“I think you’re gods touched,” the girl concludes. “You just don’t know it yet.”

“That would be nice, actually. I wish I was.”

“You are. Or will be. I can feel it.”

“What was your name?” I ask.

“Rain. My mamma named me after what we need most. She said it’s the most fitting name ever because now that I’m here, she doesn’t even need rain, just me.” She grins proudly. “Okay, bye now!”

The girl runs off, and I stand there thinking about how many people I know named after some form of water—this small girl, myself, Brooke, Bay. Our gods deserted us and so we started looking for hope in one another, choosing names that remind us of what we’ve lost, hopeful that a loved one with that name might make us feel closer to what we so desperately need.

“There you are!” Cleo is standing at the edge of the bridge, hands on her hips. “Did you eat? Or even rest? We’re due back.”

The sun has long since crested the sky. It’s midafternoon. Time to harvest again.

I follow Cleo to the boardwalks, my heart heavy. The days will keep passing, no matter how much I wish to slow them, and harvesting sulfur is not going to save the people I love.

On the way back into Powder Town, I hear a familiar voice. “And the newest prototype?” I crane my neck, searching, and there, just inside the main gate and standing at the base of a watchtower ladder, is the Prime.

“Still untested,” Luce the Reaper answers.

“That’s unacceptable.”

“I have watchtowers to man, general training to oversee, boardwalks you now have me patrolling. We can’t do everything at once.”

The Prime’s shoulders pull back. “Drop the boardwalks and postpone training for a week. This needs to be a priority.”

The Reaper nods, and the rust-colored braid hanging down her back twitches in response. “It will be done.”

“Thank you.” The Prime places a hand on the back of Luce’s neck and draws the other woman closer, until their foreheads are touching. There’s something intimate about the moment, the way they’re looking at each other.

When they part ways, I break away from Cleo. “Prime!” I call out, jogging after her. She looks up, startled. Behind me, Cleo is hissing something about protocol. I take it you need to request an audience with the Prime, that you can’t just run at her like a heathen, but I couldn’t care less about norms anymore. “I need to speak with you.”

“I have some time tomorrow. Come to Prime Hall during your lie-down.”

“No. It has to be right now. Right here.”