I glanced at Locryn. “This must have taken weeks to create.”

He smiled. “Dwarves can work quick miracles when required.”

“And when enough money is thrown your way,” Lugh said, his voice amused.

“That too,” Locryn agreed sagely. “You still got the map back to the museum we sent you?”

“You’re not waiting for us?” I asked, surprised.

“Not being paid to wait,” Brega said. “And the museum’s an easy enough stroll from here.”

I had a feeling their version of an easy stroll was far different from ours. But Lugh simply nodded and shook both their hands.

“Appreciate the help at such short notice.”

“Anytime, Lugh.” Locryn’s quick grin revealed multiple wrinkles and a shiny gold front tooth. “Especially at the rates you’re paying.”

“Enough of that.” Brega lightly nudged her partner’s shoulder. “Don’t be worrying about the ladder, Lugh—we’ll come back and get rid of it when you’re done.”

Given there was no actual ladder to be seen, I presumed she was referring to the small mound of rubble positioned against the wall underneath the shaft. It was just high enough to allow someone my height to step up onto the first set of footholds. They must have already removed some of the digging waste, because there wasn’t enough here given the depth of the shaft. It also wasn't high enough for either of them to clamber easily into the shaft.

As the two of them disappeared into the darkness of the tunnel, I wondered if our follower was still around. The air had no tales to tell right now, but instinct suggested he or she hadn’t gone away.

Of course, instinct did tend to be something of a pessimist.

I glanced at my brother. “How long ago did you ask them to do this?”

“Around the same time the fae council called a halt on the museum’s investigations into Agrona Claws.”

There were three items that made up the goddess’s claws—a crown, a sword, and a ring. According to legend, they could control shadows, darkness, and ruin—which we were presuming meant the destruction of crops, leading to famine and even pestilence. When used together, they apparently had the power to change the very essence of the world by either extending the night or banishing it altogether.

And extending light was what we suspected the Looisearch—the people behind it all—intended. By ensuring night no longer existed, they believed the Annwfyn—who were a distant branch of elves existing in a place alongside yet apart from our world, and who considered human, fae, and shifter flesh something of a delicacy—could never again hunt in this world.

The trouble with their whole plan was the fact that, while the Annwfyn appeared to make every attempt to avoid sunshine and any form of artificial light, no one had any real data on whether they could exist within it. It wasn’t like anyone could risk asking, given their culinary tastes.

We’d already lost the crown to the Looisearch. We couldn’t afford—the world couldn’t afford—to also lose the sword or the ring.