“It’s what we do here, our work. We’re building a place on this earth for everything the world disdains. For kindness, for gentleness, for work and togetherness. There is no competition here, no fighting, no backstabbing. Everyone has work, and everyone eats plenty. The Farm is the first of what will be many. It’s my own grandfather’s vision, truly, handed down to my mother. He’s the one who wrestled control of this place away from the Urquharts and their darkness to create a kingdom of the light.”

Hummingbirds swirled around me, a bright-flecked crowd of tiny flames, a burning holy cloud.

“And now it’s mine,” I said.

“Yes,” he said. “All yours.”

That night Grandma gave me my own room. It was the storeroom we’d found, Murphy and I. She moved all of the boxes out, cleaned the place up, gave me fresh sheets, all that. I felt grown, separated off from Murphy and my whole childhood, full of purpose. Everything was changing.

Murphy came to see me before bed. To be honest, I was surprised. I felt like she’d been avoiding me all day. She didn’t acknowledge me at dinner, didn’t look up from her work when I came to say hey. I could understand that. It was a lot to take in, what I was to become, what her place in the whole grand plan was. But in a sense Murphy had always been my protector, right? Didn’t she beat up the kids who picked on me when we were younger? Didn’t she have my back always? Murphy would come around—she just had to. My sister loved me, and that was just a fact.

Murphy sat on the edge of my bed and whistled.

“Nice digs,” she said.

“Yeah, no more bunk beds.”

“Got to be honest,” she said, “I kind of enjoyed sharing a bedroom with you.”

“It could have been worse.”

I thought about our rooms back home at Mom’s old place. It seemed like a lifetime away.

“I just wanted to ask you something,” she said. “Do you really believe this stuff? That you’re the prophet meant to lead this community and all that?”

“Yes,” I said. “I really do.”

Murphy bit her lip and nodded at me.

“Well, did you ever figure out why Mom and Grandma stopped talking? Why Grandma never came to visit even though you were the chosen one or whatever?”

“Grandma told us in the church. She said Mom was supposed to protect Uncle Jeremiah, and she failed. That’s why Mom had to leave.”

“Don’t you think it’s just a little bit fucked up that Grandma never cared enough to try and get to know us?”

“No, I don’t, Murphy. I think Grandma knew we would come to her when the time was right.”

“Was that in one of her visions? Or did our ghost uncle tell her that?”