Lio served the fufu in a steaming bowl of soup. The three of them sat around the table and used their fingers to separate pieces of the gelatinous fufu into clumps that would carry the soup to their mouths.
“It’s good, Mama.”
“Reminds me of home.” Jond smiled.
Sylah wasn’t sure which home he was referring to.
“Have you ever thought about the world beyond the Marion Sea?”
The question opened a gulf between them.
Lio put her hand down. “The Marion Sea? There’s nothing there. The Ending Fire destroyed it all.”
Jond frowned. “Yeah. Nothing. Just water and more water. And apparently some monsters.” He laughed, and Lio joined in.
“Maybe.”
Lio snorted. “Maybe? Don’t you think we’d know by now if there was more land out there?”
It was a good point.
“And what of the tidewind?” Jond added. “If there was more land, no one would be able to get to it without dying during the winds.”
Again, another good point.
“And”—another addition from Lio—“if the Ending Fire was a pile of dung—because who can trust the word of an Ember—why does it matter? There’s no one out there. If there was, they would have found us.”
“We’re on our own,” Jond said through a mouthful of fufu.
Sylah looked around the table at the last survivors of the Sandstorm she had known.
We’re on our own.