Johnis forced his way down twenty, maybe even thirty, steps, then stepped off the last worn stone into a circular atrium. Same dark mossy walls; same putrid, sulfuric odor. The floor had been worn smooth by countless padding feet. The ceiling was low, and the black smoke from his torch fanned out directly over his head.

Straight ahead of him the curving wall was broken by a large, glistening black door with a corroded handle. Staring at that tarred door was like staring into the heart of Teeleh. Johnis suddenly hoped it was locked so that he could turn and run.

He stood shivering, knowing that time was too short. Billos was right—the Shataiki might be fleeing the fire, but with so many of them in the forest, they would be swarming back soon enough.

He stepped up to the black door, reached for the rusty handle, and hesitated. He watched his trembling fingers for a long ten seconds, then touched it.

He’d half expected a flash of darkness. Another vision of the dark man-beast reaching for his throat. But nothing happened. The handle was cold.

He turned the latch and pushed the door gently. It opened with a soft squeal of metal. A puff of warm, musty air brushed his face and blew the flame, which wavered and crackled. His heart thumped in his ears, but he detected no sign of Teeleh.

Then he stepped in. Into Teeleh’s lair that had surely been carved from the pit of the earth hundreds, maybe thousands, of years ago.

He faced six smaller, arched doors set in stone, forming a twenty-foot semicircle. Water dripped somewhere deep behind these walls. The doors presented him with another decision, and at the moment he was hating decisions, particularly ones that all seemed to lead deeper into trouble.

But time was going. Maybe already gone.

He quickly tried the door on his right.

Locked. Thank Elyon.

The next door, also locked. And the next, and the next, and the next.

Thank Elyon. He didn’t want to be down here any longer.

Johnis grabbed the last handle and pushed, expecting to be given the liberty of fleeing back through the main door, up the circular stairwell, and out into fresher air to announce that Billos was right. All was lost; they would have to go back.

But the door swung in silently. He jumped back, startled.

Now he had no choice. He had to go in. And so he did, just two steps.

The door opened to a tunnel carved out of stone, tall enough for a man to walk easily. Or a beast. The walls glistened with a moist gel or resin. Standing so close to them, Johnis was sure the terrible rotten odor that plugged his nostrils came from this gel.