“Go on, Auntie Okja,” he eggs. “Tell them. Tell them how you were the one working with the council to steal the seventh artifact for your own use, and you framed the scholars. Tell them how you wanted my mom’s position as elder and how that got her killed.”

“I did what?” Auntie Okja looks stunned.

Eomma and Appa shake their heads, clearly thinking this is some kind of sick joke.

“He’s right,” I say, backing up Emmett. My heart is beating in triple time, but I try to speak calmly. “The prophecy says:

‘When the blood moon and black sun appear to the gaze

To mark the start of the end of all days,

In the one last divine, a weapon shall rise;

Unless the gold-destroyer ends the soul who lies.’

“I’ve been thinking a lot about the last line, and I’m starting to wonder if it’s talking about you, Auntie O. The way I see it, it’s saying the end of all days is coming because of the last artifact, unless we stop the soul who lies. Are you the liar?”

Everyone stares at her expectantly, but she remains speechless.

“Well? What do you have to say for yourself?” Sora asks in a steely voice.

Austin bristles. “Do you know how many of our people died because of your actions?” There’s so much pain in his voice it makes me shudder.

After a moment, Auntie Okja moves. Austin starts rubbing his wrist in preparation for an attack, but she just grabs a nearby wooden crate. She smooths out her skirt in one long movement before sitting on it. “When Sookhee died, I was so grief-stricken over having lost my best friend that I believed what the council told me. That the Horangi were responsible. It was easier that way—to have someone to blame.”

Sora and Austin growl.

Auntie Okja gives them a guilty look, massages her temples, and continues. “But the truth is, I always thought something was off. The pieces didn’t add up. It was too convenient that the scholars were there at the wrong place at the wrong time when they were the keepers of the artifact in the first place. But it wasn’t until things went sour at Hattie’s initiation that I started digging. And no matter where I looked, the same answer kept coming up. It all centered around one person who was adamant about keeping the scholars in the community’s disfavor.”

We all lean in. “Who?” I demand. “Who was it?”

“Bongjoon Pyo. The Samjogo elder. The chairperson of the LA council.”

I let out a yelp, and then feel a weird sense of relief wash over me. I want so badly to believe Auntie Okja. “So it wasn’t you?” I ask. “You weren’t the one who wanted the sunstone ax? You’re innocent?”