“Well,” Kano said, standing in front of the reactor, “here it is. What’re you going to do about it?”

Cupping her chin in her hand, An looked it over, her eyes following the tiny particles as they swirled around in unison. “I think I might have an idea. Give me a few minutes to think about it.”

With nothing to do but wait, Kano passed the time by counting whatever all those things were in the reactor. Her count was close to four digits when An finally broke the silence.

“I’m not sure how exactly we’re going to accomplish it yet, but I believe I’ve devised a way to stop the reactor. If we can carefully siphon off the energy surrounding a small group of whatever these little things are that are generating the energy. Catalysts, I suppose?” She looked askance at Kano, who just shrugged.

“So it’s as simple as that?”

“Simple, yes. Though I think it will prove quite difficult to execute. We’re talking about redirecting quite vast quantities of energy after all, and with great precision at that.”

“I think I can handle the redirection.” She’d happily have given the job over to someone else, given that it was bound to be extremely difficult, if only there were anyone else who could do it. “But where am I supposed to redirect it to?” The citadel was already at capacity, and letting it float around unbound was sure to result in disaster.

“I haven’t quite figured that part out yet.”

“Can’t you just use it for something?”

An shook her head. “Even if I had a suitable project, the sheer amount is far beyond what I could handle on my own.”

Then if this was going to work, they needed something else that could make use of a lot of necromantic energy. “Wait here. I think I know what we can do with it.”

Guessing that it was the first place they’d think of, Kano headed through the citadel to the room where the children were staying and found everyone waiting there.

“Oh, good,” Nove said, “you’re back. You took care of that necromancer?”

“Yeah,” Kano replied, looking past her at the children. Other than looking over, they’d done nothing to acknowledge her return. “What’s with them?”

“They’ve been a bit down and out of sorts since returning to their former selves.”

Understandable. The sudden change must’ve come as quite a shock after all. “Anything that I should worry about?”

“I’m not really sure. I think they’re still adjusting. They’ll probably be fine, though, they’re tough like that.”

Reassuring as Nove’s baseless optimism was, Kano would prefer to hear how the children were coping directly from them. She moved through the crowd and sought out Forty. Or at least, she tried to. They still all looked much the same to her, and in the end, she resorted to asking one of the children to point Forty out to her. After they did, she tried to commit the ghoul’s face to memory, but they all so similar that she wasn’t sure if she succeeded.

“How are the others?” Kano asked. Forty seemed like she’d be more willing to talk about the rest of the children rather than herself.

“They’ll be fine.” Forty spoke quietly, not meeting Kano’s gaze.

“That’s not what I asked. How are they now?”

Forty looked like she wanted to say something but seemed to think better of it and stood there fidgeting. Why didn’t she want to talk about it? Was it because the other children were here?

“Come with me,” Kano said, and without waiting for Forty’s reply, she scooped up the little ghoul in her arms and carried her from the room. There was no point wasting time trying to pull her through the mass of bodies, and Forty didn’t resist, just allowed herself to be carried as she looked at Kano with wide eyes.

Once they were away from everyone else, Kano set her down but with one hand clasping her shoulder. She wasn’t sure why, was it to prevent her from escaping? It just felt right. Kneeling down so that she was level with the ghoul, Kano said, “I understand that you might not want to talk about it, but I need to know if the others are okay.” Not that she had any real idea as to why Forty wouldn’t want to talk about it.

“Things have been strange since we… you know.” She made a circular gesture as she tried to find the right word. “Separated. Everything just feels harder now, even thinking. And, well, I think they just feel a bit alone now.”

“Even though you’re all still together?”

Forty shrugged. “It’s not really the same.”

Though Kano felt bad that they were clearly suffering, the situation also struck her as something of a perfect opportunity. “Then they’d like to go back to being together? To being One?”

Forty froze, shrinking back from Kano. “I don’t know. I can’t speak for them about something that important.”

“What about you, then? What do you want?”

“I…” Forty stared off into the distance. “I want to stay myself. When I was together with everyone, it was nice, and I felt at peace, but it was also like I didn’t really know what I was anymore. That probably doesn’t make any sense.”

“I think I get it.” Kano was a little disappointed at Forty’s reply. It seemed like she’d been wrong about this being an opportunity. “Would you be willing to do it again for a little while? For me? It’s really important. In fact, you might end up saving all of us.”

“What? Really?” Forty sounded like she’d never even considered such a thing was possible.

“Yep. We need help dealing with the reactor, and it looks like you children are the only ones who can do it.” They were definitely the most available option, at any rate. “So what do you say?”

“Um, can I think about it for a while? And I’ll need to talk to everyone else about it.”

Kano smiled, sure that Forty and the others would agree now. “Of course. Just make it quick. We’re already short on time.”

“I’ll try,” Forty said, and she went back to the room she shared with the other children.

Satisfied, Kano watched her go. She’d done all she could. Now all that was left was to wait for them to decide, and they could finally deal with the reactor. Not that she was looking forward to the hard work ahead, but it would be good to finally have it over and done with. She was pretty over impending doom at this point, and she was more than ready for something else.

Maybe something good would happen for once, or she could do something entertaining. She could even go on a trip. Shorinstown was feeling awfully small as of late. Though that might just be because of all the necromancers that had been running around in it lately—at least she’d already dealt with that. Well, except for An, who barely even seemed like a necromancer anymore to Kano.

She certainly didn’t have much in common with Werisah or Eomonsa, nor any of the others Kano had met. Except, maybe, for Karen? Could Kano’s creator also have been like that? Much as Kano would like to believe that, she was far from convinced. She just knew too little about Karen to make any sort of informed decision about her nature. And given that Karen was dead, it didn’t seem like she’d be able to, much to her dismay. The more she thought about it, the more it felt like a part of her was missing.

Unfortunately, there was nothing she could do about it now, and she had much more important things to worry about. Like getting the children to help with the reactor. Making her way back, she returned to find the children silent. Strange. She would have thought they’d still be discussing what she’d asked of them. Unless they’d already made a decision?

She waved Forty over. “How’d it go?”

“Um,” Forty said, glancing back at the others, “is it really important that we help?”

“That’s what I said, isn’t it? Do you doubt me?”

“No, no, of course not. I just wanted to make sure.”

“Then you’ll do it?”

The little ghoul scuffed her foot against the ground. “And we definitely have to become One again to do it?”

“Unless there’s some other way you can store and control a vast amount of energy. Is there?” Kano hadn’t even considered that they might be able to do it another way. That might be even better.

“I don’t know.”

“Then yes, you’ll have to become One again.”

“I see.”

“Does that mean you’ll do it?” She was getting tired of asking. Why did Forty insist on all these questions? Could they possibly be that reluctant to merge like that again? If so, maybe it was wrong of her to ask them to do it. She was ashamed she hadn’t realized how reluctant Forty was earlier, but she’d had bigger things on her mind. And that was the crux of the situation—the children would help or everyone would die. There was no point worrying about it. All that was left was for everyone to carry out their roles as best they could, regardless of their wishes.

Forty paused for a long look back at the others, and Kano saw many of them nod at their representative. “We will.”

“Great,” Kano said, trying to sound cheerful. “Then let’s go meet An at the reactor.”

Walking at the head of the group, she led the children out. It was a pity they weren’t much in the mood for talking. She would’ve liked to have listened to them again. Instead she had mostly silence, which inevitably led to her dwelling on things that were best left unconsidered.

Like how this might be their last trip together.