War rages on in the exhilarating sequel to Spin of Fate, the young adult fantasy set in a world loosely inspired by karma. “Evocative of Sanderson and Pullman , yet at the same time shockingly original.” —Rosaria Munda, author of Fireborne, on Spin of Fate Mayana is burning. Following the rupture of the barrier protecting the peaceful upper realm, soldiers from the lower realm of Malin invade and wage war on the Mayani kingdoms. Born into scarcity, the soldiers crave the lives of abundance they’ve been deprived of since birth. Meanwhile, the authorities of the upper realms race to fend off their attacks—and the key to their success may rest in gaining control of the planetary beasts who created the realms. They attempt to recruit the Mayani princess and nature enthusiast Himalia to bond with a beast, a dangerous task that would earn her control of its powers. Himalia, who prefers the company of animals and books to humans, is unsettled by the idea of using another living being this way. After a life of disappointing her father, she should jump at the chance to bring honor to her family. But Himalia would rather be left in peace to continue her research, as she verges on a discovery that could change the tide of the war. As Himalia edges closer to her discovery, the former members of the Balancers, a disbanded rebel group bringing aid to the unfortunate, choose their sides in the conflict. A grief-stricken Aina seeks revenge against the leader of the Malini army, who killed her mother. A conflicted Aranel sides with the lowers, intent on fighting for equality even if it means going against his homeland. And Meizan, now returned to his Malini clan, navigates internal politics as he tries to keep his clansmen out of harm’s way. When the three teens cross paths, as the attack on Mayana reaches a boiling point, they must reckon with their old, fractured friendships and their new reality as enemies at war. ★ “ Intense, intricately wrought, and fascinating . . . A stellar follow-up fraught with political turmoil, violence, pain, and grief.” — Kirkus , starred review Ambika Vora-Nagino (writing as A. A. Vora) is an Indian Japanese author born in Mumbai and based in Tokyo. After receiving a bachelor’s in economics from Princeton University and an MBA from the University of Cambridge, she worked in management consulting with a focus on digital transformation and healthcare. Outside work, she is a fervid Naruto fan who enjoys competitive Pokémon battling with her husband, playing with her newborn, and going on runs with her spitz dog Fëanor. Aranel stretched out his arms, feet flat on the blade of his floating sword. The clouds were thick and smooth, like dollops of cream, and a gentle tailwind blew behind him. Peak racing conditions. At seven years old, Aranel was the youngest competitor in this heat of the junior cloudsurfing championships. But he was also the fastest. He had to be if he wanted to qualify for the final, then win the overall first-place prize in his age category. “Are you excited, Ran?” asked his mother. Her golden hair was threaded with magenta ribbons that matched Aranel’s cotton tunic. “I s’pose,” said Aranel. “What was Sam’s record again?” “How does it matter? You are not your brother.” Aranel’s shoulders slumped. “Don’t you want me to win?” “What I want,” said his mother, dropping a kiss on his forehead, “is for you to enjoy this race. Can you do that for me?” But you told Sam to win, thought Aranel, sword wobbling underfoot. Right before his race, I heard you. And then Samarel won, like he always did. Their mother clapped him on the back, like she always did. Her smile had been wide and warm, and bright as the sun above. Brighter than the smile she gave Aranel now. It hurt his chest looking at it. So he looked away and, instead, up at the sky. A small bird fluttered past, listing in the wind. One of its silver wings was bent. It’s injured! Aranel made to fly toward it before glancing at his mother. Someone else would heal the bird. He had a race to win. Aranel stilled his shaking knees and puffed out his chest. “Watch me, Ma,” he said with a grin. “I’ll enjoy every second.” “As you should.” His mother ruffled his hair. “Fly straight and swift, darling.” Then she kissed him, again , and went to join the other onlookers at the starting line. There were dozens of them arrayed across the Nisharani sky, floating on their own swords and shields as they waved the banners of their kingdoms and villages. To Aranel’s left, a girl in turquoise—one of the competitors from Amaratir—was bidding her parents goodbye. To his right, a curly-haired boy from Tahamur, dressed in saffron, stood all by himself. Where was his family? Why hadn’t his mother come to cheer him on? “Good luck,” called Aranel to the boy. The boy turned to him and grinned. “Don’t need it.” Aranel frowned. Everyone needed luck, unless they were a chitronic genius like Samarel. He was about to retort