This, Jax thought, would be a terrible place to die.

He crept along the damp tunnel. The air smelled of must and salt, and something crunched under his feet. Bones? Leaves? Letters written by dying heroes? Impossible to tell. Jax ducked to avoid a low-hanging vine, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

"Hello?" Jax called.

His voice rang through the tunnel.

"I'm here about the prophecy?" Jax asked. "Like, the one predicting the end of the world?" He paused. "I'm not sure if you've heard, but Persophecles is dead. So I'm here instead. Er, it's Jax. Jax Blackwater."

More silence.

Jax forced his feet to move forward. He catalogued the vines as he went — twining, hook climbers, tendril bearers — and his shoulders relaxed slightly. This was fine. Maybe they had the wrong cave, Jax thought hopefully; maybe the oracle didn't live in this cave, and he wouldn't ever have to—

Light spilled from the end of the tunnel.

"Oh, blast," Jax whispered.

The cave opened into a wide room; bronze bird cages and twinkling yellow lights hung from the ceiling, and someone had painted a mural on the opposite wall. The air was heavy with a spicy musk. Cautiously, Jax peeked around the corner.

He paused.

A middle-aged man sat in an armchair, smoking a pipe. He was dressed in a crushed red velvet jacket, chortling to himself as he turned the pages of a book. Cigar smoke wreathed his salt-and-pepper hair.

"Er." Jax cleared his throat. "Excuse me?"

The man shot out of the chair. "Who are you?"

Jax gripped his sword. "Who are you?"

"I asked you first," the man said.

He hastily waved away the pipe smoke, smoothing down the velvet jacket. Jax had the sense that he hadn't been expecting visitors. "My name is Jax. Jax Blackwater. I'm the cousin to Persophecles."

The man raised an eyebrow. "And Persophecles is...?"

"The destined saviour?"

"Oh." The stranger waved a hand. "Right. Yes. Sorry, I haven't been outside this cave for a long time." He crossed to the sideboard, measuring out a syrupy red liquid. "Would you care for some port?"

"No, thanks," Jax said politely.

The man poured a splash into a crystal tumbler, holding it out towards Jax. Jax didn't know what to do, so he took the port. The man nodded, and — apparently satisfied — ushered Jax towards a cushy armchair.

"Um." Jax took a seat. "Is the oracle around?"

The man kicked his feet up. "You're looking at him."

"You're the oracle?"

Jax couldn't keep the surprise out of his voice. He hoped it wasn't rude. The man took a long sip of port and wiggled his slippers.

"Call me Riven."

Jax's hands felt sweaty on the cold glass. "I didn't think you'd be so..."

"Young?" Riven asked, sounding amused. "Male? Exceptionally handsome?" He took another sip of port. "It's a family business. Mum died last year, and I'm new to the job. She was the one that gave the prediction about your cousin and the whole..." He waggled his fingers. "You know."

"Right," Jax said, wondering how often this man summed up cataclysmic world-ending destruction with the phrase you know.

Riven offered him a platter. "Bread?"

"Thanks," Jax said, accepting a hunk of baguette.

Another platter appeared. "Meat?"

"Oh, I..." Jax paused. It seemed terribly rude to explain he was vegetarian, particularly after the "I-thought-you'd-be-an-old-woman" incident. He took a fat sausage and resolved to toss it into the nearest planter. "Thanks."

"Where is he?" Riven asked. "Your cousin?"

Jax lowered the bread. "Dead."

"Oh, dear."

"Yeah," Jax said. And then, in case it was relevant, he added, "He was eaten by a sea monster ten days ago."

"Nasty way to go," Riven observed.

"I agree."

Riven swirled his port. "So you're taking his place on the epic quest? To kill the mother of monsters? No offense, but you don't look like much of a hero." He studied Jax. "How old are you?"

"Seventeen."

"And you work in...?" Riven raised a glittering hand, his golden rings winking. "No, let me guess. Luxury gift baskets?"

"I'm a florist," Jax said.

Riven nodded, as if this made complete sense. "Here's my advice, kid. Turn around now. Go back to where you came from. Forget about the whole thing."

He took a sip of port. Jax swallowed.

"I can't," he said.

Riven rolled up a velvet sleeve. "Sure you can."

"No, I can't," Jax said, more firmly this time. "The monsters are growing worse. They're starting to overrun whole villages."

"That's someone else's problem," Riven said.

Jax shifted. "And also..."

He trailed off, staring into the depths of the port; it was the same colour as the crimson carnations that bloomed along the riverbank in the summer, spreading like a sea of fire. Riven raised his glass.

"And also?" Riven prompted.

Jax looked up. "If I complete the mission, I can have my books published."

Riven's eyebrows flew up. "You write books?"

Jax shook his head. "Not very good ones."

"Have you read this?"

Riven held up a book; it was a leatherbound copy, stamped with golden letters. Jax squinted at the title: Upon Snowier Hills. "Oh, I love Dembrandt! Brilliant stuff. That opening scene with the boy and the red wagon?" He shook his head. "Gave me chills."

Riven lowered the book. He was studying Jax with an intent expression, absently swirling the port in one hand. Then he shrugged. "Alright."

Jax frowned. "Alright?"

"Alright." Riven set the book down. "If you want to run towards certain death, who am I to stop you? Wait here a second."

He vanished down the corridor. Jax threw the sausage in the fire. Then he opened his rucksack, held a finger up to his mouth, and slipped the chunk of bread inside. He could hear a snuffling noise as Bibi greedily attacked the baguette.

Footsteps approached. Jax hastily zipped the bag closed.

Riven appeared, carrying a large silver tray; two dozen beige, crescent-shaped objects lay on top of it, and he shoved the tray towards Jax.

"Choose a cookie," Riven said.

Jax blinked. "Why?"

He shook the tray. "To choose your direction."

Jax stared. "You want me to determine the course of the most important quest in history via... fortune cookie?"

Riven sighed. "Seems like an unnecessarily dramatic statement, but yeah." More shaking. "Go on. Pick a cookie."

Jax eyed them suspiciously. "Did you make these?"

"Several weeks ago," Riven said. "I wouldn't eat them; the dough's gone a bit stale." He paused, frowning slightly. "Also, I was high at the time, so I can't actually remember what I put in them."

Jax wrinkled his nose. "Do heroes always do this?"

"Just pick a cookie, Jax Blackwater."

Jax leaned forward. Surely one of the cookies would speak to him? Not like, literally, but metaphorically. But they just looked like a bunch of questionably baked biscuits, so Jax plucked one at random, cracking it open.

He scanned the written lines. His heart sunk.

"What does it say?" Riven demanded.

Jax looked up. "I have to go through Siren Cove. Then I have to journey through the Forest of Nightmares and across the River of Blood to reach the Scorched Plains." His throat felt dry. "Apparently, that's where I'll find my answer."

Riven's face fell. "Bugger."

"Yeah."

Riven thought for a moment. Then he held out the tray. "You sure you don't want to pick another cookie?"

**

Jax emerged from the cave.

Blinding sunshine stung his eyes. The smell of spring honeysuckle tickled his nose, along with something heady like olives. Three figures sprawled on a boulder: Asa lay on his back, tossing an apple up in the air; Xander was carrying a bird around on a skinny stick; and Romes was tapping a knife against her thigh, scanning the surrounding area.

Their eyes locked.

"Jax." She looked stunned. "You're alive."

Xander spun. Asa jumped to his feet. All three began speaking at once, babbling in their haste to talk over one another.

"What happened?" Romes demanded.

Xander waved his stick. "Did you take any cave samples?"

"That was a stupid thing to do," said Asa. "If you'd died—"

"But he didn't die," Romes cut in. "Look at him. He's fine."

Xander lifted a finger. "About those cave samples—"

"Stop." Jax held up a hand. To his gratification, they all fell silent immediately. "I've spoken with the oracle. We have a direction."

Romes stared. "You spoke with the oracle?"

Exasperation filled him. "What did you think I was doing inside that cave? Napping? Reading? Having a little picnic among the stalactites?"

"I personally thought you got lost," Asa volunteered. "Then I remembered I'm not that lucky."

Jax ignored this. "I'm going back to the ship."

He started down the hill. Romes fell into step beside him, her dark ponytail swinging. A yellow-and-green bruise poked out from her white collar, the same colour as spring chlorophyll. She smelled like olives, Jax realized; she must have eaten a few while he was in the cave.

"What did the oracle say?" Romes asked.

Jax shoved aside a branch. "We have to travel through Siren Cove. Then it's on to the Forest of Nightmares, the River of Blood, and the Scorched Plains."

Romes sighed. "I don't suppose the oracle could have picked somewhere nice. The Beach of Many Nice Waters? The Hammock of Tranquility?"

Jax glanced sideways. "You don't have to come, you know."

"You don't want me along," Romes said. "I get it."

Her shoulders were stiff. Something in Jax softened.

"I never said that," Jax said. "I just think it'll be dangerous. Asa, Xander, and I... We all have reasons to complete the quest. There's something waiting for us on the other side. But you?" He held a branch so she could pass under it. "I don't get why you want to risk this."

Romes glanced back. "I'm coming."

"Why?"

"I just am," Romes said. "So let's drop it, okay?"

She charged ahead. And Jax stared after her, wondering what on earth was so bad about Exerbury that she'd rather journey into hell than stay there.