Worldkeepers.”
“What are Worldkeepers?” Eleanor asked.
“Merely objects,” the Storm King said. “But objects that, when used together, act as a key between the two worlds. They must be retrieved and brought to my brother, Eugene, in Tinz. He can help you get them to the Door of Ways. If all three Worldkeepers pass through the Door of Ways at the exact same time, then they will act as a locking mechanism, permanently sealing off the worlds from each other.”
“Wait, did you say your brother Eugene?” Cordelia asked.
She never knew he had a brother. Surely he must be dead by now, in any case – only magic had kept Denver alive so much longer than he should have been.
“Yes, my brother has been in Tinz for decades now,” the Storm King said. “There isn’t time to explain further, but once you retrieve the Worldkeepers, you must bring them to Eugene. He will help you from there.”
“Why can’t you just come with us?” Eleanor asked.
“I can no longer go back,” he said. “The same forces that trapped Dahlia inside the book world are keeping me out. It almost certainly has something to do with my death. Now enough jibber-jabber, we need to move!”
Eleanor and Cordelia glanced at each other, but didn’t have time to question him further. They suddenly realised that they had entered a small chamber. Neither of them remembered going through any doorway, and the room appeared to be sealed off on all sides.
“How did we get in here?” Cordelia asked as she looked around the small room.
Denver Kristoff gave no response and uttered another low spell as several torches around the room ignited with flickering blue flames that almost looked like liquid. The chamber was the size of a large bedroom. Its walls seemed to be made of stone, in spite of supposedly existing within an old, wooden Victorian house. Bookshelves made of polished bone lined the walls, stacked two deep with old leather-bound tomes that looked far more ancient than Denver’s rotting face. A small desk sat along the centre wall, and this too was made of bones. But not just any bones, the entire desk appeared to have been constructed entirely from human skulls, the tops of dozens of craniums creating a surprisingly smooth surface.
“Eeewww,” Eleanor said, shuddering.
“So … grotesque,” Cordelia muttered.
“Not really,” the Storm King said. “These are the heads of my old fraternity brothers. It always brings a tear to my eye when I see the grinning skulls of Winston, Charles, Xavier … and of course Henry, with that endearing gap in his front teeth … Oh dear. Can’t get emotional. There’s work to be done!”
The Storm King flopped Brendan down on to the desk with surprisingly little care. Brendan groaned and gnashed his teeth.
“Be careful!” Cordelia said.
“He’s already dead, my girl! A few more bruises won’t do any harm – you can already see right through his torso!” the Storm King barked at her, his eyes still blazing.
Cordelia shrank back, not wanting to upset him further. Somehow this old, demented madman had become their only hope.
The Storm King grabbed the lower jaw of one of the skeletons that made up the desk. He pulled it down and a small drawer made entirely of mandibles slid open near the base of the desk.
“Take this,” the Storm King said, spinning around.
He handed Cordelia a thin book. It was the size of a small novel, but was bound in some sort of strange light brown leather that felt rough and brittle. It had a surprisingly unsettling texture that she couldn’t quite identify – but strongly suspected might be dried human skin. The cover of the book had a few words etched on to it by hand in a dark brown ink that looked suspiciously like dried blood: Denver Kristoff’s Journal of Magic and Technology.
“It’s all explained inside,” the Storm King said. “Every bit of my magic, every invention I created is documented within these pages. This will help you find the three Worldkeepers and bring them through the Door of Ways. It won’t be easy. But if you are successful, it will undo all the damage that has been inflicted here, today. Do you understand?”
Cordelia nodded. She was scared, nervous, and full of questions. Eleanor looked at Brendan’s dying body and nodded as well. She hated the idea of trusting the Storm King, but they had little choice at this point.
“You mustn’t let Dahlia get her hands on the Journal or the Worldkeepers,” the Storm King continued. “She will be there, lurking somewhere, full of tricks. She may not even appear as herself, so be extremely careful whom you trust. She doesn’t know where the Worldkeepers are, but no doubt she can sense their power and could use them for great harm. If she gets her hands on any of the three Worldkeepers first, all will be lost. So guard them, and the Journal, with your lives. And stay away from Dahlia.”
“Trust me, we don’t wanna go anywhere near that horrible creature,” Eleanor said.
Cordelia nodded. Brendan offered a few grunts and snapped his teeth with a low groan.
“Watch your tongue,” the Storm King snapped defensively. “She’s done many dreadful things, but she’s still my daughter, my own flesh and blood.”
“The old Dahlia is gone,” Cordelia countered. “All that’s left is the Wind Witch, the twisted, soulless monster that killed you and then laughed about it! How can you forget that?”
“You’re not a parent,” the Storm King said, tears forming at the corners of his saggy and yellow eyelids. “You can’t understand. Dahlia wasn’t always like this. She once was a gentle soul, so kind, so full of life. She loved nature and wildlife. At least once a month, she would come home carrying a pigeon or a robin, with a broken wing or foot, in the pocket of her favourite yellow dress. And she would nurse the poor creatures back to health. No matter how many times her mother told Dahlia to stop bringing home the birds, she never listened. Dahlia always did have a mind of her own, but she was generous and thoughtful; she always found and admired the beauty of this world – and the beauty in other living creatures.”
“Big deal!” Cordelia shouted. “That’s nothing compared to the pain and grief she’s caused so many people.”
“I know she’s become a monster,” the Storm King said. “But I believe that what was initially in her heart, in her soul, is still there somewhere. I know that little girl isn’t completely dead. But enough of this. I’m starting to sound like a sentimental old fool. And it’s time the three of you got back into the book world one last time.”
Cordelia exchanged a glance with Eleanor. They never thought they would have to go back there. The other two times, they had all barely escaped with their lives. And even the seemingly good things that happened in the book world only brought them more misery in their real lives. Going back was actually the last thing in the world either of them wanted to do – aside from maybe planting a kiss on the Storm King’s withered old mug.
But they both knew they had no choice now. And so they slowly nodded, Eleanor fighting tears at the reality of having to go back. Cordelia clenched her jaw and told herself that she would do anything, anything to save Brendan and Fat Jagger and the rest of her family.
The Storm King grinned at them as he recited a spell.
Suddenly the chamber was spinning. It was spinning so fast that Cordelia could no longer make out the skull desk or bone bookshelves. She couldn’t make out the faces of the Storm King or Eleanor, or Brendan’s body crumpled on the desk. She couldn’t see anything but the blurred streaks of blue flames and concrete walls.
Then it all faded away into darkness, and there were books all around her, books spinning with her, closing around her like some sort of coffin. They collided with her body and then stuck, as if coated in superglue.
More books piled on, emerging from the blackness around her. The books seemed