The Editor shook her head. “Time marched on without you, Eleanor. Broken or otherwise. Going back now would only create new problems. But I did make a minor revision for you—small enough it shouldn’t cause any problems.”

Eleanor opened the book to the last few pages and spotted the red-ink paragraph right away. “Everyone thinks we’ve been at a special boarding school in Maine?” she asked.

“You’ve been writing home regularly. They miss you, but they aren’t worried. I made sure to put in that you’ve been getting excellent grades,” the Editor said, sounding pleased with herself.

At least their families wouldn’t be frantic. “Thank you,” Eleanor said. She hugged the book against her chest. Jenny and Naomi and Lily and Pip’s dad were safe within the pages of this book.

The Editor glanced over at the hedgewitch, who was looking through her bag, checking her supplies. The Editor pulled out two other books—these ones much slimmer. “And I thought you might find these useful, too,” she whispered.

Eleanor looked at the titles, and her heart skipped a beat.

The Glass-Heart Girl, Version One.

Claire Barton, Version One.

“I’m afraid I don’t know your father’s name or origin, so I wasn’t able to find his book,” the Editor said.

Eleanor opened to the first page of her mother’s book. Claire Barton was born in Eden Eld to parents who tried their best to love her. Their best, alas, was not very good at all.

“Here. To carry them,” the Editor said. She handed Eleanor a tote bag with library of endersea 5,000TH annual poetry slam printed on it. Eleanor looked over her shoulder. The hedgewitch had finished her inspection of her satchel and was turning back. Eleanor tucked the three books into the tote and slung it over her shoulder. “Thank you,” she said, her voice hoarse.

“I always hope for a happy ending,” the Editor said, and patted her shoulder kindly. “Good luck, Eleanor. Good luck to all of you.”

Eleanor looked toward the others. They were ready, waiting for her. It was time to go. She steeled herself and reached for the Wending.

This time, it leaped into her grasp. She almost laughed in surprise—she could feel it, see it, all around her like a tapestry, every thread blazing in a thousand colors. Worlds and people, all woven together. Nothing was truly alone, she realized—everything in every world was bound to other things, other people. And she could see all of them.

“Eleanor, you’re glowing,” Otto said, sounding both alarmed and excited. Eleanor looked down at her hands. The words written on her skin were glimmering with light.

“It’s okay,” she said, grinning. The power shining within her wasn’t frightening anymore—it was wonderful. It was hers. She stretched out her hand. “Take us home,” she asked the Wending. “Please.”