Sama’s breath is steady as she presses her hand against mine. It’s so small and delicate. She’s always been tiny—so I nicknamed her Tiny Whisper when we were kids. I can never hear or see her coming, just the whisper announcing her presence. She was destined to be a Lunar Witch from birth.
“I’m sorry, but what are you talking about?” she whispers, as if the question is a secret.
Come dawn, everyone will know Leigh and Wilder are missing. When I close the gate, they’ll be stuck in another realm. Felicity Graves will become queen, and it’ll be entirely my fault.Sama would freak out if I told her what Felicity said about us and the Nebula. She may start a civil war by insisting we tell Queen Jorina. It’ll be Felicity’s word against ours.
My stomach hardens into a cold stone. “Be glad you don’t.”
Sama purses her lips, studying me, then picks up a leather-bound book. She flips it open. Her eyes scan the pages. “Whose journals are these?”
“Aradia’s.”
Sama continues to flip through the handwritten pages. “Wow, I’d love to spend a week or more reading these. What are you looking for? Maybe I can help.”
I refuse to implicate her. If I have to lock Leigh in Mictlan, I will take Sama, and we will leave right after first light.
“You should rest,” I say. “Tomorrow’s going to be a long day.”
I’m so tired of running, but it might be our only option.
A blanket of shadow, calm and comforting, drapes over my shoulders a second later. It’s Sama’s magic. She offers a small smile, her long black hair glowing in the firelight.
“You should rest, too. All your problems will still be there in the morning.”
I groan and bury my face in my hands. My sister has no clue how serious our situation is.
“Well, this is interesting,” Sama says, eyes on a particular passage. “Could it be about Leigh?”
“Huh?”
Carefully, with both hands, Sama hands me the journal she’s reading. “I think it’s some sort of prophecy,” Sama says, reading over my shoulder.
From darkness, she shall rise; the one chosen by the gods. This queen alone maintains the balance between shadow and light. As long as she lives,peace and harmony will persist. If her life ends too soon, chaos will spread across the world. Protect her fiercely, for without her, all hope of balance vanishes…
I stare at the passage unblinkingly. It does sound like Leigh, but as far as I know, Aradia never mentioned anything to Leigh about being a harbinger of peace. Did she? If it referred to Leigh, wouldn’t Aradia have wanted her to know? Then again, perhaps the weight of that knowledge was something Aradia wished to spare her from. Maybe she believed Leigh would be better off not living with such a burden.
“You have that look. What are you thinking?” Sama presses.
“That I need to find what I am looking for sooner rather than later,” I say.
Sama frowns. “You’re being strangely vague, brother.”
“Let’s just say there’s a rift to Mictlan, and I need to close it.”
She tilts her head. “The ghost realm? Who opened it? And why not ask them to close it?”
I suppress a groan. Sometimes my sister can’t see past the immediate problem; she’s always been this way, as shown by her trusting Alden’s brother Zeus with our secrets and telling him we’re Ivah’s descendants. She was blinded by his supposed affection and trusting the wolves’ invasion plans from years ago. But now isn’t the time for that lesson.
“That person isn’t here anymore. So, if we don’t close it, anything could get through it. The Dullahan are not the only nightmares trapped in that realm. There’s a god named Kosac… who knows what terror could unfold if he got out.”
“Kosac can’t leave Mictlan; if he does, he’ll wither away since he is sustained by the souls trapped there,” Sama says, her gazesteady. “The Dullahan can leave because they are his creations. But none of that matters, because I can close it.”
I lean back in my seat. “You know how to close the gate?”
Sama stands taller. “You sound surprised. When I was Zeus’s prisoner, I had many conversations with our ancestors. I learned a thing or two.” There’s pride in her voice. “It’s simple, really. There’s a tear in reality, and we must stitch it back together.”
“With what, a magical needle?” I joke.
“Sure. But we can also try encircling the rift with condemning symbols and divine names that have protective powers,” she says, rolling her big brown eyes as if explaining something painfully obvious. “We could try a daemon-trapping bowl.”
