“It’s Malaki,” said Kirah.

We all turned to stare at her in surprise. She worried the edge of her prayer scarf, blinking with shocked realization.

“Malaki the Mad, Malaki of the Mountain . . . there are songs about her. I’d forgotten until now. No one’s sure, but . . . High Priestess Mbali believes Malaki’s the alagbato who made the doors to the Imperial Hall.” With a jolt, I remembered the legend—an alagbato had fashioned the Imperial Hall doors with iron from her own heart. Kirah brushed her chin to ward off bad luck. “No one talks about her. Some elders think it’s bad luck to say Malaki’s name within the palace walls. Anyway, no one’s seen her for a century, though she’s guarded that mountain range for millennia. Mbali wasn’t even sure she was still alive.”

“I don’t see why you’re all so worried,” said Kameron. He grinned, making his freckles pop as he slung a burly arm around my shoulder. “We’ve got an alagbato of our own. Tar’ll talk down Mad Malaki—won’t you, Tar?”

“I’m not a fairy,” I sputtered, wriggling out of my brother’s embrace. “I’m not even immortal, except for what I get from the Ray. What do you expect me to do?”

I absently fingered my lioness mask. To my surprise, anointing Dayo hadn’t given me a new immunity. Instead, the lone red stripe on my mask, representing my birth immunity to burning, had grown more vibrant, framing itself in gold. The Ray, it seemed, would allow me to have an extra council member. But just like every other Raybearer, I would be immune to only twelve deaths. It comforted me to know I would die an old woman . . . assuming I survived the next two years.

Kameron shrugged. “Dunno. But Melu seemed to like you well enough. If I’ve learned anything training magical beings, it’s that species smell their own—no matter what they look like on the outside.”

“One problem,” Umansa announced quietly. “Olojari isn’t the only disaster.”

He gestured at the tapestries lining the salon. Slowly, I noticed that every loom depicted a different creature with glowing eyes—some causing floods in lakes and rivers, others rising from quaking grassland, and some charging through blizzards of snow, or bellowing amidst blazing jungles and forests.

“It’s everywhere,” Umansa confirmed. “Alagbatos are awakening all across Aritsar, threatening crucial raw materials.”

A dazed pause chilled the room.

“We have to go back to our home realms,” Mayazatyl realized slowly. “All of us.”

“We have to stop them,” Theo agreed. “Or at least figure out what they want. It’ll be harder once we split up, but—”

“Split up?” I interjected, head spinning. “What about council sickness?”

“There’s no other way to reach all the realms in time,” said Sanjeet, scanning a map on the salon war table. “So we’ll just have to endure. Travel quickly. Treat our symptoms another way.”

“That’s impossible,” I protested.

“Not with kuso-kuso,” said Thérèse, tremblingly lifting a vial of smelling herbs to her nostrils. “It won’t be easy. But if we all take my new strain at the same time—the Ray can unite our minds across space. Not forever—the herbs aren’t that strong. But if you take them every day, we’ll stay connected for a while. Five months. Maybe six.”