Ma sighed, not confirming nor denying the statement. “The sky goddess works in mysterious ways. Perhaps she has a reason for keeping your magic hidden.”
“Can we pray to Prophet Zaal or Sant Javer instead? How about the earth god from Prithvi or the fire goddess from Jwala? Maybe the sea god from Samudra—”
“Shhhhhh, my girl. We are from Ambar, a land named after the sky itself. Our souls are linked to the goddess who lives up there, the goddess who gave birth to Asha, our first queen. We do not share the same sort of affinity to the gods and the goddess from the other kingdoms, or to human prophets.”
“That’s not true!” I protest. “Several children at my school pray to the fire goddess. And nearly as many follow the teachings of Prophet Zaal!” The Zaalians, as I knew, didn’t believe in the gods at all, but in the raw power of magic alone. I didn’t really understand how praying to a prophet would help me, but I was willing to give anything a shot.
“Yes, people do pray to other gods and prophets, but you are different, my daughter,” Ma told me, her eyes bright, more intense than I’d seen them before. “Ten years ago, I prayed to the sky goddess for a child, and she answered my prayers by giving me you. Your connection to her will always be stronger than to any other deity.”
Yet, in the months that followed, the sky goddess never spoke to me, never responded to my prayers or pleas to strengthen my magic. By the time I turned ten, I stopped praying to her altogether.
Where are you, Sky Goddess? I think now, looking heavenward. Anger tempers my grief for a brief moment. Why didn’t you protect my parents?
As expected, there is no answer.
Something crawls over my right arm, bites the tender flesh. A bloodworm. Long-bodied, many-legged. The insect, found all across Ambar, isn’t poisonous. But it will feast on my blood until its body turns scarlet, leaving behind a jagged scar on my skin. I have many such scars on my feet and calves from my childhood—from playing barefoot in the sand with my cousin Pesi, before he accidentally saw my birthmark and told his mother about it.
“I didn’t push up my sleeves,” I cried out to my parents. “I promise!” It was the one promise I never broke, ever since I saw what happened to the only other girl in Sur village who had been cursed with a birthmark like mine. The sound of her screams as the local thanedars dragged her off to prison still rings in my ears at night. No one knows what happened to that girl, and even if they do, no one ever speaks of it.
“I will make sure it never happens to you, Gul,” Ma vowed.
We had already moved four times in the twelve years since I was born, but once my aunt and uncle found out, my parents didn’t want to take any chances. We packed our belongings and slipped out once more into a starlit night, journeying farther and farther west, until we reached a hamlet at the edge of the desert. Dukal. The smallest and sleepiest of Ambar’s villages, where the only newsworthy thing that ever happened was someone breaking wind in the marketplace. Two years have passed since then. A long stretch of boredom punctuated with terror.
My mother’s last three fingers are curled inward, the index finger pointing up, as if clutching an invisible weapon. Stiffness has begun to set in, the way it does when a body dies, the magic seeping from the skin and into the air, leeching it of vitality.
I wonder who tipped off the Sky Warriors about our newest location. Any one in the village might have been tempted by the reward King Lohar offers. A hundred swarnas is a lot of gold—enough to feed a family of four for a year. No one would have felt guilty about sending the Sky Warriors our way: a strange man, woman, and girl who kept apart from the rest of the villagers, rarely ever mingling with them.
Why did they report us now, though? I wonder. What tipped them off?
I guess I’ll never know.
I rise slowly to my feet, dirt falling off me in clumps, and stagger to my mother’s body. My gaze is drawn to her neck—bare of the necklace that Papa had given her only this morning. It lies next to her body now, broken, its silver beads scattered on the ground.
I pick up three of the beads with the foggiest idea of stringing them back together. Maybe this is a dream. Maybe if I string the beads together, I’ll be able to bring Ma back, I think before nausea sets in.
When my vision clears again, the air around me reeks of vomit. The bloodworm has left behind a red moon-shaped ridge on my arm.
I wonder if it’s meant to mock my cursed star.
2GUL
Shortly after the Sky Warriors leave, villagers from Dukal enter our house, glass lanterns held high above their heads. Who was it? I wonder. Which of these people reported us to the Sky Warriors? Fear kicks under my ribs. I remain hidden, crouched near the railing of the first-floor balcony.
From the spot where I watched the Sky Warrior kill my father, I now watch the villagers carry his corpse out of our house, leaving behind nothing except a dark patch of blood staining the floor. A few others troop upstairs toward the roof, forcing me to duck around a corner and press up against the wall. Long moments later, I hear them come back down. I risk a peek and see a pair of women carrying my mother’s body down the stairs.
“Both parents are dead. Goddess help them,” I hear a woman say out loud. “They were foolish to keep the girl hidden for so long. Did they think we wouldn’t find out?”
“How did you find out?” another woman
