When they finally get to the Kingpin’s island, they’re shocked to see Saxony’s sister, Zekia, is there willingly. And she created the Loj elixir. What?! Turns out, she’s also the girl Wesley gave up to the Kingpin, and so he feels responsible for her corruption. Oops.

A deadly fight breaks out and Wesley wounds Ashwood, making him flee through a magical gateway. Then staves—ancient Crafter markings—appear on Wesley’s skin and Saxony realizes he’s a true Crafter! His magic was hidden, even from him. Zekia then uses mind control to masquerade as Tavia and convince Wesley to leave with her. They escape through the gateway, leaving the real Tavia heartbroken.

Meanwhile, Karam and Arjun have set off the time barrels, freezing the Kingpin’s army and defeating his forces, including a living, if mind-controlled, Asees. Yay! Only, then the island starts to crumble and sink into the sea. Not so yay. BUT the gang manages to escape just in time, and they set off to assemble a bigger army of Crafters and criminals from across the world to defeat Ashwood. And Tavia vows to rescue Wesley!

Dedication

To all the magic you bring into the world, every day. Even when you don’t realize.

Map

PROLOGUE

VEA

Vea Akintola didn’t want to die, but people hardly ever got a choice in that.

Death was a monster in a world of magic, and unlike other monsters, it didn’t lurk in the shadows or hide where you never thought to check. It stood out in the open, where you could always see it.

It let you know that it was there, that it was waiting, and that it would come for you.

Vea cradled Malik in her arms and let his tiny fingers wrap around hers. He held on to her like she was a secret he wanted to keep for himself.

“It’s time,” her mother said.

Vea nodded. Her mother was always prompt, even when it came to killing her.

“Are you ready?” Vea’s mother asked, swooping her hair into a long graying braid that trailed down the staves on her arms. Her curls flicked at the ends, refusing to be properly tamed, escaping wherever possible.

Vea’s mother had a magic in her that was hard to pinpoint. It was in every part of her, from her white eyes to the scars that looked like puzzles across her familiar face. She looked gentle and harsh, brave and fearful, and very much like a mother, in that she stared at Vea like she’d better get a move on, lest she be late to her own funeral.

“I’m ready,” Vea said, at the same time that Malik said, “Here we goooooo.”

“Will there be magic?” he asked.

Malik was only five and so often didn’t understand what was going on.

“Lots and lots,” Vea said, tickling his stomach until his laughter carried into the wind.