We sat by the lake and talked about everything. She told me about what it was like living in New York with her poppa and the times he’d take her into the country to watch the stars.

“What about your dad?” I asked, because in all honesty, I was curious.

“He left when I was two,” she says. “Mom says he was on drugs. It’s probably good he didn’t stick around. After, we moved in with Poppa.”

I told her about what it was like growing up in this small town.

“My dad knows everyone,” I said.

“He can’t know everyone.”

“You wanna bet? I can’t do anything without it getting back to him. Right after I got my Jeep, Jacobi and I skipped school to go backroading. Dad found out, and I got grounded.”

Sitting there beneath the willow trees, I never felt so…normal, and it was intoxicating.

As I come downstairs for breakfast, the television blares, interrupting my thoughts. It puts me on edge. This isn’t like Mom. She despises technology, especially around mealtimes.

“Mom!” I call, reaching for the remote, about to turn the TV off, when I see what’s being reported: the deaths of at least seventy-four people in a London apartment block set ablaze in the early hours of the morning. An anchor describes the horrific scene as trapped residents screamed from inside the building while the fire raged. The number of fatalities cannot be confirmed due to the scale of the building, but the death toll is expected to be high. There is no word on what caused the fire, but foul play isn’t being ruled out.

“It’s getting worse,” Mom says from behind me. The segment on the fire feeds into a report on the unusual number of earthquakes we’ve experienced in the last year and an update on the mental health of the pilot who took down the plane in Switzerland.

Influence, again.

“It’s getting stronger,” I say.

And nothing—no one—is off-limits, as evidenced by the range of conflict it controls: Gage and Sean, the weather, the fire, the plane crash, and that’s just the beginning. Influence knows no boundaries. It will stop at nothing to ensure complete chaos, utter darkness, a world where it consumes, feeding off the dead. Last night, I finally discovered our only hope for destroying it—the Eurydice.

Anora Silby.

She is flesh and blood and human and something other.

She used the Thread of Fate like it was an extension of her emotions, lashing out at the cercatore in anger, taking revenge. She was beautiful and strong, and I find I feel just as terrified as I do hopeful.

What if she doesn’t choose our side?

What if she gives in to grief and, subsequently, Influence?