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As soon as I asked, the fog lifted, and I saw.

My youngest brother lay curled, his entire body tucked against himself. His throat hummed painfully, and his belly shook with every breath. I crouched beside him, taking in the wings furled tightly at his side. His left wing was smoldering, its feathers charred.

“Hasho,” I choked.

“It was Bandur,” said Takkan, the tenor of his voice gone low. “I couldn’t stop him in time. I’m sorry.”

I didn’t know what to say. My attention was fixed on the stripes of watery light caressing Hasho’s black wing—a sinking realization that he hadn’t changed back to a man. None of my brothers had.

Andahai thinks the enchantment is different this time, said Kiki. They won’t change back and forth.

I breathed in, my mind reeling. That is good, I told myself. In his state, Hasho couldn’t endure a transformation. “We need to find help for Hasho. There has to be a village on this island.”

I’ll look, offered Kiki, jumping to get a view from above. A beat later, she was fluttering back to us, crying, Snakes! Snakes!

Out of the trees, the rocks, even the bushes, snakes beset us. The fattest ones hung off long tree branches, their mottled scales melding in with the lush junglescape. The sight reminded me of how Raikama’s garden used to be. That was the only reason I wasn’t afraid.

They look hungry, Kiki said nervously. They’re staring at me. Maybe my paper is tasty to these Tambun serpents—I am becoming more like a real bird every day, you know.

“You’re still far from being a real bird, Kiki,” I replied. “Besides, cranes eat snakes, not the other way around.”

“Then ask your brothers to eat them.”

“No one’s eating anyone. Have you tried talking to them?”

I’ve been trying. My paper bird lifted a fearful wing. Wait—someone’s coming.

The snakes parted, making way for the largest serpent I had ever seen. Her scales blended into the palm leaves crinkling under her body, but as she slid out of the foliage, they transformed. Changing first to match the umber dirt, then fading to parchment white—the same shade as Raikama’s snake face.

Only the great snake’s eyes didn’t change. They were like slivered diamonds against a liquid yellow moon. Mesmerizing.

She rose, standing high as my waist. A forked tongue darted out, and she gave a long hiss.

Kiki shuddered.

“What’s she saying?” I asked.

She says her name is Ujal, and she asks if you are the daughter of Lady Green Snake.

“Lady Green Snake?”

The lady has been gone for many years, Kiki went on, but Ujal can smell remnants of her magic on you…daughter of Channari.

At the name, a note of grief hummed in my chest. “She knew my stepmother?”

“Her father did.”

Raikama’s past was a mystery I longed to unravel, but I bit my tongue, holding back the urge to ask the serpent more. Now wasn’t the time.

I knelt, leveling my gaze respectfully with Ujal’s. “My brother is injured. Do you know where we might seek aid?”

Her scales changed color once more as she slithered back in the direction she’d come.

By the time I rose and Takkan picked Hasho up, Ujal had disappeared into the dense undergrowth. I feared I had lost sight of her, but her snakes had waited. They showed us the way, moving as one and with impressive speed, like a billowing cloth rippling over the earth.

I kept my eyes on the ground. Thick roots bulged in our path, often hidden under a mantle of leaves and wildflowers. We passed a grove of black bamboo trees and too many waterfalls to count, but everything else was green. Ujal could have led me in circles and I would never have known.

The dawn burned into morning, and the sun turned harsh, stewing and thickening the air. My breathing had become a series of pants, and my clothes weighed on my skin, sticky with perspiration. Kiata’s hottest days were nothing compared to this.