CHAPTER TWENTY EIGHT
Ceres stared up at the ziggurat of the forest folk. It was huge and ancient, obviously built long before their village, but still looking as though it belonged there. Beside her, Eoin stood waiting.
Steps led up the side, leading to the different levels of the structure. On each, one of the forest folk stood, or sat, or moved in elaborate dance fights with the air itself.
“What am I supposed to learn here?” Ceres said, and then caught herself. “I know, I know, everyone learns their own lessons. But how does this one work?”
“It’s simple,” Eoin said. “When you can meet me at the top, you will be ready.”
“Ready for what?” Ceres demanded.
Eoin shrugged, with a smile that was far too infuriating. “I’ll tell you that at the top.”
He ran up the steps and Ceres made to
