“I make things, from nothing. I’m a Creator, like Quinn. We’re Creators together. Lifetimes and lifetimes together. I can make anything. Anything,” I say with wonder.

“A goddess,” Benson says, and his voice is so quiet I’m not sure I would have heard him if my ear weren’t pressed against his belly.

I feel a little giggle build up in my throat. “Like a tree,” I say through a hysterical laugh. “Or a mountain. Or a building. Just poof! Anything.”

“Like a pyramid,” Benson says, following my manic thoughts.

I nod. “I was an Earthmaker. There were lots of us. We created the landscape of the whole world. It was—it was ours. Gifted to us by … I don’t know. Someone bigger. Someone stronger. But we got greedy.” Wringing out specific memories is like trying to squeeze a brick of steel with my bare hands, and my body begins to tremble from the effort. “We created humans. To—to be our servants. We overstepped. We were cursed.”

“Cursed by who?”

I shake my head. “I don’t know.”

“You remember this?”

“No. But I remember Rebecca remembering it.” Quinn told her. “We failed our stewardship.” The words are part of a proclamation—a sentence—burned into my memories. “Our immortality was taken away. Kind of. We became mortal, but with our souls tied—bound—to the earth. We live again and again, among the beings we created. Searching, always searching.”

“Searching for what?”

“Our diligo,” I say, trying out the unfamiliar word on my tongue.

“What does that mean?”

“Lover,” I say, not meeting his eyes. “Bound to earth, bound together,” I whisper. “Reus ut terra, reus una.”

Quinn.

But …

No.

“The Reduciata try to kill the Earthbounds before they can reunite with their lovers.”

“That’s why they’re trying to kill you?” Benson murmurs.

But I shake my head. “It’s more than that with me. I … I know something. A secret. A secret that could destroy everything.”

“What secret?” Benson asks, breathing in short gasps now.

But I just shake my head. “I don’t remember. Something, something I didn’t even tell Quinn because it was too dangerous. That’s what the men who came to our house were trying to get rid of. That knowledge. Something … something about the Reduciata and the Curatoria. Arg!” I growl. “It hurts to even think about it.” I force a deep breath into my lungs and bury my face in Benson’s shirt.

“Those names have Latin roots,” Benson says, and I look up at him, confused. “What?” he asks sheepishly. “I looked them up on my phone after I saw them in Quinn’s journal. Curator means ‘to keep and preserve.’ Reduco means ‘to—”

“‘Reduce,’” I interrupt with bitterness. “‘To kill.’”

“No,” Benson says softly. “It means ‘to lead.’”

I’m silent, trying to affix meaning to this new information, but my brain is too tired.

“I guess that’s why their symbol is that ankh thing. The ankh for eternity and shepherd’s crook for leading.”

“What about the other?”

“Other?”

It hurts so much to think. “The feather and flame.”

Benson chews on his lip and looks up at the sky for a few seconds. “Maybe a phoenix? You know, they die and are born again, like Earthbound.”

“And stronger every time,” I say, unsure whose words they are. “If the Curatoria does their job, the Earthbound get stronger.”

I don’t even know what that means, but the effort pulls me into silence again.

“Can you sit up?” Benson asks after a while.

“Maybe.”

He helps me up and lets me lean against him. My muscles ache and I’m hungry again. I stiffen as I realize every time I do anything that has to do with being an Earthbound, I get hungry. “I’m hungry. All the time,” I say in a flat voice.

“What?” Benson asks.

“Ever since the crash, I’m hungry all the time. But especially since I started using my powers.” I look up at Benson. “And Reese and Jay, they’re always trying to get me to eat more. Even Elizabeth told me I had to get over my guilt and eat. They all knew—my Earthbound body needs to eat more.”

“I guess it makes sense,” Benson says slowly. “You make something out of nothing and I suspect your brain works on overdrive. That kind of thing needs fuel.”

“But it was only after the crash. I’ve always been an Earthbound; you don’t become an Earthbound. Everything started happening after the crash. What was it about the crash that made this part of me … wake up?”

Benson sighs. “I have no clue, Tave. I’m discovering just how little I really know about anything,” he mutters.

Is he mad? Or just confused and frustrated, like me?

I can’t think anymore.

“We should go,” I say. “I need food and we have to get away.”

“I think you need a few more minutes,” Benson says, steadying me as I wobble to my feet.

“We may not have a few minutes. Someone’s got to know about this place.” My words are slurring and I take a deep breath and concentrate harder. “Don’t underestimate the brotherhoods. It’ll kill you.”