The demons stilled, their red eyes aglow against the cave’s dark. As my blood trickled down my arm, the droplets landed on my paper birds, painting their heads crimson.
“SPEAK.”
“I will give you my blood,” I repeated. “In exchange for your oath that you shall not harm any living being in Kiata. Accept my terms, and you will be free once more. Magic will be free once more.”
The demons murmured sounds of dissent. “A demon’s nature is destruction. We are servants of chaos, and we will not be bound by any oath.” They scratched their nails against the walls, and the shrill cacophony set my ears ringing. “Your life is not yours to give, bloodsake. It belongs to us.”
“Then we shall see who is faster.”
The demons lunged with supernatural speed. In no universe could I have defeated them fairly. But I’d cheated.
I’d known the demons would never accept my bargain. I was helpless, defenseless, with only an army of paper birds. But what they hadn’t noticed was that I’d been gathering the strands of my soul and cutting them free.
Lady Solzaya had told me once that she believed that the human soul was made up of countless little strings that tethered it to life. That those strings could be cut one by one. I was counting on her to be right.
Before this moment, I’d always understood that my blood would break the demons’ chains and free them from the mountains. But I had never understood the point of my other gift as a bloodsake: why I could lend away fragments of my soul to create new life.
I’d inspirited plenty of things during the last year, yet only once had I given part of myself away for good: when I’d created Kiki.
Of all my enchantments, only she had lasted and stayed by my side and shared my thoughts. I used to think it was because I had smeared my blood on her crown, but I was wrong. It was her wings: the thread of my soul forming a pattern of silver and gold—for all to see.
Such strands burst now from my hair, from my fingertips, from every pinpoint of my being. They hummed like zither strings, and in my mind I swept across the span of them, inspiriting the paper birds at my feet.
Live, I urged them.
My magic worked quickly. Their hearts came alive, beating in sync with mine. With each one that rose, I fell a little, but I didn’t stop until I had no more to give.
Only then did I collapse. The demons came upon me, teeth grazing my skin and claws piercing my flesh. I felt no pain. My head and body felt light, as if I were floating. Flying, like my birds as they split away and glided past the breach, laying their wings upon its scarlet maw and sealing it until only one speck of rock was left uncovered.
I smiled and lifted my hand. One last filament of soul dangled from my wrist, and it was the only thread tethering me to life. It would take only a thought for me to send it away and stitch the breach shut once more—but once I did that, I would cease to be.
The demons froze, their gnashing teeth and claws going still as they realized what I had done.
I’d trapped them.
“Accept my offer,” I commanded in a feeble voice. “If I die, you won’t be free.”
“Then die,” the demons snarled. “Bloodsakes have always been lured to the mountains. The next will be no different. We will find their weakness and use it against them.”
“That strategy has led you to wait for a thousand years,” I reminded them. “No bloodsake will be willing to free you, as I am. Without Bandur to lead you, you’ll be trapped here at least another thousand years.”
“Why?” they demanded. “Why free us?”
I thought of Khramelan, of how he had defended his demon brothers on Lapzur even after they had betrayed him. I thought of the mirror of truth, which had inexplicably shown me a memory of Raikama when I’d asked how to defeat the demons.
And I knew this was the right way.
“Even chaos has its place,” I replied. “Without you, Kiata has been out of balance.”
Before I lost my courage, I drew a deep breath and went on: “The future I wish for is a Kiata where magic springs once more from the earth and flourishes, a Kiata where demons and gods and mortals live and thrive together.
“You have served your time. Now promise that you shall not harm the spirit, soul, or body of any living being in Kiata. Promise it, and I will give you my blood. I swear it.”
The demons said nothing. Their silence stretched an eternity as their hollow eyes bored into mine. I was certain that I’d die before they made up their minds.
Then, finally, they spoke in an eerie chorus that made the mountains tremble. “For a thousand years, we have been confined within these hollow walls. No more,” they murmured. “We will swear. We will all swear. We swear it now.”
The birds obeyed and flew, carrying my blood to lift the demons’ shackles. As each demon was released, it passed me the barest nod, its face inscrutable.
This was what I’d been born for: to bring magic back to Kiata. To undo what my ancestors had done. It was written into my fate—in the strands of magic in my soul, and in my blood that connected me to the demons. Soon it would be done.
When all the demons had been freed, their chains evaporated in puffs of smoke. But they could not leave yet.
My birds soared above the demons and touched their paper wings to one another in a circle. The strands of my soul wove together in one long beam of silver and gold, and my birds formed a ring around the demons, binding them to their promise.
Finally, it was done. A long shudder shook the earth, and the breach ruptured, its scarlet light flashing. Cracks formed across the mountain wall, fierce gusts of wind punching through. Go, the winds seemed to cry. You are no longer prisoners here.
The demons needed no invitation. Out into the world they flew, emptying the mountain and taking my paper birds with them. With each one that left, my soul unraveled a thread, and I could feel myself grow lighter. Too light to remain on this earth.
Before long, only Kiki remained, and as the glow of the moon touched her wings, she alit on my shoulder one last time.
Now it’s my turn, she said. I was so wanting to stay with you until the end and see where in the Nine Heavens Lord Sharima’en would put us. That is, if you end up in heaven.
“No,” I whispered. I caught her by the wing, bringing her to my face. “No, you’re staying with me.”
I can’t, said Kiki, the silver-gold patterns on her wings fading.
I started to protest, tears welling in my eyes, but Kiki sounded braver than she ever had. At least I can say I lived an exciting life, for a paper bird. I wish Radish Boy were here to sing, or your brother with his flute. I’d like to hear some music before I go.
I brought her close. “Channari was a girl who lived by the sea,” I began, my voice hoarse and crackly, “who kept the fire with a spoon and pot. Stir, stir, a soup for lovely skin. Simmer, simmer, a stew for thick black hair. But what did she make for a happy smile? Cakes, cakes—”