inferior life.
“You weren’t foolish,” Sora said, crouching and putting her arm around him. “You wanted something different, and you were brave enough to chase it, even though it cost you everything.”
“You can be brave and stupid at the same time,” Daemon muttered.
“Maybe so,” Sora said. “But regardless, you’re our brave and stupid.” She sent him a wave of pride and loyalty, hoping he’d understand how much she meant it.
It seemed to at least wash away some of his bewilderment over what Liga had told him.
Daemon let out a long exhale. Then he looked up to face his half brother. “I’m sorry for the offense I caused our father—and you and all my siblings—by leaving Celestae. But I’m a different person now than the wolf you knew before. It sounds like I was spoiled and naive and ungrateful then.”
“And now?” Liga asked.
“I’d like to think I’m a better version of myself.”
Liga nodded thoughtfully.
With the break in their conversation, Broomstick rose and approached Liga. “I have a question. How were you able to leave Celestae if Wolf needed Luna’s help years ago? Do some demigods have permission to come and go, but others don’t?”
“I could come because Wolf invited me just now in his prayers,” Liga said. “Eighteen years ago when he wanted to leave, he had no such invitation from someone on earth.”
“Oh,” Broomstick said. “That’s it?”
“Indeed,” Liga said.
Fairy joined them. “I have a question, too. You said you came because you heard our pleas and you were curious?”
He arched a brow. “Yes?”
“We need to know where Zomuri’s treasure vault is.”
“Why?”
Fairy looked to Sora.
Sora tried to sound persuasive. “Because Prince Gin gave his soul to Zomuri as part of a bargain, and we have to steal it, reunite the soul with the Dragon Prince, murder him, and save Kichona.”
The corners of Liga’s eyes crinkled in amusement. “You want to steal from a god?” He turned to Daemon. “Brother, I see you’re keeping similar company to your friends in Celestae. You always were attracted to mischief.”
Sora’s cheeks reddened. Luckily, no one else seemed to notice. They were all focused on Liga.
“Unfortunately, I cannot help you to the vault,” he said. “Zomuri has fortified it with protections that repel gods, because he is paranoid that we want to steal from him, as if we care about human trinkets. No offense, of course.”
“None taken,” Fairy said. “But let me understand—are you saying that the vault is in Celestae?”
“Goodness, no,” Liga said. “Zomuri wants to keep his precious treasure as far away from all of us as possible. Just like he chose to live on earth, he also buried his vault here, although in an even more remote location than the sulfur caverns that he calls home. The vault is beneath what he calls the Lake of Nightmares.”
Sora shivered. That did not sound good.
“Where is this lake?” she asked.
Liga shrugged. “I do not know for sure. Somewhere very cold, I imagine. Gods loathe the cold, so none of us would bother to go there, no matter how glorious the treasure was.”
“Naimo Ice Caves.” Sora gasped. They were glacial underground labyrinths in the southernmost part of Kichona. Both remote and bone-chillingly frigid. “I’m willing to bet that the lake is there.”
The others thought it over, listing other chilly places in Kichona. But after a few minutes, they agreed that Naimo Ice Caves was the most daunting—and the coldest—of the possibilities.
“Assuming that’s where the Lake of Nightmares is,” Broomstick said, “we still have a problem. If the vault is protected against gods and demigods, then how do we have a chance?”
The lines around Liga’s eyes creased again, as if he were barely restraining his laughter.
“What?” Broomstick said.
“We’re not important enough for the gods to worry about,” Fairy said. She turned to Liga for confirmation, although she was surprisingly unperturbed. “Isn’t that right? It’s kind of like what you were saying, that you don’t care about human trinkets.”
“It isn’t that we don’t care about humans,” Liga said. “It’s more that we don’t notice you all that often. For example, how closely have you been paying attention to those ants?” He pointed to a tree on the far side of the grove. Sora couldn’t even see the ants without a hawkeye spell, let alone expend any thought to what they were doing.
“And how worried are you about them stealing your things or ruining your plans?” Liga asked.
Daemon grumbled, but it came out more like an offended growl. “Humans aren’t ants.”
“It’s an imperfect analogy—” Liga began to explain.
“I understand,” Sora