Sami felt Dorsom’s presence as clearly as if he were right next to her, yet she couldn’t help saying, “Is it really you?”

For true, it’s me. I felt you return back to Silverworld—and I knew when you spilled into the void. I called and called to you, hoping your thought-mind would hear mine.

Sami nodded. “I can hear your thoughts perfectly—I can. Oh, Dorsom!” she cried, full of hope and fear all at once, and she heard her voice tremble. For a moment, she felt wisps of dread creep into her stomach. “It’s so horrible here. I can’t see or feel a thing. It’s like being trapped inside someone’s—”

Deadness.

“Yes.” She pressed a hand to her chest. “And—and also, there’s someone else—Ashrafieh is here as well—with me. She’s trapped. We have to help her.”

I know.

“You knew?” Sami looked straight overhead, where she imagined the way back would be. “Have you always known she was here?”

We suspected. Ashrafieh has been missing for some time. We didn’t know for certain until you joined her.

When Dorsom said until you joined her, Sami felt her bright core grow dim and shrink, and her ears pulsed. What sounded like a million other tiny voices seemed to rush in from all directions, all of them throbbing with the same despair, as if she were surrounded by an army of lost souls.

Sami, resist the emptiness, Dorsom instructed. Pull away from any of the murky places. Now is the time for you to free-fly.

She nodded firmly, yet couldn’t help feeling another shred of worry: But what if I can’t?

You must, you will, you shall, responded Dorsom.

Must. Sami felt the word echo around her. Will. She nodded again, breathing in each resolution. Shall.

You needs must travel back to the bright core. You have all the courage you need to take hold.

“Yes,” Sami muttered, half to herself. “Yes. That inside place—” She wrapped her hands around her elbows, and smoothed her palms up and down over her arms, calming herself. Contained. Focused. She pushed away stray thoughts or worries—these were meaningless to her now. Instead, there were the voices of the people and creatures she was fighting for, curving around her like a shining banner. She held fast to her determination and felt light begin to grow from within. As it did she seemed to feel some inkling of Ashrafieh as well. Come to me, Sami coaxed, calling to the fragile presence. I’m here, right here.

As the presence collected, Sami moved toward it, holding out her arms in the way she remembered her mother did while cradling her when Sami was very little. She tried to gather Ashrafieh and with her eyes closed and body lifted, she attempted to move them both in an upward direction, but nothing happened. Her arms moved right through her and the presence dissolved into particles. “Dorsom,” she whispered. “What do I do?”

Her loss and grief are overwhelming her, Dorsom thought-murmured. Is there some way you can become like your grandmother for a time?

Under different circumstances, Sami would’ve laughed out loud. She wasn’t some kind of expert rebalancer Flicker like he was. She and Teta were totally different! Her grandmother was a Bedouin warrior who knew about spells and fairies and led caravans across the desert and raised a daughter in Beirut and moved across the world.

And Sami, well, she was still just learning about herself.

How was she supposed to become like her grandmother?

There had to be a way. Sami trembled with effort, trying to bring every aspect of her grandmother into her mind—her long braided hair, her black eyes, her tales of the jinn and the long night marches under the brilliant moonlight.

Then an idea came to her.