The soft sound of distant shouts reached her ears, bringing Kaley to shift her footing. Her fingers fell from the book, and she moved to the gap, studying the jagged edges of the shell that looked as sharp as glass. But they felt soft and rubbery beneath her thumb. She tugged at them, finding them stretchy. She nearly had the time pocket yanked back together when a clang echoed through the dark room beyond, and a scream followed.

Kaley’s attention darted into the dimness, to the breath of light curving ‘round the staircase at the end of the room. The clanging continued, the shouts increasing. She let the fabric of the pocket slip from her hands and trained her eyes on the spiral staircase as she stepped into the dark basement, past the warm dome she had dwelled in for a good measure.

At the foot of the stairs, a clang and a crash from above drew her to creep up. ‘Round and ‘round she went until she came to a room of stained-glass windows and carved end tables, with an arched opening that reminded her of a modest church lobby. The clattering thrummed in Kaley’s ears as she inched to the arch to spy into the next room. When she saw what lay beyond, her blood ran cold.

Six boys with pointed-toe boots and raven-black coats stood back-to-back among tipped over wooden benches and mounds of shattered stained glass.

Kaley stumbled back.

Limbs burst from a black mist overhead, lapping up boys like hungry tongues until only one remained. The blackness hovered over the last boy, and a low, beastly voice whispered from the darkness.

The boy tossed his staff to the floor, drawing forth a set of medallions with trembling hands. “Glory to Elowin,” he gritted. He smashed the medallions together and popping sounds echoed through the room. White snow surged in through a broken window, covering the boy like a hand, and when it settled, the boy in raven-black had vanished.

Kaley couldn’t breathe. The coil of blackness turned, and she felt a set of unseen eyes spot where she peeked ‘round the arch. She fled, clamouring down the spiral staircase, hearing wind and shadow rage down the stairs behind her.

She raced across the basement floor, bursting into the time pocket and grabbing the jagged edges of the gap. She pulled the fabric together, releasing a cry until the ends sealed, halting the furious shadow that lay beyond.

Kaley tripped back a step, knocking over her chair.

The black cloud filled the basement, dark and infinite, tendrils curling slowly in sluggish time. At the cusp of the shadow, the edge of a large, engraved helmet peeked from the mist, with metal arches o’er the eyes. But there were no eyes inside.

All was quiet, apart from Kaley’s heavy breathing. And then, from the back of the pocket, a Volume piped up:

“Have you heard about the broken star turned to fools’ gold and guarded by eight hands or feet?”