I shook him, calling his name. The poor thing just flopped in my hands. I tried looking for a pulse (did birds have pulses?) but couldn’t find one. My own heart fluttered alarmingly in panic. Where was a phone to dial 911 when I needed it! I started to do CPR, pumping his little yellow chest with two fingers. Problem was, the only CPR I’d ever learned was from a hospital TV show.
“He might be gone, Kiran,” Neel murmured. He touched the bird’s feathery head. “Returned to the universal stream of souls.”
“I won’t let him die! He saved our lives!” I wailed, but then I noticed Tuni’s chest was moving—although very slightly—on its own. I didn’t know what else to do except to cradle him in my lap, stroking his feathery head. His breathing was uneven, now rapid, now stopped entirely. He made a strange choking sound, and then the movement in his chest slowed down even further.
“Kiran,” Neel said, but I ignored him, rocking and cooing to the bird in my arms.
Within a few seconds, I realized that Tuntuni’s breathing had stopped altogether.
No, no, no.
“Kiran,” Neel said again. This time he put a gentle hand on my shoulder.
“He can’t die!” I cried. “He can’t!”
Everything crashed in on me. Being away from home. Inviting Neel’s mom into the kingdom. Fighting that awful snake in the dark. Coming face-to-face with my über-awful birth brothers and father. The ticking clock on my real parents’ lives. My chest burned until I thought I would explode. And then it happened.
I started to cry. Not just cry, but sob, complete with pathetic bleating noises. My eyes stung, my throat caught. And that doorway in my chest that I’d kept tightly shut for so long burst open, releasing everything that I’d stuffed inside. Salty tears poured down my face, mingling with the lake water on the bird’s body.
But Neel didn’t laugh or point or even say useless platitudes about how the bird had lived a full life. How everything would be okay. He just sat there in my presence, letting me be sad. He just was.
And then the most remarkable thing happened. The stone-still bird took a shuddering breath. He stirred, and grew warm in my arms. I watched, stunned, as Tuntuni opened his eyes.
“What should you buy a bird?” he chirped weakly.
“He’s alive!”
“Looks like it.” Neel looked at me with a curious expression. “He’s alive.”
Tuni coughed and sputtered, shaking his soaked wings dry. “Something cheep!”
I laughed in relief. If Tuni was telling bad jokes, he was going to be okay. I hugged the bird to me until he started to protest, and I put him down.
“Let’s get out of here, numskulls!” Tuni croaked weakly. “Before those snakes figure out how to come back!”
“We can’t.” I looked around wildly. “I don’t know where the horses are!”
“You still have the python jewel, right?” Neel asked.
It took me a couple moments because my fingers were still numb. Neel helped me struggle out of his sopping jacket, and finally we pulled out the python jewel from the pocket. The light from the magic stone illuminated the dark forest.
I heard the flapping of large wings. Like some kind of a beacon, the jewel had called the horses from wherever they’d been hiding. Snowy and Midnight trod their way through the banyan tree roots, neighing and tossing their manes.
“You couldn’t just have told me to take out the jewel sooner?” I said as Snowy snarfled my ear with a wet nose. “There’s fresh clothes in the saddlebags!”
“I’m sorry; I was a bit preoccupied watching you heal Tuntuni.”
“I didn’t heal him!” Where did Neel get that idea? “He just got better on his own.”
“If you say so.”
“I do.” I scuttled off, shaking with wet and cold, to go change behind a distant tree.
After I was in dry clothes, I felt almost myself again. I pulled out Ma’s map. In the light of the python jewel, we had no trouble reading it. The decoding trick was actually easy. You just had to shine the jewel at the paper, then put your eye up to the back of it, so you were viewing the map through the prisms of the python jewel’s surface. Just like that, the blank sheet was covered with the recognizable symbols on a map.
“Look, some kind of body of water—a sea—separates us from the Maya Mountains.”
I stared at the paper. The writing on it was actually moving. Where, just a second ago, had been the lake entrance to the underworld kingdom was now the drawing of a huge tree. And, if I wasn’t mistaken, there were also two little human figures and a bird next to two creatures that looked like winged horses.
Neel was unfazed. “You are here,” he said, pointing at the shorter of the two human figures. “And the sea we have to cross is”—he dragged his finger not a long distance on the map—“here.”
“And then over the sea to the Maya Mountains, easy!” I slung my quiver on my back.
“As long as the mountains don’t move again before we can get there,” Tuntuni mumbled. “Or if we don’t get eaten by sea monsters. Or catch our deaths of pneumonia …”
“Your secret’s out, Tuni.” I picked up the bird and put him on my shoulder. “You’re not as much of a grump as you pretend to be.”
“Oh, yes, I am!” squawked the bird. But he puffed out his feathers in pleasure.
Neel rolled his eyes at the both of us as he tugged on Midnight’s reigns. “Come on, boy, let’s go!”
We were on our way to the Ruby Red Sea, when something else Neel said in the Serpent King’s throne room came back to me. We rode side by side, but I still had to shout a little to make myself heard over the wind.
“Hey, Neel, what was that other thing you said about my … I mean, the Serpent King? You said he was my dark matter? Is that the same thing as dark energy?”
“Nah, dark matter’s a whole other mysterious force.” Neel clicked his tongue at Midnight, who kept straining at the bit, trying to gallop faster. “In your dimension, dark matter’s the invisible presence that surrounds galaxies. Your scientists can’t see it, except sometimes like a halo around star systems.”
“And that relates to the Serpent King how?”
“Dark matter has this incredible gravitational pull,” Neel explained. “It wants to incorporate everything into itself. Think about how badly the Serpent King wanted to draw everything into himself. Your brother-snakes. You.”
“There is no light without the darkness,” Tuntuni chirped from my shoulder. “No darkness without the light.”
It was the same thing the merchant of shadows had said to Neel. She’d also said that Neel had to face his shadow self but not get pulled into the darkness. I guessed the same was true for me. My biological parents had been invisible my whole life—but hovering around me like a dark halo even as Ma and Baba filled my life with light. And now that dark pull had brought me back to this place, threatening to extinguish my parents’ light forever.
I couldn’t ask anything else because we had already gotten to the edge of the sea. As we landed and dismounted the horses, I noticed there was a long line of colorful barges on the shore of the lapping water, carved and painted to look like peacocks. Neel pulled the barge closest to us in more securely onto the land.
“Can’t the horses just fly us over?”
Neel shook his head, pointing to a sign that read:
PFDBMHNFZ