The mysterious Scrys are all clad in the same black, dour clothing that June sports. A man with a neat white beard and a gnarled, wrinkled face—presumably their leader—steps forward from the huddle of shadows to greet Talia with a bow.

Talia freezes, thrown by the reverent gesture.

“Welcome home, Keeper,” the Scrys delegate says. His voice is a deep rasp that reminds Talia acutely of Polo. “We have been awaiting your return for quite some time.”

Somehow, Talia gets the impression that “quite some time” is an understatement.

She struggles to figure out what to say. That they’re mistaken? That she doesn’t belong in this world and she needs to get back to her own? If this world is even real? Although each passing second tells her this is not just an extended version of her usual nightmares.

“I don’t understand,” she settles on, hating the admission—this sign of weakness. So many questions bubble up inside her, but one rises to the top as Talia remembers the message.

“Where’s Polo?”

In her periphery, she sees June’s shoulders tense. A shocked murmur runs through the delegation gathered in front of her, though Talia cannot make out what they’re saying to each other. The leader regains his composure first with a pointed cough, quieting the others, then pulls open the flap to the hut and beckons Talia forward.

“Perhaps,” he says in his low rumble, “we should speak inside.”

The delegation of Scrys part like a channel forming in a black sea. Talia is tempted to run again, but then remembers the flame that June conjured out of thin air. She probably wouldn’t make it more than fifty paces.

And she needs answers.

She throws her head back—a defiant, confident jut to her jaw—and stalks back into the hut.

The healers rise from their seats around the fire, regarding her with wide, stunned eyes like they’re witnessing an apparition. It’s an expression that Talia’s already come to hate.

Only the Scrys leader and June follow her inside, which she’s grateful for.

His piercing, hawk-like gaze moves to the healers, who cower under the weight of it like mice. “You are certain this is the Keeper?” he demands.

“Yes, your Grace,” the healer who tried to restrain Talia says.

Talia opens her mouth to interject, but June speaks over her.

“She’s displayed elemental powers twice. And she has the amulet.” He gestures to Talia’s neck.

Talia covers the amulet with her palm as the Scrys leader turns back to her.

“May I see this amulet?” he asks, holding out a hand.

“Why?” Talia asks, backing up a step.

“It is a powerful magical artifact,” the Scrys leader explains. “I need to make sure that it is genuine.”

Talia frowns, but once again it seems like she has no choice. She can feel June at her back, blocking the exit and watching her—assessing just like Polo always used to do. Polo, who instilled in her the value of learning. She needs answers, intel, and the only way to get them seems to be to play along.

Reluctantly, she removes the amulet from around her neck and hands it to the Scrys. He turns it over in his weathered palm, humming faintly to himself.

“It seems to be real,” he notes after a moment. “How did you get this?”

“It was a gift,” Talia hedges. She can feel June’s gaze boring into the back of her head. “From someone back home.”

“And where is home?”

Talia frowns. “Earth?”

The Scrys leader stares at her without recognition. “And how did you arrive here? What is the last thing you remember?”

“I was in a street,” Talia says, reaching back to her scattered memories. “There was a car coming towards me. Then a flash of light and I ended up here.”

“A car?” the Scrys leader repeats.

“What is that?” June adds.

No way.

“Uh … a mechanical vehicle?” Talia tries to elaborate. The Scry frowns, brow furrowed in confusion. “A mode of transportation.”

“Fascinating.” He shakes his head.

“Did anyone … arrive with me?” Talia asks. Something, a niggling voice in the back of her head, is telling her not to mention Polo by name. But she has to know. “I was with someone, back on Earth.”

“No,” June says. “You were alone.”

“If Polo did come over with you, she has not been found.” The Scrys leader says and Talia fights to keep her expression blank, both at the mention of Polo’s name and the almost smug expression on the Scrys’ face at cutting through her attempts at secrecy.

“This amulet is capable of sending messages,” he says at last, back to peering at her. “Have you received anything?”

From Polo goes unspoken.

“No,” Talia lies and notices June uncross his arms in her periphery. She rushes to keep speaking before he can. “If you haven’t found Polo, then she’s probably dead. She was in the path of the car—right next to me. And if she’s not here, if she didn’t get transported away…there’s no way she could’ve survived.”

June stiffens behind her, but she doesn’t turn her head to check his expression. If he’s upset at the news of his mother’s likely death, he doesn’t show it. Meanwhile, the Scrys leader narrows his eyes at her, trying to sense a lie. Talia meets him head on, keeping her posture stiff and confident. The important part of lying is believing it yourself.

(That’s not something Polo taught her.)

“I see,” the Scrys leader says after a moment, clipped. He hands the amulet back to Talia and she quickly returns it to its place around her neck.

The Scrys leader turns his attention to June and says, “Gather the others outside.”

Talia watches June nod, dipping his upper body forward in a short bow before he sweeps out of the hut with a swirl of his black robes.

“What’s going on?” Talia asks the Scrys leader.

He tucks his hands into the billowing sleeves of his own robe. “We would like a demonstration of your elemental powers, Keeper.”

Oh.

Great.