As a supernatural, I was used to the fantastic.

Sanaria, the main city in the Vampire Realm, took the cake, however. I’d only been here five minutes and I was already wowed. Ares and I had just parked his motorcycle on the outskirts of town and had walked onto the main street. I stopped on the sidewalk, taking it all in.

I whistled. “When you said there were no cars in the Vampire Realm, I wasn’t expecting vampire horses pulling floating carriages.”

They trotted down the street, fangs gleaming white in the moonlight. More bustled through the narrow road, each wearing a feathery headdress. Equine opera singers. The carriages were done up, too, bedecked with all different colors and a variety of trims.

Ares took my hand and pulled me along. “Come, the Illuminarium is waiting.”

“Yeah, you’re right.”

We’d come here to meet with the Vampire Realm’s institution of knowledge—not for me to gawk. After we’d saved Elesius from Drakon two days ago, we’d given the Illuminarium the power source that Drakon had used for his evil spell. They’d contacted us a couple hours ago, and I was crossing my fingers that they’d discovered something useful.

While I followed Ares, my attention was on the city around me. The buildings were four stories high, fabulously ornate structures built of white stone that reflected the moonlight, making the whole town glow. Street lamps full of lightning bugs gleamed golden and bright. Strands of fairy lights decorated the buildings and stretched high above the street. They were made of lightning bugs, too.

“Vampires like light,” Ares said, clearly having noticed my interest.

“It’s fabulous. But do the bugs like it?”

He laughed. “It’s a spell, not real lightning bugs.”

Whew.

We reached a busier street with more foot traffic, squeezing in on the crowded sidewalk. For the first time in my life, I was surrounded by vampires. They didn’t come to the human realm often, so it was a bit disconcerting. Especially since some of them seemed to be looking at my neck. Ares might’ve been highly cautious about not drinking my blood, but were they?

I shivered, pressing closer to Ares. Only then did I realize that they were moving deferentially out of our way.

“They’re impressed that you’re the Enforcer, aren’t they?” I asked.

He shrugged slightly. “Yes.”

“That must be annoying. Is that why Doyen and Magisteria spend so much time hanging out alone at their thrones in the woods?”

“I believe so. Some things do not change quickly in the Vampire Realm. Not just the horses and carriages, but the awe of authority.”

“That must be exhausting.”

“It is.”

A huge building loomed at the end of the street, reminding me of Buckingham Palace or the Taj Mahal—big, white, and fancy. But with a magical twist, as more of the firefly lights glittered around the top domes.

“That’s the Illuminarium,” Ares said.

“Impressive.”

We sailed through the crowd, which parted like the Red Sea. When the Pūķi swooped out of the air to join us, their fiery red forms hovering above, people’s gazes turned from curious to awed. And they were aimed right at me.

“Why are they looking at me like that?” I murmured.

“Not used to seeing the Pūķi, which are clearly following you.”

Which made me special. That could be both good and bad, depending. Since my specialness was related to me defeating Drakon and saving the world’s magic, I was going to go with sorta bad. It was a weight that I didn’t want on my shoulders. But the only way to remove the weight was to succeed.

I hurried my pace, determined to make use of every minute we had. With Drakon always a step ahead of us, I needed to use my time wisely.

The Illuminarium loomed overhead as we approached. The road led right up to the gate.

The intricately twisted wrought iron was beautiful, forming swoops and swirls that would keep out intruders while impressing the hell out of them. Beyond, fountains shot out of the ground, synchronized jets of water that glinted in the moonlight. A hundred yards away, the white building gleamed.

“Your culture idolizes knowledge,” I said.

“Yes. It’s the best way to ensure a safe and happy life.”

“How do we get in?”

“This way.” Ares pressed his hand to the iron gate. Magic glowed, then the gate swung open.

Power sparkled across my skin as we stepped through the wide opening. I couldn’t quite pinpoint it, but it was both eerie and nice at the same time.

A row of fountains led straight to the building fifty yards away. Hundreds of jets of water shot up and splashed down. Between them, shadowy white figures drifted. Almost like ghosts in robes.

“What are they?” I whispered.

“Memories of knowledge,” Ares said. “They are what help give this place its magic.”

They ignored us as if we weren’t here, hundreds of them. “Why wasn’t I able to see them before?”

“They’ve chosen to reveal themselves. It’s a good sign.” He glanced down at me. “Not everyone is permitted entrance to the Illuminarium.”

“Why?”

He shrugged. “Not everyone is worthy.”

We passed by the ghosts and the fountains, finally reaching the massive steps that led up to the entrance. The architecture was so odd—a combination of many styles. Ancient Greek, Northern European, Indian. As if the builder had taken his favorite styles and smashed them all together.

We climbed the stairs. Huge wooden doors swung open, permitting us entrance to a round room built entirely of white stone.

“They sure do like their white here,” I murmured.

Ares chuckled.

In the middle of the room, a basin of water sat on a pedestal. There was nothing else. Not even a door. It was deadly silent.

“Where’s the door?”

“I don’t know.” Ares inspected the space. “This room changes for everyone who enters.”

I walked around the perimeter, searching for a hidden exit. After a few minutes, it was clear that there was none. “No one is coming to greet us, are they?”

“It doesn’t seem that way.”

I shivered, the energy in the air making my skin prickle. It was almost expectant. As if we were being watched.

I turned back toward the center of the room. Ares stood next to the fountain in the middle, gazing into the depths.

I stepped toward him, and the room went black.

My hair stood on end. “Ares?”

No response.

“Ares!”

Silence.

Heart pounding, I called upon my magic, envisioning a torch. But none appeared in my hand. My conjuring wasn’t working. I tried again, forcing all of my power into creating a torch. Or a weapon.

Nothing.

My magic was dead inside me, like the ghosts out in the courtyard.

Real fear swept through me, chilling my skin. I reached out, stumbling forward. “Ares!”

Silence.

He really wasn’t there.

My heartbeat thundered in my ears, nearly drowning out the sound of lapping waves.

Lapping waves? There was water here?

The sound came from all around. I squinted into the pitch black, desperate to see.

There was nothing but blackness and the sound of the water. Slowly, I walked forward, arms outstretched.

My foot splashed against water. My throat tightened, making it hard to breathe. From the lapping of the waves, it sounded like I was surrounded. I bent, dipping my fingertips into the water. The scent of sulfur tickled my nose as pain sliced through my hand.

“Ah!” I jerked my hand back, shaking it and panting hard. The burn was like acid, eating away at the tips of my fingers. Tears prickled my eyes.

Holy shit. I was surrounded by an acid sea.

I’d only ever heard of such things.

I stumbled back from the water, mind racing. Again, I tried to conjure a torch or a light. But nothing happened.

There was a reason for this. It wasn’t random. And there would be a way out.

I would find it.

I dragged in a ragged breath, forcing my mind to calm. What had Ares said about this place? That not everyone was permitted to enter here and that the place changed depending on the person.

Me.

And it stopped me from using my magic.

Which made it a test. But of what? Not of my power or my magical strength.

Something else, then.

A sharp cry rent the air.

A baby.

I spun, frantic, but could see nothing. The cry came again, the loud squall of a baby in distress. A really young baby.

My heart thundered as thoughts raced through my head.

The cry came again, sharper and higher. To my left. Not far. Danger pricked on the air, a threat so strong that it stung my skin. I couldn’t tell what it was, but it was going for the child.

I raced toward the cry, my boots splashing into the acid sea. How long would the leather protect me? Would I have to swim to the baby? Could I even survive that?

The cry—sharper now. I gritted my teeth and stepped deeper into the water.

A warm red light glowed, temporarily blinding me. I blinked. The room was lit with red light, enough for me to see that there was a stone path through the acid sea, just to my left. Near it, a bassinet floated on the water, like something from myth or legend. All around, the sea stretched out, tiny ripples breaking the surface. The room had no more walls, and the patch of land upon which I stood was the size of my living room.

Overhead, the Pūķi fluttered, their glowing scarlet bodies providing the light.

“Thank you.” My voice was desperate, tinged with tears.

I raced for the pathway made of stones jutting from the water. Quickly, I leapt across, heading for the bassinet. It looked to be sinking, slowly dipping deeper into the water as the acid cut into the wicker.

The squalling of the child chilled my skin. I moved faster, teetering on the stones as my haste made me clumsy.

Panting, I reached the bassinet, grabbing the handle and swooping it up. The pale red light of the Pūķi illuminated the interior of the bassinet.

Empty.

The crying stopped.

My shoulders sagged.

Definitely a test, then.

All that fear for nothing. I almost tossed the bassinet back into the sea, but then clutched it to my chest. That seemed disrespectful, and in all the ancient tasks, disrespect was punished.

Holding the bassinet, I spun in a circle, balancing on my rock, muscles straining from tension.

“Where next?” I asked the Pūķi. The stone path led into the distance in one direction and back to shore in the other. I had to choose.

The Pūķi had nothing to say. Instead, they fluttered overhead, dragon lanterns that kept me from plunging to a terrible death.

“Since I know where I’ve been, I might as well go somewhere new.”

With the bassinet clutched to my side, I turned and hopped across the stones that led into the blackness.

“Ares!” I called.

No response, just the lapping of the waves against the rocks upon which I stood. Worry tightened in my chest, but I forced it away. It wouldn’t help me finish this. And Ares could take care of himself—I had faith in that. This was probably just a test for me, anyway.

Finally, I caught sight of land just ahead. Flat and rocky, just like where I’d come from. Except that my stone pathway stopped about ten feet short of the shore.

I couldn’t jump that.

I swallowed hard, looking around for anything to help.

Nothing caught my eye. Just the acid sea and the far shore. The bassinet dragged at my arm, suddenly heavier. I look inside. A coiled rope had appeared.

I grinned. Good thing I hadn’t chucked the bassinet into the sea.

Though I had no idea what to do with it, I withdrew the rope. The prickly hemp scratched my palms.

The rope writhed and shifted, turning into a snake with glinting green scales. A small shriek escaped me just as the snake leapt from my hands.

I swore it had grinned at me, fangs shining in the light.

It plunged into the acid sea, then raced for shore, cutting through the water like a great anaconda. It grew as it swam, stretching between the shore and the stone I stood upon.

When it reached the bank, it stopped. The tail was at my feet, flicking on the stone.

“Oh fates.” I swallowed hard, studying the snake.

His body grew wider and flatter. A bridge?

When he turned his head back to look at me, the invitation was clear in his gleaming black eyes.

“Are you serious?” I asked the snake.

He didn’t really nod, but it looked like he smiled. Could snakes even smile?

I took it to be a yes and tentatively moved a foot toward his back. I pressed down with a bit of weight, heart thudding in my ears. When his back didn’t bow and he didn’t slither away, a weak laugh escaped me.

“All right, then. I think I’m in a weird fairytale.” I stepped on the snake’s back fully.

I hesitated just briefly, awed at the insane circumstance—I mean, I was used to weird magic but a friendly snake bridge?—then I raced across, balancing on the back of my new friend.

I leapt over his head, landing on solid ground. I laughed, sounding crazed to my own ears, then turned.

The snake was already shrinking and slithering away, not at all bothered by the acid.

“Thanks!” I called to his retreating back.

The Pūķi flew over to hover above my head. I looked up. “Have you ever seen anything like that?”

They just stared at me.

“I’ll assume you agree with me.” I turned to search the area where I stood. It was dark and barren, lit with the Pūķi’s eerie red glow. “Onward.” I clutched the bassinet and moved forward.

It wasn’t long before a great big stone appeared in front of me. It was the size of an office desk. A sword stuck out of the top of it.

“You have got to be kidding me,” I muttered.

The Pūķi fluttered down to sit on the ground near the stone. Their gazes riveted to the gleaming blade. I approached, studying the sword.

“That’s my blade!” I cried.

I didn’t care that I’d moved fully into talking-to-myself territory. This was too weird. That was the sword that Laima, the goddess of fate, had given me. How did it get here?

I reached out, gingerly touching the end of the pommel.

It didn’t feel quite right. A replica of my blade.

“I guess this makes me Arthur.” I peered into the bassinet at my side, just to see if another helpful thing would appear. Maybe a chatty baby would explain what the heck was going on.

But of course there was nothing in the bassinet.

So I set it on the ground and turned back to the sword. I rubbed my hands together and tried to think worthy thoughts. Things like helping old ladies across the street and cleaning up trash on the sidewalk.

I wrapped my hands around the hilt and propped my boot on the stone, then I yanked with all my might, giving it everything I had.

I flew backward, sword gripped tightly in my hand, and landed hard on my butt.

Pain flared through my tailbone, and tears popped to my eyes. Through the tears, the blade sparkled in the red light of the Pūķi’s glow.

Damn. That had hurt. Probably should have tried with a little less force.

I climbed to my feet, aching.

This worthiness stuff was tough.

In front of me, the stone transformed into the white basin that had originally sat in the center of the room. The darkness receded, as did the acid sea. Light returned, the walls around me gleaming white.

I spun, searching for Ares.

He lay on his back at the side of the room.

“Ares!”