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“Heal my sister,” I order them. “Heal her. Save her. I command you.”

The pearl halves hum, and Nakri’s words come back to me unbidden: the pearl has a mind of its own.

What did she mean by that? Is the pearl choosing not to save Vanna? I let out a frustrated cry. Time is running out, and I don’t know how to use this magic. I don’t know how to save Vanna.

“Enough, Channi,” she says, pulling on my arm. “It’s all right. Let go.”

I won’t set the pearl down. I know it has the power to heal her. Even if it won’t take her back, it can help her. It must.

Listen to your sister, says Ukar. She has a request to make of you.

Vanna places her hand over mine. The radiance from the pearl halves fans over her skin, as if giving her strength. “Take me to the water,” she says. “I want to dip my feet in the sea. I always loved that. I’ve missed it.”

How can I refuse?

I rise to my knees, still holding Vanna, but Oshli backs away. I incline my chin at him. Are you coming?

He gives a pained shake of his head.

“Just you and me, Channi.” Vanna smiles at me, a particular smile I haven’t seen in years. “Like old times.”

I remember the day she was born, to the moment she first opened her eyes and saw me—newly a monster—and smiled. Oh, how her little face beamed and shone at the sight of me, with pure happiness I’ve seldom seen on her face since.

I think of all the times I’ve clucked my tongue at Vanna for giving in to what Adah asks of her, never fighting for the future she wants, never chasing the love she deserves. I thought her weak, I thought her shallow and selfish.

I do not deserve her.

I lift her carefully, and she does not move. Her face is turned to my chest, and as I carry her, I can feel the ridges of her spine, the fragile intake of her breath as her ribs go in and out. More than anything, I wish my blood had the power to heal, not hurt. I would give my life for that to be true.

“Stay with me, Vanna,” I whisper. “Stay strong.”

The sea is too far, so I settle for a nearby pond. It’s one I know intimately, where Ukar and his siblings swim often, and where I used to practice on days when I could bear the sight of my own reflection. It’s also the pool where I come to pluck orchids for Vanna’s birthday. I rue the fact that I don’t see any now.

I lay her against the trunk of a tree that overlooks the water. She’s lost her slippers, and there are leaves between her toes. I brush them off before I slide her feet into the cool pond.

“This is beautiful,” Vanna whispers. “It reminds me of home. Remember our little hut near the beach? It was so close, but I always made you carry me there.”

It hurts to swallow. “I remember.” I pretend to tease her. “You were so spoiled back then. You made me take you almost every day.”

“We’d sculpt snakes in the sand, and then Ukar would blend in until we couldn’t tell what was sand and what was snake.” Vanna chuckles. “Then I’d run up and down the beach, and nothing I did could make you come into the sea with me.”

“Except for that one time you pretended to drown.”

Vanna smiles. “That was cruel. I didn’t understand why you hated the water back then.”

She falls quiet, watching the currents dance past her toes. A butterfly lands on her wrist, and I wave the creature away, but Vanna raises her fingers to stop me. “Don’t. I’ve been waiting for them to come.”

“The butterflies?”

A nod. “They’re my favorite.”

“You never told me why you love them so much.”

Vanna smiles to herself. “There’s a story I learned in school, about a pair of lovers that couldn’t be together. They prayed and prayed to Su Dano, and out of mercy she turned them into butterflies. Every year when spring comes, they’re reborn and find each other, and they’re happier than in any other life.”

I take her hand in mine.

“Butterflies celebrate all love, Channi, because every love is precious. And mine for you, above all. That love is forever.”