And she was not alone.
The Sleeper stood in front of her, breathing heavily, his hand thrust out. Whorls of darkness swirled around them.
“Suyodhana,” said Krithika Shah, taking a tentative step toward him. There was a world of feeling on her face.
“Why?” asked the Sleeper, staring down at Krithika with haunted eyes. “Why is it that no matter what happens, I can’t seem to stop caring? I couldn’t let it—”
He gestured at the rocks, which had now been reduced to sand by his own powers. Not far away, Aru saw Nikita locked in combat with Kara near the nectar of immortality. A cage of thorns closed up around them, cutting off all visibility.
“It doesn’t have to be like this, Suyodhana,” said Krithika. “Maybe there is some truth, after all, in starting over…but not like this. Not with so much damage. Not with Time overturned and the world laid to waste.”
“I cannot see any other way,” said the Sleeper, his voice hollow. His eyes met Krithika’s, and a fragile wonder snuck into Aru’s thoughts. When he had lassoed Aru and thrown her backward, had it been because he’d wanted to keep her out of harm’s way? Was the real reason he hadn’t drunk the nectar of immortality because…because he couldn’t bear to do it?
Was it possible that he might change? Was this, perhaps, the solution she’d been looking for? That all would somehow be restored, and her parents might even find some way back to joy?
“Then let us help you see,” said Krithika, holding out her hand. Her wedding ring glimmered there, and Suyodhana looked up at her.
His hand lifted.
Something shot out of the air. Light flashed. The illumination threw her mother into stark relief, and as the object met its target, Aru screamed with all that was left in her soul.
Kara had always thought the phrase “ignorance is bliss” was weak. The full line was “Where ignorance is bliss, ’tis folly to be wise,” and it came from a 1742 poem by Thomas Gray. Kara knew this because she loved to read. She loved to wander through imaginary worlds. She loved the fact that with a book in her hand, she could be a warmhearted princess and a quick-witted heroine and a complicated sorceress between breakfast and dinner. She loved how knowledge let her mind travel across thousands of miles and hundreds of years, all while she was curled snugly in her blanket.
Knowledge had always made Kara feel fuller.
Until now.
“You,” she said, her voice coming out like a croak. “It was you the whole time…in the dreams.”
Sheela stood five feet away from her, wearing a silver T-shirt dress, striped tights, and platform sneakers. Her braids were gathered into a bun on her head that was held together with a silver ribbon. She looked like she was dressed for a party, not a war.
“It’s me,” said Sheela.
Beside her, Nikita looked furious. “How much time do you need?”
Sheela shrugged, completely unfazed even with the rocks flying around them and the jets of power blazing from both sides of the battlefield.
“Maybe ten minutes?” she asked.
“I’ll give you four,” said Nikita darkly.
Nikita glowered and a vine lashed out from her hand to snap at Kara’s neck. Just as quickly the vine retracted, now coiled around its stolen prize. Then Nikita rotated her right wrist, and more twisted gold and thorns enclosed Kara and Sheela. Huge vines clambered over them, blocking out the light and the sounds of the battle beyond.
“That’s better,” said Sheela with a happy sigh. She plopped onto the ground and looked up at Kara. “Thought you’d need a minute.”
Kara trembled and Sunny flickered weakly in her grasp. Her trident, forged from a single drop of sunshine, had been acting differently over the past few days. Maybe it was drained from cracking open the protective sphere over the nectar of immortality. But deep down Kara knew that wasn’t the reason. Her celestial weapon’s malfunctioning came from a place in her own soul…a truth Kara couldn’t bear to realize until this moment, when it had been shoved into her face.
Her reflexes had lagged.
Her brightness had dimmed.
Minutes ago, when Nikita’s vine had taken the astra necklace, Kara had hardly felt its loss. And when Kara realized what had happened, there was no heady surge of revenge, only relief. Without the burden of her betrayal around her neck, she could breathe freely again.
Sheela stared up at her. “You can say it.”
“I can’t,” said Kara, sobs racking her chest.
Kara tried to blink away the mess of tears, but when she closed her eyes, she saw the life that had been stolen from her. Something came loose in her mind, and for the first time in years, Kara clearly saw the woman in the backyard with the purple jacaranda blossoms and the fragrant lime trees. Kara saw her wide face, her smiling mouth, the nose ring winking in her right nostril. She saw her gray-streaked hair and chocolate-brown eyes. Her name was Rohini.
But Kara had called her Amma.
Mom.
“I had a mom,” said Kara softly.
The admission broke her. In a flash, Kara saw the chaos of getting ready in the morning, lunch packed away in a bright yellow backpack, a dad—a round, fell-asleep-with-a-book-on-his-face-goofy dad—embarrassing her by picking her up at school. What had it been called? Who was her favorite teacher?
Those memories—true and whole and real—lay out of reach. She could see them clearly, but they were kept at a distance by the Sleeper’s magic.
The Sleeper.
She would never call him Dad again. Every memory of him staying by her side when she was sick, every trip they’d taken together, every time he’d brought her a book…poison seeped into each moment.
“He took me,” said Kara. “Didn’t he?”
Sheela kept her gaze downcast. “Yes.”
“Do you know how he did it? How long ago it happened?”
“Yes.”
“Show me,” demanded Kara.
“It won’t help,” said Sheela, flinching a little. “It won’t make a difference. You know that.”
In that moment, Kara realized so much. Too much, perhaps. She felt the weight of Krithika Shah’s guilt over giving her up and knew it was genuine. She recognized the expression of bittersweet happiness on her biological mother’s face as she’d stood outside Kara’s childhood home and seen that her firstborn had found love there.
Kara had been kidnapped by the Sleeper, and her memories—those vital pieces that had made her who she was—had been violated by someone who had dared to call himself a parent. And yet, even after what he’d done to her, she was grateful for one thing: he had helped her find something precious.
She had found sisters.
She had found another family. Weekends spent watching movies. Weekdays locked in training. Nights spent laughing.
And then she’d lost that, too.
“Are you okay?” asked Sheela. “It’s going to go away now.”
Above them, the cage of gilded roses and thorns cracked down the middle. The sounds of clashing weapons and shouts poured back into the space, rattling Kara’s thoughts. In her hand, Sunny glowed with infernal heat. Then her weapon shot up, towering over her. Her skin felt hot. Her veins glowed.
For all that she loved words, neither sound nor sentence could hold what she felt in that moment.