Squinting, Evin craned his neck to look up at the wall. It was made of ivory bricks so smoothly put together that it seemed the wall was one perfect piece of stone. The wall jutted from the ground and went all the way into the sky, so far that it became obscured behind misty clouds that floated lazily in the sky. The wall ran forever into the horizon in either direction, disappearing into a haze behind the forest’s trees.

It had always been here, this wall. Well, for as long as Evin could remember anyway. He used to come and stare at it when he was younger, always wondering if it was possible to climb it, pondering whether there was some way to get to the other side and explore. Sometimes the sun hit it just right so that its reflection off of the pearly sheen became blinding, and Evin found the effect mesmerizing.

But he’d never dared get too close. Everyone knew the wall was magic. It had a way of making people act strangely if they touched it.

Lowering his gaze, Evin climbed to his feet and rubbed at his eyes. “That was a low move,” he said to Jorick. “Making me hit the wall doesn’t mean you’ve won. We are going. Tonight.”

Jorick didn’t respond. Prepared to renew their brawl, Evin lowered his hands and balled them into fists. But Jorick wasn’t looking at Evin. Instead, his eyes were aimed at the tree line. His wooden sword lay in the dirt.

The faint smell of ash met Evin’s nose and he followed Jorick’s line of sight.

A dark column of smoke rose from somewhere beyond the forest.

“The village,” Evin whispered.

Chapter Two

Evin and Jorick raced through the trees toward Hesiod. Low-hanging branches slapped their cheeks and they stumbled over bushes, but Evin didn’t care.

Marten was there. His mother. All the other people he’d grown up with. And yes, his father, who he now desperately hoped was all right.

As the boys reached the tree line, the flames were so hot that even from across a clearing, the heat warmed their skin. The massive building closest to them—the inn—was already engulfed by fire.

“No!” Evin screamed. Not thinking, he raced to the burning building, sure that he would find his family in a bucket line, working to put out the fire.

But as he got close, he saw the inn wasn’t the only building on fire. Every building in the village—from the town hall to the many thatched-roof homes, from the bakery to the stables—was burning. People ran through streets, fleeing from nightmarish creatures brandishing battle-axes. Evin’s blood ran cold and his arms began to tremble. He skidded to a stop.

“Why are you stopping?” Jorick shouted, but then he saw the monsters too.