Page 11 of Eggsactly the Right Gargoyle

“The sacred grove?” I ask, remembering stories I’d heard since moving to Evershift. “The one that’s been dormant for a century?”

“The very same.” Hemlock nods. “Legend says it was once the heart of Evershift’s magic, the source from which the town’s protective barrier draws its power, but it went dormant long ago, when its guardian...” He glances at Dorian, then quickly away.

“When its guardian failed,” finishes Dorian, his voice flat. “When I failed.”

I turn to him, surprised. “You were the guardian of the Glimmergrove?”

“A long time ago.” His tone suggests he doesn’t want to discuss it. “The Heart of Haven became the magical source. The end.”

I arch a brow, certain that’s very much not the end.

Chapter 4 —Dorian

”I’M NOT GOING BACKthere.” I cross my arms over my chest, the stone of my skin making a soft grinding sound. “The Glimmergrove has been dormant for a century. There’s nothing to see.” She’s been following me for twenty minutes since I left Hemlock’s with the intention of returning to my lair and putting all this behind me.

Her enchanted silk scarf shifts from determined purple to stubborn orange as she steps up to stand in front of me. “The eggs led us here, Dorian.” She holds up a handful of the petals, which are all that remain of the fifth egg. “They’ve been right about everything else. Why would they lead us astray now?”

I turn away from her. The distant tree line of the Glimmergrove is visible from here, a darker green patch against the lighter foliage of the surrounding forest. “The Glimmergrove is dead,” I say flatly. “It died a long time ago.”

“When you failed as its guardian?” she asks softly.

My wings twitch involuntarily, but that’s the only outward sign of my discomfort. “Yes.”

“What happened?” She moves closer.

“It doesn’t matter.” I step away, maintaining distance between us. “What matters is the grove is dormant, and no amount of sun witch magic or mysterious eggs will change that.”

Talia studies me. “You’re afraid.”

“I’m cautious. There’s a difference.”

“No, you’re afraid.” She steps closer again, undeterred by my stony expression. “You’re afraid of going back there because itreminds you of your failure. You’re afraid of trying again because you might fail again.”

Her words strike with uncomfortable accuracy. I’ve spent a century avoiding the Glimmergrove, the memories, and the guilt.

“The eggs want us to go there together. Don’t you want to know why?”

“No,” I lie.

She raises an eyebrow. “You’ve lived for over five centuries. Are you telling me you’re not even a little curious?”

I sigh, making a rumbling sound like stones shifting. “Curiosity has gotten me into trouble before.”

“So has avoidance.” She arches a brow. “We don’t have to stay long. We’ll just go, see what the eggs want to show us, and leave. If nothing happens, I’ll never mention the Glimmergrove again.”

I study her face, searching for any sign of deception, but find only earnest determination. Her scarf has settled on a hopeful shade of yellow-green. “Fine, but we go, we look, and we leave. No experiments, no attempts to reawaken anything, and no trying to conjure the eggs back to us. The grove is dormant for a reason.”

Her face lights up with a smile so bright it almost hurts to look at. “Thank you. I promise, in and out, quick as a blink.”

Somehow, I doubt it’ll be that simple.

THE PATH TO THE GLIMMERGROVEis overgrown, barely visible after a century of disuse. I lead the way, my stone body easily pushing through the underbrush. Talia follows behind me, occasionally murmuring to the plants to ask them to move aside. To my surprise, they listen, bending away from her path.

The closer we get to the grove, the heavier my steps become. Memories press in of my failure, and memories of the day the grove went dark. We reach the edge of the Glimmergrove, and I stop. The boundary is still visible. It’s a perfect circle, where the ordinary forest ends and the magical grove begins. Once, this boundary shimmered with protective enchantments. Now, it’s just a subtle change in vegetation.

Talia steps up beside me, her eyes wide. “It’s beautiful.”

I look at her in surprise. “It’s dead.”

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