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“Like Orpheus into the underworld,” Liam quipped. “I hope we can sing sweetly enough for Hades.”

“You are such a nerd,” Abby wheezed. She jerked her chin toward the tunnel. “That way.”

It was theonlyway, but someone still needed to say it, or we would have stood forever in that round room. We walked single file, and while we had to squeeze through a few narrower spots,we made it through—through to the last door, set in stone the color of a corpse.

Outside, everything was the same color. The sea, the sky, the stone. Not one blade of grass grew. This whole island was a grave. And it was the nearest thing to the world the Six-Wing wanted to unleash.

“This way,” Abby said, setting out. Liam took my hand. I looked at him, startled.

“I’m sorry,” he said. Sorry for the hatred in his eyes before. But he didn’t need to apologize. He didn’t have an echo to bear the horrible things that thrashed and snarled within him. He had to tame them himself. I was the lucky one.

But now I was alone.

Abby led us to the white rocks, along the track worn smooth by years of Sophie’s passage. It was a miracle that she’d survived. A miracle that she’d stayed sane—or mostly sane.

I reached for my flashlight, but Abby put a restraining hand on my wrist. “We’ll wait out here,” she said. Not understanding, but unwilling to disobey, I handed her my flashlight and faced the shadows of the second chamber. I remembered this place. I remembered her voice. But I couldn’t remember the sight of her. Her face. Her touch. Sophie had hidden those from me, and I was afraid to find out why.

“It’s...” Abby began.It’s okay, maybe. But it would have been a lie, I could see that in her face. “It’s bad,” she said instead. “But she’s still her. And she’s been waiting for you.” Liam met my eyes,and it was as warm as if he’d wrapped his arms around me.

This is what I’d come here for. And so I walked into the dark.

The angle of the walls almost completely blocked the light from outside from reaching the small space. Only the light that reflected off the white walls managed to filter in, and as my eyes adjusted, I could make out the contours of the room. The craggy walls. The low ceiling that I had to duck to avoid. And the form at the back of the room, against the wall, sitting with her knees to one side, arms limp at her back, head hanging low.

“Sophia,” she said. Her voice was the hiss of the tide across a forgotten beach. “You came back.” She lifted her face. Her hair hung in stringy, stiff sections around it, and salt tracked down her cheeks, the accumulation of a lifetime’s tears.

“I came for you,” I whispered. She looked skeletal. She wasn’t just leaning against the salt wall—it had grown over her, turning her clothing into firm plates like armor, coating her skin, which was red and raw beneath.

But she was my mother. She was the face I saw when I closed my eyes. I had always wondered if that face was a real memory, or if it was a composite of pictures and stories and imagination, but here she was in front of me and it didn’t matter.

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry I couldn’t go with you.”

“You had to protect Sophie,” I said. “I know that now.”

She reached for me, but I was too far away. I hesitated—hesitated just for a moment, staring at that salt-rimed skin, those sunken eyes, those brittle limbs. Her face crumpled. “You’re afraid,” she said despairingly.

“Yes,” I said. My voice broke. “I’m afraid. I’m afraid of thisplace. I’m afraid of what you’ve turned into. I’m afraid of what’s going to happen to me and what thatthingwants me for. I’m afraid, Mama, and you weren’tthere.” A sob tore free of me. She stretched out a hand for me again—but she couldn’t reach me. I was the one who had to move.

Step by halting step, I did. She caught my hands and drew me down, drew me against her. Her heart beat erratically. Her skin was cold and sharp with salt. She smelled of sea and stone, and there was nothing soft in her, but she held me, and I wept, and my tears made channels in the salt.

“Little bird,” she said. “I thought you would be safe.”

“I wasn’t,” I said. “He threw me in the water. You weren’t there, and he tried to kill me. I don’t know how I didn’t drown.” Blame was a thorn in every word. I couldn’t help it. I knew why she had stayed, and still I hated her for it. I hated her for choosing Sophie over me.

“Neither do I,” she said. “But you didn’t drown. You lived, and you’ll live now. Both my beautiful girls will live.” She said it like she was making a promise to herself.

“The Six-Wing took Sophie,” I told her.

She stiffened. “No,” she said. “No, no, no, that can’t—she can’t—”

“She said it wouldn’t hurt her,” I hurriedly added. “She said it needed both of us.”

“Yes,” she said with some relief. “It needs you both. But once it has you both, it’s done.”

“But we can stop it,” I said. “Sophie and I. If we’re together, we can destroy this place.”

I sat up, pulling away from her. She pressed her palms to my cheeks, her smile fragile.

“I have dreamed of you a thousand times,” she said. “I wish that you had stayed away. But I know that you can do this.”