Imeria had never seen Luntok so calm. Hours earlier on the veranda, he went over the plan with Vikal and Gulod a final time. They and the other men on the mission fed off his stone-faced confidence. They followed him into the tunnel without question. With a burst of pride, she recognized how they looked at him. It was the same blind faith so many Maynarans placed in their beloved Gatdulas.

Water dripped in fat drops from the roof of the tunnel onto Imeria’s forehead. She let go of the wall to flick it away, her fingers catching on the left wing of her raptor-shaped headpiece. For the midnight feast, she had come dressed in armor of her own: scarlet silks that blazed like phoenix fire and her gaudiest jewelry. Hidden beneath her blouse lay the heaviest piece, a single vial of precioso she had attached to a thin chain around her neck. The other vials she’d hidden away for safekeeping; one would suffice for this night if they were lucky. She groped for the one at her neck, sighing in relief when she felt the hard glass slide beneath her fingertips.

“We’ve reached the gardens,” Luntok announced in a low voice. He squeezed Imeria’s hand. “Mother, are you ready?”

No. Imeria wasn’t ready. She had prayed to the old gods of Thu-ki, her ancestors’ fallen kingdom, to clear her mind and harden her heart and make her the monster she needed to be. The gods never answered her, but that was expected. She wasn’t one to wait for divine intervention. Imeria was fully capable of becoming a monster on her own.

“Yes,” she said, and heard Luntok rustle in his pockets for the pipe. Beside him, Vikal struck a match on the cave wall. In the flame, their faces glowed orange. The other men hung back, shuffling in trepidation.

They watched solemnly as she reached for the vial around her neck and unscrewed the cap. Carefully, she poured its contents into the bowl of the pipe and held it to her mouth. Vikal lowered the flame to the bowl. Imeria felt the heat on her face as she inhaled deeply. When she breathed out, her eyes watered from the smoke. She leaned against Luntok, fighting the urge to cough. The drug had flooded like poison into her veins, but she felt nothing.

A jolt of panic wound through her⁠—no. It wasn’t possible. They had come so far. She’d waited too long. The precioso had to work.

Imeria steeled herself and took in another breath, letting the smoke fill her lungs slowly. This time, as she exhaled, her skin tingled. The cold sensation began at the crown of her head. It oozed down her spine and arms and, finally, through her fingertips. She felt detached from her body, yet she could not ignore the power that pulsed in her veins.

“Mother?” Luntok called.