As soon as Mary stood up, about half the Afterlights knelt before her respectfully, as if they had been in the habit of doing so. The other half just stood about, looking lost, confused, and startled by living-world traffic that barreled past them.

At first she assumed the kneeling Afterlights were the children she had gathered, but none of their faces were familiar, and there were only about a hundred. When she had been so rudely dragged back to the living world and summarily killed by Milos, there had been close to a thousand.

Mary quickly surmised that the confused ones were all Greensouls—new arrivals to Everlost who had all just woken up from hibernation. But why had they all woken up at once? Clearly something out of the ordinary had occurred here.

“Thank you for the warm reception,” she said. “But there’s no need to kneel.” The kneeling Afterlights reluctantly rose to their feet. “Where is everyone else?” she asked. “Where’s the train?” But no one would field the question.

“Yeah . . . about the train . . .”

Mary turned to see a familiar face at last. “Jill!”

“Hi, Mary,” Jill said. “Uh . . . long time no see?”

Mary stepped out of the coffin and went to her, grasping her hand. Jill, she knew, was not an affectionate girl, but Mary believed everyone could benefit from a warm greeting. “It’s good to see you,” Mary said. “I have so many questions.”

“Yeah, me too!” shouted one of the newly awoken Greensouls. He was rapped in the arm by one of the more respectful Afterlights.

“Quiet! Show respect before the Eastern Witch.”

The Eastern Witch, thought Mary. Not a title she cared for, but for the time being it would do, if it brought her this level of respect.

Another Afterlight came up beside Jill—a strange one. He wore no shirt and his oddly colored muscular body bore spots and a velvety sheen. His eyes were vaguely nonhuman and where other boys his age might be sprouting facial hair, he was sprouting whiskers. Mary would have laughed, but he seemed way too serious for laughter.

“Jill, please introduce me to your friend.”

Jill opened her mouth to speak, but the spotted boy spoke first.

“My name is Jix,” he said. “And you should not be awake.”

“Well,” said Mary as politely as she could under the circumstances. “It appears that I am, doesn’t it.”

“It was not meant as an accusation, just a fact.” Jix said. “Things will change now. The three of us should talk.”

Mary studied Jix closely. “Are you the leader here,” she asked, “or some sort of mascot?” The question was meant not so much to belittle him, but to gauge his confidence. If he bristled, he was weak and easily manipulated. But if he let the insult roll off his back, then Mary would have to carefully finesse this relationship.