“Maybe we didn’t do it right.” Although I couldn’t see her face clearly, I could picture her concentrated frown in perfect detail. “I’ll bet the answers are somewhere in Gracie’s journal.”
She reached into her pocket to retrieve the book, but I held up my palm to stop her. “Tomorrow, okay? I’ve had enough drama for one evening.” Had I really just said that? I turned to go back. Everything would make more sense—logical sense—after a good night’s sleep and a triple latte. “Right now I just want to go home.”
“Wait!”
It was the way she said it that stopped me. The expectancy in her tone—awed and hopeful, and totally out of place given the circumstances—made my heart drop. Then she said, “Look.”
The mist began to form lazy swirls that evaporated before my eyes. I blinked, grasping for context as my lack of comprehension changed to shock. Sacred Stephen Schwartz! The bridge no longer spanned the river but ended in ruins at the halfway point. If I had taken two more steps, I would’ve been smashed into kibble against the rocks below.
“What the—?” As if my brain finally caught up with my feet, I jumped back. My heart thumped painfully in my chest as I knocked against Vee.
One of her hands reached out absently to steady me. “Mountains.”
Puzzled, I spun toward her. She wasn’t warning me about the drop-off as I’d assumed, but rather gawking in the opposite direction. In the distance where the sea should have been, huge purplish mountains stood silhouetted against a rose-colored horizon. Between us and the far-off peaks loomed gleaming white turrets.
Vee’s soft whisper tickled against my ear. “Are we where I think we are?”
What moments ago seemed like a fairy tale now appeared to be impossibly and unsettlingly real. Yet it couldn’t be true. My entire body began to tremble. Keeping my eyes fixed on the terrible castle in the distance, I whispered back, “I seriously hope not.”
CHAPTER 7
Veronica
All the hope in the world hadn’t prepared me for standing on the soil of a mythical land, the sun rising where moments before the moon had dominated an inky-black sky. The realization that it should’ve been closer to midnight than morning must’ve hit Kenna and I at the same time. Instinctively, we clung to one another as we moved onto the riverbank. Somewhere in the distance a trumpet sounded, followed by the cheering of men—lots of them—their voices like shards of ice scraping across my skin.
My friend yelped and grasped me even tighter.
Struggling to gain my bearings, my gaze locked on mountain peaks that sprouted out of the ground like some monstrous version of Jack’s magic beanstalk. The tiny hairs rose on my arms. How was any of this possible?
“I’m going back,” Kenna declared, letting go of my shoulders.
I teetered precariously for a moment before gaining my balance. When I whirled around, Kenna was marching back toward the bridge, where tendrils of mist still swirled and coalesced, leaving only the first few feet of stone visible. Before my eyes, the undulating mass solidified into a giant barrier over seven feet high.
“Kenna, wait!” I began to run, but my legs felt mired in knee-high mud. “The fog’s too thick!” If she tried to cross, would the ring light up and complete the ruined bridge, or would she topple blindly over the edge?
Just as her feet hit the ancient stones, she stopped. The wall of fog loomed before her, pulsing like a living beast ready to suck her in and never let go. I reached out and grabbed her arm, hauling her backward so that she stumbled away from the bridge and collapsed onto the grassy bank.
“This can’t be happening! The stupid bridge was supposed to—” Her voice broke as she buried her face in her hands. “What do we do now?”
Kneeling beside her, I wrapped my arms around her shaking form. “Shh. It’s okay. We’ll figure it out.”