Sixteen-year-old Sora grew up on stories about the Masuta. Warriors who guarded the realms, hidden so long the world stopped believing in them. Then she lost everything, and the stories turned out to be the only thing she had left.
The weapon her mother left behind is bound to her. Resonant to her emotions. Anger sets it burning. Grief makes it stutter and dim. So the harder things get, the more dangerous it becomes in her hands. Before it can protect anyone, Sora has to get a grip on what it pulls out of her, or it will do as much harm as the enemy she is running from.
She crosses four realms looking for the last of the Masuta, hoping to learn their lessons. How to keep your feet when everything drops out from under you. How to fight someone without turning into them. How to carry a weight that should have flattened you, but you bravely take another step anyway.
She has to, because someone is tightening his hold on the realms. To stop him and set her world right, Sora has to master the weapon and, harder still, master herself.
Written entirely in verse, each chapter closing on a haiku, Sora and the Masutas is a coming of age fantasy shaped by the five stages of grief. It is about power and what it costs. About anger, and the slow work of acceptance.