I hesitate. “Do you believe ridding this world of humans is the only solution?”

Caelan looks at me curiously, lifting his shoulders. “It’s not like coexisting is possible.”

Ophelia says she tried it, a long time ago. But what did coexistence look like to her? And what was she willing to give up in order to have it?

Even families make compromises in order to live in peace. Maybe with the right rules—with the right people willing to lead the charge—we could all try again.

Maybe change needs to start with people on both sides who are brave enough to try.

“But what if it is possible?” I ask with a gentle voice. “If their essence is what holds this world together, what if—what if they could also find a way to free us?” I don’t know if it’s possible, or if humans could ever be strong enough to do something like that.

But what if we could trade their dreams for peace? What if working together could set us all free?

Caelan turns, frowning, and I worry I’ve gone too far. “Putting so much faith in humans would be a grave mistake. All we need to do is look at their history for proof. Even with so many centuries between them, they never learned to respect each other for their differences. They let their fellow humans suffer because of gender and ability and the color of their skin. They care more about being right than being truly kind, yet they also feign kindness as an excuse to remain ignorant. They are intolerant of different opinions. And when intolerance grows, they turn to war.” He tilts his chin. “They would never see us as equals; they would never truly let us be free. And I’m tired of existing in a cage.”

I look back at the stars. He sounds so much like Ophelia. Are humans really so hopeless?

If I can’t change Caelan’s mind—the only Resident I know who seems to want better than what this world is—then who is ever going to listen to me?

I can’t do this on my own. Hope is meant to be shared. Otherwise…

Otherwise it dies.

“Do you believe we could coexist?” he asks suddenly.

I shift my feet, thinking. “I believe everyone has the potential to learn, especially in a place where imagination and time can be infinite.” It’s not an excuse for why humans have always treated each other poorly. But maybe in death, humans can master what they never could in life. Maybe even the really bad people. “I believe in hope,” I say finally.

“And you’d trust them? After so much war and pain—you’d trust them to live alongside us? To give us the freedom to dream?”