Truman didn’t let himself believe it. That was what got you into trouble: believing that people who caught you so you didn’t faceplant into rocks had feelings for you because they didn’t let you face-plant into rocks.

The cave was bigger than it had looked from outside, the ceiling vaulting to an apex. Something roosted there. In the book it had been atbaj, batlike creatures with heads on both sides of their bodies so they could sight for predators in 360 degrees. But as he watched, one of the creatures descended, and Truman saw that they were seagulls perched high above.

He walked to the left-hand side of the entrance, but there was no ledge, just sea-wet stone and sand clinging in the crevices. Same on the right-hand side. Truman didn’t want to be disappointed—after all, it could still very well be the place; surely, authors added fictional details all the time—but he was.

As he approached the triangle of light making it through, he realized that the cave went farther back than he’d first realized.

“Is it safe to go through here?” he asked Ash.

“Yeah, just don’t be surprised if you find sixteen-year-old me and my buddy Lorin trying to do witchy sea rituals in there.”

“I’m very intrigued, and I do want to hear all about that in a minute.”

Truman crouched low to get through the opening and looked around the dimly lit area. Once through the entrance, it was tall enough to stand at full height and roomy enough for three or four people.

And there, on the left-hand side of the rock…

“Holy shit,” Truman said worshipfully.

It was a stone ledge. When Truman shone his phone’s flashlight on it, he could see whorls of fossilized shell studding its worn-smooth surface. He ran a finger over them and got goose bumps.

He was standing in a place where Agatha Tark had surely stood, was touching the rock she had likely run her own fingers over. The same fingers that had penned the Dead of Zagørjič.

Truman took pictures of that too, and with a flash, they came out well. The flash also made visible something scratched into the wall at the corner of the ledge. Truman got on his knees to peer at it closely.

There, incised in stone, was the symbol of owl wings surrounding a diamond. The sigil of Illmarčzia.

Truman couldn’t breathe. Was this how paleantologists felt, unearthing proof that dinosaurs walked the earth? He let his knees give way and sat on the floor, blinking up at the sigil.

“You summon anything in there?” Ash said breezily, sticking his head in. “Hey, what’s wrong?” he said immediately at whatever he saw on Truman’s face.

Truman pointed and blinked.

“Oh, yeah, isn’t that cool? It’s been here as long as I remember.”

“It’s her. It’s really her.”