Page 105 of All the Wandering Light

“That wasn’t what I said. That wasn’t what you promised.” My voice grew louder. “You agreed to leave whenever I asked. No matter what.”

Azar-at’s tail was no longer wagging. I—

“No.” I was shaking. “I’ve heard enough. Azar-at, I am telling you to leave.” I stood, though my trembling limbs protested. “Now.”

The creature let out another guttural growl. It seemed to have grown larger—where before its muzzle had reached my waist, now it reached my chest. Words pressed against my mind, but they were strange and disjointed, unlike Azar-at’s usual smooth murmur. The creature took a step toward me.

There came the sound of small paws descending the stone stairs. Ragtooth leaped lightly between us, his bushy tail flicking back and forth.

“Ragtooth, get out of the way,” I cried. I remembered too well what had happened the last time Ragtooth had challenged Azar-at.

Ragtooth, characteristically, ignored me. Azar-at took a step forward, and Ragtooth’s tan fur stood on end. He lowered his chin to the ground in a threatening posture. Then he darted forward and slashed Azar-at across the muzzle.

The fire demon let out another strange sound—a yip of pain and surprise. Actual scratches bloomed on its face. After a moment, they faded. Azar-at’s stance held a new wariness.

I stared at Ragtooth. Azar-at was a creature of smoke and fire, more substance than either but less than an actual wolf. It wasn’t flesh and blood—how had Ragtooth injured a being like that?

My thoughts flashed back to the ghosts on Raksha—Ragtooth had hurt one of them too, and they were dead. At the time, I had barely given it a thought.

You see what you want to see, Tem had said.

Azar-at was shaking—but with rage or fear, I couldn’t tell. To my horror, the fire demon began to grow again. Steam rose from the damp stone beneath it. The claws of pain tightened, and I fell back, gasping.

As Azar-at grew, a powerful heat wafted off its body. Azar-at had always seemed to possess an internal furnace, as if the creature were flame itself at the core. Now I felt as if I were on an exposed mountain peak at high summer, scorched by the midday sun. Terrified, I moved backward—up the stairs, lifting Lusha by her arms and dragging her with me.

Soon, the fire demon was twice the size it normally appeared, and it kept growing. It pressed an enormous paw onto the railing, as if it meant to leap up the stairs.

“Ragtooth!” I cried, my voice breaking. The fox was circling the fire demon’s legs, snapping and snarling, and my heart stopped as I realized that what had happened on Raksha would happen again—only this time, Ragtooth wouldn’t recover. Azar-at loomed over me, though it stood lower on the stairs. I would not have been surprised if sparks flew from its glowing eyes. It stepped closer.

Ragtooth’s jaw closed on the creature’s heel, tearing out a chunk of fur. Azar-at growled, and he was so large now that the sound send reverberations through the stone stairs. Ragtooth leaped onto the railing, his whiskers waving in the wind.

For the wind had picked up. I glanced up at the sky, expecting to see a looming storm, but there was nothing above us but a roof of stars. The wind rose, becoming so fierce that my eyes watered, and I feared Ragtooth would be blown off the railing. But he held firm, seeming completely untroubled. Azar-at, to my astonishment, had fallen back. The creature seemed to be having difficulty holding itself together; like the flame in an old campfire, it was fading, shrinking back into itself. It was not as large as it had been, but it was still enormous: easily twice the size of a yak.

Ragtooth leaped back onto the stairs, and the wind ceased so abruptly I fell backward—I had been bracing myself against the gale without even noticing. Ragtooth snapped at Azar-at, who showed no inclination to challenge him. Some of the heat seemed to have faded from the creature’s coal-like eyes, and I could see the stone through its body.

Suddenly, River was at my side, his arm around my shoulders. I caught a glimpse of feathers dissolving into black clothing, yellow owl’s eyes melting into River’s two-toned ones.

River’s eyes flicked over the scene—Lusha’s motionless body, Esha on the stairs below. Ragtooth with his fur still standing on end, crouched between me and Azar-at, who towered over us.

“Azar-at.” River’s voice was quiet. “It’s over. Go.”

For the space of a heartbeat, the creature seemed to freeze. You do not command me, River.

“I’m not commanding,” he said. He held the fire demon’s gaze. “We were friends once. Or have you forgotten?”

I forget nothing.

They looked at each other for a long moment. I felt afraid to move, or even to breathe.

Azar-at stood. Suddenly, somehow, it was wolf-sized again. I blinked, astonished, for I couldn’t recall the precise moment it had happened. Its tail wagged once, slowly. River held out his hand, and I thought for a moment he was casting a spell, but then Azar-at came forward and brushed its snout against his palm. I fell back, repulsed. Then the creature was simply gone.

The pain within me subsided, like a muscle unknotting itself. I sagged against River. I felt a strange sense of confusion, of lostness. I searched for the source of the feeling, and found none. Then I realized.

I couldn’t sense Azar-at anymore.

“It’s done,” I murmured.

River’s grip on me tightened. I buried my face in the crook of his neck, so filled with relief and exhaustion I didn’t think I would be able to stand.