After the noise and cacophony of the world ending, my ears rang sharply with the sudden silence. But it was working. Waves rolled out from Anahera, breaking against the bubble of Aaru’s power. It was incredible, seeing the edge of silence like this.

As ships began to steady, other nearby vessels moved into the space Aaru was protecting. It was slow, agonizing work for them, trying to maneuver in such nightmarish conditions, but soon, two dozen ships had gathered into this small area of relatively calm water.

Carefully, I lowered until I was even with one of the ships—the Chance Encounter, I realized—and started to let people off. First the two strangers, then Safa, and then Aaru.

When I didn’t follow, Aaru turned around, curiosity and concern written in his expression. “Mira?” No sound came out—the world was perfectly silent.

I offered a tight, sad smile, and tapped against the first dragon’s starlight scales. ::Sail toward the Algotti Empire. Maybe she’ll change her mind.::

A thousand emotions passed between us—grief, sorrow, longing—but there was no more time for us.

::I love you,:: I said. ::Tell the others, too.::

Aaru’s mouth opened, as though he wanted to speak through the solid silence he’d cast, but I didn’t give either of us a chance to change our minds. I ducked back into my place and flew, climbing and climbing, not looking back because I couldn’t bear the thought of seeing his face when he figured out why I’d said good-bye.

They needed to go—all of them—but I couldn’t give up while there was still one island left.

My island. My home. My birthplace.

I had nothing to go on this time, just hope that Darina would listen to me.

I burst from the bubble of silence with a roar that could shatter stars. All the pain, fear, and despair—I screamed it away as I wheeled toward Darina, rounding Damyan as he still reached out for her. I soared over the green mountains and valleys, the farms and fields, and the pristine beaches. I flew as fast as I could, taking in the last Fallen Isle with tear-distorted yearning.

I would not—could not—give up.

Then I saw it: Crescent Prominence. My city.

The prominence itself was still there, a seven-fingered hand stretching to the ocean, and utterly still, like no one had dared return to the houses there after the evacuation. The harbor was empty: no ships, no fishing boats, no people searching the abandoned crates for supplies.

As for the main part of the city, all the smoke had long ago cleared from the air, but the evidence of the explosion was still present. Blackened buildings crumbled in the sunlight, and the streets were a mess of debris from the attack that day . . . and other tragedies, which must have occurred after I’d left. Maybe there’d been anarchy after the Luminary Council was killed. Or panicked looting and trying to escape, after Idris rose. Or rioting, after Paorah declared the Mira Treaty—and me—dead. It was impossible to say.