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They snickered.

The dagger was useless. My magic was too. Every time I launched an attack, more demons appeared.

A winged tiger swatted a paw at Benkai’s feathers, and a bat nipped its sharp teeth into Kiki’s wings until my paper bird fled in terror. Others still were more interested in the basket, prowling up its sides and stripping it of parts.

Feeling cornered, I turned once more to the pearl.

It was humming a low song, the way it tended to in the presence of danger. As I drew it out of my satchel, its power fanned out beyond my control, ensnaring the demons in plumes of bright white light.

Their shrieks were like knives against glass, loud and shrill. Wings thrashed and tails whipped, claws and talons flailing as the demons struggled to be free of the harsh pearlescent light. I twisted around, watching the demons drop back into their teeming swarm and retreat to the islands below.

I expelled a sigh of relief. A premature sigh of relief, unfortunately.

I’d forgotten about Bandur.

He leapt into the basket, fur spiked and blood-red eyes piercing. This time he didn’t wait. He pounced, and I braced myself.

The attack never came.

Takkan had stirred, and he held the amulet to the sky. It was nearly dawn, and the last threads of moonlight sieved through the clouds, touching upon the amulet.

“Return!” Takkan shouted. “Return, Bandur!”

At the command, Bandur’s body began to writhe and contort, as if yanked by invisible strings toward the amulet. The demon spun angrily to confront Takkan. “You think you have the strength to best me?”

Takkan didn’t reply, but he rose, standing face to face with Bandur. A silent war broke out between them, the demon pushing and striving against Takkan’s control. Sweat beaded Takkan’s temples. He took a step back and clenched his jaw, his eyes going white as he strained against the demon.

At last, Bandur jerked away. “I will have your soul for this,” he swore.

In one last effort, his claw struck out and caught Hasho by the wing, ripping through feather and bone. Then, with a hiss, Bandur vanished back into the amulet.

The basket careened, the ropes slipping first from Hasho’s beak, then from my other brothers’.

Down, down, we plummeted into Tambu, the origin of demons—and the birthplace of my stepmother, the Nameless Queen.

A leafy canopy broke our fall. Takkan and I tumbled out of the basket in opposite directions, crashing through a web of outstretched branches to the jungle floor.

Thud.

Insects skittered, leaves crunched, and branches snapped. Light shimmered in waves, glistening like hot oil, and sweat trickled from my pores.

With what strength I had, I scrambled onto my forearms, my elbows sinking into the warm, moist earth. Then I went still, remembering belatedly to scan for demons.

Nothing.

When I was sure it was safe, I pushed up to my feet, sweeping away the fronds that brushed against my waist. “Takkan?” I called out. “Kiki?”

The rain had ended, and sunlight yawned through the canopy, a sight that spurred me into motion. It was past dawn, so my brothers should be men again. But where were they? Their transformations weren’t exactly peaceful and quiet. Surely I would have heard their cries.

A flash of red silk penetrated the fog, and I scrambled toward it. There, not far from the basket, lay Takkan. Kiki and my brothers, too—but they were still cranes!

Leaves and dirt clung to Takkan’s skin. He was breathing, but unconscious. My heart pounding, I quickly inspected him. There were new tears in his tunic, exposing a tanned shoulder and more of the scars I’d left on his chest. But he was unharmed, thank Emuri’en. I propped him against a tree and dotted away the beads of sweat on his nose with my fingers.

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “Hasho…,” he mumbled, his eyes starting to peel open. “His wing…”

Not understanding, I twisted to face my brothers. There were only five of them, all squawking sounds I couldn’t understand.

Panic seized me. “Where’s Hasho?”