the crypt, but there was something different about him. His shoulders were hunched as if carrying a heavy weight, and his mismatched eyes looked haunted.
“If you wish to pass through our lands and continue your search, you must give us a secret,” chanted the birds in the vision.
“I’ve given enough,” said the Sleeper hoarsely.
Aru felt a chill race across her arms. In the crypt he had sacrificed all his memories of childhood. And it showed. His clothes looked a little frayed, and his wedding band fit looser around his finger, as if he’d lost weight.
“But you’ve given nothing to us,” said the birds.
The Sleeper inhaled deeply, seemingly to gather his strength. “A secret…” He placed his hand over his heart and said, “My wife said I could pick our daughter’s name, and I’ve found something that I hope will suit her,” he said. “I will name her Arundhati. For the morning star. So that my daughter will always be a light in the dark.”
The vision faded.
“This secret belongs more to you than us, Arundhati.”
The head chakora nudged the pebble into a splinter of moonlight, which lifted it from the ground and floated it over to Aru. Before she could grab it, the bright stone lodged itself into the second hollow on her pendant.
Two lost memories of the Sleeper now dangled from her neck.
Aru stood there, numb. She wondered how many times the Sleeper had said her name before her mother trapped him in the diya. Just that once? Twice? Ten times? Had he thought of the name when he was stuck in that lamp for all those years and come to hate it—and her? Or had he given up so much of himself by the end that it didn’t bother him at all? Aru wasn’t sure which thought made her sadder.
In all these years, Aru had never thought to ask her mom about the origin of her name. She wished she had, if only so it wouldn’t feel like such a horrible surprise to know this connection to the Sleeper. He’d named her. Out of love. With the hope that she’d be full of light.
And yet, when he’d first spoken to her, there’d been no love or light in his voice, just something cold and alien as he’d taunted, Oh, Aru, Aru, Aru…what have you done?
Aru squeezed her eyes shut.
What had she done? She could have asked him the same thing: What had he done? What had been done to both of them?
And what did it mean that he’d named her? What if she was more like him than she’d thought?
“It’s just a name, Shah,” said Aiden.
Aru jerked and opened her eyes to find him standing beside her.
“I was named Aiden because my parents couldn’t decide and picked something from the Internet,” he said.
“I got mine from my grandmother,” said Mini.
“Mine was chosen for its auspiciousness,” said Rudy loftily.
Brynne grunted. “Well, my name literally means hill, and my mom chose it because I turned out to be a girl and she couldn’t use the name Brian.”
That made Aru look up sharply. “Brian? You would’ve been Brian?”
“Yep,” said Brynne, grinning. “Watch out, world.”
Aru laughed, feeling somewhat better.
“It’s just a name,” she said, mostly to herself.
But in her heart, she knew it was more than that. It was a promise that had been ripped from her. A treasure she hadn’t even realized she’d lost. Before he came to be the Sleeper, Suyodhana was just someone who wanted to be her dad. Maybe he would’ve been the one who nicknamed her Aru first, howling it like a wolf: Aroooooo! Maybe it would’ve started out a joke between them instead of something she’d done to make fun of herself before anybody else could.
A terrible ache of loss settled in her chest, and Aru tried to hide it. She didn’t want to feel this confusing mix of anger and pity and pain, much less show it. It would make people believe all the more that she was destined to turn on them. To become the “untrue” sister.
Aiden faced the chakora birds. “We’ve done our part and spoken our secrets. Now it’s your turn. Read the piece of moonlight for us so we know where to go.”
“Are you sure you don’t want to stay longer?” asked Sohail plaintively.
Aru hadn’t noticed until now that he’d hopped closer to Vajra…and that her lightning bolt didn’t seem to mind.
The elder birds nodded and lifted off their moon branches, circling over Rudy, who held out the thin pane. The moonbeams