They awoke at daybreak, if the paltry gray light entering the cave could be called that. The fire had burned low, and the air was well below freezing. Lucian threw on more lichen and slept for half an hour more. By the time he woke again, Linus and Plato were cooking a pot of stew over the fire.

  They scraped the pot clean before packing everything up. Little of the insufficient daylight outside found its way inside. Linus assembled a torch from his pack and lit it with the remains of the fire. It burned brightly, revealing the rocky chamber with ice collecting in its corners. For the first time, Lucian saw a dark tunnel descending at the far end. His stomach dropped at the sight.

  “We’re going in there?”

  "It will be warmer, at least,” Plato said.

  “Let’s go,” Linus said.

  The three of them left the fire behind and headed into the dark tunnel.

  They walked for what seemed like hours, generally downward. As good as Plato’s word, the air warmed the further they descended. Lucian wondered why they couldn’t have just slept here, even if the space was somewhat cramped. Lucian had to uncinch his parka. Sweat collected on his back until he had to remove it completely and carry it under his arm.

  In the end, they found a small nook in which to place their extra clothing. According to Linus, it was only going to get warmer the further down they went. Maybe that was why they hadn’t opted to sleep in this tunnel.

  It wasn’t long before Linus’s torch wasn’t the only source of light. A dim, bluish-gray luminescence glowed at the end of the tunnel. At first, Lucian thought it was daylight. It couldn’t be, though, or the air would be far colder. Once they reached the end of the tunnel, Linus staked his torch in the sandy ground at the entrance of the widening cavern.

  The first thing Lucian saw was that this space was massive. Glittering blue crystals encrusted its sides and ceiling, lending ample light by which to see. The entire space could have fit the Academy in its entirety. They stood on a high ledge, looking upon an underworld of blue stalagmites and stalactites, formed over eons, all of which were coated with those same blue-glowing crystals. But for all that ethereal beauty, it was not the main thing that grabbed Lucian’s attention.

  At the bottom of a winding trail leading from the ledge stood a circular, domed edifice supported by a ring of pillars rising above steps encircling its entirety. The structure glowed with blue radiance, the crystals of the cavern seeming to feed off its light. Its interior shone with light blue brilliance, almost blinding to behold.

  Lucian did not doubt that this structure was left behind by the Builders. But what confused him most was that despite its age, surely hundreds of thousands of years, it looked completely unspoiled. His mouth hung agape as he stared at it.

  “Now, you see,” Linus said with a knowing smile. “Not so bad, eh?”

  “It’s incredible,” Lucian said. “But what does this have to do with a test?”

  The two men looked back at the structure. They seemed to be taking in the sight just as much as Lucian.

  “Everything,” Linus said. “Inside those ruins, you will find out.”

  “Ruins” was the last word Lucian would have used to describe that structure. Majestic would be one. Magical, even. From where else could that light be coming from? He felt something pulling at him within its confines. Something . . . familiar.

  Whatever it was, he had to go down and see it. Linus and Plato’s faces shone from the light emanating off the structure’s surface. Unlike Lucian, it didn’t seem to hurt them to look at it. That was strange.

  “Is there anything else you can tell me before I go in?”

  “One thing,” Plato said. “Remain steadfast.”

  “That’s all?”

  “That’s all.”

  “We’ll walk down together,” Linus said. “But you must go in alone.”

  Lucian followed the older men down until only a few minutes later they stood before the massive structure. It was even larger up close than it had been from afar. Lucian felt small against it. The gaps between the columns shone radiantly, and the building seemed to loom over him menacingly. Now that he was here, he was afraid to go in. But he also knew he had to go in. Something compelled him.

  As he neared the structure, he pondered Plato’s words. Remain steadfast against what? This place was more than a building left behind by the Builders. The word “building” seemed too common a descriptor for it. A wonder, maybe? Or perhaps it was a mausoleum of some forgotten alien lord, or perhaps a forgotten palace? The light shining within was evidence that this place was far from ordinary.

  Xenoarcheologists had supposed the Builders vanished long ago. As much as a million years ago by some estimates. If so, how could this building be intact? Then again, Lucian thought, the Gates were still here, and they were surely as old. But the Gates had not been subjected to the same erosive forces as this structure. How long had this place stood in this dismal cave? How had it come to be here in the first place?

  These questions ran through Lucian’s mind as he approached the steep stone steps. Those stairs wrapped around the entirety of the domed edifice, seeming too tall for human legs. Perhaps the Builders had walked on two legs, like humans, but had longer limbs. Here on the cavern floor, the dome was taller than it had seemed from above. It hung over Lucian, and he felt small in its glowing light. At a guess, it was fifty meters tall and stood about that wide.

  Lucian tried to take in the details as best he could before making his way upward, the pillars towering over him. He counted seventeen steps from the cavern floor to the entrance. There didn’t seem to be any sort of design, artwork, or script written on the surfaces. Many archaeologists believed the Builders lacked a written language, as no one had found anything of the kind. But this place seemed almost untouched by time; even so, it didn’t seem that there were words or artwork beneath the subtle glow emanating from every surface.

  Lucian peered beyond the columns. Bluish light radiated from within, making it impossible to see far. He walked toward that light, having to shield his face and squint his eyes. There was no sound or smell. Lucian got the feeling he was entering another dimension. A place where normal rules didn’t apply.

  Could that light somehow be magic? What was the test, exactly?

  After ten or so steps, he could make out the lines of a pedestal placed right in the center of the structure. Something seemed to be on top of it, the source of the mighty radiance.

  That light felt as if it were pulling him. Lucian walked on, compelled to see what the object was. Despite the pain in his eyes, he couldn’t keep them closed. It was only when he was standing right in front of the pedestal that he could see the object.

  There sat a brilliant blue orb, shining like a miniature star.

  He had to have it. He reached for it with his right hand, but some unseen force repelled him just centimeters away. He struggled against it, but his hand could not proceed any closer. He gritted his teeth. It was so beautiful, so luminous, with whorls of cloud eddying across its immaculately curved surface. He pushed as hard as he could, his hand meeting resistance as steadfast as a diamond wall.

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  “Come on . . .”

  He closed his eyes to give them a rest from the bright light. He worked his fingers around the orb, trying to find some space to force his fingers in. Lucian took a step back to examine the rest of the room for clues. Was this the test, then? To remove this orb and bring it back to Linus and Plato? That thought seemed reprehensible. The orb should be his. And obviously, it was still here, meaning Linus and Plato had never managed to pry it loose.

  With that in mind, Lucian considered the orb longer. Something tickled at his memory about it, but he was so overcome by its beauty that he couldn’t think straight. The blue light no longer pained him as he circled it like a vulture, seeking some way he might wrest it free. He wandered the interior of the building to make sure he hadn’t missed some obvious detail. Perhaps there was a button or a switch that would allow him to access it. But there was no other ornamentation besides the pedestal and the treasure it held.

  No, not treasure. Could it be that this was one of the Seven Orbs Arian had described? The possibility seemed beyond belief. And yet, he had seen it in his dreams. And the voice had said it was close . . .

  How might he remove it, then? If it were one of the Seven Aspects of Magic, then it was undoubtedly an artifact of great power left behind by the Builders. If it was one of the Orbs, and it was blue, might Binding Magic not convince it to come into his possession?

  If that was so, then he couldn’t remove it without streaming, without breaking the commitment he had made to himself.

  That must be the test, then. He could have this treasure if he so desired. But it meant breaking his commitment.

  The mere thought made his blood boil. It was so unfair. If he could only have this, then many possibilities would open to him. He might even use it to escape the island, along with Linus and Plato, though he knew not how. He sensed in some way that it was their ticket to freedom. Or was that only wishful thinking?

  The temptation to take it was powerful. More powerful than anything he’d ever felt in his life. How could he resist it? Would there be any harm in assuming his Focus and only reaching to feel the binding field surrounding the Orb? That wasn’t streaming. He wouldn’t be breaking any rules.

  If this site were ever discovered, thousands would descend upon it, and his only chance of possessing the Orb would evaporate into dust.

  Even now, it was pulling at him. It wanted to be free of its prison. How was it possible he knew that? The very idea wouldn’t leave his head, that he might be the Orb’s rescuer. It was wrong to let such a beautiful thing shine in this place of darkness. He could become the Orb’s caretaker, its steward. Perhaps even bring it to a museum to get it appraised. One thing he did know: if he left it behind, he would regret it for the rest of his life.

  And yet, there was his promise. His commitment. Was it all for nothing?

  Still, he found himself reaching out as if he were a puppet of a master beyond his control. He closed his eyes, reached for his Focus . . .

  No. He couldn’t.

  He forced himself to look away from the Orb. He forced himself to take a few steps backward. With each step, the pull and the temptation grew more powerful. There was something special about this artifact. Something mesmerizing. The idea of holding it in his hand and unlocking its power was too great to resist. If not that, he could stare at it, discovering its essence even as its light blinded him.

  He had to get away from here.

  Despite the logic of this thought, he couldn’t help but remain transfixed. He became aware of the fact that the longer he stood here, the harder it would be to leave. How long had he already watched it? Five minutes or five hours?

  Right here, right now, was his chance to commit, for good, to the life ahead of him. And a life without magic, without power, seemed a pale thing indeed compared to this. Would he be content staying on the Isle of Madness and making a new life for himself? Or would he die here, drawn to this Orb like a moth to a flame? He tried to think of something—anything—that might get him to step away.

  Living on this island would not be enough. He needed something more. Nor did he want to choose the path Marcus had taken. That meant there was only one option left.

  To take the Orb.

  He closed his eyes and saw Emma’s face. She was smiling, and it felt as if she were in front of him. What would she make of all this, and what would she tell him?

  He knew the answer without having to ask. She would tell him this wasn’t right. She would tell him to back off.

  Trust yourself.

  The words came from seemingly nowhere, but they seemed to come from her. Lucian didn’t trust himself. Somehow, he knew if he streamed at this Orb, it would be the death of him.

  And what scared him was that he knew he would be smiling as it happened.

  This Orb wasn’t his. It never was.

  He turned his back on it and walked quickly to the entrance, between the columns and out of the radiance. The dim light of the cavern seemed like a world of darkness in comparison to the light and joy he had left behind.

  Linus and Plato were waiting at the bottom of the steps, but Lucian could hardly focus on either. His vision swam before him, still half-blind from the brilliance of the Orb. He stumbled at the bottom of the steps, but Plato reached him quickly, breaking his fall. Lucian closed his eyes, trying to collect his thoughts.

  “Well?” Plato asked.

  Lucian blinked and marshaled all his mental energy to respond. The Orb was still boring into his mind. He wanted to go back and attempt to extricate it again.

  The thought was madness.

  “I’m done with this test,” Lucian said. “I’m done with being tested.”

  Plato and Linus exchanged a glance, but neither said a word. In the end, Linus broke the silence. “What did you see, Lucian? What did you do?”

  “I passed the test,” he said. “The Orb has no hold on me.”

  Linus and Plato shared another look—one of confusion—before they both looked back at Lucian.

  “Orb?” Plato asked. “What do you mean?”

  Did they not know? “The Orb. That wasn’t the test then?”

  “Neither of us knows what you’re talking about,” Linus said. “Nothing in there spoke to you?”

  “Who would have spoken to me?”

  They couldn’t mean Emma’s voice. How could they have known about that?

  “He must go back in,” Linus said. “Or else, he can’t have passed the test.”

  “What of this Orb, then?” Plato asked. “Should we not investigate?”

  “You really don’t know what I’m talking about? There was this blue Orb at the very center of the structure. You’ll see it, clear as day.”

  “I’m going in,” Linus said. “You two can wait here. I won’t take long.”

  Linus marched up the steps and between the pillars.

  “What was in there, Lucian?” Plato asked. “What happened?”

  “There was a pedestal in the very center. And from it, an Orb shone so brightly that I could hardly look at it.”

  Plato’s brow scrunched in confusion. “Yeah, that’s not supposed to be there. Are you sure?”

  “I’m not lying.”

  “No, of course not. It’s just . . . strange. If it was there, why not pick it up and show us?”

  “There’s a barrier,” Lucian said. “A Binding barrier, I think.”

  “Those are difficult to make and break,” Plato mused. “Binding shields are much sturdier than Dynamistic shields. Hmm.” He thought about the problem. “But if that’s true, then there must be a source for the magic.”

  At that moment, Linus appeared at the top of the steps. He shook his head before starting down. When he reached Lucian and Plato, he said, “Whatever you saw in there, it’s gone.”

  “What?” Lucian said. “That’s impossible!”

  He started for the steps, but Linus grabbed him by the shoulder. “No. Your test is done, and I won’t risk anything. It would seem your test is different from all the others for some reason. I see your look. I don’t doubt your story, boy. It’s just mighty strange.”

  “Why was it different? What was I supposed to have seen?”

  “A vision,” Linus said. “A foretelling of your future.” He gestured toward the building. “That’s why we call this place the Oracle, and why we didn’t call it that until just now. I didn't want you to think we were crazy. Are you sure you didn’t hear a thing and only saw this Orb?”

  Lucian nodded. “I . . . thought I might have heard my friend’s voice in there. But it could have been my imagination.”

  That seemed to give both men pause. In the end, Linus said, “That could very well be. But the Oracle isn’t anyone you know. Of that, you can be sure. Maybe what you saw was a vision rather than a message.”

  “It didn’t seem like a vision,” Lucian said. “It seemed very real.”

  “This was not meant to be a vision, but a revelation,” Plato said. “You should have learned your future. Whether this island was your fate. As the both of us did.”

  Lucian looked up at them with surprise. That was what all this had been about? If the Orb had been a revelation of the future, then it couldn’t have been on this island. Could it? He was only more confused.

  “I should go back and see,” he said. “If it’s only a vision, it can’t hurt me, right?”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure of that,” Plato said. “Nothing like this has happened before. We should be careful.”

  “When you took others down here for their tests, what happened to them?”

  “You’re the only one to get this far in years,” Linus said. “Some told us it was their fate to stay here. Others not. With you, though, we don’t have a clear answer. I’m not sure what to do with that.”

  “Should I go back in or not?” Lucian asked.

  “It would be irregular,” Linus said.

  “It’s up to you,” Plato said.

  Lucian looked back at the entrance of the Oracle. That same blue light emanated outward, giving the columns a sapphire luster.

  Lucian knew what he had to do, but what if he couldn’t leave this time? If there was a chance that this place would tell his future, he had to go in.

  He went up the steps once again.