Is this my fate? To only feel close to versions of friends who don’t exist in this reality, while my one friend who does is far away?

Knowing that I might be able find more information about Avalina without ever leaving Ivory Hall should make me feel better, but it doesn’t. Because maybe searching for a plan gave me something to occupy my thoughts as I lay awake. I’m always exhausted, but terrified of falling asleep.

Of dreaming.

Of encountering a vision of a bleak future each time I close my eyes.

Just when I think I have my training schedule figured out, fate—in the form of Norah—throws me for a loop.

“Apprentices,” she says, from atop a small stage in the center of the workshop’s amphitheater, “the moment you’ve been anticipating since second term started is finally here. Everything is about to change.”

The room fills with animated chatter, and I feel like I missed a step. I turn toward the girl sitting beside me—a girl with sandy-brown hair named Ingrid. She’s the only other Bone Charmer training at Ivory Hall.

“What’s going on? What is Norah talking about?”

“Bone games,” Ingrid whispers.

Of course. They’ve been mentioned a few times, but I’ve been so focused on finding Latham and ignoring Bram, I haven’t given them much thought.

But now a memory tickles at the back of my mind: tables spread along the length of the workshop, a pile of bones placed in front of me, a contest to assemble and identify them as quickly as possible. Bram’s face floats behind my eyes and my cheeks go hot. He was there. I can nearly feel the ghost of his fingers brushing against mine. Weren’t those games? It’s like a key in a lock that doesn’t quite fit but feels like it might if I just wiggle it a little.

“Haven’t we already played bone games?” I ask. And then I catch my mistake. “Haven’t you already played them, I mean? Before I got here.”

Ingrid shakes her head. “No, it’s a second-term thing. They started including them a few years ago. It was my brother’s favorite part of training.” She tilts her head to one side. “Are you thinking of bone races?”

Bone races. That’s right. The words click into place in my mind, along with the rest of the memory from my other path. The hard set of Bram’s mouth as he worked. The triumphant expression on his face as we slid the last Bradypus bone into place and won the contest. But then something slips inside me. It’s not a memory. It was only a possibility and it never happened. Not for him.

“Yes,” I say, “that’s right—bone races.”

Norah brings a bone amplifier up to her lips and clears her throat. “If you’ll quiet down, I can continue.”