Fate held the broken halo in both hands. Seven gold shards hung in a leather pouch at her belt, chiming when she walked. She had sworn to mend it. The archangel who once wore it had fallen, and only a whole halo could lift him back to grace. But she could not begin the repair without the angel himself. She had searched three seasons and found nothing. He had hidden too well. Her yellow and purple wings dragged in the grass behind her. She was tired. The glow at her shoulders had dimmed to a weak flicker. She stopped before a small wooden house crowned with carved gnomes, their painted faces watching the door. Someone had told her a blind nun lived inside. A seer. The last name on her list. Fate knocked. The door opened before her knuckles fell twice. Sister Nova stood in the frame, her face turned slightly past Fate's shoulder. Her eyes were white and unseeing, yet she spoke first. "You carry pieces of a crown," she said. "I hear them ring." "You know what I seek," Fate said. "I know who you cannot find." The nun's hands stayed folded inside her black sleeves. "Come. Sit in the light." Inside, a cluster of wild flowers filled a clay jar on the table. Pink, yellow, purple blooms, some gone to seed. Sister Nova did not sit. She listened, her head tilting, as if the room spoke to her. "The host will not tell you where a fallen one hides," she said. "They turned their backs when he fell. But I asked the small things. The things that still fly between here and the fields." A tiny dragonfly lifted from the flowers. Its body shimmered yellow and pink. It hovered near Fate's face, then darted to the nun's open palm. "This one has seen him," Sister Nova said. "Follow it. It will not fly straight, and it will not fly fast. But it flies true." Fate's chest tightened. "Where?" "Deep in the wildflower country. Knee deep in blooms, where even the faeries forget his face." The nun smiled without warmth. "He does not want to be found, child. Finding him is the smallest of your troubles." The dragonfly rose and slipped out the open window. Fate stood fast. The shards chimed at her hip. "Thank you," she said. "Do not thank me yet." Sister Nova turned her white eyes toward the door. "When he sees the halo, he may not want it back." Fate stepped outside. The dragonfly waited at the edge of the gnome-crowned house, wings catching the sun. It drifted toward the open fields. She spread her wings and followed. For three seasons she had not known where to go. Now she did. The search was over. The real trouble began where the flowers grew knee deep, and she flew straight toward it.