The crew wore freshly pressed black suits to the memorial service. They weren't Paragon uniforms, but they could certainly be mistaken for them at a distance. Despite her distaste, Wren didn't want to draw more attention to herself by wearing something flashy—the shade was already doing enough. It was wrapped around her shoulders like a shawl made of strange shimmery fabric.

Normally, Scarlett opted for long, striking dresses, but she wore the same simple black suit as the rest of the crew. Hers, however, included a long one-shoulder cloak that concealed her missing left arm. The cloak's collar was lace-up leather, that diverted the eye to her red curls. She held onto Wren as they walked.

"You look beautiful," Wren whispered to her.

Scarlett furrowed her brow. Wren hadn't seen her smile since the Settlement. "I did what I could."

"Well, whatever you did is more than enough."

"Mmm..." Scarlett turned away, looking at the people around them instead. Conversation over.

Titus, meanwhile, was nowhere to be found. Wren had expected as much—he didn't like crowds, or the Paragon, or mages, of course, although Wren hoped that might change considering her new circumstances. She knew he wouldn't be far if they needed him.

The sun was setting, moving from orange to purple as it dipped below the horizon. It seemed everyone had come to Kinvarra to pay their respects at the memorial.

The streets were full, but no merchants were clamouring for people's attention. There were no shouts of merriment, no colourful banners held high. All wore dark colours—shades of grey, navy, and black. Wren caught sight of reporters scribbling notes in the crowd, but no obnoxious flashes went off for photographs.

Boats of all kinds collected in the harbour, and the sky above was packed with resting ships, their balloons draped in black. People looked out from top decks, while others hung from the webbing below, their feet dangling in the open air. Wren looked up wistfully, wishing she could be among them, and away from all the clamour on the ground.

The crew stuck together as they joined the stream of people heading for the docks, where the memorial service was taking place. Jutting out of the water was a tall, mysterious shape shrouded in a black cloth. It stood at least three storeys tall, unmoved by the crashing waves.

The Paragon had arranged seating on the three largest docks. The pier to the right held the Paragon soldiers who had fought alongside the crew to reclaim the Settlement. Wren didn't quite know how to feel about them: they had put their lives on the line, sure, but they were just following orders. Did one decent act cancel out years of barbarity on the Paragon's behalf? She wasn't convinced.

The left-most pier was heavily guarded, as it contained the VIPs of the evening, Tae among them. Abigail clutched her hand instinctively to her chest and pointedly avoided looking in their direction. The doctors back at the hospital had done what they could for her, moving the mangled fingers back into position as best they could. Two of them refused to move, but she could flutter the other three slightly. The doctors said it was unlikely she'd regain anything close to resembling the nimble control she'd had before...but Wren had only set her jaw, determined to get better results using magic. And, if she couldn't manage it, certainly one of the other mages could.

The main pier, where the crew was headed, contained the eighty-nine survivors and the mages. The survivors moved slowly, their eyes wide as they took everything in: the crowded streets of Kinvarra, the unfamiliar but kind faces of onlookers, and the broad expanse of the ocean beyond the docks.

It must feel like coming out of a long dream. Or like coming back from the dead.

Wren spotted a small child, not yet four years old. She was the youngest person to be rescued from the Settlement, and only one of three to be born during the eight years. The child's black hair was braided, and she clutched her father's hand. Even in the dim evening light she had to squint, her sensitive eyes used to the darkness of the Settlement outpost. Her mother was nowhere to be seen.

All of the survivors were still rail thin, but despite everything, they didn't look sad. They moved with dignity. They'd faced unimaginable horrors and yet here they were, still standing. They held each other up, taking strength from one another.

Wren tried to spot Jonah, but only caught sight of the Lady Sofia's white-blonde hair and slight frame in the front row. Nathaniel was at her side in a black cloak—a stark contrast to his pale complexion.

The other mages stood beside him, their shades hovering at their sides. Millicent was hunched over, her eyes on the ground. Standing tall beside her was the mysterious Nia—Wren hadn't got much of a read on her, yet, but she was sure she would get to know all of them, whether she wanted to or not.

Scarlett lifted an eyebrow. "I don't think Kipling brought enough accessories..."

Indeed, Kipling wore a crisp new suit, with a tight waistcoat, a gold watch chain, and a pair of white gloves. He looked like he was struggling to keep a smug grin off his face.

"Twat," said Abigail under her breath.

"More like a flaming coward," Wren said, her eyes narrowing. The image of the mages's ship flying away, leaving Millicent and Seth to the moraiths, was burned into her mind.

"Is that Orix?" Godfrey gasped, pointing.

Wren had to do a double take. Orix was clean-shaven, his bushy beard long gone. His long, straggly hair had been cut away and styled into an elegant cut. Gone, too, were his dirty moth-eaten robes, replaced by clean, tailor-fit black clothing. He wore a long, forest green cloak, clasped at the front with a golden brooch.

What was most noticeable, however, was his change of demeanour. As she watched, he threw his head back and laughed, and it took years off his face.

"I thought he was at least forty!" said Teddy, mystified.

A bird landed on Orix's shoulder and tried to burrow into his ear.

Wren grinned. "Still the same Orix, though."

"I think that's Abraham beside him..." said Scarlett. Orix only had eyes for one person: the handsome man with skillfully dishevelled hair, leaning heavily on a carved wooden cane.

Godfrey looked around. "Where's his shade?"

Teddy flailed. "Gah!" Abraham's shade floated beside them.

"Found it," said Abigail.

"Go! Shoo, get out of here! Go back to Abraham!" Wren said, waving a hand at it, but it didn't budge.

She'd assumed that the rogue shade would return to Abraham once they were reunited but that didn't seem to be the case.

"I think Orix wants you to go to the front," said Scarlett. The shade had given away their position, and now Orix was waving them over.

Wren pulled her cloak—and shade shawl—closer to her. "I'm good," she grumbled.

Abraham's shade moved closer to her, but her own lunged out at it. Admonished, the wayward shade darted away above the crowd.

Althea appeared in front of them. "Hello."

"Constance!" Godfrey squeaked. "I mean, Althea! W-wow, uhh, h-hi, I mean, you look...wow."

She wore a high-collared ink-black dress and smiled shyly. "Thank you. It isn't something I'd normally select, but my mother insisted."

"Can't argue with mom," Wren agreed.

Althea gestured to the front row. "If you would follow me..."

She went to lead the way but paused when she saw how they hung back. She blinked, confused. "Is something wrong?"

When they didn't answer, she said, "If it's a matter of security, I can assure you that none of the soldiers will touch you."

"No, it's just..." Teddy started, hesitant. "Those seats are reserved for the survivors, and important people."

"Like yourself," Godfrey added.

Althea's expression softened in realization. "Each and every one of you risked your lives to save the people on the Settlement and asked for nothing in return. There is no one more worthy of those seats. It would be our privilege to stand beside you."

Godfrey broke into a smile. "Okay!" He bowed low and extended a hand to Althea. "My lady?"

"Oh, er, all right..."

Althea took his arm and together, they led the way to the front.

"I guess that's decided, then," Wren said.

"Perk up," said Scarlett, "the view will be better up there."

It was. Althea showed the crew to a row of seats in the front row. Days ago, they were just a gang of pirates with a target on their backs, orchestrating an elaborate heist to get their hands on a bag of medicine...and now they were the guests of honour at the biggest event in all of Meraki. Wren looked over at the others—they looked just as wide-eyed and bewildered as she felt...except for Godfrey, who was chatting amicably with Althea.

She closed her eyes, and felt the warm sun against her eyelids, the breeze coming off the ocean cool and refreshing. She breathed in deep, taking in the fresh, salty scent. Many things were different now, it was true, but she was still the same, and she still had the crew.

Kipling escorted the Lady Sofia up to the podium, and the crowd fell silent. When she began to speak, her voice was amplified by his magic. It echoed to the furthest stretches of the crowd.

"Good people of Meraki," she began, her voice steady and strong. "We are gathered here today to pay our respects to all of the lives we lost in the Settlement. To those who fought valiantly on that terrible night eight years ago. To those who carried others to safety but perished from their injuries. To those who passed on in our years on the mainland. To those here in Meraki, whose hearts were broken by such tremendous loss. To the brave soldiers who ventured once again through the fog and drew their last breaths in an unfamiliar place—we owe you a tremendous debt.

"And to every soul we lost...we will not forget you. We hope you find peace in your journey beyond the veil.

"To all of our fallen, and the people they left behind, we offer this humble monument."

The cloak was pulled off the shape, revealing a tall obelisk, its polished stone skin glinting in the moonlight. A wave of whispers rippled through the crowd.

"The name of every lost soul is engraved on this obelisk. It will remain here on the docks of Kinvarra, standing strong against every storm that batters our shore: a reminder of our people's resilience, their courage, and their tremendous sacrifice."

She paused.

"At this time, I wish to speak of one person in particular. All of us from the Settlement know him well, and defer to his wise judgement. That person, of course, is Mage Abraham."

Abraham looked up, taken aback.

Lady Sofia continued. "Mage Abraham is the reason there are any survivors at all. I myself stand before you now, only because of his brave actions.

"For our protection, Abraham moved us into the tunnels far beneath the outpost. For our hunger, he ensured that every seed we planted bore fruit. For our thirst, he pulled water from deep within the earth. For the chill that crept into our bones, he created fires and kept them stoked with his magic.

"But beyond these practical things, Abraham encouraged us to unite and persevere, and he led by example. He was our strength when we were overwhelmed. Our hope when we struggled to lift our heads. Our light when all seemed dark. He accomplished what we all thought was impossible...he separated from his shade and sent it through the fog as a call for help. And help we received."

She cleared her throat, looking out to the people of Meraki.

"I understand that mages have not been welcome in Meraki for eight years...but that stops now."

There was a rush of whispers, but Lady Sofia's voice was louder than them all.

"Meraki is a united nation. We stand together. Are we not stronger when we work as one? Are we not better when none of us is made to feel the victim? When none of us is forced to stand alone?"

She gestured to the obelisk.

"Let this obelisk be a tribute to those who are not here any longer, but who, like Mage Abraham, held us together. Let us remember them, always."

Beside Lady Sofia, Kipling turned to face the obelisk.

Orix, Nia, Millicent, and Nathaniel stood and raised their arms. The stone began to glisten. The names at the base were the first to flare to life. The light moved up the sides of the obelisk, lighting up each inscribed name as it went. Soon, the entire obelisk was a beacon of light. It stood tall in the sea, illuminating the night.

One of the survivors stood. "Evangeline Massey!" she called out.

Another stood. "Levi Brown!"

"Katherine Hawkes!"

"Bennet Stone!"

People stood and shouted names at the top of their lungs. They cried them through tears. They sang them with courage.

Godfrey was on his feet beside Wren. "Jacob Yorke! Gertrude Lewis!" he shouted.

"Isaac Barclay! Sarah Kipps!" Abigail hollered.

"Grace Mittag! Judith Mittag!" Teddy roared.

"Agnes Beggley! Eugene Marks!" Scarlett cried.

Despite herself, Wren felt a lump forming in her throat. She looked around and finally caught sight of Jonah. He had his arms around his fellow survivors, both being held up by them and holding them up.

An aching pain ripped through Wren's heart. She wished she was standing beside her brother so they could say their parents' names together. It was strange to realize that his fellow survivors were more family to him now than she was.

The roar of names came from all around them, so loud and strong she could feel it in the ground beneath her feet.

Someone nudged her shoulder. "Say their names!" Godfrey yelled into her ear.

She shook her head no.

He nodded yes.

No. More emphatic this time. Leave me alone!

He threw his head back. "Helena Cutforth! Cyril Cutforth!" he turned to look at her expectantly.

Suddenly, she felt very stupid. Not only did she still have a biological brother, but a chosen one in Frey. In fact, she had an entire family of her own. They weren't bonded by blood, no, but by choice—and perhaps that was better. Perhaps that was what made it even stronger.

She took a deep breath and shouted, as loudly as she could: "Helena Cutforth! Cyril Cutforth!"

For her brother, Godfrey: "Jacob Yorke! Gertrude Lewis!"

And her brother, Teddy: "Grace Mittag! Judith Mittag!"

And her sister, Abigail: "Isaac Barclay! Sarah Kipps!"

And her definitely-not-sister Scarlett: "Agnes Beggley! Eugene Marks!"

The energy around them was overwhelming. Wren could hardly breathe with the force of it all. She pressed her eyes closed, tried to take it all in. She wanted to remember everything, just the way it was right now.

Lady Sofia's voice rang out from the podium. "People of Meraki! Let us be divided no more! Let us discover how strong we can be when we stand together!"