Last time my powers were broken, Sophie told her. They had to fix me before I could come back. And then you were gone.

“I had to go away,” Jolie whispered. “I don’t remember why. But I’m here again—and it’s so much brighter this time!”

She raised her arms and twirled, her featherlight skirt floating around her.

Why do you use Jolie to communicate with me? Sophie had to ask. Did she mean something to you?

“You’re still looking for reason. The mind is a funny thing. Logic doesn’t always run things the way it should. So often it’s feelings.” Jolie reached out and caught a green fractal pattern floating by, and it turned blue and swelled large enough to surround them.

“I make you feel safe, don’t I?”

Yes.

Sophie had never met Jolie, but she knew that if she had, she would’ve liked her. Everyone who knew her had loved her. Even the person who’d killed her.

“You remind me of her,” Jolie said, flipping the ends of her golden hair. “And it’s easier this way. I’ve lost such track of myself, I don’t know how to be me.”

But I am talking to Prentice right now? Sophie asked, needing to be sure.

Jolie’s smile faded. “Prentice is everywhere and nowhere. He can’t help you. Though rumor has it, you can help him.”

I can, Sophie said, her heart thundering so loud, she wondered if the whole room could hear it. But it might not be safe yet. He—or, I guess I should say you—need to get stronger.

The fractals shifted again, flickering through so many colors it felt like standing in a disco ball. Jolie’s image flickered too, her features growing vague and smudged. “It’s strange. Sometimes I feel so sane. And other times . . .”

The light shattered.

Icy splinters jabbed Sophie’s consciousness, screeching like nails on a chalkboard as she plummeted. She tried to squeeze Fitz’s hand for help, but her body felt disconnected.

No strength.

No power of her own.

Blackness crashed around her, so thick it felt tangible—and then it was tangible as the shadows twisted into—

A swan?

“Sorry,” Jolie said from somewhere behind her as Sophie struggled to get a firmer grip on the soaring bird’s slender neck.

Jolie’s arms wrapped around her waist and the touch felt warm and soft—despite the blizzard they were flying through. A storm of blurry fragments that seemed determined to send them careening again.

“I’m trying to hold it together,” Jolie told her. “Black Swans always keep me centered.”

I wasn’t supposed to talk to you, Sophie admitted. They’re afraid I’ll make you worse.

“Nothing could be worse than where I’ve been.”

I’m so sorry.

The words were never enough—but Sophie didn’t have anything else to offer.

Where are we going? she asked, trying to figure out if they were flying forward or backward or sideways.

“Somewhere. Nowhere. Everywhere. It’s all the same here. Always now but never then. Always then but never now.”

That doesn’t make a whole lot of sense.

“Welcome to my world. I’d love to say you get used to it, but . . .”

The swan started spinning loop-di-loops, tossing Sophie’s stomach around with it. She wondered if she could throw up in someone else’s head.

“You’re looking for something, aren’t you?” Jolie asked. “That’s what the voice in the shadows told me before you came.”

That was Tam. He’s a friend.

“I’m glad I didn’t drag him under, then.”

You do that?

“Sometimes. Not always by choice.”

So . . . sometimes you do it on purpose?

“If I did, would that scare you?”

A little. But I trust you.

“Does that mean you’ll come back?”

Of course I will, Sophie promised. But right now, I’m only allowed to stay for a few more minutes. Can you help me find the memory I need before I have to go?

“I can try,” Jolie said as the swan tucked its wings and plunged. “But the memories here aren’t what they used to be.”

On and on they sank, until they reached a fog of glowing shards all scrambled up and flipped around and crashing into each other. Some had images painted across them. Others moved like fragments torn from a movie. And others held only a cacophony of noises.

“Everything that once was, is gone,” Jolie said sadly. “All that’s left is fractured and fragmented.”

I’m only looking for a piece—or maybe a few pieces.

Sophie projected the image Mr. Forkle had sent her and it flared in front of them like a hologram.

“That doesn’t look familiar,” Jolie murmured.

Mr. Forkle found it the last time he was in here.

Jolie’s arms tensed. “Someone else visited?”

You don’t remember?

“I hear voices sometimes. But I can never tell if they’re echoes. I hope I didn’t hurt him.”

He was able to get out—but only barely. That’s why he sent me.

“You’re the moonlark,” Jolie whispered. Her arms clung so tightly that Sophie had to fight to breathe.

Or maybe the pain in her chest came from Jolie’s next question.

“How long has it been since I was me?”

I’m probably not supposed to tell you.

“But you’re old now, aren’t you? Far older than my son was when . . .”

Don’t think about it, Sophie said. There’s a lot that needs to be explained—but we have to wait until you’re strong enough to handle it.

“That doesn’t sound like good news.”

It is and it isn’t. There are a million reasons to keep fighting. But it’s probably not going to be easy.

The shards trembled and tightened.

“I think I’m slipping away,” Jolie warned.

A burst of energy flooded Sophie’s senses—probably Fitz sending backup—and Sophie wrapped it around Jolie’s fading form.

Please—if you can’t stay for me, do it for Wylie.

“Wylie,” Jolie repeated. She kept murmuring the name as she waved her arms and made another glowing bubble around them, spinning the shards like leaves in a windstorm. “I still don’t see what you’re looking for.”