Page 6 of Rage of the Fallen

“There’ll be plenty of places to hide in there.” I gestured toward the complex layout of buildings within the castle walls. “Nooks, crannies, secret passages. This place is a maze. I’ll be able to use the mirror without interruption.”

As we neared the entrance, I felt a strange juxtaposition of emotions. On one hand, the castle represented safety, a stronghold against the supernatural threats we faced. On the other, its age and grandeur emphasized how small and out of our depth we truly were in this cosmic battle.

“It’s majestic,” Lisa murmured beside me, echoing my thoughts.

I nodded, then steeled myself. “And it’s our best shot right now. Everyone stay alert. Just because it’s crowded doesn’t mean we’re safe. Keep your eyes open for anything unusual.”

As we joined the throng of tourists entering the castle grounds, I felt like we were walking into another trap. But with Maci and Rage on our heels, we were out of options. Edinburgh Castle might be our last line of defense. Or our final battleground.

When we reached the top, we bought tickets and hurried toward the entrance. I kept scanning the dark skies but didn’t see any shadows. It was hard to tell with all the drizzle.

Maci was a shadow dragon and could be hiding in the shadows. Her demons had taken on human form so they could blend into the crowds. Only their black eyes would set them apart.

I shifted my backpack, acutely aware of its precious contents. The Crown of Envy, the compass, the scales, the phoenix feather, the phoenix grass, and the mirror were all safely tucked away inside. There was no way I was leaving these powerful artifacts in the SUV. Not with Maci and her demonic allies on our tail.

Justice scanned our surroundings, his posture tense. “Okay, Sawyer. Where do you think we should go?”

I studied the signs scattered throughout the castle grounds, each pointing to a different attraction. National War Museum, Prisons of War, St. Margaret’s Chapel, the Royal Palace. My mind raced, weighing our options against the information I’d gleaned from the brochure.

“St. Margaret’s Chapel is out,” I muttered. “Too small, barely any room to maneuver if we’re cornered.”

Damon nodded in agreement. “And the Prisons of War are a no-go. Too cramped. We’d be sitting ducks in there.”

“We need somewhere with space that’s out of the rain,” Brody chimed in, his gaze darting nervously around the crowdedcourtyard. “Somewhere we can see them coming, but with an escape route if things go south.”

I nodded, impressed as always by my team’s quick thinking. “You’re right. We need a place that’s open but with at least two exits.”

Zara, who had been quietly studying the castle map, perked up. “How about the Great Hall?” she suggested, pointing to a large structure on the map.

We huddled around the map, considering Zara’s suggestion. The Great Hall was spacious and historically significant, so it was likely to be filled with tourists. Plus, its central location within the castle complex meant multiple potential escape routes.

“Good thinking, Zara.” I felt a small surge of hope. “The Great Hall it is.”

Justice clasped my hand. “Let’s go. Stay alert.”

The rain had intensified, pelting down mercilessly until I felt like a drowned rat. The artifacts in my backpack seemed to grow heavier with each step, a tangible reminder of the supernatural stakes we grappled with.

As we headed toward the Great Hall, I hoped the ancient stones of Edinburgh Castle would provide us the sanctuary we desperately needed.

After stepping inside, I exhaled a breath of relief at escaping the downpour. Water trickled down my temples and face, and my clothes clung to me like a wet suit.

Then, my discomfort faded into the background as I took in the sight before me.

The Great Hall took my breath away. My gaze was immediately drawn upward to the vaulted wooden ceiling, its massive beams resting on stones intricately carved with heads and symbols. I recognized the thistle, the proud flower of Scotland, among the designs. The craftsmanship spoke ofcenturies of history, of battles won and lost, of a nation’s enduring spirit.

At the far end of the vast room stood a magnificent stone fireplace, flanked by suits of armor, standing silent guard. Their empty visors seemed to watch us as we moved farther into the hall, and I couldn’t shake the feeling we were being observed by more than these metal sentinels.

Weapons adorned the walls. Spears and swords were arranged in elegant semi-circles over the fireplace, their polished surfaces gleaming in the afternoon light that streamed through the high windows.

I squeezed Justice’s hand in awe, partly to ground myself in the present. “It’s incredible,” I whispered.

Justice nodded, scanning the room with a practiced gaze. “Beautiful,” he agreed. “And defensible. Good sight lines, multiple exits. We chose well.”

As we kept going, blending with the crowd of visitors, I couldn’t help but feel a strange mix of emotions. The Great Hall’s grandeur and history provided a sense of security, as if its ancient stones could shield us from the supernatural threats we faced. Yet, at the same time, the weapons on display and the battle-scarred architecture were stark reminders of the conflicts that had shaped this place and the one we were currently embroiled in.

“Let’s find a good vantage point,” I murmured to Justice.

He led me into a corner away from the crowd. Most of the tourists stood in front of the fireplace and the display cases.

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