Four girls with the power to control the elements must come together to save the world from a terrible evil in this “series opener [that] has it all” ( Kirkus Reviews ). Years ago, everything changed. Phantoms, massive beasts of nightmare, began terrorizing the world. At the same time, four girls—the Effigies—appeared, each with a unique power to control a classical element. Since then, they have protected the world from the Phantoms. At the death of one Effigy, another is chosen, pulled from her normal life into the never-ending battle. When Maia unexpectedly becomes the next Fire Effigy, she resists her new calling. A quiet girl with few friends and almost no family, she was much happier to admire the Effigies from afar. Never did she imagine having to master her ability to control fire, to protect innocent citizens from the Phantoms, or to try bringing together the other three Effigies. But with the arrival of the mysterious Saul—a man who seems to be able to control the Phantoms using the same cosmic power previously only granted to four girls at a time—Maia and the other Effigies must learn to work together in a world where their celebrity status is more important than their heroism. But the secrets Saul has, and the power he possesses, might be more than even they can handle… "With its cast of diverse, well-drawn heroines, colourful world building, and action-packed storyline, FATE OF FLAMES is an immersive and monstrously fun read." -- Elsie Chapman, author of DUALED and DIVIDED "This series opener has it all: strong females, intrigue, a dash of romance, monsters, and a sequel in the wings." -- Kirkus Reviews "In a thrilling adventure with echoes of Pacific Rim, Avatar: The Last Airbender , and Buffy the Vampire Slayer , Raughley ( Feather Bound ) depicts the cost of power, the lure of fame, and the trauma of overwhelming stress in a compelling story with memorably flawed heroines... An engrossing kickoff to the Effigies series." -- Publishers Weekly "A compelling concept, and the mix of fragility, defiance, strength, and utter exhaustion that plays out in the girls feels authentic... A sequel will likely be eagerly anticipated, as these four together have only begun to find their groove, and it’s clear there are more intriguing and disturbing details about this world to uncover." -- Bulletin of the Center for Children's Books Sarah Raughley is a Nigerian-Canadian novelist and a member of the Royal Society of Canada: the national council of distinguished Canadian scholars, scientists, and artists. She’s best known for her YA books: The Effigies Series, The Bones of Ruin Trilogy, and The Queen’s Spade duology. Raughley is also an English professor and public intellectual who has written for journals such as The Washington Post and CBC . You can find out more about her work at SarahRaughley.com. Fate of Flames THE WAR SIREN WAILED. I gaped at the windows, my eyes locked on the sky-grazing tower that stood out against the Manhattan skyline. The Needle. Like all the others in the country, it was a tall, sleek eyesore glimmering day and night with bright streaks of the most obnoxious metallic blue running up and down its length like little live wires. It was supposed to be some kind of high frequency . . . something-something particular disrupter. Okay, I’m not great with technical terms. The important thing was that it was more than just a tourist attraction. Eyesore or not, it was the only thing keeping everyone in the city from being slaughtered very messily. Blinking lights meant we were safe. And its lights had just blinked off. No one in my algebra class said anything. No one could. We were screwed. “Okay, ch-children, just remain calm,” Mr. Whomsley shouted, though he tripped over his own feet trying to get around his desk. His sunken eyes darted around the classroom as if looking for one of us to tell him what to do next. Except we were all looking at him now, at his gaping mouth and his greasy forehead beading with sweat. I could tell he was nervous, no, terrified—terrified because the War Siren that hadn’t blown in some fifty years had just broken into short, quick pulses. The signal for a Category Three attack. It was all from the Hirsch-Johnson Phantom Disaster Scale. Four categories. Categories One and Two were already bad, with damage to infrastructure and physical injury expected to varying, awful degrees. But Category Three . . . large-scale destruction . . . city-wide terror . . . And that was just the third level. Wait. Category Three? Oh god. My nails grazed my desk. This isn’t happening. “Don’t panic!” Mr. Whomsley shuffled the papers on his desk. “Mr. Whomsley?” Janice Gellar sounded near tears. A lot of oh my gods harmonized with her whimpers in the background. My own included. “I said don’t panic. Don’t panic!” He started grasping his tie, wiping the sweat off his forehead with the back of his sleeve. “What the hell are we su