In my dreams, I return to the Gray Sea. A circle of white fire blazes on the sand by my feet. Mom’s figure rises from within the flames. The walls of our living room build around her.

The fire flares brighter and vanishes. The sand sculpture turns into real life. The living room looks exactly as it does today, only the couch is less threadbare, the carpet’s plusher, and the walls show fewer cracks. Mom piles bolts of black fabric onto the couch, a terrycloth robe wrapped loosely around her. I sigh. She’s already looking like a shabby, house-bound version of her former self. Sadness creeps into my bones. Senator Lewis is gone.

Someone knocks on our front door.

“Just a second.” Mom walks up to the door and swings it open. Xavier stands outside in his gray suit. A muscle twitches along his neck.

Mom waves him inside. “Xavier! Come in. Have a seat.” She moves a bolt of fabric off the couch and steps into the kitchen. “Do you want some ice cream? I don’t have anything as good as the old days, but I found this.” She stands in the kitchen doorway, squinting at a tiny package in her hands. “They’re called ‘Frozen Milk Product Bars.’”

“No, thank you.” Xavier’s eyes stay glued to the floor. Something about him is off, but I can’t put my finger on it.

“You’re right. I don’t know what I was thinking.” Mom steps back into the kitchen. “By the way, my service paperwork was approved. I’m officially a seamstress as of today.”

“I heard. Quasis with a service can’t be terminated. You’re safe now.”

“Thanks to you and your people.” Mom steps back into the living room, pulling her robe tighter around her.

Xavier inhales a ragged breath. “We need to talk, Camilla.” The hollow tone in his voice sets my teeth on edge.

Mom’s face creases in confusion. “Sure, won’t you sit down?” She gestures to the empty spot on the couch.

Xavier shakes head. “You were right all along. About Armageddon, the Oligarchy, everything.” He glances toward Mom, his eyes dim. Could he be sick? I have the overwhelming urge to rush to his side, take his temperature and pat his hand. Poor guy.

Mom’s forehead knits in confusion. “Why bring that up now?”

“I should have backed you up. I want you to know that.”

Mom shrugs. “If you’d agreed with me, it wouldn’t have made any difference. The Senate didn’t believe a word I had to say, just like you predicted. They almost had me impeached.” Her voice cracks when she says that last phrase. “You did what you thought was right, too.”