The rest of the staff was melted down for placards memorializing friends we’ve lost along the way: one for Lyon and Gaia, one for Woody, one for Noelle, and even ones for Lixue, Boreas, and Névé.

I scoop Lyon’s scattered books from the floor and lay them on the desk, pausing over his tattered copy of Aesop’s Fables. The illustrations bring a smile to my face as I remember the first time I saw him carrying it, when he found me breaking into the Hall of Records, searching for a way to save Fleur.

I turn to the last page, surprised to find an ornate iron key taped to the inside cover. It’s rustic and old, with complex filigree around the handle and large square teeth. I pry it from the tape and set the book down to study the key more closely. The patterns aren’t any ordinary filigree . . . they’re the tangled roots of a tree. The shape matches the carving on the ironwood doors to the Hall of Records downstairs—the Tree of Knowledge.

And I know, without a doubt, Lyon left this key for me.

I finish tidying up. As I look back at his office, I send up a wish for Lyon and Gaia, that they’re together out there in the universe somewhere. I turn off the lights and pull the door closed, locking the office behind me.

Seasons, Handlers, and staff pause in their work to greet me as I walk by. I don’t correct them when they call me Chronos anymore. The effort to blend in was pointless. Even though I don’t wear a suit or carry a scythe, they all refuse to call me Jack. If anything, Fleur says the absence of the scythe and my willingness to swing a hammer alongside them has earned their respect, and this is simply how they show it. But if anything, I look up to them. Fleur and I had little choice but to stay. And there were plenty of Seasons, Handlers, and staff who decided not to, choosing instead to forge their own paths.

I slap hands with a familiar Winter as I pass through the open port into the Crux. The plexiglass barriers were the first demolition project we tackled. The completion of the task was celebrated with music, dancing, torchlight, and cake, and the party lasted for hours. When we woke the next day, we started our first addition to the Observatory—a memorial wall encircling the Crux, listing the names of every Season, Handler, and staff member who perished in the storms and quakes.