“As my hostility cooled, I began to observe mortals and their magic. Their inclination toward narrative. How they defined their world through perceived cause and effect. It is a power as potent as any spell; entire universes can be found along that arc, all formed of belief. And so I sought to harness and bring it to the nagas. After a little experimentation, I discovered that mortal dreams are as pliable as clay. But only if another mortal forges them.”

He turned to Venkat with a soft cast to his patrician features that, in anyone else, might have been wistful. “For so long, we have all been spoon-fed a tale of enmity. Imagine that we could give rise to the conditions in which peace might bloom between our peoples. Imagine, too, that we could even entertain such an outlandish idea. That is what we hope to achieve here, you and I.”

Venkat recalled the representative from the clan of Maniakkhika, who had suggested peace talks at the council meeting and been shouted down. “But what about the garudas? They’re still attacking us.”

“Indeed. They would also be part of this revisioning. We all fail to see beyond the pain of our collective past.”

“And you think I can do that?” Venkat almost laughed. “I think your faith in me is a little misplaced.”

“When I call you my son, I do not do so lightly,” Nayan thundered. “I recognized your inherent ability when you came to me, and I have nurtured it since. Do not dismiss that honor with false modesty!”

“Okay, okay.” Venkat held up his hands in surrender. “So what exactly does this mean—if you can tell me, that is?”

“You and I will bring true healing, one section at a time.” Nayan gestured to the table. “Behold, the entirety of our collaboration thus far.”

The sections didn’t match, scraps of varying sizes and textures as random as remnants of fabric pieced together, but the emotion from each one struck Venkat in the heart. He’d forged every one of them, and he could feel how seamlessly they might fit together. How, if they did, they would create something immense enough to heal the scars of endless strife.

The nagas had taken him in when he’d had nowhere else to go. Nayan and Asha had become his family. If he could give them such a huge gift, of course he would.

For all his dreamsmithing ability, he couldn’t imagine a more noble goal.

“A revisioning,” Venkat said. “I like it. Tell me what I need to do.”

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