By the time the sun began to set they'd made it to a high terrace with nothing below it but an expanse of shadowy plains. The dusk came on windy and cold, the sun sinking very dramatically against bruised blue clouds; the plains looked as though they'd burned, all the grass going deep orange.

It was impressive, but it made Liya homesick. Yoshi listened patiently as she told him about the sunsets over the ocean in Violetta, how the clouds would pile up in high painted pink sweeps, gilded with gold light--and how sometimes the sea would go calm and the sky reflected perfectly in it. He didn't stop her as she went on about the way the stars would start to poke out one by one behind the clouds, and how the heat of the day would subside into the humidity of the night, and how very dark and star-filled the sky would soon be, with no city lights to pollute it.

She stopped when she realized it hurt to talk about it, to think about it. Her hands dropped to rest on the railing in front of her, suddenly feeling very heavy. Yoshi seemed surprised by the sudden change. He interrupted her gently, gesturing for her to follow him.

They descended back down through the Palace and into the bailies, walking beneath the high walls, which were lit now by orange stones set like spotlights into their eaves. Yoshi led her to a dark spot east of the main Palace, where the orange lights didn't reach; it turned out to be a garden.

It was not lit at all, save for thousands of tiny blue lights that swarmed in the midst of the leaves, lighting on copper alligator-dog statues that lined the ashy path. Liya followed Yoshi in silence, taken in by the peace and the little lights.