The Loneliest Place
Autor Lora Senf Ilustrat de Alfredo Cáceresen Limba Engleză Paperback – 15 iul 2025 – vârsta până la 12 ani
Evie ventures into the Dark Sun Side to rescue her loved ones, only to discover truths darker than she could have ever imagined in this “riveting and wildly imaginative” (Kirkus Reviews) finale to the Blight Harbor series that’s perfect for fans of Doll Bones and Small Spaces.
As summer comes to an end, Evie Von Rathe is determined to begin the search for her parents in earnest. Armed with her knowledge of the otherworldly, her mom’s violet glasses, and a pendant full of doors, Evie begins to piece together clues. When she realizes her mother’s bedtime story might be a roadmap to finding them, Evie follows it back to the Dark Sun Side.
But stories are funny things, and they change from one teller to the next.
The black nothing of the Radix is waiting, and it knows more than it’s ever let on. Evie will need every bit of courage she has for what’s coming. With Bird at her side, and maybe even a reluctant Lark as well, Evie has what she hopes is her last adventure under a purple sky.
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| Atheneum Books for Young Readers – 15 iul 2025 | 48.67 lei 26-38 zile | +25.54 lei 6-12 zile |
| Hardback (1) | 101.05 lei 22-36 zile | |
| Atheneum Books for Young Readers – 17 sep 2024 | 101.05 lei 22-36 zile |
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Specificații
ISBN-13: 9781665934619
ISBN-10: 1665934611
Pagini: 384
Ilustrații: f-c (sfx: spot gloss); matte+b-w int art (spot+abt 8 full pcs); digital
Dimensiuni: 132 x 191 x 30 mm
Greutate: 0.26 kg
Ediția:Reprint edition
Editura: Atheneum Books for Young Readers
ISBN-10: 1665934611
Pagini: 384
Ilustrații: f-c (sfx: spot gloss); matte+b-w int art (spot+abt 8 full pcs); digital
Dimensiuni: 132 x 191 x 30 mm
Greutate: 0.26 kg
Ediția:Reprint edition
Editura: Atheneum Books for Young Readers
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Notă biografică
Lora Senf is a writer of dark and twisty stories for all ages. She is the author of The Clackity, Bram Stoker Award winner The Nighthouse Keeper, The Loneliest Place, and Pennies. She credits her love of words to her parents and to the public library that was walking distance from her childhood home. Lora finds inspiration for her writing in her children’s retellings of their dreams, on road trips through Montana, and most recently while reminiscing about summer days spent on her bike. She lives in eastern Washington with her husband, their twins, and two remarkably lazy cats. Visit her at LoraSenf.com.
Extras
Chapter 1
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For some people, bravery is a thing they have at their fingertips, ready and waiting to be called on.
I was not one of those people.
Every time I got done using my bravery, I immediately misplaced it and had to go looking the next time I needed it. And then, once I did find it, covered in cobwebs and dust bunnies, I’d have to remember how it worked all over again.
I was in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to remember how to use my bravery but so anxious that I was basically vibrating. I couldn’t even read, and sleep was totally out of the question. I hadn’t bothered getting changed and was still in the jeans and grey tank top I’d been wearing all day. Bird flew in nervous circles around my neck, and I kept patting him and rubbing the top of his head with a fingertip.
I needed Bird calm and sure, not fidgety and restless like me. When my little buddy was nervous, I got even more nervous, which was the opposite of helpful. Right then I needed all the calm and sure I could get, because I was about to do something that scared me a lot. Something I knew Aunt Des would never, ever let me do. Especially on my own. Which was why I hadn’t told her.
Which was also why, beneath the nervous bubbling in my chest, I was feeling the sludge of guilt settling in my stomach. I’d been dodging Des lately because I knew if I told her what I was planning to do she’d try to stop me or, worse, get hurt trying to help me. So I’d been spending a lot of time avoiding her because that was better than lying to her. We didn’t lie to each other, me and Des. And I wasn’t lying, not exactly. But I sure wasn’t being open and honest, either.
The familiar sounds of my aunt getting ready for bed drifted into my room. Then eventually nothing but the noises old houses make after a long day. By eleven o’clock, I knew Des had probably been asleep for an hour.
It was time.
Sitting up, I pulled on my black All Stars, slipped my backpack over my shoulder, and walked softly across the room to my dresser. The only light in my bedroom came from a small, moon-shaped night-light plugged in low on one wall. It was enough—I knew exactly where the Nighthouse Keeper’s necklace was: third dresser drawer, back right corner.
The brass chain was cold on the back of my neck as I slipped it on over my head. The black, stone, rectangular pendant—half the size of a playing card—hung heavy, just like I remembered. It had been a miracle I’d even managed to get the necklace—I’d thought I’d only managed to grab Portia’s long, greasy hair as she’d leapt through the window, chasing her own soul as it disappeared into the Radix. The memory of the bleak despair I’d felt that night washed over me like a filthy grey wave.
Sure you’re ready? Bird’s voice in my head, soft as it was, startled me in the quiet of the room.
“No, but maybe I never will be,” I whispered back.
Bird brushed my shoulder with a comforting wing. I thought for the millionth time how grateful I was to have my little buddy with me.
I’d used the necklace only once before. In my memory, the effect had been silent, and I was trusting it would be now. I held the black stone up to my mouth and spoke softly (but politely, as the Radix had instructed me). “I need a regular-sized door to the Dark Sun Side, please. Someplace safe where nothing can hurt me or eat me. And where I won’t get lost and can come right back home. Please.” I added that second please just to be safe.
The words were barely out of my mouth when I felt a shift in the air behind me. There was, thankfully, no noise. Just the sense something was there that hadn’t been a moment before.
I turned to find a door in the middle of my bedroom. It was a soft, honeyed brown with silver hinges and a fancy silver knob. When I laid my hand flat against it, warmth like spring sunshine radiated from the wood.
It’s the same, Bird said.
He was right, it was. This was the same door that had appeared the only other time I’d used the necklace. I’d called a door to take me and Lark and the stolen ghosts from the Dark Sun Side back to the Old School. Back to Blight Harbor. Back home.
It made me feel a little better—a little more confident—knowing this was the door that had taken care of me and my friends once before. The Dark Sun Side, with its purple sky and unpredictable logic, wasn’t a place I wanted to be stuck in again, so it was good to know that I could come home when I was ready.
“I’ll be right back, Des. I promise,” I whispered, hoping it was true.
I took a deep-but-shaking breath and opened the door. What I saw on the other side did not make me feel better or more confident.
A hallway stretched out past the doorway. It smelled of old wood and fresh dirt and was well lit but had no windows and no visible light source. The corridor was long, far too long to fit into our house. This was the same hallway Portia had taken me down when she’d first tricked me into following her to the Dark Sun Side. I recognized it immediately and nearly quit right then.
Except.
Except I’d finally worked up the courage to use Portia’s pendant and I wasn’t sure I could do it again if I closed the door now.
Except Portia was gone, and I knew it, and maybe this was just how the pendant worked.
Except I was tired of waiting.
It was time to find my parents.
Des didn’t know what I’d found in the Nighthouse—the glasses and the book that proved my parents were still alive. No one knew, because I hadn’t told them. I wasn’t putting anyone else at risk, and I knew that if Des or Lily or Lark knew what I was up to, they’d never let me go alone.
My parents are probably still alive, I reminded myself. Probably. You can’t know for sure.
My heart disagreed with my brain, but my brain was what I had to listen to right now. I couldn’t let my hope get too big or too sure of itself. If it did, and I was wrong, I didn’t think I could ever get past losing Mom and Dad all over again.
With another shaky-deep breath I stepped through the friendly door into the suspicious hallway. Like last time, the air wasn’t still, but there was no longer a cold, stinging wind ripping down the hall. Instead, a strong but perfectly pleasant rose-and-gasoline-scented breeze drifted through the threshold. And there was one other major difference this time around: the hallway was no longer lined with doors and paintings. Now there was only one of each—a door just a few feet down on the right-hand side, with a single painting hanging next to it.
Perched on my collarbone, Bird was tense and alert, his claws digging in just the tiniest bit. He was wary, but he wasn’t telling me to turn and run. That was sort of promising.
I made my way to the lone door, quiet as could be and ready to run at the first sign of a trick or a trap. My heart was in my throat and my hands were sweaty but, all in all, I was keeping it together pretty well. This door was just like the one I’d—called? summoned? politely requested?—from Portia’s necklace. It was made of the same warm wood, which I now realized was the same color as the walls of the hallway, with an ornate handle. Aside from being a door in a hallway that once belonged to a monster that had almost stolen the souls of my friends, there was nothing scary or suspicious about it.
Hanging to the right of the doorframe was a large canvas with a painting I couldn’t quite decipher. The whole thing was washed in irregular greens with bright spots of various colors scattered throughout. I stared for a while, leaning a bit closer, then stepping back, trying to get the perspective that would make it clear for me.
“What do you think?” I asked Bird. It felt strange to use my voice in that hallway, almost like I was announcing my presence. “It kind of looks like a field full of wildflowers except all blurry. Almost like you’re looking through a rainy window.”
Bird shrugged. He was clearly not an art enthusiast.
“You’re no help,” I said, but I wasn’t mad at him. I was pretty sure I was right. Or at least I was close. “Do we go through the door?”
Before he could answer, I added, “I know, I know. I have to decide. It’s my journey, not yours. Do it for myself, blah blah blah.”
He nodded and ignored my not-very-witty sarcasm.
I put my hand on the knob. It was warm—not hot, more of a sun-warmed-on-a-spring-day feeling. I was a half second from opening the door when something rattled the handle from the other side. My skin rose up in goose bumps and every part of me froze, including the hand on the doorknob. Before I could let it go it rattled again, harder this time, and then I did release it.
I stepped back so quickly I ran into the wall on the other side of the hallway. My breath caught in ragged little gasps.
“Run?” I asked Bird.
Run, he agreed.
It took just seconds to get through the door that led home. Back in my bedroom, I panted like I’d run a race. I waited for the door to disappear like it had done in the past, but it stood there, open, the hallway clear as day on the other side.
“Why is it still here?” My brain was in full panic mode. I thought of Des coming in and finding the door, confirming that I hadn’t been honest with her. I thought of whoever or whatever had rattled that knob following me through. I thought a whirlwind of worse and worse things until Bird interrupted me.
You have to close it and say thank you, he said.
Of course.
I swung the door shut, careful at just the last second to close it gently rather than slam it like I wanted to. “Thank you,” I whispered. “We’re done now.”
And with that, my portal to the Dark Sun Side was gone.
I dropped my backpack to the floor and then collapsed onto the edge of my bed, every part of me shaking.
If my heart was right and they were still alive, I had to find my parents.
But what if it was wrong—what if I was wrong? What if they weren’t alive and hadn’t been for the last four years? What if I went back to the Dark Sun Side and this time I couldn’t outrun or outwit whatever it was that would be waiting for me (and I knew something would be waiting for me)?
What if I couldn’t do this?
I couldn’t do this.
Not without more help.
I had to talk to someone, but everyone I could think of was out of the question. Des, Lily, even Lark—they would all try to stop me, and that wasn’t the kind of help I needed. I needed someone to tell me what to do. Someone with experience on the Dark Sun Side.
That’s when I noticed something shining on my discarded backpack. It was the round, black enamel pin I’d stuck on the fabric a few weeks earlier.
The pin that looked just like a black sun that hung in a purple sky.
The pin given to me by Irv, the unrememberable man who had apparently been to the Dark Sun Side and back more than anyone else, who had given me a strange sort of pep talk the last time I’d returned. Irv was hard to remember, but the words he’d said to me were etched in my brain: You need to trust yourself to know what is worth sacrificing for and how much you’re willing to give. And even the possibility of finding my parents was definitely worth the sacrifice.
I grabbed the pad of paper off my nightstand and left myself a note—it would be at least another day until I could see Irv, and I knew there was a really good chance I’d forget all about it.
Talk to Irv about the DSS.
He’s the one in the orange hat.
He might help.
1
For some people, bravery is a thing they have at their fingertips, ready and waiting to be called on.
I was not one of those people.
Every time I got done using my bravery, I immediately misplaced it and had to go looking the next time I needed it. And then, once I did find it, covered in cobwebs and dust bunnies, I’d have to remember how it worked all over again.
I was in bed staring at the ceiling, trying to remember how to use my bravery but so anxious that I was basically vibrating. I couldn’t even read, and sleep was totally out of the question. I hadn’t bothered getting changed and was still in the jeans and grey tank top I’d been wearing all day. Bird flew in nervous circles around my neck, and I kept patting him and rubbing the top of his head with a fingertip.
I needed Bird calm and sure, not fidgety and restless like me. When my little buddy was nervous, I got even more nervous, which was the opposite of helpful. Right then I needed all the calm and sure I could get, because I was about to do something that scared me a lot. Something I knew Aunt Des would never, ever let me do. Especially on my own. Which was why I hadn’t told her.
Which was also why, beneath the nervous bubbling in my chest, I was feeling the sludge of guilt settling in my stomach. I’d been dodging Des lately because I knew if I told her what I was planning to do she’d try to stop me or, worse, get hurt trying to help me. So I’d been spending a lot of time avoiding her because that was better than lying to her. We didn’t lie to each other, me and Des. And I wasn’t lying, not exactly. But I sure wasn’t being open and honest, either.
The familiar sounds of my aunt getting ready for bed drifted into my room. Then eventually nothing but the noises old houses make after a long day. By eleven o’clock, I knew Des had probably been asleep for an hour.
It was time.
Sitting up, I pulled on my black All Stars, slipped my backpack over my shoulder, and walked softly across the room to my dresser. The only light in my bedroom came from a small, moon-shaped night-light plugged in low on one wall. It was enough—I knew exactly where the Nighthouse Keeper’s necklace was: third dresser drawer, back right corner.
The brass chain was cold on the back of my neck as I slipped it on over my head. The black, stone, rectangular pendant—half the size of a playing card—hung heavy, just like I remembered. It had been a miracle I’d even managed to get the necklace—I’d thought I’d only managed to grab Portia’s long, greasy hair as she’d leapt through the window, chasing her own soul as it disappeared into the Radix. The memory of the bleak despair I’d felt that night washed over me like a filthy grey wave.
Sure you’re ready? Bird’s voice in my head, soft as it was, startled me in the quiet of the room.
“No, but maybe I never will be,” I whispered back.
Bird brushed my shoulder with a comforting wing. I thought for the millionth time how grateful I was to have my little buddy with me.
I’d used the necklace only once before. In my memory, the effect had been silent, and I was trusting it would be now. I held the black stone up to my mouth and spoke softly (but politely, as the Radix had instructed me). “I need a regular-sized door to the Dark Sun Side, please. Someplace safe where nothing can hurt me or eat me. And where I won’t get lost and can come right back home. Please.” I added that second please just to be safe.
The words were barely out of my mouth when I felt a shift in the air behind me. There was, thankfully, no noise. Just the sense something was there that hadn’t been a moment before.
I turned to find a door in the middle of my bedroom. It was a soft, honeyed brown with silver hinges and a fancy silver knob. When I laid my hand flat against it, warmth like spring sunshine radiated from the wood.
It’s the same, Bird said.
He was right, it was. This was the same door that had appeared the only other time I’d used the necklace. I’d called a door to take me and Lark and the stolen ghosts from the Dark Sun Side back to the Old School. Back to Blight Harbor. Back home.
It made me feel a little better—a little more confident—knowing this was the door that had taken care of me and my friends once before. The Dark Sun Side, with its purple sky and unpredictable logic, wasn’t a place I wanted to be stuck in again, so it was good to know that I could come home when I was ready.
“I’ll be right back, Des. I promise,” I whispered, hoping it was true.
I took a deep-but-shaking breath and opened the door. What I saw on the other side did not make me feel better or more confident.
A hallway stretched out past the doorway. It smelled of old wood and fresh dirt and was well lit but had no windows and no visible light source. The corridor was long, far too long to fit into our house. This was the same hallway Portia had taken me down when she’d first tricked me into following her to the Dark Sun Side. I recognized it immediately and nearly quit right then.
Except.
Except I’d finally worked up the courage to use Portia’s pendant and I wasn’t sure I could do it again if I closed the door now.
Except Portia was gone, and I knew it, and maybe this was just how the pendant worked.
Except I was tired of waiting.
It was time to find my parents.
Des didn’t know what I’d found in the Nighthouse—the glasses and the book that proved my parents were still alive. No one knew, because I hadn’t told them. I wasn’t putting anyone else at risk, and I knew that if Des or Lily or Lark knew what I was up to, they’d never let me go alone.
My parents are probably still alive, I reminded myself. Probably. You can’t know for sure.
My heart disagreed with my brain, but my brain was what I had to listen to right now. I couldn’t let my hope get too big or too sure of itself. If it did, and I was wrong, I didn’t think I could ever get past losing Mom and Dad all over again.
With another shaky-deep breath I stepped through the friendly door into the suspicious hallway. Like last time, the air wasn’t still, but there was no longer a cold, stinging wind ripping down the hall. Instead, a strong but perfectly pleasant rose-and-gasoline-scented breeze drifted through the threshold. And there was one other major difference this time around: the hallway was no longer lined with doors and paintings. Now there was only one of each—a door just a few feet down on the right-hand side, with a single painting hanging next to it.
Perched on my collarbone, Bird was tense and alert, his claws digging in just the tiniest bit. He was wary, but he wasn’t telling me to turn and run. That was sort of promising.
I made my way to the lone door, quiet as could be and ready to run at the first sign of a trick or a trap. My heart was in my throat and my hands were sweaty but, all in all, I was keeping it together pretty well. This door was just like the one I’d—called? summoned? politely requested?—from Portia’s necklace. It was made of the same warm wood, which I now realized was the same color as the walls of the hallway, with an ornate handle. Aside from being a door in a hallway that once belonged to a monster that had almost stolen the souls of my friends, there was nothing scary or suspicious about it.
Hanging to the right of the doorframe was a large canvas with a painting I couldn’t quite decipher. The whole thing was washed in irregular greens with bright spots of various colors scattered throughout. I stared for a while, leaning a bit closer, then stepping back, trying to get the perspective that would make it clear for me.
“What do you think?” I asked Bird. It felt strange to use my voice in that hallway, almost like I was announcing my presence. “It kind of looks like a field full of wildflowers except all blurry. Almost like you’re looking through a rainy window.”
Bird shrugged. He was clearly not an art enthusiast.
“You’re no help,” I said, but I wasn’t mad at him. I was pretty sure I was right. Or at least I was close. “Do we go through the door?”
Before he could answer, I added, “I know, I know. I have to decide. It’s my journey, not yours. Do it for myself, blah blah blah.”
He nodded and ignored my not-very-witty sarcasm.
I put my hand on the knob. It was warm—not hot, more of a sun-warmed-on-a-spring-day feeling. I was a half second from opening the door when something rattled the handle from the other side. My skin rose up in goose bumps and every part of me froze, including the hand on the doorknob. Before I could let it go it rattled again, harder this time, and then I did release it.
I stepped back so quickly I ran into the wall on the other side of the hallway. My breath caught in ragged little gasps.
“Run?” I asked Bird.
Run, he agreed.
It took just seconds to get through the door that led home. Back in my bedroom, I panted like I’d run a race. I waited for the door to disappear like it had done in the past, but it stood there, open, the hallway clear as day on the other side.
“Why is it still here?” My brain was in full panic mode. I thought of Des coming in and finding the door, confirming that I hadn’t been honest with her. I thought of whoever or whatever had rattled that knob following me through. I thought a whirlwind of worse and worse things until Bird interrupted me.
You have to close it and say thank you, he said.
Of course.
I swung the door shut, careful at just the last second to close it gently rather than slam it like I wanted to. “Thank you,” I whispered. “We’re done now.”
And with that, my portal to the Dark Sun Side was gone.
I dropped my backpack to the floor and then collapsed onto the edge of my bed, every part of me shaking.
If my heart was right and they were still alive, I had to find my parents.
But what if it was wrong—what if I was wrong? What if they weren’t alive and hadn’t been for the last four years? What if I went back to the Dark Sun Side and this time I couldn’t outrun or outwit whatever it was that would be waiting for me (and I knew something would be waiting for me)?
What if I couldn’t do this?
I couldn’t do this.
Not without more help.
I had to talk to someone, but everyone I could think of was out of the question. Des, Lily, even Lark—they would all try to stop me, and that wasn’t the kind of help I needed. I needed someone to tell me what to do. Someone with experience on the Dark Sun Side.
That’s when I noticed something shining on my discarded backpack. It was the round, black enamel pin I’d stuck on the fabric a few weeks earlier.
The pin that looked just like a black sun that hung in a purple sky.
The pin given to me by Irv, the unrememberable man who had apparently been to the Dark Sun Side and back more than anyone else, who had given me a strange sort of pep talk the last time I’d returned. Irv was hard to remember, but the words he’d said to me were etched in my brain: You need to trust yourself to know what is worth sacrificing for and how much you’re willing to give. And even the possibility of finding my parents was definitely worth the sacrifice.
I grabbed the pad of paper off my nightstand and left myself a note—it would be at least another day until I could see Irv, and I knew there was a really good chance I’d forget all about it.
Talk to Irv about the DSS.
He’s the one in the orange hat.
He might help.
Recenzii
"Senf’s storytelling is riveting and wildly imaginative, and her story is populated with unique, otherworldly creatures and characters. Evie’s death-defying crusade makes for a satisfying, compelling closing to the series. A fitting finale for a top-notch series."
Descriere
In this thrilling finale to the Blight Harbor series, Evie ventures into the Dark Sun Side to rescue her parents and discovers truths darker than she could have ever imagined.