BOOK THREE OF THE BELOVED FABLEHAVEN SERIES—OVER 3.5 MILLION COPIES SOLD! AND DON’T MISS FORBIDDEN MOUNTAIN, THE START OF BRANDON MULL’S NEW GUARDIANS SERIES! Celebrate the 20th anniversary of the beloved New York Times bestselling series about two siblings who inherit a hidden sanctuary for magical creatures. In the third book, darkness is threatening to overcome Fablehaven—and all the magical creatures within it. Strange things are afoot at Fablehaven. Seth discovers that someone—or something—has released a mysterious plague of darkness that infects magical creatures and transforms them into monsters. As the disease spreads and the dark creatures attack, the Sorensons are desperate to find a cure. But to triumph over the darkness, they may have to uncover the hidden history of Fablehaven—and their own family. Meanwhile, Kendra and members of the Knights of the Dawn must journey to a distant preserve to retrieve another hidden artifact, but only if the Society of the Evening Star don’t get there first. Far from home, they will have to face traps, traitors and even a dragon to complete their quest. With both siblings racing against the clock and enemies around every corner, they will have to decide who to trust and how to embrace their emerging powers to save Fablehaven. Don’t forget to drink the milk. And definitely don’t miss any of Brandon Mull’s bestselling FABLEHAVEN and DRAGONWATCH books: Fablehaven • Rise of the Evening Star • Grip of the Shadow Plague • Secrets of the Dragon Sanctuary • Keys to the Demon Prison Dragonwatch • Wrath of the Dragon King • Master of the Phantom Isle • Champion of the Titan Games • Return of the Dragon Slayers PLUS! The Gorgon’s Fury: Tales of Newel and Doren: A Fablehaven Adventure Brandon Mull is the #1 New York Times bestselling author of Fablehaven and many other series. A kinetic thinker, Brandon enjoys pacing, popping bubble wrap, and squeezing stress toys. He lives in Utah with his wife Erlyn, their eleven kids, and three mischievous cats. Chapter One Nipsies On a muggy August day, Seth hurried along a faint path, eyes scanning the lush foliage to his left. Tall, mossy trees overshadowed a verdant sea of bushes and ferns. He felt damp all ­over—the humidity refused to let his sweat dry. Seth checked over his shoulder periodically and started at any sound in the undergrowth. Not only was Fablehaven a dangerous place to roam alone, he was terrified of getting spotted so far from the ­yard. His skill at sneaking into the woods had improved over the long summer. The excursions with Coulter were fun, but not frequent enough to satisfy his appetite for adventure. There was something special about venturing out onto the preserve alone. He had become familiar with the woods surrounding the main house, and despite the concerns of his grandparents, he had proven to himself that he could explore safely. In order to avoid deadly situations, he rarely strayed far from the yard, and he avoided the areas he knew to be most ­perilous. Today was an ­exception. Today he was following directions to a secret ­meeting. Although Seth felt certain he had interpreted the instructions correctly, he was beginning to fret that he had somehow overlooked the final marker. The trail he currently trod was one he had never roamed before, quite a distance from the main house. He remained intent on the shrubs along the left side of the ­path. Many people had come and gone from Fablehaven over the summer. At breakfast, Grandpa Sorenson had notified Seth, Kendra, Coulter, and Dale that Warren and Tanu would be returning home that evening. Seth was excited for a reunion with his friends, but knew that the more people who were at the house, the more eyes would be watching to impede his unauthorized expeditions. Today was probably the last time he would be able to slip out on his own for a while. Just as he was losing faith, Seth observed a stick topped by a large pinecone planted in the ground not far from the path. He should not have worried about missing ­it—­the tall marker was unmistakable. Standing beside the stick, Seth took his compass from his emergency kit, found northeast, and set off on a heading not quite perpendicular to the meager ­trail. The ground sloped mildly upward. He swerved to avoid some thorny, flowering plants. Birds twittered in the leafy branches overhead. A butterfly with wide, vibrant wings bobbed on the breezeless air. Because of the milk he had drunk that morning, Seth knew it was actually a butterfly. Had it been a fairy, he would have recognized it as ­such. “Pssst,” a voice hissed from the bushes off to one side, “over here.” Seth swiveled and saw Doren, the satyr, peering over a glossy shrub with broad leaves. The satyr motioned him ­over. “Hey, Doren,” Seth said in a low voice, trotting over to where the satyr crouched. He found Newel hiding there as well, his horns somewhat longer, his skin slightly more freckled, and his hair a bi