Alexandra and Quimley stood in a vast subterranean cavern, with earth above and below, a realm of eternal twilight gloom that never saw the sun. Alexandra suppressed a shudder. None of her previous trips to the Lands Below had ended well.

Before them rose a cluster of strange black rock structures, with rippling, fused surfaces. Some of them were house-sized, a few were smaller than Mr. Mudd's RV, but one dominated the rest with a yawning, face-like entrance that loomed over all the others, the size of a medieval castle.

"Kind of creepy," Alexandra said. "But impressive."

"Alexandra Quick's father raised these," Quimley said.

"I figured." Alexandra walked toward the largest one, knowing without asking that that was where she'd find her father, if he was here. Quimley followed, wringing his hands.

"How are elves able to travel to worlds away?" Alexandra asked.

"Quimley does not understand why wizards speak of worlds away. These are not worlds away. They are just steps away, as Alexandra Quick steps now."

"But we can't step between them without magic. Even most wizards can't do that."

"Muggles cannot see the wizarding world. They cannot step into it. But it is there, and no further from them."

Alexandra didn't think this comparison made sense, but she didn't want to argue with Quimley. As she passed one of the smaller structures—it looked like stone that had dripped upwards and then solidified—a weary-looking man dressed in a drab black and brown suit exited from a canvas flap covering a hollowed-out entrance. He held a wand in his hand, and stopped when he saw Alexandra. He looked vaguely familiar. She had probably seen him on Eerie Island.

He stared at her and said nothing as she and Quimley continued to the largest structure. Steps that must have required enchantments to shape from the hard black stone underfoot seemed to invite them to walk into a gaping mouth. For someone who rejected the label of "Dark Lord," she thought, her father had certainly created a suitable headquarters for one.

Above, there was suddenly a great whirring and chittering sound, and from behind her, she heard cursing—not magical curses, but the earthier kind. The wizard who had emerged from his stone hut yelled, "Bats!"

Alexandra craned her neck upwards. She and Maximilian had been pursued by swarms of vicious bat-like things when they'd made the mistake of trying to fly across the Lands Below on their brooms. Now, far above, where the "sky" was a barely-visible stone roof over all the land, something dark blurred out even that. It was a swarm large enough to cover Larkin Mills. Alexandra saw flashes from wards and protective domes suddenly appearing over the rocks around her, and witches and wizards moved about near the edge of the settlement or encampment or whatever this was. The nearest bat-like creatures bounced off a magical bubble overhead, creating showers of blue sparks and high-pitched keening sounds that felt like tiny needles drilling into her ears.

"This happens often," Quimley said.

Alexandra continued inside with Quimley. "Why do they stay here?"

She paused when they entered the cavernous ground floor of the "castle." It was an artificial cavern with no furniture, and lights provided by glowing spheres attached to the ceiling. There were doorways like abscesses into smaller adjoining chambers, and two stairways carved and shaped like dark, deformed sculptures curling up into shadowy spaces above. But directly before her, she saw a legion of Doomguards. Motionless, packed together in perfect rows and columns, they stood silently with their gauntlets hanging empty at their sides. Each one had an identical sword in a sheath, undrawn.

None moved as she and Quimley crossed the chamber. Her boots and Quimley's soft-soled shoes made little sound. Quimley seemed unbothered by the ranks of motionless Doomguards, and much more nervous about ascending the black, melted-stone stairs. Alexandra stepped onto them confidently, took three steps, and was frozen in place.

She couldn't move, Apparate, or even speak. Quimley made a squeaking sound, followed by a pop.

A moment later, her father appeared at the top of the stairs, looking down at her with a grim expression. He wore his usual long dark robes and flowing black cloak.

"Quimley," he said.

Alexandra heard another pop behind her. "Yes, Abraham Thorn, sir."

Furiously, Alexandra tried to break the curse that held her, but couldn't.

"I assume Alexandra coerced you into this," Abraham Thorn said.

After a moment's hesitation, Quimley said, "Alexandra Quick did not coerce Quimley, sir."

Alexandra was grateful to Quimley, though she'd have readily copped to coercing him. But her father sighed and waved a hand, and suddenly she could move again.

"That was careless and arrogant of you," he said.

"Definitely careless," she agreed. What she thought of her father calling her arrogant, she was not going to say. "And I did talk Quimley into bringing me here. He really didn't want to."

"I know how persuasive you can be, daughter." Her father descended the steps with measured strides, looking less the doting father glad to see her and more the stern commander addressing a troublesome subordinate. "Why are you here? I expected you to wait for me with Livia."

"I know you did." She was trying to be calm, to hold back her anger and her accusations, but she could feel her indignation boiling up inside her.

"Did you speak to Lilith Grimm and explain the situation to her?"

"Yes."

"And will she cooperate?"

"With you destroying her school? No, she's not going to cooperate with you and she's sure not going to take down the anti-Apparition wards or other protections and make it easier for you. But when you come, she'll have instructed the staff not to fight, but simply get everyone out."

"That will have to do. Unfortunately, my attempts to reach out to my own alma mater were less productive. Accordingly, I expect it to be more destructive."

He looked genuinely sad, and Alexandra felt a little bit of her resentment fade. She had argued with him about destroying Charmbridge, even knowing it was futile, but she realized he must feel at least as strongly about the Blacksburg Magery Institute. He and Maximilian had both gone there.

Then the lines in his face set again. "Why did you… persuade Quimley to bring you here, Alexandra?"

"I wanted to visit your secret headquarters. And find out what the Thorn Circle is doing while not rescuing Lucilla and Drucilla, who I just learned you've known for months were captured right after the Ban kept them from leaving the country."

Her father's expression darkened. "Do you think I know where they are and have chosen not to rescue them?" His voice had that particular ominous quality that always made her choose her next words carefully. "Do you think I would have left you in Larkin Mills without protection? Do you think I do not even now watch over Livia, Julia, and even Claudia and Valeria, across the ocean?"

Alexandra took a breath. "I don't think that." She hoped she sounded sincere. "But now we know Brigitte Jumeau was telling the truth. So how are you unable to find whatever prison they're being kept in? Why hasn't the Confederation made some other offer, or threatened them, or put them on trial or something?"

"Do you really trust Brigitte Jumeau's offer?" her father asked.

"No. But why haven't we heard anything?" Alexandra hesitated. "Do we even know they're still alive?"

"Yes. I am sure the Chief Justicar did not lie about that."

"So why aren't we doing anything?" Alexandra's voice rose.

"It is difficult enough to rein in your reckless impulses, as your presence here demonstrates. The Special Inquisition would like very much to lure you into a trap trying to rescue your sisters."

"If you told me what's going on and how to know if something is a trap—"

"She isn't entirely wrong, Abraham."

This voice came from below. Two figures had reached the foot of the stairs while Alexandra and her father were arguing. Alexandra hadn't noticed them, though of course her father must have seen them the moment they entered.

Alexandra turned, and she and Quimley both gawked at Medea and the young witch following behind her. The girl was a thin-faced teenager in blue and yellow robes and dark curly hair. She seemed surprisingly quiet and incurious about her surroundings. She was about Alexandra's age, but her expression was blank and her eyes were vacant.

"Alexandra," said Medea, ascending the stairs. "I didn't think Abraham planned to bring you down here yet."

"I did not," Abraham Thorn said. "My youngest daughter took it upon herself to come. She is dissatisfied with our efforts thus far to rescue her sisters."

"Ah," Medea said. "How like her." The whole time, the girl with her remained silent and unmoving.

"Who is she?" Alexandra asked, gesturing at the other girl. "And why is she Imperiused?"

"This is Philomena Pepper," Medea said. "The granddaughter of the Governor of New England. She'll join our other prisoners of war."

"Prisoners of war," Alexandra repeated.

"Do you think the Governor-General hasn't threatened Lucilla and Drucilla already?" her father asked. "Yes, Alexandra, through his minions, and the Office of Special Inquisitions, he's made it clear that he has them in his power. He hasn't made his threats public yet because the Confederation still maintains the pretense that it is, in fact, governed by laws, and even daughters of the Enemy cannot simply be executed without a trial."

"Executed?" Alexandra exclaimed.

"But we now have enough sons and daughters of the Elect to make Hucksteen think twice," her father went on. "And to put pressure on him to release Lucilla and Drucilla."

Alexandra stared at Philomena Pepper, who did not look much like a prisoner of war to her. She looked as if she had been abducted from her home, or perhaps from school.

"So if they let Lucy and Dru go, we'll let all our prisoners go?" Alexandra asked. "And what if they don't? What if the Governor-General just…" Calls our bluff? But she knew her father wasn't bluffing.

"Then," her father said grimly, "we will have a few more obols."

Quimley cringed. Alexandra rounded on her father. "You can't! That's… that's as bad as the Confederation!"

"Hardly," said Medea. "It's less than a week's work for the Confederation."

Alexandra tried not to look at her, or her captive. She kept her eyes on her father, which was difficult, with the dreadful gaze he was giving her now. Quimley shivered at her side, and she laid a hand on the elf's shoulder, though it was hard not to tremble herself.

"Do you want your sisters saved, Alexandra?" her father asked. "Were you hoping for a bold rescue mission, as you're hoping now for a war that will leave your school and your town and innocent Muggle bystanders untouched? Well, those neat solutions are not available to us. So we fight using all the arts and artifice at our disposal. I will do whatever it takes to protect my children. If I told you right now that in order to save Lucilla and Drucilla's lives, you must kill this girl, would you do it?"

Alexandra looked at Philomena again. Was there a flicker of fear in her eyes? Was she aware of this conversation, despite being forced to stand docilely by until Medea commanded her to move again?

"If I had to," Alexandra said slowly, not sure if she really believed it, but feeling like right now, she wanted Medea and her father to believe it.

This time, Philomena definitely trembled.

"Quimley, take my daughter back whence you came," her father said. "Alexandra, if and when I think you can play a useful role in rescuing your sisters, I will not hesitate to involve you, but in the meantime, I want you and Hela to continue your work mapping out all the cracks between worlds across the Confederation. It has already born fruit, as we have made use of those cracks to bypass wards and alarms to accomplish many things, including the taking of these hostages. I know you are ambitious and impetuous and yearn for action and glory, and this doesn't suit the image you had in your mind of waging war against the Confederation. But I tell you you are doing your part in a way only you can, and I remind you of your promise to obey me. Stop second-guessing my instructions just because my plans are not immediately apparent to you."

He delivered this speech with an expression and a tone of voice considerably less severe than he'd been using with her moments ago. Medea smiled, and Alexandra couldn't think of an argument that wouldn't sound petulant.

"What's the deal with the Doomguards?" she asked at last, trying to postpone her departure, even if it were for the petty reason that she didn't like having made her way here only to be dismissed like a teenager caught sneaking into an adults-only club without permission. "Looks like you acquired a few more. When are you going to use them?"

"Ah." Her father's frown was almost… chagrined. "Their enchantment is more cunning than I gave the goblins credit for. I am still unable to command them except by directly controlling them as I did on Eerie Island. I suspect multiple layers of failsafes and curses in the charms that animate them."

Maybe you shouldn't have killed all those goblins, then, Alexandra thought. Aloud, she said, "Lucilla and Drucilla would probably be really helpful in figuring out how to unlock them."

"They probably would be. Another reason I very much wish to have them safely brought to me. Now, will you obey me, daughter?" The edge in her father's voice was back.

Alexandra glanced at Medea, then at Philomena. The latter remained motionless, but Alexandra spotted a tear in the corner of her eye.

Alexandra simultaneously felt sorry for the girl and angry—why shouldn't she and her parents and her grandfather feel the fear Alexandra and her father felt for their family? Know the terror that so many Muggle families had known, of wizards making their children disappear?

"Yes, Father," she said.

Quimley seemed relieved when he took her hand, and lost no time in Apparating them both away.

They reappeared on the shores of the great lake where they had started, almost directly in front of Livia and Hela.

Hela was wearing colorful robes over black leggings, and a mismatched scarf, all completely inappropriate for the weather. Livia wore a long coat over a flannel shirt and jeans and walking boots, and held a wand. Hela whipped her wand up before Livia even reacted to Alexandra's appearance. Alexandra and Hela almost hexed each other, with the tips of their wands inches apart, before they both relaxed.

Livia looked from Hela to Alexandra. "Where were you?" Then her eyes fell on Quimley. "Oh. A house-elf? It's been a long time since I've seen—" Her mouth fell open. "Quimley?"

Quimley's eyes widened. In a choked voice, he said, "Livia Thorn."

"What?" Alexandra said, as she and Hela both looked from Livia to the elf.

"Quimley," said Livia again, and her eyes glistened. "Quimley, what happened to your ear?"

Quimley looked down. "It is not important, daughter of Thorn. It happened long ago."

"I remember…" Livia swallowed. "I remember how Jezebel used to treat you… she was so mean to you, and… I've always felt guilty that I didn't do anything about it. I'm sorry, Quimley, I'm so sorry."

"Wait, what?" Alexandra said. "How do you know each other, and… who's Jezebel?" She had only ever heard that name once.

"Jezebel Hucksteen," Livia said.

Quimley cringed as if he'd been slapped. Livia put her hand to her mouth. Alexandra just repeated, "What?"

She had met Jezebel Hucksteen, the daughter of Governor-General Hucksteen. Or rather, she had met her ghost. It was part of the Divination challenge at the Junior Wizarding Decathlon, but somehow, someone had manipulated Alexandra's challenge and she had found herself face-to-face with the spirit of a little girl who had died years before Alexandra was born. And Jezebel had told her—

You have a geist.

She still didn't know what that meant. But the other thing she had said—the answer to the riddle that was Alexandra's challenge.

Alexandra looked down at Quimley, with a terrible realization.

"The Most Terrible Gift," she said.

Quimley wailed as if in physical pain, clapped his hands to his head, and sobbing, disappeared.

Alexandra looked at Livia. "I think you have some explaining to do."

Livia wiped at her eyes, and then returned Alexandra's gaze with a fierce look of her own. "Do I, indeed? I rather think you do too, Alexandra."

They walked along the shore of the lake, Alexandra and Livia side by side, with Hela a few paces behind them.

"Jezebel was the same age as me," Livia said. "The Hucksteens had a townhouse in Chicago, and even when they were in New Amsterdam, we were all rich enough to use Portkeys, and, well, house-elves."

"And you and she and Claudia were friends?" Alexandra wondered why no one had ever mentioned this to her—but then, why would they?

"We were," Livia said. "Until Claudia was chosen for the Deathly Regiment."

Alexandra stopped dead in her tracks to stare at her sister.

"I didn't know about the Deathly Regiment at the time, of course," Livia said. "None of us except our father really understood everything that happened until much later. But I know that Claudia was chosen, and it was Quimley who came for her."

"How?" Alexandra asked. "How was Claudia chosen?"

"Even among the Elect, that's a great secret, and I'm not privy to it. I know our father claims that Elias Hucksteen arranged it deliberately, for reasons having to do with their political enmity."

"Why would Quimley be sent to collect Claudia to take her to the Lands Below?"

"Because that's how it's done, Alexandra." Livia looked down at her, her glasses reflecting the gray fog around them. "It's part of the Compact. All those house-elves serving all those wizarding households, they can all be compelled to perform that terrible service. Again, much of this I didn't know until recently. But that's how a child of the Elect is taken every seven years to—what do you call them? The Generous Ones?"

"Yes," Alexandra said, her voice muted by the fog.

"I suspect that elves take all the other children, too. It may be Accountants who choose them and abduct them, but only an elf can take a human to the Lands Below."

Without an obol, Alexandra thought. Or the ability to open cracks in the world, and even that required a sacrifice… She shuddered. The thought of every elf she'd ever met being aware of the Deathly Regiment and the terrible secret beneath the Confederation was too horrible.

"But then how did Claudia escape?" she asked.

"She… never told me exactly," Livia said. "She never was able to describe what happened to her. I only pieced it together years later, and some of it only recently. But surely you can figure out the broad strokes, given what you already know." Livia looked for a moment like a professor, with her large, studious glasses, waiting for a slow student to catch up. "That ragged old denim jacket Quimley was wearing… it was Claudia's."

Alexandra thought about Quimley, being sent to abduct Claudia Thorn from the Pruett household, and taking her to the Lands Below. Livia had described how the Hucksteens mistreated their house-elf. Jezebel in particular. And yet, she knew how hard it was to turn an elf against its master. What had motivated Quimley? Pity for the poor Squib who'd been chosen as a sacrifice out of spite? A girl who had been kind to him, along with her sister, when his mistress was not?

"Claudia… gave him her jacket, and that freed him," Alexandra said.

"From the very little she told me, it was a spontaneous gesture," Livia said. "She… I think she understood what was about to happen to her. She forgave Quimley."

"And somehow, he chose to substitute Jezebel for Claudia," Alexandra said.

Livia wrapped her arms around herself and looked out across the misty waters, her eyes distant.

"Claudia was hysterical at first, and then she was too traumatized to say much of anything afterwards," she said. "I was vaguely aware that something had happened to Jezebel, from listening to Mother and Father, but I had no idea what it had to do with Claudia, and it was years before I learned of Quimley's involvement. But it was a week after that that the Aurors came to our home."

She was quiet for a minute, and Alexandra didn't say anything. They stood on the edge of the lake, with rough, choppy water lapping against the shore. Distantly a horn sounded. Some ships were still plying their way across lakes that had become even more treacherous than usual this fall. Behind them, Hela remained a shadow, following them but saying nothing, undoubtedly listening to their conversation.

"I think," said Livia, "that Elias Hucksteen blamed our father for Jezebel's death. He thought our father somehow cursed Quimley, or used some other Dark Arts to substitute Jezebel for Claudia. That's what Father claims is the reason for Hucksteen's hatred, and an accusation of practicing Dark Arts is why the Aurors came to our house.

"Father says they were sent to kill him and Mother. I don't honestly know if that's true or if it was just how things happened. But in the process of supposedly trying to arrest him, my mother was killed. And the rest you know, mostly."

Alexandra's thoughts were heavy with the weight of these revelations, the grief, the knowledge of what Claudia had been through, and what she went through afterwards. "All this time… even this entire wizard war… it all started between our father and Jezebel's father? They used each other's daughters as weapons. It's all just been about vengeance."

"Well," Livia said. "At some point, I think it also became about the Confederation. Father didn't tell me much at the time, and only a little as I grew older. For years I barely spoke to him at all. I was quite angry about being sent away to live with my grandparents, and separated from Claudia. But eventually I learned bits and pieces of the truth… about the Elect, about what had happened to Claudia, and finally, although Father couldn't tell me about it directly, about the Deathly Regiment."

Alexandra felt some of the old resentment stirring again. She knew Claudia had chosen to isolate herself and reject any contact with her father, or Livia. But still—You could have reached out. To me. You could have found a way.

There was no point in bringing that up again. Instead, she asked, "So why did you follow me? And how did you follow me?"

"I followed you because I was afraid you were going to do something foolish. And it was Hela who tracked you."

Alexandra and Livia turned together to look at the Thule witch, or whatever she called herself, who stood with her hands in the sleeves of her robes. They were too thin for this weather, but Hela didn't look uncomfortable.

"You're going to have to explain how you do that," Alexandra said.

"It is something known by my people, and not part of your education," Hela said.

Alexandra scowled. Hela looked uneasy.

"Many Cultures have their own traditions that they don't teach outsiders," Livia said. "Don't press her, Alexandra."

Alexandra sighed. "Fine." For now. "So, I didn't do anything foolish." At Livia's skeptical expression, she said, "I mean, I came back."

"Alexandra, I don't want to lose another sister."

"You haven't lost any sisters, yet."

Livia looked back out across the water. "This fog is so strange. Even the news is calling it unnatural."

Alexandra saw nothing with Witch's Sight. If there were magical creatures lurking in the fog, they weren't revealing themselves.

"Can we go back, please?" Livia asked. "I don't like it here. Also, I left Ashley alone with Nicholas and we're getting ready to move to the safehouse Father prepared."

"Did you Apparate all the way here? I can't Apparate that far."

"Take my hand," Livia said.

"I can get back fine—"

"With your magic boots, yes. Maybe that's how Hela tracked you?"

Alexandra looked sharply at Hela. "Is that true?"

Hela shrugged, while meeting Alexandra's gaze defiantly, as if asking: What will you do if I don't answer?

Alexandra sighed. "Is it possible others can follow me like that?"

Hela seemed to consider this. "My way? I do not think so. How can I know what others are capable of?"

Alexandra looked around, at the encroaching fog. She took Livia's hand, and they Apparated away.