Wake Up

Aru woke up on the floor. The lights flickered. Something about the room smelled off, like it was rusting. She heaved herself up on her elbows, eyes seeking the lamp. But it was gone. There was no sign that it had even been there except for the glass shards on the floor. Aru craned her neck to look behind her….

All the statues were facing her.

Ice trickled down her spine.

“Poppy?” she called, pushing herself to a stand. “Arielle? Burton?”

That’s when she saw them.

All three were still huddled together. They looked like a movie that had been paused in the middle of a fight scene. Poppy’s hand was on Burton’s chest. He was on his heels, tipping backward, about to fall. Arielle’s eyes were screwed shut, her mouth open in a silent scream. They were suspended in time. Aru reached out and touched them. Their skin was warm. A pulse leaped at each of their throats. But they didn’t move. Couldn’t move.

What had happened?

Her gaze snagged on the red light in Burton’s pocket. The phone. Maybe she could rewind the recording. But the phone wouldn’t budge from his pocket. Everything was frozen. Except her.

This was a dream. It had to be. She pinched herself.

“Ow!” she said, wincing.

She was definitely awake. In a way, so were her classmates. But then, how was everything so…still? A creaking sound echoed outside the Hall of the Gods. She stood up straighter. It sounded a lot like a door.

“Mom?” she whispered, running out. Her mother must have heard the noise and come downstairs. She’d know what to do.

At the entrance to the Hall of the Gods, Aru saw three things that made no sense:

Aru watched, stuck somewhere between awe and horror, as the stone elephant that had been standing in the museum for decades suddenly sank to the ground. It lifted its trunk—the same trunk Aru had been using as a backpack hook for years—to its forehead. In one swift, creaking movement, its jaw unhinged.

Panicked, Aru ran toward her mom. She reached for her hand, trying to yank her out of the air. “Mom! The elephant is possessed. You really need to wake up!”

Her mom didn’t move. Aru followed her gaze. She’d been staring straight at the Hall of the Gods the moment she was frozen.

“Mom?”

A voice boomed from the hollow of the elephant. Deep and rough and wizened. Aru shrank.

“WHO HAS DARED TO LIGHT THE LAMP?” called the voice. It was as dark as a thunderstorm. Aru thought bolts of lightning might shoot out of the elephant’s mouth, which, under any other circumstance, would have been very exciting. “WHO HAS DARED TO WAKE THE SLEEPER FROM HIS SLUMBER?”

Aru shuddered. “I—I did…but I didn’t mean to!”

“YOU LIE, WARRIOR! AND FOR THAT I AM SUMMONED.”

The sound of flapping wings echoed from the elephant’s open mouth. Aru gulped.

This was the end, Aru was sure of it. Did birds eat people? It probably depended on the size of the bird. Or the size of the person. Not wanting to test the idea, she tried burying her face in her mother’s side, but she couldn’t fit under her stiff arm. The sounds from the elephant rose steadily. A shadow lengthened on the ground. Huge and winged.

Whatever had been speaking flew out of the elephant’s mouth.

It was…

A pigeon.

“Ew!” Aru exclaimed.

Her mother had often reminded her that pigeons were “rats with wings.”

“Where is he?” demanded the pigeon. “One of the ancient five warriors lit the Lamp of Bharata—”

Aru tilted her head, a question flying out of her before she could stop herself. “Why does your voice sound different?”

From inside the elephant, the bird had sounded like it could convince a mountain to turn into a volcano. Now it sounded like her math teacher that one time he had tried to perform a cappella but had stepped on a Lego piece. For the rest of the day he’d spoken in an anxious, sulky voice.

The pigeon puffed out its chest. “Is there something wrong with how I sound, human girl?”

“No, but—”

“Do I not look like a bird capable of great devastation?”

“I mean—”

“Because I shall have you know that whole cities revile me. They say my name like a curse.”

“Is that a good thing?”

“It’s a powerful thing,” sniffed the bird. “And between good and power, I will always choose the latter.”

“Is that why you’re a pigeon?”

Could a bird narrow its eyes? If not, this one had certainly mastered the illusion.

“The lamp was lit. The Sleeper will start to awaken. It is my sacred duty to guide the Pandava brother who lit it.”

“Pandava?” Aru repeated.

She knew that name. It was the last name of the five brothers in the Mahabharata poem. Her mother had said that each of them held great powers and could wield fantastic weapons because they were the sons of gods. Heroes. But what did that have to do with the lamp? Had she hit her head without noticing? She felt around her scalp for a bump.

“Yes. Pandava,” sneered the pigeon. It puffed out its chest. “Only one of the five Pandava brothers could light the lamp. Do you know where he went, human girl?”

Aru lifted her chin. “I lit the lamp.”

The bird stared. And then stared some more.

“Well, then, we might as well let the world end.”