The first breath of air Marcus takes in another realm feels like lightning. Human lungs aren’t built for this world, for Byrn. He doesn’t know how long he has before they give up and he needs to stagger back through the shining doorway to Haven.

But every new Innkeeper is duty-bound to visit all the remaining worlds, if only once—that’s what his great-grandmother, Annabelle, who ran the Inn at Havenfall for almost a century, told him before she died. So Marcus doesn’t flinch, not with twenty nobles of Byrn lined up in a semicircle around the portal, waiting with scaled cheekbones glittering in the orange light. All of them are gathered, curious to hear the new portal-keeper speak. Behind them, clusters of metallic buildings shimmer against a sky the color of flame.

Havenfall is all celebration, all pomp and ritual and freely flowing spirits, in stark contrast to this intense formality. Now is Marcus’s time. The book he brought with him is heavy in his hands.

He will only read one page. There is more to the peace treaty that he won’t have time to recite: the names of the delegates who died at the inn when the Solarians rioted; the decree to forever seal the gateway to Solaria with old magic; Havenfall’s promise to hunt down all of those who escaped. A reminder to Haven, Fiordenkill, and Byrn that even after nearly a hundred years, rogue Solarians still roam their realms.

Some still blame humans, blame Haven, for the bloodshed. Marcus knows that. It’s now his responsibility, as the portal-keeper, to keep everyone safe. Not just the Byrnisians and Fiordens, but his beloved Graylin; Marcus’s sister, Sylvia; and her children—who will one day inherit the Inn at Havenfall and all that comes with it.

He must remind everyone of their promises to one another. So he lifts the book, the only time this leather-bound volume has ever left the inn’s library, and begins to read aloud from its old, crumbling pages—to tell the waiting crowd that Havenfall remembers.