A marker for each of the alban trees glimmered gold, scattered across the country like fallen stars.
“The Order’s most important task is to keep Alderland safe,” Glynn said. “Yet Winter worsens every year.”
The map changed as he spoke. Color leached from the country’s northernmost tip, leaving an entire region of alban trees grayed out.
Ellery’s gaze fixed on one of the cities within the region, labeledNORDMERE.A shiver crept down her spine.
Six years ago, Winter had conquered the North, now known as the fallen territory. Within it, the long Summer most of Alderland enjoyed was gone. Instead the land was plagued with endless Winter unlike any endured in centuries—since the single cataclysm a Chosen One had failed to thwart, known as the Thirty Years’ Chill. The only people who remained in the fallen territory were too stubborn to leave, clinging to a homeland that no longer existed.
“There are rumors that winterghasts are evolving,” Glynn went on. “A select few seem to be capable of executing coordinated attacks.”
Ellery stiffened, disturbed. “I thought winterghasts were mindless monsters.”
“Not anymore. And we fear that ghast in Gallamere may be just the beginning of their larger strategy.” He flicked Aetherium, and the map zoomed in on Gallamere. There was a gap at the city’s edge that she’d never noticed before. It wasn’t gold or grayed out. It was white. Blank.
“What is that?” she asked.
“There is a second alban tree within the Gallamere city limits.”
“Why don’t I know about it?”
“Because for generations, the Council has kept it a secret. The tree is dead.”
“There’s fallen territoryinside Gallamere?”
“No, not fallen. Destroyed. The alban has been sapped of life, and the land around it is a grave. We call it the Barren because nothing grows there, and even our finest nature magicians can’t heal it. Even Valmordion’s past wielders failed to restore it.”
“B-but there’s nothing stronger than Valmordion.”
“Not even Valmordion can bring back the dead, I’m afraid.” Glynn flicked his wand, and the map rolled up again, revealing the Gallamere skyline once more. “But the trees in the fallen territoriesaren’tdead. Not yet, anyway. And as long as they endure, we believe Valmordion’s next wielder can find a way to bring them back to Summer. To make Alderland whole again.”
All at once, Ellery understood.
“You really think it could be me, don’t you?” Her voice quavered. “Th-the Chosen One.”
“I do,” he said solemnly. “I know you don’t like to speak of destiny. But now that Valmordion has thawed, even you must admit that if anyone is meant to wield it, it would be the very student who’s already lauded as one of the heroes of Nordmere.”
“I…” Ellery didn’t know how to finish. She didn’t know what she believed.
“The way I see it, if you’re not meant for Valmordion, it won’t Choose you. But if you are, running from your destiny will only draw out this war. So tell me, Ellery. What willyouchoose?”
VIIDOMENICSUMMER
Five years ago, the tragedy of Hanna Mayes and Domenic Barrow unfolded like this.
Flushing, the pair of them scooped up their books and trudged to where they’d been banished to the back of the classroom. The other students snickered as they slumped into their seats.
“What areyoupouting about?” Hanna hissed at Domenic. “This is your fault for talking too much.”
“You were talking back!”
“Because otherwise you never shut up. Not all of us have a rich family as our plan B, you know.”
He scoffed—Hanna was fighting dirty. “What doyouneed a plan B for? You’re the top of our class.”
“Yeah, well, we’ve only been at the academy for two months.” Yet as she ignored him to resume her diligent notetaking, her frown warred with a smile.
For several minutes, Domenic too tried very hard to focus on the lesson—or at least on the rude doodle of their teacher he scribbled vindictively. But even as his fury faded, his eagerness still blazed white hot. Their promised guest would soon arrive.
