Suddenly, her skin crackled and the moonstone flared up again like it had with Leela, but this time Sera was not pulled to that strange underground sky garden—she did not move at all, could still feel the freesia-scented water lapping against her body. And yet she could see twelve very familiar dwellings, except they weren’t vacant like they usually were. The round birthing houses were covered in chains of flowers, the field with the obelisk full of people. She caught sight of her old friend Treena, now a midwife, with an armful of blankets. Then she gasped. Her purple mother was crossing the field, a bucket of water in one hand.

“Mother,” she wanted to call, but her lips wouldn’t move.

Sera was shocked to see how vacant and dark her eyes were. She had never seen her mother look so empty or so sad. Her purple mother paused and turned, staring at the obelisk with a furrowed brow, but then someone called out, “Kandra!” and she roused herself and kept walking, leaving Sera with an aching heart. There was another crackle and the image faded until only the walls of the washroom remained. Sera blinked and found tears in her eyes.

She looked down at the moonstone lying innocently in her palm. It was all connected, she thought. Leela was right. If she had visions of Sera on the planet and now Sera was having visions of the City . . . perhaps whatever moonstone was left in the City was finally coming alive again. It just took a Cerulean coming to the planet to waken its power.

The High Priestess would be able to explain all of this, Sera was sure of it. The one person who could not be asked. Sera could not understand what the High Priestess gained in keeping them attached to this planet for so long, but she was certain of one thing. It was more important than ever that she get to the tether.

Even if she had to break it again, and do it right this time. The City was meant to move.

She stood and wrapped herself in a big fluffy towel, then froze. Her purple mother had been at the birthing houses. Leela had said a birthing season had begun. Sera had not put it together at first, but . . . that meant her purple mother had been blessed to bear another daughter. She leaned against the wall, her blood rushing in her ears, her magic churning in her veins. Had she been forgotten so quickly? But she recalled the look on her purple mother’s face and something strong and sure inside her said No. Her purple mother would never forget her.

But did her purple mother know she was alive, like Leela did? If they were friends now—strange as that thought was—wouldn’t Leela have told her?

There was a light tap on the door. “Are you all done, miss?” the serving girl asked timidly.