yet the world was new. Besides the omnipresent emerald specks of magic in the air, there were smaller things that surprised Sora. Being able to see a faint green path through the seemingly chaotic mess of forest, for instance. Hana was beating her right now because she not only saw the path between trunks and jagged branches clearly; she also trusted it. Sora had the vision but had not yet acquired the trust to fling herself headlong toward wherever the magic directed her.
She caught up to Hana only when they reached Ao Hills, their stop for the evening. It was another two days to Copper Bluff. Perhaps less, considering ryuu speed.
Sora dropped to the dry grass on the ground. Hana was already roasting a fox she’d somehow caught and skinned in the time it took for Sora to arrive. The blond pelt had been cast aside.
How do I talk to her? Sora wondered. Hana had spoken little since they’d left the Striped Coves. Besides confirming that they were going to kill the empress, Hana hadn’t given any more details. Not how they were going to do this or where they were going. Sora wasn’t even sure if it was progress in their reconciliation that Hana had agreed to the mission, or if it was just following Prince Gin’s orders.
Maybe I’m thinking about this the wrong way. I’m focusing on me. I should think about her.
Maybe the best way to start a conversation would be to appeal to what Hana was most proud of—her ryuuness.
“I’m hesitant to hurl myself through the trees, even though the path is obvious,” Sora said. “I only hope I can be as good with the magic someday as you are. How do you do it?”
Hana didn’t say anything for a few minutes. Sora let her turn the spit in silence, with only the crackling flames to interrupt.
“You’re slow because you’re afraid of crashing into a trunk or not being able to fit through a crooked opening between trees,” Hana finally said. She didn’t look away from the flames as she spoke. “But the magic won’t steer you wrong. If you let yourself go and have faith in it, it’ll work.”
The fox meat suddenly caught on fire. “Crow’s eyes!” Hana cursed.
For a moment, Sora found a tiny spark of joy that her little sister still favored the swearwords that Sora had always liked, the ones she used to tell Hana she was too young to use. Sora grabbed a dead branch and used its leaves to slap at the flames on the meat.
The fire snuffed out, leaving a charred carcass on the spit.
Hana’s fierce exterior broke, and she looked young all of a sudden, not the hard Virtuoso she usually liked to be.
Oh, stinkbug, Sora thought. She wanted to gather her sister in her arms. But it was too soon for that.
“We can scrape off the burnt part,” Sora said. “I’m sure the meat underneath is still edible.”
“I’m not hungry,” Hana said. She pouted at the other supplies they’d brought. A jumble of poles and canvas leaped to attention and assembled itself, magically, of course, into a tent in less time than it had taken for Sora to put the fox fire out.
Sora smiled. There was pride in watching your little sister surpass your abilities. Even if it stung a little.
She left Hana alone to let out her frustration. If this was anything like the tantrums she used to throw when she was a tenderfoot, Hana would run out of steam in a few minutes. Sora turned back to the smoldering remains of the fire, the embers still popping in the remnants of the wood.
As she sat there watching the smoke curling into the sky, though, a dull headache took root. It wasn’t sharp, but more like a constant thrum or a quiet drumbeat at the back of her skull. The rhythm was so well established, it was as if it had been there for a long while. There was also something strangely familiar about it.
What was it?
The mild throb continued, slow and steady. For some reason, it reminded Sora of being asleep, on the cusp of waking.
Thump. Thump. Thump. Like muffled knocking on a door.
Thump. Thump. Thump.
Oh. Sora sat up and pressed her hand to the back of her head. She could practically feel the beat in her fingers.
Her gemina bond.
The drumming felt like Daemon pushing gently against her mental ramparts on weekend mornings when she slept in, trying to wake her so they could go