“You told me, John, that it would be up to me what happens to him. After, you said. But I do not want that responsibility. I don’t want to keep carrying this around—him, the war, all of it. It is too much to bear alone.”

I put my arms around Marina. She’s cold to the touch, so I turn on my Lumen, counteracting her chill. She cries, one hard sob, and then claps a hand over her mouth. She steels herself, knowing that Five will probably hear.

“Let’s get out of here,” I say, producing the last of my pendants. “Let me take you someplace where we can figure out what’s next. Together.”

Marina hesitates, staring at Five. “What about him?”

“He’s a ghost,” I reply. “We aren’t.”

Marina comes back to the Himalayas with me. When she sees what I’ve done with the cave, with Eight’s cave, she runs her hands across the places where the prophecies used to be etched, feeling the smoothness of new stone, the possibility of a blank canvas. She lets herself cry at last.

After that, Marina stands right in front of me. She reaches out and takes my face in her hands. “Thank you, John,” she says quietly. The tears haven’t dried on her cheeks. I brush a streak away.

She kisses me. I don’t know what it means.

Maybe nothing.

Marina blushes, smiles at me and slowly pulls away. I smile back. This Himalayan cave is suddenly a lot warmer.

Maybe something.

In the center of the cavern, I pull back the tarp to show Marina what I’ve spent the last year working on. Carved from trees I cut down off the mountainside, it’s a table that uses the Loralite stone as a base. It is huge and circular and modeled off my memories of the table in the center of the Elders’ Chamber on Lorien. Like the pendants, I’ve used my Lumen to burn the Loric symbol for Unity into the wood.

Eventually, the others will come. Some of them only for a visit, some of them for a longer stay. One day, I hope, this will become a place where great ideas are exchanged. A place kept safe from the corruption and pettiness of governments. Where the safety of Earth and the happiness of its people are assured.

There are threats still facing this planet—ones that need a united front of Loric, humans and even Mogs. We will gather here to solve those problems—us, the Garde, our old allies and ones we haven’t even met yet.

In the meantime, we have more than enough things to figure out, together and apart. Finding our places in this new world, making amends with those we’ve hurt, living up to our potential—these are the truly scary things.

There is one difference between the table I built here and the table used by the Elders. I didn’t carve nine specific spaces in the wood. There’s no spot for Loridas, or Setrákus or Pittacus. There aren’t even nine chairs. There’s as many as we need there to be, more than enough room. And if it gets too crowded, we can squeeze.

I’m done with numbers.