Both suns settled near the horizon as Aden and Sammy trotted down from the sky to the Welex Unicorn Horn Ranch. Acres of snow-covered feed fields stretched out like a white ocean, the skeletal limbs of dormant trees breaking the horizon. The entire ranch slept under a bnket of winter, the cold, crisp air biting at Aden’s exposed skin like it had a personal vendetta.

  Adora stood on the mounting block, shivering despite her heavy coat, binocurs glued to the sky, her breath visible in the frigid air. She looked like she’d been standing there for ages, probably contempting the meaning of life or why her brother was such a headache. She exhaled sharply, shoulders sagging with relief the moment she spotted them, her grip on the binocurs loosening as if she’d been holding her breath for too long.

  “Aden!” Adora didn’t wait for him to dismount; she vaulted up behind him, wrapping him in a huge, backward hug. Starburner’s hilt pressed awkwardly against his back as she squeezed him tightly, nearly cutting off his circution. Great, death by sisterly affection.

  “I’m sorry for bringing up technology!” Adora sobbed into his winter coat.

  “It’s okay, sissy,” Aden reassured her, patting her hand awkwardly like she was some fragile bird. “I didn’t run off because of you. I found something. I’ll put Sammy to bed and tell everyone all about it.”

  She sniffled, nodded, and wiped her nose on her sleeve, her mind clearly occupied with something else. Whatever it was, it made her completely ignore that she had just jumped straight onto her brother without hesitation. Her other hand brushed against Alexand’s binding, the spine of the magical book. “Huh, what’s this?” She wiggled the book back and forth.

  “Later, tell Poppa I’m home.”

  “Okay,” Adora said, sliding down the unicorn like she did it for sport. She ran along the melted path to the amber ranch house, disappearing inside.

  Sammy plodded over to the barn and nosed open the door. Fresh, warm air bsted Aden in the face. Leather, hay, and unicorn mixed into a scent that said home. Sammy paused by some hay bales, waiting for Aden to slide down.

  Aden reached up to pull the saddle off but stopped short. Looped around the saddle horn were the bags, the forgotten figs still inside. It was a miracle they hadn’t been lost in all the chaos. He took them off and reached inside the “other winter figs” bag.

  Aden stared at the purple fruit for a moment, turning it in his hands before holding it out to Sammy.

  “Would you like the first taste?”

  “Mm, yes!” Sammy nodded, his tail twitching in contentment as Aden handed him the fig. “Best. Fig. Ever.”

  “Good.” Aden smiled, his first real smile since the discovery. He dropped the bags into his main bag of holding, made sure there was plenty of bran mash for Sammy, and headed for the house. Starburner’s hilt bounced awkwardly against his back with each step, throwing his bance slightly off and making him lean forward. Because of course, his luck wouldn’t allow a normal walk home.

  A wave of woody heat caressed Aden’s face as he entered through the back door of the family home. The scent of fresh-baked bread invaded his nostrils, causing his stomach to let out a very undignified growl. He pulled off his pale blue snowsuit and hung it on the peg beside the door, draping his cap over it. The pink and brown coats on either side confirmed both his sister and father were home. He picked up Starburner by the scabbard strap and slung her over his shoulder.

  Following the tantalizing scent, Aden stepped into the old kitchen, walking around the rge wooden table that made up an isnd in the center. His fingers caressed the worn carvings of galloping unicorns that his grandfather had etched so many years ago. Long were the days when he would trace them, imagining grand adventures in fields that no longer seemed quite as endless.

  On top of the table rested a loaf of bread, still warm and crisp from the oven. Aden picked up the bread knife beside it and cut himself a healthy slice before stepping into the living room.

  Speck the wolf jumped up from his bed by the fire and did a happy little dance. “Arf! Arf!”

  “Down, Speck!” Aden waved him off, expertly dodging an accidental face-licking ambush. Once the happy pooch settled, Aden took a huge bite of his bread, his mood lifting with the warm, fresh taste. “Excellent bread, Pa—”

  Adora pulled him into another hug. “I’m so gd you’re all right!”

  Aden made a noise somewhere between a grunt and a sigh. “Apparently, this is Hug Aden Day, and no one told me.”

  “Where have you been?” William Welex demanded, practically unching himself from his chair like Aden had walked in carrying a live grenade. He closed the distance in a heartbeat, hands cmping down on Aden’s shoulders like he expected to find a missing limb. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m f-f—” Aden tried to speak, but the words tangled with the lump in his throat. His mind was still stuck in the twisted nightmare of finding King Earlcein in that tree, of pulling him free, of staring into the horrified faces of Starburner and Alexand. The memories hit like a hammer to the skull, and his knees decided they’d had enough.

  William caught him, his grip tightening as he steered Aden toward his favorite chair by the fire—the one that had been his refuge after too many cold winter days. Aden colpsed into it, barely aware of the familiar cushions swallowing him whole as he let the weight of exhaustion press him down. He absently set the sword across his p like it belonged there, which, considering his life, was probably accurate.

  “Aden, what happened?” Will bent, about to kneel, but then something caught his eye. He froze, eyes narrowing like Aden had just pulled a dragon out of his coat pocket. Instead of waiting for an answer, he reached for the sword, pulling just enough from its scabbard to reveal the unmistakable markings etched into the bde. His brow furrowed, confusion flickering across his face. “This is—Starburner? What—where—?” His gaze snapped back to Aden, suspicion practically screaming from his expression.

  “I found her, Alexand, and King Earlcein in a winter fig,” Aden said, voice wobbling as he tried not to sound as exhausted as he felt. “You know, just your average ‘whoops, I found a lost king in a tree’ kind of day.”

  “King Earlcein...” William slid the sword back in her scabbard like it might explode. “You actually found him.” He ran a hand through his hair, looking like he needed a week-long nap. “We must alert the pace.”

  “I can send a mobimail to the pace,” Adora offered.

  “It might be beled as spam,” William muttered, rubbing his temples. “Unicorn Express would be better. Would make it seem more official.”

  “But how can we afford that?” Aden asked, arms crossing. “We barely got enough to make it through the winter, and now you want to splurge on express shipping for a king-in-a-tree situation?”

  “Uncle David might be able to help out,” Adora said, holding up a hand, her voice casual like she wasn’t suggesting the equivalent of calling in the family’s semi-responsible disaster handler.

  “Why not contact the Wizard’s Guild?” Starburner suggested. “They can get a message to the king much faster.”

  Adora gasped so hard she might as well have inhaled her own soul. Aden’s lips pressed into a thin line, and he stared into the fire as if it held all the answers to life’s worst mistakes. William sucked in a breath, his face somewhere between ‘mild panic’ and ‘my entire life just fshed before my eyes.’ Speck’s ears fttened, his tail drooping like he suddenly regretted every decision that led him to this moment.

  “Was it something I said?” Starburner’s voice dripped with genuine confusion.

  “Uh-huh,” Aden croaked, swallowing around the weight in his throat. “The guild was bombed twelve years ago during the tournament.”

  “What?!” Starburner toppled from her perch on the chair, crashing to the floor with all the grace of a knocked-over bookshelf.

  The book on the table gave an impressive full-body shudder before unching itself into the air and smming open in front of Aden. “You must be joking!” it printed in obnoxiously rge letters, like it was yelling at him in literary form. Aden shook his head, and as if on cue, the same male elf that had materialized when he brought them back to life flickered onto the page, his expression somewhere between horrified and ‘I need a drink.’ His head rocked back and forth. “Oh my god.”

  Starburner rose back in the air, looking as if someone had just told her the sky was, in fact, green. “Who on Alpha’s green Xade would do such a thing?”

  “The evil king,” Adora whispered, sinking into the other chair by the fire like the weight of history had just personally drop-kicked her. She cleared her throat, shifting uncomfortably. “That’s what everyone says. He tried to break through the Amelia Barrier.” She studied her hands like they had suddenly become the most interesting things in the world. “But it didn’t work.”

  The book pressed his hands to his head like a parent who just found out their toddler drew all over the walls in permanent ink. “All those people! What was he thinking?”

  Aden, who had zero good answers for that, stared into the fire. The fmes flickered, crackling softly as if they, too, were appalled by the sheer stupidity of it all. He stood, grabbing a new log and tossing it onto the fire with a little more force than necessary. Fmes leapt up, the heat spreading through the room, but it didn’t chase away the chill knotting in his gut.

  “Well—” Starburner’s voice hitched like she was about to suggest something absolutely ridiculous. “Unicorn Express would be our only option.”

  Adora whipped out her mobicom with the speed of someone about to order takeout. “I’ll call Uncle David.”

  Aden gnced up at her and then back at the fire, the flickering light casting shifting shadows over the wall. Above the mantel, the usual lineup of family portraits stared down at him, judgmental as ever. His grandfather, Jasper, grinned in a snapshot taken mere days before his ill-fated performance.

  The only reason his dad and uncle hadn’t been with him? Because they had committed the grave sin of giving his favorite unicorn an impromptu buzz cut. That’s right—the great, untouchable Jasper Welex had been taken down by a bad haircut prank. The irony tasted like ash in Aden’s mouth.

  He would have given anything to meet him. To hear his voice. To tell him that, yes, his grandkids were absolute menaces, but also, that one of them had just dragged a literal lost king out of a tree.

  Aden’s hand trembled as his pulse pounded in his ears. Of all the people who had to bear the weight of magic, of expectations, of history—why him?

  “Do you think you can—Aaah!” Adora yanked the mobicom away from her ear as it screeched loud enough to make banshees jealous. Sparks burst from the device, and with a final, pitiful sputter, it melted in her hands like a cheap candle.

  Speck, now human, moved with machine-like precision, snatching the fire extinguisher off the wall in one fluid motion. With a resigned sigh, he aimed and doused the smoking remains in a thick coat of white foam. “You should know better than to use those around Aden,” he said, voice as smooth as the action itself.

  “Oh!” Starburner gasped. “You’re a werewolf.”

  “Yeah,” Speck replied, shaking the extinguisher as if this was just another Tuesday. “Nice to meet you.”

  Adora stared at the sad remains of her device as Aden’s cheeks heated. “I—I forgot.” She crossed the room where the ndcom hung on the wall. “Don’t worry about it, Aden. I got a few more of them. I’ll find one you can be around yet.”

  “Be around?” Starburner asked as the soft tic-tic of the ndcom’s dial sounded. “Why can’t you be around a mobicom?”

  “I have a techno-allergy,” Aden said, dragging a hand down his face. “Which is a fancy way of saying I exist, and technology immediately files for divorce.” He traced a faded daisy pattern on the arm of his chair, trying not to think too hard about how ridiculous that sounded. “I can’t be around advanced tech without it crashing or exploding.”

  To demonstrate, he went over and picked up the melted, still-smoking remains of the mobicom. “This one actually sted a while around me. Sis bought a bunch to see if she could crack the ‘Why Does My Brother Short-Circuit the Universe’ mystery.”

  “Alexand asks if these mobicoms store electricity,” Starburner said, floating just a little too close for comfort.

  Aden pried apart the yers of pstic to reveal the fried, mangled battery. “Yes, it does. Well, did. Now it’s just a sad, expensive paperweight.”

  “No technology at all works around you?” Starburner hovered even closer, her curiosity dial cranked to eleven.

  “Mechanical stuff does.” Aden sighed, dropping the mobicom into the trash can with the grace of a man tossing his dreams of normalcy into the abyss. “Like a dial ndcom. Anything fancier than that? Boom.”

  “When did it happen?”

  “My fourteenth birthday.” Aden frowned, his fingers tapping against the chair’s arm as he thought back. “Two-ten in the afternoon. My datapad exploded, my mobicom followed, and I suddenly became public enemy number one to every piece of tech in existence.”

  “Wizard magic shows itself at exactly fourteen years old,” Starburner mused, like she had just connected some cosmic dots.

  Silence.

  Even Adora, mid-gab on the ndcom, stopped. She whipped around to stare at the sword like it had just decred Aden the new king of Spectra. William put a hand over his chest, his face turning the shade of old parchment. Aden just sat there, staring at the fire, his chest tightening as realization sank in like a lead weight.

  The embers snapped and popped beside him, oblivious to the absolute meltdown happening inside his head.

  Aden swallowed hard, his pulse hammering in his ears. Wizard magic. Just like his mother. The fire crackled beside him, casting flickering shadows along the wall. His hands clenched into fists as realization settled deep in his bones. There was no running from this.

  “Ask David to come over, dear,” William said softly to Adora. He turned to Aden. “I suspected that you might become a wizard. Your mother was one—” Aden opened his mouth to retort, but William held up his hand. “—and so was my father and mother. Sometimes it skips a generation.”

  Aden’s vision darkened as everything seemed to spin around him until all he saw was a velvety cloud surrounding the sword. Wizard magic, just like his mother. The mother who died protecting Spectra from Thour’s invading force.

  Video re-enactments showed Amelia standing alone and unafraid, casting the spell that killed her and created the barrier. Always defiant until the end, the perfect image of a fearless protector. But Aden knew better. Knew the way her hands had probably trembled, knew how her voice must have cracked when she said goodbye. Uncle David had told him—she had been terrified. Terrified of the spell, of the invaders, of leaving her children behind. But she cast it anyway.

  For her family. For other families. For the future. Because someone had to.

  And now, apparently, that someone was him.

  The room tilted. His breath hitched. His stomach twisted, and the st thing he felt was the world spinning sideways as darkness swallowed him whole.

  Zanden