It ends the same way it started. The big bad is dead, and we portal away to a train station in the middle of limbo before slinking into a car where we sit and stare at a manufactured sky. There aren’t as many passengers this time around. It’s quiet. Somber. Peaceful.

Luci sinks deep into my arms, her legs curled beneath her, head tucked into my shoulder like a puzzle piece. Her fingertips trace the outline of the celtic knot around her neck, lightly, carefully, as though she’s testing the edge of a knife.

The archer’s bow sits in place of her own. Ron has got the templar’s sword, though we’ll probably trade it for something more his style. I’ll try to convince him to buy a new guitar too, but for some reason, I have a feeling he’ll insist on learning the harp. He’s been clinging to it like a lifeline since we teleported.

That’s it for loot. The rest exploded.

“Liam’s going to be so sad,” Luci says.

“He’ll be happy you’re okay.”

“Am I?” She looks up at me. “What’s going to happen? The status doesn’t really explain.”

Various replies take form on my lips. “I don’t know,” I finally say. “We’ll check the Index when we get back. It might have answers.”

“I can feel it, kinda. Like, there’s something there in the corner that’s reaching for me. I already feel… strange.” Releasing the pendant, she sighs. “If I change, I don’t know if I’ll still be me.”

Through the train windows, Pharos’ indefinite dusk paints the car in a dull pink, turning Luci’s auburn hair into a golden, fiery red. I run my hands through it, then rest my chin on her head as I stare at the city spiraling below.

“So, there’s a Japanese art. Can’t remember the name. Kinsa-something. Doesn’t matter. Anyway, the idea is that when a piece of pottery breaks, like a bowl or a vase, instead of shoveling the pieces in the trash, you glue the fragments back together and paint the joints in gold. Whatever broke isn’t hidden. It’s highlighted. Celebrated. Its past left a mark, like it does on all of us. Imperfections, trauma, our fight to overcome… They make us beautiful.”

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Luci looks up at me again. “I’m not a vase.”

“No. You’re much more beautiful and a thousand times stronger.” I pause. “Or at least twenty times stronger. I don’t know the fortitude of a vase.”

“That’s not funny. You’re not going to make me laugh.”

“Hey, if I wanted to be funny, I wouldn’t have been born a woman.”

Her whole body nearly spasms as she bursts with a single involuntary laugh. “Stop! That’s horrible.”

“Okay, okay.” I tug her closer. “Look. There is no bouncing back. There is breaking. And there is changing. And you know what I like about that Japanese art the most? It takes someone who loves their pottery very much to make it into something new that is also something beautiful.”

“What I’m saying is, I am here. You are badass. Ron is Ron. And I will burn a thousand worlds to keep it that way.”

“Promise?” she asks.

“Promise.”

Fiddling with the pendant, she squints at the city as it crystalizes below us. Five floating islands appear, extending like petals from a central terraced hive.

Perhaps it’s a trick of the light again, but at a certain angle, her eyes almost appear green.

The train feels slower this time around. My eyes begin to droop when a message materializes before me.

You’re invited!

You have received an early invitation to begin your initiation under the patronage of House Endal. This invitation is extended to you and you only. Any discussion of this message or its contents will immediately result in the revocation of this and any future invitations. Congratulations!

Great. No time like the present for more corporate nonsense.

I dismiss it, then bring it up and read it again. Dammit. I can’t promise to burn worlds and then refuse to accept a degrading invite. Whatever it takes to win, right?

In fact, as we descend into Pharos, I experience something new. A feeling unlike any I’ve felt before. The relentless threat of despair remains. Grief hangs overhead like a storm-filled cloud. That derealizing hum fizzles along the edges. But a sensation, fierce and sharp, cuts through it. It’s harder than love. More violent than hope.

It feels like a beginning.

A rough beginning, maybe. But I think I can work with it.