Chapter One

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A long time ago...

Jain didn't care what they said to her, Ananda didn't deserve to die. It didn't matter how insignificant they thought he was. It didn't matter if the whole world was against her. She would not move.

Her mother shook her shoulder, knife in hand forgotten in the moment. She didn't realize how terrifying she was. Jain would forgive her. Her father, on the other hand, knew well his own stature and voice. She had seen him use it against the other men. He had forgotten she was only a small child and tried to use it on her. She would forgive him too, though. She knew he would never hurt her on purpose. She would use herself to shield Ananda from the world. She was not afraid; she was calm, still. She closed her eyes, tears forgotten, and cocooned herself around the tiny body.

She forgot everything.

Later, they would call this her first miracle. It did not seem so miraculous to her, but they said her father could not move her. It was as if she weighed as much as those standing stones near the water. It was as if her hands had become iron clasps that no mason could part. Her face, they told her, was serene and beautiful, like a calm lake at sunset. Her father had always said she was beautiful, though, and her mother had told her beauty was not so important anyway.

She stayed in the barn for three days.

When she finally opened her eyes, the world had changed around her. Small jade bowls—white lotus flowers blooming inside—had been placed all around her. There were candles and incense burning. An old man was sitting nearby, and she startled him when she sat up. He gave a shout and ran away. Her parents came back, tears in their eyes. She couldn't understand why. For her, no time had passed at all.

When she looked down, her heart froze inside of her. Ananda was dead. The people around her, laughing and crying, meant nothing. She had not been able to protect him.

"He was a very old rooster," her mother told her. "He lived a good long life. There is nothing to cry about."

But she thought it was unfair that anything should die—that anything should hurt or suffer.

"Life is like this," her father said, "We must all deal with hurt and suffering. There is nothing you can do to change this. Everything must end eventually."

But she refused to believe it.

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