Hushed Willows We crumble and fall, but we don’t break

A tribute to Boone. Reverie wasn't sure she liked that idea. She loved him dearly, but that didn't change his failings; it didn't change how alone she'd felt in those final weeks. And what had he done to contribute to the lives of his children, truly?

Why not a tribute to herself?

Maybe not Mayfair, She conceded after a moment, thinking of the curse Lestan had spoken of now. These children already bore a curse of their own, surely. There is power in the blood. Medeiros blood. Medeiros, then. That was my name before Mayfair, before any of it - and Everett still uses it too, I think. A name she'd once cast off forever — or so she had thought.

Perhaps they could make something new of it.