I look at her, trying to sound more positive than I feel when I say, “Honestly? I have no idea if he’ll show, but I’m hopeful.”

Ava waves at me from across the room, beckoning me to join her in the den, where she’s dressed as John Lennon, standing next to Rayne, who’s dressed in the pillbox hat, pristine white gloves, perfect little suit, and flippy hairdo of Jackie O, while Romy is dressed as Jimi Hendrix, complete with an electric guitar strapped to her chest. Which is totally the opposite of what I would’ve thought, but then, even after all this time I’ve never really been able to get a good handle on them.

And I’m just about to thank them for doing such a great job, and for all the help they’ve provided this last year, when someone sneaks up from behind me and says, “And so it is done.”

I turn, instantly recognizing the voice.

She looks older. So delicate and frail I can’t help but worry for her health. The cane I once saw her with is now back. Though it’s not long before I realize why—it’s the first time I’ve seen her on the earth plane. And after spending so much time in Summerland, the gravity here starts to weigh pretty heavily.

“From the moment I first saw your glow, I knew.”

I look at her, noticing she’s the only one not in costume, and yet, in her cotton tunic and matching pants, most people probably assume that she is.

“But I don’t glow,” I say, my eyes still poring over her, realizing how odd she appears now that she’s here. How out of context she seems. “I don’t have an aura,” I add. “No immortals do.”

But she ignores that. “Auras are a reflection of the soul,” she says. “And yours is lovely. You have been made aware of its presence, caught a glimpse of it, no?”

I gaze down at my hands, remember the way I saw them glow a gorgeous shade of purple back when I was in Summerland, back when I was still on my journey. I remember the way I’d felt the color thrumming from somewhere deep inside—the intensity of feeling convincing me of just how to proceed. Then I remember how Drina saw it too, how she’d commented on it just after I’d freed her soul from the Shadowland, and now Lotus sees it as well. Which makes me wonder if it might actually be real, and if it’ll still be with me even after I’ve tasted the fruit?

Which of course gets me thinking about Damen, wondering if he’ll agree to taste the fruit with me.

“He needs time,” Lotus says, tuning in to my thoughts. “Unlike me. I have waited too long.”

I nod, offering my hand as I lead her up the stairs, but she just shakes her head and relies on her cane.

Figuring I’ll give it to her first, serve her privately before I gather the others, I’m surprised when she tunes in to my thoughts once again, saying, “You will find them already gathered. They are waiting for you.”

True enough, when we enter the den off my room we’re greeted by a startling collection of the eternally young and beautiful. The eternally young and beautiful with the best collection of costumes I’ve ever seen. Some of them choosing to interpret the theme literally by dressing as actual people, and some choosing to interpret it figuratively by dressing as objects like flowers and trees—there’s even a shooting star standing off in the corner. And, I guess if it’s true that everything is energy, if it’s true that we’re all connected, then there’s really nothing that divides us from nature—we are all a part of the whole.

They turn to face me, over fifty people whom Roman deemed worthy, making for approximately three people every century—a much small er group than I would’ve imagined, but still a much bigger group than I’d hoped.

And honestly, when I really start to take them all in, I mean each and every one, I start to feel a little ridiculous about what I’m about to propose.

I mean, these people have traveled far and wide for the sole purpose of maintaining the very life they’ve grown used to. These people are so advanced in every conceivable way, so well traveled, so experienced, so worldly—well, they’re intimidating to say the least. And I can’t help but wonder why they would even think to listen to me—a seventeen-year-old girl whose biggest worldly accomplishment so far (other than locating the tree) is having barely gotten through high school.

Why should they even think to consider giving up everything they’ve known and loved for so many years for some unknown, completely esoteric idea, which I can easily explain but have no way to prove?

But then I look at Lotus, see the way she nods encouragingly, those rheumy old eyes cheering me on, and it prompts me to gulp down my fears, addressing them all when I say, “I know you’re expecting to see Roman, but Roman’s no longer here, and so you get me. And while I’m sure I can’t even come close to competing with him, now that you’re here, I hope you’ll at least consider hearing me out.”

This is met by mumbling. Lots and lots of mumbling. With a good amount of grumbling thrown in as well. The roar growing so loud I’ve no choice but to shove two fingers into my mouth and let off a long loud whistle to quiet them down.

“When I said that Roman is no longer with us—I meant it in the physical way. His body has perished, though his soul still lives on. And I happen to know this because I’ve seen it. I’ve communicated with him. The soul never dies. He’s truly immortal now.” I pause, expecting more outbursts and surprised by the quiet that greets me instead.