that would destroy us all. I didn’t have much time left.
Then I noticed something on the floor by the backpack I’d taken on our camping trip: a small box made of polished wood—about the size and shape of an index card. It must have fallen out when I was gathering up my finds to take downstairs. I tucked it into the band of my running shorts and slid out my window onto the roof.
A spring breeze ruffled my hair and kissed my cheeks. I couldn’t help but remember how cold and barren the fieldbelow me had been all winter. Then, I’d stared out at a bleak white sky and watched as a flock of birds took off from the treetops, the rush of hundreds of wings echoing in my ears. But now the sky was bluer, the treetops greener, and the birds were coming—not going.
I took out the box and studied it. The wood was a dark, rich hue, polished to a shine. It struck me as weird—everything else that I’d salvaged from the cabin was showing signs of age, decay. The wooden box was as polished and shiny as it might have been on the day it was made.
Strangely, the wood appeared to be all one piece—with no grooves or hinges where it might open. There was a keyhole in the front, but no actual key. I shook it and heard something lightweight flutter within.
There was a design etched into the lid—or what should have been the lid. An old-fashioned key, with an elaborate top that swooped out in four intertwining loops—like a four-leaf clover.
The whole box looked like some sort of strange puzzle. If it was left with other personal items in the cabin, then it must have belonged to my parents, or to the Rogues they were working with. It was clear that whoever it had belonged to didn’t want just anybody to discover its contents.
I put my hand on the engraving, and it glowed silver beneath my fingers. And then, before my eyes, the silver became solid, real metal—and I found myself holding a key.
Like it was meant for me.
The key fit into the lock perfectly. I held my breath as it clicked, and the top of the box slid sideways.
Resting inside was a single piece of paper folded many times into a tight square. I couldn’t stop my fingers from trembling slightly as I unfolded it to reveal a page filled from top to bottom with cramped, tight script. My heart expanded like ink in water when I saw how it began:
Dear Skye ,
I’m writing you this letter, my sweet girl, because I don’t know what else to do. We are in danger. Your father and I have made a risky mistake, and we are being watched. Followed. If I’m being truthful with you, I don’t think we’ll make it through another week.
But you will. They won’t kill you. You hold the key to breaking them, and they’ll do whatever they can to harness that power. You’re not ready for it now. I can’t put you in the position of having to save the world just yet. I can hardly let you wander off by yourself for two seconds , Skye, without worrying! But one day, your powers will grow to be stronger than any angel’s before you. And the great task—a burden, and an honor—will be asked of you. It was the thing we could never accomplish, because it wasn’t time yet. But for you—for you, it will be time.
Of course, you know none of this. I’ve made certain of that. I hope that one day, when you read this letter, you’ll understand that I kept you in the dark out of love, and protection, and for no other reason.
There will be a time when you come looking for answers. Even though I am no longer with you, I promise you, my little silver clover, that I will tell you everything you need to know.
All you have to do is ask.
Love ,
Your Mama
Only when I looked up and the colors of the world were blurred around me did I realize I was crying.
After school, everyone came over.
Cassie was, predictably, thrilled that we had found Aaron and Earth, and ecstatic that they’d come to join us after all.
“I’m telling you, Skye,” she said with a wink. “Epic love is always
Then I noticed something on the floor by the backpack I’d taken on our camping trip: a small box made of polished wood—about the size and shape of an index card. It must have fallen out when I was gathering up my finds to take downstairs. I tucked it into the band of my running shorts and slid out my window onto the roof.
A spring breeze ruffled my hair and kissed my cheeks. I couldn’t help but remember how cold and barren the fieldbelow me had been all winter. Then, I’d stared out at a bleak white sky and watched as a flock of birds took off from the treetops, the rush of hundreds of wings echoing in my ears. But now the sky was bluer, the treetops greener, and the birds were coming—not going.
I took out the box and studied it. The wood was a dark, rich hue, polished to a shine. It struck me as weird—everything else that I’d salvaged from the cabin was showing signs of age, decay. The wooden box was as polished and shiny as it might have been on the day it was made.
Strangely, the wood appeared to be all one piece—with no grooves or hinges where it might open. There was a keyhole in the front, but no actual key. I shook it and heard something lightweight flutter within.
There was a design etched into the lid—or what should have been the lid. An old-fashioned key, with an elaborate top that swooped out in four intertwining loops—like a four-leaf clover.
The whole box looked like some sort of strange puzzle. If it was left with other personal items in the cabin, then it must have belonged to my parents, or to the Rogues they were working with. It was clear that whoever it had belonged to didn’t want just anybody to discover its contents.
I put my hand on the engraving, and it glowed silver beneath my fingers. And then, before my eyes, the silver became solid, real metal—and I found myself holding a key.
Like it was meant for me.
The key fit into the lock perfectly. I held my breath as it clicked, and the top of the box slid sideways.
Resting inside was a single piece of paper folded many times into a tight square. I couldn’t stop my fingers from trembling slightly as I unfolded it to reveal a page filled from top to bottom with cramped, tight script. My heart expanded like ink in water when I saw how it began:
Dear Skye ,
I’m writing you this letter, my sweet girl, because I don’t know what else to do. We are in danger. Your father and I have made a risky mistake, and we are being watched. Followed. If I’m being truthful with you, I don’t think we’ll make it through another week.
But you will. They won’t kill you. You hold the key to breaking them, and they’ll do whatever they can to harness that power. You’re not ready for it now. I can’t put you in the position of having to save the world just yet. I can hardly let you wander off by yourself for two seconds , Skye, without worrying! But one day, your powers will grow to be stronger than any angel’s before you. And the great task—a burden, and an honor—will be asked of you. It was the thing we could never accomplish, because it wasn’t time yet. But for you—for you, it will be time.
Of course, you know none of this. I’ve made certain of that. I hope that one day, when you read this letter, you’ll understand that I kept you in the dark out of love, and protection, and for no other reason.
There will be a time when you come looking for answers. Even though I am no longer with you, I promise you, my little silver clover, that I will tell you everything you need to know.
All you have to do is ask.
Love ,
Your Mama
Only when I looked up and the colors of the world were blurred around me did I realize I was crying.
After school, everyone came over.
Cassie was, predictably, thrilled that we had found Aaron and Earth, and ecstatic that they’d come to join us after all.
“I’m telling you, Skye,” she said with a wink. “Epic love is always
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