Ander’s eyes shone with a tenderness Eureka didn’t comprehend. His love was a language she had once known, but now it looked foreign, a sign in a station she didn’t understand.

“She’s awake?” William’s footsteps announced his arrival at her side.

Eureka sat up. She was in a moth-wing bower suspended in a vast purple cave. Her brother flung his arms around her neck. Claire was there a moment later. She let the twins hug her and she knew she was hugging back, but it didn’t feel like hugging. She saw it from another perspective, somewhere far away, as if she were sitting on the moon, watching the children embrace someone they loved.

“I told you she’d wake up,” William said.

“We’re witches now!” Claire said.

“You lost a lot of blood,” Ander said. “Esme found you on the mountain and brought you here. Her salve closed your wound.”

A translucent layer of amethyst lotion faded into Eureka’s torso. The wound beneath it was frightening.

“What time is it?” she asked.

“Late,” Ander said.

“The arrow broke two of your ribs.” Esme appeared behind Ander. “You are bruised, but you can fight.”

“Pain is power,” Eureka said. The twins gave her puzzled looks.

The cave where she’d awoken was a grander version of the witches’ lair in the Turkish mountains. The walls were a lovely glittering violet, lit by blazing amethyst fires. The furniture looked as though it had been lifted from an expensive boutique hotel. Witches dangled from purple swings suspended from the ceiling and danced around the fires smoking long twisted pipes.

“Where’s Cat?” Eureka asked.

Ander offered Eureka another ladle of the chocolate broth. “Cat stayed behind.”

“What?”

“The Celans are building arks for the survivors of the flood. She wanted to stay and help. She thought she could use her quirk and the gossipwitch ability to fly to store up food before they left. It’s the Waking World’s last hope.”

“So naive,” Eureka muttered. She imagined Cat in Turkey, bees swarming her head, using her loving quirk to hand out cherries and hazelnuts to the people boarding the arks. She hoped her friend would crack a dirty joke at the end of the world.

“What?” Ander leaned closer to her.

“How did the rest of you get here?”

“We took Ovid’s flume.” Ander seemed surprised to have to explain. “Like we were all supposed to do.”

Eureka shifted miserably. “But why?”

“To help you.” He took her hand. “Don’t worry about what happened when you left. We’re together now, that’s what matters. You got away from Brooks.”

“Atlas,” she said darkly. “Remember? There’s a difference?”

“You don’t have to push me away because you made a mistake.”

“I know that.” She groaned and flung back the fox-fur covering. “I have plenty of reasons to push you away.”

“Eureka!”

“Dad?” She spun toward his voice and saw Ovid, reclined on a low lounge chair, surrounded by three witches. Eureka was surprised to feel disappointed. She thought she was done with that sort of feeling. Ovid wore her father’s face for an instant before it cycled to feature Filiz’s grandmother.

“I have to talk to Solon,” Eureka said.

Ander helped Eureka from the bower. His assistance was infuriating, and she needed it. The witches snickered at her intensity as she hobbled toward the robot.

The robot twisted gruesomely. She saw her father again, then Seyma’s features sharpened and dissolved. Then came the glower of Albion, the head of the Seedbearers.

“You ruined everything!” he shouted as his features melted into those of his cousin Chora. Eureka wished she had Delphine’s jellyfish-tipped whip so she could get from the robot only what she wanted.

“Solon,” she said, taking the machine’s shoulders in her hands. “I need you. You said you were stronger than the rest of these ghosts.”

After a moment of vague, featureless struggle, the lost Seedbearer’s eyes, nose, and lips solidified on the silver plane of Ovid’s face. “The fugitive returns. Kill the fatted calf.” He frowned. “Has Atlas got Filiz?”

“Yes.”

“Tell me some good news.” The robot clapped its silver hands. “What have we learned from the outside?”

“Atlas tried to blackmail me into crying by hurting Filiz.”

The robot squinted. “How exactly was that supposed to work?”

“It wasn’t,” she said. “He thought I cared for her. He doesn’t know what love and devotion are.”

“Typical male?”

Solon was testing her.

“You asked me once what would happen if I allowed myself to feel joy,” Eureka said. “Now I know. Delphine’s feelings possess the same power as mine. I saw her weep with happiness”—she lowered her voice—“and her tear brought Brooks back to life.”

“Where’s Brooks?” Claire asked.

“It can’t be,” Ander said.

Ovid closed its eyes. Solon’s voice said, “I never knew if the rumor was true. Tearline joy is so rare. Out of curiosity, what was it that brightened that dark heart?”

Eureka’s cheeks flushed. “I called her ‘Mother.’ ”