“You’re going to leave, then.” Though his father had commanded it, it hadn’t sunk in.
“He’s more powerful than me,” Daziel said. “I’m not sure I can resist him. And I don’t know what’s left for me to do.”
Be with me, I almost said. Instead, feeling dizzyingly light and numb, I gathered up our bowls and headed to the kitchen. Daziel followed me there, and then we went upstairs. How could Daziel leave? When he had said he would prove he wanted to be with me?
But then, with the world ending,shouldn’tyou go home? Should I go home?
“So now what?” I asked as we crawled into bed. “We give up? We’re done?”
“I don’t know,” Daziel said. “I hate that I keep saying that. But I just don’t know.”
Holding each other tight, we turned off the lights and shut our eyes. I didn’t know what else to say.Stay with me. I love you.
But those things were scarier to say than the world ending.
Daziel fell asleep quickly, a skill I’d always envied. I lay there, thoughts whirling. Outside, I could hear the howl of the winds, feel the strange rumble of the streets. I tossed and turned, trying to sleep. I caught the edge of it, the strange drifting from where you can never remember your thoughts, and tried to let myself fall. Images flashed through my mind—Daziel, the scrolls, my friends, the river, the caves, Mom, Dad, my sisters—
A high, thin voice:Don’t let me drown.
Another tremor jolted me awake. Great. Now I’d never fall back asleep.
I got out of bed quietly, trying not to wake Daziel. He murmured something and shifted, then lay still again.
I curled up in the armchair by the window, tucking my bare feet beneath me for warmth, craning my gaze up to see the moon. I couldn’t imagine leaving Ena-Cinnai myself, let alone with everyone who lived here. It seemed impossible. And if all natural magic was thrown off, there might not be anywhere safe. I didn’t know what we’d do then.
In the distance, silhouetted against the moon, soared the long, slim shape of a heron—its kinked neck, the long feathers of its plumage, the broad, distinctive wings.
I blinked. Had I really seen a bird, here in Talum, where we had no more birds?
Well, why not? The Ziz, Master of the Birds, was dead. Perhaps it no longer needed its court gathered to rend their clothes and sing a funeral song. Perhaps they’d all been released to go back to wherever they had come from. What else would they do without a new ruler to follow?
I stilled.
A new ruler. Most things did get new rulers once the old one died—kings and emperors for humans. Queens for bees.
Did mythical beasts? I’d assumed there was only one Ziz, eternal and immortal, and with its death, everything would end.
But…
Once it dropped an egg, which flattened cities…
An egg. A baby.
The Ziz controls the winds.
I thought of the winds pushing me toward the caves. Caves leading deep under the island. The wind wasn’t whispering to me now. But it had.
I thought of the odd shape of Talum, of our island and the islet curving toward each other. Like a volcano had erupted, leaving a caldera. But. Not only volcanos caused depressions.
The idea was so preposterous I almost laughed. I could accept the primordial beasts being part of the physical world, but it was more difficult to accept them interacting with it so bluntly, like in the stories.
An egg. An egg that flattened cities.
But it made a strange sort of sense. Like puzzle pieces clicking together. A heavy stone dropped from the sky could leave a crater. Maybe an egg from a legendary beast could do the same.
I shoved Daziel awake. “Daziel. Daziel, what if there’s an egg?”
He was sleepy and not built for waking immediately. “Hm?”
