On the willows there, we hung up our lyres

"Cold," says Gideon. "Damp. Half of it's a prison and half of it's a tomb. The Tomb—the one we're bound to protect. And—mostly it's empty. There used to be more of us, but now it's me, Harrow, the old, and the dead." Maybe just the old and the dead, depending on how Gideon's counting herself and Harrow at the moment. "The only other guy even close to our age blew up trying to leave the planet."