Under normal circumstances, we could stay here for hours. Play games. Get into fandom arguments. Eat endless cookies. No one thought to bring the bag from the living room, though, and honestly I’m not sure I’ll ever be hungry again. I’m too restless to be hungry.
This isn’t normal.
And we can’t stay here. “Let’s go home.”
As I get up, I nearly lose my balance, unused to moving with only one side. Finn clambers to his feet. He reaches out for me and pulls me close. I rest my head against his shoulder.
“Can I lean on you?” I ask.
“Always.”
He takes one of his crutches and hooks it on the leather straps that Liva once carefully fashioned across his back. The straps make the crutch look like a badass sword and Finn like a rogue knight. While Maddy brushes the dirt from her clothes, Finn wraps his arm around mine. “One step in front of the other.”
His hand brushes mine and I hold on to it. I plan to never let go.
The sun rises to a new day, and you leave Yester Tower behind. You leave the mountain behind. Your quest isn’t done. In many ways, it’s just starting. You don’t have all the answers yet and you have a hundred more questions. You don’t know what you’ll face when you get home.
But the three of you are still here to face it.
You are relieved and mourning. You are alive, against the odds. You didn’t expect to be here—none of you, none of us. But, you are. As the sun rises, Gonfalon glows in hues of deepest, bloodiest reds and orange. The early morning rays draw the night’s chill from the air. The lantern lights blink out of existence and make way for daylight.
And you can’t help but wonder if survival is a skill, or if it’s nothing more than luck of the dice. Maybe you’re an inquisitor, maybe you’re an adventurer, because in being someone else, you can better learn to be yourself.
Maybe it’s never been about winning, maybe it’s about failing and getting up again.
Maybe survival is living on.
The dark shadows of the mountains behind you dissipate. You hear the song of birds and the buzz of cicadas.
And then you walk out from under the tree cover, and the sun’s rays catch you. It’s warm already and tender, like a cloak of woven starlight. You stand silent. You hold one another’s hands and you listen to one another’s breathing.
And you take the next step.
Acknowledgments
When I was Maddy’s age, I read every book on body language I could get my hands on. Human interaction didn’t always make sense to me, and I hoped studying all those nonverbal aspects of communication would help me better understand people. Spoiler: it did and it didn’t, because as it turns out, humans are complicated beings, and neurotypical humans in particular just…don’t always make sense.
But (semi)understanding body language did give me a sense of security when social interactions around me were overwhelming and chaotic and I was still figuring out how and who to be.
I never saw something like it in books. I very rarely saw realistic neurodivergent characters in books. Being able to include that weird quirk of mine in a book with an autistic main character now would not have been possible without the tireless work of so many autistic writers reclaiming our narratives. To them—thank you.
And because figuring out how and who to be takes a lifetime: to my fellow trans and nonbinary writers who put pieces of themselves in books—thank you.
My spectacular agent, Jennifer Udden, is one of the cornerstones of my career. Thank you for being an advocate, a voice of reason, but especially for taking my ridiculous ideas and running with them, instead of running away screaming.
I had the good fortune to work with two editors on this book. Annette Pollert-Morgan, who encouraged me to write it, and Eliza Swift, who took it on, fell in love, and made me make it so much better (and probably changed the way I write books in the process). Thank you both.
Thank you to everyone at Sourcebooks for continuing to make my dreams come true: Dominique Raccah, Barb Briel, Todd Stocke, Steve Geck, Annie Berger, Sarah Kasman, Cassie Gutman, Christa Desir, Bret Kehoe, Nicole Hower, Kelly Lawler, Sarah Cardillo, Danielle McNaughton, Deve McLemore, Heather Moore, Valerie Pierce, Beth Oleniczak, Chris Bauerle, Chuck Deane, Sean Murray, Tim Golden, Bill Preston, Margaret Coffee, Sierra Stovall, Jennifer Sterkowitz, Kacie Blackburn, Tina Wilson, Christy Droege. You’re all absolutely wonderful, and I am so lucky.
Thank you to my publishers around the world. I can’t believe how much my books get to travel, and I spend way too much time petting my foreign editions. I’m infinitely grateful.
To my earlier readers, who told me what worked and especially what didn’t. In particular, to those of you who untangled my many mistakes with endless patience and grace, thank you.
Writing would be a lonely business without a community, and I am so grateful for mine, both online and off-line. For endless chats, rants, generous criticism, cups of coffee/tea/other, cons, castles. Thank you.
Thank you to all my friends with whom I had the joy of sharing a gaming table, across countless systems and many years (and even the occasional Satanic Panic). I know I’ve said this before, but I would not be the writer I am today without you, and I certainly would not be the person I am today without you.
Thank you to my readers. To you, reading this right now. Chase your dreams. You never know where it’ll lead you.
And to my Council of Wyrms, my found family, and my family. Thank you, always.
About the Author
Marieke Nijkamp is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of This Is Where
