“I’m going to do it, Beru,” she said. “I’ll save a hundred lives. And then a hundred more. As many as I can.”

She wished, desperately, that Beru would go with her. That they could return to how it was, traveling from city to city together. But this time they’d help people instead of killing them.

As if Beru could read her mind, she pulled away from Ephyra and laid her hand on Ephyra’s cheek. “You have to let me go.”

“I know,” Ephyra said through her tears. “I know.”

She didn’t know how it would be possible.

The goddess stepped back, and with a smile that was purely Beru, she vanished.

Ephyra stared at the spot where she had disappeared as night consumed the sky, the first stars glimmering against the darkness.

She’d been losing Beru, over and over again, for almost half their lives, and it never got easier. Each time, it destroyed her. This time was no different.

But she would do what she’d never had the strength to do before. She would pull herself from the wreckage. She would gather the pieces that remained, and she would try to mend them into something new.

“So, this is it, then,” Illya said, passing Ephyra her bag. “The beginning of your quest for atonement.”

Ephyra frowned, taking the bag and hoisting it over her shoulder, with a glance back at the ship that was due to depart at any moment, with Ephyra on it. Illya had insisted on accompanying her to the marina. Jude and Anton had said their goodbyes earlier that morning.

“Are you mocking me?” she asked Illya.

“Never,” he said. Then, offhandedly, he added, “I could go with you, you know.”

She looked up at him in surprise. “Really?”

“If you wanted,” he said, his gaze resting on her face like a caress.

She did want it. Too much, probably. She let herself consider it, for a moment. Not having to be alone. Having Illya with her. Illya, who had seen the worst of her and stayed despite it. Illya, who loved her and asked for nothing in return. It would make everything easier, if he was with her.

And it was that, perhaps, that made her decide. “I want to say yes.”

“But?”

“I can’t,” she said. “I … think I need to do this on my own.”

His smile was tinged with resignation. He’d known what her answer would be.

“What are you going to do?” She realized he hadn’t told her his plans. And that she hadn’t asked.

“Go back home, for a little while,” Illya said. “Anton told me our grandmother is still alive.”

“I thought you hated her.”

“Yes,” Illya replied. “I’m fairly certain she hated me, too. But Anton suggested it might help with—well, you know. Letting go of it all.”