“Rishi?” he said, confusion blooming in his dark eyes as he peered up at her. He gestured to the crumbling stone around him. “They destroyed it, Rishi. They destroyed everything.”

Nira grimaced. The web still hung before Adare, but it had withered, the fire fraying, fading to the sullen red of old coals.

“It is long over, Roshin,” the woman replied, eyes fixed on her brother. “They are gone now. They cannot hurt us anymore.”

“What about her?” Oshi wailed, stabbing a finger at Adare.

“She is a friend,” Nira replied.

“A friend,” the old man said quietly, as though testing an unfamiliar word. “Our friend?”

“Yes,” she replied. After a moment, the unnatural fire died, leaving its writhing lines seared on Adare’s vision. The cellar hole fell into shadow as Oshi dropped his hands. With surprising agility, Nira clambered down the rough stone walls, dropping the last few feet to land beside her brother. “Here,” she said gently, sliding a bottle from somewhere in her robes, uncorking it with a thumb, then holding it to his lips. “Drink, Oshi. You will feel better.”

“Better?” he asked, baffled, peering into the darkness. “Will it ever be better?”

“Yes,” Nira said, tipping back the vessel. Some of the pungent liquid spilled down his chin, but he slurped at it greedily. “It will get better,” she murmured.

When he’d emptied the bottle, he settled slowly to the ground, then lapsed into sleep, leaning half against his sister, half against the rough wall behind him, lips twitching as though trying to form words.

Nira considered the foundation, then shook her head wearily. “I had forgotten this was here,” she said, partly to herself, partly to her sleeping brother. “After all these years, brother,” she went on softly, “and you were the one to remember.”

“What is it?” Adare breathed.

The woman turned to her, as though realizing for the first time that she was still there, eyes narrowing, hand closing protectively over Oshi’s shoulder.

“A place that was pleasant for him, once,” she replied.

Adare just shook her head, uncertain how to respond.

“He was going to kill me,” she said finally.

“Yes,” Nira said. “He was.”

“Why?”

“His mind is gone. They destroyed it. They destroyed all of us.”

“Who?” Adare asked, trying to make sense of the elliptical statements. “Who destroyed you?”

“The ones who made us. Who made us what we were.” She grimaced. “What we are.”

“Atmani,” Adare breathed quietly.

For a long time, Nira didn’t respond, not even to nod. She turned from Adare to gaze on her brother’s sleeping face, on his chest, slowly rising and falling.

“You have trusted me with your secret, girl,” she said finally, not looking up, “and now you have mine. Betray it, and I will tear out your heart.”

15