Wings beat in the night sky, the sound whirring in my ears as I climbed out of my bedroom window. Jerking my gaze skyward, I narrowed my eyes, letting out a sigh as a tiny black bat flew by. A thin slice of moonlight revealed its pointed wings and red eyes. Was it an omen?
Shaking my head to dislodge my guilt, I wiggled onto the roof and used the stucco siding as a handhold to guide my way to the ground. It wasn’t the first time I’d snuck out of the palace, but tonight, I had a dark purpose. Tonight, I planned to rob a saint’s tomb.
When my feet touched the ground, I took a deep breath and scanned the area. The guards were indoors, likely drinking ale to warm themselves against the cool night and harassing the servant girls sent down to keep them company. Although no sounds of torment carried into the courtyard, I hurried across it, keeping to the shadows.
If they caught me—no, I wouldn’t think about it. The bruise on my stomach had only just healed from the last time I’d displeased my uncle, Lord Faren of Dowler. He’d punched me so hard I couldn’t breathe without pain for two days, leading up to my decision to stop just thinking about escape and to take action. The side gate was ajar, just as I’d left it earlier, and I slipped out, following the path toward the graveyard.
The walk would be faster on horseback, but the noise would alert the night watch, which ensured the citizens of Dowler stayed indoors after curfew. My chief concern wasn’t being caught by the guards, or my room being discovered empty—for after a few unsavory incidents, I’d gotten wise and started to lock it each night. No, my primary worry was what lay in the graveyard and whether the rumors about monsters were true or false.
The half-moon sulked behind a cloud, making the night more eerie. A breeze kicked up, cold like dead fingers, forcing me to pull my cloak tighter around my neck. Even though it was only late summer, the mountain air always held a bite, making me long for the warmth of Solynn. Tonight’s theft would allow me to return to the city where everything had gone wrong. What I’d do once I arrived, I wasn’t sure, but one step at a time. I had to focus on tonight’s plan and unravel the future once I escaped this cursed place.
The graveyard was a plot of land near the outskirts of the city, and I was out of breath by the time I arrived. I slowed, searching for signs of life.
“Tanith?” came a low murmur.
“Carter?” I whispered back, my scalp prickling as I neared the field of death. My accomplices had come, which meant there was no turning back now.
“We’re here,” he confirmed.
I climbed over the low stone wall and pulled back the cowl of my cloak. A lantern sat in the overgrown grass, giving off a small pool of light, enough for me to see the faces of the orphaned brothers who worked in the palace: Carter, a lean youth of about twenty and his seventeen-year-old brother, Kinder. Carter was smitten with me, and it hadn’t been difficult to persuade him to assist me tonight, while Kinder followed along because he was a bit slow and easily intimidated.
I tugged at the clasp of my cloak, chest tight, as we huddled together. If caught, I’d be subjected to a lecture from my aunt, Lady Matzie of Dowler, and some violence from my uncle, but Carter and Kinder, as mere servants, would be severely punished. I’d never forgive myself if I were the reason they were beaten.
“We shouldn’t be doing this.” Kinder’s voice quavered.
“We’ll be quick,” I reassured him, for I had no desire to linger among the departed souls any longer than necessary. Superstition held it was bad luck to disturb the dead, but considering my uncle’s violence, the blood rituals at the temple, and the scent of rot that wafted up from somewhere beneath the palace, I’d take my chances with the dead. “Carter, can we get into the mausoleum?”
Carter’s voice surged with pride. “I stole the keys from the groundskeeper two nights ago and he didn’t even notice.”
Mouth dry, I turned back to Kinder. “Stand watch. If anyone comes, hoot like an owl and disappear.”
“I will, but hurry. It’s creepy out here,” he fretted.
I nodded in agreement. We could not get caught. If we heard anything odd, we were supposed to run in different directions and disappear as quickly as possible. If anyone was out, they’d assume it was the spirits haunting the graveyard. At least, that was the hope.
“I brought shovels in case we need to dig up anything,” Carter said. “And here, I have extra candles.”
His fingers were rough but steady as they brushed mine. I tucked the candles into my pocket, determined to do this with steely courage. The dead did not need the relics they were buried with. We did.
“Let’s go,” I told him.
We crept through the long grass to the mausoleum, a small building in the heart of the graveyard, carved with glyphs and guarded by statues to honor Saint Dowler, for whom the city was named. He’d founded it hundreds of years ago by cutting a path through the mountains and using the surrounding river to make it prosperous. The citizens treated Saint Dowler like a god and even left offerings for him during the turn of each season to ensure continued blessings and wealth.
Rumor had it that when he died, the people had buried a portion of his wealth with him, which was why the mausoleum was kept under lock and key. But an aura of fear surrounded the graveyard, and I often wondered why the tomb of a saint who was so revered was on the outskirts of the city instead of behind the temple, where my uncle’s family line was buried.
Three steps led up to the door, and Carter pushed his shoulder against it, the sound of stones scrapping against each other loud in the silence. Stale air assaulted my senses and a sudden panic clawed up my throat, making me long for the fresh night air. Pressing a hand to my stomach, I forced myself to step inside. If we succeeded—no, when we succeeded—I’d finally be free of my uncle’s violence and the threat of hidden corruption that laced the palace. This would be over soon. I could stave off my panic long enough to finance my return to Solynn.
“Here.” Carter passed me one of the shovels.
A moment later, a torch flared, casting a pale glow around us. Just inside, a set of stairs led into darkness. Goose bumps went up my arms as Carter led the way down, holding up the light. I could feel the cold stone even through my shoes, as if death were seeping through the rock, trying to find me. When we reached the bottom, a sense of foreboding passed over me, making it difficult to forget about the supposed curses that haunted those who disturbed the dead.
“Look,” Carter said. His voice wobbled, making him sound both younger and smaller.
He waved the torch, allowing us to see the sloped walls and the empty space ahead. My throat tightened.
“Wait, this can’t be right.” Where was the elaborate tomb with offerings stacked around it?
Shifting the shovel to my other hand, I grabbed the torch from Carter and stepped further into the open space, my scalp prickling. There had to be another layer to the tomb. But why go through all the trouble of building a large crypt when St. Dowler was the only one buried here?
And then I saw it, a narrow passage leading downhill into darkness. I marched toward it, Carter following somewhat reluctantly behind me. The flickering flame revealed frescos painted on the stone. I longed to stop and decipher their meanings, but time was of the essence.
A slight wind came out of nowhere as I stepped into an open space and held the torch up high. A silver glimmer came from the middle of the room, growing brighter as we approached.
“Oh.” Awe stole my voice as I spun slowly. This was what I had expected.
Stone columns and arches towered above me, and the torch light caught on openings, a labyrinth of passageways that led deeper into the crypt. A coffin sat on a dais, so high that a set of stairs led up to it. Atop the coffin was the glowing, silver prism, but my eyes were drawn to the treasure surrounding it: old books covered in cobwebs, pottery so coated in dust it was hard to tell whether it was worth anything, weapons covered in rust, statues of hideous beasts—jewelry hanging off their necks and arms—and precious stones scattered like pebbles in the road.
Relief made my knees weak. Leaning the shovel against the wall, I put the torch in one of the two holders by the door. It only cast a small pool of light, but it was enough as I opened my satchel and moved to the treasure.
I expected a low whistle of surprise from Carter, but when I glanced over my shoulder, he stood rigid at the entrance to the room. Impatience snapped around me. “Come on, we have little time,” I hissed.
Carter’s face was pale, a sheen of sweat shining on his brow. He licked his lips and shook his head. “Kinder was right, this is wrong.”
“You weren’t afraid when we planned this,” I scoffed. My words sounded brave, but I had to admit, a sacred aura hung in the air. Would I be cursed if I stole from a dead saint?
“I know, but now that we’re here, I see this is wrong. The dead need their gifts for the afterlife and if we steal from them, especially from a saint, there will be consequences.”
I crossed my arms and sighed, wanting to lash out, but knowing it would only drive Carter away. He was a sweet boy, and he’d only gone along with the idea to please me. Putting on my best coaxing tone, I tried to persuade him. “We’re already here. The hard part of sneaking out and not getting caught is over. We just have to grab the treasure and then we’ll leave.”
Shaking his head, Carter stepped back. “This isn’t right. We need to leave. Now.”
I frowned, trying to ignore the ball of anxiety that lay in the pit of my stomach. When I closed my eyes, I recalled the smack of a fist against my flesh, and the pain that rocked through my core. It was all the motivation I needed. With a sigh, I gave in. “Go, stand guard with Kinder. I won’t be long.”
“I’m sorry, Tanith,” Carter apologized.
Spinning on my heel so I wouldn’t see him leave, I marched toward the treasure. I did not want to be alone in the tomb, but if I moved quickly, it should only take a few minutes. I could handle some momentary discomfort to finance my escape. Opening my satchel, I stuffed in jewelry and as many coins as possible. When I reached Solynn, I’d go to a jeweler to determine the true value of these treasures. My fingers danced over the thick books and fat scrolls that lay on the steps. If I had more time, I would have loved to read them. Surely the saint had possessed ancient wisdom and knowledge, although why these books were buried with him I could not fathom.
The flame of the torch flickered, reminding me that time was running out. My gaze moved to the coffin and the silver glow hovering above it. That ball of dread inside tightened and as I reached for more treasure, pain lashed across my skin. Sucking in a deep breath, I jerked my palm to my chest. Looking down, I realized I’d inadvertently picked up a knife. Even though the years should have dulled the blade, a river of blood dripped down my hand and my pulse pounded as I waited for the initial pain to subside.
A far off sound drifted to my ears, a faint call like the hoot of an owl. I froze, whipping my head around to the entrance, where the torch burned even lower. I licked my lips. Someone was coming. Forgetting about my wound, I leaped to my feet, knocking over pottery. It fell with a crash, sending shards of broken clay flying across the floor. A pile of coins came loose and slid down the steps. In the silence, the noise was terrifying, and a whimper came from my lips. I’d stolen enough. Time to go.
But as I moved, the silver prism winked, capturing my vision. Somehow it had fallen off the coffin and was perched on the first stair, merely a foot above me, as though it wanted me to take it. I hesitated. The object was an artifact that belonged in the tomb, but it was a rare find. If I didn’t take it, I’d regret it. Besides, it might be worth enough to give me back the life I’d had before my parents died, before I was forced to come to Dowler.
I made up my mind in a flash and lunged for it. My fingers closed around its cold, hard mass, the blood on my fingers making it slippery. I cupped it in my hands and blew across the surface. Dust danced away like a cloud and the silver glow turned blue. A comfortable warmness flooded through my skin and a sense of peace came over me as I held the prism.
No, it was a pyramid, made of crystal and heavy in my palm. Inside, the glow came from a rock suspended at the top. Below it was a collection of obsidian stones, flakes of gold, and some sort of design. Were those words? I peered closer, brushing my finger over the top. My blood smeared on it, a reminder that I needed to leave and bandage my cut. I could examine the stolen treasures later.
Dropping the pyramid into my satchel, I started toward the exit, but the ground beneath my feet shook. I glanced back at the coffin, now dark without the pyramid’s light. Maybe my movements had disturbed something. Mouth dry, I considered all the passageways, stretching out into who knows where. There were no signs of life aside from myself in the crypt, but something malevolent might dwell here.
Taking a deep breath to calm my rising panic, I broke into a run, but the tremor came again, halting my forward momentum. Holding out my arms to steady myself, I walked, hoping the slower pace would help me keep my balance, but the shaking increased until it felt like the beginning of an earthquake. I lost my balance and landed heavily on my side.
Coins spilled from my satchel. Cursing, I scrambled on all fours to snatch them up. The shaking continued, making my teeth rattle in my skull. I worked quickly, crawling closer to the nearest passageway until the torch lost its perch and fell, plunging me into utter darkness.
I hissed as cool threads of fear gathered around me and the shaking stopped. Shakily, I rose to my feet, hands reaching for the candle and flint that should be in my pocket, when hands locked around my waist and yanked me backward.
