The images changed. I took one step to the side to see better, as I realized which ones were responding. Flickering, vague images showed a doorway, thralls standing at the ready. Then a scene before that, Teacher stepping through the door.

He’s here.

“Amelia Lavere,” I said.

My sister, talking to two members of the Shin council, emphatic, while Chris wore a monstrous form and prowled behind her. It was pretty clear that what she was talking about was important.

“Mark Dallon. Is he okay?”

My dad facing down Amy, both of them in civilian clothes. He looked so much like he had when I’d stayed with him. He asked a question, and Amy’s face turned to fear, her mouth moving as she shook her head.

My dad looked as disappointed as Amy looked scared.

I had a good sense of what he’d asked, and my disappointment was for entirely different reasons. I knew he still had depression. Amy had never fixed it. It was a kind of hell, especially when he was so capable, but…

He shouldn’t have asked her to do anything to his brain. Not if he knew and understood everything about the situation.

“Amy Dallon,” I tried again.

Amy, wearing Earth Shin nightclothes, lying in bed, staring up at the ceiling, her hand flat on her stomach. It traveled southward, to the waistband, passing beneath.

I looked away, but not before I saw a sudden movement from her. She lay on her side now, hand trapped and unmoving between her thighs, expression angry.

“Yeah, I know who you were fantasizing about,” I muttered, disgusted.

The image changed. Me, sitting on the cot in the little cell in Earth Shin. Amy sitting across from me.

I didn’t—I’d known, but I hadn’t wanted to know.

This wasn’t some crystal ball I could rub, ask my question, and get a happy answer. Not with the names and questions I wanted to bring up.

I prepared to walk away.

“We can’t get down!” Tristan called out. “Look for another way!”

The images changed. Dancing from scene to scene, showing this place.

With no way down, only the sheer drops if one were to jump across the narrowest parts of the gap. Hundred foot falls. I had an idea as to how to handle that, but…

I stayed.

“Panacea,” I tried, again.

Dot, clambering up her arm, excited, cheerful. Amy pulling her hand away from a young girl, a blonde, who was chattering madly, as excited as Dot.

Amy looked at the boy who stood on the far side of the room, flinching every time Hunter gestured too wildly.

That was there. Here, spike-headed woman was still out there, struggling to reach across the chasm. Barring our way. In the background, I could hear another scrape, the raking claws of the giant woman with spikes that extended to infinity.

And here, beneath my feet, the lights flickered.