Gull is … Gull. She seems at home with herself for the first time. We spend time together playing card games – it’s been the safest way for us to rebuild the bridges between us. I think we both try to let the other win. I made her laugh yesterday – that helpless gulping giggle – and I thought it sounded like hope. When the three of us spent the evening together recently, Verity asked Gull what she believed. I was afraid that the question would trigger terrible memories, but Gull was thoughtful and she told us that she didn’t know and that she was happy that way. She has fought for faith and I’ve seen her so broken as she has been trying to recover. She is healthy today, and for now, that is because she is staying clear of landing herself on any one thing. She makes me smile every day.

Karl and Obel work together in the studio. Some days they fight but I think they’re more like brothers than colleagues. Obel has had his hand reset and is dutiful in his therapy. Both his recovery and the business are going well. Karl comes and tells me the news; I like it.

Obel once told me that there was always redemption. It sounded so noble when he said it and it gave me hope. But my resolve has been tested over this last year – do I really believe in second, third, fourth chances?

He apologized for marking me that morning in the hall of judgment. When he reopened the studio, he asked me to pay a visit. It took a lot out of me, but, with Verity’s help, I made it. He had the chair ready and, confusingly, clippers set up too. Verity smiled and I knew she was in on whatever plans Obel had been making.

“You know, Leora – it’s not done to double up with ink.” He smiled. “I’ve already done one crow tattoo on you – two is just greedy. Besides, it’s not quite right for you – not your style.” My hair is still short from being burned away and I didn’t mind him shaving the back of my head again.

I am much better with pain these days – I barely registered the needle as he worked and Verity distracted me by speaking animatedly about a boy she likes. I was glad when Obel was finished though, eager to see what he’d done. I looked in the mirror and he held up another, so I could see what the mark was. Verity gasped. I could still see parts of the crow – blackened claws and feathers, but this was no crow, not any more. From the charred remains Obel made grow plumes of orange, red and teal. A phoenix stands guard behind me now.

“When you rise from the ashes, nothing can keep you down. You, girl, you’re on fire.”