Page 94 of All the Wandering Light

“Would you care to test that theory yourself? I’d be happy to lend a hand.” River’s eyes drifted over the other witches, to a shadowy rampart suspended in midair. “What have you done, Esha?”

“I’ve done nothing,” Esha said. “You did.”

River gazed at him blankly. In the distance there were shouts and cries, the sound of glass breaking. But here, at the center of it all, nobody spoke. The air sang with tension. I could just make out a sliver of the emperor’s face through the ranks of his guards, contorted with fury and pain. The guards’ eyes flicked warily between Esha and River. The young guard watched him almost beseechingly. My grip on River’s arm tightened.

“Our ancestral home,” Esha murmured. “It’s beautiful, isn’t it? It will be even more beautiful after we raze this palace to the ground. Can’t you see it? A city of darkness, perched in the Empire’s ruins.”

“I don’t see how I—” River began.

“You woke it,” Esha said. “Unintentionally, I’m sure. Our city isn’t a pile of stones and useless finery, like this place. It sensed the Empire was falling, and a new one rising to take its place. But it couldn’t truly reawaken on its own. Nor could those who once lived there, so many centuries ago, walk again. But with the star’s power . . .”

I shuddered as Esha’s words sunk in. I looked at the emperor. He gripped his side, blood spilling through his fingers. It didn’t look like a sword wound. His arm had been clawed too—one of the witches had attacked him in animal form.

River’s gaze had found the emperor too, and his expression was grim. Esha’s lip curled. “Do you truly care about the life of the man who sentenced us to exile and torment?” he said. “I was right about you—you are a traitor. Sky would be ashamed.”

At the mention of Sky, River’s expression grew so cold that I took a step back. The faces of the courtiers and guards, as their eyes moved from River to Esha, were uncomprehending.

“Ah, but I forgot,” Esha said, “you’re a traitor here too.” He gestured. “Bring her to me.”

A witch with long, lank hair came forward, a captive in tow. My heart stopped.

Lusha.

She didn’t struggle against the witch, though he dragged her roughly. Her golden dress rippled like fire. When the witch tossed her into Esha’s grasp, she barely stumbled, and gave the first witch a glare so fierce he actually flinched.

Esha took Lusha’s hand, as if he was going to escort her somewhere. As he looked her up and down, there was a quality in his gaze that disgusted me. “This is one of the shamans you helped in the Ashes, isn’t it? You allowed her to escape, to bring the star to the emperor, which no doubt was your plan all along.” His filthy nails dug into Lusha’s skin, hard enough to raise droplets of blood. Lusha didn’t flinch, merely stood there as Esha drew something from a fold in his ragged cloak—

The star. It was as lifeless as ever—a fragment of stone, gray and unremarkable.

“Doesn’t look like much, does it?” Esha said. “Shall we test its power?”

The star began to glow against his palm, burning with the dark orange hue of witch fire. Then—

Light flooded the hall. I forced myself not to look away, but to squint through the brightness. Esha drew a shadow over the star, muting but not extinguishing its glow.

A murmur rose through the hall. The guards stared at each other. Shadowy figures wove their way between them, while a dark wall reared up out of nothingness, momentarily separating us from the emperor. One of the figures flitted into the shadow-tower that leaned at the edge of the hall, which seemed to be growing more solid by the minute.

“Esha—” River began.

“The Three Cities will burn.” Esha smiled. “And a new city will rise from the ashes. The sky city is coming back to life. And so are the people who lived there.”

I stared at the shadow-figures in horror. It was difficult to guess their number; they flickered in and out of existence like the towers and doors of the sky city. But more kept appearing as the star pulsed in Esha’s hand.

One of the shadows paused at Esha’s side. It had solidified enough for me to tell that it was a woman, her hair undulating around her face. But the way she stood was strange, puppet-like, and her proportions were all wrong. How long had she been dead? I felt a wave of nausea.

Esha’s mouth curved. “Let’s see what they can do.”

The shadow surged forward, moving with a jerky, insect-like grace. I leaped back instinctively, but another witch was there. He shoved me forward, laughing, but River caught me in his arms before I fell.

I screamed as darkness engulfed us, darkness that warped and stretched, forming a curving wall with the texture of stone. We were trapped within a round tower that had simply appeared in the banquet hall, as suddenly as the other apparitions. Terrified, I pounded my fists against the shadow-wall, but it barely wavered. Lusha was on the other side of that wall.

River cursed. He was looking up, having heard something I had not. I followed his gaze—two more dead were thundering down shadow-steps that wound up the tower. They made a noise that was like boots against stone, and yet oddly echoing, as if the sound were carried across a distance that did not exist.

“Go!” River shouted.

“Go?” Where could I go? There was solid shadow all around us. And yet, as I watched, the marble floor of the banquet hall seemed to shimmer like heat haze. More steps appeared, descending through the floor itself, coiling into what I assumed was the hillside below the palace. I stared, unable to comprehend it.

River had no such hesitation. He leaped past me, through the floor, which was suddenly as immaterial as cloud, dragging me behind him. The shadow-steps bore our weight, though I had the sense that they were resisting me. They felt sticky, somehow, as if reluctant to allow me passage.