I walk around the pedestal, heart pounding. There's nothing that jumps out at me — until I see a miniature grate inlaid in the floor at the bottom of the wall. A gentle wind is rustling underneath, carrying a hint of rose and rot. I sink to my knees, resting my hand on the grate. Something thrums under it, a pulse that impersonates breath.
My breath catches. Below this grate, someone or something is breathing.
Gripping my torch a little harder, I stoop down to look into the dark even deeper between the iron bars. The gap is slim, too small to clamber into. But I catch that unmistakable smell—-Isolde's magic mixed with life. My heart pounding, I unsheathe my dagger, and jam its tip underneath the edge of the grate. It gets struck loose with groan that fills the chamber.
