Once they were safely out of the creature’s mouth, they followed the stone path that wound around the cave that wasn’t a cave at all but a gigantic whale thing.

When Aru looked up, the top of the creature was concealed by clouds. Strange protrusions that Aru had thought were just rocks now looked a lot more like fins covered in sharp barnacles. Streams of water ran down the sides, like someone was continually pouring liquid over the monster.

“It’s a timingala, by the way,” said Mini, following her gaze. “At least, I think it is.”

“Never heard of those.”

“They’re basically giant whale sharks out of the stories.”

“I thought whale sharks were supposed to be friendly. And not have teeth!” said Aru. “That was the rudest one ever. It basically tried to kill us with halitosis.”

“It was just doing its job! Besides, it was a celestial guard whale shark,” Mini pointed out. “And it had all those weapons stuck in its mouth, poor thing. Imagine if you had to spend the rest of your life with sharp popcorn stuck in your teeth. Just thinking about it makes me want to floss more than twice a day.”

“You floss twice a day?”

“Of course,” said Mini. “Don’t you?”

“Um.”

“Aru…Do you even floss?”

Aru considered herself extremely lucky if she remembered to brush her teeth at night, much less floss. Sometimes, when she was running late for school, she’d just eat toothpaste. In fact, she wasn’t even sure they had floss in the house.

“Of course I do.” When I’ve got something stuck in my teeth.

Mini was skeptical. “If you don’t floss, that can lead to tooth decay. And if that happens, the tooth decay can spread into your sinuses, and then get behind your eyes, and then enter your brain, and then—”

“Mini, if you say You die, I will actually die just because you keep saying it.”

“You’re my sister. It’s my familial duty to make sure that you survive.”

Aru tried not to smile. You’re my sister. She wasn’t sure she’d ever get tired of hearing that.

“I’m doing fine so far. And I’ve got all my teeth. Death: zero. Aru: um, at least four.”

Mini just shook her head and kept walking. Everyone knew that the only way out of the Kingdom of Death was to enter a new life. Which meant that the only exit lay through the Pool of Reincarnation. But they didn’t have to be reincarnated, or so Chitrigupta had said. So that meant there must be another way out of the Kingdom of Death. At least, she hoped so.

Aru wanted nothing more than to get out of the Kingdom of Death. First of all, it stank. Second of all, she was starving. Third of all, she wouldn’t even be able to brag about going there. Final destination was not as impressive as a destination vacation. It was just flat-out terrifying.

But she had to admit that part of her was excited to see the Pool of Reincarnation.

How did the Kingdom of Death decide what people got to be next? Was there some kind of checklist? You met the minimum number of good deeds, so you get to avoid premature balding in your next life. Or Enjoy being a cockroach! On the upside, at least you’ll survive a nuclear disaster.

Yet that would have to wait.

Because there was another pool they had to visit first: the Pool of the Past. This was the only place where they could finally learn how to defeat the Sleeper.

Aru and Mini walked around the bend, only to end up in a hall of windows.

Thousands upon thousands of windows looked out onto worlds that Aru had never considered real. Lands where there were palaces of snow and palaces of sand. Places where sea creatures with rows of eyes blinked back at them from the other side of the glass. It made sense that every place should have a connection to death. Death had some claim everywhere. Death was in the wind coaxing a flower to blossom. Death hid in the wing of the bird folding itself to sleep. Death was in every breath she inhaled.

Aru had never given much thought to death before now. No one she knew had died. She’d never had to mourn anyone.

She assumed she’d be full of sadness on the day that happened. But walking through the Kingdom of Death, she felt a drowsy sort of peacefulness, like balancing on the border of sleeping and waking.

In the distance, Aru heard the sound of machinery. Wheels gnashed and ground. Around them, the atmosphere had changed. The walls had that iridescent quality of polished oyster shells. Stalactites made of paper spiraled down from the ceiling.

“These must be Chitrigupta’s archives,” said Mini. She reached for one of the papers and read aloud: “‘On May seventeenth, Ronald Taylor jumped into the Arctic Ocean yelling “Sea unicorn!” and he startled a narwhal. He did not apologize.’”

“So…these are just accounts of what people do every day?”

The papers spun slowly.

“I guess so?” said Mini. “I think we might be getting closer to the pools. He’d only keep all of his records here if they needed to consult them when they remake people’s bodies and all that.”

“I wonder what happens if you scare a narwhal. Maybe karma gives you a gigantic zit in the middle of your forehead and you get called an ugly unicorn for a month.”

Mini’s eyes widened. “Wait, I have a zit on the side of my nose—does that mean I did something to deserve it?”