Andahai had been right. It was a trap. The demonfire wouldn’t rest until it had me.
With every bit of strength I possessed, I let go of Takkan’s hand and shoved him away from me. My betrothed was strong and steady, but I’d caught him by surprise. He stumbled back, out of the demonfire’s range.
A wall of flames shot up, separating us. Fire looped around me, trapping me inside and keeping Takkan and my brothers out.
As long as I lived, I would never forget the anguish in Takkan’s eyes as he stood on the other side of the fire. His gaze passed over me and ran along the width and height of the flames, as if gauging them for some way through.
There isn’t one, I thought. Takkan, you mad fool—get out of here!
Priests and priestesses emerged from behind the smoke, charging for the wall of demonfire. For me. Takkan’s arrows went wild, and my brothers raised their bows to join him.
Bodies fell. Forward, backward, on their sides. Blue-feathered arrows protruding from their backs.
But our enemies were too many. And as soon as the cultists passed the wall, slipping through as if it were made of water, not fire, no knife or arrow could follow.
My birds and I attacked valiantly together as they advanced. I scored a gash across the abdomen of a priest, stabbed a priestess’s collarbone, narrowly missed another’s heart. But we were only delaying the inevitable.
From behind, someone grabbed my wrist and wrenched my dagger out of my grasp. A priestess swung her spear at my back, and my bones made a horrible cracking sound as I slammed forward onto my stomach. A barrage of kicks came at my ribs, and my chin banged against the hard-packed dirt, my mouth so full of filth I couldn’t even squeak in pain.
“Where’s your magic now, bloodsake?” they jeered as my concentration broke and the paper birds fell lifeless at my sides.
“This is for Guiya.” A kick to my back.
“For Janinha.”
“For Kiata.”
Pain came in an explosion of white, and my entire world went blank before snapping back into strident color.
I bit down on my lip, tasting blood. They goaded me to scream, to curse or cry out. But I didn’t make a sound. These zealots couldn’t kill me. Not by beating me to death, anyway. The only acceptable way for me to die was by demonfire so they could collect my precious ashes.
“So full of spirit, Shiori’anma,” said a priestess, holding up her spear to catch her breath. “In another life, perhaps you might have joined us.”
I wasn’t listening. My lips were clamped together, and one of the tiny paper birds Qinnia had folded blew past my cheek.
Awaken, I called out to it. Help me.
As its wings fluttered, I called out to the rest of the tiny birds. They were the size of spiders, and Qinnia had been right: I did need soldiers of all sizes. Soldiers small enough to fly unnoticed.
Kiki would say I was out of my mind, and maybe I was. But I was no longer afraid.
I’ve changed my mind, I told the tiny birds. Tell the mountains I’ve changed my mind.
My paper birds flew over the demonfire, out of my assailants’ reach, as small as the sparks spitting forth from the flames. Before anyone noticed they were there, they flew off.
My beating was done, and now two of the cultists were dragging me to the Tears of Emuri’en. Soon twigs snapped against my broken bones, and someone propped me against a sword staked into the pit. I was so weak I immediately slid and toppled onto my side.
No one helped me up.
The priests and priestesses chanted over me. They spoke in Old Kiatan, praying that my ashes would announce the birth of a new era, that the demons would never be free. None of it was novel to me, and I tuned out their sanctimonious words, listening instead to the earth below me.
It was still. Silent.
Hurry, I thought to my birds. Please.
Heat scorched my back, and the flames crackled as I pressed my cheek to the dirt. I was in so much pain I couldn’t move. But I held on—I couldn’t let go of the thread that tied me to the paper birds. Not before they delivered my message.
Finally, the ground trembled. Harder than before. And this time, it didn’t stop.
A few of the priestesses stumbled. Their chants faltered. As they regained their balance, they tossed fistfuls of ashes into the air and resumed chanting, faster.
The demonfire grew higher, hotter. It rose from the earth in a tall wall, and as it closed in on me, my sweat simmered. Wood dissolved into ash under my ankles, and the flames crackled against my flesh. I had seconds at best. It took all my willpower not to panic, to hold in my screams and breathe as the demonfire leapt to devour me.
“Shiori!” cried a voice from above. “Shiori!”
I was so delirious that at first I thought it was the demons. I tipped my head back and squinted through the smoke.
Takkan and Hasho! They were in the sky, riding astride the backs of eagles and swans and a whole motley of birds I couldn’t see—with Kiki! They hung above me, a gasp above the towering flames.
Takkan’s bow was in his hands, aimed downward. I heard the stretch and twang of a string. Three whooshes, one after another. Through the flames I didn’t even see the arrows fly.
One by one, the priests and priestesses fell. Knees sank in the mud, and fingers curled into the earth. The ones who lived kept chanting even as they tumbled forward.
The demonfire roared. The window above me closed, the black hearts of the flames writhing around to devour me. But the seconds that Takkan and Hasho bought were enough.
The air turned cold first. Then a dark veil was cast over the sun, choking out its sickly light. Shadows swept over the earth. All around me, the flames shrank into embers, and the forest went dark.
Only the breach glowed. Its fervent red light pulsed brighter and fanned across the forest, searching. When at last it fell upon me, the ground gave a tumultuous shudder.
The demons were here.
Demons tore through the breach and swarmed the forest. Radiating scarlet light, they were nightmares incarnate, stitched of man, beast, and monster. The more humanlike ones were attired in pale, ghostly armor, while others wore only the hides of beasts: fur, feathers, or scales.
Red-eyed monsters descended upon the priests and priestesses, ending their lives before they even had a chance to scream. A flash of fangs, a hiss of smoke, then, like a flame, they were snuffed out. All that was left was their white robes.
As the wind swept away their remains, Takkan rushed to my side. I could only imagine how I appeared, wilted and broken like that last moon orchid in the Tears of Emuri’en. Ever so tenderly, he lifted me onto his lap.
“You’re going to be all right,” he said, holding my fingers.
“Don’t lie. You’re not good at it.”
“It really isn’t so bad, sister,” Hasho chimed in, an even worse liar than Takkan. I wished I could tell him so, but pain spasmed through every point in my body, and I bit down on my lip.