Billos threw the saddlebag open and reached inside for the books. With trembling hands he pulled them out.

The Dark Priest had possessed the blue book before he’d stumbled into possession of the two that Johnis had lost at the massacre.

Billos hurried to the boulder at the clearing’s center. He didn’t know what power came with having all seven books. Nor with opening a single book.

In fact, he wasn’t sure he had the courage to find out just yet.

What he did have was an insatiable need to taste the same surge of power that he’d felt when he’d touched the book with his blood.

He set the books on the stone and pulled out his knife.

His heart was hammering; sweat ran down his cheeks; his hands trembled. Inconsequential details.

The black leather book on top stared up at him, beckoning, demanding, begging.

Touch me, Billos. Show me your blood, and I’ll show you a new world.

He sliced his finger with his knife and winced because he’d gone deeper than he’d meant to. Blood leaked from the cut.

Hooves pounded behind.

Panicked, he thrust his finger down and pressed it against the ancient leather cover.

The clearing vanished, replaced by the same darkness he’d seen before. A distorted hole erupted before him, and from the darkness the figure of a man dressed in black.

This could be Teeleh, he thought. Or the Dark Priest. But the figure didn’t quite look like either.

The man’s long arm reached out for Billos, long fingernails beckoning. A moan filled his ears, so loud Billos thought the sound might be coming from his own throat.

Then the vortex opened to another place, not as dark. A six-foot hole in this world stood right in front of him, ringed in rippling blackness. He reached out and touched the hole with a single finger. But his finger went beyond the surface into a place that was warmer than the clearing.

Billos could feel his bones shaking, but his fear didn’t dim his desire. He stepped forward to the edge of the large hole.

“Billossss . . .” Someone was calling his name.

He took one last deep breath, closed his eyes, and stepped through the circle.

JOHNIS LED THE CHARGE TO THE CLEARING WITH SINKING hopes of finding Billos before it was too late.

“Billos!”

He saw the stallion through the trees. And past the stallion, Billos standing at the rock.

“Billos!”

He broke from the trees and pulled up hard. Billos stood over the boulder, hand extended to one of the Books of History bound in leather. His finger pressed against it.

Blood pooled on the cover.

The boy was shaking in his boots, like a goat hit by lightning.

Silvie and Darsal slid to a stop beside Johnis, eyes glued to the scene.

“Billos!” Johnis cried.