Merk turned, heart pounding with excitement, and slammed the door with his palm, knowing he had the answer this time, feeling it as certain as he felt he was alive. He also knew somehow that this time, they would answer the door.

Merk was not surprised when the slot in the door slid back instantly. Whoever was behind that door seemed to sense the shift in him.

“I am not worthy!” Merk called out quickly, in a rush, thrilled by his realization. “And that is precisely why I am worthy to enter here—because I know I am not. Because I am willing to become worthy. None of us are born worthy. Only those who realize this have the chance to become worthy. I am worthy because I am…nothing.”

Merk stared back at the fierce yellow eyes, which seemed to examine him for a long time, expressionless. He sensed something shift between them as a long, tense silence followed. He knew his whole future depended on these next few moments, on whether this man would let him through those doors.

But Merk’s heart slammed like a lid on a coffin as the metal latch slammed closed again.

He was crestfallen. A long silence ensued, an echoing silence that seemed to last forever.

Merk stood there, shocked. He could not understand. He had been so sure he had been right, had felt it without a doubt. He stood there, staring. He had no idea where to go, no idea what else to do with his life.

Suddenly, to his shock, there came the sound of multiple latches opening, echoing behind the silver doors—and soon, the silver doors began to open slowly. First they opened just a crack; then the crack widened.

Merk stood outside, mouth agape, as an intense light began to flood him, to beckon him. He knew that once he passed through those doors his life would change forever, and as they widened all the way and the light flooded over him, he was breathless. As he took that first, fateful step, he could hardly believe what he saw before him.

CHAPTER THIRTY TWO

Duncan braced himself as the ice bats engulfed him, squealing in his ears, clawing him in every direction. His skin scratched, the bats swarmed him, pulling at his hair, slicing him anywhere they could find, and with each cut he felt himself growing weaker. On his back the wounded soldier groaned, while beside him, Seavig cried out as he swatted at them unsuccessfully. Separated up here from the rest of his men, far from the plateau, and getting weaker with each moment, Duncan knew he would not survive.