Enrique didn’t even notice he’d taken a step forward until Séverin raised his arm, blocking him right before his boot touched the glassy floor, the circumference of which was surrounded by a meter-wide ring of the same soft clay ground from outside.

“Wait,” said Séverin gently.

“What’s there to wait for, mon cher?” asked Hypnos, grinning widely. He flung out a hand, gesturing to the ziggurat. “We know exactly where to go! Merely climb the steps and voila! Eternal life, eternal joy … eternal Laila.”

Laila shook her head, smiling.

“Yes … yes to all of that and more,” said Séverin, looking at her. Enrique noticed something painful flash in his eyes. “But we can’t risk recklessness … not yet. We need to understand our surroundings.”

“My tools are gone,” said Zofia. “I don’t have anything except my Tezcat necklace and matches and this—” She lifted her arm.

Hypnos frowned. “The use of one’s right arm?”

“No,” she said. “It’s a Forged sleeve that can act as a torch without harming the individual. Enrique has one too.”

“I do?” he asked.

She nodded, pointing her chin at the bit of silver cloth he had tied around his arm. It was a remnant from the Carnevale costumes. He had kept it on his person as a talisman for good luck.

“That’s all well and good, but we don’t need any fire,” said Séverin. “What we really need are knives and rope in case something obstructs us … Do we have that?”

Zofia shook her head.

“I have this?” said Hypnos, waving around his fan.

“Maybe there’s something left in the rucksacks,” said Laila. “Give them to me.”

Séverin shrugged his off, handing it over.

“I lost mine,” said Enrique, thinking of the skeletal sirens.

“This won’t do much,” said Zofia, tapping her necklace.

“Mine is on the other side of the cave…” said Hypnos.

“I suppose we’ll have to rely on powers of observation instead,” said Séverin. “What do you see? Enrique? What caught your eye?”

Enrique pointed to the towering automatons.

“I thought they were … kings,” he said slowly. “But now I’m not so sure. I believe the art dates from the eleventh-century Pala period of South Asia. Note the serene, almost tantric expressions—heavy-lidded eyes, relaxed mouth—likely influenced by Buddhism.”

“Are they guards?” asked Séverin.

“I don’t think so … they hold no weapons,” said Enrique. “If they’re the automatons I think they are, then they should be in possession of … what’s it called again, Laila?”

“Bhuta vahana yanta,” said Laila, frowning as she pulled out a frayed length of rope. The gilded box that had once held the map to Poveglia caught the light. “Technically it means spirit movement machines, but it’s thought to be powered by Forging.”

“Exactly,” said Enrique. “But I don’t see any machines.”

“Could they be in … whatever that is?” asked Hypnos, gesturing at the silvery fog that shrouded the temple.

“Maybe?” said Enrique. He didn’t like the idea of something lurking in the mist. Watching them. “But the key is not to trigger their appearance.”