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“No,” Amira said. “The duskwyrms are stunning but sly. It is no wonder you fell for their tricks.”

Willow stiffened.

“Duskwyrms are not fragile, though they may pretend to be,” Amira continued. “Perhaps it was a ruse. A glamour of sorts.”

“I don’t think so,” Willow replied. She recalled the duskwyrm’s naked plea and shook her head. “No, I’m sure it wasn’t.”

“You, who know nothing of duskwyrms, presume to have a greater knowledge of them than me?” Amira said sharply.

Willow drew back.

Amira calmed herself. Dropped her irritation. Smiled and tilted her head. “Our difference in opinion is not important. What matters is this: To see a duskwyrm is rare. To see multiple wyrms is even rarer. For one to actually approach you? It can mean but one thing. You, Willow, are ready.”

Hope swelled in Willow’s chest. “I am? For what?”

“To see the Box. You want that, yes?”

“Yes. Yes!” Willow felt lightheaded. “More than anything!”

“Of course, for it is your destiny,” Amira murmured. She nodded, and Willow nodded back, captivated by Amira’s glittering pupils.

“You will pass through the Box and go to Eryth,” Amira pronounced. “And there, you will do great things.”

Thrilled, Willow clasped her hands and looked up to see Cole’s reaction. “Did you hear that, Cole? Me! I’m going to do great things!”

“Sure you are,” Cole said wryly, and the spell Amira had woven wavered.

“What?” Willow said, her spirits dashed. “You don’t think so?”

“Pay him no mind,” Amira said. “He doesn’t believe in you.”

Cole glared at Amira. “Oh, I believe in Willow. It’s you I don’t believe in.”

“But I want to do great things,” Willow said plaintively.

“And you will,” Cole told her. “Just not as Amira’s puppet.”

“Willow is nobody’s puppet,” Amira said. “This decision is hers alone. But what she and I know—and what you, Cole, cannot—is that she must go.” Amira sought and claimed Willow’s attention. “It is written in the stars, Willow. You know it is.”

“How conveniently vague,” Cole said. “What ‘great things’ are we talking about, Amira? Can you be more specific, or is the one-size-fits-all hero’s journey the best you can do?”

Amira locked her eyes on Willow’s. “You will go to Eryth because... because there’s something there you need.”

“Some one ,” Willow clarified. “And he needs me just as much as I need him.”

“Yes, that’s right,” Amira said. “He’s . . . in trouble.” She searched Willow’s expression. “No, he’s . . .”

“Ill!” Willow cried out. “He’s ill, and if I don’t reach him soon, he might—” She broke off. The thought was too terrible.

“I need to save Serrin,” she said, quietly but firmly.

A brilliant smile broke across Amira’s face. “To save Serrin! Yes. Of course. You must go to Serrin—and quickly!”

Relief made Willow go boneless because Amira knew. Amira understood. Willow might not trust Amira on everything, but Amira had seen Willow’s destiny written in the stars, and it was a destiny wrapped around Serrin.

Willow’s dreams had been real all along.

Cole scoffed, the rough sound shattering the moment. “ Serrin ? Who the hell is Serrin?”

“No one you need concern yourself with,” Amira informed him.

Willow shifted uncomfortably, the air between the three of them pulled taut. She opened her mouth—to clarify, perhaps, or to soothe—but Amira guided her up and out of her chair and toward the door.

“Wait,” Willow began. She couldn’t leave now, not when answers were finally surfacing.

“Return tomorrow,” Amira proclaimed.

“Again? But that’s what you said yesterday!”

“Magic is delicate. There are rites I must observe first—preparations that require time and reverence.”

“But... the Box,” Willow said. She glanced at Cole, who clenched his jaw. The hostility he radiated toward Amira made even Willow feel intimidated.

Amira propelled them across the threshold. “Tomorrow,” she said again. She threw Cole a quick dismissive glance, then looked at Willow with raised brows. “And this time, come alone.”

Willow’s body seemed weightless as Cole guided her back along the darkening trail. Was it twilight already? How was that possible?

Then again, how was any of this possible?

Maybe all her assumptions about what was and wasn’t possible should be set free like doves, allowed to go where they wanted and land where they chose.

The silence between Willow and Cole felt strained. He despised Amira—that was clear. No doubt he was frustrated with Willow for not buying wholesale into his opinion of her. But Willow had the sneaking suspicion something else was troubling him as well. He wasn’t—

No. It was too silly. Cole wasn’t jealous of Serrin . How ridiculous that would be!

Brooxie and Ruby’s house smelled of baking cornbread, an aroma she’d grown to love. Tonight, however, it filled her with longing for other comfort-food smells. Her mother’s parmesan chicken. The crescent-shaped moon cookies Juniper made, bright and lemony and dusted with powdered sugar.

She greeted the sisters, then slipped away, murmuring something about needing to make a quick call.

At the end of the hall, next to the staircase that led to the root cellar, an old rotary phone sat on a wobbly table. Willow lifted the receiver and dialed the familiar numbers with a trembling finger.

“Hello?” Juniper said breezily.

Willow teared up instantaneously. “Juniper. Hi,” she managed. “It’s me.”

“Willow? Wait, really?” Juniper’s voice jumped high. “How are you? Where are you? Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Willow said, though the tightness in her throat made the words squeak. “How are you? And Cricket—is she okay? Have you been taking care of her?”

“Of course, but she misses you like crazy, especially at night. She prowls the house looking for you, meowing a weird, sad meow. When are you coming home?”

“I don’t know. But Junie—I have something important to tell you. It’s going to sound strange, but please, just listen.”

“Okaaay,” said Juniper. “What’s going on?”

Willow let out a strangled laugh. That was not a question that could be answered in a single phone call.

She didn’t even want to try. No, what she needed to tell Juniper had to do with the visions she’d been shown in the scrying bowl.

Not the one with Willow-on-the-telephone—in that vision, Amira had somehow been pulling the strings—but the long-ago day she’d been transported to, with Juniper in the backyard. .. and the egg...

She launched in, recounting all the details she could remember. The fireflies. The smear of egg mucus on Juniper’s chin. Juniper widening her eyes and saying, Am I magic now?

“Wait, slow down,” Juniper interrupted. “I remember all of that. Of course. But... why are you bringing it up now?”

“I don’t know,” Willow said truthfully. “But it’s important. Don’t stop, okay? Don’t stop believing in magic.”

“Okay. I’ll try. But . . .”

“What?”

“ Please don’t take this the wrong way. But Willow? You sound kind of unhinged.”

“Juniper. Junie. ” Willow forced a laugh. “I’m not unhinged, you silly goose.”

A man’s voice cut in. “Juniper, is that Willow? Hand me the phone. Hand it to me now.”

It was their father demanding the phone.

Willow panicked and slammed the receiver down.

A soft throat-clearing noise startled her. Cole stood five feet away, looking nervous and uncomfortable. He cracked his knuckles, and Willow noticed again how handsome he was, even when he was being his most serious.

“You’re determined to go back, aren’t you?” he asked.

“To Amira’s? Of course.”

“And nothing I can say will stop you?”

“Why would you want to stop me? I thought, you know, that I was your pawn or whatever. A way to uncover more about Amira.”

“Not a pawn, Willow. Never a pawn.”

He leaned against the wall and stared at the floor. He was silent for several moments. Then he lifted his head, met her gaze, and said in a low voice, “I’m going to tell you something I never told Brooxie and Ruby.”

“Okay,” Willow replied. Whatever he said, it wouldn’t change her mind about returning to Amira. But she would hear him out. She owed him that.

He moved closer, so close that she could feel the heat of his body. “When Micah was taken, a pile of sapphires was left in his place. In our backyard, at the foot of the swing set where Micah had been playing.”

Danger prickled beneath Willow’s skin.

“Later, my mother took it back. Said she’d been mistaken, and who knew if Micah had been ‘taken,’ anyway? Our house backed onto the forest. Bad things happen in the forest.”

“But if something happened to him in the forest—”

“Then where was the body?” Cole nodded to say, Yes, that’s it exactly .

“Nowhere. Gone. Micah disappeared and was never seen again. But the sapphires—I saw them in my mother’s dresser drawer.

Six perfect sapphires, each the size of a grape.

One by one, my parents sold them, but their number never diminished. ”

“An enchantment?” Willow asked.

Cole’s nostrils flared. “Hush money from the devil, plenty of which found its way into the collection plates at my parents’ church.

That’s how the new propane tank was purchased and how the roof came to be repaired.

That’s how my brothers and sisters ended up with shoes that fit and schoolbooks without any missing pages. ”

“So the church knew about the magic after all?”

Cole’s jaw tightened. “Don’t be ridiculous. Magic is evil. Magic can only be perceived by the wicked. But the church got new hymnals that year and a state-of-the-art organ. And Pastor Jim started driving around town in a real nice BMW. ‘BLESSED’ read the vanity plate.”

Willow placed a hand on Cole’s arm and felt a tremor there. Anguish for his little brother, but also a yearning. Cole longed for answers, just like Willow did.

“Amira believes in magic,” he said bitterly. “Believes in it more than she should.” He scanned Willow’s face. “She wants something from you, Willow.”

Willow nodded. “Yes. I feel it, too. But that doesn’t change anything. Serrin needs me.”

Hurt flashed across Cole’s face. “Serrin. You still haven’t told me who he is.”

“He’s... someone special,” she began carefully. “Someone noble and true and good. And he’s waiting for me. For me , Cole.”

“And he’s important enough that you’ll follow Amira blindly to reach him?”

Willow’s throat thickened. She nodded.

“Right,” he said heavily. “Then I’ll go with you.”

“You don’t have to. I don’t want a chaperone.”

“No, I imagine you don’t.” He looked at her ruefully and pushed back his too-long hair. “But you’ve got the will of a queen and the instincts of a lamb, which makes it my job to make sure you don’t get slaughtered.”