“He’s a kraken. A giant squid,” Tadg answered darkly, and he didn’t bother to jeer at Barclay for not knowing that. Instead, he sped down the road, leaving the others to lag behind him. For a while, Barclay didn’t know where Tadg was headed, until Tadg stopped before a particular house. The roof and front had been entirely smashed, and wooden splinters and shattered glass littered the lawn. All that remained was a single wall along the building’s back.

Again, Barclay was reminded of his own home, when Gravaldor had destroyed it.

“Tadg,” Barclay said softly. “I’m sorry—”

But Tadg wasn’t listening. He scrambled through the heap of broken walls and ruined furniture.

“Now wait a moment,” Ulick told him. “You could get hurt if ya—”

“Dad kept papers here. Maps, notes. About the Sea, about Lochmordra, about the Isle of Roane… They could help us. They should still be here, in his room.” Tadg climbed toward the far end of the house, where his father’s bedroom must’ve once been.

“But everything is wet, Tadg,” Viola said gently. “The papers were probably destroyed.”

“No,” he snapped. “No, they’d still be here.”

Viola sighed. “Well, then we’ll all go on ahead and keep looking for clues.”

Yasha and Ulick nodded, but as the three of them set off with Goath, Barclay lingered behind. Tadg was rarely nice to him. But Barclay had never owned anything that belonged to his parents, and he would’ve liked it if someone had searched his broken house and saved something for him.

Barclay knew that Tadg’s situation was different. Tadg had far more than a few foggy memories of his father. But the world didn’t give out trophies to whoever had the saddest story. And Tadg shouldn’t have to sift through his ruined home alone.

Barclay scaled the rubble to where Tadg was yanking up fallen roof tiles and planks of wood. Tadg looked up at him and frowned, as if he didn’t know why Barclay was there.

But instead of sneering at him like Tadg normally would, he pointed at a nearby beam. “Help me lift that.”

The two grabbed it from either end and hoisted it up. Beneath it was a dirty, damp fabric that might’ve once been a bed quilt. Then Tadg threw it to the side, revealing a metal lockbox.

“This is it! This is where…” Tadg trailed off as he knelt in front of it. The safe’s door hung ajar. It was empty. “I don’t understand. Why would he have taken the papers out?”

“Would he have kept them somewhere else in the house?”

“No, no. We’ll just…” Tadg’s voice hitched. “We’ll keep looking.”

“Okay,” Barclay agreed.