"Elara?"

My aunt's voice weaves its way into my limited consciousness. "Go away," I mumble.

"Elara, I know you're upset. . ."

"Just leave me alone. Please."

"Okay."

Right after the strains of her footsteps leaving, I hear something else. Something forbidding.

"Elara Jones?" says a voice. Strong and harsh. I blink, and see a man standing over me. I'm curled up in a ball, joints stiff from sleeping. Slowly, I straighten up. And look at him in the eye.

"You are the lost cause Elara Jones?" he asks.

Lost cause. The words feel like poison. I swallow and say, "Yes."

"Come with me."

"Go with you—where?"

"To the place for lost causes."

"But—but my aunt, she. . ."

"We sent her a note. Now get moving."

"My—my things?"

"Already there." He's starting to sound impatient. "Now MOVE."

Bile rises in my throat. They've been preparing for so long, just for me to join them. Whoever they were.

He clicks his fingers and sparks fly out of them. Oh, goody. This guy has magic. I try not to betray the fear in my face.

"This might hurt."

He advances on me and I gasp as heat whizzes up my shoulder.