Free Juniper Berry by M. P. Kozlowsky Page A

something was.
    From behind the tree, Giles let out a startled gasp. His eyes were focused downward; his jaw hung slack.
    Juniper followed his mystified gaze. In the bottom of the tree was a gaping hole, opening into the ground like a black mouth.
    â€œStairs,” Giles muttered.
    Juniper collapsed into a crouch and leaned her head closer to the hole, peering within. “It’s so dark. They look like they spiral and twist, but I can only see a few of them.”
    â€œDo . . . do we go down?”
    As if in response, the raven took flight, whizzing past their faces and down into the darkness, an echoing cry left for them to follow.
    Juniper turned to Giles. “We go down.”
    She placed her foot on the first cracked step, and a nauseating chill crawled up her ankle. Her entire body went cold.
    Ducking her head and taking a deep breath, she took a step beneath the tree, then another, gripping the earthen walls for balance and guidance. Large insects crawled up and over her feet and across her hands. Spiderwebs clung to the walls like clouds. “Don’t let me do this alone, Giles.”
    â€œI’m right behind you,” he said, and to reassure her, he reached out and put a hand on her shoulder. Juniper, warmed at the touch, reached up and grabbed it.
    The two friends moved slowly, unable to see the steps in front of them, the light of the outside extinguished in mere moments as if someone had squeezed the sun out. They didn’t know how long they were descending, but it felt like hours. For Juniper, time seemed to have halted, or stretched into something immeasurable, incalculable. Maybe down here there was no time.
    â€œWhat if these keep going forever?” Giles asked. “What if we can’t ever get out?”
    Juniper feared that as well and then remembered, “Our parents got out. So will we.” But did she really believe that? How could she be sure the ones who emerged were the same ones from years ago?
    After what seemed like an eternity, there was a shuffling of light creeping up the stairs. The walls seemed to move within its soft glow, and, after a few more steps, Juniper had reached the bottom.
    There was only one direction in which she and Giles could go, and that was down a large hallway that stretched into further darkness. The only light came from four torches, two on either side of the hall. It was eerily quiet, the only sounds being the whispers of the flames.
    The raven flew from out of the distant darkness, hovered before them, squawked, then turned and flew back from where it came.
    â€œAre you ready?” Juniper asked.
    Giles was shaking, but he nodded his head and they began to venture down the hall, following the path of the bird.
    There were six doors in all, three on each side of the hall, all evenly spaced. They were massive wood doors with ornate carvings in each. Juniper and Giles stopped at one, inspecting it closely. A marking of an owl filled a large portion of a panel. The predator’s wings were extended and its claws were open. Just out of the owl’s grasp was an image of two keys crossed and, below that, spread between hieroglyphic-like symbols, were two sets of Roman numerals:
    III XXIII XL V VIII XII
XIII XIV LXI IX XX LII
    Seeing this, something buzzed within Juniper’s head. She had come across these images and numerals before. Reaching within her pocket, she seized her father’s charred journal entry. Flipping over the absurd ramblings, she saw the same exact markings scrawled on the back.
    Juniper decided to check the door directly across the hall.
    The carved panel on this door confounded her even more. It revealed a many-pillared building with a sun shining through it chasing eight little pigs from within. Below that was what appeared to be a lion, but with a snake as a tail and a goat’s head protruding from its back. It had a man pinned beneath its body. He appeared to be dead.
    â€œChimera,”