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Chapter One

ELLIE

“Not all doors open outward.”

Inscription found in Stonehaven’s oldest chamber

The puddle is deeperthan it looks. Ice-cold water floods my boots, drenching my socks in a single punishing step. I mutter a curse and walk faster, trying to beat the light before it changes.

There are two days until Christmas, and downtown Chicago is a tangle of blinking lights and short tempers. I’ve just finished my last-minute shopping and elbowed through crowds of people who forget how sidewalks work the second fairy lights go up. The city’s in full festive mode—twinkling window displays, carolers outside department stores, and that thin layer of chaos under everything.

I usually love everything about the holiday season. The lights, the noise, the magic of Christmas, but this year, none of it is working. Everything feels forced, like everyone is smiling too hard, and trying not to snap.

I just want to go home.

I want to get back to my apartment, strip off these wet clothes, crawl into my pajamas, and stay there until New Year. I have coffee, a mountain of books waiting, and a week off work.

No more crowds. No more wet socks. No more fake cheer from people who think yelling “Merry Christmas” is an acceptable substitute for basic manners.

It’s cold. It’s wet. And I’msodone with people.

I sidestep a couple with matching gift bags, and switch the weight of my shopping to one hand so I can adjust my umbrella. A shoulder slams into mine, hard enough to knock me sideways.

“Asshole.” I mutter it beneath my breath, catching myself before I stumble. The guy doesn’t stop or look back, just keeps striding forward.

The rain is getting heavier by the second, turning into icy pellets that soak through my coat and hair. My fingers are going numb, and so is my nose. I try to ignore it by thinking about what I’ll do once I’m home.

Crank up the heat, make something hot with too much sugar, and curl up on the couch with a paperback I’ve read four times already.

The light changes again, and the flow of people takes me with them onto the crossing.

I step forward …

… and the world rips apart.

Between one breath and the next, the cold air in my lungs turns blisteringly hot. I gasp, and it burns.

Light blinds me, white-hot and wrong. The sounds of the city vanish, and my foot lands on something thatisn’tthe sidewalk …

… and the world gives way beneath me.

My balance tips forward, thrown by the suddengive of the ground. It’s no longer concrete but something loose. Unstable. Almostalive.

I land hard, knees first, on something hot and shifting.

It takes a second for my vision to clear. Blue sky bleeds through the black spots swimming across my eyes. Not Chicago’s steel-gray winter sky. This one is too bright, too clear. A dome of color with no clouds, no smog, no buildings.

The storefronts are gone. Sand dunes rise and fall like waves, in every direction.

Sand?

It clings to my palms and jeans, hot against my skin, and I stare at it.

Sand.

“What the hell?” My voice comes out thin, high-pitched—too small for the space around me.

I scramble upright and spin around. Once. Then again, searching for anything familiar.