The sun had long since set, and the light from the giant mirrors had dimmed along with it. The village had grown dark, though the yellow lights filtering through windows cast a soft glow here and there. They flickered like starlight, making the night seem vast and unfamiliar. In the canopies of the trees, I could hear animals settling down to sleep, and others awakening, readying themselves to roam the night. An unfamiliar animal looked down at me from its nest, its eyes wide and orange. Its soft, black-and-white-striped tail wrapped tightly around the branch, steadying it. The two of us stared at each other, silently, for a long while, before the creature gave up and scurried off on its way.

I dipped my hand into the creek, feeling the cool water swirl around my fingers. A small psara swam up, nibbling my fingertip before darting away. I smiled softly. There was more life here on the inside of the mountain than the entirety of the Iamos I’d known.

The anger I’d felt earlier had dulled by now into a small, dimly-glowing ember. I’d spent the afternoon talking with Gitrin about everything—the time postern, Ceilos, the geroi and their plan for Isaak. She’d shown me the village, and the farmland, and the forests that framed the cavern’s edge; and slowly, reluctantly, I had come to realize that maybe this wasn’t the den of terrorists the geroi had insisted the anarchists were. Many of the refugees I met today were scientists like Gitrin, whose research had been halted by the geroi. They didn’t want to destroy Iamos—they wanted to heal it. And they had the technology to do so, right here and now. They knew how to reverse the atmospheric degradation, to revive the world, make it like it was before. But the gerotus had told them no. Just like when Gitrin and I had shown them our plans for the time postern. And today, finally, after all this time, I realized why.

Because healing Iamos would mean that the geroi weren’t needed anymore. And they couldn’t have that. They would rather have no world at all than a world where they didn’t hold the power.

It made me feel sick.

The one thing I didn’t understand was how Ceilos fit into all this. If the Elytherioi didn’t have him—if Eos was not the one who had commed me—then where was he? Who was behind his disappearance?

As I sat beside the water, thinking, I heard footsteps on the worn-dirt path behind me. I glanced up. Isaak stood under an arch of tree branches, tangled together at the entrance of the clearing. He waved halfheartedly as I got to my feet.

“You didn’t come to the evening meal. Where have you been all day?” I asked him as he drew closer.

He snorted, a small, forced laugh through his nose. “Hiding from my dad.”

“Oh. Yes, Marin told me that the man they’d found was your father. But you weren’t happy to see him? I thought you were looking for him.”

“I was,” Isaak said sheepishly. “But I realized afterward that maybe some things are better left not found.”

I looked down at my feet. “I think I know what you mean.”

Isaak moved to the creekside, crouching and peering into the dark water. “Any news about Ceilos?”

“None.”

“Figures. Did you get a chance to ask Gitrin about the time postern?”

I sighed. “Yes. I thought she might have saved a copy of the plans, but she left all her research behind in Hope Renewed.”

“Whoever broke into her apartment probably has it now, then.” He glanced up at me. “The geroi, do you think?”

“I don’t know.” I shrugged. Isaak grinned at the gesture, and I self-consciously rubbed my arms, half turning away from him. “She said she could probably recreate the plans relatively easily, but sending you back home might be harder. The posternkey that you used to get here would have the space-time coordinates stored on it, but Melusin has that now.”

His shoulders slumped. He breathed in slowly, staring at the creek so long I worried that I’d upset him. Then he finally nodded, seemingly resigned. “So there’s no way for me to get home without it?”

“I don’t know.” Hesitantly, I stepped forward and placed my hand on his shoulder. “There might be another way. What about your father? Does he still have the key he used?”

He shrugged and stood up, brushing off his pants and walking a few paces away.

Something inside me curled in on itself, and I suddenly felt exhausted. “I’m sorry, Isaak,” I whispered.

He looked at me. “It’s not your fault.”

“It feels like it is. Especially after—” I broke off, swallowing hard. I wasn’t ready to go into that with Isaak, everything that had happened with Ceilos, everything I’d done to cause this disaster. “I thought everything would fix itself when we got here—that I’d suddenly have all the answers. But I feel like I understand less now than I ever have before. There’s just more and more questions, and never, never any answers.”

As I spoke, something wet hit the side of my cheek. I felt it again, on the top of my head this time. Startled, I looked at the sky. The clouds above us were thick and dark. As I gazed up, another water droplet hit me in my eye.

“What is that?” I asked.

Isaak glanced up. “Oh, it’s sprinkling,” he said, as if it were the most uninteresting thing in the world.

I cupped my hand, and a few more droplets plinked into my palm. “Rain?”

“Yeah.”

I stepped away from Isaak, my shoulders shaking. I could hear it, now—the raindrops falling into the slow-moving creek, making tiny splashes. The air smelled wonderful, like cool, damp earth. I couldn’t take it. I could feel water streaming down my cheeks, not just from the rain. It was like the opening of the clouds cut me open, and now the tears wouldn’t stop coming.

“Nadin, what’s wrong?” Isaak said.

I swallowed, trying to find my voice. “It’s too much. How is this real? How can this be…” I trailed off, looking up at the dark clouds, letting the cold raindrops soak my face.

I turned. Isaak had come up behind me, and now my face was level with his shoulders. I couldn’t look up at him. My eyes focused on nothing as I said, “You know, earlier, Gitrin…” I took a shuddering breath, and started over. “I always was afraid of this. How I feel right now. I was afraid of being weak. The geroi never show their emotions. They’re always calm, always poised. Perfect. I thought the reason Gitrin told me I wasn’t ready was because I couldn’t keep myself together. I wasn’t a real leader—I was too angry, or too scared, or too sad. Just volatile. But tonight, Gitrin said”—I sniffled, wiping my face off with the back of my hand—“she told me that wasn’t it at all.”

“There’s nothing wrong with having emotions, Nadin,” she’d said to me, gently squeezing my hand. “It’s natural. The sterile world of the geroi, that’s what’s unnatural. That’s what I wanted you to see. What I was testing you for. If I used the geroi’s own standards, you were ready at your enilikin. But I don’t think you really want to be just like everybody else. You have the potential to be a great leader, to really help Iamos. Our people deserve for you to live up to your full potential.”

My eyes stung with fresh tears. “But I don’t feel like a leader, Isaak. Especially now.” I ran a hand through my damp hair, looking down at the ground. “All I feel is scared.”

Isaak put his hand on my shoulder. I froze, then finally dared to look up at him. His mouth was pulled up into a crooked smile, one that made my heart beat inexplicably off-kilter. “Come on, Nadin,” he said, gently brushing my shoulder with his thumb. “You’re putting too much pressure on yourself again. Stop worrying so much about what might happen. Just take it one day at a time.” He grinned at my expression and swiped at my cheek playfully. “Besides, you don’t have to do any of this by yourself. You’ve got Gitrin, and Eos and Marin. Everyone in Elytherios. And…” He hesitated, then said, so quietly I could barely hear him, “And me.”

Those two words somehow managed to make my heart soar and break, all at once. Because he was here, now. But he didn’t belong here. He had to go back to his own world someday. And he knew it. I could hear it in his voice, in the unspoken words at the end of his sentence. I had him—for now.

And it occurred to me, for the very first time, that losing Isaak would kill me as much as losing Ceilos.

I reached up, my fingers brushing his chest, hooking around the folds of his shirt like an anchor. He looked startled, but he didn’t pull back. Instead he smiled and pulled me close to him, arms wrapped around my waist in an embrace.

My pulse staggered, and for a panicked moment I was afraid he was going to try to put his mouth on mine the way Ceilos had. But he didn’t. He just held me, until my heartbeat steadied, and my tense muscles relaxed, and my fears evaporated one by one, leaving nothing but calm. Safety. I breathed in the smell of him, warm and familiar, and for once in my life, I didn’t worry about anything. I didn’t think of what could be, what was coming. There was only here and now: Elytherios, and the rain, and Isaak.

I never wanted it to end.

“Isaak,” I said. My voice came out muffled against his shirt, and I felt his chest vibrate as he laughed. Grinning, I leaned back, looking up at his face. “I know—”

“Nadin.”

Isaak jumped, dropping his arms from around me and stepping back. The air felt suddenly cold without his warm presence filling it.

Gitrin stood at the edge of the clearing, holding a lantern. Her expression was unreadable in its flickering amber glow. A second, taller figure stood beside her, but I couldn’t make out his face.

“There’s someone here,” Gitrin said. “To see you.”

I peered through the shadows, and the figure stepped into the light.

Ceilos.