ru blinked.

Gone was the world tree. Gone was, well, everything. She was standing in a chamber filled with golden light. The ceiling above her looked like interwoven branches made of sunlight. And before her stood a woman.

Make that a goddess.

“So, you located Kalpavriksha,” said the woman, smiling. “I must admit, even I am impressed.”

Aru stared at her. The goddess wore a simple linen shirt and dark jeans. Her black hair was pulled into a high bun. Her skin was the color of rich earth, and her eyes looked like hardened sap beneath thick eyebrows. She had a hooked nose and a mouth that seemed made for smiling. She was beautiful, but in an unexpected way. Like raindrops on a spider’s web—invisible unless you take the time to notice them.

“You…You’re…”

“Aranyani,” said the goddess, inclining her chin ever so slightly.

The elusive goddess of the forest, and guardian of Kalpavriksha.

“Not quite what you were expecting?” she guessed.

“I, um…” stammered Aru.

Yes seemed like the exact wrong thing to say.

“I see,” said Aranyani, still smiling. “And you’ve come all this way to find Kalpavriksha because…?”

“Because of the war coming to the Otherworld,” said Aru.

But as she spoke, the words didn’t sit right on her tongue.

“Because of the war,” repeated Aranyani. “Because wars are so often won on wishes?”

“But the prophecy—” started Aru.

“Ah, yes. Let me see if I can recall it….One treasure is false, and one treasure is lost, but the tree at the heart is the only true cost. No war can be won without finding that root; no victory had without the yield of its fruit. In five days the treasure will bloom and fade, and all that was won could soon be unmade.”

“Yeah,” said Aru weakly. “That one.”

“And where does it mention wishing?” Aranyani asked.

Aru was stunned into silence. In her mind, she ran through all the reasons she had been sure Kalpavriksha was at the heart of the prophecy: the fake tree in the heavens; Opal’s nasty words; the growing threat in the heavenly and mortal realms, even the fact that her own father had been after the treasure.

Aru swallowed hard. “But it has to be Kalpavriksha, because we found the fake one—”

“Let me ask you again, daughter of the god of thunder,” said Aranyani. “Where does it mention wishes?”

“It…It doesn’t…. But it was the only thing that made sense!” said Aru, panic rising in her. “We need to win the war! And it mentions the ‘tree at the heart.’ I thought…I thought we needed it to win. Like…the victors would be the ones who made a wish?”

Aranyani’s face softened. “Oh, child. You know so much and yet so little. I pity you for that.”

Aru’s heart sank. Her family was outside this place, waiting for her to complete the mission. Nikita might have sacrificed herself just to get Aru to this moment, and all the goddess had to offer was pity? Vajra flickered angrily.

“You have come here to make a wish, and you may do so,” said Aranyani.

A spark of hope ignited in Aru.

“This is the last place all who seek Kalpavriksha must enter,” the goddess continued. “It is called the Grove of Regret.” Aranyani gestured at the space around them.

Only then did Aru notice the same kind of soft whispers that had run down the boulder. The repeating chant of I should have, I should have, I should have.

“Should you choose to make a wish, know that regret will follow it,” said Aranyani. “See for yourself, daughter of the gods.”

Aranyani swept her right hand across the air. A strong wind blew against Aru, causing her to shut her eyes and hold her necklace in place. The touch made Suyodhana’s memories flash through Aru’s head like a biopic—how he’d grown up alone and without a family, how his brilliance had won over his teachers, how he had named her to be a light in the darkness.

Aru opened her eyes and saw that she’d been plunged into another vision. She looked around, familiarity jolting her. It was home—her home in the Museum of Ancient Indian Art and Culture.

Her mother, young and beautiful, stood at the bottom of the staircase. She wore a long black dress and her hair was done up fancily, as if she’d just come back from a date. A man stood before her, his hands behind his back. It was odd to see Suyodhana so nervous when he was usually so confident.

“I told you I don’t want flowers,” said Krithika Shah with a coy smile.

Aru knew that well enough. Every Valentine’s Day, whenever someone sent her mother flowers, they always ended up in the trash bin.

“I remember,” Suyodhana said.

He pulled a bouquet from behind his back. It was definitely not your average arrangement. It was a metal sculpture of a dozen roses made out of gears and clockworks.

“You asked me to give you something that I want but can’t have,” he said.

Krithika blushed. “I was only joking—”

“The only thing I want is more time with you,” he said.

The vision jumped ahead, and this time Suyodhana was older, dressed in the dusty travel clothes he’d worn when he went to Mr. V for the impossible key, when he sacrificed the memories of his upbringing, and when he crossed the chakora birds and gave away the secret of Aru’s name. There were lines around his eyes that hadn’t been there before, and his face looked like it had never known a smile. He stood in the same place Aru was now, in a room of golden light before the goddess of the forest.

“If you choose this path,” Aranyani warned him, “you will miss the birth of your child. You will give up the memory of ever loving your wife. Is that what this wish is worth to you, Suyodhana?”

His shoulders sagged.

“I’ve given you almost everything,” he said. “But what you ask for now…it is too steep a price.”

Aranyani bowed her head. “Then what will you do?”

Suyodhana swallowed hard, raising his head for the first time.

“I will not be defeated,” he said hoarsely. “I will find a way to avoid this destiny. Krithika will help me, and together, we’ll stop this. But I’m not…I refuse to give up my family.”

“Then go home,” said Aranyani sadly. “Go to them.”

Aru wanted the visions to stop. She didn’t want to know any more. She certainly didn’t want to see it.

But there was more.

In the next vision, Hanuman and Urvashi were sitting beside a very pregnant Krithika.

“I believe in him,” said Krithika firmly.

“What you’re doing is reckless…. The Council has been calling you selfish, Krithika,” said Hanuman. “You know the danger he poses, what he is destined to do! He’s fated to destroy this age.”

“Prophecies are uncertain things,” she shot back.

“Maybe so,” said Urvashi. “But what are you willing to risk in order to find out if you’re correct?” At this, the apsara’s gaze deliberately dropped to Krithika’s swollen belly.

Krithika’s hand moved to her torso, and she glared at them.

Urvashi sighed, and she reached out to hold Krithika’s hands. “I know more than most what we must sacrifice for the ones we love…but think of the greater good. And where has he been while you’ve had to tend to yourself and your child all alone? He’s been gone for months….”

“But he went to protect us—” said Krithika.

For the first time, her voice wavered with uncertainty.

“And if he fails?” asked Hanuman. “What then?”

The vision shifted once more. Aru wanted to fall to the ground, cover her head, and make everything stop. But Aranyani wasn’t done with her yet. Aru didn’t know how much more she could take. Already, something deep inside her felt pulled tight to the point of snapping.

Images swam before her—more recent this time—showing a dark alley in the human world. Boo fluttered to a lamppost, squawking anxiously. From the gloomy depths of the passage, shadows poured forth, coalescing into the murky shape of the Sleeper.

“I hear you have a proposition for me, old friend.”

“I am not your friend!” said Boo angrily.

“Details…details.” The Sleeper laughed. “I know how long you’ve been seeking a release from your curse. And now that you’ve learned the Kalpavriksha in the Nandana Gardens is a lie, you seem to be out of options. So speak. And do not waste my time.”

Boo’s feathers fluffed around him. He closed his eyes. “The Pandava twins are being moved to the House of the Moon for safekeeping,” he said. “I will…I will loosen one of the carriage doors so you may take the one who can lead you to Kalpavriksha. If you don’t wish to be followed, you must remove her celestial tracking device. But you must swear on whatever remains of your soul that you will not hurt her.”

The shadows twitched. “And in return?”

“In return,” said Boo, lifting his head, “you will share the Tree of Wishes with me should you find it.”

The shadows paused. Deep within the folds of gloom, the Sleeper laughed. “Do you have such little faith in your charges, Subala?”

Boo puffed out in indignation. “They are young, but full of potential. Still…I do not know that they can succeed. And I would not lose the chance of regaining my true form, for only then can I protect them from you.”

The visions finally came to an end.

And the part of Aru that had been stretched so taut finally broke.