“In theory.” Liam snatched two sheets of Pitr’s notes and held them facing each other, about an inch apart. “Imagine these are two universes. Maybe similar, maybe not. There are infinite universes, but these can be any two.”

Pitr stared at the papers, that familiar hunger burning in his gaze. But this time it wasn’t Liam Pitr craved. It was that thing Pitr loved far more: knowledge. Mastery. An academic accomplishment that would put the other medievalists to shame. Maybe, if Liam could be the one to give him a solution, Pitr might love him, too.

“They still follow the same scientific laws. Energy cannot be created or destroyed. And yet we see it happening all the same. Mass and energy slipping away where everything says it should exist. Then surging forward from someplace new.”

“So you think it’s moving between the two universes?”

Liam nodded. “If two universes are close enough, then yes.”

“A wrinkle,” Pitr said. “Purgatorio.”

Liam set the papers down, one on top of the other, then folded their edges so they stuck together. He tugged one sheet up, and it lifted the other by the joined corner.

“If we can link them,” Liam said, “then we can observe the other universe. Control the energy’s flow. Harness it as a fuel source, even.”

“I don’t suppose you have any idea how to create such a link,” Pitr said.

Liam dropped the paper and they fluttered apart. “It’s all just a theory.”

But Pitr started digging through his stack of books. “Maybe not.”

“So every time you pull this—dark matter—from the adjacent universe, you are stealing it from there?” Rebeka had asked, eyebrows raised.

Liam had just demonstrated it for her: the frequency that let him reach through the veil, bridging the gap. He’d pulled the shadows into himself and turned them into strange shapes that twisted and writhed around the barn.

“I prefer to think of it as borrowing.”

“I’m sure you do.” Rebeka had wrapped her arms around herself and shrank into the corner of the barn. Daniel, though, had that glint in his eyes—the one that so perfectly mirrored what Liam felt inside. Potential. Something waiting to be cracked open like an egg. A hunger that couldn’t be sated by this world alone.

If Liam could harness all of it, he’d never be too weak again. Maybe Daniel was thinking the same thing.

“And what you want from Siegen . . .” Rebeka prompted.

“A manuscript by Tomasi Sicarelli.” Liam’s voice went hollow. “It’s supposed to describe how he stabilized a bridge between two worlds for a brief period in the 1400s. If I can stabilize it again, then I can harness an unlimited amount of energy, and not just what I can draw into myself.”

“How do you mean?”