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Tumbling through time and space—an endless abyss—and there’s no way to slow down, no way to stop my descent.

My stomach vaults into my ribs, an unheard scream lodges high in my throat, and I squeeze my eyes shut, struggling to block it all out. But that’s never worked before, and it’s not working now.

Next thing I know, a flash of memory spins through my head.

It’s just after my first Unraveling, and my dad finds me crying and shaking on the living room floor, so terrified by what I’ve experienced I’ve actually peed myself.

After helping me change, he sits me on the couch and does his best to explain the strange thing that just happened to me.

It’ll probably happen again, he assures me, which is really no reassurance at all. But don’t let it scare you. I have them occasionally, too. Still, there are rules you must follow whenever you find yourself in the middle of one. One of those rules is to stay calm and wait for the reveal. The other: you must promise to never tell your mother or anyone else about your ability to see through time.

I did as my dad asked. Never whispered a word of it to anyone. But unfortunately, Killian knows. And while he promised to keep my secret, I’m not entirely convinced that he will.

A moment later, the memory fades, and that’s when I realize I’m no longer falling.

My eyes blink open. My vision crowds with the scene unfolding before me. And what I see sucks the air right out of me.

I’m peering into an ancient, cavernous space, lit by the glow of a single torch. It’s a place of death and decay, with tombs scattered about, and in the middle of it all—

I swallow hard, struggle to keep my eyes wide, because I need a better look, I need to make sure—

No. It’s not possible. There’s no way.

And yet—

There he is. My father.

With his wavy brown hair and eyes the same green as mine, he’s standing before me, looking exactly as he did the day he walked out the front door and never returned.

And though nothing about this makes any sense, ever since I was thrust into Arthur Blackstone’s world, long-dormant memories of my dad have been rising to the surface—long-buried specters of memory refusing to be forgotten.

His obscure teachings—things that didn’t make a lick of sense at the time—have all become relevant to the things we do here—all the puzzles Arthur has tasked me to solve.

I lean closer, straining to get a better look, when, from out of nowhere, a hand grabs hold of my arm, the scene disappears, and I’m left shaking, whimpering, gaping into the space where my dad recently stood.

“Tasha?” a voice says. “You okay?”

The boots fall from my fingers, landing with a thud, as my eyes shift away from the past and back to the present, where Braxton stands beside me, a towel wrapped at his hips, an unreadable look spread across his face.

“I—” My gaze skitters away. I have no idea what to say, much less how to explain.

For one thing, Braxton doesn’t know about the Unraveling.

For another, this is the second time he’s caught me in the middle of one, and I need to play this off better than I did the last time he found me like this.

I swallow hard, try again, but the words just won’t come.

Still clutching the towel, Braxton leans down, collects the boots, and tosses them against the far wall, where they bounce off a skateboard and crash onto a bike helmet.

When he turns to face me, there’s no mistaking the rapid rise and fall of his chest or the shadow of grief that darkens his gaze. And I can’t help but wonder what it is about those boots that’s got him acting like this.

What sort of secret is he keeping from me?

All I know for sure is that what I just experienced was only partially an Unraveling. It was also partly psychometry—a term my dad used when he told me how to access the energy field infused within objects.

Not only is everything made of energy, but objects also hold energy, he’d said.And if you focus, listen very closely, and peer beyond the surface, you can read those vibratory messages hidden within.

It happened once before in Versailles, just like it happened again now. But why on earth would Braxton’s old boots have anything to do with my dad being stuck in some ancient necropolis?