He was Isaac Wolf. He took a deep breath. He had to unravel the tangle of threads he’d been handed, so he’d better get started.

Isaac swallowed hard and leaned closer to the casket.

The carvings in the wood were intricate, leaves and flowers, made by a skilled hand. The wood was rubbed glossy by handling, some of the carvings worn to mere impressions. The casket was no bigger than one of the small loaves of fresh bread his mother brought home from the neighborhood bakery.

The sun shot a sudden ray through the door of the hut. It was growing late. And Isaac suddenly realized his position.

Up until he’d stumbled onto the beach, he’d been guided. All across Europe, through danger after danger, he’d had one adult after another looking out for him. His parents had promised to meet him and he’d found them only to lose them again. Now he was completely alone, told to keep finding the symbol of the eternity knot, having an experience that could only be described as . . . what?

Isaac clenched his fists and went through it, piece by piece.

He was in possession of this casket that his father said held answers and was a connection to his parents, a casket that he was not to open yet.

He wore a chain that held a pendant of the eternity knot that he was not to take off.

His parents had disappeared after telling him he’d return to his own time.

He’d seen a hideous monster he couldn’t name and watched his mother performing some kind of spell against it.

They would find him.

And what was Guardian?

He took a deep breath.

He looked again at the casket. He was tempted to open it, for it contained answers. He reached for it, and as his fingers gripped the wood, he heard a noise again, that hum, and he snatched his hand away, surprised.

After shaking out his fingers, he carefully turned the casket so that the latch faced him. It was fixed by a lead seal that would have to be broken or cut. He leaned closer. The seal was imprinted with words.

MEMENTO MORI

His Latin was passable, and he recognized the first word. It meant “remember.”

Remember that you’d better not open it yet, he thought. He wasn’t supposed to open it until he reached that safe place, that castle, because they (whoever they were) might sense it (whatever that meant). Rookskill. To the south. Village called Craig.

Terrific. So helpful.

He would soon run out of daylight. This was not the time to be opening a strange box he wasn’t supposed to open yet anyway, and he didn’t want to meet something that came with the deepest dark.