Excerpt from The Otherwhere Post by Emily J. Taylor, plus links to reviews, author biography & more

Mr. Braithwaite didn't seem to notice her reaction. His eyes were lost in his wife's face. "Una preferred the Inverly haberdashers, with their colorful spools of thread. She had an appointment to visit one two blocks from Blackcaster Station that very afternoon. I've always wondered if she tried running for Leyland and simply didn't make it."

Blackcaster Station was no train station. It once housed the two great Written ­Doors—­doors people used to travel back and forth between the three known worlds. Once, you could leave a university lecture in Gloam in Barrow, have dinner in Gloam in Inverly, then visit a tavern here in Gloam in Leyland, all in a single evening. Until one terrifying afternoon seven years ago.

"I'm so sorry," Maeve managed through a tight throat.

She had been in Inverly that afternoon as well, and thinking of it never failed to send her back to the moments of terror she'd ­experienced—­people screaming, everyone running to escape. She was one of the lucky ­ones—­close enough to Blackcaster Station to dart inside and make it through to Leyland before it was too late.

Minutes after she escaped Inverly, the Written Door between the two worlds was burned to cinders, obliterating its magic. Then the fire spread to the other Written Door connecting Barrow and Leyland, burning it as well, stranding thousands on either side. By the time the smoke cleared, everyone had learned the truth: that Inverly was destroyed and everyone inside of it was gone forever. Just like that. Barrow and Leyland were both spared, but with the doors burned, all travel was cut off instantly, stranding everyone wherever they happened to be. Trapping Maeve in godforsaken Leyland all by herself.

In the wake of Inverly's destruction, the House of Ministers recruited specialists to try to repair the Written Door connecting Ley­land and Barrow. The effort was intended to help those stranded in the wrong world to return home, but nothing came of it. Now the only people able to cross between Leyland and Barrow were couriers trained in the magical art of scriptomancy, delivering precious letters to those desperate to hear from their loved ones.

Maeve never hoped for a letter herself. Everyone she loved had been in Inverly.

Tears burned the backs of her eyes, and the memories of that afternoon threatened to swallow her. When Mr. Braithwaite failed to stop his weeping, Maeve couldn't stand it anymore. She unwrapped a sheet of tissue from around a quill and tossed it to him, then turned to face the wall.

Breathe, she told herself.

Mr. Braithwaite didn't mention Inverly again, thankfully. He wiped his cheeks, then stepped to his worktable, where he proceeded to open today's copy of theHerald and give Maeve a rundown of the news, along with his delightfully pessimistic commentary.

Professor's Row was being ­repaved—­two years too late! The Ley­land campus of the university hired new ­faculty—­but they were all snobs with wallets bigger than their brains. A tavern in Old Town caught fire, but no one was ­hurt—­a miracle considering the festering buildings. On and on it went.

"Ah. There's actually something interesting from the Otherwhere Post," he said.

Maeve glanced up. The paper was opened to the back page, where Postmaster Byrne's newsletter was printed weekly.

"Would you look at this. Old Byrne has announced that the backlog of letters from the months after the Written Doors burned are finally being sent out. My sister wrote me from Barrow some twenty times all those years ago. Wouldn't it be something to get her letters now?"

"Without a doubt." At least Maeve knew that none of those old letters were for her.

Excerpted from The Otherwhere Post by Emily J. Taylor. Copyright © 2025 by Emily J. Taylor. Excerpted by permission of G.P. Putnam's Sons. All rights reserved. No part of this excerpt may be reproduced or reprinted without permission in writing from the publisher.