“Um,” I said slowly, a smile inching across my face, “I think I know how we can beat Mahishasura for good.”

Over and over, I had been told I was just a little girl, but there was no such thing as just a little girl. The Crows had helped me see that none of us were just anything. I didn’t have to be what anyone else said I was, I didn’t have to fight my battles the same way as everyone else, and I wasn’t going to let anyone keep me quiet and scared anymore.

This was my world.

And it was time to take it back.

28

I knelt at the window in Ashwini’s bedroom for what could be the very last time and took a long look at my kingdom. It had been a magical, joyful place once and I knew that I could make it that way again.

I could see it in my mind, bright and vibrant like a page out of my sketchbook: where the dust drifted over the rusty tracks, there would be a merry red train chugging across the city; where the fairground stood empty, there would be a circus, cotton candy, and laughter again; everywhere you went, you’d smell mangoes and dosas and fresh Mysore pak; the silent, dark forest would sing with birds; the jewel houses would be filled with loud chatter and windows would be thrown wide open; magical chariots would fly the Crows up to the pastel castle; and no monsters would ever block the light of the sun again.

It was possible. I had to believe that, that a world that had gone dark could be bright again.

In the distance, I could see the golden and red domes of Mysore Palace. And the gandaberunda at the top, silent and still.

“Wake up,” I whispered. “Please.”

There was no answer. The statue didn’t stir. Why hadn’t it woken, like the legends promised? How could this not be Mysore’s time of greatest need?

“It will wake when it’s ready,” Chamundeshwari’s voice said from behind me. “This world is a part of you, Kiki, and the gandaberunda is a part of you, too. Trust in it.”

I turned. She stood in the doorway, her braid over her shoulder, a white sling around one arm. The Good Witch was with her.

“You came!”

The Good Witch rolled her eyes. “Does a sun shrew live for a thousand moons?”

“That’s a yes,” Chamundeshwari translated with a small smile. “I reminded her that you freed her from Lalith Mahal. It was the least she could do.”

“And what is it you wish me to do?” the Good Witch asked, looking very put-upon.

“A spell,” I said. “If I were to make a few hundred small things, could you turn them into a few hundred big things?”

She squinted at me suspiciously. “Yes.”

I grinned. “Then I’d better get to work.”

Armed with the colored pencils and ink Crow House had given me, I shut myself up in the front room downstairs and started drawing.