Looking at her, I think there’s still something a little otherworldly about Ella. The crazy spark that used to be in her eyes has faded, although right now, bathed in the cobalt-blue light of this cavern, I see some of Lorien lingering in her pupils. Maybe she saw me and my project in one of her visions and decided to come help.

I don’t mind the company.

Ella’s grown up a lot over the past twelve months, entered those real gawky teenage years that I don’t miss one bit. Her face is suntanned from being outside, her hair braided like one of the locals. She goes to school in the little village down the mountain, and the seven other kids in her class pretend like she’s not different at all.

She sits cross-legged on the massive table I’ve installed in the center of this cavern—my project—picking at a thread on the tarp I’ve got covering it.

“So, the walls are clean,” Ella says.

“Yeah.”

“Now you’ve got no reason left to procrastinate.”

I look away from her. She’s been needling me on an almost daily basis to go out and find the others. I always intended to—the work I’m doing up here, it’s not just for me. However, I think a part of me came to enjoy the solitude and the rooted feeling of the Himalayas. When was the last time I got to stay in one place without constantly looking over my shoulder?

Plus, I’m a little nervous about tracking everyone down. A lot can change in a year.

From behind her back, Ella pulls out the wooden cigar box where I’ve been storing the other pieces of my project. She holds it out to me.

“I took the liberty of getting this for you,” she says. “You can leave right away.”

I narrow my eyes at her. “I wish you wouldn’t go through my stuff.”

“Come on, John. We’re telepaths. You know boundaries are hard.”

I take the box from her. “You just want to see Nine again.”

Ella’s eyes widen. “Hey! Now who’s snooping?”

She’s right, though. It’s time. No more putting this off.

Outside the cave, there’s a little snow on the mountain. I jog down the rocky path, into the sunny day, feeling the weather warm up as I get lower. The air is crisp and clean, and I take a deep breath, wanting to savor it, or maybe wanting to stall. I stop just before I reach the small encampment that’s home to a rotating group of Vishnu Nationalist Eight soldiers. One of them spots me and waves. I wave back.

I take a deep breath. I’m going to miss my solitude.

Then I leap up in the air.

It’s been a while since I’ve flown. Even though I’m a little rusty, I’m still better at it now than I was a year ago. As I soar through clouds, feeling their chill moisture on my skin, I have to resist the urge to let out a cheer. It feels good to be out here; it feels good to be stretching my Legacies in a way that I haven’t in a while.

It feels good to be flying towards a situation that won’t be deadly.

Well, hopefully not anyway.

Of course, as soon as I have that thought, two giant paws strike me right between the shoulder blades and send me tumbling towards the earth.

I shout as I manage to right myself. As soon as I’m safely floating, the griffin makes another pass. I dodge through the clouds, avoiding its beak, its claws—laughing all the while.

“I’m sorry I didn’t say bye to you!” I yell at BK. “You were off sunning yourself somewhere, you lazy mutt!”

The Chimæra seems to accept my apology, because instead of coming in for another attack, he flies alongside me. I hook onto one of my old friend’s massive feathered wings and let him pull me forwards for a while, laughing and stroking his fur. Before we leave India’s airspace, BK shakes loose, gives me a friendly roar and turns back.

“I’ll be home soon, BK!” I shout into the wind.

I put my arms to my sides, keep my legs close together, chin pressed to my chest. It’s my most aerodynamic posture. I turn myself invisible and settle in, my mind emptying out just like when I was scrubbing those cavern walls. I guess I’ve become the kind of guy who meditates.

It’s going to be a long flight.

They’re building the Academy in a secluded patch of forest just across the bay from San Francisco. As I descend, I can see the Golden Gate Bridge and the city beyond. Below me, newly constructed dormitories and lecture halls rise up from the greenery, cranes and cement trucks parked nearby where the work isn’t yet finished. It’s like a quaint private school, if you ignore what hides beyond the forested perimeter: an electrified fence, barbed wire, heavily armed soldiers patrolling the Academy’s only exit road.