Hasho’s smile disappeared, and Takkan gritted his teeth like a man intent on cracking a tooth. He brushed the hair from my eyes, his fingertips gliding over my temples. “Don’t let go, Shiori,” he said. “Fight.”
I was fighting—and losing. I could hardly feel the welts on my back or the broken ribs on my side. My body was going cold.
Takkan must have noticed me shivering, for he pressed his body to mine and murmured something to Hasho, who immediately threw me his cloak and started rubbing my fingers.
But it was no use. I could feel the life ebbing out of me. I was dying.
I didn’t even notice the demons arrive—until Takkan lifted his head, and Hasho reached for his short sword.
A soft red light bathed them, accentuating their starved and hollow eyes. I prayed that I hadn’t made a horrible mistake.
They didn’t attack, as they had when Bandur dragged me into the Holy Mountains. They were strangely hesitant.
“Come with us,” they said, their voices reverberating in the hollows of my ears. “We have many more waiting to be freed.”
“No,” Takkan said. “You cannot have her.”
The demons ignored him and extended their light to me. I began to float, and Takkan grabbed my hand, refusing to give me up. Hasho came too, blocking us with his body and swinging his short sword.
The demons snarled.
“Stop!” I rasped. “I’ll go with you…but you aren’t to harm them.”
One of the demons stepped forward. As his shadow fell over me, my pain became a dull ache. My wounds were still there, but the hurt was gone.
My eyes flew up in confusion.
“There is no need for you to feel pain,” the demon said. His voice was neither kind nor cruel. Merely firm. “Come now. We will not harm your company.”
“Let me go,” I whispered to Takkan, twisting my hand away.
His eyes were glassy with pain. He held on. No.
I touched my nose to his cheek, my eyes tracing the peak of his hairline to the dimple in his chin. Then I pressed my forehead to his and, our hands still entwined, reached into my pocket for Raikama’s thread.
It was little more than a tangled clump at this point, but there was still magic in it. It shimmered in my hands, warm with light.
I kissed Takkan wordlessly before I pushed the thread into his hands.
The demons seized me. “We have her!” they shouted. “Return. Return!”
We shot up into the clouds, and all I could see was Takkan cutting through the trees, tracking the slip of my form among the fathomless mass of demons. I kept my eyes on him as long as I could. He shouldered his way forward, swift and relentless, his every muscle focused on the singular goal of finding me. Nothing would stop him, not the flying trees uprooted by the trembling earth, not the violent winds or the sudden fractures in the ground. “Shiori!” he kept shouting. “Shiori!”
“Takkan,” I whispered.
An ache rose to my heart, and I pulled my gaze away. Another voice was calling my name. A little voice that my ears picked up immediately.
Kiki.
She led a wave of paper birds toward the breach. Shiori! You’d better not forget me. I’m coming!
So she was. With the barest of smiles, I closed my eyes and let the darkness consume me.
I awoke in the underbelly of the Holy Mountains. Entrapped in cavernous walls, I lay on an unyielding bed of stone not far from the breach.
The breach was rife with magic, and it had grown in the last few days, stretching crookedly across the slope of the mountain in a thick vein. Even from within, it glowed.
With tremendous effort, I propped myself up onto my elbows. Something rustled against the rocks, and I held my breath.
“Kiki!” I cried weakly as dozens of my paper birds surrounded me. “You’re here.”
Kiki’s wing was broken, pierced by an arrow, and she craned her long neck at the paper birds shuffling behind her, hiding behind the rocks. We couldn’t let you come alone.
I touched her wing, trying to mend it. My thumb brushed against the silvery-gold pattern of feathers, so faint I rarely noticed it. After all these months, I finally understood what it was.
The piece of my soul that connected us.
Don’t bother, said my bird, pulling her wing away. We’re not getting out of here.
“Ever the pessimist, aren’t you?”
It was the first time the paper bird’s eyes betrayed her. They were soft and wet, the ink smearing. Almost as if she were crying.
It hurt to swallow, and I slowly, wretchedly rose to my knees. “Look,” I whispered, “I’m getting better.”
Liar.
A liar I was, for I was still dying. Our souls were linked; she would feel it.
“The mountain’s quieter than last time,” I remarked, tilting my head at our surroundings. No illusions of home or Raikama’s garden deceived my eyes, no demons disguised as my brothers beckoned to me. All was still. Empty. Almost…peaceful. “Where are the demons?”
My answer came as soon as I asked. Smoke pierced the breach, hissing into every corner. As my paper birds rose into a protective cocoon, the demons materialized.
They cornered me against a wall. Hundreds of red eyes bored through the shadows, watching me with the greatest intent, as curious as they were desperate.
“YOU HAVE ASKED TO RETURN. NOW FULFILL YOUR PROMISE.”
Kiki hopped back behind my hair. You’re not really going to free them, are you? she whispered. Just give the word, and we’ll attack. We can seal the mountains.
I said nothing, but dread rolled in my gut. I’d told the demons I’d changed my mind. I’d summoned them to get me—and so they had. Now they were waiting for me, and every second they waited, their anger rose. It heated the mountains, made the earth tremble.
If you have a plan, now would be a good time to implement it, squeaked Kiki.
I scrabbled for a loose rock and pressed its sharp edge into my palm.
“I am going to free them,” I said finally.
What? Kiki’s inky black eyes bulged. Have you gone senseless? You can’t free the demons!
“They can’t be locked up here forever,” I said. “Maybe my ancestors thought so, but it has to end.”
They’ll kill you, Shiori, Kiki pleaded. And me.
“I’ll make them promise,” I said, more certain than ever. “Immortals are bound to their promises.”
That didn’t work so well with Bandur.
“It’ll work this time.” I slashed my hand, holding in a cry as blood welled over the lines of my palm, and I summoned my shield of paper birds close.
“I came here of my own will,” I said, my voice hardly more than a whisper. “And I am ready to give you my blood. I will free you, but in return you will do something for me.”