The air grew colder as she left the crowds and entered the quieter east of the city. She passed the smudged-gray apartment buildings, their windows lit with candles instead of electricity, then checked that no one was watching as she crossed a rusted bridge spanning the Minos River.

A few miles of weed-choked train tracks and muddy fields spread toward the forest on Kosín’s outskirts. Far beyond the trees, mountains edged the horizon, blue and curving like ocean waves. She walked fast, needing to get to the mines and then back into the city before all the shops closed for the night.

While the mines produced diamonds meant to be sold as jewels, plenty of the workers here were involved in the illicit trade of rough diamonds used in blood magic. Prior to the civil war fourteen years ago, many people in their country had worshiped the Mothers, two goddesses named Kalaan and Isar who had blessed the Inosen—the faithful—with the magic of blood and earth. After the war and the rise of industrialization, worship and the use of magic had been outlawed. But a few hundred Inosen were left, their faith buried in Kosín’s poorest districts. Even though they hid, Aina knew they were there. They were the ones buying her rough diamonds, after all.

The sound of drills soon reached her ears. A half mile later, she approached the fringe of the forest and took in the open pit of the Hirai Diamond Mine.

With a seven-million-carat yearly production rate, it was the richest diamond mine in the world. No matter how many times she saw it, descending into the earth with different levels cut into it like tree rings, the surrounding fields crisscrossed with pale beige roads and ore-filled crates, the pit never failed to impress her. It stretched farther than she could see. Employment and production had increased dramatically ever since more rare diamonds had been discovered in it.

A few supervisors nodded at her as she approached. She waved to one of them, a man whose name she’d forgotten the minute he’d told it to her. Next to him was a large crate loaded with gray, grain-like ore.

“Miss Solís.” His smile was nearly toothless. “You’re back again.”

“Your goods?”

He took in her bloodstained clothes with a concerned frown. “We have water if you want to wash up.”

“Your goods?”

With an exasperated shake of his head, the supervisor approached a toolbox at the foot of the crate. He withdrew a small scale and worked with his back to her. When he returned, Aina slipped him coins to keep quiet about their transaction, then held out a hand.

A stream of rough diamonds cascaded onto her palm. She tilted her hand so moonlight shone on their varying opaque and translucent surfaces. The gems were fresh from the earth, still dull in sheen and needing cut and polish to be sold anywhere as jewelry. But they would work fine for magic.

“Not jewelry-shop quality,” the supervisor began, “but as long as they’re not entirely opaque, they’ll work for your purposes.”