I’m lying on the muddy bank, my chest heaving, my mind dazed. Above me, silver raindrops cling to the branches.

Mystic lovingly licks the river from my face. I see dark patches where the jinn’s fire burnt him. But he seems okay.

‘Thank you, Mystic,’ I say, gently touching his face. Then I smile. ‘You know what? I’m alive and it’s my birthday. Do you hear that, Mystic? I am alive . . .’

He cocks his head, trying to understand me, and I have to laugh.

Resting his head on my chest, he gives a little sigh. His body warms mine, and for the first time in a very long time, the woods look sparkling and new. They are my woods once more and I hear them singing a new song.

Raffi has his arm around Kalila. As he strokes her wet fur, he speaks to her softly.

I lie there watching them for a long time, thinking about the story in my pocket that must be a sodden mess by now. Is the silver fox really Raffi’s little sister?

Raffi looks over to me. ‘Thank you, Ziggy Truegood, for saving Kalila’s life.’

I smile.

‘To escape the jinn, Kalila had to change into her animal spirit. It was the only way she could survive,’ he says.

‘Will she change back now?’ I ask.

He looks sadly down at her. ‘If she feels safe, she will try,’ he says.

‘Is the jinn truly dead?’ I look at the spot where I saw the jinn sink into the river, and I shiver.

‘Jinns do not like daggers made with iron blades. I am hoping he will not be able to rise again,’ Raffi says.

I unzip my pocket and feel around for the paper. Sure enough, it’s a mass of pulp. I’m disappointed, but now I know how the story ends I don’t need to read it. As we sit there on the bank, I tell Raffi about it.

‘But what I don’t understand is how the story can talk about us when it’s been locked away for years?’

Raffi pushes his hair out of his eyes. ‘It is just that time moves differently in different realms,’ he says. He places one hand over the other, moving one slowly and one quickly. ‘In the realm you are living in, that story was written long ago. But when we met, things shifted. In this realm,’ he gestures around us, ‘that story is happening right now.’

What Raffi is saying doesn’t make any sense.

‘This realm, where we are now, is the space between. It’s where magic happens, where stories live, and the choices you make ripple outwards to affect everyone,’ he says.

‘So the story hasn’t finished? What happens in the end?’ I say, suddenly worried.

‘Nobody can tell you that. There are choices still to be made. And each choice leads to two or three other choices. Jaddi told me all this. He said that our choices branch out from right here . . .’ Raffi points to where we are sitting ‘. . . and so, just like this, we make our story.’

I think about this for a moment, trying to make sense of it all.

‘So is it like me going into the woods and there are all these trails and I choose one, and then a little later there’s a fork and I choose another path which takes me in another direction, and so on?’

Raffi nods. ‘Everything behind you has already been fixed. You have made your story up to that point. But the rest of the story depends on the choices you make from now.’

‘Then from now on I am only going to make good and true choices,’ I say.

‘I said the same thing to Jaddi once.’ His smile is rueful.

‘And?’

‘He said learning to make good and true choices is the whole reason we were given life in the first place. How can you tell the difference?’

I think about this while I look at Kalila, her head on Raffi’s lap, her soft silvery chest moving up and down. I think about the choice her brother made when he accepted the emerald from the dragonfly and what that has led to. ‘If you hadn’t made that bad choice, we might never have met.’

‘Sometimes what seems like a bad decision at the time can be good,’ he says with a sigh.

I smile. ‘No, Raffi, I think that was a bad choice. You are just lucky that I was here.’

He laughs out loud. It’s the first time he’s laughed with me and I’m filled with warmth. ‘Yes, that is true. I think we are all given a lot of luck while we are learning how to make good choices.’

Mystic growls and the jade bottle at the bottom of my pocket begins to grow warm. A sick feeling rises in my chest.

‘Something’s wrong,’ I say, trying to scramble to my feet. I’m weak and fall back.

Raffi looks around, holding Kalila close. Then he whispers, ‘It’s the jinn.’

I think my eyes are tricking me because Kalila’s body is changing. It is flowing, losing its shape, not like water, and yet not like a cloud either.

‘She’s transforming back into a girl!’ Raffi says. ‘We have to protect her. If he catches Kalila while she’s changing back into her human form, she will be lost forever.’

‘What can I do, Raffi? Tell me what to do!’ I say, frantically.

‘Show me the bottle!’

I hold the bottle out. Raffi pulls his hand from his pocket. In it, a brilliant emerald catches the dawn sun and gleams brightly. Under the emerald is a base of white jade.

Raffi draws close to me and takes off the cork stopper, then he gently lowers the emerald top into the bottle’s opening. The fit is perfect.

‘I think this is the bottle that your grandfather tried to use to trap the jinn,’ Raffi whispers, his voice warm in my ear. ‘If we can trick him into going in …’ He mimes closing the gap.

‘But how?’ I ask.

At that moment Kalila rises into the air, a mist of silver. A blast of wind knocks us off our feet. Then a black cloud rushes between us, leaving a stench of charred flesh. The jinn chases her up into the trees, then down along the ground. They twist and lunge, black cloud and silver mist, spinning and twisting among the tree trunks and branches.

Raffi runs after them, then stops, fists clenched, as his sister flees her foe.

Mystic barks, and as the black cloud swoops too close, he pounces, trying to clamp his jaws on the jinn. The jinn breaks off its chase and swirls around him, blocking Mystic from sight.

‘Mystic!’ I scream, and throw myself towards him. The black cloud has gone, leaving Mystic twitching and whimpering on the ground. I hold him, my heart bursting with anger. The bottle in my hand begins to pulsate like a beating heart. I feel the white antelope inside of me rise onto its four legs, its head down, antlers raised. I know suddenly what to do.

‘Come and fight me, coward!’ I cry as I hold the bottle up in the air.

The silver mist swoops high, then dives into the bottle.