Every night was the same. Every dream ended in the same way, even if it didn’t always follow the same path.

He dreamt of his older sister Grella and younger sister Fir. His mother Mishmi and his father Erell. Dad always sang, bellowing off-key while he cooked or cleaned or carved wood. Mom read poetry and danced and taught them all about the daily meditation it took to control their magic. Grella let him sloppily braid her hair, and she’d wear it like that for the rest of the day. Fir followed him around, clutching his sleeve as they both got used to living in a body that emanated death.

Gren Fall didn’t understand why he’d been the one to live. In his dreams, they accused him, they mauled and clawed at him. Fir, whose life he had failed to protect after their parents and older sister had been slain, haunted him the most. He didn’t want to be the one who’d survived, but he wouldn’t wish the burden on any of them either.

Still, those dreams were his only chance to embrace them. He had learned long ago the importance of telling the people he loved how precious they were while he still could. The dead could not feel, so it was his responsibility to recognize them, to take in their hurt, and honor them.

He honored them in what way he could, every night without fail.

*

Sirpo was restored, inch by draining inch. The explanations Dorothea gave were hard to accept, but the truth spread that Sacer’s military leader was to blame for their ruthless executions. On top of that, the epidemic and the war itself were all a a sick plot. Dorothea could barely believe it even now.

Her recovery was messy, passing in a blur of wrenching pain, sweat and vomit and blood that made her fear for the absolute worst, and dreams she forgot but was still haunted by somehow. Reviving everyone and restoring the buildings took eighteen years off her lifespan, and her body was punishing her for pushing so much so fast.

On the tenth night since the escape, the endless sky red-dyed in dusk’s approach as it peeked through her parted curtains, there came a soft knock at the door. After a few seconds, it creaked open the slightest bit.

“Sharkie…?” she mumbled, rolling over to blink blearily at the figure shrouded in shadow.

“It’s me,” Gren said.

The disappointment for it not to be her friend was immense, but to her surprise so was the relief. Even if Shark were here, would they acknowledge her feelings, so disparate from the convictions they had expressed?

“Come in.” Fumbling, she lit the oil lamp on the nightstand and propped herself up beside her gargantuan teddy bear. Mr. Wink had proven to be good, solid comfort. “What do you need?”

“I came to check on you.” He paused, the floor creaking as he edged in another hesitant step. “Do you feel up to talking?”

“Yes. Sorry I’m not very presentable.”

“I think we’re past caring about that.” Gren sounded faintly amused.

She chuckled. “You’re right.”

He rocked back on his heels and leaned against the door after shutting it behind him. “How do you feel?” He gestured to the injury on her arm, a doctor having sewn it closed while she’d been unconscious several days ago. That and the burn Iree had inflicted had her in constant pain, but they were slowly healing without complications.

“I can’t complain. But how are you?”

“Fine.” He paused, and she felt an intense pressure in the silence. She couldn’t read him. His presence was filled with mystery that made her hunger for the answers to questions she didn’t know how to ask. Their closeness was one of chance, words they had only said because they thought they were going to die.

But she still meant every part of it, so she said next, “You said you wanted to atone, Gren.”

He straightened. “Yes.”

“I do too. So whatever the council says in the morning…” She’d judged herself fit enough and called a meeting for the following day. “You’ll have my power with you regardless.”

He scuffed his boot along the floor. “Okay.”

His expression didn’t show much, but she thought he looked uncomfortable all the same. Without thought, she patted the bed in front of where her crossed legs rested beneath a stack of blankets. “Do you want to sit?”

A lengthy silence. “Would that make you more comfortable?”

“Yes.” His newfound awkwardness was understandable; while she saw him as an ally, not all Sirpoans agreed. In the face of being around many relatives of victims of the epidemic, Gren had become skittish and reticent. “I think it’s a shame for there to be distance between us.”

He looked down at the covers, then back at her. “You want me closer?”

It took her a moment to understand why he sounded flustered, and then she was blushing. “No no, I meant, uh, emotionally! We’re allies now. I trust you and I want you to trust me, so don’t hold back your thoughts.”

“Hm.” Gren thought, then nodded. “Okay.”

The dancing flame of the lamp cast hectic, shuddering shadows on his face, making his eyes flash in alternating glints. For a moment she lost her train of thought at the sight. “S-So yes, again, regardless of what the council decides, my personal allegiance lies with Ghuria now.”

“Have you really thought that through? Now is the perfect chance to back out and remain here, safe.” He paused. “To be frank, it’s your last chance. Once we make it to Ghuria you’ll need to follow through. It would be cruel to give us hope and then back out at some point down the line. It would be unforgivable. Do you understand?”

Of course she did, and she was prepared. “I won’t turn back now.” To do this, she had to be more than ready to put her life on the line.

Gren nodded, and just then she couldn’t tell if the way his eyes flashed was a trick of the light or a sign of intense feeling. “I see.”

She wanted to completely reassure him. “I’ll use all of my strength to put an end to this war. That’s my promise to you. To all of Ghuria, Sacer and Sirpo as well.”

He let out a short breath. Laughter? “Do you always make such bold declarations?”

“This is new for me, actually…” How to sound strong, how to be strong? She was still trying to figure it all out. “Do I sound arrogant or naive?”

His momentary silence was confirmation. “But I don’t mind it. I mean, it’s…” He shook his head, giving up on explaining, and offered a small smile instead. Somehow, even that slight expression was just so…so dear, and meaningful.

They spoke of their plans. All of Sirpo would mobilize to aid Ghuria in terms of trade if that was what the council decided. If not, it would be the two of them scrambling back to the shriveled lands below with empty hands.

The next morning, a crisp and clear one, she lifted her hands towards the ceiling and was surprised to find that they hadn’t changed. If it was possible for the entire thing to have been a dream, for life to still be simple and clean and ignorant… No part of her desired that world anymore. There was important work to be done.

By the time she’d completed her morning routine, Gren was nowhere to be seen. That said, she approached her parents’ former bedroom with soft, hesitant steps. Though Gren had journeyed back to Ghuria once in the past several days to explain the current situation to his remaining allies, he’d stayed last night in Dorothea’s home. Rhys, wanting privacy between his work of helping to organize and calm Sirpo’s people, was holed up in Shark’s apartment and would meet them at their destination.

A small part of Dorothea rebelled against entering a room that had so long remained a relic to things lost. The man indirectly responsible for the death of her mother was now in her bed. Life had spun an odd web.

Gren was still sleeping, curled up and breathing softly. His arms constricted a pillow to his chest while his face was buried in it. Pale morning light gave the scene a sense of tranquility while making his rosy-brown skin seem to glow faintly. Probably her imagination, that.

She hesitated after reaching out to touch his bare shoulder. A sense of inappropriateness struck her, but just standing there made things worse. “Gren. It’s time. Wake up,” she said softly, noticing the hollow of a dimple.

“Mmrgh,” he groaned, rolling over in mindless protest. The blankets fell away from his back to reveal sharp shoulder blades and defined muscles that flexed as he stretched out.

Oh goodness. Oh goodness. “Gren. Hey.” A poke to his back that was more like a jab. Then another. “Wakey wakey…”

“Mrr… Hmph.”

Through her exasperation, she still found the whole thing a little adorable. “Gren! Get up please!” She reached over, wrenched the pillow away and smacked him with it.

“Hwuh! Yeah, I’m up,” he groaned, sitting up and letting out a yawn as he stretched. “I’m up…” He rubbed at his eyes, then really looked at her for the first time. “Oh.”

“Good morning…” Dorothea looked at her feet to find the alarm clock she’d lent him there. So… Did he always have a hard time getting up? Moreover, had she always found habits like that this cute? “Well hello first off, I was concerned as to your whereabouts which is why I’m here and I apologize if the situation seems at all indecent to you not that I find anything particularly indecent about your sleeping habits nor do I find anything pleasing about them I feel quite neutral and so it is time for us to start our business for the day so that is why I am here and I apologize for touching you!”

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“Uh…” Gren cast a glance to his shirt DEAR GODS his pants were there too, folded on a table across the room. “Sorry. I’ll only be a few minutes.”

“Yes. Of course.” Dorothea spun around as she spoke, putting her hands to her warm cheeks as she marched from the room.

It was a surprise. He woke with so little of a guard about him, groggy and languorous. How human. Her previous image of him and the reality of the boy clashed in a way that made her feel ashamed.

In minutes he joined her on the porch, tying his uneven hair up into its standard messy bun, several strands hanging about his neck. When he noticed her looking, he smiled faintly. “It shows I cut it myself, huh?”

“No, you’re handsome. No, I mean, your hair is handsome, I mean it’s fine…! I mean… Ugh.” She was being ridiculous, the worst part being that she didn’t understand why.

He let out a short breath, which she now figured was his version of a laugh. “Don’t worry. I’m not the type to misunderstand a simple statement as a significant one.”

“O-Oh… Oh. Um. That’s…” Why did she feel disappointed? But no matter. “That’s good, haha! We have business, don’t we!” Though she’d much prefer to stay here enjoying this respite, however awkward, it was time. “No matter what… I’m with you.” She smiled shyly as she returned the words he’d given to her. “Isn’t that right?”

He looked dumbly surprised for a moment before a broad smile flashed across his face, one that quickly disappeared as he returned to the careful placidity that defined him. “Of course.” Amazing, that smile. It, and him, made her feel like anything was possible.

But what right did she have to happiness in light of what the people she’d left behind might be feeling or going through? Shark, Cerid, Ariana… What were they doing now?

“Are you okay?” Gren asked.

“Hm? Oh, yes!” Dorothea forced a laugh. “I got distracted for a moment. Forgive me.”

“You…” He shook his head. “Let’s go.”

“Right.” No time to dwell on what might already be lost. There was far too much at stake.

*

The council meeting concluded, and Gren braced for the chill that would rake its claws through him the moment he went back outside into the freeze at Dorothea’s side. Though she was trying to maintain her composure, her hands started to tremble the moment they were out of sight of the remaining members of the Sirpoan council.

“They all said no,” she said.

“Right,” Gren confirmed.

“Not one of them wanted to help.”

“Mm.”

“I thought that once we explained…” She took a deep breath. “We were prepared for this, but I didn’t realize I would be so disappointed.”

“You did your best. We all did. After what happened, they’re just scared for their own safety,” Rhys reasoned. He glanced at Gren. “That’s all. No need to think of anything else.”

Rhys Tamlin. Gren examined him sidelong. He always seemed to be deep in thought almost to the point of total distraction, but he was sincere and caring. His words just now for Gren’s benefit were evidence of that.

“Appreciated, but we all know it was because I’m involved,” Gren stated. He was a killer, an instigator of war no matter how unintentional. Why would the Sirpoans offer help to the land he wanted to save?

Dorothea shook her head vehemently. “I told them what kind of person you are and the truth behind the epidemic. Their failure to come to terms with that is no fault of yours.” She offered a confident smile, but his eye was drawn to her arm.

He wondered if she had really processed any of what had happened to her—it was a life that had been upended and torn multiple times in a short window of time—or if she was just pushing forward on fumes. “Wesley will be here soon.” He was coming up to ferry them to Ghuria so they could start working as soon as possible. Gren was just glad he’d had the sense to escape and hang back in Ghuria after the last battle instead of doing something reckless.

Dorothea’s smile was awkward. “He’s…an interesting man.”

“They won’t all accept you instantly, but they’ll come around.”

“It’s really fine. They’re not obligated to forgive me. I’ll just try my best.” Grinning, she gave him a thumbs up.

She was definitely trying too hard to seem happy. Gren knew he was right because Rhys was frowning too. “I’ll keep you safe, you know,” he said quietly. It was difficult to say things like this and to sort out exactly how he felt. “You’re essential.”

“Well, my magic is,” she corrected with a laugh. “But isn’t it the same for you? If I’m essential, then you’re…the heart. You’re the heart of everything, Gren. You reached out first, remember?”

Everything she had said to comfort him when he’d been convinced he was going to die came back, suffusing his chest with heat. Most, when they put him in association with the heart, were convinced he lacked one. She had a way of saying amazing things so casually his head spun.

“Hey.” Dorothea’s smile looked a bit easier. “Can I take you guys somewhere before we go?”

Rhys smiled with gentle indulgence. “Sure.”

“Mm,” Gren agreed. She started off but stopped when he tapped her shoulder. Rushed footsteps had approached from behind.

“Miss Atlin?” A family of four stood behind them, two men and two children. The man who had spoken carried a large box in his arms. His gaze darted nervously to Gren, who tried to squint less to look friendlier but failed because the light bouncing off the snow was too intense and unfamiliar. Besides, how was he supposed to act when he didn’t know what he might have done to these people with his magic?

Dorothea patted his arm as if reading his thoughts. “What can I do for you?”

The man unloaded the box into Gren’s arms, shocking him with his willingness to risk touching. “We all knew what the council would decide, really. We’re a nation in shock and in recovery. That said, it’s not much, but here. Medicine, nonperishable foods…” He paused. “Good luck.”

Dorothea stepped forward to grip his hands. “Thank you. Thank you.” The man seemed taken aback, but he smiled, put at ease by her sincerity.

“There are more of us,” he said. “If you’re willing to wait, we can put together what we have to give you.”

Dorothea looked to Gren, and he nodded. “We’ll help move things along, then. Thank you thank you thank you!” She shook the group’s hands vigorously one by one, surprising them into smiles. “This means so much.”

Gren sighed softly, relieved. A little was far better than nothing, and they would take everything they could get. Besides, she looked happy.

Morning bled away, and the afternoon drifted past until night concluded their efforts. They appealed to every Sirpoan citizen. Sometimes an impassioned speech and heartfelt conversations lasting an hour or more still ended in failure. Rhys, making it obvious to Gren that he’d been a public spokesperson at some point, was instrumental in turning many people on the edge of refusing around. Others wordlessly handed over what they could.

Wesley, having arrived at midmorning, kept busy transporting shipments. He wasn’t the type to ask for or win favors, so this was the best place for him. Once they were finished, he met Dorothea, Rhys and Gren at the former’s house.

“Are we done?” He yawned widely as he rubbed at the imprints his goggles had made. “Good, now let’s go.”

“Hold on.” Gren turned to Dorothea. “Where did you want to take us earlier?”

Her eyes widened. “No, it’s not important.”

“Let’s go just for a little while,” Rhys urged.

She looked at Wesley nervously. “Is it okay…?”

He shrugged. “I’ll just follow at a distance and then we can get out of here.”

Dorothea led the way past the outskirts of Iluna. They waded through the dancing lights of lampposts that guided them to a black, fathomless lake. Wesley veered to stroll around its perimeter while the others approached a dock.

“You know,” Rhys said, “I think I’ll go try to break the ice with him. You two go ahead.”

“You’re braver than I am,” Dorothea laughed. She turned to Gren. “Then…?”

“Yeah.” She started walking, and he turned over his shoulder to look at Rhys. Their eyes met, and Rhys gave a small, knowing smile before putting his hands in his pockets and approaching Wesley.

Gren pursed his lips and put his knuckles to his cheek, embarrassed. So he was that transparent. “I really feel my age right now…” Sometimes he forgot that in the end he was still just an eighteen-year-old who knew more about the easiest way to snap a neck than making friends, much less…whatever it was he was feeling towards her.

“What?” Dorothea turned back and tilted her head at him.

“Nothing.”

She smiled. “Come on.”

Water frothed rhythmically against the dock posts, but otherwise all was quiet. The night felt so delicate that Gren found himself holding his breath. It had been years since he’d had the chance to bask in such safe stillness.

He lost himself to tranquil thoughtlessness until Dorothea pressed her shoulder to his, jostling him lightly. He almost turned his head to question her, but with their nearly identical heights and close proximity it would have been inappropriate to do even that much.

“You were shivering.” She spoke just above a whisper, indicating that she too was bowing to the power of this place. They stood for a few minutes longer in silence until she said, “I used to come here when I was at my most uncertain.” Her words wrapped around him before drifting away on the wind. “I would look out and feel renewed. It’s aweing and calming at the same time, isn’t it?”

“Mm.” He’d stay here for a long time if he had the luxury.

“I wanted to share this with you especially. It reminds me of the story with the sapphire star and the ruby moon.”

Indeed, the moon was reflected on the surface of the water as if it had plunged in. “It does bring it to mind.” Along with the circumstances she’d told the tale in. It was a miracle they’d survived. Chance, rather, and they owed much gratitude to Ariana Kingfisher.

“Do you believe in the Gods?” The query held no expectation or judgment.

“No. But you do?”

“Yes. I love the stories, interpreting them for myself and thinking about what it means and what I should take into my life from reading them.” She let out a shy laugh. “It must seem silly to you.”

“Not at all.” He paused. “I’d like to hear more stories someday. If you want to tell them to me.” Anything would be fine, really. He just liked to hear her talk. She also didn’t seem to mind that he wasn’t a wordsmith, which helped.

“I’d be happy to.”

He searched hard to find the right words, and he crafted something after several minutes of thought. “Once upon a time,” he said quietly, “a man smothered by death met a woman trapped by falsehoods. They reached each other and began to seek their own justice. The hope they gathered gave them the strength to move past despair and face the future.” He looked ahead, staying almost inhumanly still as she turned her face towards his, caught her breath, and whisked back around to face forward. “How do you think that story ends?”

He was somehow amazed that she responded just as easily as usual. “Happily, of course.”

If she said it, it would have to be so.