When Wesley opened his eyes again, he was still in the Uncharted Forest, only Tavia and the others were gone and in their place there was a woman with firewood eyes and a smile to kill and soothe. She had Saxony’s freckles and the same pointed jaw as Zekia, and wore a green dress that flowed behind her like a cape.

“You’re finally home,” the woman said.

Vea Akintola.

His mother.

Wesley had a mother.

“My boy,” she said.

Wesley relished how different those words sounded in her voice. Ashwood loved to call him that when he was being his most terrible.

My boy, I will make you the world.

My boy, you have never doubted me before.

My boy, be very, very careful.

The words were possessive on his shadow lips, as though Wesley belonged to him. His favorite toy. His most treasured lapdog.

They were a claim.

But when Vea spoke them, with delicacy and a soft smile as warm as Creijen summer, Wesley felt newly cherished.

My boy.

A way of telling him that he wasn’t alone anymore.

“Is this real?” Wesley asked.

Vea nodded.

“How can I be sure?”

“Spiritcrafters can connect with the dead,” she said. “I was one, but I didn’t handle it so well. You’ve got a hold on your power in a way I never did. Then again, you were born with your staves, so I shouldn’t be surprised that you’re a quick learner.”

“I’m not a Spiritcrafter. I’m an Intuitcrafter.”

“Magic works in strange ways,” Vea said. “Yes, every Crafter has a specialty. But sometimes, every so often, gifts are inherited. Sometimes, the rules get to be broken, just a little.”

“Either that, or I’m high on dream dust,” Wesley said.

Vea laughed and Wesley thought it was strange that he could miss a sound he’d never even heard until now.

“I think the Many Gods wanted us to talk,” Vea said. “We’re vessels for their will.”

Wesley grimaced.

A vessel was just a fancy word for a pawn and he had quite enough of being the product of someone else’s plans.

“I don’t believe in the Many Gods,” he said. “It’s just a good curse word to throw around.”

Vea shrugged, like she’d expected him to say that.

“You’ve grown so much since I last saw you. Are you happy with it?”

It was not the growing she meant, Wesley quickly realized, but who he had grown into. Wesley didn’t want to reply, a little because he thought Vea already knew the answer. But also because Wesley wasn’t sure whether or not he did.

Yes, Wesley was happy that he’d grown into someone who could protect himself, but that had only been possible because his family had abandoned him.

He was happy to have built himself a home, but now Ashwood had destroyed that.