come up to Starfell to snatch souls she thought were useful was a horrible thought.
Umbellifer’s form shifted and flickered like a candle against the wind. ‘That is just an added benefit. I can only commit a breach when the reasons are compelling enough. The only other way to draw a soul down here is for them to decide they should come. Like you did.’
Willow was confused. ‘So why did you take him then, if it wasn’t to steal his magic?’
The queen’s face was inches from hers as she said, ‘Because I needed to know what he saw.’
Umbellifer flicked a wrist and a swirl of mist coiled round them both. Willow hardly had time to gasp in shock as it carried them to the top of what looked like the Great Wisperia Tree in an instant. When the mist dispersed, Willow found herself in an echo of Nolin Sometimes’s moon garden. All the colours were gone, all the life sucked out. It was filled with concentric circles made of shadows.
‘This world is a mirror,’ Umbellifer explained, ‘of the one above. What has gone on before trickles down here eventually, through the souls of those who have departed – whether human, animal or plant. I have been listening to these memories, paying attention to the signs … just like your witch,’ she said, with what looked almost like a smile. ‘I have seen that something is coming … something to threaten us all. I needed to know more. And then I found this.’
The queen circled a finger, and Willow noticed a wraith-like memory flower by their feet. It looked like a ghostly version of the very flower Willow had once seen in Sometimes’s moon garden. He had taught her how this rare and special plant could reveal a secret under the light of the moon before it died. They had asked it who had taken the missing Tuesday, and it had answered them.
‘The memory flower told of the boy who took away the day – the boy called Silas cast the spell hidden within the fortress. I knew this was linked to the signs that something terrible was coming, but I needed to discover more. I needed to find the person who knew to ask it this question – which is why I took the forgotten teller.’
The spent petals began to blow apart in the windless air. And there, across the garden, where the scattered remnants of the flower settled, lay a figure with white hair and unseeing pale eyes.
‘Sometimes!’ Willow cried, and she raced towards him. She knelt beside her friend, trying to wake him. His eyes remained open yet all white. Willow shook him, but he would not wake. His body hung limp in her arms.
The ghostly queen approached Sometimes and touched his shoulder. Her eyes suddenly rolled back in their sockets, turning pale and white like his. Then she let go of him and blinked, and her eyes returned to their usual black. They seemed to gleam as she drifted in the air above Willow. ‘I have read his memories, read all that he has seen in Starfell – even things that he missed.’
Sometimes remained lifeless on the ground. ‘What’s happened to him?’ Willow asked.
‘He’s asleep,’ said the ghostly queen, ‘or rather he’s adrift somewhere between life and death. It’s a valuable skill I put to use when I need to read someone’s secrets or borrow their magic. It’s better if they’re not awake.’
Willow felt tears prick her eyes. ‘This is someone’s life, not some game! Let him go. He would have told you anything you wanted – you didn’t need to abduct him. You didn’t need to play these cruel tricks on us.’
Umbellifer stared at her. ‘You are naive, child. I am not some monstrous ruler seeking only power. He is needed more here so that I may prevent what has happened before.’
Willow frowned. ‘Prevent what?’
‘What do you think? Another war, child.’
22
The Forgotten Tale
Willow stared. ‘A war?’
The queen nodded. ‘One is coming, of that I have no doubt … The signs show that history is set to repeat itself. As I said, most memories trickle down here eventually, but some take millennia … and there was a key event that even I, with access to all of this,’ she said, indicating the ghostly world at her feet, ‘… missed.’
‘What?’ asked Willow.
The queen moved fast, her eerie face inches from Willow’s as she floated above her. Umbellifer’s shape shifted like ink in water, the pale white blossoms in her