**Interlude

  A Plan in the Dark

  They stopped just shy of the Deadwood Shrine’s boundary.

  Not because they wanted to — but because they had to.

  The cold glow ahead bled through the trees like moonlight seen through fogged glass. It pulsed in slow, steady breaths, as if the shrine were a living creature exhaling.

  Nolan positioned Trixie on a fallen log, keeping one arm around her as she tried to steady her shaking breath. Dixie paced in tight circles at their feet, tail bushed so wide she looked nearly circular.

  The forest behind them groaned.

  The forest ahead of them… waited.

  Nolan swallowed hard, forcing his focus onto the two beings who mattered in that moment.

  “Okay,” he said quietly. “We need a plan.”

  Dixie skidded to a halt. “Finally. I’ve been waiting twelve hours for you to say those words.”

  “It hasn’t been twelve hours.”

  “It emotionally has.”

  Trixie let out a small laugh that instantly dissolved into a soft whimper. Nolan rubbed her back soothingly, heart hammering in his chest.

  Dixie hopped up onto the log beside Trixie and planted both paws on Trixie’s knee. “You’re not walking in there unprepared.”

  Trixie stared into the eerie light of the Shrine. “I’m not walking in there at all.”

  “You will,” Dixie said, softer. “But not alone.”

  Nolan tightened his arm around her. “The forest wants you in that shrine. The Archivist wants you in that shrine. And the Hollow King definitely wants you in that shrine.”

  “That makes three forces too many,” Trixie whispered.

  “Then we even the odds,” Nolan said.

  Dixie sat taller, ears up. “Yes. With us.”

  Trixie gave a small, tremulous smile. “My brave, sarcastic dream team.”

  “No sarcasm,” Nolan said, which immediately made Dixie snort.

  Trixie looked between them, voice cracking. “I don't want either of you hurt.”

  Dixie whipped her tail across Trixie's hand in indignation. “I’m a familiar. I get hurt all the time. It builds character.”

  Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

  “And I’m a cop,” Nolan added. “Getting hurt is literally my job description.”

  “Neither of you are funny,” Trixie whispered, eyes damp.

  “Good,” Dixie said. “We’re not trying to be.”

  Nolan cleared his throat. “Here’s what we know: the Shrine wants Trixie. The forest is pushing her toward it. We can’t outrun this. So whatever’s going to happen… we face it on our terms.”

  Dixie hopped closer to Trixie’s chest, bumping her nose against her chin. “We walk in together. No splitting up.”

  “And I stay between you and anything that moves,” Nolan said.

  “That includes the forest,” Dixie added.

  “And shadows,” Nolan said.

  “And sigils,” Dixie added.

  “And anything that smells like the Archivist,” Nolan finished.

  “Which is ‘ink and smug,’” Dixie said helpfully.

  Trixie let out another soft laugh. “I can’t do this.”

  “Yes,” Nolan said quietly, leaning close, his forehead brushing hers for just a second. “You can.”

  Dixie’s voice gentled. “And we don’t let you break.”

  Trixie shook her head. “He almost broke me.”

  “Yes,” Dixie said, “and you almost broke him.”

  Trixie blinked. “What?”

  “The Hollow King,” Dixie said, tail flicking. “He pushed you. Hard. But you made Him pause. You made Him wait. That’s unheard of.”

  Trixie stared at her. “You’re saying I scared a void god?”

  “I’m saying,” Dixie replied, “you confused one. Which is honestly more impressive.”

  Nolan pointed at the glowing shrine. “And we use that. Whatever He doesn’t understand about you? That’s your wedge. That’s where we pry Him off.”

  Trixie’s breath caught. “You two really think I can do this?”

  Nolan took her hands gently. “I don’t think. I know.”

  Dixie bumped her head against Trixie’s knuckles. “You’re my witch. You don’t break. You bend funny, and sometimes you spiral, but you don’t break.”

  Trixie sniffed, fighting tears. “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. What’s the plan then?”

  Dixie sat upright, suddenly all business.

  “Plan is simple: You focus on staying yourself.” She tapped her forehead with her paw. “You let Nolan and me handle everything else.”

  Nolan nodded firmly. “Anything tries to get near you? We stop it.”

  “And if the Hollow King whispers again?” Trixie asked softly.

  Nolan squeezed her hands. “You listen to my voice instead.”

  Dixie added, “And mine.”

  “And if the Archivist shows up?” Trixie whispered.

  Dixie hissed. “Then I show him what a magical familiar can do to a fragile, book?breathing void puppet.”

  Nolan smirked. “And I hit him with my crowbar.”

  Trixie blinked. “That won’t work.”

  “I don’t care,” Nolan said. “I’m doing it anyway.”

  Trixie gave another shaky laugh, tears spilling now.

  “Okay,” she whispered. “Okay. I’m ready.”

  Dixie pressed her head into Trixie’s sternum.

  Nolan cupped her cheek gently.

  “We go in,” he said. “We stay together.” “No matter what voices call,” Dixie added, “you answer us.” “We survive this,” Nolan said. “We walk out of the Shrine alive,” Dixie finished.

  They rose together.

  Hand. Shoulder. Paw.

  And stepped toward the Deadwood Shrine.

  Where the forest was waiting. Where the Hollow King was listening. And where Trixie Bell’s fate was already shifting in the roots beneath her feet.