She’d never had a spell react to her like that. And she’d had plenty of strange magical things happen to her.

Five years ago, she’d discovered that she had visions of the future. Gelryn the Destroyer, the formidable dragon of the Great War, called her a harbinger. After her series of visions during the dragon tournament, which brought her and Fordham together and led her to win the tournament, Gelryn had discovered that she was a spiritcaster. There hadn’t been one in a millennium, and when she returned to Kinkadia, she would have to find a way to control her spirit magic or else be consumed by it.

But this didn’t feel like her visions. This felt like the spell was alive. Not just alive, but mad. Could spells have emotions? She’d never heard of such a thing.

“It’s like nothing I’ve ever seen before.”

Fordham nodded. “The lore is that the people who cast the spell all perished after casting it. Its strength is gained by their sacrifice.”

“Scales,” she murmured. “How terrible.”

Fordham made a noncommittal sound. He’d been so stoic the entire morning that she hadn’t quite noticed he was in distress until that moment. That he wasn’t mad at her because of the hangover. He was taking out his own unease about coming home on her.

“Are you ready?” she asked him gently.

“Yes,” he said, straightening his shoulders.

“Fordham, it’s me. You don’t have to pretend.”

But his eyes never wavered to her face. He stared straight ahead, as if he were facing down an enemy.

“Do you think you’ll be able to come back through?”

He didn’t respond, just lifted one shoulder.

Kerrigan came to his side and stared forward. “Together?”

He tipped his head down. She closed her eyes briefly, working up the courage to take his hand. When her fingers touched his, he didn’t yank them away, just twined them together. Then, as one, they crossed the border that led into the House of Shadows.

Kerrigan opened her eyes in a new world.

She’d grown up in a palace, surrounded by lush Bryonican gardens, and then lived inside Draco Mountain since she was five with the entire city of Kinkadia as her playground. But nothing prepared her for this.

The mossy valley led to a rustic village. It sat on the edge of a lush forest, leading to a trio of peaks reaching for the sky. Purple wildflowers blossomed along the stone walk, which was just big enough for a carriage. Horses grazed in open pastures, birds trilled in the trees, and everything was fertile and blossoming. The air was colder than home, and snow still lingered on the mountains. The view was picturesque. Not at all what she had thought the House of Shadows would be like.

“Wow,” was all she could manage.