She sat up in the small, windowless bedchamber, her heart pounding as she fumbled for her bedside candle.

“Ignium,” she ordered, but the stubborn thing remained unlit.

Come on, Emry thought crossly, any light will do.

The room flooded with a bright glow that came from, of all places, the tip of her wand.

That worked. She squinted as her eyes adjusted to the glare. The noise sounded again. It was more howl than scream, and it was coming from outside.

What if it was Arthur? Or something that had caught Arthur?

Emry shivered at the thought. She hadn’t seen the prince since they’d arrived on Avalon. And she worried about him, especially without a sword to defend himself.

She tried the doorknob. It was locked, of course, from the outside.

Open, please, she thought, and to her surprise, the thick wooden door swung open.

She stepped into the cold night air of the cloister’s inner courtyard, wishing she had a thicker cloak. Her breath fogged, and she clasped her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. The stone building rose up around her like a fortress, its endless arches ghostly pale in the moonlight. Emry held her wand out in front of her as though it was a weapon, but the cloister was dark and silent.

She was alone.

Except for the creature that sat motionless in the courtyard. It was smaller than a fox, but with a spiked, sinuous tail like a dragon’s, which was covered in iridescent scales. Its fur was pure white, its face sleek and beautiful, its eyes ancient and knowing.

Emry stared at the creature, transfixed. She’d never seen anything like it.

“What are you?” she whispered.

The creature didn’t answer. Again, the scream sounded from deep within the forest. The creature lifted its nose, and then darted through the arch that led out of the cloister.

Emry knew she had little choice but to follow.

The soft glow from her wand barely illuminated her path, and she stumbled over rocks and roots as the forest rose up around her. But she kept following the sleek white beast that bounded effortlessly through the trees.

Eventually, they came to a clearing, trees giving way to moss and brambles, and Emry startled at where the creature had led her.

An ancient arch made of immense stone slabs sat in the middle of the clearing, still and waiting and pale as alabaster in the moonlight.

A henge. Built hundreds, perhaps thousands of years ago, they were meant to hold open the doors between worlds, and to keep them from closing for good. She had never seen one before—not a real one.

She couldn’t believe it was still standing. Well, most of it. Emry stared at the ancient stones, some leaning, some fallen, others cracked in two, wondering if it still worked. If it had ever worked.