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I saw Kiki first, sailing triumphantly at their helm. Moonlight clung to the silvery-gold patterns on her wings, making them gleam. She let out a whoop, and six cranes dove under me, catching me with their long necks. In their beaks were the remains of my birthday jacket and gown, spread just wide enough to hold me.
I rolled onto my old robes, clasping their folds. “Kiki, I’ve never been so happy to see anyone!”
I told you to always call for me first, she said smugly. Can’t have you dying. That’d be the end of me too.
Something like a laugh climbed up my throat. “Thank you, my dearest friend.”
It was like old times again, me clutching the edges of a tattered blanket, my brothers testing the fringes of life and death. But usually we were running away. Not so today.
“We have to go back!” I yelled to my brothers. But I needn’t have said anything.
They were already on their way.
Sea foam curled up against the coast of Lapzur. From the air, the island looked like a ghostly hand, with five skeletal fingers extending off the mainland. Instead of bones and knuckles were escarpments and cliffs and veins of icy lake water that churned between the land masses.
Winged demons loomed over the crags as we approached the tower. They’d been slavering with anticipation for us to return, and once we pierced the fog into the island, they barreled forth.
The demons were fast. My brothers had no chance of outflying them, or of fighting them—not while they bore my weight. Andahai was commanding the other cranes to fly higher and faster and me to lie low. But I couldn’t stay. I had to face Bandur.
I whistled for Kiki and the seven paper birds. Before I lost my nerve, I leapt.
Kiki and the birds caught my feet with their wings. They rearranged themselves into a tenuous bridge, and I sprinted to the tower.
I vaulted onto the roof, landing steps away from Takkan. He was floating over a stone well. Dark blood streaked his face, a gold and silvery light shimmering around his silhouette.
My stomach dropped. This was the moment I’d seen in the Tears of Emuri’en.
When Takkan saw me, his fingers uncurled at his side and his lips parted. But he didn’t speak. He had not the strength.
“Let him go,” I choked, spying Bandur lurking behind the well.
“Were I still human, I might be touched by this sentimental display,” replied the demon. “But alas. Don’t look so pained, Shiori. I haven’t taken his soul yet. Not that the boy hasn’t offered—he would give up his life for you. Unfortunately, it is not his life that interests me.”
It was mine.
“Will you come to me now in peace?” Bandur asked mockingly as he flexed his claws over Takkan’s throat. “Or will you spring at me in vengeance when I rip him apart?”
“Shiori,” whispered Takkan hoarsely. “No!”
“Give me your word that no demon will harm Takkan,” I said through gritted teeth. “Or my brothers.”
Bandur touched his amulet. “This I can promise.”
The chains holding Takkan vanished, and he dropped onto the flagstones. I didn’t get a chance to go to him before the demons tossed his limp body to my brothers in the sky and invisible shackles bound my wrists and dragged me to the well.
“Takkan!” I screamed.
I was lifted high above the well and tipped forward so I could see the dark abyss swirling beneath, awaiting my fall. I couldn’t twist, I couldn’t turn, and when I tried to summon my magic, the chains around my neck tightened until I couldn’t breathe.
Bandur stalked up from behind and pressed his cheek to mine. At his touch, I went hollow. His fur prickled like icy needles against my skin, numbing my every sense.
“I will say,” he drawled, “all that time in the mountains gave me many hours to think.” His amulet swung from his neck, taunting me as I reached for it in vain. “It was a puzzle figuring out how to deal with that pearl of yours, but my patience has been rewarded.”
I wasn’t listening. I was silently calling for the pearl, over and over. It had to help me against Bandur—the way it had against Lady Solzaya. But where was it?
“Are you paying attention, Shiori’anma?” Bandur tugged on his amulet, and the chains around me tightened until I arched with pain. He snickered. “I’ve been told you were not a diligent student of history. Yet you know what lies within this well, don’t you?”
I had no choice but to look. The stones seemed to stretch forever—deeper even than the tower was tall. Gen had been so impassioned about the blood of stars, I’d expected something spectacular of its well. A dazzling display to eclipse the beauty of winter’s first snowfall, to carry the colors of the universe.
