The concept of this book - that the characters are these disparate threads that will weave together in time - is cute, but was never quite as tight as I wanted it to be. I wanted a clear, central thread that united all of the new characters. And truthfully, I wanted a less-is-more approach to the old characters. I wanted their intersections with the new cast to come as a pleasant surprise! I wanted the last seven years to be left to the imagination, allowing the reader to assume some happy adventures filled their lives before the next crisis rose. Instead, too much time was spent on the old guard's time skip, and how - more often than not - they had spent the last seven years suffering.

Lila, especially, comes off REALLY badly with all the backstory filled in: She doesn't love Kell but keeps him around out of...what... pity? Guilt? Trauma bond? She belittles his pain and depression, treating him like a bore and a crybaby. She uses her magic and other strengths to humiliate him, often against his will for her pleasure. She lies to him, replaces him as the self-righteous, worlds-policing Antarti...but she's still LILA, and has learned no self-restraint, no balance, no remorse, little compassion... She's insufferable and toxic. I hate to say it, but I was actually rooting for Berras to steal her powers, and give her a taste of how it feels. Holland and Kell sacrificed for the greater good. Lila keeps swanning on through like nothing will ever stick to her. She doesn't deserve to have everything and go unchecked. I wanted her to LOSE.

I think there were some HUGE missed opportunities to make the story tighter, instead of introducing more and more and more new characters. Why did Kell waste seven years becoming a sword fighter, knowing it would never be enough? Why didn't he leave Lila sooner to become a vigilante? He could have invented The Hand to draw out dissenters, and then sabotage them, like how he took out The Shadows. Why didn't Kell go full Batman, with magic-tech gadgets inspired by White and Grey London, returning to his roots as the guy who amasses illegal trinkets from all the worlds?
Why didn't Rhy attempt to follow in his father's footsteps, and develop an interest in magical metalworks, or runic defenses? Why didn't he become The Clockwork King, who designed a whole golem army so that no more lives be needlessly lost? Why didn't RHY invent the rings - inspired by the Antari rings - that could share power, so that he could use Alucard or Kell's magic? Why didn't Rhy accidentally invent a door between worlds after borrowing Antari power, and become obsessed with making magic equally available to the masses, instead of hoarded in the hands of the few (rationalizing that he was absolving Kell from having to be an ever-present superhero, and empowering his otherwise defenseless people)?
Why didn't this mutual obsession with who should have power, and how, drive a wedge between the inseparable brothers? Why didn't it bring any of the other Londons - especially Grey - into the foreground?!?!

Insteeeeead, this book tried to do a "strong female characters" thing that really backfired. Tes, Lila, Nadiya, Kosika, Ezril, and Bex are the heftiest part of this book, and there are too many similarities between them: Loners, ruthless, reckless, arrogant... Theirs isn't a story of empowerment; it's a story of entitlement. They threaten or manipulate their way out of consequences, and apologize to no one.

It's an odd jumble: To like - but not love - the book for what it introduces. To wish for both less and more.