Isle of the Lost (Descendants 1)

“Any ideas?” Carlos looked over his shoulder nervously. “We don’t have weapons or magic. What would we fight with? Besides, how do we fight something made of stone?”

“There has to be a way,” Mal said. “We have to pass!” she shouted again. “Let us through!”

“Yeah, I’m not sure that’s working.” Evie sighed.

The gargoyles glared at the children with glowing eyes, their fangs bared, their stony wings beating the wind. “You cannot pass,” they said again in unison—and just as the creatures spoke, the thick gray clouds surrounding the long stone ramp dissipated, revealing a gap in the bridge, a forty-foot gulf with nothing below but air.

The bridge was broken, virtually impassable.

“Great,” Jay said. “So it’s over. Fine. Whatever. Can we go now?”

The others just stared.

Carlos had to admit Jay was probably right.

There was no apparent way to reach the castle. They had come all this way only to fail. Even if they could pass the gargoyles, there was no way to cross the bridge since there was no bridge. It was hopeless. Their journey was ended before it had truly begun.

Carlos stepped back and noticed something carved in the stones at the foot of the bridge. He sat down to read it.

“What is it?” Mal asked, kneeling next to him.

He brushed away the dirt and moss to reveal a sentence carved in the stones: Ye who trespass the bridge must earn the right of way.

“Great. So what are those, like, directions?” Mal looked at the others. “What does that mean? How do we earn the right of way?”

Evie shook her head as she glanced back up at the gargoyles and the broken bridge. “I don’t know, Mal. We don’t seem to have earned anything.”

“And technically, we are trespassers,” Jay said.

Evie frowned. “I think we should go. Maybe the bridge was destroyed—maybe it’s been like this for years. Maybe no one gets in and out now.”

“No. Those words have to mean something. But is it a riddle, or a warning?” Mal asked. She looked at the gap in the bridge and pushed her way past the others, toward the edge. She was determined to figure it out.

“What are you doing?” Carlos yelled. “Mal, wait! You’re not thinking straight.”

But she couldn’t wait, and she didn’t stop.

He took a step back, Jay and Evie flanking him. “Go after her,” Carlos said. “Pull her from the break in the stone before she falls. This is crazy.”

Jay nodded and followed her.

“It’s so sad,” Evie said. “To have come this far.”

“I know. But half a bridge might as well be no bridge at all,” Carlos muttered. He put down his machine and turned it off so that he wouldn’t have to listen to its beeping. The noise of the sensor—more proof of how close they’d come to finding the source of the power—only made things that much worse.

The moment Carlos killed the machine, the light in the gargoyles’ eyes faded. The eerie green glow receded back into their black stone sockets.

“Wait—did you just—”

Carlos looked incredulous. “Turn off the monsters? I think so.” He called out to Mal, who was now standing with Jay, just a few feet from the break in the stone ramp. “They’re like big doorbells, Mal. When we try to cross, they turn on. When we go to leave, they turn off.”

“So they’re another defense mechanism?” Evie looked unconvinced.

“Maybe.” Carlos studied the bridge. “Anything’s possible. At least, that’s what I’m starting to think.”

Mal came running back. “So maybe it’s just a test. Look,” she said, approaching the gargoyles, their eyes once more glowing. “Ask me your questions!” she called up to the guardians of the bridge. “Let us earn the right of way.”

But the gargoyles didn’t answer her.