Apparently, they had slept right through the Minaret’s call. The countdown clock was already sliding backward through livid red numbers above their head.

“What? That is so unfair!” Winnie finally seemed to be awake. “Wait, where is T.T.? And your uncle?”

They were nowhere to be found.

And there was nothing left of the previous level. The game had shifted its world completely, folding the outlines of the dock into a path through the dense underbrush. Only the boat remained, as out of place as shorts in a snowstorm.

But at the end of the path, something stood, flickering in the first rays of daylight. A person, watching and waiting.

Not the MasterMind, or even T.T. It was a boy with high arched brows, an imperious smirk, and dark-circled eyes.

The Architect himself.

“You!” Ahmad gasped.

“Well, I’m pleased to see that you’ve made it this far,” the Architect said.

“In spite of all your little games and tricks,” Ahmad responded sharply. “Maybe you’re losing your touch!”

The Architect puffed out his chest. “If anything, I’m stronger. I was weaker before, easily cowed and devastated by the game’s undoing. But it’s a new day, and you’d better prepare with everything you have. I’m not one to throw down the dice lightly, and every turn of this world will bring a twist of fate to light.”

There was a dramatic pause.

“Oh, great,” Winnie said, rubbing sleep from her eyes. “Wait, what happened?”

When Ahmad reached out and tapped the silent Architect on the shoulder, his fingers slipping right through the apparition, he shuddered back to life.

“Well, I’m pleased to see . . .”

“He’s a hologram,” Ahmad said grimly. “Apparently, he couldn’t be bothered to come and greet us himself.”

“In a way,” T.T. said from behind them, and they both jumped. He had a tendency to appear out of nowhere, quiet as a mouse. “This is one of his new Shades—stop touching it, Ahmad!”

Winnie clutched Ahmad’s shoulder. “Yes, don’t bother with it. He’s trying to scare us. I see a path. I think that is where we are supposed to go next.”

“Ahem. Yes. I shall guard the boat in the meantime,” T.T. said, stroking his whiskers, perhaps enticed by the lure of more chenna murki.

Ahmad and Winnie eyed him, and he recoiled defensively. “Listen! I may be fierce, but inside my heart, I am still little. I’m just a mouse in a big, very hungry world. You’re human. You’ll be fine.”

“And what about Vijay Bhai?” Ahmad asked anxiously. “Do you know where he went?”

T.T. tittered nervously. “Ah, yes, well . . . he said he had a new idea about where to locate his balloons, and a few things he wanted to investigate. Don’t wait for him. He is not officially a player, you see.”