A strong scent of incense, musty and bitter, drifted into Henry’s nose and filled his mind with hazy images, like figures moving in smoke. Gradually, the shadowy forms took concrete shape, and Henry was witnessing a battle scene. A man who could only be Joseph in his youth led a company of warriors against a pale-skinned invader. The man wielded a wand that controlled wind and fire. The essence of evil oozed from his pores.

Henry flinched as the man looked directly at him and pointed the wand. Fire erupted and Henry screamed, breaking the trance. “What just happened?” His voice echoed loudly. No one answered. Coralis, Joseph, and Grandma Gailene sat with their legs crossed, palms facing upward on their knees, eyes closed. Brianna lay next to him, asleep—and in human form!

Before the shock could register, incense again pervaded his senses, and he was back at the scene of the battle. But this time Henry stood alongside the foreign man, who smiled at him. “So, you’ve chosen to join me after all,” said the man in a familiar voice. Henry looked into the man’s face: the face of his father.

He screamed and woke again. This time everyone was awake and staring at him—and Brianna, to his sadness, was still very much a hedgehog.

“You have failed him, Coralis.” Joseph’s voice was barely a whisper.

“I did all I could,” Coralis answered with the tired edge of a defeated man. “But the moonbeams had already merged with his aura, and to pull any more out of him might have killed him.”

“He may yet choose to be our enemy,” said Joseph.

Coralis shook his head gravely. “His heart is true.”

“Perhaps,” whispered Joseph. “Perhaps.”

“When the time comes, he will not fail us,” Coralis insisted.

“And the girl?” Joseph asked, motioning toward Brianna. “The change in her goes beyond her physical appearance.”

“When the time comes, she too will be our ally. I give you my word.”

Joseph arched an eyebrow. “I hope the word of Coralis is enough.” He stood and pressed his back against the cavern wall. The rock melted away, revealing an opening as dark as pitch. “Come,” he said. He stepped into the opening and the darkness swallowed him whole.

Chapter Twenty-Nine

“Because a blind man cannot see, his other senses become more acute—more sensitive. He can smell or hear things before others can. The man with sight takes things for granted. The blind man truly appreciates that which he cannot see.” Joseph led the way in darkness, his voice trapped within the walls of a narrow tunnel that left only enough room to travel in single file. “Follow my voice. Extend your senses. Do not be frightened by the dark.”

Brianna giggled and Joseph stopped. He turned to see a dull glow emanating from Henry, and sighed.

“Sorry.” Henry shrugged.

“Fine.” Joseph sighed again. “Just keep up.”