We’re on a beach, the sand dyed flickering orange from the light of a dozen bonfires. There are people everywhere, eating and laughing, drinking and dancing. A band plays music like nothing I’ve ever heard on Earth. My gaze drifts towards a teenaged girl with a curly mane of auburn hair as she dances to the music, her hands thrown over her head, not a care in the world. Her dress shimmers and twirls, caught occasionally by the warm ocean breeze.

Down the beach, at the edge of the party, two teenaged boys sit in the sand, taking a break from the festivities. One is tall for his age with close-cropped dark hair and sharp features. The other, smaller but more handsome than the first guy, has a shaggy mop of dirty blond hair and a square jaw. The blond is dressed in a loose-fitting white button-down, untucked and casual. His friend is dressed more formally in a dark red shirt, ironed and perfect, the sleeves meticulously rolled up. The two of them, but the taller boy in particular, seem super interested in the dancing girl.

“You should just go for it,” says the blond, elbowing his friend. “She likes you. Everyone knows it.”

The dark-haired boy frowns, sifting a hand through the sand. “So what? What would be the point?”

“Uh, are you watching her dance? I can think of a lot of reasons, buddy.”

“She isn’t Garde. She’s not like us. We wouldn’t be able . . .” The dark-haired boy shakes his head gloomily. “Our worlds are too different.”

“She doesn’t seem to mind not being Garde,” the blond boy counters. “She’s having fun anyway. You’re the one hung up on it.”

“Why do we have Legacies while she doesn’t? It doesn’t seem fair, that some should be stuck being so . . . normal.” The dark-haired boy turns to his friend, an earnest look on his face. “Do you ever think about that stuff?”

In answer, the blond boy holds out an open palm. In it, a tiny ball of fire comes to life and quickly shapes itself into the form of a dancing girl.

“Nope,” he says, grinning.

The dark-haired boy concentrates for a moment and the little fire-dancer suddenly winks out of existence. The blond boy frowns.

“Stop it,” he complains. “You know I hate when you do that.”

The dark-haired boy smiles apologetically at his friend and turns his Legacies back on.

“Stupid Legacy,” he says, shaking his head. “What good is something that only works against other Garde?”

The blond boy waves towards the dancer. “See? You’re perfect for Celwe. She doesn’t have any Legacies, and you’ve got the crappiest one there is.”

The dark-haired boy laughs and punches his friend playfully in the shoulder. “You always know the right things to say.”

“That’s true,” the blond replies, grinning. “You could learn a lot from me.”