Jyx snorted. “At least then they’d see there are people who we’re hurting, not nameless, scary outsiders. They’d see a handful of scared people, with kids.”

Mina felt the tickle of an idea. She replayed for herself what Jyx had said, thinking through her idea, twisting it back and forth in her mind.

“Yes!” Kita said. “If the guardians see them and stop right now—”

Zek interrupted her. “A few wind guardians can’t stop the entire festival. We already tried giving the essays to lightning guardians. You can see how much good that did.”

Pixit saw the idea in her mind before she said it. «Yes.»

Really? You think it’s a good idea?

«I think it’s an excellent idea.»

Around her, everyone was talking: the guardians arguing about whether to stay or go, and the evacuees worrying about the storm on the mountain and beyond the mountain, destroying the outpost and their homes, ravaging the towns and cities. Some of the kids were crying. Some of the adults, too. Eione was arguing loudly that they wouldn’t be able to go home—​there wasn’t going to be a home left, thanks to the Alorrians. Varli was saying the children needed fresh clothes and food, and beds to sleep in. They were scared and exhausted. Neela agreed they all wanted to be cleaned up, if that was possible, but if not, they were grateful at least to be alive. Ferro was saying to bring them to Mytris, and Zek was telling him that that would never work—​they’d be caught. Kita was saying she didn’t care if they were caught, because this was the right thing to do.

“I have an idea,” Mina said.

No one heard her.

“I have an idea!” she said, louder.

Still, they were all talking at once. Can you ask Chauda to ask Jyx to get their attention? Pixit did. Jyx whistled loudly, and everyone shut up. “Mina has an idea,” Jyx said.

They turned to look at her. All of them, guardians and evacuees alike, were a bedraggled mess. They were mud-spattered and soaked through, filthy and pathetic. Looking at them, no one could deny they’d been through a disaster.

“There’s still a chance to stop the storms,” Mina said. “But we need to fly.”

“Where?” Ferro asked.

“To the heart of Alorria. To the capital city. To the prime minister herself.”

Saril sputtered. “But we can’t go to the prime minister looking like this! And we can’t bring outsiders with us! Do you know how many people will be around her? How many will see?”

Mina nodded. “Yes. I do. And they all have to see us, exactly as we look now. They have to see what our storms do. And they have to see who they hurt. They need to see that the rumors have faces and voices and names and lives.”

Neela was nodding. Eione too.