Taeyo studies me. “If what you say is true, why don’t we know who you are?”

“Because,” I explain, “I met with the dokkaebi. And I had to give away your memories of me as payment for conjuring the last fallen star.”

Their eyes widen, and Sora searches around me. “Then where is it? Where is the last artifact?”

I gulp. It’s a good question. The dokkaebi played me. “Um, he said I was already in possession of it. But I don’t know what that means.”

“I don’t trust her,” Austin says, as he starts rubbing his wrists together. “We need to neutralize her before she becomes a threat.”

Hiccups erupt out of my throat and I start to panic. Think, think, think! If I can’t convince them we need to work together, our plans will be ruined. I will have given up everything for nothing.

I look at the inmyeonjo. “Areum, tell them,” I urge. “Tell them who I am.”

“She is who she says she is,” the bird-woman confirms. “She is Riley Oh.”

But suspicion still lingers in everyone’s eyes. They don’t know a Riley Oh anymore.

Austin starts approaching me, and I anxiously fiddle with the ring on my finger. Do I run? Hide? What are my options? Then I realize…The ring.

“Em,” I say, walking up to him while holding out the ring. “You might not remember me, but until a moment ago, when your memories were wiped by the dokkaebi, you were my best friend. You gave me this before I got initiated into the Horangi clan.”

I pass the ring to him, and he takes it, studying it from all angles. When he sees the secret compartment inside the band, his forehead creases into a frown. “I have no idea who you are, but this is my ring, and I never take it off.”

“And that’s Boris,” I say, pointing to the dragon-on-wheels lying on the ground next to him. “Noah lent him to us the night of the summoning, and Taeyo souped him up.” Boris’s tail wags as if to verify my statement.

Emmett sidesteps and stands protectively in front of the scaly blue scooter. “How do you know his name?”

I turn to Eomma and Appa. “I know you can’t remember me, either, but I promise, I’m your daughter, too.” I point to Auntie Okja. “Auntie O brought me to you when I was a newborn. And you raised me. Hattie is my sister.”

They both study my face and then share a confused look between themselves. And it feels like a hundred little cuts. My parents really have no idea who I am. I swallow my tears and shove my hands in my pockets. This is it. I’m done for. I wish I had my onyx stone.

That’s when my hand lands on something round and cold and hard.

The compass!