For the first time in centuries, the Sadreans and the people of Erdas met and communed with one another. This was important, because it would take every living soul to repair the damage Zerif and the Wyrm had done. Every port Abeke and Rollan passed, they saw firsthand the destruction that the Greencloaks had wrought.
When Abeke finally saw Conor and Briggan waiting for them at the shore, she leaped clear off the edge of her ship onto the decks and sprinted toward him at a full run.
Conor, like the other Greencloaks, had recovered from his parasite infection. But just like them, he was haunted by his actions while under the Wyrm’s control. All traces of the youthful shepherd had disappeared, leaving him looking older, more wary. And just like the Greencloaks, he now had a thin, colorless scar on his forehead, only visible in certain light.
Rollan and Meilin were surprisingly awkward upon seeing each other again. Rollan, usually quick with a joke, said almost nothing, while Meilin rambled on with uncharacteristic speed. Neither made eye contact, or even tried to approach the other. It wasn’t until Jhi padded next to Meilin and shoved her straight into Rollan—forcing them into an accidental hug—that things began to turn back to normal.
They were a family restored—all of them together once more.
All but one.
Beyond the safety of her friends, Abeke had one all-consuming concern: What had happened to the Great Beasts that had been bonded with Zerif?
This was a question no one could answer. Not even Mulop, with his powers, had been able to sense Uraza’s presence. Some people speculated the Great Beasts had died when Zerif hurled himself into the lava. Others said that they had been released into the burning currents beneath Erdas and spread to a thousand shores.
But soon enough, reports began to arrive of Great Beasts being spotted all across the world.
A gallant elk emerged from the mists of Northern Amaya one morning, appearing to a tribe of nomadic hunters. The elk walked unworriedly through their encampment as the hunters gaped on, until it had reached their young healer.
In Southern Zhong, a crowded marketplace erupted into chaos one steamy evening as an enormous elephant appeared from the jungle, wearing silks across its back and bracelets on its tusks. A small grinning girl sat astride it, waving to the crowd.
In Eura, a band of pirates was arrested when their ship crashed near a port city. They claimed an eagle had ripped their sails to shreds just as they tried to seize a merchant vessel. After leaving a steaming present on the hull of their pirate ship, it landed on the arm of a girl with a dignified squawk.
One by one, every Great Beast reappeared—
Every beast but one.
Abeke didn’t know why Uraza remained hidden. Soon after the death of the Wyrm, the spot on her arm where Uraza’s tattoo would be began to tingle, which she took as proof that Uraza was out there somewhere. But for some reason, the Great Leopard had not tried to find her.
Then again, maybe Abeke already knew why. Every night as she went to sleep, her dreams returned to the horror of a possessed Uraza killing Shane—her sharp teeth locked around his lifeless body. And then she felt the wrenching pain of letting fly her own arrow straight into her spirit animal’s side.
At first, when Abeke had told her friends that she needed to leave in search of Uraza, they had tried to come with her. But she explained that she needed to do this alone. For six months, the huntress had kept her ear to the ground, searching for rumors of the great Uraza. The rumors had taken her to nearly every continent, but everywhere she went, she found nothing.
Now, at last, her search had brought her to Stetriol. The last place on Erdas. The jungles here were dangerous. Beasts that had once been enslaved by the Bile lurked in the untamed wilds—their anger at humans meant that more than a few of them would be happy to eat her if she wasn’t careful. But she couldn’t turn back. She knew she was close. She had to be close.
Her arm seemed to sense the spirit bond between her and Uraza. The tingling sensation grew, until she could almost feel it vibrating as she came closer to her prey. Abeke wanted to call out, to let Uraza know she was there, but she was afraid to frighten her off.
There was a rustling in the jungle beneath her. Abeke turned around and saw something watching her from the shadows. Something with flashing purple eyes. The eyes held her gaze for a moment, and then a sleek golden leopard poured out from between the leaves.
Not since that first day in Okaihee had the sight of her spirit animal filled Abeke with such unrestrained joy. She nearly burst into tears right there.
Instead, Abeke just grinned, leaping down from the trees.
Uraza stepped forward, watching her tentatively. Abeke had expected the leopard to be angry with her, perhaps even fearful. Instead, she was surprised to see shame in Uraza’s violet eyes.
Abeke extended a slow, shaking hand outward. Just as slowly, the leopard brought her face forward—and nuzzled into her palm.
With that touch, everything was right again. Joy flooded through Abeke like rain on a parched savannah. Suddenly she was crying, harder than she had let herself cry in a long while.
Apologies would come with time. Apologies and forgiveness. For now, Abeke’s body was electric with relief. Unsure what to do with this sudden rush of energy, she whooped into the trees.
Uraza purred heavily, slinking away. Her eyes flashed with a playful gleam. Abeke suspected that her spirit animal had some ideas for how to celebrate their reunion. In seconds, the leopard had disappeared into the brush.
Abeke’s face split into a smile as she followed Uraza into the trees.
The hunt was on.
Jonathan Auxier writes strange stories for strange children—including Peter Nimble and His Fantastic Eyes, The Night Gardener, and Sophie Quire and the Last Storyguard. Raised in Canada, Jonathan now lives in Pittsburgh with his wife and family.
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Library of Congress Control Number: 2016940992
ISBN 978-0-545-83214-4
First edition, September 2016
Cover illustration by Angelo Rinaldi
Cover design by Charice Silverman & Rocco Melillo
Art Direction by Keirsten Geise
Metal frame: © caesart/Shutterstock
Wood texture: © CG Textures
e-ISBN 978-0-545-83215-1
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