ohail took them to a sloping amphitheater set in a low valley. The meeting place looked as if it had been cobbled together from the ruins of old temples. Each chakora bird lorded over its own boulder, and each stone anchored a slanting moonbeam. Aru had never known that a shaft of moonlight could be a tangible thing, but the chakora birds roosted on them as if they were heavy branches. At the center of the space stood a thick pillar of moonlight that stretched in an unbroken line toward the sky and disappeared in the clouds. There was a red button on the rock beside it, and Aru wondered if perhaps this was the elevator Sohail had mentioned.

Sohail alighted on a moonbeam not far from the three largest boulders, where a trio of chakora birds perched on their glowing moon boughs. They looked older than Sohail—their cheek feathers drooped, and there was something faded and ragged about their tail feathers. Sohail chattered to them in the language of birds, and then the elder chakoras turned to face the Potatoes, regarding them haughtily.

“Why have you brought these creatures to us, Sohail?” demanded the bird sitting on the highest moonbeam. “You know mortals have no business in these parts. What could they possibly want?”

Sohail bowed, then looked mournfully at Vajra. “I have come at the behest of my beloved, who requires that we translate a piece of preserved moonlight for them. Therefore, I vouch for the mortals’ presence and hope you might grant them an audience.”

“Lovestruck again?” spat another bird. “What is it this time? A lantern?”

“A flashlight left behind in a campsite?” teased another.

“A car’s headlights?”

The rest of the birds laughed, and Sohail hung his head in shame. “A car, ’tis a fearsome thing. And it is true, I have been lured by false lights before. But what I feel now…it is like realizing my whole life has been lived in shadow.”

Brynne rolled her eyes and muttered, “What do you think this bird would do if it saw a glow stick?”

Aru stifled a giggle, then glanced over at Mini, Rudy, and Aiden. They weren’t laughing. Mini’s eyes were shining. Aiden looked stony-faced, but there was something wistful in his gaze. Rudy’s lip trembled…and he started slow-clapping in genuine appreciation.

“Yes, all right, fine,” grumbled the highest bird. “So you wish us to translate something for the reprehensible mortals. Where is this fair love of yours? Is it being held captive by the odious children?”

“Hey!” said Brynne.

“No!” said Aru vehemently. She raised her arm, where Vajra sparkled. “It is a fearsome weapon.”

The birds took one look at Vajra in bracelet form and burst out in raucous hoots and caws.

“Oh, Sohail has really fallen this time!” said one, choking with laughter. “What do you think he’ll do when the battery runs out?”

Sohail could not blush, but Aru noticed that the delicate feathers around his cheeks fluffed out in shame.

“Perhaps I see what you do not,” he said quietly.

A prickle of energy wound through Vajra. Without even a command from Aru, the lightning bolt shot up to its true, staggering size of at least six feet. Even Aru had never seen Vajra so big. Usually, her lightning bolt preferred to be compact, subtle.

Now Vajra looked like all the crackling heavens wrought into a single zigzagging shape.

The laughter quickly died. The silence was only broken by the sudden click! of Aiden’s camera.

Sohail looked proudly at the rest of the birds. “There shines my beloved.”

Vajra sparked one last time and elegantly folded itself back into a bracelet on Aru’s wrist, reminding her of a queen who has deigned to sit at a table with commoners.

“Ahem,” said the highest bird. “Well. I, uh…As you can see…Well—”

The second-highest bird piped up: “We don’t work for free! Man or monster or god, we don’t care. We demand fair compensation in the form of secrets.”

“What do you need secrets for?” asked Aiden.

“They draw the moonlight closer,” said Sohail. “And we can bask in the light.”

“We don’t have any secrets,” said Aiden quickly. Too quickly.

Aru winced. It was like he had thrown chum toward sharks.

The second-highest chakora bird flew toward them. “No secrets, eh?” it said, leering. “Well, why don’t we just see about that?”

At least a hundred chakora birds rose into the sky.

“Oh, is that quite necessary?” asked Sohail gently. “Is it not best to coax out the secrets of those around us through mutual trust and respect?”

The flock ignored him. They beat their wings and a glittering dust fell upon Aru and her friends.

“What is this?” demanded Brynne.

Mini pinched her nose. “What if I’m allergic?”

Rudy furiously tried to brush the stuff off him.

“Is this…Is this moon-bird dandruff?” asked Aru. “Because that”—shake—“is”—shake—“unacceptable!”

Aiden stared at his sleeves with growing horror. “It forces out secrets,” he said, his voice tinged with fear. “Keep your mouths closed—”

“Perhaps we might start with what currency you have available,” said the head chakora bird, staring directly at him.

Aiden clamped his hands over his lips, then lurched forward as if someone had lassoed him with a rope and tugged—

“I always volunteer to be the official photographer at school dances because I don’t want anyone to find out that I’m a good dancer,” he said in a rush, his eyes wide. “And for six months, I practiced the poker-chip trick that Le Chiffre did in Casino Royale. But I don’t know how to play poker, so I don’t know when I’m ever going to use the trick.”

About two feet away, a small pile of silver dust gathered on the floor—the equivalent weight of Aiden’s secrets. He slumped to the ground, clutching his stomach, mortification written all over him.

Rudy was next. He backed away, but the birds’ magic worked on him all the same:

“I’VE NEVER KISSED A GIRL. ONCE I PRACTICED ON A GEM, BUT I CHOKED ON IT!” he yelled.

Aru plugged her ears with her fingers. “Do you have to shout?!”

Rudy sank onto the rubble, blushing deeply.

Brynne looked wild-eyed. “Oh wait, no, no-no-no—”

“Ah, but we demand a secret for our work,” said the bird. “And all must pay!”

Brynne went blue in the face trying to hold herself back, but she too lost the battle. Aru thought she was going to yell, but her secret came out in a whisper. “I stole from Anila so she’d have to visit me again just to get her stuff back.”

Aru felt a burst of sympathy for her sister. Aiden grabbed Brynne’s hand and held it tight.

Mini turned bright red and blurted out, “When I didn’t think anyone was watching, I practiced using my dad’s stethoscope on my teddy bear. My brother saw it and laughed, so I put him in a force field bubble and recorded him running in it like a hamster.”

She sniffed loudly, tears glossing her eyes while everyone else broke into laughter. Even Brynne cracked a smile.

“How is that a secret?” said Brynne. “You should’ve told us ages ago!”

“It was so mean,” said Mini pitifully. “The guilt still makes my stomach ache.”

“Does it feel like a hamster is running around inside it?” asked Aru.

Mini glared at her.

The birds turned their beady eyes on Aru. Panic swept through her. After using the living key and having her whole soul unlocked, there was far too much of her that could be exposed. The others had funny stories or understandable pain. Normal secrets. Not her. What would they think if she ended up saying her deepest, darkest secret—that she didn’t know if she was fighting for the right side?

Not that the Sleeper was “right” by any stretch of the imagination…but the devas weren’t, either.

If she uttered something like that, her friends wouldn’t trust her anymore.

Or what if she said something horrifically mortifying? Like how she sometimes practiced make-believe conversations with Aiden?! Aru would rather set herself on fire.

Her mother’s necklace pulsed around her neck. And she remembered the three hollows in it, each one the perfect size to hold the bead containing a piece of the Sleeper.

A secret. That was all that the birds wanted. A secret. Not necessarily hers.

“Now your turn…” she heard the head bird start to say.

Aru looked at Rudy. “Give me the jewel you took from the eagle’s beak.”

“What?” he asked.

“Now,” said Aru.

She must’ve said it with enough force, because the snake boy rummaged through his messenger bag right away and pulled out the tiny blue stone. As soon as he handed it to Aru, she tossed it in front of the chakora elders. The moment the jewel hit the ground, the Sleeper’s secret blasted across the grove.

As the visions played, Aru kept her face turned away and tried to shut out the sound of his voice. It was too painful to see how he’d once been. She felt a flash of anger whenever she thought about his memories. Maybe he would’ve been a great dad. But that whole future had been stolen from her…all because of a stupid prophecy. Who was to blame for how things worked out? Him, for failing to prevent it? Her mom? Herself, just for being born?

She watched a pile of sparkling silver grow until the Sleeper’s story ended. It had to be enough payment, thought Aru. The blue jewel floated back to her, and she popped it into one of the depressions in the pendant.

“Sneaky,” said Aiden.

“You know me,” said Aru.

But her voice sounded flat in her ears.

“Surely we’ve paid for the translation by now,” said Mini.

“I have no idea who Shirley is,” sniffed one of the elder birds, “but I assure you I am not her.”

“And yes,” said another bird slowly. “Your secret was sufficient.”

“Then tell us the clue,” said Aru.

But the birds didn’t look done with them just yet. There was a greedy sheen in the beady black eyes of the highest chakora. Its feathers fanned out, and it hopped down from its moonbeam.

“I find it very curious,” said the bird, walking a circle around Aru, “that you are the secret another mortal used before.”

“What are you talking about?” asked Aru.

“I think you know well, Arundhati.”