarked, surveying the room, torch held aloft.
"Did Patton bring all of this here?" Kendra wondered.
"He and others before him," Grandpa said. "I'm most curious about the books." He approached the nearest bookshelf. "Lots of German and Latin. No English. Some languages I don't recognize. Some might be fairy dialects."
"I don't see any words I recognize," Kendra said.
Grandpa turned, eyes scanning the room. "The message from Patton is on the ceiling?"
"I'm supposed to use the mirror to read it."
Footsteps resounded from outside the room, slapping down the stairs. Coulter trotted into view, bearing a torch and Seth's flashlight. "Would you look at this," he murmured, shining the flashlight beam around the room.