She had high cheekbones, wideset brown eyes, lush, full lips, and coppery dreads down to her waist. Her skin was the color of obsidian. Antennae rose from her forehead. When she stood, large, iridescent wings partially unfolded from her back.

“Adesina?” Michelle asked. It couldn’t be. This couldn’t be her daughter. But she knew in her gut that this strange girl was Adesina.

“Hey, Mom,” her daughter replied, walking to the edge of Michelle’s bed. Her voice was recognizable as Adesina’s, but it was deeper and more resonant. Instead of a puppy-sized insect body, Adesina’s figure was human in size and shape save for four vestigial insect legs along her torso. She’d cut slits into her T-shirt to accommodate them.

“You’re so different,” Michelle said. She reached out and touched Adesina’s cheek. It wasn’t soft and warm anymore. It was cold and hard.

“I’m still the same on the inside. I’m still your daughter. You’re still my mom.”

“And you saved me,” Michelle said as her hand fell away from Adesina’s face. Guilt washed over her. “In the catacombs. You shouldn’t have been there. All the things you must have seen…”

“It’s okay, Mom.” Adesina gestured to her body. “See, I’m fine. And you’re okay now, too.” But there was a slight tremble in her voice.

She’s not fine at all, Michelle thought. A hard lump formed in Michelle’s throat, and she tried not to cry.

All Michelle had wanted was to protect Adesina. That was her responsibility. It’s what mothers did. They kept their children safe. That was what everything had been for.

Going to Talas. The terror. All the death. Aero.

But she hadn’t protected Adesina at all. If she had, then there wouldn’t be this stranger standing next to her bed. The stranger her daughter had had to turn into to survive.

“I’m sorry, baby,” Michelle said. She couldn’t stop the tears now. “I’m so sorry.”

“We’ll talk later, Mom,” Adesina said. Her antennae twitched. “Everything will be all right. See, I’m safe now.” She paused, and when she spoke again the tremble was gone. “I’m who I’m supposed to be.”

The word had come to Barbara in Brussels. “Barbara, he’s alive.” Ink’s voice crackled over the speaker, and the words nearly made Barbara drop the phone from stunned fingers, that Lohengrin was alive.

“Klaus…?”

“Yes. Klaus. Tesseract sent him back to Jokertown. I made arrangements through the Secretary-General as soon as I heard. There’s a UN troop transport plane leaving from Brussels in an hour; I have you a seat on it…”

Now she was back in New York under a sky that was mockingly cloudless and blue, and she saw him, no longer Lohengrin but just Klaus, standing alongside a window, staring blankly outward to the bustle and confusion of the the city.