So far, the way back had been nearly as stressful as the journey to Eyry, not because Galina was gone, but because I was terrified of losing her once again. The Otzvuk leadership managed to arrange transport for us with an envoy sent by the neutral nation of Yezmirny, in order to provide much-needed food and medical supplies for expats and citizens of Yezmirskiy descent. The envoy had fortunately received travel permits from both Otzvuk and Fraktsiya officials, who were in no rush to make enemies with the technologically advanced nation beyond the Black Steppe.

However, despite these precautions, up until this point the journey itself had been nerve-racking. Rather than traveling by the old logging routes, we had taken off from Eyry’s airbase in a dirigible bearing the crimson wolf emblem of Yezmirny, a sleek vessel of cupro-aluminum and tan canvas. Loaded with supplies, it had made a slow track across the mountains, stopping at airbases in cities and towns with sizable Yezmirskiy populations to distribute aid and rendezvous with community leaders.

Despite Galina’s begging, each time we had landed, I refused to let her leave the ship, wary of the soldiers milling about and the pall of smoke that lingered on the horizon. Even Vanya seemed frightened, and in confidence, he told me that he was afraid to even inquire about his village, worried of what he might find. He had left the airship only long enough to send telegrams to Inga and Annushka, assuring them of our survival.

“The captain says we should land within the half hour,” Vanya said, sinking into the seat across from me. He hadn’t told me if he planned to return to Kupalo, even though Mikhail had provided him with an imperial pardon, travel permits to cross through Otzvuk-ruled territories, and several hastily drafted and unprecedented documents identifying him as a bogatyr of common blood.

Throughout our flight, Vanya had kept the papers in their sealed envelope, dropped carelessly atop our room’s storage shelf. Whenever the three of us moved around the small windowless cabin, shifting past each other to reach the double-bunked cots, Vanya and I avoided even looking at the envelope, or the nearly identical one that Mikhail had given me. The knowledge of what would come once the airship landed hung over us like a falling object, something heavy and plummeting at incredible speed.

Galina shifted, mumbling in her sleep. I smiled as she sucked on her knuckle. When I looked up, I found Vanya watching me with stormy eyes.

“What will you do if we aren’t able to heal them?” he asked, and now more than ever, I sensed it—that weight boring down with great velocity.

“I’ll stay,” I said.

“And if we do?”

“I’ll stay, too. Vanya, they’re my family.” The words spilled from my mouth helplessly. I didn’t feel in control of them—it was the debt I owed Mama and Papa for saving me. I was the only thing keeping my family together, even now, and if I left, they would fall apart without me. It was inevitable.