The stick jumps in her hands.

At least, it looks as if it does. We all gasp—even Kipp—and take a step back. Gwenna flings it away from herself, and the stick skids across the floor. At the edge of the light, I can see it slowly come to a stop, pointing down one particular tunnel.

I look over at my former maid. “What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything,” she protests. She wrings her hands, frowning. “All I did was pick it up.”

Lark nudges her from behind. “Pick it up again.”

Gwenna looks reluctant. She eyes me, seeking advice. I shrug, because I have no idea. This wasn’t in any book I ever read. She takes the rod between two fingers, as if it’s filthy, and grimaces. “I don’t have magic in my blood.”

“Maybe you do,” Mereden breathes, her eyes wide. “Maybe you’re descended from a secret line of Prellian kings.”

“It’s more likely that I was descended from Prellian maids,” she retorts, but slowly, calmly grips the stick again and points it at the nearest cavern wall. “All right. If you can show us to the artifacts, please do.”

The stick twitches in her grip and we all jump.

As I watch, she turns slowly, and it’s as if the stick is pulling her forward. She surges ahead, the rope pulling taut as she takes the lead.

“Wait,” I cry. “Let’s turn around. Lark, get closer to her so you can light the way.”

We reshuffle ourselves while the stick twitches and jumps in Gwenna’s grasp, as if impatient. When Kipp and I are at the back, Gwenna takes the lead again, letting the stick point the way. We follow behind it as it takes us down one of the tunnels we’ve already walked a half dozen times, surging forward. The tunnel ends in a rock fall full of massive boulders, and it’s far too much for our measly pickaxes to handle, so we had turned around.

“I promise I’m not doing this,” Gwenna calls back to us as it leads us on deeper into the collapsed tunnel. “It’s like it’s alive when I touch it.”

“Just find us something to take back,” Lark tells her. “We won’t tell anyone that you’re a mancer.”

Gwenna jerks to a halt. “I’m not a mancer!”

“But someone in your family lineage might have been,” Mereden says helpfully.

Gwenna’s jaw clenches and she gives me a worried look. “I’m not a mancer,” she says again, and continues down the tunnel.

“No one’s accusing you of being a mancer,” I say soothingly. It’s a valid fear—personal magic has been outlawed since the Mancer Wars, and all mancers were put to death by the king. Poor Gwenna is going to be terrified if Mereden keeps bringing it up, and I make a mental note to talk to her about it later.

We follow along for a time as the tunnel narrows. Gwenna frowns to herself as she lets it drag her along, and then the stick seems to turn, leading us back the way we came and away from the rock fall. The stick stops her halfway down, pointing at the wall of the tunnel. “I wasn’t sure, but…right here. It keeps finding something right here.”

“It’s a wall,” Lark points out unhelpfully.

“Well, there’s something on the other side.”

“You’re sure?”

Gwenna sputters at Lark, furious. “Of course I’m not sure! We’re following a fucking stick!”

I put a hand up and step between the two. “All right. Let’s calm down. It’s the best lead we have, even if it’s a stick, so we might as well give things a try.” I glance over at the cavern wall. It, well, looks like solid rock. “We can try to break through and see what we find. Does everyone have their pickaxes?”

Mereden raises her hand. “What if we collapse the tunnel because we hammer too hard on the wall?”

I stare at her. By the gods, does she have to bring up something like that? “Then Hawk will come and rescue us,” I say promptly. “But if you’ve got a better idea of a place to dig, I’d like to hear it.” When no one speaks up, I gesture at the wall that the dowsing rod had singled out. “All right, then, let’s give it a try. And if you feel like the tunnel is about to collapse…say something.”

Kipp huffs at that, but he’s the first one to strike the wall.

I pick up my pickaxe and strike at the wall, too, though I don’t know how much good I’m doing. I can’t swing full strength because we’re all still roped together and standing close to one another. I’m also tired and hungry, and a little wary of hammering away at what looks like solid rock.

But we set to work anyhow, because a stick told us to.

It doesn’t take long before the solid-looking rock cracks under one of Mereden’s strikes. Then, like a fragile eggshell, it shatters in a dozen places as we poke at it. Soon we have a hole in the wall, and when Lark shoves the lantern toward it, we can see a chamber on the other side. “It’s hollow?”

I exchange a look with Gwenna. The dowsing rod wasn’t wrong. There really was something on the other side. “Should we go through?”

“Unless you just wanted to knock a hole through the wall and leave?” Lark retorts. “Come on. Get the rod again and let’s see what’s on the other side.”

“So brave now, are we?” Gwenna murmurs.

Kipp is the first one through, the slitherskin seemingly fearless despite this newest reveal. I step through after him, clutching my shield at the shadows around us. The tunnel behind us was smooth, but even with Lark’s bobbing light still on the other side, I can see there are a lot more shapes here. I squint at the shadows as something decidedly human looms in the darkness.

I step over someone’s pack, my heart pounding. Have we broken through the wall to the other team? Are we going to get into trouble now?

But then Lark’s light bobs its way onto our side, and with relief, I can see that the form isn’t human at all. It’s a statue of a man, the stern expression on his face and the headdress denoting it as Prellian. It stands nearly upright, a beautiful work of art amidst the rubble.

“Oh my gods,” Mereden cries.

“What?” Gwenna asks from the other side of the rock. “What is it?”

“It’s a body,” Lark replies, and her voice is hushed with horror.

I chuckle. “I thought the same thing, too, but it’s a statue. A lovely one.” I want to move forward to touch it, but the rope is taut between us, and no one seems to be stepping deeper into the new cavern except me. I can’t take my eyes off the thing, though. The face is expressive, the lines around the mouth conveying a stern disapproval even as the figure cradles a child with a circlet to his breast. A king and his heir, possibly? I’ve seen that in other Prellian art—

“Aspeth.” Lark moves to my side and grabs me by the arms. She points at the carving I’m so enamored with. “That is a statue.” She forcibly turns me and points at the ground. “That is a fucking body.”

I stare.

I thought I’d stepped over a backpack. That in our efforts to get through the new hole into the chamber, someone had discarded their pack and I’d simply moved over it, far more fascinated with the ruins in front of us.

But it is a body. Gwenna kneels next to it, peeling back an old, faded cloak that falls apart in her grasp. There’s nothing left of the body but a skeleton and some rusty bits of armor. At his side is a lump that might have once been a pack but is now just another rotted blob. Fuzzy greenish lichen grows over everything, and a worm crawls out of one of the empty eye sockets of the skull.

I scream.

Mereden screams.

Lark screams and bolts for the other side of the wall. We stumble after her, the rope tugging on us and adding to the sense of urgency. I’m dimly aware of Kipp racing at my side, of Mereden’s hand on my back as we run through the tunnel, following after Lark’s bobbing light.

“Where are you going?” Gwenna cries, her voice behind us.

“I don’t fucking know,” Lark cries back. “Away!”

Away sounds good.

I race with them, and the tunnels slope upward. No one points out that we’re heading toward Magpie and camp. No one needs to. Camp feels the safest right now. The tunnel walls seem to close in around us, the darkness and stale air oppressive, until I’m sobbing with fear, and I’m not the only one. I can hear Mereden’s thin whimpers filling the tunnels, along with Lark’s heaving breaths.