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And then she’s gone

Who will be waiting for e to Cae it formy papers? I don’t know I can’t trust her anymore I pull off the red bracelet that marked me as one of the Archivists’ traders and put it on the shelf I have no need of it, because it does notalone on its shelf When I open it and see the contents inside, I find I want none of them They are part of other people’s lives, and it feels that they no longer have place in ave ht have stolen fro This poem is true I can tell

We step like plush, we stand like snow--

I stop at that line and re, in the snow looking out for Ky And I ree of the stream--

The waters murmur now,

Three rivers and the hill are passed,

Two deserts and the sea!

Now Death usurps ets the look at Thee

No

That can’t be right I read the last two lines again

Now Death usurps ets the look at Thee

I switch off ht and tell myself that the poem doesn’t matter after all Words mean what you want them to mean Don’t I know that by now?

For athe warren of shelves and rooather food and paper, and isn’t that enough to live on? I could write stories; I could hide froe it or live in it I could write paper people and I would love them too; I could make them almost real

In a story, you can turn to the front and begin again and everyone lives once more

That doesn’t work in real life And I love my real people the most Bram My mother My father Ky Xander

Can I trust anyone?

Yes My family, of course

Ky

Xander

None of us would ever betray the other

Before I came here, Indie and I ran a river, and we didn’t know if it would poison us or deliver us to where anted to go We took a dangerous, black-water risk; even now, I think I can feel the spray as ent down, the swell as ere swept under

It orth it then

I re It and the Archives ether in my mind--those muddy fossiled bones and clean little tubes, these empty shelves and vacant rooms And I realize that I can never stay in these hollowed-out places in the earth for long before I have to coe to Ca to run You cannot change your journey if you are unwilling to move at all

I hide in alleys, behind trees When I wrap reenspace, I feel fresh letters carved into it, and they don’t spell my name The tree is sticky with its own blood It makes me sad Ky never cut deeply like this when he carved on so I wipe my hand on my black plainclothes and wish there were a way to leave a

I’m not even halfway to the lake when I hear and see the air ships

They soar in overhead, carrying pieces of the barricade back toward the City

No, I think, not the Gallery

I run through the streets, darting away fro not to count how many times the ships conize the voice, so I keep going It’s too dangerous to stop There’s a reason we are supposed to stay inside--people are angry, and afraid, and the Rising is finding it increasingly difficult to cure and keep peace

I run out into the dark of theofficers in black climb up to secure cables to the barricade walls while the ships hover over, their blades chopping through the air I can just hts of the ships above and from the steadier beacons of those that have landed in the marsh

The Gallery is still there, ahead of ainst a wall, breathing hard I’ closer The lake smell of water hits me

One of the Gallery walls lifts into the sky and I stifle a cry So one All those papers, everything we made, and hoill I ever find the person as supposed to take er exists?

I a to find Ky