The Mantle's meeting room resembled the control room back at the rebel base, with a circular table dominating most of the space, overshadowed by a crumbling statue of the First Guardian with her head tilted to the ceiling and palms stretched wide in her traditional sacrificial posture. Instead of the jewel-toned mural at the rebel base, cave art swirled across the wall behind the statue.

Fraschkit sat facing away from me, along with Guardians Manikbar, Rapchuk, and Vanchbar, and humans Baggunt and Zuzette. Facing me, the Mantle's representatives included Brother Bakvar, four humans, and...was that a Demon? The woman with white-blond hair emanated an inhuman energy, and her features were too crisp, as though drawn with a straight-edge.

The blond woman's gaze lifted, and blazing amber eyes bore into me. Even though I had spent the night with an amber-eyed man I cared for deeply, this unexpected encounter sent a chill down my spine. She sat between two humans, and her wrists were uncuffed, so the Mantle must have trusted her...but I wasn't sure that meant I should trust her.

Belatedly, I realized that everyone in the room had stopped talking and now stared at me.

Fraschkit pushed back her chair and stood. "Remgar, how is your father?"

"He seems to have recovered now, but he had another vision. I think what he said may influence our planning, so I'd like to share it with everyone here—if I have your permission."

She hesitated. "I am not Leader here, and Bakvar asked me to invite only six members of our team."

Baggunt shot to his feet. "Leader Frasch—I mean—well, you're still my Leader." He straightened his shirtsleeves and cleared his throat. "Brother Remgar is welcome to take my place at the table. I don't feel I have much to add."

Bakvar raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure you have much to add. I'm sorry humans on your team have been made to feel that way."

"Not by Fraschkit."

This statement came from Zuzette, which startled everyone at the table, me included. I had learned to expect incendiary statements from her, but defending a Guardian was something new. Everyone sent her questioning glances, with Fraschkit looking most baffled of all.

Zuzette tilted her chin high. "Fraschkit invited two humans to this meeting. That was a bold move." She shot Fraschkit a brief glance, and seeing the Leader's wide eyes, gave a shrug. "At least, it's progress for this group."

Neither Fraschkit nor Bakvar seemed to know how to respond to that, so a human from the Mantle took over—a bony man with a great mane of gray curls. "We don't recognize Fraschkit as Leader at the Mantle, but Bakvar is not Leader, either." He flipped a frail palm toward me. "I vote we hear what this Guardian lad has to say."

Bakvar nodded, and he addressed the elderly human with far more respect than he had given me and Fraschkit. "You're right, Jafflu. Guardians do not rule over humans here at the Mantle." He offered Fraschkit a crude imitation of a smile. "So, all in favor of letting one more outsider Guardian join us?"

Zuzette was the first to raise her hand, and most of the others joined her. Baggunt and Manikbar waited to see Fraschkit's hand before lifting their own. Just Bakvar and the Demon woman kept their hands down.

The human with the lavish gray curls—Jafflu—pointed at me and then at the open seat beside him. "You got the majority, boy. Take a seat."

It had been a long time since anyone had addressed me as 'boy,' and I had never had a human call me that. The Mantle seemed to operate differently from any group I had been a part of—and I was starting to think that might be a good thing. So I nodded in gratitude and sank into the seat.

I began by delivering my father's vision word-for-word, as best as I could remember. Everyone listened quietly at the start, but when I told them the Morgabeast was unleashed rather than summoned, and that it was using Isalio instead of serving him, the Demon woman snorted.

"Well, either this Guardian is delusional or his father is. That's not how beasts work." She uncurled her fist, and an oversized fly zipped into the air. No, not a fly—it was a slimy rodent with glistening fangs and shimmering wings.

Bakvar nodded at her. "Eranea, can you explain to everyone how Demons get their beasts?"

"When Demons Snap, the Sky Realm splits open for a moment. When the Demon is powerful enough and her soul calls out in need, a beast claws through to serve her. Sometimes, I grant Bazabeast the freedom to go wherever he wants..." The fly buzzed across the table, and Baggunt and the Guardians from our team flinched back. "But I'm always aware of his intentions, and he obeys my every command."

The fly zipped back into her palm, and she stroked its slimy back with her thumb. "The Bazabeast has never killed anyone—not because he can't, but because I have never allowed him to do it." Her amber gaze locked on me, and she closed her hand over the beast. "But if I did allow him to kill, wouldn't it be convenient to claim I was losing control of him? Or better yet—that I never even summoned him in the first place?"

I blew an exhale and shook my head. Though I didn't believe her words for even a second, I could see the logic in her thinking. No one else had heard the prophecy, and they all must have known I was not an unbiased messenger.

"I know it's hard to believe, but it's true," I said. "The Morgabeast is different from any other beast, and my father said earth and sky must work together to banish it."

I expected Eranea and Bakvar to scoff at this statement, but instead, they exchanged a wide-eyed glance.

"Could it be...?" said Bakvar.

I looked between them. "Have you heard something about this before?"

Eranea sighed. "Not heard, exactly, but...there's a reason the Mantle decided to allow some Demons to take refuge here."

Bakvar nodded. "I was part of the group that discovered this cave fourteen years ago. Rediscovered it, I should say. This art was here long before we arrived." He tilted his head toward the art decorating the cave wall at the side of the room. "Based on our best estimations, it's been here for centuries."

Fraschkit and the other Guardians from our team immediately rose to get a closer look, as did Zuzette. Baggunt remained seated until Fraschkit and I gestured for him to join us. Standing by the wall, we studied the ancient art: rusty red scratch marks, buttercup yellow swirls, and black scribbles.

I squinted at the art, struggling to determine the meaning. Then my eyes relaxed, and a presence from below took over, reaching up through my feet to wrap around me, whirling me away to a different time and place.

The ancient sketches took physical form; the black scribbles exploded into a great beast, and the yellow and red swooped and stormed to face the threat. The yellow and red fought hard, slashing, stabbing, screaming—but the black kept growing larger, larger...dread suctioned the breath from my lungs, like it had the night my family died.

A hand clamped on my shoulder, and I jumped and spun toward Bakvar.

"You see it, don't you?" he said.

I inhaled deeply to calm my hammering heart before managing a reply. "The Morgabeast has been here before?"

"If your father's prophecy is true, that seems likely. But what we know with near certainty is that the Mantle's first inhabitants were depicting Demons"—he gestured to the red paintings on the top, then dropped to the yellow smears—"and Guardians. And they aren't fighting each other; they are fighting together."

I swung a glance around the silent room, gauging reactions. Some nodded in acceptance, and others cocked their heads in skepticism, but no one was able to deny Bakvar's words. Even those who hadn't seen the painting come to life must have seen the logic in his description of the strange art.

"My father realized that same truth," I whispered. "Maybe Guardians and Demons were never supposed to be enemies; maybe they were supposed to work together to defeat a greater evil. My father said 'together is our only chance.'"

Eranea shook her head. "Even together, what chance do we stand?"

Jafflu hummed. "Eranea, let's hear him out first."

"We don't know anything about this Guardian," said Bakvar. "And I trust what Eranea has to say about other Demons above what any Guardians says."

I raised my eyebrows. It was the first time I had heard another Guardian defend a Demon—and based on the way he cradled her name, I wondered if we might have more in common than that.

It was the same way I said Isalio's name.

"The Mantle has five Demons," said Eranea, "And only three of us have beasts. Your group has one Demon, and I'm still not convinced he is our ally. Our two groups combined have maybe forty Guardians, thirty human warriors, and over a hundred humans who are just burdening us." When Zuzette huffed, Eranea rolled her eyes. "Wrong word choice, fine. All of the humans at the Mantle pull their own weight, but most don't know how to fight. Anyway, the palace killed far more fighters than we have here before the Demons became so powerful, and the Morgabeast alone could eat us all for breakfast."

Fraschkit rolled back her shoulders. "We are still recruiting more allies. If we can persuade the rest of the Guardians to join us instead of following Borgal—"

"Then the Morgabeast might be able to call it lunch."

Bakvar nodded. "The Mantle won't be joining your fight. We went into hiding to escape all of this."

Fraschkit pressed her tongue against her teeth...then sank back and closed her mouth.

Jafflu rapped his knuckles against the table. "Now, hold on there. I'm a pacifist, when such an option exists. But even if no one else at the Mantle is ready to admit it, we'll have to face the truth—eventually, we will all starve. Our scavengers who stay close are finding less and less food, and those who go further..." He swung a glance across the representatives from the Mantle, and they pressed their lips together. "Well, they're not coming back."

The human woman beside Jafflu covered her face and whimpered.

Jafflu patted the woman's shoulder. "I'm not talking about this last group. I'm sure your husband will return soon."

"It's already been two days," she whispered into her hands.

"Maybe they found another person seeking refuge. You know our scavengers always take longer when they meet someone who needs help, since they have to decide whether to invite them to the Mantle."

"Oh, great," muttered one of the other humans. "Another mouth to feed."

"We'll send out more scavengers," Bakvar said.

"Eventually, one of our scavengers will be captured by the palace," said Jafflu. "And as soon as the palace finds out about the Mantle, they'll kill or capture everyone here."

Manikbar dropped a meaty fist on the table. "Jafflu's right. That's what happened to the rebel base, and to my peaceful village." He ran a hand over his handlebar mustache, I braced myself for an attack on Isalio—but to my surprise, he chose to focus on something more constructive. "If you all are lucky, the palace will destroy every other village before they find the Mantle...but someday, they will find it. So you can join our fight now, or you can fight the palace all by yourselves in the end."

Our eyes connected, and I nodded in respect. I could see now why Fraschkit continued to invite him to these meetings.

Fraschkit spoke next. "For fourteen years, Guardians have been waiting for the right moment." She shot a glance at Zuzette, as if expecting her to jump at the bait, but when the human only tilted her head and crossed her arms, Fraschkit continued. "All the while, humans have been dying, and the Demons keep growing stronger. It's time for us to accept that the right moment to fight back will never come. We can wait no longer."

For several beats, no one spoke. When Eranea broke the silence, her voice was much smaller than before.

"But up against such powerful enemies...what are we supposed to do?"

"My father said it comes down to me," I said, "Which makes no sense, except that I did notice..." Under a dozen scrutinizing gazes, my earlier observation sounded even more bizarre. I drew a breath. "Well, there's something I'd like to try."

I explained my theory as best as I could, all the while waiting to be laughed out of the room.

But somehow, I received the requisite majority of votes to test my theory.  Ten minutes later, I headed back toward Isalio's cell, turning the key to his cuff over and over in my fingers.

And praying I was right.

***

The moment the boulder rolled away, Isalio popped to his feet and started toward me. "You're back." He stopped ten feet away, taking in my expression and the set of my shoulders. "Are you...how's your father?"

"He's doing better, I think. He's awake and more or less himself again, whatever that means."

"Was he happy to see you?"

Logically, that question struck me as odd—but emotionally, it hit the target. I had been worried about that from the start, and Isalio seemed more in-tune to that than I was myself.

"Yes, I think he was. And thank you." I swallowed. "For persuading me to go."

He shrugged it off, but his lips quirked, and his eyes brightened. He looked so different from the High Prince who had ruled the palace by striking fear. I loved this expression—and I hated knowing that I was about to wipe it off his face.

"There's something else I need to tell you," I said.

As I had predicted, when I told him about my father's prophecy, his smile dropped. And when I pulled the key from my pocket, he stumbled back a few steps and hid his cuffed wrist behind his back.

"No."

"Why not?"

"You'll touch me."

"Yes, that's the point. Isalio, were you listening to anything I said? This is the only way."

He took one more step back and slid the wooden chair between us. "Even if your father was sharing a true vision and not just rambling, you're twisting his words into what you want to believe."

I frowned at the chair, disturbed by the idea that he felt this tiny physical barricade might deter me more than his own denial. "I don't want—ok, I do want to touch you without any cuff. But I'm not desperate enough to twist a prophecy into justifying my desires."

"I'm not talking about you wanting to touch me. I'm talking about you wanting to believe the beast made me do it. You're just desperate to justify defending me."

"You're just desperate to continue hating yourself. Think about it, Isalio. The two times you gave me lifeforce, we both ended up in better health than at the start. We are making each other stronger."

"That doesn't make sense. Every time someone gets something, another loses it."

I shook my head. "That's the kind of relationship you're used to. But I feel better when I'm with you, and I think you feel better with me, too. Am I wrong?"

His tongue worked against his teeth, but he didn't protest.

I continued. "Maybe that's how our lifeforce exchange works too—not zero sum, but symbiotic. We both gain lifeforce from trading back and forth...and we might even gain something more than that."

"Something more than lifeforce? What do you mean?"

"You asked me how I got us out of the Forest of Lost Beasts. You gave me lifeforce right before that."

He arched a black eyebrow. "You said it wasn't impressive because 'we weren't very far in.'"

"Well, we weren't, but I probably still shouldn't have succeeded. And during the battle at Sitaklasa, Fraschkit claims I killed more Demons and Scouts than everyone else combined. You gave me lifeforce then, too."

"A lucky coincidence."

"Lucky coincidence gave me ten times the strength and speed I normally possess? I don't think so." I took one step toward him. "Anyway, we can test my theory right now."

He stumbled back another step. "Stay away from me. It's too dangerous. You don't know how fucking tempting your lifeforce is."

"There are no risk-free options. You admitted that you're already losing control. If we don't find a way to destroy the beast soon, it'll kill me along with everyone else."

"There has to be another way." His voice choked. "This is...this is crazy."

I already saw his resolve crumbling: the flicker of acknowledgement in his eyes, the shaky inhale, the slow exhale. He already believed me, but he hated that this was what we had to do. So I made my next words as gentle as I could manage.

"We'll take it slowly, Isa. I won't touch you until you tell me you're ready."

"You won't touch me at all. I'll take the cuff off myself, and as soon as I'm uncuffed, you'll stay away from me. I'll come to you when I'm ready."

I nodded. "As you wish."

I dropped the key into his hand, and he retreated to the farthest point of the chamber. He struggled to slot the key into the cuff, and I realized his hands were shaking.

My chest tightened. "Isa, you've already been uncuffed around me, and you—"

"Don't talk!"

I held up my palms. "Ok."

He slid the cuff and key into his pocket, drew a breath, and stepped toward me.