today. It was assumed that both girls died in the fire, along with Eugenia. No one knew that as the fire raged, Mary escaped into the caves behind the school, leaving behind the diary we would eventually discover. Sarah was never found. Mary went into hiding in India, where she married John Doyle and was reborn as Virginia Doyle, my mother. Unable to enter the realms, the members of the Order scattered, looking and waiting for a time when they could claim their magical world and their power once more.
For twenty years, nothing happened. The story of the Order faded from legend to myth—until June 21, 1895, my sixteenth birthday. That is the day that the magic of the Order began to come alive again—in me. That is the day that Sarah Rees-Toome, Circe, finally came for us. She had not died in that horrible fire after all, and she had been using her corrupt bond with that dark spirit of the Winterlands to plot her revenge. One by one, she hunted down the members of the Order, looking for the daughter who was being whispered about, the girl who could enter the realms and bring back the glory and the power. That is the day that I had my first vision, when I saw my mother die, hunted by Circe’s assassin—that supernatural creature who also brutally murdered Amar of the Rakshana, a cult of men who both protect and fear the power of the Order. It was the day I first met Kartik, Amar’s younger brother, who would become my guardian and tormentor, bound to me by duty and sorrow.
It was the day that would come to shape the rest of my life. For afterward, I was sent here to Spence. My visions led me to enter the realms with my friends, where I was reunited with my mother and learned of my birthright to the Order; where my friends and I used the magic of the runes to change our lives; where I fought Circe’s assassin and smashed the Runes of the Oracle—those stones that hold magic; where my mother died at last, and our friend Pippa, also. I watched her choose to stay, watched her walk hand in hand with a handsome knight into a place of no return. Pippa, my friend.
In the realms, I learned of my fate: I am the one who must form the Order once again and continue their work. That is my obligation. But I have another, secret mission: I shall face my mother’s old friend—my foe. I shall face Sarah Rees-Toome, Circe, at last, and I shall not waver.
A steady rain lashes at the windows, making sleep impossible, though Ann is certainly snoring loudly enough. But it is not the rain that has me up, my skin prickly, my ears attuned to every small sound. It is that every time I close my eyes, I see those words on parchment:
I must see you immediately.
Is Kartik out there, now, in the rain?
A gust blows against the windows, rattling them like bones. Ann’s snoring rises and falls. It is pointless to lie here fretting. I light my bedside lamp and adjust the flame to a low flicker, just enough to find what I need. Rummaging through my wardrobe, I find it: my mother’s social diary. I run my fingers over the leather and remember her laugh, the softness of her face.
I turn my attention back to the diary I know so well and spend half an hour scouring my mother’s words for some guidance, but I find none. I haven’t the vaguest idea of how to go about reforming the Order or how to use the magic. There is no useful information on the Rakshana and what they may have planned for me. There is nothing more to tell me about Circe and how I might find her before she finds me. It feels as if the whole world is waiting for me to act, and I am lost. I wish my mother had left me more clues.
The pull of my mother’s voice, even on a page, is strong. Missing her, I stare at her words until my eyes feel heavy, pulled down by the late hour. Sleep. That is what I need. Sleep without the terror of dreams. Sleep.
My head snaps up suddenly. Was that a knock at the front door? Have they come for me? Every nerve is alive, every muscle taut. There is
For twenty years, nothing happened. The story of the Order faded from legend to myth—until June 21, 1895, my sixteenth birthday. That is the day that the magic of the Order began to come alive again—in me. That is the day that Sarah Rees-Toome, Circe, finally came for us. She had not died in that horrible fire after all, and she had been using her corrupt bond with that dark spirit of the Winterlands to plot her revenge. One by one, she hunted down the members of the Order, looking for the daughter who was being whispered about, the girl who could enter the realms and bring back the glory and the power. That is the day that I had my first vision, when I saw my mother die, hunted by Circe’s assassin—that supernatural creature who also brutally murdered Amar of the Rakshana, a cult of men who both protect and fear the power of the Order. It was the day I first met Kartik, Amar’s younger brother, who would become my guardian and tormentor, bound to me by duty and sorrow.
It was the day that would come to shape the rest of my life. For afterward, I was sent here to Spence. My visions led me to enter the realms with my friends, where I was reunited with my mother and learned of my birthright to the Order; where my friends and I used the magic of the runes to change our lives; where I fought Circe’s assassin and smashed the Runes of the Oracle—those stones that hold magic; where my mother died at last, and our friend Pippa, also. I watched her choose to stay, watched her walk hand in hand with a handsome knight into a place of no return. Pippa, my friend.
In the realms, I learned of my fate: I am the one who must form the Order once again and continue their work. That is my obligation. But I have another, secret mission: I shall face my mother’s old friend—my foe. I shall face Sarah Rees-Toome, Circe, at last, and I shall not waver.
A steady rain lashes at the windows, making sleep impossible, though Ann is certainly snoring loudly enough. But it is not the rain that has me up, my skin prickly, my ears attuned to every small sound. It is that every time I close my eyes, I see those words on parchment:
I must see you immediately.
Is Kartik out there, now, in the rain?
A gust blows against the windows, rattling them like bones. Ann’s snoring rises and falls. It is pointless to lie here fretting. I light my bedside lamp and adjust the flame to a low flicker, just enough to find what I need. Rummaging through my wardrobe, I find it: my mother’s social diary. I run my fingers over the leather and remember her laugh, the softness of her face.
I turn my attention back to the diary I know so well and spend half an hour scouring my mother’s words for some guidance, but I find none. I haven’t the vaguest idea of how to go about reforming the Order or how to use the magic. There is no useful information on the Rakshana and what they may have planned for me. There is nothing more to tell me about Circe and how I might find her before she finds me. It feels as if the whole world is waiting for me to act, and I am lost. I wish my mother had left me more clues.
The pull of my mother’s voice, even on a page, is strong. Missing her, I stare at her words until my eyes feel heavy, pulled down by the late hour. Sleep. That is what I need. Sleep without the terror of dreams. Sleep.
My head snaps up suddenly. Was that a knock at the front door? Have they come for me? Every nerve is alive, every muscle taut. There is
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