ru felt time slow around her.

They’d failed.

The Council of Guardians had been clear about the power of the prophecy. The Pandavas’ only job had been to make sure the Sleeper’s soldiers didn’t hear it, and they’d failed. Aru felt like someone had taken a bite out of her soul.

Something bright glinted from the corner of her vision, and she noticed the shoelaces of her customized sneakers sparkling. Great. The Council had tracked them, and now someone was on their way to meet them.

“What are we going to do?” moaned Mini, pacing in a tight circle.

“This isn’t totally our fault,” said Brynne, pointing at Sheela. “Why couldn’t you just hold it in?”

Sheela had fallen to the floor once she’d delivered the prophecy. Nikita propped her up, asking, “Are you okay?”

Sheela looked dazed for a moment before yawning loudly and beaming at everyone. “I feel much better!”

“Better?” Brynne exploded. “Do you know what’s just happened?”

“Easy, Brynne,” said Aiden, laying a hand on her arm.

Sheela blinked, tilting her head. “No?”

“The prophecy?” ground out Brynne.

“Oh, right!” said Sheela, smiling. “I displaced cosmic energy from within myself and now it’s balanced again! Sometimes knowing the future is like eating way too much food—it gives you a stomachache and you need to lie down. Good job, me.”

“No,” said Brynne. “Bad job—”

Sheela looked confused.

“She couldn’t help it!” snapped Nikita, rushing to help her sister stand. “Her prophecies are always like that.”

“As a Pandava, you should be able to control yourself,” said Brynne, crossing her arms. “Or maybe you’re not one.”

Nikita narrowed her eyes. “What did you say?”

“Seemed kinda loud to me,” said Sheela, shrugging. But if she was as offended as her sister, it didn’t show.

“Welp,” said Aiden, pinching the bridge of his nose. “She went there.”

Mini edged closer to Aru. “Aru…do something.”

Nikita extended her wrist. Inky vines shot out, wrapping around Brynne’s ankles and pulling her to the ground.

“You little—” Brynne swung her mace and a gust of wind sent Nikita flying backward.

“Yeah, no,” said Aru, stepping away.

Nikita ran back and got too close to Brynne. Maybe she was trying to reach for the mace, or maybe she just tripped. But their fingers touched, and Aru felt a change in the air—a crackling like radio static deep within her bones. The skies parted above them. Two beams of light—one green and one silver—shot down from the skies…and lifted the twins off the ground.

Far above, Aru caught the silhouette of two horse-faced gods leaning out of the clouds as if they were looking down on the Pandavas from behind a huge bowl of sunshine. Nikita, in the beam of green light, floated toward the god on the left, who was surrounded by the glow of sunrise: rose-quartz pinks and dewy cream, and all the glittering potential of a new day. Sheela, in the beam of silver light, rose toward the god on the right, who was surrounded by the fire of sunset: scarlet and ruby-dark, and just beneath all that red…the mysterious promises of stars and nighttime.

Their soul fathers were none other than the Ashvin twins. Which could only mean that they were the reincarnations of Nakula and Sahadeva, the brothers famous for their beauty, archery and equestrian skills, and wisdom.

Aru had heard that the Ashvin twins were the physicians of the gods. Hanuman, who was a demigod and a patron of wrestling, often stopped by the Ashvins’ medical offices to get treatment for his lower-back pain.

You only get one body, he would say solemnly. You must take care of it.

Do you really only get the one? Aru once asked him. I mean, honestly, how many times has Arjuna been reincarnated now? That’s at least, like, five bodies.

Hanuman had not been amused.

Slowly, the twins drifted back to the ground. Unlike Mini, Brynne, and Aru, neither had been gifted with a weapon. But something small and penny-size glowed at the base of their throats. On Nikita, the object now embedded in her skin was a green heart. On Sheela, it was a silver star.

Nikita walked—no, strutted—toward Brynne.

“I forgive you,” she said.

“I didn’t apologize,” growled Brynne.

“Must’ve been hard to recognize me as another Pandava, considering my uniform,” said Nikita.

She touched her dress. Flowering jasmine branches wrapped their way around the cloth, creating a kind of hoop skirt before extending down into a glamorous train. A high collar made of frothy-looking pink azaleas grew around her neck. She cast a withering look at Aru, Mini, and Brynne.

Aru gazed down at her own outfit: dark jeans and a long-sleeved green tee with the word NOPE stamped across it. Mini was dressed in an all-black getup (“It hides dirt better!” Mini had said) and Brynne wore a blue romper that kinda looked like an apron, with the word HANGRY stitched across it.

“I’m sure your clothes repel enemies,” said Sheela kindly.

“Thanks,” said Aru drily. “If only that didn’t include the entire male population.”

Sheela lightly touched the star at her neck. She seemed completely unfazed by her Claiming, which made sense. She must have already known, Aru guessed. Sheela was able to tell the future, after all.

Did the clairvoyant understand the words she’d uttered? The Pandavas might have failed at preventing the Sleeper’s soldiers from hearing the prophecy, but if Aru and her friends could decipher all its mumbo jumbo, they would totally have an advantage over the Sleeper.

And yet, one part of the prophecy pricked at Aru’s brain like a thorn.

One sister shall turn out not to be true.

With a single choice the world shall receive its due.

Which sister? What did it mean? And how come, when Sheela had said it, her eyes hadn’t left Aru’s face…as if she’d seen something inside her? Something dangerous.

“Sheela, do you remember what you said?” asked Aru.

“Of course I do,” said Sheela dreamily.

“You mentioned something about a sister who wouldn’t be true,” said Aru. “What…what was that about?”

Sheela sighed, looking up at the sky, and in her faraway voice said, “I don’t know?” She twirled a little on the spot. “That’s just how the future is. It has a funny way of making itself true. I see stuff that other people can’t see yet.”

“Like what?” asked Mini.

“Well, right now I see an angry pigeon?”

“Boo!” shouted Aiden, waving his arms.

“I don’t think that will scare him off,” said Sheela solemnly. “Pigeons are kinda fearless.”

“That’s his name,” said Aiden.

“Fearless the Pigeon?” asked Sheela.

Nikita shuddered. “Pigeons are repulsive.”

From the folds of twilight-colored clouds, Boo dove toward them, squawking loudly before alighting on his favorite perch: Aru’s head.

“You’re late!” he squawked, and pecked her ear. “Look at all the feathers I lost waiting for you!”

“Are you taking your supplements?” asked Mini, concerned.

“Honestly, I think it’s all in your imagination,” said Brynne.

“One, yes. Two, no. Also, rude. And three—” Boo stopped mid-rant.

Aru couldn’t see what he was looking at, but she felt his clawed feet reposition in the direction of the twins.

“Oh gods…The targets were Pandavas? Am I to have no rest?”

As Aru had predicted, Boo tumbled over in a faint. She only just managed to catch him before he hit the ground. He stirred weakly in her hands, moaning something about “the cruel ineffable twists of fate” and “three was bad enough.”

“Can I pet him?” asked Sheela.

“I am not a pet!” squawked Boo.

“Nice birdie…” cooed Sheela, reaching out.

Boo snapped at her fingers, then righted himself. “Despite this latest development,” he said, eyeing the twins, “I’m glad you’re here.” He puffed up his feathers. “I trust your mission went exactly as planned, which is what I told the rest of the Council—”

“Actually, um, Boo…” started Aru.

“We’re definitely in for it now.” Brynne groaned and crossed her arms. “But it’s not our fault!”

“Well, I don’t know about that,” hedged Mini. “But we really did try.”

“In for what? Whose fault?” asked Boo, alarmed. “You did get the prophecy, didn’t you?”

Aru winced. “Yes, but—”

A thundering voice crackled through the heavens like the loudspeakers at school:

“ATTENTION, ATTENTION. URGENT INSTRUCTION FOR THE PANDAVAS: REPORT TO THE GATE OF AMARAVATI IMMEDIATELY.”

“Amaravati?” echoed Aiden, looking stricken.

“Who’s that?” asked Nikita.

“It’s not a person,” said Mini, her face paling. “It’s a city.”

Vajra buzzed excitedly against Aru’s wrist. No doubt the lightning bolt missed its home. The famous heavenly city was the court of the apsaras and, of course, Indra, the god of thunder and lightning and Aru’s soul dad.

But none of the Pandavas’ soul fathers were allowed to interfere in their lives, so what did it mean that they were being called to Indra’s court? There were only two things that would draw the attention of the heavens—either something truly wonderful, or something downright awful.

And Aru had a sinking feeling she knew which it was.