“Nothing’s been destroyed yet,” cut in Umansa, turning his ear toward Dayo and me. “The volcano may not even have erupted. My visions aren’t clear on timelines.”

“But we have to stop it,” Dayo said, wringing his hands as I pulled off my satin sleep scarf, still groggy from dreaming. “It could happen at any moment.”

“Can’t we at least wait until after breakfast?” mewled Emeronya. Amidst the packing chaos, she was sitting cross-legged on the floor, peering into her glass scrying orb. “I’ve searched the city borders. No sign of fires, lava, anything. If Umansa’s vision is so urgent, why didn’t he say something earlier?”

“I did,” Umansa retorted, crossing his tattooed arms. “Or at least, my hangings did. But they weren’t clear until now.” He gestured at the sandstone salon walls, where his last few weeks of tapestries glittered in black, ochre, and crimson. The latest tapestry still hung from the beams of the loom. It appeared to depict a mountain with teeth, flashing claws, and unsettlingly human eyes. The rocky beast reared on its haunches, spewing lava from its mouth. Glyphs and planets bordered the tapestry—coordinates of the monster’s location.

Zathulu, my bookish council brother and Archdean of the Imperial Academy, scribbled furiously on a slate, glancing up at the tapestry and squinting over reference scrolls. “That can’t be right. Umansa’s tapestry puts the volcano in the same place as Olojari Temple.”

I frowned. “The Ember mountain forge?”

The Ember religious sect revered Warlord Fire, one of Aritsar’s principal deities. His devotees built mines and holy forges all over Aritsar, hoping the elemental god would bless their efforts with rich veins of gold, iron, and coal.

“The forge belongs to the Ember,” Umansa said. “But the quarry beneath it is imperial property.”

“Oh.” Yet another place that Dayo and I owned. I supposed the nobles ran the quarry for us too.

“I’ve been tracking its shipments to the treasury,” Umansa went on. “Recently, some rebel group has been interfering with supply lines. I thought my prophecies pointed to some kind of bandit uprising—but I guess I was wrong. Looks like the real danger is that mountain exploding.”

“But Olojari is seventy miles from here,” Kirah said. “Something that far away couldn’t destroy Oluwan City.”

“Not something,” Sanjeet murmured. “Someone.” He had already found and tightened his weapon halter. Wordlessly, he crossed the room to Umansa’s new tapestry, grimacing as he traced the mountain’s livid features. “I’ve seen a face like that before,” he said, sending an image down the Ray bond.

My siblings stiffened as Sanjeet’s vision flooded our thoughts: a tall, pole-like being with wings of cobalt fire and blazing yellow eyes that slanted all the way to his temples.

“I don’t understand,” said Ai Ling. “Why would Swana’s fairy guardian set off a volcano in Oluwan?”

“That isn’t Melu,” I protested, swallowing hard as I examined the tapestry. “It is an alagbato, I think. But that creature isn’t my father.”

“If not Melu, then who?” Zathulu objected. “Oluwan doesn’t have nature fairies, at least, none that I’ve heard of. Most alagbatos died when we razed the land to build cities.”