One year earlier

        “Feya, Victoriya’s village was bombed last night.” Mr. Fedora stood from the small table in front of the kitchen window. He drew the patterned curtains, picked up a candle, and handed it to Feya. “We’re sorry.”

        Denial exploded throughout her body. “No, no, you’re wrong!” Feya backed away. “The war wouldn’t come to the small towns. You said so yourself.”

        “I thought it wouldn’t. But it did.” Mr. Fedora grasped Mrs. Fedora’s hands. His voice shook with his following line: “Victoriya and her parents died instantly, so at least they didn’t feel pain.”

        “No, you’re wrong!” Feya chucked the candle onto the floor. Tears burned behind her eyes. “For God’s Sake, I talked to her last night!”

        “It happened at midnight.”

        “Shut up, тато!” Feya pushed him and collapsed. She punched the floor until her fist throbbed. “Not Victoriya! Not Victoriya!” How could her childhood friend be gone just like that?

        Her parents kneeled and surrounded her.

        Daisy squeezed in and rested her chin on Feya’s thigh.

        “I’m sorry, sweetie,” Mrs. Fedora whimpered, kissing Feya’s head. She gave her back the candle. “We’re going to hold a vigil tonight, just the three of us, so we can give them a proper goodbye.”

        “No!” Feya tugged on her like a little kid. “Victoriya! I want Victoriya!”

        But she would never get her back.

***

        The horrific memory bombarded Feya while Melody led her and Maisie out of the Convention Center to the lakefront. She accidentally crashed into one of the outside tables (she wasn’t paying attention), and the impact knocked her and a chair down. The chair nearly hit Daisy.

        Feya sniffed and gripped her injured wrist. She hadn’t had a grief wave like this in a while and struggled to stand.

        Melody knelt and hugged her. “Hey, hey. We’re right here, Fey.”

        Maisie tossed herself into the hug, too. “I’m sorry, girl. I’ve been such a horrible friend lately.”

        “It’s not you, May,” Feya admitted. “I just need to get past this.” She inhaled. “Melody, show us what you want to show us.”

        “Will you be okay?” Melody and Maisie lugged Feya to her feet.

        “I think so,” she replied. Nevertheless, Feya cried steadily during the rest of the journey as more memories of Victoriya came to her.

        She saw when they met at Bukovel when they were learning to ski, the days they wove their flower wreaths, the day the war started, etc. Feya wished to know if Victoriya was at peace wherever she was. She also wondered if Melody could tell her.

        Maisie took Feya’s hand and squeezed it. “I’m doing this for you, Fey.”

        Did that mean she believed Melody was a spirit? If not, there had to be a way for Feya to prove it.

        They passed El Centro and turned left at Gran Destino Tower, where they crossed a bridge quieter than the main one at El Centro. Lago Dorado was on their left, and a smaller lake overlooking Coronado’s Cabanas was on their right.

        “It happened here,” Melody explained, approaching the Cabanas side of the bridge. “I was nineteen years old.”

        Maisie scoffed and crossed her arms. Yep, she didn’t believe Melody was a spirit, but Feya did.

        “What happened, Melody?” she asked, pointing at the gate. “It’s not easy to fall over…”

        “… unless you climb,” Melody finished.

        “Did someone force you?”

        Melody paused and didn’t say anything else for a while.

        “I’m sorry,” Feya continued. She had a bad habit of asking how people died. “You can tell us when you’re ready.”

        “I will. I promise.” Melody faced Maisie. “But for now, why don’t I show you two around Coronado?”

        “I think I’m okay right now.” Feya flicked a tear away. She needed some time alone to grieve Victoriya. “I’ll join you two later, though. Until then, why don’t you and Maisie spend some time together? It may help her.”

        “But, Feya,” Maisie protested.

        “Please, Maisie. You’ll give Melody a chance if you want to make me happy.” Feya walked by her, head lowered, and stumbled upon a butterfly garden on her way back to Casitas 1. It was outside one of the arches and across from a badminton field inside the plaza.

        A monarch butterfly jumped off the flower it sucked nectar from and landed on Feya’s finger. Her wings fluttered, and she seemed to stare at her.

        “Hey, Victoriya.” Feya giggled under the butterfly’s ticklish feet. She always believed butterflies and dragonflies were visiting loved ones. While Victoriya wasn’t Feya’s sister, she always felt like one. “I miss you,” she whispered, “but I know we’ll see each other again—sooner or later.”

        A part of Feya wished sooner.