“We were children when we found our doors, all of us. Maybe they don’t prey on adults, or maybe adults don’t come back, but I’ve never met anyone who was considered fully grown by their original society before they found their first door. We were children when the worlds we’d chosen threw us back to the world where we’d been born, and we were children when we came here. Lost, frightened children clinging to the only rope we had, the only lifeline that would keep us from tumbling into the abyss of self-doubt and despair. In that windmill, with Dr. Bleak and Alexis, with the Moon watching over me, I started to feel like I could be an adult. Like I could be happy growing up and settling down, like I knew where I belonged. Perhaps I didn’t watch Jill as closely as I could have. Perhaps there were signs I missed, signs that something dangerous and cruel was gathering at the edges of my little world. I was happy. That was my crime.”

“If it was a crime, we all shared it,” said Alexis. “None of us saw this coming. None of us had a clue.”

“I am a genius, and should have known when the wolves were at my door, but thank you,” said Jack. “You are, and will always be, more than I deserve.”

“Stop flattering me and finish asking these nice people for help,” said Alexis.

“Even so,” said Jack. She looked at Kade. “Last night, as the sun was setting, the Master’s forces attacked our windmill. They seized me. And they offered Dr. Bleak a choice. Perform a very specific procedure on my sister and myself, or see me ripped to pieces, and each piece thrown to a different corner of our world, to guarantee no resurrection would be possible. I was screaming, begging him to let me die, when they began threatening Alexis. I understood what they’d do to me, you see, and I was afraid—but not so afraid that I could countenance letting them harm my heart. Second resurrections always come with consequences. Third … if you’re fortunate, or unfortunate, they can be done. They’re never worth it.”

“What did they do?” asked Kade.