THE HIDDEN SCROLLSThe air in the gallery was thick with the smell of old dust and expensive candle wax. Every shadow looked like a soldier. We moved in a line, our footsteps swallowed by the thick rugs. Finn led the way, his hand never leaving the hilt of his sword. He kept glancing back at Jax and Silas, his eyes darting like a trapped bird.

"Wait," I whispered, pulling on Finn’s sleeve.

He jumped, his breath hitching. "What? Did you hear something?"

"No," I said, pointing to a small, ...