The sentry shrank back and Tamani strode forward, his chin held high. “Sentries, my . . .” His voice faltered ever so slightly. “My first twelve to the front.” Those words were Shar’s words, the beginning of a ritual that would transform a gnarled old tree into a shining golden gate. Words Laurel had heard often enough to know their significance.

Eleven sentries joined the one that had stopped their progress, and Chelsea gasped softly as they formed a semicircle in front of the tree. They were quite a sight; all wore armour that had been meticulously camouflaged, and most carried dark-shafted spears with diamond tips. Several had hair tinged green at the roots, as Tamani and Shar used to wear. Out of their element, they would probably look quaint – perhaps even silly. But here in the forest, Laurel found it impossible to think of them as anything but mighty guardians.

As each sentry approached to place one hand on the twisted old tree, Laurel realised her friends were seeing it for the first time, and remembered her own first time witnessing the transformation. How different things were now. Then, Tamani had been shot and Shar had summoned Jamison to save his friend’s life. Now, Shar was dead, and Tamani was trying to save . . . everyone.

The familiar low, melodic hum filled the forest as the tree shook, the light of the clearing gathering around its misshapen branches, giving it an ethereal glow. The tree appeared to split in two, moulding itself into some semblance of an archway. Then came the final flash, so bright the clearing seemed to burn, and they were standing in front of the beautiful golden portal that barred the gateway to Avalon.

Laurel sneaked a glance over her shoulder. Chelsea seemed ready to explode with glee. David just stood there, his mouth slightly agape.

“Now I need to contact—”

Tamani stopped, looking puzzled. The blackness behind the bars of the gate began to resolve into shapes, and soon Laurel saw an old, withered hand curl around the bars, slowly pulling the gate open. Jamison stood there, his face lined with concern. Laurel wasn’t sure she had ever seen such a welcome sight. It was all she could do not to leap forward and throw her arms around him.

But why was he already at the gate?

“Laurel, Tam!” He beckoned. “Please, come closer.”

The sentries closed ranks behind them as Laurel, Tamani, David, and Chelsea all approached the gate. Jamison did not move from his spot in the middle of the gateway – was he going to turn them away?

“I received a most distressing message from the Manor,” said Jamison. “Is it true that Shar has left us?”

Tamani nodded silently.

“I’m very sorry,” Jamison intoned, laying a hand on Tamani’s arm. “It is a devastating loss.”

“He died to protect Avalon,” Tamani replied, only the barest hint of mourning in his tone.

“From him, I would expect no less,” Jamison said, straightening, “but the Manor only passed along a message sent by Aaron, who gave no details except to say that I should meet you here. I appreciate his discretion; we don’t want to throw anyone into a panic. But now it falls to you to fill in the details so we can make sure our good captain’s sacrifice was not in vain.”

“The Wildling,” Tamani began. “She’s a Winter faerie raised by Klea.” Jamison’s eyes widened as Tamani continued. “She was sent to pull the location of the gate from Laurel’s head – which she was able to do last week.”

Guilt surged through Laurel as she watched concern deepen the lines on Jamison’s face.

“It’s not her fault,” Tamani added. “We discovered Yuki’s caste too late to prevent it.”

“No, of course,” Jamison said, smiling sadly at Laurel. “Not your fault at all.”

“As we suspected, Klea is the Autumn faerie who poisoned Laurel’s father.” He hesitated. “She is also the exile Callista.”

“Callista,” Jamison said, surprise on his face, then a look of regret. “That is a name I had not imagined I would hear again in this life.”

“I’m afraid that’s not the worst of it.”

Jamison shook his head, looking decidedly weary.

“Klea – Callista – has been creating serums that make trolls immune to Autumn magic. That’s why we’ve had so much trouble tracking and fighting them. She apparently has an army of these trolls and” – he took a deep breath – “they will be here soon. Likely within the hour.”

For a long moment, Jamison did not respond – he seemed scarcely even to breathe. Laurel wished he would say something, anything. Then his expression changed and he looked at Laurel with a strange light glowing in his eyes.

“Who are your friends?” Jamison asked abruptly, taking a small step forwards. “Please, introduce me.”

“David and Chelsea,” Laurel said, confused, “this is Jamison.”

Chelsea and David each offered their hands – Chelsea, breathlessly – and Jamison held onto David’s for several seconds. “David,” Jamison said pensively. “That is the name of a great king in human mythology, is it not?”

“Um, yes . . . sir,” David said.

“Interesting. A Winter faerie, immune trolls, and possibly the most talented Autumn faerie in Avalon’s history are arrayed against us,” Jamison said, his voice scarcely above a whisper. “Not in more than a millennium has Avalon been so threatened. And here are two humans who have already proven their loyalty.” He glanced over his shoulder, off into Avalon. “Perhaps it is destined.”