It was outlawed among every Kin in the four realms. It could hide a Crafter’s magic from everyone, including themselves, but performing something so ungodly came with a price: a curse over the entire Kin that would never end.

Saxony’s mother hadn’t just died in a fire. She had sacrificed her life to hide Malik from the world. Saxony thought back to that black flame, burning through the tree house. How her mother didn’t try to run and she didn’t scream; she just let it take her. Saxony always thought she’d remembered that part wrong, but she hadn’t.

She thought about how that same black fire that had destroyed her family had poured from Wesley’s fingers when they were attacked.

How the trees in this beloved forest had sung when Wesley appeared and rustled their leaves in joy whenever he made a joke, like they were laughing alongside him.

How his staves were such a bright silver against his dark skin, just like hers. Just like the rest of her Kin.

“Many Gods,” Saxony said.

It couldn’t be true. It just couldn’t.

“Wesley?” she asked.

Amja and her father didn’t need to nod for Saxony to know she was right.

That was how he was able to perform a spell at the consort’s headquarters all those months ago in Creije. How he was able to take on Arjun, a Crafter who had trained his whole life, without breaking a sweat. How he’d nearly killed Ashwood.

Malik was a magical prodigy after all.

“I would have tried to find another way if I knew what Vea was planning,” Bastian said. “But I think she knew it was the only choice.”

“I don’t understand,” Saxony said. “You sent Malik—”

She paused.

She couldn’t say Wesley’s name.

“You sent him to Creije?”

“It wasn’t a magical mecca then,” Amja said. “It was just a dreamer’s paradise, and the Intuitcrafters said that of all the futures they saw, the ones that had Malik in Creije felt the most hopeful. They said being there would grow his heart. We had allies there who we knew and trusted. The Lieges of the Creijen Kin took him in.”

The Lieges.

The Creijen Kin was small, that’s what Theodora had said when Saxony and Asees summoned her. Their old Liege and his entire family were killed by buskers twelve years ago.

Twelve years ago, when Wesley had become a busker.

The floor felt unstable beneath Saxony’s feet, like it was made from wet soil instead of wood and Saxony was preparing to sink into it.

“They promised to keep Malik safe from all magic to stop that future from coming true. They stopped practicing to protect him.”