The Familiars: Secrets of the Crown by Adam Jay Epstein, Andrew Jacobson

which made it likely to be absolutely true.
    Baxley’s paw prints stayed steady and straightforward along the river’s edge, except every mile or two when they stepped into the water – for what Aldwyn could only assume was a drink or to cool down – before resuming their path.
    Gilbert peered occasionally into the stagnant pools dotting the riverbank, trying to aid his companions with a helpful puddle viewing, only to look up disappointed each time.
    “Anything?” asked Aldwyn after what had seemed one of Gilbert’s more focused attempts.
    “Just my reflection,” complained Gilbert. “Maybe Paksahara’s curse took away my magic abilities too.”
    “That must be it,” said Skylar. “I’m sure you’re the only animal in all of Vastia whose talents have been dispelled.”
    Gilbert hung his head low.
    “It’s possible,” said Aldwyn, trying to cheer up the tree frog. “Unlikely, but possible.”
    The familiars continued their journey along the footpath until they arrived at a point where the glowing paw prints split off from the Ebs. Here the river veered west, while the trail remained steadfast to the north. As comforting as it would have been to have drinking water always just a few steps away, it was clear the Spheris’s pull had no concern for the convenience of those it was guiding. The metal ball had but one goal – to reunite with the Crown of the Snow Leopard.
    So north they travelled, leaving their own footprints behind them. Soon, hills began to rise up from the plateau floor, and the river was but a glimmering band of silver far in the distance. The wind picked up speed as gusts blew between the rocky channels formed by the curving landscape, kicking up dust clouds that made it difficult to see where they were going. Aldwyn kept his eyes on Baxley’s path, whose ethereal light never dimmed, no matter how much sand was swirling around it.
    By the time the sun began its afternoon descent from its zenith in the sky, the winds had calmed down somewhat, and the familiars could now see an isolated stone building up ahead. The structure appeared to be a small temple, surrounded by marble columns. Their true colour was hidden beneath a film of thin brown created by the daily dust storms. Around the temple was a graveyard of tombstones, crypts and mausoleums, all surrounded by a fence of twisted metal.
    “This must be a Sanctuary of the Agate,” said Skylar. “A house of worship for druids who pray to the cloud gods. They’re kind and welcoming to man and animal alike, so long as you respect their customs. Everything within the fence is sacred, protected by a single spotted gemstone that keeps evil at bay. Somewhere hidden on these grounds is its altar. Very few of these sanctuaries remain standing. I would have been interested to explore it further.”
    “Well, you’re in luck,” said Aldwyn. “Baxley’s paw prints lead right to it.”
    Aldwyn followed the glowing trail to the metal fence, which was no taller than the tip of his tail. Gilbert and Skylar remained at his side. Now that the sanctuary was in closer view, Aldwyn could see that it was in disrepair, the premises in a state of lonely abandon. The fountain out front appeared to be long dried up, and the silver doors of the temple were off their hinges.
    “Well, I’ve seen enough,” said Skylar, clearly not impressed.
    Aldwyn’s father seemed to have had the same thought because his footprints didn’t lead to the dilapidated entrance. They led round the back, past urns of dried flowers and fragmented tombstones.
    When he rounded the far columns of the sanctuary, Aldwyn found that the prints headed straight towards a stone mausoleum. One side had been bashed open to reveal that it was hollow inside. Aldwyn took note of the paw prints, which travelled inside the crypt and then back out again.
    “Baxley went in there,” said Aldwyn. “He was looking for something.”
    “The Crown?” asked Gilbert.
    The blue jay flew inside. Aldwyn