An interior view of the Graviary, with Shoshana's headstone illuminated by blue light from the pools below. Fireflies dance amongst the columns and greenery, and stars twinkle through the windows overhead.

Halea (thinking): Be that as it may, you have only a few moments to conjure an excuse for your absence.

??? (thinking): Don't need to conjure a thing. Phaedra hated me. And Gramps is still lost at sea.

Halea (thinking): Amos was there in spite of similar circumstances. What makes YOU so different?

??? (thinking): Ha. Amos doesn't have a HEART anymore. Some of us still do.

Nearby, a young man in a yellow shirt and a brown gardening apron kneels to clip a dead bird-of-paradise flower. He has dark hair that fades into a chinstrap beard, and a small ponytail. The flower has turned grey and brittle from the stem up, and his small shears prepare to strike.

??? (thinking): Let her ask her questions. I don't care. I won't be doing this for much longer.