The door was there. Mira could feel it—a shimmering membrane in the air beside her, in the corner of the bedroom where the morning light fell, invisible to anyone who did not know how to look. It had been six weeks since the bond formed. Six weeks of feeling the door's presence, of knowing that it was there, of understanding that she could cross through it if she chose to. The Veil was on the other side. Thornhaven was on the other side. Her old life, her old self, her magic—all of it was waiti...