In this spellbinding sequel to Ravenfall , two kids with supernatural powers must venture beyond the veil to protect the Tree of Life from a terrifying foe—or risk losing the magic of Ravenfall forever. Best friends Anna and Colin defeated the King of the Dead on Halloween night, saving the magical Ravenfall Inn they call home. Now, with Hannukah approaching, the kids are looking forward to exploring their new powers—and maybe enjoying a little challah and peppermint cocoa, too. But then a Raven—a guardian of the supernatural world—shows up at their doorstep with a warning. A demon from Jewish lore is hunting the Tree of Life, a source of untold power and immortality. If they can’t stop him, they risk losing the magic of Ravenfall forever. As they venture into the Otherworld, Anna and Colin discover a wondrous, menacing realm full of mythological creatures… but is the true danger closer than they think? "Josephson seamlessly connects a complex, magical world with Jewish culture for a wholly unique adventure. Fans of fantasy and folklore will want to revisit this series over and over ."—George Jreije, author of the Shad Hadid series "Cozy and heartfelt, Hollowthorn is a magical, monster-ful novel , tailor-made for readers with an eye for sentient houses. It left me wishing I had a Ravenfall book for every holiday."—Emi Watanabe Cohen, author of Golemcrafters "An adventure lit by magic and candlelight, Hollowthorn is an immersive wonder. "—Chris Baron, award-winning author of All of Me "Return to the wonderful world of Ravenfall for another magical adventure! A thrilling and heartfelt book about accepting who you are and trusting the people who love you to love all of you."—Jordan Zwick, The Book Seller "A strong, enchanting adventure." — Kirkus Reviews Kalyn Josephson is a fantasy author living in the California Bay Area. She loves books, cats, books with cats, and making up other worlds to live in for a while. She is the author of the Ravenfall series, the Storm Crow duology, and This Dark Descent . Chapter 1 Anna Everything has a story. Some things are just more forthcoming than others. Take the worn silver coin Mr. Andrade brought me to read that morning—it wouldn’t pipe down about jingling around in pockets or how it had spent a week wedged under the Andrades’ kitchen table to even out a leg. I’d been able to tell Mr. Andrade four separate stories about the psychic uncle who’d owned it. Four! My latest object hasn’t made a peep. Made of smooth, polished oak with a gold clasp, the chest is about the size of a small shoebox. There’s an engraving of a patterned hand with the center three fingers straight up in a scout’s salute, the thumb and pinky curving outward like petals at the base. In the middle of the palm is a wide, knowing eye that Colin said gave him the creeps. Something about it following him as he moved. I found it in my dad’s study among his cluttered collection of magical objects and have been trying and failing to read it for nearly half an hour. “Relax, Anna,” Nora says from beside me. My mother and I are sitting at the kitchen table, a plate of gingerbread cookies and a freshly poured cup of Earl Grey before each of us, courtesy of the house. I’d asked for Irish Breakfast, but there’s no arguing when a four-story ancient inn puts its foot down. “This sort of magic needs to flow naturally,” Nora continues as she twists her blond curls up into a bun. “If you try to force it, you’ll only stop it up.” Easy for her to say. She’s been using her psychic powers for decades now; I’ve had my psychometry abilities for less than a year. But I try to do as she says and relax, to let my magic flow naturally to the chest. Nora told me to picture it like a bridge between me and the object, and then to cross that bridge to find information. But my magic only sloughs off the engraved chest like melted snow. I relinquish my white-knuckled grip on it and slump into my seat with a groan. “People are so much easier to read. Objects are the worst.” “People give their stories much more freely,” Nora says reassuringly. “You’ll get the hang of it eventually, like you did everything else.” I want to believe her, but I feel like I’ve come to a standstill. I made so much progress after Samhain thanks to Nora’s lessons. Before, if I touched someone who’d seen death, I got a vision of it too. Now I can control whether I get a vision when I touch someone, and I’ve begun to see other memories besides just people’s deaths. But it’s nearly mid-December now, and the only objects I’ve been able to read have been things like Mr. Andrade’s coin, which’ll shout at just about anybody with a magical pulse. “I wanted to show Henry,” I mutter, wrapping my hands around my mug and wishing my disappointment would evaporate with the steam. As a relic hunter, my dad would love to know the chest’s history from its point of view. Soon I’ll be able to tell him new things about every