IRONICALLY, WHEN CAS AND WARRIOR FINALLY drifted off, they slept like the dead – which was why neither of them knew anything was wrong until they awoke, crusty-eyed and sleep-dazed, to the sight of Dr Bane’s furious face looming over them.

“Didn’t either of you hear the sirens?!”

It took a long minute for Bane’s words to register. Warrior groaned and buried deeper into the cocoon of her covers, but Cas yawned, stretched … and then sat bolt upright.

“S-sirens?” he gulped. “What sirens? We didn’t hear anything.”

Dr Bane stood at the foot of their beds, tight-lipped and angry. He was flanked on either side by Mrs Crane and Madame Aster. Mrs Crane wore tweed pyjamas and her unruly hair was tidied away in a frilly sleep bonnet. She was wringing her hands so anxiously that Cas thought she might rub all the skin off, whilst Madame Aster stood in her sleek blue Wavebreaker cloak, arms firmly folded, haughty and severe.

The only thing that could have made Dr Bane look angrier was if steam had been pouring out of his nostrils.

“The school’s sirens!” said Dr Bane, flinging an arm towards the shattered window. “The ones that went off only minutes ago.”

Following Bane’s gesture, Cas glanced outside to see that dawn had barely broken. A faint red glow pierced the eerie gloom from the boundary, but overhead the moon and the sun were still crossing paths in the inky violet sky.

“Excuse me. What happened here?” asked Dr Bane, eyes widening at the sight of the broken glass.

“It was nothing. A bird.” Cas brushed him off. He leapt out from his covers, fixated on Dr Bane’s news, but loitered by his bed. Bane looked so enraged that Cas didn’t dare approach.

No, thought Cas as he examined Dr Bane again. That wasn’t right.

From the tense, wrinkled lines of his brow, to his pursed mouth and hands curled into balls at his side, Cas realized with an unsettling jolt that Dr Bane wasn’t mad. He was worried. Terrified. Petrified with concern.

Without answering, Dr Bane strode forward and reached out to grab Cas. For a stupid, crazy moment, Cas thought Bane was about to grasp him by the collar and march him out of Wayward School’s gates, yelling at him never to return. But instead, Dr Bane stretched out his arms as if to hug him, relieved, before he stopped himself at the last moment and instead patted Cas down as if he was making sure he was still real. As if he was making sure Cas was still alive.

Dr Bane let out an almighty sigh. “You’re both all right,” he wheezed, pressing a hand to his forehead as his usual calm returned. “That’s the main thing.”

“Wait a second,” said Warrior, suddenly jumping out of bed too. “The school’s wards went off? Do you mean—”

“Yes,” Dr Bane cut her off, frowning again. “Someone tried to break in.”

Cas’s stomach plummeted.

A break-in?

Not even Dr Bane’s eyes flickering towards him with the greatest care in the world could quell the thought that instantly came to mind.

The Master of All.

Or, more likely, one of his Heretics.

But how could it be?

Cas hadn’t even known for certain that he was the Foretold until yesterday. Warrior had said that Wayward School was the safest place for them. She had made it seem like Cas would be untouchable here. It was one thing if the Master suspected where Cas was – his Heretics had followed them to Wayward Town, after all – but did he now know that Cas was the definitely the Foretold, too?

A dread unlike any other flooded Cas from head to toe. Maybe it was cowardly, but he wanted to run. He wanted to hide. Every good and hopeful feeling that had come with being the Foretold was replaced by ice-cold terror. The Master was coming.

The Master was coming for him.

Cas couldn’t help but look at the crumpled sheets on his bed. The ones he had ridiculously tried to use as a weapon to defend himself last night. How dumb and reckless had he been to let Warrior in like that?

She could’ve been anyone.

Dr Bane moved to embrace Warrior, but then switched tack and flicked a speck of lint off her shoulder.

“It’s probably just some kids from Aurelius Academy,” said Warrior, shrugging the incident off. “They’re our rival school. They try to mess with us every year. Last September, they trashed the boathouse and released a bogwumpy into the woods.”

“She’s right, Claudius,” said Mrs Crane, her voice waveringly hopeful. “Wardsmen are searching the school as we speak. Whoever it was seems to have been spooked by the wards. If someone had got in, the guards would’ve found them by now.”

Cas wasn’t sure who Mrs Crane was trying to convince: Dr Bane or herself.

“Oui,” agreed Madame Aster. “Nevertheless, Monseiur Darkbloom, Mademoiselle Bane, we were very concerned when you didn’t show up in the Atrium with everyone else, like we’ve practised in our drills. Instead, Mademoiselle Bane, it seems you chose to leave the Attic in the middle of the night, unsupervised, to sleep somewhere you were not supposed to. And you didn’t even have the common sense to inform Monseiur Darkbloom about our procedures when the wards sounded, compromising both of your safeties—”

“We didn’t hear them!” insisted Warrior.

“Enough.” Dr Bane held up his hand sternly. “Warrior, Madame Aster is right; you shouldn’t have left the Attic without telling anyone. Of course we were going to worry when you weren’t up there and we couldn’t find either of you. But thank you, Morgane.” Bane sounded distinctly sarcastic. “I am more than capable of knowing when to discipline my ward.”

Madame Aster shrank back, sour-faced and submissive.

“You’re right, Dromeda.” Dr Bane nodded at Mrs Crane. “It was probably just Aurelius Academy trying to pull another prank, but even so…” He trailed off, glancing back to Cas. “I think it’s best if Cas rejoins Warrior and her friends in the Attic.”

Dr Bane took a step closer, gripping Cas’s shoulders fiercely.

“We need to keep you safe, Cas.” His tired eyes swam with years of longing and desperation. Cas felt something squeeze hard and fast behind his ribcage. “You’re the only hope we’ve got.”

Everyone was buzzing with the news about the break-in when Cas and Warrior entered the dining hall for breakfast.

Normally, Cook Fiddlepot only needed to cater for Warrior, her friends and the live-in teachers who had breakfast at the school, but today the hall was packed to the brim with students. For a second, Cas was grateful that he was yesterday’s news – until suddenly the room grew silent as all eyes swivelled towards him. Then noise exploded again as half the school rushed towards him, jabbing their fingers and pulling him this way and that.

“Cas! Cas! Come here!”

“Sit with us, Cas!”

“No, you’re welcome at our table, you can even have my eggs and bacon!”

Roughly, Cas was jostled from side to side as he ripped his hands and elbows free from people trying to grasp him. Some wanted to tug him down to sit beside them, whilst others simply wanted to touch him. Perhaps wearing the ratty purple Deathmaker cloak Dr Bane had lent him wasn’t the best idea today.

“Make way, make way, Foretold coming through,” Warrior sing-sang, shoving people away from Cas as they waded through the throng. “Get off, get off – I swear by the threads, Laula Spinks, if you don’t get your grubby Firetamer hands off him, I’ll bite you!”

“Where do you want to go, Cas?” Warrior whispered in his ear.

Cas pointed towards a secluded table nestled away at the back of the room, where Paws and Fenix were sitting with Dewey Cricket and his two Earthshaper friends, Bracken Moonstrike and Ellie Green.

Finally, after batting and slapping away countless hands, they broke free from the crowd and plopped down at the table beside them. Paws and Fenix had also been joined by an Airscaper girl, who introduced herself as Neerja Gill.

“They’re animals,” said Warrior, running her fingers through her ruffled hair. “Animals, the lot of them.”

“Oh, they’re only excited,” said Paws sympathetically. “For twelve years, we Others have been searching for the Foretold. You can’t expect people not to be happy.”

“Happy I can deal with,” grumbled Warrior, inspecting a tear in her plain blazer. “But they could at least have a bit of respect.”

“Respect?” sniggered a voice from behind them. “Who on earth would ever respect you?”

Their whole table spun around to see the pale twins from yesterday standing behind them. The twins were flanked on either side by a big, burly boy and a long, narrow girl. The burly boy looked like the kind of person who ate nothing but spinach for breakfast, whilst the narrow girl’s mouth was hooked in a permanent sneer, making her seem like the kind of person who could be found pressed up against walls or hiding in crevices, fishing for secrets which weren’t hers to know. To Cas’s utter amazement, Quinnberley Crestbourne – the talented Wavebreaker – was there too. Unlike the others, though, she cringed back as if she had been dragged there against her will.

“Du Villaines,” said Warrior through gritted teeth.

What a surprise. The pale twins were related to the wrathful High Councillor from the library.

“Nice summer, Riff-Raff?” the female twin sniped. “We heard Dr Bane shipped you off to the Normie world because he couldn’t stand the sight of you.”

“I’m surprised you can stand the sight of yourself,” retorted Warrior, “looking at your ugly face in the mirror every day.”

The girl snickered again as the insult fell flat. Ugly couldn’t have been further from the truth. The twins were identical in every way except the obvious. Both had silver hair, moonshine skin and poison-ivy green eyes.

“Maybe Bane was hoping you’d get stuck there,” said the male twin. “Everyone knows what happens to Others who stay too long in the Normie world. They shrivel up and—”

“Stop it,” said Cas, standing up and facing them eye to eye.

The boy and girl beside the twins let out an antagonising oooh, but the twins didn’t seem to care. In fact, their faces softened into chillingly pleasant smiles.

“Casander No-Name, right?” said the female twin, her hungry gaze roaming over him. “From the Order Trials?”

“Actually, it’s Casander Darkbloom,” said Cas. He wanted the twins to know his new name, to push home the point of who he was. They had been there at the Oracle’s ceremony, which meant they knew that he was the Foretold. And if there was any chance this might dissuade them from taunting Warrior and the others, Cas intended to use it.

The male twin only smiled wider. “We thought as much,” he said politely. “That’s why we came over.”

“To invite you to come and sit with us.”

“Because you must be lost.”

“Or confused.”

The male twin jerked his chin towards the table. “There’s no way the great and special Foretold should be caught dead sitting with people like this.”

“Thanks for the concern,” said Cas coldly, “but I think you’re more lost than me. I believe the Basic Manners for Nitwits and Numpties class is located down the hall.”

In an instant, the male twin’s smile slipped into a scowl. “Is that so?”

The sound of clattering cutlery around them ceased as the room grew quiet. Everyone was watching them.

“You’re making a big mistake, Foretold,” the male twin warned, puffing out his chest importantly. “My sister and I would make much better friends than this lot. Our family is very well known in the Balance Lands. We know what it’s like to be in your shoes, to be famous. We practically run Wayward School, you’ll see.”

“Really?” said Cas. “Because you don’t look like you could run a bath.”

The onlookers sucked in a breath.

“Snouts!” ordered the female twin, stamping her foot. The twins’ cronies inched forward. “I think it’s time we taught the Foretold his first real lesson at Wayward.”

Even though she was clearly part of their gang now, Quinnberley Crestbourne gave a trembling squeak.

“I’d like to see you try,” Cas challenged, clenching his fists and stepping towards them. It would have been a bold move, except his step landed awkwardly as he felt the tingling sensation of his funny leg starting.

Cas tried to hide it, but it was hopeless.

“Hey, look, everyone!” howled the male twin, pointing and smirking. “The Foretold really is ‘special’ after all.”

“How can you be the Foretold if you’re broken?” snapped the female twin. “What use are you to us like that?”

Warrior rose and slammed her breakfast bowl against the table. “Leave him alone, Lucie.”

The pale female twin faltered for a second, then quickly regained her cool, callous composure. “It’s Lucille Du Villaine to you,” she snarled. “Only my friends get to call me Lucie. And I wouldn’t be seen with you as my friend if you were the last slimy limpet on earth.”

“Maybe we should just leave it, Sam,” stammered Quinnberley, tugging on Lucie’s brother’s sleeve.

But Sam swatted her away. “Do you want to hang out with us or not, Crestbourne?” he threatened, before throwing his gaze back to Cas and his table. “You wouldn’t want to be associated with the likes of Riff-Raff, Furball and Phoenix Boy, would you?”

Quinnberley shot Cas and his friends an apologetic stare. Cas felt sorry for her. He could only imagine that she’d been waylaid by the Du Villaines in a dark corner of the school after the Order Trials. They would have been desperate to acquire her gifts for their ranks. If Cas didn’t have Warrior and the others, that could’ve easily been him.

But he did have Warrior. And Paws and Fenix.

And he was Casander Darkbloom. The Foretold.

Nobody spoke to his friends like that.

“How about you mind your own business?” said Cas determinedly, taking a wobbly step despite his twitching leg.

The Du Villaine twins and the Snout brother and sister burst out laughing.

“Come on, Luce,” said Sam. “Let’s not waste our time on these freaks any more. Maxwell, Aubria, let’s go.”

Lucille shot Cas a dirty look. “We’ll be watching you, Foretold. It’s only a matter of time before you slip up, then everyone will see you for the fraud you are.”

The crew of bullies turned on their heels and stalked off. As they did, Warrior slumped back down in relief, but Cas refused to take his eyes off them until Maxwell Snout had dunked a Wayone’s head into his cereal bowl on their way out of the room.

“Poor Quinnberley,” said Paws, once they sat down. “She’s a lovely girl, I was speaking to her in class yesterday. She doesn’t know what she’s got herself into.”

“Poor Quinnberley?” said Warrior exasperatedly. “How about poor us? We were the ones about to get walloped into next Wednesday by the Snouts.”

“The Snouts?” asked Cas. “I thought—”

“The Du Villaines never do their own dirty work,” said Warrior, gripping her spoon so hard that her knuckles transformed into white stars. “They get their cronies, the Snouts, to do it for them. Maxwell might be brilliant for beatings, but if brains were dynamite, he wouldn’t have enough to blow his own nose. That’s when they use Aubria to dig up dirt on anyone they want to intimidate.”

“If it makes you feel better,” piped up Neerja Gill, “they aren’t any nicer to anyone in their own Order. I have all my Airscaper lessons with them and it’s just –” she shuddered – “horrible.”

“Well, um, antagonising them isn’t the answer,” said Fenix.

“He’s right,” agreed Paws. “You know what you should say: I am rubber, you are glue. Whatever you say bounces off me and sticks to you.”

Warrior looked between the pair of them like they were muppets.

“Honestly, Fe,” she said despairingly, “sometimes, you’re like a lighthouse in the Sahara: bright but not a lot of use. The Du Villaines only speak one language and it isn’t the one we’re using right now.”

“Maybe it’s not their fault,” said Fenix. “Everyone knows Mr and Mrs Du Villaine likely, erm, Gleaned the twins when they were younger. Putting someone through something as, um, traumatic as that can mess you up for life.”

Warrior grew uncharacteristically silent and glanced down at her plate. Cas knew they were both thinking about what she had told him last night about her own Gleaning.

Hadn’t she ever told anyone else before?

“Or maybe they’re jealous of you,” suggested Dewey Cricket, tossing Cas a bucktoothed, comforting grin. The gesture was so genuine that Cas smiled too.

“I doubt it, Dewey,” muttered Cas.

“Actually, he’s probably right,” said Warrior, speaking up again and grabbing a piece of toast off the rack to butter it. “That’s why High Councillor Du Villaine was so mean yesterday. She didn’t want to accept that you, a nothing boy from nowhere, is the Foretold instead of one of her grandchildren.”

“Nothing boy from nowhere. Splendid, I think I’ll get that tattooed on my forehead.”

“Groo know whab I mean,” Warrior mumbled through her mouthful.

“Let’s just hope I don’t have many classes with them.”

“Oh, that reminds me!” said Paws, grabbing something stuffed down the side of her wheelchair. “Miss Grimbly gave this to me for you, Cas. It’s your class timetable.”

“Bwet dat was wuvley,” said Warrior, still chewing, before she gave a mighty swallow. “Seeing gorgeous Gruffly first thing this morning.”

Paws pouted, offended. “Miss Grimbly’s not so bad, if you’d just get to know her,” she said, stroking the cat still snoozing on her shoulders. “Though Mogget isn’t too fond of her parakeets. But then again, she doesn’t like many other animals. Speaking of which! Did you get my bird last night?”

“Bird?” Cas and Warrior said at once.

“Yeah, my nightjar,” said Paws. She registered the look of unbridled confusion on Cas’s face. “I tried to send one to the mausoleum to check on you. I don’t control mud and rocks and plants like other Earthshapers. I can control animals – speak to them, speak through them, read their thoughts, jump into their bodies and see the world through their eyes.”

“Wow,” Cas breathed, astonished.

The Abnormies’ powers just kept getting cooler.

“What does it feel like, being apart from your body?”

With his funny leg, Cas wondered what it must be like to slide into a body which wasn’t his own.

Paws shrugged. “It’s not really like being apart from my body, more like I am them and they are me. I’ve always been drawn to animals. To understanding them. I couldn’t leap inside an animal’s mind if they didn’t want me there, nor could I return to my own body if I didn’t feel at home in it. But, as you might’ve seen from the nightjar, I haven’t been able to successfully jump into another creature’s body yet, aside from Mogget. That’s why she stays so close.”

Cas studied his class timetable. Like Quinnberley Crestbourne, it looked like he had been bumped straight up into second year with students his own age.

“First year’s a dud,” said Warrior, peeking at the schedule over his shoulder. “You don’t have Order-specific lessons and it’s mostly to get everyone on the same level. I see you do have some Wayone classes, though, to get you up to speed. Look, there’s Thread Theory 101, that’s not too tricky – oh, and History of the Balance Lands, but they’ve changed you from the beginner’s class to our Waytwo class after week two. Urgh, Order Studies with Madame Aster is the worst – but at least we’re together for Special Studies after that.”

“What’s Special Studies?”

Everything else on his timetable seemed self-explanatory: Waygates and Portal Physics; Power and Politics of the Ages; Calligraphy and Cartography; Twisted Tongues and Languishing Languages; and Maths (apparently there wasn’t a way to make such a dreadful subject sound exciting).

“Special Studies and Order Studies go hand in hand,” elaborated Warrior. “Everyone is together for Order Studies, where you learn about the different Orders: their traditions, cultures and the Elementie creatures associated with them. Then every few weeks, we go and observe one Order’s Special Studies class. Now, that’s the one where everyone is separated into their Orders. Earthshapers learn how to control dirt and stuff, Wavebreakers learn to control water, and so on… But us – you and me – we get our own private lessons with Dr Bane. I don’t fit into any of the Orders, so Bane has always taught me himself. But I bet he can’t wait to get hold of you. He hasn’t been able to teach his Deathmaker powers for seventeen years.”

“Dr Bane still has his powers?” said Cas disbelievingly.

Warrior nodded. “The last fifth Order member alive with any of his magic still intact. You couldn’t ask for a better teacher.”