The lanterns began at the edge of the lower districts.

  Magnolia saw them first as distant sparks: tiny points of amber strung between rooftops, swaying in the evening breeze. But as she and Yi walked deeper into the city, those sparks multiplied. Became rivers. Became oceans. Until everywhere she looked, the world was awash in gold.

  "It's beautiful," she breathed.

  Yi glanced down at her. The lantern-light caught in his eyes. "This is nothing. Wait until you see the hill."

  Skippy trotted ahead of them, tail working furiously at every new smell. The little dog seemed to understand that tonight was special.

  The streets were a crush of bodies. A father hoisted his kid onto his shoulders. Someone was burning chestnuts nearby—the smell cut through everything with a sweet and sharp scent. On the corner, a drunk with a fiddle was butchering a folk song while a knot of children clapped along, half a beat behind. Magnolia had never seen anything like it.

  In the Satellite, celebrations were furtive things. A shared bottle passed between friends. A moment of silence for the dead.

  But this…a whole city drunk on the fact of being alive.

  "You're crying."

  Magnolia blinked. Touched her cheek. Her fingers came away wet.

  "I didn't realize."

  Yi's hand found hers. Calloused palm, careful grip. He didn't say anything. Didn't need to. He just held her hand as they walked, his thumb moving against her skin.

  The crowds dropped away. The hill rose before them with its wild grass gone white in the moonlight, moving like something half-asleep.

  "Gets steep near the top," Yi said. "Ready?"

  "Ready."

  They climbed.

  The stone steps were bad, cracked, missing in places. Yi guided her around the worst of the gaps, caught her elbow when she stumbled. Skippy bounded ahead, somehow sure-footed despite those stubby legs.

  Halfway up, they stopped to rest on a flat outcropping. The city spread below them. From this height, the lanterns formed patterns: rivers of gold flowing through streets, pooling in squares, climbing towers like luminous ivy.

  "My sister used to carry me up this path," Yi said. He wasn't looking at her. "When I was small. She'd put me on her back and just... walk."

  "She sounds wonderful."

  "She was." A pause. "She still is, I hope. Wherever she ended up."

  The wind picked up. Magnolia shivered, and Yi was already shrugging off his coat, draping it over her shoulders before she could protest.

  "You'll be cold," she said.

  "I'll survive." He smiled. "Besides, we're almost there."

  They weren't.

  The final stretch required actual climbing. Magnolia made it ten feet before her foot slipped on moss—

  Yi caught her.

  His arms around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. For a moment, neither moved. She could feel his heartbeat through his shirt.

  "Careful," he said, close to her ear.

  "Sorry—"

  "Don't." He let her go. Slowly. "Actually. Here."

  He turned and crouched, presenting his back.

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  "Get on."

  Magnolia stared. "What?"

  "Like my sister used to carry me." He glanced over his shoulder, and something in his expression made him look younger. "Let me carry you. Just this last part."

  "I'm too heavy."

  "You're not."

  "I can walk."

  "I know." His voice dropped. "But you don't have to."

  You don't have to.

  When was the last time anyone had said that to her?

  She stepped forward. Arms around his neck. Legs around his waist. His hands caught beneath her thighs, adjusted her weight.

  He stood like it was nothing.

  "Okay?" he asked.

  Magnolia rested her chin on his shoulder. She could see the line of his jaw from here. The way his hair curled at the nape of his neck.

  "Okay."

  Yi began to climb.

  The ascent blurred. She felt the shift of his muscles with each step, the rhythm of his breathing, the heat of him through their clothes. Skippy scrambled ahead, and Magnolia laughed. This ridiculous dog conquering a mountain with the same energy he brought to stealing table scraps.

  Yi's stride faltered.

  "What?"

  "Nothing." But she heard the smile. "I like that sound. "

  Her face went hot. She was glad he couldn't see it.

  The top of the hill opened before them.

  Silver-green grass rippling in the wind. Trees forming a natural bowl around a clearing that might have been designed for exactly this: standing at the edge of the world, watching the sky catch fire.

  And the view.

  Magnolia's breath caught.

  The city stretched to the horizon. The old districts glowed amber below. Beyond them, the newer quarters rose in tiers, brighter and brighter, until the inner city blazed at the center of everything.

  Yi lowered her to the ground. Stood beside her, close enough that their shoulders touched. Skippy flopped at their feet, panting.

  Neither spoke.

  "Any minute now," Yi said.

  A whistle split the night. High, thin and climbing—

  The sky exploded.

  Red burst across the darkness, petals of fire unfurling in every direction. It hung there, painting the world crimson, then scattered into golden sparks that drifted down like rain.

  Another. Another. Another.

  Blue and silver arced overhead. Green spiraled in corkscrews of flame. Purple and pink bloomed together, tangled, dancing. The explosions came faster now, layering, until Magnolia couldn't tell where one ended and the next began.

  Yi's arm wrapped around her shoulders. She leaned into him without thinking, her head against his chest.

  "I used to think this world was just about losing things," he said. His voice was low, half-lost under the explosions. "Everyone leaves eventually. Your parents. The people you love. My mother and father went off to fight the Black Wisteria and never came back. I kept asking my sister when they'd be home."

  Gold cascaded across the sky, brighter than the rest.

  "She worked herself to death trying to keep us fed. Gave everything." His chest hitched beneath her cheek. "Still wasn't enough."

  The fireworks painted his face red, then blue, then gold again.

  "I thought that was just how it worked. That you walk down a long dark corridor, and the doors close one by one, and eventually you're alone."

  His arm tightened.

  "Then you showed up. Half-dead on my doorstep. Looking at me like I was the first person who'd ever been kind to you." He let out a breath. "And I thought maybe the corridor isn't as dark as I remember. Maybe I don't have to walk it alone."

  The finale hit. A hundred bursts at once, so bright it left afterimages seared into her vision. The city roared below them; voices, whistles, the clatter of noisemakers rising up to shake the hill.

  Then silence.

  Heavy. Ringing.

  The last embers spiraled down, trailing smoke.

  Yi pressed his lips to her hair.

  "I don't know if any of these lasts," he murmured. "But I want to find out."

  Magnolia lifted her head.

  His eyes were red at the edges. Tired. But he was looking at her like she'd hung the fireworks herself.

  She didn't have words.

  So she rose onto her toes and kissed his cheek.

  Quick. Just a brush of her lips against that mole she couldn't stop noticing.

  When she pulled back, Yi's hand flew to the spot like he was checking it was real.

  "What—" His voice cracked. He tried again. "What was that for?"

  Magnolia smiled. It felt strange on her face. She hadn't smiled like this in years.

  "For carrying me up the hill."

  "Oh." He blinked. "I can carry you down too."

  "I'd like that."

  They stood there a moment longer. The city glowing below. The stars burning above.

  Yi's hand found hers again.

  "Ready to go home?"

  Home.

  Magnolia looked at him. At the smile still tugging at his mouth. At the way he held her hand.

  "Yeah," she said. "Let's go home."