She and Elof waited near the entrance while Dagny and I went over to get the heavy bodies out of the way. I took a fortifying breath, closed my eyes, and I moved the dead elk out of the way enough to clear a path.

“Ulla!” Sunniva yelled in surprise, and I looked over to see her standing in the doorway. “I’ve been looking for you!”

“Why? What’s going on?” I asked, and wiped my hands on my jeans in a vain attempt to get the blood off.

“Other than the end of the world?” she asked as she stepped over a bloody elk antler. Her expression was grim as she reached me. “I just feel like I’m supposed to be with you.”

“For what?” I asked.

She shook her head uncertainly. “For whatever comes next.”

“We should get downstairs,” Dagny said, wiping her forehead with the back of her arm.

“Where are you going?” Sunniva asked as Dagny helped Elof over the animal remains that still littered the stable floor.

“Down to the Älvolk living quarters,” I explained. “We’re trying to find a way to contain or stop anything that comes across the bridge.”

“I’m in,” Sunniva said, and she joined us as we made our way through the stable massacre and down the spiral staircase.

As we descended the stone stairs into the earth, it seemed darker than when I had been here last. There was the earthy mildew smell that I remembered all too well, but it was currently being overwhelmed by the strong scent of burnt sulfur and metallic heat.

I ran my fingertips along the wall, using it as a guide, until my fingers grazed a bloody handprint smeared across the stone—still warm and sticky.

The stairwell ended in a large stone room with an archway that led to the two respective wings: the Älvolk under their triskelion sigil, and the thrimavolk under an ouroboros of a serpentine dragon biting its own tail.

“I know they had a lot of texts in the häxdoktor’s office in the medica,” I said. I had a sharp memory of running down the hall from the thrimavolk dormitory, and then down a narrow stairwell. That’s where the medica was located.

“Wait.” Eliana grabbed my hand and peered into the darkness of the thrimavolk wing.

“Why?” Dagny asked.

“There’s something . . .” Eliana trailed off and went toward the room, gently pulling me with her.

Then I heard it too. A whimpering sound and ragged breathing.

Elof pulled out a torch, flooding the thrimavolk living room with amber light. Huddled in a group behind the sofa were twenty or so children—boys and girls, none of them older than nine or ten.

They cried out when they saw the flame, and Eliana rushed over to comfort them.