G. Lippert - JAMES POTTER AND THE VAULT OF DESTINIES

Franklyn sighed deeply, put down his quill, and carefully folded the parchment he had written upon. When he was done, he retrieved the small boot from the floor next to him, slipped the folded parchment into it, and then tapped the boot with his wand.

The vision evaporated in a puff of dry smoke, returning the Hall of the Disrecorder to its normal dimness.

Immediately, Zane tucked the skull under his arm, turned around, and reached for the old boot that sat atop the stone pedestal. He peered inside it.

"It's still there!" he said, smiling. "Franklyn's old note! Parchment feels like it'll crumble to bits if I pull it out, though. Cheshire and the catalog crew probably would have preserved it somehow if they'd known it was there."

"The Nexus Curtain lies within the eyes of Rowbitz," Ralph said thoughtfully. "Any ideas who Rowbitz is?"

Zane scrunched his face up with concentration. "It rings a bell, actually. I'll see what I can find out."

"And we can ask Lucy about letting us look around the halls of Erebus Castle," James added. "We have two clues to go on. Not bad."

"Wait a minute," Ralph said, shaking his head. "If these clues were solvable, don't you think that Chancellor Franklyn would have figured them out by now?"

Zane glanced at Ralph, thinking. "How do we know he didn't?"

"What do you mean?" James asked.

"Well, it wouldn't be the first time somebody had discovered some terrible secret and then just sat on it. You heard him in the vision. Even if he did find out the secrets of the Nexus Curtain, it wasn't like he wanted to go out and share it with the world. He just wanted to shut it down or guard it, so nothing could get through from either side."

"Including us, maybe?" Ralph said, raising his eyebrows.

James shook his head. "Maybe, but I doubt it. If Franklyn had figured out the truth of the Nexus Curtain, I think he'd have told us when we asked him about it. I mean, he obviously doesn't want anyone snooping around about it, right? If he'd found it and shut it down, he'd just say so."

Ralph frowned. "Why?"

"Because," Zane answered, "we're just a bunch of curious kids, right? If he could have killed the mystery for us by telling us that he'd already found the Nexus Curtain and closed it for good, then there'd be nothing left for us to be curious about. Set and spike. Good one, James."

Ralph picked up the boot again. "Let's take the relics back down to the restricted section and get out of here. I've had enough creepy mystery for now."

Zane nodded. "Come on, then. We still have time to look up this Rowbitz dude tonight."

"I'll just wait up here, if you don't mind," James announced, shuffling his feet a little.

Zane glanced back, one eyebrow raised. "Sure, all right. What's the matter? You still hinky about Patches hiding out in the shelves?"

James shook his head. "No. I just… there's only the two relics. You guys don't really need me. Hurry back, all right?"

Ralph nodded. "The sooner the better. Come on."

A moment later, the door to the Archive's lower levels eased shut, leaving James alone in the hall of the Disrecorder.

He waited for a moment, listening intently, and then, when he was sure that Ralph and Zane had begun their descent to the restricted area, he reached into the back pocket of his jeans.

He'd been carrying Petra's dream story around in his pocket for days, folded into its seamless packet and encased in a plastic bag that he'd found in the kitchen of Apollo Mansion. He didn't know for sure why he had started keeping it with him, except that it seemed safer, somehow. He held the plastic bag gingerly between his thumb and forefinger and turned toward the Disrecorder.

The idea had come to him while they'd been watching the vision of Franklyn. The Disrecorder was only supposed to work on objects that had been especially enchanted, of course, but James couldn't help wondering. Ever since he had saved Petra's life on the back the Gwyndemere , the dream story had become too magical for him to touch directly. Perhaps, however, it was just magical enough to trigger something in the Disrecorder, something James could make sense of. James couldn't guess why Petra and her dream story seemed to possess such strange magical intensity, but he meant to find out. Even if it meant that he was, essentially, spying on her dreams. Gingerly, he tipped the plastic bag upside down over the stone bowl.

The parchment packet tumbled out and fell into the bowl with a tiny thump.

A gust of dry wind pushed past James suddenly, whipping his hair and forcing him to squint. He turned around on the spot, and dull brightness filled his vision. He was in daylight, standing atop a grassy plateau. The hall of the Archive had completely vanished. Even the stone pedestal of the Disrecorder itself was gone. This, James realized, was no hazy vision; it felt utterly solid, and yet surreal, as if every blade of dead grass was watching him and every cloud in the low, heaving sky was glowering down at him, coldly angry. The featureless grass of the plateau stretched away in all directions and James realized that the plateau was actually an island, surrounded by craggy cliffs. Slate grey waves slammed against the cliffs, sending spray up into the windy air.

And of course, there was the castle, jutting up in the near distance. It was made of black stone, small but so tall, so encrusted with towers and turrets, that it seemed to claw at the cloudy sky. The structure loomed over the edge of the cliff, as if the rocks had eroded away beneath it, and yet the castle still stood, held up by sheer bloody-minded determination.

Someone was watching from the darkness of the castle. James sensed the weight of their gaze like hot stones on his skin. He peered up at the castle, shading his eyes against the grey light. A figure was standing on a high balcony, obscured in shadow.

I have come, a voice said. The words echoed over the grassy plateau like thunder. I watch and I wait. My time is very near. I am the Sorceress Queen. I am the Princess of Chaos.

James strained his eyes, trying to see past the shadowy dimness of the balcony. He could barely make out the figure except that it appeared to be a woman. Her hair streamed darkly in the wind. When she spoke again, a slow chill came over James, freezing him to the spot. His eyes widened, and the vision began to intensify, to bleed and pulse, to shred apart, but the words rang on, echoing louder and louder, pounding James' ears to the point of pain.

I watch and I wait, the voice repeated. My name will be known throughout all of the destinies. My name… is Morgan. She who strides between the worlds.

The vision shattered and flew apart. Darkness swirled, compressed, and vanished into a single dark point, which hovered over the pedestal of the Disrecorder like a hole in space. A moment later, even that winked from view.

James stood rooted to the floor of the hall, his hair sticking up and his heart pounding.

It's just a dream, he told himself, repeating the words over and over. It's just that part of Petra's mind—the Morgan part—wanting to get out. Petra has it locked away, imprisoned, under control. That's all it is. That must be all it is…

James shuddered violently, remembering the hopeless toll of that dreaming voice.

Footsteps approached, accompanied echoing voices; Zane and Ralph were returning. Quickly, James stepped forward to retrieve the dream story, but then he stopped, his eyes widening.

The bowl of the Disrecorder was empty. Petra's dream story had completely vanished.