“Hi! I’m Eva.” She raised her hand up.

One of the Halcyonus whispered to the other, and both scurried past her out of the station. Eva relieved herself in the simple bathroom and exited. “I hope the others in this village are more like Hostia’s family,” she said to herself as she pulled the Omnipod out from under her blanket.

As she captured holograms of the village and its inhabitants from the walkway, Eva heard music—the same lilting music from the night prior—drifting down.

Eva paused and closed her eyes, mesmerized by the wondrous fugue.

“Human child.” She heard a breathy whisper within the song. Eva opened her eyes and looked around. A flock of turnfins fluttered across the square above her as villagers below began to open their market stalls. Eva searched the locals milling about: She saw the party of fishermen heading down to the bridges below, a street sweeper cleaning, and a group of yogis stretching on their mats, but no one addressing her.

“Human child,” the song whispered again. “Eva the Ninth. Nine Evas. The child human.”

“Who are you?” Eva scanned the multitude of windows across the plaza, trying to locate the source of the music and the whispering. High above, the flock of turnfins circled and squawked, as if they were pointing down to a tiny hut nestled between two larger shacks at the topmost tier of the village. As her eyes traced the latticework of stairs that led to it, Eva started toward the remote location. She paused for a moment at the door to her room, but the mysterious melody danced in her ears. Entranced, she pocketed the Omnipod and headed toward the tiny hut.

CHAPTER 24: GIFTS

Eva crept along the rickety walkway that circled past the many homes of Lacus. With each step she ascended higher and higher into the towering village. More than once she had to dodge a bewildered resident as the locals emerged from their huts for morning chores.

“How do you know me?” She looked up at the slew of windows still high above her.

“I know many things,” the song murmured back to her. “Many things I know.”

“Are you like me?” Eva squinted up through the sun’s morning glare to check her bearings.

“I am like you,” the voice whispered, “but you are not like me.”

Arriving at the topmost tier of houses, Eva stopped in front of a large round hut where one of the cables holding the pennants was anchored. The closest flag, a faded orange streamer with stars and symbols painted on it, danced and twirled in the wind—revealing a narrow stairway alongside the home. Eva edged up the steps as the music drifted down over her, tantalizing her and leading her along.