Nova looks at Rishi curiously. “Is something easier to destroy if it doesn’t look human? Like, you’d kill a spider because it scares you, but you wouldn’t kill a person if it destroyed someone you loved?”
“That’s different!” Rishi shouts. The flower in her hair is drooping.
“Not all monsters look monstrous.” There’s so much sadness in his voice that I want to ask how he knows that. “Sometimes they’re perfectly normal humans. Sometimes they’re so beautiful, you would never suspect.”
He holds up a branch so Rishi and I can pass without it hitting our heads.
“We have to be prepared for any form it takes shape.”
“I’m prepared,” I say, sounding bolder than I feel. “The Devourer consumes power. What if there’s no tree to take power from?”
“Destroy the Tree of Souls?” Nova stops walking for a minute. “You’d destroy an entire realm to save your family?”
“That’s not what I said.” I keep walking without looking at him. Suddenly, I’m annoyed at Nova. My eye keeps twitching, I’m sweating, and I’m hungry. “Whose side are you on?”
“I don’t exactly like Sir Lights-a-Lot,” Rishi says, “but he’s got a point. Without the Devourer, the tree can give life back to Los Lagos. You could save more than your family. You could save the whole world! Or rather, this world.”
They don’t understand, a tiny voice says. I listen to the wind rustling through the perfectly green trees and perfectly blooming flowers. Not one of them understands this power.
I walk faster, leaving them behind.
“Alex, get back here,” Nova shouts.
“Just give her space,” Rishi tells him. Their voices are amplified in my head, like I’m hearing them over a stereo.
“We really shouldn’t separate.”
“You don’t know anything about girls, do you?”
“I know enough.”
Rishi scoffs. “She’s overwhelmed by how enormous this task is and scared because everything is trying to kill us, and hello, you don’t exactly have the best bedside manner. I know Alex better than you. Back off.”
“You know her better? Clearly not well enough that she trusted you with her secret.”
I can’t take it anymore. I pick up my pace, sweat dripping down my chest and spine. I wish I could outrun their voices, my memories, my sins. When my legs burn and Nova and Rishi are shouting for me to wait for them, I stop. I grab my knees and catch my breath.
“There’s my Olympic runner,” Rishi says, patting me on the back. “I don’t know about you guys, but all this talk about destruction has me hungry. I had a dream the other night that I was eating a tray of empanadas by myself.”
“You’d have to get in line,” Nova says.
My mouth waters at the thought of the food we had at my party—the trays of lasagna, hayacas, towers and towers of pastelitos and ham and cheese croquettes, fried sweet plantain with melted cheese, crackling pork belly over salty beans and yellow rice.
“We’re here,” Nova says.
Up ahead, the trail gives way to the Meadow del Sol. The trees form a perfect ring around the clearing. The sun and moon shine an ethereal light, so everything looks overexposed. There’s a long, wooden table at the center of the meadow.
“You know what I find weird?” Rishi asks.
“You, the girl with fake wings and purple combat boots, think something is weird?” Nova asks.
Rishi turns her long nose up at him and continues her thought. “Madra kept talking about the other tribes, but we’ve been walking for hours.”
I look at my watch. “Two and a half to be exact.”
“But we haven’t seen anyone. It’s not like when you walk around Brooklyn and you see people coming and going.”
“You’re forgetting one thing,” Nova says. “Some creatures prefer to see, not be seen.”
“Oh great, I love getting creeped on by supernatural creatures,” Rishi says.
“Maybe your voice scared them away,” Nova tells her.
“If anything’s scary around here it’s your face.” Rishi skips around Nova, ripping flowers from the ground and throwing them at him. He grumbles and slaps them away.
I shield the light from my eyes with my hand. Something shiny glints on the wooden table in the meadow. The sweet smell of freshly baked bread envelops me, and my belly growls so loudly, I’m sure a galaxy far, far away can hear. “What’s that?”
As we get closer, I see the table is carved out of a fallen tree that’s been cut in half. Toadstools and long grass rise up from the ground to create natural chairs. I can smell bread, but I don’t see it.
Rishi squeals and claps her hands together. “It’s a tea party.”
“I don’t see any tea,” Nova says.
I turn my face up to the sun and moon and welcome the sweet breeze. My nose tickles with my magic. There’s a strong power all over this meadow.
Nova pokes the toadstool with his foot, and when he determines it’ll hold his weight, he sits on it. “This reminds me of the stories of the Kingdom of Adas.”
“What are adas?” Rishi asks. Ah-dahs.
“They’re fairies,” Nova says. “But they live in a different realm. They’re pretty as hell, but I wouldn’t want to meet one. They have giant banquets and party all night. I got invited to one in Central Park, but it’s just not the same.”
“How come we don’t go to magical parties in Central Park?” Rishi asks me.
“Because if you eat fairy food, you’re stuck there,” I say. “Also, because no.”
“What, in Central Park?” Nova scoffs. “You only get stuck if you’re in the Kingdom of Adas. Only an ada can take you there.”
“Shut up,” I grumble, but then so does my stomach. “I’m so hungry.”
“Well, if you hadn’t given all our supply to the avianas, we’d be feasting on beef jerky and stale bread right now, wouldn’t we?”
Rishi mimics him as he speaks.
Then, their faces draw a blank. They jolt from their seats, slowly retreating from the table.
“Alex,” Nova says, locking his eyes—blue and green and slightly terrified—with mine.
I see them too late, but maybe they were always there. What was it that Madra said? Look twice.
I blink rapidly, and it’s like clearing a hazy film from my sight. From the trees, the shadows, the tall grass, creatures emerge all around us.
My mother told me it’s rude to stare, but they are wonderful and fearsome to look at. Real fairies from the Kingdom of Adas. Tall, slender green pixies with shimmering wings and black, almond-shaped eyes. Their fingers are long, like flower stems, ending in leaves where nails should be. Snow-white women with skin like leather and smooth, hairless heads wear crowns of thorns and pale roses. Dresses made of thousands and thousands of dry flower petals that rustle in the breeze like unearthly ghouls.
I want to keep looking at them when a voice startles me.
“What do we have here?” a smooth, silky voice, like the drizzle of honey, asks.
I turn around, but there is no one there.
“Don’t be afraid,” he says.
When I turn back around, everyone is sitting down, like I missed their movement in the blink of an eye.