This “thoroughly satisfying…out-of-this-world” ( Kirkus Reviews ) third and final book in the Thirteen Witches trilogy from New York Times bestselling author Jodi Lynn Anderson follows Rosie in her last stand against the Nothing King—perfect for fans of Newbery winner The Girl Who Drank the Moon . After barely escaping Earth with the League of Witch Hunters, Rosie and her friends are hiding out from the Nothing King and his witch followers on a barely inhabited planet. Then a messenger arrives with the unexpected news that Earth survived the Nothing King’s black hole, but only because he wants one last treasure before dragging everything into oblivion: the Museum of Imagined Things. Rosie saw the museum once when she visited the Brightweaver in the clouds. It’s infinitely tall and made only of mist and figments, so Brightweaver was able to bundle it up and hide it for safekeeping. The League of Witch Hunters, joined by a gaggle of the world’s last ghosts picked up from Limbo along the way, cross the galaxy in search of the museum and in preparation for their last showdown with the Nothing King. As Rosie and her allies weather surprises and betrayals while fighting to maintain their trust in each other, they may find the museum has one last secret in store. "Thematically, the action elements of the plot counter destruction and nothingness with creativity and imagination, while emotionally, growing up and facing different kinds of goodbyes are explored, resulting in a thoroughly satisfying conclusion. An out-of-this-world finale." ― Kirkus Reviews Jodi Lynn Anderson is the bestselling author of several critically acclaimed books for young people, including the May Bird trilogy, the Thirteen Witches series, and My Diary from the Edge of the World . She lives with her husband, son, and daughter in Asheville, North Carolina, and holds an MFA in writing and literature from Bennington College. Chapter 1 CHAPTER 1 “We’re getting there,” says a woman’s voice in the dark. I’m not sure who the voice belongs to. I reach out to see if I can touch someone—my mom, my brother… but my hands touch nothing. I wonder if I even have hands at this point, because when I try to reach them up and touch my face, I feel nothing. Besides the voice, only one thing seems to exist: a pinpoint of light I see in the dark ahead of me. It might be a tiny dot close by or an immense glow a million miles away. All I know is that moments ago, I somehow stepped into a hole in a magazine. And now I am hurtling—across space, underneath space, or maybe through no space at all. “Soon the universe will suck us back out into existence again, like being sucked through a straw,” the voice says. “Just let yourself relax. You don’t have to do a thing. It’ll feel squishy, but not painful.” The voice has just the slightest hint of a Spanish accent. Silence passes for a moment. Then, “I’m Wanda, by the way. Wanda Luna. Sorry we have to make our introductions as disembodied consciousnesses, but a mal tiempo, buena cara.” “Disembodied whats?” another voice chimes in. I think it’s Germ. “Oh! Here we go,” Wanda interjects. “It’s coming up. Try to squeeze yourselves together…” “Squeeze?” “Just, you know, tuck it all in. Like you’re trying to make yourself as small as possible. Better if you’re not all dangly.” I’m panicking now. I don’t know how to tuck myself in so that I’m not all dangly. I slurp in a deep breath as the pinprick of light grows from a dot to a softball to a sphere the size of a house, bright and blinding and beautiful. My toes get sucked toward it first. The pull gets more and more intense as it climbs up my feet, my ankles, my legs. And then the sound becomes deafening—there’s a whooshing as the light engulfs me. Up is down and down is up, and just when I think I’m hurtling up at a spinning starry sky, I find myself hurtling down toward all-too-solid land. I scream and a moment later hit the dirt, hard. There are several thuds around me as others make impact. Almost immediately Ebb is kneeling beside me, watching me with concern. He hasn’t hit the ground at all, since he’s a ghost. “Rosie,” Germ breathes, sitting up on the other side of me, shivering and catching her breath. It’s chilly, the air crisp and cool. “I feel like something’s gonna happen,” says Aria, who’s landed on her stomach, “but… no idea what.” And then she lurches forward and vomits. She wipes her mouth and says, “Okay. It happened.” A few others wretch, and then, on shaky legs, we stand, gaping at each other. “Everyone all right?” the woman named Wanda asks, brushing dust out of her dyed brick-red hair. We all nod, dazed. “It’s fine. I broke my fall with my face,” says Clara dryly, adjusting her hair back into its perfect bun. We are a gathering of dazed travelers. My best friend, Germ; and Ebb, who’s dead. My mom, Annabelle; my twin brother, Wolf. Aria and her big sister, Clara; and Wanda—the last two I only met a few minutes ago in the