When I returned home, Mam sat in her chair beside the fireplace, head propped up on a fist and eyes closed. Tear tracks trailed down her cheeks. She looked young—like a child who'd lost her way—but she also looked old and weary. She looked as though the weight of the world rested on her shoulders, and she'd begun to grow tired, dropping slowly to the ground until that heaviness crushed her completely.

A floorboard creaked beneath my foot, and Mam jolted upright. She stared at me for a moment. Her eyes were wide and disbelieving.

"Fyra?" she said. "You came back."

She'd stood up in an instant, crossing the room in a few quick strides, pulling me into her arms. A sob tore through her.

I stood there awkwardly for a moment, but when it was clear she wasn't going to let me go, I wrapped my own arms around her and squeezed back. We stood there for a few minutes, in silence but for Mam's occasional sobs.

When we pulled apart, she sighed and hiccuped. "I'm sorry, Fyra. I- I was too harsh on you."

I stared at her. I had expected many things from Mam—punishments, speeches, anger—but an apology had not been one of them. I didn't know what to do with it.

"I'm sorry," Mam repeated. "Can you forgive me, Fyra?"

No.

Yes.

The two answers fought a battle inside me, warring against each other even more fiercely than they had when I'd tried to forgive Bran.

Did Mam deserve my forgiveness? I didn't know. I thought not. If I hadn't been tough-skinned from the sly insults of the villagers, I certainly was now that I knew my own mam was against me. She'd hurt me with her words. Perhaps she hadn't realized they were going to cut so deep, but even so, she'd said them all the same.

Yet, at heart, she was no different from this town—no different from the villages and cities everywhere that treated Blesseds badly out of fear or hate. They didn't know any better. How could they? They'd been hoodwinked. Everyone had always said Blesseds were people with terrible, evil magic, so why would they believe any different? Why would they question the laws that were said to keep them safe?

The only solution was to show them the truth. The only solution was to show Mam the truth. She'd understand. She'd have to.

At least, I hoped she would.

"I forgive you," I said. "But I'm leaving."

Mam stared at me. "What?"

"I'm leaving. The Calamity—a ship of Blesseds we met while we were on the quest—is coming to pick us up, along with a few other Blesseds who the Head Man hasn't discovered." I hesitated. "I- I wondered: do you want to come? They've mostly got Blesseds up there, but I don't think they would mind if some Blessed's family joined."

"I can't leave the village." Mam glanced around as though someone was listening, and she lowered her voice. "You can't leave the village, Fyra. They'll catch you."

"No, they won't."

"Do you know when they're going to be coming?"

"Not yet," I admitted. "They'll tell us when they arrive, and we'll go from there."

"Can you get them to not come at all?"

I frowned. "No. I can't see why we'd want to. We need to get Reed out of here as soon as possible, before the Head Man executes him."

A sigh burst from Mam's lips. "Fyra, you can't do this. You're going to be putting all the people on that ship in danger. You're going to be putting us in danger. All of those Blesseds in one place..."

"They're powerful," I said, "and they're smart, Mam. They've known about their powers for a long time. They know how to use them. They can get us up to their ship and be gone in no time."

"You-" Mam frowned, tilting her head to one side. "You keep saying ship. What do you mean? Is it going to come up the river?"

I shook my head. "No. It's made of clouds. It'll be above us—in the sky."

"And it's safe up there? How do people stand on it if it's just made of clouds?"

"The captains—there are two of them—take turns being awake, so that they can keep it solid at all times."

"They're the ones who keep the ship going?"

"Yup. Without them, everyone on it would die."

"So obviously you'd probably rather avoid anyone harming either of them." Mam was nodding. "That makes sense."

"So?" I asked. "Will you come with us?"

"I... I don't know, Fyra. I don't know that it's a good idea." She set her hands on my shoulders and looked deeply into my eyes. "Are you sure you want to go? Is there no way I can convince you to stay?"

"No."

"And there's no way I can convince you to wait?"

"Also no. There's an execution coming up, remember?"

Mam nodded. She seemed to be thinking deeply, brow creased, eyes full of thought and uncertainty.

After a moment, she sighed. "I'll come with you."

"You will?"

"I will." She sat down at our table and pulled out a chair so I could sit beside her. "When you know the day they plan to bring you all up, tell me."

"Why?"

"So I can prepare. There are some things I don't want to leave behind here—some things I'll need when we start our new life up there." She reached out and cupped my cheek in her hand. "Thank you for telling me, Fyra. I'm glad you trusted me. I can't-" Her voice broke, and I saw the tears that brimmed in her eyes once more. "I can't imagine what I would have done if I'd woken up one day to find you gone."

"Maybe we can return someday," I said. "Someday when the village is less hateful. When Blesseds might actually be welcome."

"Maybe," she said, but she didn't sound at all hopeful. "Is there anything I need to do now? To be prepared?"

I shook my head. "Just wait, and be ready."

My stone deathbird returned three days later with news: the Calamity floated somewhere above us in the sky. They were ready to get us out of here whenever necessary.

Bran was the one who ran to get me and tell me the good news.

"It's come back," he panted after I'd rushed to open the front door. "Your bird is back."

My eyes grew wide, and together, we sprinted to Lark's house. She and her mam were waiting inside, watching as the deathbird flew around the room energetically.

"This is the most I've ever seen it move," I said, holding out my hand so the stone creature could come perch on it.

Lark smiled. "Maybe it's because Sharla's so closeby."

"Maybe," I agreed. "So?"

"They're here," said Lark. "They're ready. All we need to do is tell them when to come."

"There are four days left before the execution," Bran said.

"So we do it sometime before that." Lark looked at me. "Fyra?"

"Tomorrow," I decided. "The closer we get to the execution, the more likely they are to add more security. They'll expect an attempt to rescue Bran. Or at least, I'd think they would. If not, we're still getting Reed out sooner than we would if we waited."

We sent the bird back with the message, and it returned half an hour later to say that the rescue squad would be sent down to help keep the new Blesseds calm while the mistlings carried them up.

That was that.

Almost.

"Oh," said Bran, grinning, "I almost forgot. I made contact with that kid."

"What kid?" I asked.

"The Blessed one. You know. The one who slipped you the note?"

"Ah, right."

"He's happy to come with us. He said he knows that one or two of his friends are Blessed, and they want to come with us too." Bran stood. "I should probably go tell him the good news, so he has time to pack anything he wants to bring."

I pulled myself to my feet. "I should probably go, too. I need to tell Mam to get her things packed."

They all gave a start.

"You told your mom?" Lark asked.

"Yeah," I said. "Look, she gets it. She's been through a lot. I think she's starting to realize how much this town has influenced her thoughts on Blesseds. She's beginning to understand that she doesn't need to fear us."

Bran shrugged. "Okay. Just don't expect us to talk to her."

"Bran," said Lark. She turned to me. "Of course we're going to talk to her. She's your mom. I'm sure we all forgive her for anything she's done in the past." She shot a warning glare at Bran. "What matters is that she's trying to do right now, and she's coming with us. She's on our side."

"Okay," I said, relieved. "Thank you for understanding."

Lark gave me a soft smile. "We'll almost always understand, Fyra, whether we agree with you or not. You're our friend."

"Yeah," said Bran. "We trust you."

What do you think, readers? Will it work out? Will they succeed? Or will the Head Man catch them and punish them all for their magic? Vote if you're excited to see what's next!