“I hate leygates,” Scatty muttered. “Just let me make sure there are no nasty surprises waiting for us on the other side.” Drawing her swords, she darted through. A second later, her slightly green-looking disembodied face appeared in midair. “All clear.”

Shakespeare went next, followed by Joan and Saint-Germain, hand in hand. Palamedes was the last to step from the Pleistocene Shadowrealm. He turned to look back and realized that the world was beginning to fade and die. Colors were leaching away, paling to grays, and the edge of the horizon was drifting off into a fine sparkling dust. As he watched, it swirled away into the cloudless sky and then the sky itself dissolved into utter darkness. One by one, the moons winked out. Palamedes shivered. The world and all it contained-all the extraordinary flora and diverse fauna-was dying because the hook-handed man had no further use for it. This realm had been created for one purpose, and one purpose only: to ensnare-or was it to save?-Scathach and Joan. Marethyu must have known that Saint-Germain would come after his wife. The big knight frowned: had he also known that Palamedes and Will would come after their friend? Marethyu said he was from the past… how, then, did he know so much about the future?

Who was the hook-handed man?

The Saracen Knight leapt through the henge in the last moments before the gates themselves dissolved to dust.

The hook-handed man waited until Palamedes had appeared. “Glad you could join us,” he said. “I was hoping you would not linger too long.” Then he turned to the small group and lifted his left arm. The hook glowed with warm golden light, partially illuminating the massive cave. “Welcome to Xibalba,” Marethyu said. “Thankfully, there is no time for sightseeing. We need to get out of here right now,” he added, and set off at a run. “Our body heat and auras will attract some spectacularly foul guardians. Follow in my footsteps. And do not, whatever you do, step off the path.”

“I hate this place,” Scathach grumbled, holding her nose shut in an attempt to block out the stink of sulfur.

“You’ve been here before?” Marethyu asked, surprised.

“So you don’t know everything,” she said with a quick grin.

“Not everything,” he said. “I just know enough.”

“Where are we going?” Saint-Germain called.

“I’m going to take you through a series of gates…,” Marethyu said.

“Not more leygates,” Scathach groaned.

“I am afraid so. Though these are not your normal leygates. I did a favor for Chronos, and in return he sequenced these gates for me. But you will all have to stick close behind me. We’re going into Shadowrealms which each have thirteen gates-we must go through the correct ones in the proper order.”

“Otherwise…?” Will demanded.

Marethyu shook his head. “Trust me: you do not want to know.”

“I do, actually,” the Bard muttered.