Something sparkled in the corner of my eye. I stopped my search a half a step past it, and it vanished. Sunlight poured in from the window at my back, illuminating a patch of blackened stone. I stepped back, and it glinted again.

I had to duck under a fallen beam to reach the spot, but once on the other side, I could see the sparkle clearly. Something lay buried beneath the stones and months-old straw from the crows’ nests. My mind whispered this was foolish, to stop before I was disappointed, but I ignored it.

As I carefully moved aside stones, filling the air with dust and ash, the glint turned to a soft, blue-black glow. Something hummed, vibrating against my skin like lightning-charged wind in a storm. Calming, like a familiar comfort I’d forgotten. It slipped beneath my skin, into my muscles and blood, my very bones, chasing away the ice settled there.

I moved the last stone and stilled.

I knew what I was looking at. Even as I touched the ethereal shell, glittering like the night sky trapped in glass, even as my brain rejected the hulking size, the silklike feel, and the undeniable hum of magic, I knew.

It was a storm crow egg.

Careful not to touch the remaining unstable stone pile, I reached in and pulled the egg toward me. It was nearly as large as my torso, and the more I touched it, the stronger the humming became. Bending deep with my knees for leverage, I hoisted the egg into my arms.

Something cracked, and everything happened very fast. The stone shifted, and I tugged the egg back just as something seized my dress and flung me away from the crumbling stone. The ground shuddered as the stone collapsed, crushing wood and broken glass. Dust and ash erupted into the air as debris swallowed the hole, burying the spot I’d been standing in.

I lay blinking at the floating specks in the sunlight, the crow egg clasped to my chest. My heart drummed against it. Kiva stood next to me, her hands on her knees as she caught her breath. Her pale eyes stared down at me accusingly.

Then she saw the egg. “Is that what I think it is?”

“Oh, don’t worry. I’m fine. Thanks for asking.”

“I know you’re fine. I just saved your life.” She helped me to my feet.

I started to dust myself off and gave up. My dress would need a proper cleaning. Sighing, I held out the egg. The sunlight rippled around it, as if being drawn in and absorbed by the celestial shell. The thrumming had quieted but still resonated along my hands like the hum of a plucked string.

“Do you hear that?” I asked.

“That’s the sound of your stupidity ringing in your head.”

“Quieter than that—the egg.”