The lid slammed shut.
Something heavy scraped across the top of the dresser; they'd moved the dresser, and Tommy heard the click of a latch engaging. He was lying in a fetal position surrounded by stuffed animals and wooden blocks, his knees pressed against his chin, the clipboard digging into his ribs.
From outside, muffled and cheerful:
"Phase two complete."
"That was easy," Luna said.
"Tommy makes everything easy," Frost agreed. "He's very predictable."
Tommy pressed his palms against the lid and pushed. Nothing. He pushed harder, summoning his water magic, feeling the familiar heat bloom in his muscles, and the toy box didn't budge. They'd reinforced it. Of course, they'd reinforced it. These were the children of the most powerful woman in the settlement and maybe the world, and they'd turned a wooden chest into a vault.
He was trapped. Trapped in a toy box by children.
"Frost," Tommy called, his voice echoing in the cramped darkness. "Luna. Open this box right now."
