“I don’t have to justify my decisions to you,” Mom says as Dad stomps down the stairs. There are bags under his eyes and his hair is all messy.

“Adults think they know everything,” Toivo says.

“Don’t take that tone with me, young man.” Mom brandishes her mug.

Toivo and Mom have had arguments before—serious ones inevitably resulting in slammed doors and Toivo doing all my chores for the next few weeks—but this is different. It feels as if a storm is brewing above our heads. I do not want to be caught up in the war that’s about to break loose.

“Leave it be, son,” Dad says.

“Students are going missing. Risto hasn’t been at school for over a week, and you won’t even admit what’s happening.” Toivo’s face is turning beet red with rage.

“Why is this happening?” I ask in the sudden silence filling up the kitchen.

“It’s complicated.” Mom shares a worried look with Dad.

“Then explain it to me.”

“Careful, whatever you say might end up in the Messenger,” Toivo says. “Or is Cludd saving space for Sini?”

“I really, truly hate you, you know that?” I glare at him, but the fire in my veins has been doused with ice water as my brain struggles to connect the dots. The break-in at Svalbard. Chaos mages. The most magical kids kidnapped and taken to a tonttukivi. “Toivo, that was unnecessary,” Dad says. “But your brother’s right. We certainly don’t need a school-wide panic. I don’t want to see a word about any of this in the Messenger. Is that understood?”

“But if students are being kidnapped, maybe we should be panicking,” I say.

“You cannot possibly comprehend the gravity of this situation.” Concern has etched deep furrows at the corners of Mom’s eyes and mouth.

“I would if you explained it, but you treat me like a little kid. Like I don’t even exist.”

“This isn’t about you,” Toivo says.

“You’re right. It’s about Natalie. She asked me to help her. Why won’t you believe me?”

“Right, because you’re a budding necromancer,” Toivo says. “Who helped you? Was it that O’Connor kid?”

“Leave him out of it.”

“Taika the Talentless—”

Whatever Toivo was about to say gets vaporized as Mom explodes.

“Enough!” Mom detonates and turns on Toivo. “Go to your room this minute.”

For a moment I think he might argue, but even he knows when to back down. Silently, he trudges out of the kitchen.

“Please, Mom—”

“You too.” Her glare leaves me singed. “To your room. Not another word.”

I swallow my protests and slink out of the kitchen, padding slowly up the stairs. Toivo is waiting for me on the landing.