The rec rooms in the Winter wing are conspicuously vacant, the training rooms silent, the hallways dark. Usually, Kai leads the way, but since we left the kitchen, she’s trailed behind me, her eyes darting to every doorway we pass as if she expects her sister to be standing in it. Dorm room after dorm room . . . every door is shut. The Observatory feels abandoned, dead inside, eyes closed, fists clenched. But as we move through the halls on silent feet, listening to the murmurs of tense voices through the walls, it feels like we’re being watched, as if every Season and Handler trapped in these halls is holding their collective breath, waiting for something.

The hum of an urgent conversation quiets as Kai passes close to one of the doors. She raises a fist to knock, her mouth parting to call out to whoever’s inside. I reach for her hand to stop her, mouthing the word no.

“Shouldn’t we let them out? They’re trapped.”

“They’re safer if they don’t see us,” I whisper. I move away from the door, towing Kai behind me as the girls inside start banging and calling out to us. There are hundreds of Seasons and Handlers down here, trapped in their rooms. We can’t possibly save them all. As we pass Gabriel’s and Yukio’s old rooms, I have to remind myself they’re gone. In the wind. I could try knocking on a few other doors of Seasons I knew, but anyone who knew me well enough to help me is probably under surveillance. I can’t risk drawing attention to this wing. Not until I’ve found what I came for.

Lyon’s old office is tucked deep in the Winter wing. I never thought much about it before, but in hindsight, its remote location makes sense. Gaia would have wanted to keep Lyon far from Michael’s sight, well off his radar. I only hope the cramped, dusty office—and the orb Lyon was keeping inside it—is off Doug’s radar, too.

Kai stalls in front of every bulletin board we pass, skimming the posted announcements with her flashlight, probably searching for her sister’s name. I maneuver through the halls quickly, sticking to the darker corridors without power, forcing her to keep up. Her shoes splash in puddles left behind by broken pipes, the clack of her bow against her quiver letting me know she’s still behind me.

I jerk to a stop.

Kai slams into my back, and I hold up a hand to silence her. The door to Lyon’s old office hangs open. Instinct makes me draw a breath, desperate for any clue to what might wait for us inside. But all I smell is plaster dust and my own sweat.