From my childhood room at Storm’s End, I am alone with the birds. They murmur and whirr to themselves as the sun whispers from the east, telling a story of promise and panaceas, cures and celebrations. The small bench beneath the window was made for a child, but I still found a way to wedge myself onto it.

Last night, while most of the Heliana had their attention on the bonfire at the heart of the marketplace, I was looking skyward. The teams’ armor glinting in the moonlight was the only betrayal of their presence as they left.

Vera, who watched and waited up with me, had nudged my arm. “You okay?”

“No.”

“Yeah. Me neither.”

When we couldn’t see them any longer, Vera headed back to the Warriors’ Hall while I stayed at Storm’s End. I didn’t want to wake up in the Underbelly—it would only remind me that today was supposed to be our day. To have my dream put on hold was too much to deal with on top of my fight with Shirene, worrying about the teams, and trying not to count how many of the Storm’s End girls may be in sick beds by the end of the week.

“Please,” I had asked the stars, “please let them find it. Bring it home.”

I doze off, only to be woken again by the birds stirring on the panes by my mother’s balcony one room away from mine. Her voice carries in the morning air as she sings to them.

Careful not to make any noise, I sit up to try to listen better. Goose bumps sweep over the bare skin of my arms and midriff. I’d slept the summer night in a sleeveless linen shirt and pants, but it’s not the morning chill alone that causes the sensation. To hear my mother singing is one of my favorite things in the world.

I only remember one of my mother’s performances. It was shortly before she gave up singing to teach. She led the chorus at a celebration of my namesake, whom we can still see in the stars closest to the moon. I don’t know the words she sang. All I remember is a flash of rose-colored dress and the sound of bells as she moved her hands. Charging melodies rippling along with the sound of the other singers.

I am grateful to have the memory and even more grateful for every moment I’ve spent with my mother since then. Someone like Bel was not as fortunate. Both his parents were warriors, and both went to the Endless Skies on the same night my father did ten years ago. Bel was taken in by his relatives, but things kept going wrong for him. His aunt, warrior Ellian, was reported lost during her mission the next day. They never found her body.