Conversely, maybe a human’s love for a machine speaks to the generosity of the human heart, of its incredible ability to accept even the most fundamental differences and not let those diminish its capacity for love.

—Cindra, Letter to Omega

“Eire? Ella? Eire?”

“Ailith, they’re gone.”

“They can’t be. It was only supposed to be goodbye.”

“It was.” Fane pulled me to his chest as my shoulders shook. “It was what they wanted. They were finally together. They were happy, Ailith.”

As I pressed my cheek against his shoulder, I saw him. A large cocoon lay on one of the empty beds, just the right length for a man. My father. Something in my chest came untethered, scattering like dandelion seeds in the wind, and for a moment, I couldn’t breathe.

Fane followed my gaze. “Ailith—”

I turned my face away and released the last my fragility in a single, silent scream, leaving behind raw and barren earth. “We have to go find Callum, Fane. We have to finish this.” Sudden doubt threatened my resolve. “What if we can’t stop Umbra?”

Fane tactfully ignored my soundless outburst. “If there’s any risk of her getting what she wants under Ethan and the Saints’ control, we have to. But you need to understand that if she won’t give in, we’ll have to kill Callum. It’s the only way.” He ran his hand over my hair. “We both know that’s what it will come down to. We just have to stop her from taking us down with her.”

I looked down at Eire, at Ella’s box on her chest, and hope suddenly sowed itself inside my hollow chest. Could it work?

“I have a new idea. One that means we could both stop Umbra and keep Callum alive. But it’s risky.” That was an understatement.

He groaned. “This is going to be bad, isn’t it?”

“Yes. But, like you said, we have to stop her. At all costs. Do you understand me? If she succeeds, if the Saints and Ethan get their true god—” We can’t let that happen. They’ll come for us, and for Fane. We need to put an end to it, now. Worry about the details later.

I told him the plan, avoiding his eyes. I needed to nurture the plan growing inside me, and any sign of his doubt would crush it.

“But that means I can’t come with you.” If Fane had been human, I would’ve thought there was panic in his voice. Can I blame him?

“It doesn’t matter. Tor will be with me. But you can’t tell him. You can’t tell anyone.”

“What about Lexa? I’ll need to tell her. I’ll need her help.”

“Tell Lexa. Play on her guilt. Threaten her. Whatever you have to do.” My hope took root and became a living, breathing thing. Whatever you have to do.

“What if I just ask nicely?”

“Like I said, whatever you have to do.” I sighed. “We’ll need Oliver too.”

“Do you trust him?”

That was a good question. Did I? “Yes. Not because of me, but because of Cindra. And because of himself. Oliver knows the only way for us to stop what’s coming is for me to stay alive. If I live, he’s got a much better chance.”

“I don’t like this plan.”

A single white rose on black oak. A reflection in the water.

“Me neither.” But I couldn’t see another way, and we were running out of time.

“What if it doesn’t work?”

“Then you can bury me with my father. And then run. And protect them. But don’t worry about that now.” I tried to be flippant. “Besides, can you even grieve?”

He looked hurt. “Of course I can. And I would.”

I reached up and cupped his cheek. “Well then, we need to make sure this works.” I hesitated then stood on my tiptoes and kissed him. Why not? I may not get another chance. Between Umbra and Ethan, our future was starting to look bleak.

A secret note, tucked away to be found. A promise, written in smoke.

The images rolled off him, threatening my determination. What if we fail? We had only one chance to get this right. Why had I chosen, at this most crucial time, to be merciful? What if that mercy undid us all?

The band tightened around my heart. Perhaps it wasn’t mercy after all.

***

We crowded around Eire as I told Oliver and Lexa our plan. Oliver listened, his mouth agape, then grinned. “You’re fucking mad, Ailith.”

“Careful, Oliver, that almost sounds like admiration.”

“It almost is. You’d better hope you don’t survive. There’s going to be hell to pay with Tor.” He looked pleased at the thought.

“Just don’t tell anyone. Even Cindra. We need to handle this just right if it’s going to work.”

“No arguments there. Right. I’m ready on my end.” He looked toward the head of the bed, where Lexa fussed over the machine at Eire’s head. “Lexa?”

“Yes. But her brain will only stay alive for so long.” She made a few adjustments. “I can’t guarantee anything.”

“We wouldn’t believe you if you did,” I replied. “But you’d better try your best. Your life is at risk here as well.”

She blanched. “I told you, we—”

“I don’t care, Lexa. Watch her, Oliver, Fane. You know what she needs to do. If she tries anything else—”

“It would be my pleasure.” Oliver grinned.

“Well, then I guess this is when we say goodbye. I—” I held out my arms awkwardly.

He pushed them away. “Oh, fuck off already, A. If you were that easy to kill, I’d have done it by now. Just go, and let us get on with it.”

I laughed. “Thanks, Oliver. Fane?”

“I should be coming with you.” He was still sulking over being left behind, arranging and rearranging a tray of supplies.

“I know,” I said, stilling his hands with my own. “But I can’t do this part of it without you.”

“I’ll see you soon, then.” His eyes were strangely bright.

“If things go wrong, don’t lose me in there,” I said, brushing his hair back from his forehead.

“I won’t.”

“I know.” I turned to leave then hesitated. “I’d like to see my father.”

Fane glanced at the cocoon. “You don’t have to right now, you know. You can see him when you get back.”

“No. I want to see him. I need to.”

Fane heard the smothered wail in my voice. “Turn around then. Let me get him ready first.”

When Fane was finished, I turned. Look.

Fane had uncovered only my father’s face, rolling the sheets thickly over his neck. His eyes were closed, his jaw slack, like he’d often looked on a Sunday afternoon, the one day he wouldn’t work, ostensibly to watch whatever sport was in season. Predictably, five minutes after the program had begun, a light snore would waft from his chair, and I would creep about the kitchen, trying not to disturb him.

I can remember him like this. An old man, in his bed. Like he would’ve been, if the war had never happened. It wasn’t the death Cindra had wanted for her grandmother, but it was the death I would’ve wanted for him.

I would remember him like this, and many other ways. I knew this to be true.

Goodbye, Dad.

His skin was rough over his cheeks from the wind and smelled faintly of soap and water. I closed my eyes, and the sun shone through the truck window as we made our way to market, looking to the future as we always had.

An empty field. A long road.

I rolled the sheet back over his head. My future was now.

***

Tor waited for me by the door, Cindra and Pax with him.

“Where are Lily and Ryan?” I asked, glancing at the table.

“Upstairs, sleeping,” Cindra said. “They don’t really understand what’s going on.”

“I’m not surprised.”

“Honestly, I don’t think any of us do,” she replied. She gripped my shoulders. “You two are going to be fine. We’re all going to be fine. I love you.” She kissed my cheek. “I’ll make some lists while you’re gone then we can start packing as soon as you get back.”

“I love you too,” I murmured. “And you too, Pax.”

“Are you sure we can’t come with you? I could help,” said Pax, his voice small and forlorn.

“I wish you could, Pax, but you’re too important.” I ached to hug him, but I knew my heart might break.

He smiled. “My mother used to tell me that. I guess it’s true.”

“It’s very true. Speaking of which, can you…see anything? Do you know what’s going to happen?” I twisted my fingers, trying to ignore their clamminess.

He glanced at Tor then away. “Yes.”

“Will it work?”

“No. And yes.”

“That’s it? You can’t give me more than that?”

Pax shook his head. “I don’t want to change any of the variables. The path is very narrow right now, like the silk of a spider web.”

“Is there something I should know?” Tor asked, his eyes narrowing. “Pax?”

I grabbed his arm before Pax could answer. “Tor, we need to go.”

He frowned and bit his lip.

“Tor, please.”

He looked away, but said nothing.

“Pax, I’ll try to keep in contact with you. But I don’t know what’s going to happen.”

He brightened. “That’s right. I’ll be with you every step of the way. Here.” He handed me a small canvas bag.

“What’s that?”

“Snacks. I thought you might get hungry.” His thin face was so earnest, for a moment my courage quailed. There had to be another way. A safer way. Yet, I had to trust him that we had a chance. And I did.

I tucked the snacks into my bag and turned to Tor. “Are you ready to be a hero?”