Negative Film

By Leonard Petracci

Book 2 of the Places of Power Series

Dedication

To my family, friends, and online community - without them, this would not be possible.

Poets say science takes away from the beauty of the stars - mere globs of gas atoms. I too can see the stars on a desert night, and feel them. But do I see less or more?

-Richard Feynman

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Chapter List

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Chapter 88

Chapter 89

Chapter 90

Chapter 91

Chapter 92

Chapter 93

Chapter 94

Chapter 95

Chapter 96

Chapter 97

Chapter 98

Chapter 99

Chapter 100

Chapter 101

Chapter 102

Chapter 103

Chapter 104

Chapter 105

Chapter 106

Chapter 107

Chapter 108

Chapter 109

Chapter 110

Chapter 111

Chapter 112

Chapter 113

Chapter 114

Chapter 115

Chapter 116

Chapter 117

Part 1

INTRODUCTION

Superpowers are based on the topography of where someone is born.

Chapter 1

The front door gave way in two kicks from a reinforced boot, the paneling snapping as the locking mechanism exploded through the wood. It had never been meant to withstand force—rather, the house had relied upon the prestige of its neighborhood to provide protection, placing faith in the crime watch and the flimsy aluminum gate that guarded the street. The door itself had been crafted as an ornament, the rich mahogany actually extending only a sixteenth of an inch before it was replaced by cheap particle board, the gold-plated bracers constructed of hollow tin tubes. It stood confident and overbearing, proud, but without any true strength. Without a backbone.

Just like its owner.

"What is the meaning of this!" he shouted as he rushed down red carpeted stairs, lightning crackling between his fingertips. Lightning that he had never actually used for defense or work, but had offered as proof of his pedigree, atop a reputation supported by generational trust funds. "Don't make me—"

"Police," came the gruff answer as six flashlights swiveled his way, and his face turned paler than their beams. There were plenty of reasons the police might appear at his place, but he had long worked out arrangements that would have prevented such occurrences. Laundered money was to be overlooked so long as change found its way to the station. The same principle applied for tax exploitation. And as for his other crimes, there were always those who would open their hand in exchange for closing their mouths.

"Officers, surely we can reach an arrangement," he blubbered, the lightning fading to mere sparks. "May I request your purpose and your warrant?"

"If you have nothing to hide, you have nothing to fear," said their leader, his eyes narrowing. "We received a report of suspicious activity at this residence. There are those who hide from the state, those who would be willing to pay dearly for a back room. James, your openness to lucrative deals does not go unnoticed, and my officers themselves reported figures entering and exiting this house. Confess now, and we no longer have to search. Of course, should you confess now, we will have found those wanted in the sewer, where they belong, and not your house. But only if you confess. Otherwise, you will be just as wanted by the state."

"This is preposterous!" James, the owner, answered as the officers split, each taking a different path. "I've had no dealings of any sort!"

"Then you have nothing to fear, James," answered the leader, his voice a whisper through thin lips. "Nothing at all."

Dressers smashed into splinters as the officers searched, drywall caved to reveal no hidden compartments, and carpet surrendered to knives. The leader smiled as he watched James fidget, the dollar amounts nearly reflecting in his eyes as they streamed away from his net worth. And soon the first officer climbed the stairs, searching James’ own room, the uppermost of the house with a view of the city more priceless than any of his possessions. The officer frowned as he ripped covers from the bed, chucked the mattress to the floor, and tapped the floorboards. And he spoke after a minute, his voice exasperated and laced with frustration.

"How many times do I have to tell you?" he said, rolling his eyes as he continued to search. "We're after the escapee. Number six from the report. Going to be damn hard to find, you know, because—"

His voice trailed off as he turned and saw that he was the only one in the room. His brow knit together, and he mumbled, craning his neck to check that he was indeed alone. He could have sworn his partner had followed him, and after hours of briefing, had actually asked what they were looking for just a moment ago.

But instead, no one was there.

He continued to search with the hairs on his neck half raised, whipping around at the slightest noise to inspect the room, taking less and less care as each second passed. Then he nearly left the room at a sprint, like a child running back from leaving the trash at the end of a long driveway after dark. And in seconds, he returned to the lead officer, while the others kept watch on James downstairs.

"There's someone here," he said. "I feel it, and I don't like it."

"Your power," asked the leader. "Does it indicate anything?"

"Nothing, sir," he answered, shuffling his feet. "I feel nothing alive in this room. Aside from the clock, there's no energy consumption. But there's ways to hide, as you know. And this feels wrong."

"Fine," hissed the leader, extending a hand forwards, his eyes sliding over each of the objects in the room. "Step back; we need a full investigation."

The officer rushed through the doorway just as the leader's hand formed a fist, and the room came to life. James' bedspread unknit itself, each of the individual threads spiderwebbing apart, pulling the seams of the mattress with them. The springs uncoiled as if they were made of spaghetti, arranging themselves in neat rows on the hardwood. Screws unwound from the bookshelves as each book came apart at individual pages, streaming forward in rivers of paper that accumulated in a neat pile at the center of the room. The dresser disassembled at the joints, the planks stacking to be organized by size, with a neat row of knobs atop. And every other object of the room unmade itself, from the desk to the office chair, the ceiling fan to the vents, down to wiring in the walls, until all that was left were their components, organized, and inanimate.

"Nothing to be found," stated the leader as the officer peered wide-eyed over his shoulder.

"I'm sorry sir," came the reply, the far larger man biting his lip. "I thought—"

"It does not matter; I expected to find nothing anyway," the leader said, his voice level. "The descriptions of those entering the house did not match our records. No, not at all. I knew that walking in."

"Then why did we bother, sir?"

"Because there are those who would best remember," he answered, looking through the floor to where James stood below, "who runs this city and who merely resides in it."

He shook his head and left, the officer following, too far away to hear the gulp that sounded from the roof as three adolescents pressed their ears against shingles, catching the bits of conversation below, the words muffled. And as the police cars trickled away, they departed, one of them hovering to lower the other two to the ground and to steal off into the night.

Chapter 2

"Look, I already told you," said Arial, rolling her eyes towards the ceiling, her voice exasperated. "He's not on the case. The police want no one who was involved in the rehabilitation fiasco involved. Except for me, but you already know that."

"I do," I answered, rubbing the heel of my hand against an eyebrow in frustration at our lack of answers. "But if your father isn't working with them, how do they plan on catching anyone? And what did they ask you again?"

We sat in the corner of Burner's Coffee Shop, at a small wood table nestled into a brick alcove, with me settled at the deepest point. Those walking by would only see Arial's brunette hair unless directly in front of the recession, and even then, they would likely be more focused on the steaming cup between their hands than two whispering teenagers. Normal whispering teenagers were be commonplace here, and we were doing our absolute best to be normal whispering teenagers. Normal, after everything over the last few months, was difficult bordering on impossible.

In front of me was a list of names, one for each of the students who had attended the rehabilitation facility that had turned out to be more like a school for brainwashing recruits, accompanied by an untouched cup of coffee.

"It's the best in the city," Arial had claimed when she deemed Burner's our meeting point, "And more importantly, it's a block from my new school, so I can wait to be picked up there without suspicion under the guise of doing homework. My parents will never know I met with you, so long as you're not using your power if my father pulls up."

Though I had never tried coffee, the store did smell enticing, and I developed an immediate affinity for the pastries behind the glass counter. Arial ordered for us from a thin man with a scraggly grey-flecked beard and knitted hat, and he reached into a bag of raw beans, heat pulsing away from his fist as the beans roasted before being dropped into a small grinder. With a practiced motion, he pulled a pitcher of water from the shelf behind him, the water boiling in his hand by the time the grinder finished, then poured the powdered beans inside before capping the glass.

“It’s a French press,” Arial explained as I carried the empty cups to the table and she held the larger glass filled with cloudy brewing liquid. “Burner’s introduced it to me, and you’ll love it. It's sophisticated, unlike the north.”

She winked, her last comment alluding to the lie I had given her the first time we had met—that I was a traveling Boreal, one capable of replicating the Aurora, born near the tip of the hemisphere. Utilizing my own power, I'd been able to produce a similar effect by extracting light that was trapped within one of my dark spheres. It was the lie I had fed her parents when I attended dinner at her house, one that her father had not bought for an instant, and had marked the start of our journey together. A journey that had ended with us liberating dozens of brainwashed students from a city rehabilitation facility that had far darker goals than their occupants' welfare.

Arial paid without asking, knowing my traditionally tight financial setting, and I enjoyed the refreshing smell of coffee far more than the bitter taste, taking only a single forced sip. But that hadn’t stopped her from filling my cup to the brim every time we met here, though the owner scowled each time we departed and I left a full but now cold mug on the counter.

“Anyways,” continued Arial after a sip of the fresh brew that day, a variety that Burner's chalkboard specials announced to have been infused with strawberries by Vibrants, “the police only questioned me once, and they only wanted to know if anyone had not returned to their families. Apparently, a few had scattered back among the streets. The officers claimed to be concerned for their safety, but obviously, they would know who had and had not been accounted for. So I answered no, playing stupid, and since there were no charges, they couldn’t bring in a Truther to check. At least, with the story of what happened in the subway still fresh, they couldn't risk bringing one in without it potentially blowing up in their faces.”

“But they wouldn’t say who they were asking about?” I inquired, a frown forming on my face as I thought about what we had heard the officers say on the rooftop just a few nights before. Despite their words, Lucio had planted a memory to look exactly like us in a few of their minds, which had lured them to enter the location after we noticed it had been under surveillance.

The descriptions of those entering the house did not match our records. No, not at all. I knew that walking in.

“No, they wouldn’t, and I didn’t think it would be the best of ideas to ask. I heard Wendy was brought in four more times because she said she used to know a few of the missing students outside the rehabilitation center, and I wouldn’t want to arouse suspicion. Trust me, at first they were looking for you. Roland made it his top priority, and Father was inundated with requests about your whereabouts. But that’s changed, ever since his demotion.”

I sighed. She’d already mentioned Roland, the former chief of police’s change in position. A new chief had moved in from another city, one that had been pushed into Roland’s role as quickly as the officers who had been in the subway had been redirected to traffic duty and desk work. Under my breath, I cursed—when Roland and the Hunter were in charge, I had known their motives and possible plans. But now, someone new had entered the arena. Someone unknown.

And in the words of my old instructor Linns from the rehabilitation facility, the unknown is the most dangerous.

Chapter 3

“Tensions continue to heighten after a statement this afternoon by High General Webster,” spoke the newscaster, her cherry red lipstick two inches above the microphone and concern pushing through the thick layer of powder on her face, her voice with a hard and forced edge. The wind plucked at her otherwise perfectly brushed hair, threatening to pick apart the careful flow and pull the strands in its own direction, despite a near army of clips forcing it into place.

“General Webster,” she continued, her eyes flicking towards a still scene of political buildings that formed the backdrop behind her, “has assured Congress that we have entered an immediate state of distress. Should war break out across the Atlantic, home forces are not seasoned or powerful enough to adequately answer the call. He calls for more troops, for stronger individuals to enlist, even for a draft. Inaction, he claims, exposes our nation in a way that can only be described as a direct threat to our populace’s well-being—”

“Oh, can’t we ever watch something more entertaining?” exclaimed an exasperated Lucio, cutting off the reporter and drawing my gaze away from the screen. “Like an actual movie for once? If we’re all cooped up down here, we might as well get some culture out of it! I can feel myself starting to get boring.”

It was our fifth week in the subway station, and I drummed my fingers on my leg from where I sat on the garage sale purchased couch. Lucio perched across from me on another garage sale couch, horridly mismatched with my own, as we watched a television that had gone out of style roughly ten years prior. Lucio, with his ability to alter memories, had already illustrated the point that he was capable of far more resolution than the flickering screen. The subway itself had changed drastically since we first arrived, or at least the section we inhabited—tents were strewn across the concrete floor for each of us, pushed far enough apart to form small territories like rooms, each with a small collection of belongings to declare its perimeter along with hanging sheets for privacy. The small kitchen had expanded after Slugger had found a small electric stove in an abandoned house and carried it back, his Momentive powers making it as light as a feather when he maneuvered it through the tunnel. A few space heaters supplied warmth, their extension cords crisscrossing the area to a plug that Lucio discovered had miraculously still worked, and since we paid no power bill, they were kept on high. At its base, the plugs clustered like tree branches to a trunk, stacked on top of each other in precisely the manner fire safety presentations instructed not to do.

Slugger held a wet tennis ball a few strides away and was busy tossing it against the wall, whipping it as hard as he could so it spattered against the concrete. He squinted, launching the ball to hit the same mark each time, and so far had only missed twice. And with each contact, the ball made a slightly different sound as its weight was modulated, the weight fluctuating between a bowling ball and a marble due to his ability to control mass, the distance of the droplets of water and violence of their shape from the impact region testifying to the change.

“We have to see what they’re up to,” I said, continuing to watch the screen, though I’d lost focus. “We’ve effectively cut off any clues we have to what Siri’s and Peregrine’s people might do next. I don’t even know where to look.”

“Yes, because they’re going to spill it out to you over the television as guests to a talk show,” Lucio drawled, waving his hand that was filled with fluff he had been absentmindedly pulling out of the degraded cushion. “Erm, yes, I’m glad you asked! World domination does happen to be a hobby of mine. Stop on by on each Tuesday and we’ll have a chat over tea! Positions open for interns and text the number below for live voting on your method of national destruction!”

Whap! sounded Slugger’s tennis ball, a particularly massive one, which splashed hard enough to throw flecks of water across my wrinkled brow.

“Well, what do you suggest we do?” I sighed, raising my hands.

“Not watch TV, unless it’s for movies! Maybe we do another recon mission like the other night. Spook the police a bit.”

Whap.

“We don’t want them to know they’re being watched, or else we’ll lose that advantage,” I countered. “Besides, we can only learn so much from sending them false flags. We need to know what they’re really after.”

Whap.

“Would you cut it out?” shouted Lucio at Slugger as he was sprayed with water. “Baseball’s not even in season, and that’s not even a baseball. I swear, you’re just doing it to annoy us!”

“Aye, and it’s working,” Slugger responded, Whap, before walking over. He dropped the tennis ball in Lucio’s lap and the boy doubled over as he sank into the cushions, the particularly heavy object pinning him down. “But maybe the two of you could learn a bit of something from some baseball.”

“Like how to be a jackass?” interjected Lucio, managing to squirm out from underneath the ball as it slammed onto the floor.

“Nah, I’ve learned that from other places and so have you, rawny as you are. Reason I joined the team, remember?” retorted Slugger, then he faced me. “There are nine players on the field in a game, but only one ball. What do the rest of the players do when they don’t have the ball?”

“They wait,” I said, turning away from the television, “until it comes their way.”

“Right you are, lad. They wait, but they’re ready. I’m thinking you’re a bit eager—you’ve just hit a homerun, and yer ready for another pitch, but it’s the other team’s turn to bat. But you’ve got to wait, or you’ll break the rules of the game, and that only helps the other team. It’s time for patience.”

“Well, you can’t expect us to sit here and do nothing,” I protested, gesturing above. “Not while who knows what is going on up there!”

“I didn’t suggest that,” he said, picking the tennis ball back up from the ground now that it had returned to normal weight. “But I do think it’s their turn to bat now. And it’s time for us to start securing some outs so we can step back up to the plate. Yer right, SC, we need to listen, and do so carefully. But Lucio has a grand point, as much as it pains me to admit it—the television will tell you nothing.”

“So what we need, then, is more listeners.”

“Aye. More importantly, we need them in the right places. When they hit a fly ball, there needs to be someone there to catch it. But remember, we’re fielding now. With a power like yours, lad, it’s easy to be cocky—but don’t fool yerself into thinking yer not defeat-able. The encounter with Peregrine sounded more like luck than skill.”

“Fine,” I said, ignoring his last statement but knowing the validity behind the words. “We’ll need to start tailing them. But which ones?”

“Old instructors, police,” commented Lucio, ticking off his fingers. “Maybe play Blake a visit. Come on, SC, let’s get creative. Let’s have some fun.”

“Plenty of that still to be had,” said Slugger, rubbing his hands together. “When we escaped the facility, we thought it was the bottom of the ninth, and that the game was about to be over. But really, it was the bottom of the first. And the game’s just begun.”

Chapter 4

The roof of the Norris skyscraper was locked, the lobby below protected by security guards and elevators requiring card keys. Far down below, those entering and exiting wore only suits and carried leather-bound briefcases, the look of Specials who no longer needed the aid of their powers for financial security. Glittering windows comprised the building’s face, its shape composed of corners and edges optimized to create the maximum number of corner offices. To reserve a room in the Norris took months and several background checks, a bank account with enough liquidity to run a small government, and papers proving power pedigree.

Unless, of course, you were a Flyer.

For each night the past week, Arial had glided up the long shadow where the building’s architecture turned in upon itself, a crease in glass and steel shadowed by flood lighting. At full speed, she appeared little more than a shadow herself, her ashen grey clothes blending in with the darkness. Those who might see her from the street below would lose track of her with a blink, and by then, she had crested the top, standing behind one of the beams that made the building’s decorative crown, her hair tied back so its streaming would not give her away. From here, she could trace each of the individual city streets, watching as people crawled like ants far below and cars bumbled like miniature toys. She could watch as pinpricks of lights within windows extinguished themselves to succumb to the coming night, or track the westbound train as it rushed into a tunnel in the distance. She could see everything.

Including the police station, just a hundred yards in front of her.

“We should start meeting up here instead of the coffee shop,” she said to the breeze as I shivered behind her, my knuckles white on the support beam she hid behind, and my eyes avoiding the all too narrow path I stood atop. "Father would not approve."

“Preferably, no,” I answered, sweating. Today, the moon was shrouded by clouds, and Arial had waited until well past midnight to lift me to her lookout. With me in tow, her flight had been considerably slower, and together, we made a larger object that was far easier to spot. And we’d bumped into the building far too many times for my liking.

“Surprising that you’re so scared up here; it is closer to your birthplace,” she said, her eyes tracing a set of flashing blue lights that were only pulling over a speeder.

“I’m not scared,” I defended myself as she raised an eyebrow, making me blush, “I just prefer being closer to the ground.”

“Really?” she asked, giving me a light shove, and I stifled a shriek as I nearly fell from the platform. Her eyes laughed as I scrambled, finding purchase again, and I scowled.

“My power lets me know all too well what effect gravity can have on people,” I glowered, shivering. “I’d much rather be at the bottom of the gravity well. In space, it’s different. Free falling is much more advantageous because it comes without a splat.”

“Yeah, but you also can’t breathe, so there’s that. Besides, I would catch you, just like you caught me.” She squinted, overlooking the city again, then turned to face me. “ Anyways, the reason I brought you is because I need to know what to look for. There are blue lights all over the city—there’s more crime out here than I thought. Trying to keep an eye out for irregular police activity is impossible because it all seems irregular. Besides, when we do find them, how do we hide well enough to listen in?”

“For hiding, remember what we practiced when you first started carrying me? That should work well enough. As for the cop cars, when we lured them in last time, there were six at the destination.” I answered, swaying as my stomach leapt up into my throat. “Watch for that: several cars coming together, potentially from several streets. False alarms are all right; we should be able to rule them out pretty quick and we’ll likely have a couple. Or maybe we’re looking for the wrong thing entirely, and that’s all we’ll have. You’re only up here two hours a night, so our chances of catching them are pretty slim.”

“Unlike my chances of falling asleep.” She yawned and reached into a backpack that she had brought, removing a thermos of coffee and small candy bar. “But sugar and caffeine should take care of that. Instant coffee, though. I can barely stand it.”

“And no matter what, Arial, don’t chase them alone.”

“You seemed to have no problem with that,” she said, coming closer to me and taking my hand. “But before we leave, this comes first.” She pressed against me on the rooftop, each of us blocking half the wind from the other, sole points of warmth in a cold sky. And when her lips met mine, it was as if we had never kissed before—it always felt like that. Like I doubted my very memory at how soft they were, at how my heart pounded too fast within my chest, and how I always forgot to breathe.

It took me a minute to recover as my fingers interlaced with her hair, and I realized the error of her last statement.

“Leaving? We still have an hour up here.”

“Not anymore we don’t!” she said, tightening her hug so I couldn’t wriggle free. “Cop cars converging in the south of the city. We’ll have to hurry to catch up! And you did say I couldn’t leave alone!”

Then she fell backwards, laughing as I drew in a sharp breath, and we dove into the city below.

Chapter 5

It had been a false alarm. A drug bust, one single white van surrounded by six police officers that emptied dozens of wrapped packets onto the street from the lining inside the door. Arial and I watched from behind a billboard, our heads poking out as the police handcuffed the suspect, the darkness concealing us. The ad was faded, the lettering in front advertising a herbal remedy store behind us that had shut down several months prior, which aided in preventing curious glances.

I’d managed to keep the contents of my stomach when Arial pulled out of her swooping dive to duck and weave through the city shadows, accelerating through bright spots to avoid being noticed. By the end of the trip, I felt like a soda can that had been shaken to the point of near explosion.

“It’s getting easier, and I'm getting better at it,” she whispered when we had alighted on the platform, setting me down gently so my heels made no noise on impact with the webbed metal. “Carrying you, that is. It used to feel like I supported your whole weight—but now, it’s like the lifting force extends over to you. Makes you lighter and much less like a sack of potatoes.”

“And makes me feel more scrambled,” I commented, all too aware of the subtle change in technique that made the process more like a lurch and less like a ride. With time, hopefully I’d grow used to it—but for now, it was like running at full tilt while blindfolded. Trusting it went against instinct. Against nature.

We watched until the officers dispersed to be sure the scene was as it appeared, and as expected, nothing extraordinary occurred. An hour later, Arial dropped me off at the side alley that formed the entrance to the subway, then departed, zipping back to enter her room through the window she kept cracked open. Here, the gap in the bricks between two competing apartments was so narrow that I had to walk sideways, else my shoulders would brush against the abrasive outcroppings that haphazardly jutted into the middle. I climbed over a few aluminum trash bins that reeked of used diapers, then under a shelf that bore three potted plants that had long died, deprived of sunlight, before arriving at the dead end. A solid wall, also brick, extended to the concrete below.

It had taken a few days to bore a hole up to the surface, as the underground hallway leading to the subway ran directly underneath the alley. Unfortunately, the hallway had been filled with cement and rubble to prevent discovery, likely by Peregrine. Using my black orbs, I’d been able to carve through, but the going was slow—the heavier my orbs became, the more difficulty I had in controlling them. Light would spiral away unbeckoned from their depths, or they wouldn't quite move in the direction I intended to, or they would collapse entirely. This left more than a few areas of the tunnel widened beyond its original proportions, from when my sphere cut away too much. And on the tracks below, there was a mound of dust as tall as me from where I had allowed the orbs to collapse in a more controlled fashion.

But even with my messy cuts, the hole here was invisible due to the trick from the tunnels extending from Peregrine’s teleportation device. Like the other entrances, I’d tied them in a knot that constricted reality itself, creating a false corner that could be entered at just the right angle while spinning. It felt like squeezing between two tightly stretched pieces of rubber as space pressed in, and the exits were never graceful—I’d landed on my hands more than once, and only Lucio had seemed to master the art of falling inwards to the point where he could sprint through the barrier.

The alley above had been dark, but the remnant rays of street lights and passing headlights had made it navigable. Here, below the earth, all light was cut off. My patchwork job of the floor was uneven in the best regions and near mountain climbing in others—this passage was more for emergency exits and discreet entering, so we had yet to level the ground. Had Darian still been around and not disappeared after the confrontation, his help mimicking my powers would have made the task far easier. Even if he couldn't create the orbs, he could move them, and once he took control of them, I could create more to expand beyond my usual two. He would have been especially helpful in carting the rubble below so I could keep a better handle on the orbs I used to dig.

A collection of flashlights were to my right, but I wouldn’t need them—instead, I reached in the pocket in space above my wrist. I was now in the habit of keeping an orb charged by sunlight there for emergencies, and I let the rays spool away from it in arcs to play along the walls. The light lapped like waves against the darkness, decreasing the size of the orb at a sluggish rate, and I was careful to ensure it did not get too small lest it release a telltale pop.

At this hour, deep in the night when everyone ahead should be asleep, silence would be best.

But ahead, I heard voices.

Shouting voices.

Chapter 6

“I caught you! I caught you this time!” Lucio was shouting as I entered the lower level, watching as Slugger stumbled away from the kitchen and Lucio followed. Slugger, still half asleep, looked down at his hands, where blue ink was still wet on his palms, matching the splatter that covered half his face and smeared across his shirt.

“The hell is this?” he asked, sleep still trying to claim him, followed by a stream of curses so comprehensive that I only recognized half of them. “Cabinet exploded on me. What type of snacks have we been getting? I’m all for discount variety, but this has gone too far.”

“No, it’s because those were my snacks, and I had that balloon of blue dye rigged to pop only if the granola bar box was opened and the cabinet door was opened. I laid that trap yesterday night and I’ve been waiting, but sure enough, you set it off! Those are mine, Slugger. I get them because no one else eats them. That’s the whole point,” Lucio said, jabbing his finger into Slugger’s chest. “They’re for me.”

“Aye, with money earned together down here slogging construction materials to the surface. Like you could do that without me,” Slugger countered. “But your trap must be as crap as yer accusations—I didn’t take your bars. Have a go, search me.”

“Well, yeah, because the balloon exploded before you had the chance.” Lucio pointed to the cupboard and took down the box of bars as I sighed, since all of our snacks were now of the dyed blue variety. “See? This box was full when I put it up there, and now it’s still full because you weren’t able… wait.” He stopped, confusion flashing across his face as he reached inside and found it half empty, then rounded on Slugger. “Did you manage to get some out before the balloon went off, then?”

He pat Slugger down while the other boy rolled his eyes towards the ceiling.

“Damn, lad, you’d think I’d stolen yer shoes. Cool off a bit. No one’s trying to take yer stuff. Just wanted a midnight snack is all. I’ve told you, I don’t even like granola.”

“Then where’d it go?” Lucio stammered in equal measures of confusion and accusation, but what concerned me more was behind him: a figure that had been stirred by their arguing and had left her tent to stare, just as I slid the remainder of the way in from the tunnel entrance.

My mother.

“And where,” she continued for Lucio, her hard eyes sliding over me, “have you been? We only leave here for necessities, selling the construction materials or buying food.”

“Just on a walk,” I lied, face turning red as she squinted at me, taking in my dark clothes and the crazed patterns that Arial’s flight had left in my hair. When I met Arial at Burner’s during the day, my mother had always been shopping. I hadn’t expected her to be awake for my night excursion.

“I see,” she said, her voice low. “Just on a walk above, where you can be found and taken. Now that others know about you, you’re a target. By going alone, we would never have known what had happened to you. And by going at all, you endangered us all.”

“But they’re not looking for me anymore—” I bit down on my lip, realizing my mistake as her nostrils flared.

“And how would you know that?” Her voice was cold, her eyes angry. “You leave the police’s business to the police. Becoming involved only puts us at risk and they have longer memories than you may think. It’s one thing for you to do the right thing, and to protect others; it’s another to go looking for trouble, to be stirring the pot when you don’t know if there’s a viper in the soup!”

“But—”

“No, Star Child. We’ll speak on this tomorrow. There will come a time for you to help when you are older, but that will never occur if you are killed before then. Others aren’t as arrogant as Peregrine, and they won’t hesitate. Now off to bed, all of you. And, Lucio, this kitchen better not have a trace of blue to it when lunch is served.”

Her look was so fierce that even Lucio refrained from a quip, and blue as he was, Slugger looked more than ready to return to the warmth of his tent. I bit my lip as I entered my own living area, the lights behind me turning off, knowing that I’d have to be more careful on my excursions. That maybe I should create another path to the world above, one that only I knew about, one that wouldn’t be watched.

I studied the nearby wall, thinking of potential routes, realizing most of them would likely go through an electrical or water line that would result in our discovery. Then I sensed someone next to me, and I heard Lucio’s voice in the near darkness as he whispered.

“It’s not about the granola, you know.”

He shifted, and I could see the whites of his eyes in the darkness, staring in the vague direction of the cabinet.

“What’s not?” I asked, one of my ears towards him and the other in the direction of my mother.

“That’s not why I set the trap. Well, I suppose the missing bars are why, but I didn’t do it to catch Slugger. I thought I would catch someone else.”

“Down here? Lucio, do you think we’re not alone?”

“Well, they are going missing. And Darian has been missing too, gone without a blink. He’s always wanted to be somewhere else, but I had hoped that he might be back. And now that he isn’t, without a word of his whereabouts, I’m worried, SC. Last we heard, he was with the police. And I don’t consider them great friends.”

I sighed, adding Darian to the list of concerns that were starting to bubble over in my mind. I’d assumed that he’d cared for himself, but Lucio was right. Maybe there was reason to be worried. But like my other problems, I had no idea where to start.

“Tell you what,” I said to myself as much as him. “We’ll see what we can do to find him. I’m not sure how yet, but there must be a way. Besides, you knew him from before the academy, and we can check his old hangouts.”

“Thanks, SC,” he said, standing to leave. “Let’s just make sure he’s ok.”

“Right,” I answered and realized something more pressing than Darian being missing. Darian knowing about my power and where we were staying. And that information potentially being in the hands of the police.

Chapter 7

By eleven the next morning, and after an hour of arguing, my mother and I reached an agreement.

“I know where you go and when you go,” she said, unhappy at the compromise but yielding. “And you always go with someone else. Deal?”

“Deal,” I answered, though the word came with more difficulty than I had imagined. Of course, I’d wanted my mother back—I’d spent every effort in ensuring that I would rescue her. But now, my sudden restriction since her return felt palpable, as if I’d been leashed and could no longer act of my own will. “Starting now, though, we’re going to the library so we have something to do down here. Do you want anything?”

I waited, hoping she would take the bait, that I could bring her back a book to prove our destination.

“Something on cooking,” she said after a moment’s hesitation, “and be back in one and a half hours. I’m heading to the grocery, and that’s when I’ll be back.”

“Will do!” I answered and started towards the exit, Slugger and Lucio in tow. “Two hours, though; see you then!”

We maintained a walk until we reached the upper level, and at the first glimpse of sunlight broke into a run, our hoods pulled upwards to conceal our faces. It was six blocks to the library, in the opposite direction of where we should be heading, which would cut into our already meager time allotment. We leapt up the stairs when we arrived, and I turned to Lucio and Slugger, panting as I spoke.

“Five minutes, two books each. Something you’ve read before in case she asks about it. Go!”

“Something we’ve read before, eh? Slugger, do you even have two of those?” smirked Lucio.

“Oi, at least I can read. Picture book section is over there. Some of ‘em even pop out,” he retorted.

“Enough, let’s go!” I said, pushing them in separate directions before diving into the cooking section. Managing Meals on a Budget and Crockpot Cooking were stuffed under my armpit after two minutes of search, then I headed off to the fiction section, pulling down two books in the section dealing with the characterization of Specials by state. They were general glossaries—nothing deep enough in depth to warrant them belonging to the Specials section at the back of the library, where Regulars would be forbidden. Then I headed back to the front desk, standing in line behind the other two who had beat me there.

Slugger held The Masters Behind Grand Slams and Powers: Cheating or Advancing the Sport, while Lucio clutched Filmology and Perspective Makes the Scene. Ahead, the same Narcolept librarian who had once nearly caught me in the Specials section was checking out customers, yawning as she slowly scanned barcodes and squinted at a screen that cast a blue glow across her brow.

“Hmm, it just doesn’t seem to be finding it,” she murmured as I shifted my weight and tapped my foot, staring over Lucio’s shoulder as she tried to scan a thick encyclopedia for the fourth time, the man in front of her checking his watch when the machine finally beeped in approval. “There we go, there we go. All set. Is there anything else we can do for you today?”

“No, that’ll be all,” said the man, reaching for his books, but she pulled them back.

“Would you have any interest in joining our reading group? Meetings occur every Thursday and Tuesday of the—”

“No thank you, I do appreciate it.”

“Would you care to donate just one dollar to our city’s Reading Revolution program? Proceeds go to—”

“No thank you, but I wish it the best.”

“Of course you wouldn’t,” she nearly scoffed, then handed the books over, the bags under her eyes lengthening as she saw us waiting, “Next!”

But before we could move, a phone rang in the back, and she turned to look at the source of the sound.

“Excuse me, excuse me, this will take only a moment,” she said then shuffled backwards and answered the phone as I looked towards the door, a clock ticking just above the frame.

“Should we bolt?” asked Lucio, reading my mind. “At this rate, we’ll have no time afterwards.”

“Five more minutes,” I answered. “We need evidence that we were here.”

“We could just pinch ‘em,” suggested Lucio. “This being a public library, I’d hardly classify it as stealing, more as just skirting the system. Really, you couldn’t fault us for that.”

“Five minutes,” I reasserted, “then we can make a decision. The last thing I want is for us to be on some list for running off with books we don’t even want.”

“Sounds like good craic to me,” said Slugger, and Lucio nodded in agreement. But we waited until the librarian returned, at four and a half minutes, and began to scan us out. Ten minutes later, we were out the door and sprinting down the street.

“Lucio, hurry up!” I shouted, turning to see him pausing at the library window, staring at a piece of paper taped to the library window. Then he ripped it clear, stuffing the sheet into his pocket into a crumpled ball, and cleared the remainder of the steps in a single leap.

We followed Lucio as he darted down the main street and then side alleyways, leading us to a place he hoped still existed.

Chapter 8

“Heh heh, look who it is. Been some time, kid. Thought you got snatched off the streets.”

Fortunately, the door opened inward, as the alleyway was so narrow that its edge would have collided with the other side. No less than four locks were attached to the frame, and after knocking, each had voiced its own clunk as keys were turned in tumblers and chains were unhitched. Footprints covered the outside of the door from where people had tried to kick it in, but it was reinforced with iron on both the inside and outside, and likely the most expensive part of the entire apartment.

Streaks of mold covered the walls, particularly accumulating around the vents in colonies the size of dinner plates. Wrappers covered the ground like mulch, making each step crinkle as crumbs were sowed into an already filthy carpet. I opted away from a couch that released a cloud of dust as Lucio plopped down on a ripped cushion, choosing instead to settle on the corner of a wooden chair caked in what looked like dried milk. Slugger stood, perhaps the most wise decision out of the three of us.

“Smells, smells, so many smells you bring me, Lucio,” continued the man on the other end of the room, settled in a recliner that absorbed him like an amoeba, his face level with the fabric. “But where have you been? Must, I smell must, and concrete. Plus something familiar; can’t place that one, though. I’d say the sewer, but you don’t have the stench.”

He sniffed, a long, drawn-out motion that took several seconds, his beady eyes traveling over us. His cheeks folded into his face to give an angular appearance, his nose extending like a hook, his hair pulled back into a tight ponytail that ended in a knot that was half grease and half hair.

“Got nicked by the cops for a minute, Olef,” Lucio answered, brushing a dead moth off the arm of his chair, “but they couldn’t keep me for long.”

“Heh, you’re a slippery one for sure. Made you useful, didn’t it? But what brings you back? You looking for more jobs? I’ve got a few that could use your talents.”

I cast a sideways look at Lucio, but he shook his head, turning a slight shade of red, “Not this time, Olef. Instead, we were hoping you’d do a job for us.”

“I don’t work for free,” he said, crossing his arms and leaning back in the chair, his chin in the air. “I’m not in the business of favors.”

“And we don’t expect you to be. We need you to find someone for us. You remember that friend of mine, Darian? Brought him around a few times. Got his smell still? Think you can track him down?”

“Yeah, I got it. But tracking people is hard, especially in a city, and you know that. Objects are much easier, so much more distinct. Wait—” he exclaimed and drew in another long sniff before his eyes squinted at me. “You’re what the smell is. I remember you, cops came along with one of your shirts, wanted me to track you down. Lost your scent at a bus station leaving the city. Had a good amount of money on you too, but by the time I had that information, they pulled back the deal. They get you?”

“You could say that, yes.”

“Shame. Never did like working with them. Always bringing me the worst kinds of smells. Worse than most the calls I get in from the streets. Bloody smells. A pleasure to see you got out; it’s rare they come to me. How did you find their eye?”

“It’s a long story,” I said, “Full of many smells.”

Behind me, a rat squeaked in approval, darting out from under the couch in a mad rush to the kitchen. Slugger jumped, then tried to slam his heel down on it, but it was too quick, the tail evading his shoe with a sudden twitch. Olef roared in his seat, spittle spraying to cover us all.

“Lucy! You can’t harm Lucy! That’s no way to treat a roommate, kid!”

We stood, shocked, as he held out a hand and the rat spiraled up the arm of his chair, then perched in his palm, the eyes glaring with accusation at Slugger.

“Apologies,” said Slugger. “I didn’t realize it had a name.”

“Of course she does," Olef howled. "And she’s a one of a kind. How dare you insinuate—”

“Olef, do you think you can find Darian? Pardon my friend; manners come slow to him,” Lucio interjected, cutting him off, drumming his fingers on the table. “Finding Darian is why we’re here today. We’re concerned the cops might have picked him off the streets too.”

“There’s a chance," Olef said, still glaring at Slugger and nudging half a cracker from the floor to Lucy. "But don’t get your hopes too high. Helps that I’ve spent some time around him. But if it’s against those bastards, I’ll do it.”

“What’ll it cost us?”

Olef looked into the air before naming a number that made me flinch, then Lucio haggled him down to a price that still made my eyebrows raise.

“Half now,” concluded Lucio, “and half if you actually find him. Deal?”

“Deal,” said Olef with a crooked smile and spat into his hand. Lucio shook it then handed him a package of money that we had scraped together from selling unused construction materials in the subway, one we kept secret from my mother for emergencies.

Chapter 9

“So I was thinking, after we find Darian, and you know, before this whole save-the-world stuff starts, maybe we should do something to keep ourselves occupied,” Lucio said as we walked back, practically bouncing on his heels.

“I dunno about Darian; that man seemed a right mess,” commented Slugger with a shake of his head and spitting on the ground. “Doubt he could find all the rats in his own apartment. How many more Lucys are there, you think?”

“That’s how he likes it, surrounded by smells, so you were probably his favorite of us, Slugger.” Lucio wrinkled his nose. “But I bet you’ll be surprised. I’ve seen him pull off some surprises. It pays to underestimate your power when you live in a neighborhood like his.”

“Couldn’t find me, though,” I responded. “Besides, what sort of business did you have with that guy, Lucio? Not the type of crowd you should mix with often.”

“The Hunter couldn’t find you either, and that’s a whole different caliber,” Lucio said, raising a finger. “And people just come to Olef when they’re missing stuff. I just helped him find some of it.”

“I see—” I started, but then Lucio cut me off.

“Anyways,” he said, taking a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket and flourishing it in the air. “Look what I found at the library. There’s a film festival coming up, and there’s enough time before submissions still that we could have a chance! Just think, Lucio’s debut movie, my name painted with stars—”

“Lucio—”

“Yes, it would sound like that! But fine, our names painted with stars!” He danced in front of us, walking backwards and pointing at our chests. “As the director, I do need actors, and you’ll do. I’ll start working on the script immediately. We’ll have this in the bag, then—”

“Lucio, no,” I said, taking the paper from him. “We have bigger matters to worry about. We can’t go getting side-tracked on some festival.”

“Come on, SC,” he protested, his face falling. “We spend so much time in that subway that we should at least do something productive. Hah, that’s probably the last time you’ll hear me say that! The scenery isn’t the best, but we can make do. When the Mole People Attack— Slugger, you can take lead role there. Or The Catacombs of Paris, or Dungeons of Danger. We can make it work! We can win!”

I scanned the paper, taking it in as he pleaded, his eyes wide.

Scolliett’s Film Festival, for amateur artists only.

Welcome to Scolliett’s fiftieth and largest year running! With six returning teams and several new ones, purchase your tickets soon to see the highlights of this year’s indie films. Space is limited, so new teams please sign up as soon as possible using the contact information below. Due to the fiftieth anniversary, this year to be judged by a panel led by Alex Ficher, with the promise that the top video will be optioned for Hollywood rights, in thanks for his own success in this very contest thirty years ago.

“See that!” Lucio whispered, peering over my shoulder and voice filled with awe. “The Alex Ficher is judging! Likely won’t be at the event, of course, but still! SC, this is the real deal! Don’t you understand? My chance!”

“Who is judging?” asked Slugger, shaking out his red curls as he cocked his head.

“The Alex Ficher! He can’t touch a script without it becoming a blockbuster. The Midas of Hollywood, and he climbed that high as a Regular even! Who knows, we might even get to meet him if we win this, but even better, he’ll watch my movie!”

“Lucio,” I started with a sigh as we entered the tunnel to the subway, and they fetched the flashlights in the corner, the beams cutting through the darkness, “we can’t. At least I can’t. If you want to, I won’t stop you. But after what we know, I can’t just turn a blind eye. I have to stay focused.”

For a full two minutes, he stayed silent, until we reached the lower level where the tunnel emptied into our main room.

“But, SC, there’s nothing to focus on,” he complained, throwing his arm up in exasperation and making the beam dance. “I’d understand if we had a lead, or if we were doing something, but right now, we’re just sitting around waiting, and waiting, and—”

His voice cut off in a small shriek as he stopped cold, his hand extended forwards to point at the cabinet that was still open, with ink that had exploded over the countertop. And there, trailing away along the concrete floor, was a set of blue footprints.

“I told you someone was eating them!” he exclaimed, but I clapped a hand over his mouth, my muscles tensing and my voice lowering to a whisper.

“None of us were here; it had to be someone else. We don’t know who did it, and they could be dangerous if cornered—but even though they haven’t harmed us yet, that doesn’t make them safe. Since we now know Slugger hasn’t been behind this, they’ve been around for quite a while. And they probably don’t want to be found. We’ll need to be cautious.”

“Or we can leave the subway altogether!” responded Slugger. “I’m dying for sunshine here, and that’s coming from someone whose skin fries quicker than a potato chip.”

“No—this is now our first priority. Finding out who is here,” I hissed back, “and keeping my mother from blowing her top. If we move, it’s back to a cramped apartment. You won’t be seeing sunlight.”

“This is creepy as all Hell,” said Lucio, dropping the flier on the ground and casting a longing glance at it, “though this would make excellent material for a horror movie. Just a thought, SC. Consider it. Names in stars.”

One of us kept watch while the others examined the prints. There were twelve footsteps in all, the first four leaving long streaks on the concrete from when the victim had panicked from the exploding balloon. The next eight showed signs of slowing down, giving us a better look at the pattern of the tread.

“Tennis shoes, for sure,” said Lucio. “If we catch anyone, we can verify using the prints.”

“And they’re small, or at least, smaller than mine,” I added. “But what the hell happened here?”

I crouched, trailing a finger through a the last footprint that had morphed into a puddle of ink. About a foot wide, it was thicker here, splotched, as if someone had dropped the full balloon from a height and it had exploded on contact. But there the footsteps ended, stopped, though the last imprint was still well covered with ink.

“As if they flew away,” I said, bouncing on the balls of my feet before straightening. “I don’t think we’re dealing with a Regular here. Let’s get this cleaned up. The last thing we want is my mother freaking out even more. In the meantime, Lucio, start thinking of more traps. Maybe something with a little more oomph than ink.”

Chapter 10

We took shifts, keeping watch for the hidden intruder. Or, more accurately, listening in the near pitch-black subway after my mother shut off the lights for bedtime.

I volunteered to go first, but the task proved near impossible. In the darkness, there were dozens of sounds. There was the dripping of water from pipes far overhead, splattering on the floor in irregular intervals and distances. There were the squeaks and pitter patters of the rats in the distance, seeming to hold midnight conventions, and the rustling of those who had learned to climb the electrical wires high above. Even the train tunnel seemed to generate its own sound— hollow, like a seashell, and regurgitating the noise of everything in its depths.

But among these, I heard nothing human. No footsteps on the floor, no voices hushed in the chill air, and no cabinets creaking open for stolen snacks. Twice I thought I saw a shadow dancing against the concrete, but it was likely a trick, for it was so dark that even shadows could barely exist. And so, as the night progressed, my eyelids grew heavier, though I refused to succumb to their draw.

Then halfway through my shift, with no warning at all, I heard a whisper just behind my left ear, the hot breath accompanying it condensing on the lobe.

“Hey, it’s time.”

I nearly squealed as I whipped around, adrenaline rushing through me, drawing a sharp intake of breath that expanded so quick in my chest, it felt as if I were about to burst a lung. Two floating white orbs waited to match my two fresh black orbs, darting back and above before I could strike.

“Relax, it’s me, Arial,” came the whisper. “Can’t hear me when I hover. I call it stealth mode. It’s how I sneak out of the house when Father’s in his study. And what’re you doing up so late?”

“Long story,” I answered, releasing my breath. “What’s going on?”

“You can explain it on the flight, then. Let’s go! Cop cars converging, loads of them, house on Allelia Street. Got close enough to hear they think they found someone.”

“You were supposed to wait for us!”

“I did. That’s why I came back. Duh.” Even the darkness was not enough to hide her rolling eyes. “But do you know how many times the cop cars converge in one night? I’d be zipping in and out of here like a bee hive if I came every time. Besides, I’m good at sneaking, just like I did here for you. Now, ready?”

She swept forwards, her hands underneath my armpits, and my stomach lurched as she pulled me upwards. We zigzagged in the dark towards the exit, Arial flying low until we were out of earshot, then dropping me to the cement as the homemade tunnel thinned.

“Let’s go!” she hissed and took off running. I followed, only to be rocketed into the sky once again when I stumbled across her waiting just outside the tunnel, nearing the top of the skyscrapers at an alarming rate.

“You’re getting faster,” I choked as we arced high above the city, the lights streaking below us, goosebumps rushing across my skin.

“Thanks, been getting more practice!”

“It was more of a complaint than a compliment.”

In response, Arial clutched me tighter and pulled a corkscrew through the air, laughing as we completed the second turn, too high for our voices to be heard on the ground.

“Like I said, I’ve been practicing!” she shouted. “Father never liked to see me fly, and I’d always hidden it. Felt like it wasn’t worth using, that it wasn’t good enough to use. But since the academy forced me to start using it, things have changed! Guess that’s the one good thing that they did.”

She slowed, and we coasted to a stop, peering below as several police cars surrounded a house. Multiple others were parked in a small radius of the surrounding streets, officers posted outside and waiting.

“How’re we planning on getting down there?” I asked. “It’s surrounded on all sides.”

“We drop fast. Like a hawk. Bad visibility to the backyard except through the windows. So as long as we find a hiding spot quickly, we should be fine.”

“On it,” I answered, removing an orb from the pocket above my wrist. “Choose an open patch of grass. Just like we practiced.”

Arial nodded, her eyes lighting up as she understood. She initiated her dive, feet first, accelerating faster than gravity alone would allow. Below us, I enlarged the dark orb, stretching the space as wide as our shoulders like tossed pizza dough.

In the weeks after the academy, Arial had practiced flying with me, ensuring that she could support my weight before trying to haul me to the top of the skyscraper. But that was not all we had practiced—and now, the memories above a soccer field at midnight came rushing back.

“Rounding the corner now, prepare to fire!” Arial had shouted back then, her voice cracking with excitement as she had swooped towards a goal. I had unleashed two dark orbs, driving one through the net and carving a rut into the dirt beyond, while the other orb hooked left and destroyed a goalpost.

“Almost!” she shouted and banked left. “Coming in for another pass! Reload!”
After a few attempts and as I grew more accustomed to her flight patterns, my aim improved to the point where I could choose a corner of the goal and successfully hit it without damaging the metal. Retrieving the orbs after I had thrown them proved far more difficult, as once they left my control, their collapse became nearly inevitable.

But firing black orbs was just one of the ideas we had developed. The second, and happening just now as the ground rushed towards us in the police-surrounded backyard, still made me clench my teeth even after we had nearly destroyed an entire corner of the soccer field practicing it. I braced for impact as she refused to pull out of her dive.

We hit the ground at breakneck speed, or we would have, had my orb not been below us. Instead, it absorbed the grass and the dirt, drilling down deep into the earth to carve out an underground tube for us to fit. Arial rapidly decelerated, reaching a stop fifteen feet down then bobbing like a cork back to just below the surface. Far below, the orb waited, still under my control, bits of dirt flaking off the tunnel wall to join its mass, each addition making it heavier and more difficult to maintain.

We held our breath, only feet away from the back door but still underground, obscured by a row of bushes that ran in front of the window. Inside, we could hear voices and conversations, the words clearly distinguishable through the thin glass pane.

“Success,” breathed Arial as we hovered in the hole.

“Right, but we’re short on time,” I answered, my voice strained. "Not sure how long I can hold this."

“Why is that?”

“Hear that trickling? We cut through a water pipe on the way down, and that’s getting pulled into my sphere. The water’s getting heavier each second. I give us two minutes.”

Chapter 11

“This is against all protocols and an absurd breach of police power, Lacit,” came the voice from inside, one I recognized as Roland, the police chief who had arrested Siri in the subway a few weeks back. “You’ve practically stripped the paint from the walls.”

“Because you were a role model, weren’t you, Roland?” drawled the second voice, one I recognized as the leader from the raid on James’ house. Lacit. “Your history says otherwise, and that’s just what’s been recorded. There are plenty of gaps. Gaps that I could inquire about, that may not be gaps at all, but rather intentional snippets cut from the record books.”

“Threaten all you want,” growled Roland, “but you’ve torn this house apart. People are going to start to notice.”

“When you look for something that is very difficult to find, thoroughness is imperative, another quality that you have been shown to lack. They should notice, Roland. That’s the entire point. I want to know who among them cries the loudest when they see, for those are our enemies.”

“They wouldn’t have been our enemies yesterday,” Roland retorted, and I heard cabinets creaking as he closed them.

“And if you were chief, you could still decide that. But need I remind you that you’ve been stripped of the position? That you begged to come with me tonight? And now you criticize my work after you have failed so spectacularly. Perhaps it is now time for you to watch and notice, instead of crying to yourself.”

Roland was quiet for a moment, though the silence bore more weight than words. Then he spoke.

“You’ll regret this. The people will not be silent.”

“And that is the problem I seek to change,” stated Lacit, his voice cold and firm. “But on regrets, I know yours, Roland. One specific one, not involving another life but another death.”

“That was an accident.” Roland’s voice came quick but thin.

“Tell that to the small coffin,” sneered Lacit, the words meant to rip Roland. “Now we act with no room for error. So if you’ve had any sort of hand in this, contacting your Hunter or any others who might be of aid, pull away. Our method is just as important as our outcome. And through our method, we teach the public who holds the power. We must give them no leverage.”

Additional footsteps entered the room at that moment, accompanied by the creaking of a door.

“Results?” inquired Lacit before the feet had a chance to stop.

“Nothing, sir,” came the response, the voice horse. “No signs at all anywhere in the house.”

“A pity. Then our search shall continue. As expected, it’s proving difficult to find what isn’t there, though there are always other options. You do realize this is the reason I was sent here, Roland? To find this missing piece, this bartering chip. With or without it, we will move forward, but much easier with it. It’s in your best interest to help, for once I find it, I’ll be gone.”

“Gone where?” asked Roland, his voice suspicious, “and for what?”

“Allow me to explain. When I was a child, Roland, I did not share my abilities—not because they were weak, but because they were strong. We were poor, my family, through no fault of their own. Regulars. My father had inherited his father’s debt after the bastard perished, the red numbers on balance sheets all that he had left us. Those that were wealthy came calling often, men and women who could raze our house with the lift of a finger. Demanding money under the threat of death that was siphoned from our meals, that let the rain trickle through our roof, that made my father’s hair grey before I had lost my baby teeth. And I convinced myself that to use my power would make me just like them, his tormentors. The collectors.

“Each year, their calls became more common as our debt was passed down to more callous hands, and their methods turned more harsh. When I was twelve, one left a burn on my father so terrible that the scar never left him. Of course, it only had two years to heal, because they killed him when I was fourteen.

“Even my father was unaware of my abilities until that day, when one hand held him choking against the wall, the powered strength lifting him as if he were made of feathers. I hit the aggressor with our cooking pot then, screaming in rage, knocking the man away. His accomplice showered the room with lightning in retaliation, one of the streamers finding my father’s heart and stopping it cold. I still remember their eyes widening as I called my power forth for the first time, and how they fled before me, scrambling to escape. But despite my strength, my father was gone. Their bodies were little comfort.

“Perhaps, had I acted sooner, the results would be quite different.”

Lacit cleared his throat, pausing, and I heard a glass drop heavily upon the table.

“That day, I learned the value of power, Roland. How I no longer was a step above a beggar—that such an attribute within myself changed the entire world. Those who would spit upon me now welcomed me with open arms, and just as the physical world bent beneath my fingers, so too did the societal one. I learned my lesson the hardest way possible, that power molds this world, and left untouched leads only to the clay being shaped in ways most unfortunate, then fired so it can never be undone.

“To answer your question, I leave to chase a new power, as uncertain as this search we currently hold. But should it be true—well, there are those who push us now like my father was pushed when I was a child. Either they will be molded or we will.”

“So you’ll answer me with stories and riddles, then?” said Roland after the leader finished. “What, are you seeking certain Specials to recruit to your side?”

“Something like that,” said Lacit, the smile coming through to his voice.

In the pit outside, I felt my grasp on the black orb faltering as it began to vibrate, growing too heavy for me to hold. The trickle of water had become too much.

“Arial,” I whispered, my voice strained, “we have to go.”

“Now?” she asked with a slight annoyance.

“Now, or else the explosion will shoot us out of here like a cannon. Hurry!”

She leapt into the air as we left the voices behind, and seconds later, the explosion sounded below us, throwing clumps of dirt high into the air and making police sirens wail. Bushes now decorated the yard with their roots facing upwards, and the windows of the house had shattered inward with the shockwave.

As we sped away, the door of the kitchen flung open, and two figures rushed out onto the lawn. By now, they were tiny, too far away to make out their appearances. They peered right and left, then upwards, searching.

But we were already a pinprick in the sky, a speck of darkness among the stars.

Chapter 12

“Where is he?” my mother hissed when only Lucio and Slugger arrived at breakfast, rubbing their eyes with sleepy confusion. They were silent, staring across a plate of steaming pancakes, Lucio’s fork paused halfway to the stack. After a moment's hesitation, he started moving the utensil forwards again at a snail’s pace, then froze as my mother slapped it away. He recovered with a flourish that fooled no one, and set the fork back down on a napkin.

“Well?” she demanded, her eyes daring them to disturb the serving plates.

“Well, don’t look at me,” protested Lucio, still eyeing the pancakes. “If I knew, you’d have a fresh set of memories by now. At least I cover my tracks.”

“And you?” Her gaze swiveled to Slugger, who shrugged.

“I’m just as surprised as you are, Miss, though neither of us actually should be. Seems to be a habit, no?”

“Well, no breakfast until I get the truth,” she retorted, pulling the plates away as they grimaced, Lucio’s face particularly devastated. “Now, where would he be?”

Lucio’s expression fell further as she whipped away the plate full of bacon, and her mood turned livid as she searched my quarters, finding the note I had left on my covers.

“At the library, doing some research. Back after dinner, might be running errands.”

“By dinner?” she spat, the note falling to the floor. “And errands? I expressly forbade that; we have to stay hidden. You heard me loud and clear, did you not? I did say that, did I not?”

“Yes, ma’am,” chirped Slugger and Lucio together, sharing a look between each other. I had informed neither of the note I had written the night before when I returned, or of my current location where Arial had carried me as they slept, high above them, lying on top of a ventilation pipe with nothing but a coil of rope for company, and trying not to think of the distance between myself and the floor. Even if they were to look directly at me, I would be hidden by shadow and there was no reason for them to suspect my position.

“Well then, get dressed!” my mother snapped. “We’re going at once. Lucio, get your hands away from that bacon; nobody’s eating until we return. Nobody. Let’s go!”

I held my breath as I watched them trudge out of the tunnel, my face hidden in shadow as Lucio cast one final despairing look behind him. There, neatly settled on the counter, was a full breakfast. One that no one would likely notice had been touched if a pancake went missing, or a slice of bacon untangled from its home. My own stomach growled as I stared at it, but instead I waited, keeping a careful watch, grateful that Arial and I had come up with the plan on our return.

For the breakfast was bait. And unattended, it would be irresistible. Far more irresistible than a few stolen granola bars to a parasite scavenging our food supply.

For five minutes, nothing moved, and I pushed aside the doubt that had started to grow inside my chest. But then I saw it, a flicker so slight that I wasn’t sure if it had been movement at all. Like a shadow, or mist, or an indentation on space itself. A shimmer that danced across the floor, coming to rest just before the plates on the countertop and pausing for what seemed like ages. Like a shadow with nowhere to fall.

Then the illusion broke, and someone stepped out of the shimmering, casting a look left and right before lumping food hastily on a nearby plate. And just as quickly as the person arrived, they disappeared, swallowed up into the air itself, and glided away as if they had never arrived. But not before I recognized them.

I counted to ten, then dropped the coil, where it dangled just a foot above the ground. Hand over hand, I climbed downwards in silence, my eyes on the space the shimmering had fled, a corner of the subway just behind my mother’s living area. Once my feet reached the ground, I turned to the spot where I could best guess the figure hid, and I spoke, my voice level.

“I understand hiding—I’ve hidden before, because I’ve been afraid. But down here, there’s no one to be afraid of. We mean you no harm. Above, that’s where your fear should be. They’re looking for you, scouring the suburbs, ripping homes apart.”

I waited, watching for a change or movement, but saw nothing. Then I continued.

“It would be easy for me to tell them you’re down here,” I stated, letting the sentence linger but still eliciting no response. So I spoke one more time, letting the name hang in the air.

“Lola.”

And an inch in front of my nose, another face materialized from nothingness, the furious eyes staring deep into my own.

Chapter 13

I leapt backwards as a hand caught me by the shirt—and not the outside, but the inside, the fingers holding the fabric from the direction of my chest. Looking down, it appeared as if her arm was cut off by the wrist, passing directly through my pocket to emerge on the other side.

“How long have you known?” she asked, knuckles against my skin, “and who have you told?”

“How long have you been here?” I answered with my own question, holding my ground now that the surprise had worn off. All too well I remembered Lola’s ability as a Transient, allowing her to jump in and out of reality like a ghost, reducing the tangibility of her body at will. The last time I’d seen her fight, she’d nearly driven her semi-solid fist straight through her opponent’s head. The same fist that now rested just above my heart, and made the hairs on the back of my neck prick up. “And you lied to Linns at the academy about your strength. You faked your aptitude test.”

“As if you didn’t,” she scoffed, tossing her hair with a shake of her head, the strands appearing translucent, “Being a Transient has taught me that it is often optimal to be innocuous, which was flawlessly working down here, until you decided to snoop. Should have minded your own business. You had no right.”

“You live in my house,” I said, incredulous. “Blame Lucio—his stomach was what clued us in. Now why are you here?”

“I’m hiding, just like you, except I’m actually adept at it.” She released my shirt and took a step backwards, her eyes still suspicious. “I’d rather not be ushered into a new rehabilitation facility, or something even more wretched. Down here is the best living I’ve had a year.” She shook her head, her eyes becoming hollow. “To think I’d say that about a sewer. Abhorrent.”

“All you had to do was ask; we’re already a misfit bunch,” I answered, pointedly ignoring her last comment. “Especially because if they’re looking for you, we would have been surprised too if they found you.”

“Can’t find me if they can’t see me,” she said and disappeared completely, leaving me staring at only empty space. I shivered as I felt something move through me, tugging slightly at the edges of my skin, then my internals, a uniform pull that felt as if water was flowing through me. Then her voice came from behind me. “And if they do find me, they’ll have an arduous time boxing me in.”

“Don’t-don’t do that again,” I said, unnerved, turning to face her, “You didn’t just scramble anything, did you?”

“No, but a lesser Transient would have,” she answered, nose in the air. “You’re fortunate.”

“Just how, er, strong would Instructor Linns have classified you?” I asked.

“Remember the trick he mentioned about shadows?” she said, raising an arm and making it disappear above the elbow, the bone and muscle showing at the joint. “I lack the faintest trace of one. That should be your indicator.”

I swallowed and stared at the ground, where just above her elbow her shadow showed only a stump, cut off as if it had been amputated.

“Is that why the police are searching for you? Do they want your power?”

“Likely that plays a small role, but likely no.” She started walking away, back to the breakfast table, and loaded up a second plate. Now that she had been found, she could afford to be more generous. “They want me because of my value. My mother brought me to this city, and she was killed in a car crash only a few weeks later. I lived. Crushing metal can only do so much when there is nothing present to crush. But my grandmother would pay dearly to have me back, and they know that.”

“So they kidnapped you for the rehabilitation facility? For money?”

“In essence, yes, but all that glitters is not gold. I’d consider the facility more of a holding cell. It would have worked, if Siri’s singing had proved effective. I noticed you were of the few who could escape it.”

“And how did you?”

“Can’t hear anything,” she said and pointed to the side of her face, “if you don’t have any ears.”

And where they should have been, they had disappeared, her hair obscuring the holes that now cut into the side of her head where they had been. I avoided looking directly through the strands, knowing underneath I’d be able to see more than I wanted. Then they popped back, and she shook her hair, clearing it away in a shimmer.

“Clever,” I muttered, the facts aligning themselves in my mind. “But anyways, you can stay, now that we know who you are? And you’ve been here ever since we closed the tunnel?”

“Since before. I saw what happened with Peregrine. I know what you can do, but I also know what you dare not do. You could have disintegrated him, but rather, you let him push you until you had no choice but to strike him down. And even then, I’d classify it more as an accident.”

Ice washed over me as she cast a knowing glance, and I paused before speaking again.

“Then it seems like we have no secrets to share with you. You though, still have many for us.”

“It’s in my nature to keep things hidden. If you don’t agree to that, then I’ll leave. Or at least you’ll think I’ve left. Who’s to know?” She did little to conceal her smile, and again I felt a shiver. “But a similarity of ours is our lack of action. I prefer to be a body at rest. As do you.”

I frowned at that, guilt nagging me as I thought of the inaction over the last few weeks. But what did she expect me to do, start blasting holes in the nearest police station? Interrogate those who I could find? I pushed the thoughts away, realizing she was waiting, and spoke.

“Fine, so long as your secrets don’t put us in any danger. But I do have one condition then, if you’ll be staying. It’s going to sound weird.”

“Name it,” she said, arching a brow.

“We’re going to need one of your socks.”

Chapter 14

“You’re letting her stay?” Lucio’s voice came out shaking as he gasped through the words, his face paling to eggshell. “Are you insane? Need me to plant some memories in your head of just what she is capable of?”

“Lucio, we spent plenty of time with her at school and nothing happened then. Besides, if she was going to harm us, she had ample time,” I answered, trying to brush him off.

“Yeah, but that was different—we blended in with everyone else! We don’t even know how many of her there are! What if she has dozens of other friends here?” He shivered, his eyes darting towards the shadows.

“Right, because dozens of them subsisted off the food that you barely knew was missing.” I sighed.

“If they’re made of almost nothing, then maybe they eat almost nothing!”

“She had no problem demolishing the bacon before we got back,” remarked Slugger, leaning against his baseball bat and watching my mother as she fretted over Lola’s clothes, “You’re getting twisted over nothing, lad.”

It had been an hour since my mother had returned, and my her fury had been immediately forgotten, or at least postponed, the instant she met Lola. Her instinct kicked in to mirror the first week when she had met Lucio and Slugger, when she had spent hours shopping for them at thrift stores and loading them down with necessary toiletries.

“Besides,” I continued, holding up the sock that Lola had given me, “there aren’t many people who are missing from the rehabilitation facility besides her, and none match what the police are looking to find. Now we should be able to find out. Then we can determine why.”

“SC!” called my mother from Lola’s side, and I walked over as she stuffed a shopping list into her purse. “We’ll be shopping for your new friend—these rags, pardon me, dearie, are not befitting of a woman. We’ll be back by dinner, so have the kitchen cleaned by then. We’ll be picking up textbooks too—your expedition to the library has reminded me that your education should not be put on hold, and your class size has just grown by one member!”

I heard Lucio groan behind me, and Slugger cursed under his breath. They’d been enjoying the break from forced knowledge.

“Until then,” she said, raising an eyebrow and continuing, “stay here and wait for our return. I don’t need another near heart attack.”

They left, and for ten full minutes, we obeyed my mother, frantically cleaning the kitchen. But then we were off, Lucio leading us at a run, as we returned to the same dilapidated apartment that we had left Darian's scent. We were still panting when Olef led us to the living room, perhaps more aptly named the unlivable room in this case, and returned to the kitchen, where we could hear whistling.

“Tea?” he asked, brandishing the kettle, rust creeping up the edges. “Help yourselves to the biscuits anyways; they’re fresh.”

I wrinkled my nose at the plate he set down in front of us, flies buzzing away from the rock-hard pastries, and held up a hand.

“Just had lunch, though we do appreciate it. We came asking for a favor.”

“Already have one favor I’m doing for you,” he started, dropping a tea bag into his mug and drawing in a large breath to sniff the leaves. Then his nostrils flared and he froze, eyes widening as his gaze leapt over us.

“New smells,” he demanded, tea forgotten and his breath coming quick. “What are your new smells? Where are they?”

“You mean this?” I asked, raising Lola’s sock into the air.

Olef made a grab for it with a claw-like hand, but I danced backwards, letting it dangle just out of his reach.

“Not yet! Besides, it’s worthless to you now—the police are cancelling the bounty they gave you. But we’re still interested in the information.”

“Cancelling it?” whined Olef. “Boy, if we still get a lead to them on time, then there will be enough cash for ten years’ rent!”

“If it’s for this place, you’re sorely underpaid,” murmured Slugger, but Olef was still focused on the sock.

“Well, we don’t have any leads, just the sock,” I said, balling it up and putting it back into my pocket, “but we do have a deal for you. We think that even though the police are cancelling the bounty, one among them might still be interested in speaking with us. Is Roland your contact?”

Olef nodded, and I smiled.

“Tell him you have information, then. Ransom it for however much you wish, and we’ll be waiting. It’s time we met up with him. But first, what information did they give you on the owner?”

“I don’t get information. I only get smells,” responded Olef, still looking disappointed, “but I’ll salvage whatever cash I can out of this. Even a quarter of the original price would be worth it.”

“Good. Arrange the meeting, and Lucio will be in contact with you from our end. Don’t let Roland know he’ll be meeting anyone else than yourself—and trust me, he should still be very interested.”

I turned to leave, but Olef spoke behind me, stopping us in our tracks.

“Speaking of rewards, boy, you owe me mine. I found the owner of your smell. Or I’ve come close.”

Chapter 15

“Whelp, that’s him,” Olef said, inhaling deeply as we watched from the bushes. “I’ll be taking that second half now.”

“That’s absolutely not him,” countered Lucio, crumbling leaves under his foot. “Olef, my friend group doesn’t have a middle-aged balding man in it. Yet, at least. You met Darian, you should know.”

“Maybe, but what I can tell you is that he’s got his smell all over him. Likely stays at the same place, or spends lots of time together.”

“The hell?” whispered Lucio. “There’s no way Darian is a buddy with that.”

The man in question was across the parking lot and through a pane of glass, sitting with his back to us. He wore a suit that might have been fashionable two decades before, the fading colors barely clinging to the fabric, and the sizing indicating he had lost considerable weight since its creation. Above him a barber paused, his scissors hovering in the air, his expression puzzled. For though the man waited patiently, there was hardly enough hair to justify a trimming, and those that did exist were so sparse, they could be handled individually.

“I want my second half,” demanded Olef, shifting his weight from where we were crouched. “A deal’s a deal, and I found the smell.”

“Not until we find Darian; that was the deal,” declared Lucio, “I’ll contact you.”

“You better,” said Olef and emerged from the bushes, brushing off his shirt as he left, the appearance seeming even worse without debris to hide the stains, “because nothing gets my nose going like unpaid debts.”

Eventually, the barber gave up, directing the man back to the counter, where he paid and left through the front door, the bell on the frame announcing his departure. The man turned right and ambled down the street, appearing in no particular rush.

“Let’s split up. You tail him, and I’ll talk to the barber,” I said to Lucio. “Slugger, come fetch me once you find out his destination. I’m thinking we might have to investigate deeper. Try not to be seen or identified.”

“Deal,” said Lucio, “though with these hoodies, there’s no way they’ll know who we are.”

We split, and I entered the shop, the open door summoning the barber from the back with a bell.

“Basic trim?” he asked, straightening his apron and gesturing to an open seat. “Or are we looking for the works? Could take care of that stubble for you.”

“Neither, actually,” I answered, leaning against the counter. “I was hoping you could answer a few questions about your last customer. He’s my friend’s dad, but my friend’s been missing for a month.”

“Eh, I think you’ve got the wrong person,” said the barber, frowning as he realized he’d be making no sale. “Donny’s a regular here. No family to speak of; says he lives alone. Weirdest customer I’ve ever seen, though.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s him. How so?”

“Stops in here twice a week, every week. Hasn’t missed a Tuesday or Friday since he appeared.”

“Wait, you just let him sit there and cut almost nothing twice a week?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.

“What can I say? He’s my main profit center!” responded the barber, patting his pocket. “Practically keeping this place afloat. I’m not going to turn him away. Doesn’t tip worth a damn, but comes here often enough I don’t mind.”

“Anything else you have on him?” I squinted, doing my best to look suspicious, hoping the barber might be hiding something.

“Nothing. But shouldn’t you know, if he’s who you think?”

“Guess I was wrong!” I said sheepishly as the barber raised an eyebrow. “But anyways, thanks for your help!”

I darted out the door before he could ask more questions, and followed the general direction that Lucio had taken. Seconds later, I spotted Slugger beelining towards me and motioning to follow.

The residence we arrived at was only three blocks down and Lucio was already peering inside. The home was massive—the barber shop was placed on the outskirts of the city, where suburbs were just starting to sprout up, but this home was in prime business territory. The plot of land for its driveway alone likely cost more than an entire house just a few blocks away, but more impressive was the ornamentation—the house was old but well built. Adorned with columns of marble and decorative statues that perched atop the roof, a wrought-iron fence, and enormous windows that displayed features of the interior ranging from life-size paintings to a kitchen decorated with shining appliances.

Lucio’s eyes were on the kitchen, where the man could be seen through the windows, only the top of his head visible as he sliced apples on a cutting board. He wrapped them individually, then prepared sandwiches before placing those in brown bags, and writing names on them with a marker. Behind him, a door opened and a woman entered, a necklace encrusted with diamonds flashing as she caught his attention, and her voice just audible through the glass.

“Donny, when you’re finished, the upstairs needs vacuuming.  Sally has piano lessons tonight, so I want the grand to be dusted, and don’t forget the laundry tonight. Take your time folding them. I spent this morning ironing out the creases yesterday which simply will not do.”

“Of course, Ma’am,” Donny answered, bowing his head. “Whatever you ask.”

She opened the door to leave, but he spoke up again right before she exited.

“Anything else you have to say, Ma’am?”

“About?”

“Just asking.”

“No, that’s all,” she said curtly, shaking her head as he continued to prepare the lunches. But one of the brown bags now was crushed under his palm, and the second slowly succumbed to a closed fist.

Chapter 16

“No wonder he hasn’t returned. Looks like Darian’s moving right up in the world. Straight from bench to first string by the looks of it. And the butler would smell like him, if he lives here. Probably kisses his ass for breakfast.” Slugger looked upwards, scanning the windows that would be the bedrooms, searching for a familiar face.

“You’d be right, if he lives here,” Lucio answered, “But I haven’t seen him yet.”

“And I don’t think he does,” I said, squinting as Donny repacked the lunch bags then wrote a name across each. Sally. Mathis. Andrew. “See? He doesn’t have a lunch.”

“Well, ah, that would be odd,” said Slugger, “If he found himself a benefactor, lunch should be in the deal.”

“Darian was never one for sticking around,” Lucio remarked, his face still suspicious, stepping back to get a better view of the house. “Even if he would fall in love with somewhere as nice as this, he wouldn’t fit. I think something else is going on.”

“So we nab the butler?” suggested Slugger, his voice almost hopeful as they both looked towards me.

“We nab the butler,” I confirmed, and we fell back to make plans.

***

We waited three hours for him to depart, suffering through the majority of it listening to Sally practicing scales on the piano, though it sounded more like dropping bird chimes onto an active highway. We were well hidden from view of the house—the bench we occupied was shrouded by a lower hedge, making us only visible from the street. Fortunately, the day was chilly, so we wore our hoodies, concealing our faces while we pretended to consult a two-day-old newspaper that Lucio had fetched.

“I don’t think it would be possible for us to look more out of place,” I said as a shining car rolled past, the windows tinted, and the chauffeur giving us a raised eyebrow.

“That’s where you’re wrong, SC,” countered Slugger. “These rich folks have all sorts of servants; they’re practically outnumbered. We blend right in and even give them a reason to peer down their noses. I call that a win-win.”

“We look more homeless than servants,” said Lucio, “and I guarantee you I’m the last person you would want doing your dishes. I reckon I caused more harm than good with my chores at the rehabilitation facility. Malicious compliance is my specialty.”

“Homeless? Then you should feel natural, eh?” prodded Slugger, and Lucio prepared a sharp response just before I cut him off with a hand. He stopped, following my gaze to where the Donny had just exited the building and was idling away, consulting a small list he carried on folded paper. We checked that our hoods were tight, waited for him to have a minute’s head start, then followed, our sneakers silent as we darted across concrete.

“First dead end alley without cars,” I hissed as we drew closer. “Got it, Lucio?”

“Oh, I got it. Dropped his wallet down there?”

“Should work perfectly. Slugger, I’ll need you to make that alley have just one car, right at the entrance.”

“Aye, shouldn’t be a problem.”

“And we’re live! Action!” exclaimed Lucio, his face blurred in concentration, as the butler ahead slowed. He checked his back pocket, his fingers searching for a wallet that wasn’t there—that had, in fact, never been there but in the memory that Lucio broadcasted to him. Then he turned right, his eyes on the ground and scanning, searching for the lost article.

Lucio and I ducked behind him, stopping as the butler turned around, his face confused. Behind us, Slugger lifted a parked car and dropped it just in front of the exit, bouncing it on its hydraulics as it blocked any escape. Then he picked up a moped in his right hand, brandishing it like a club as he climbed over the car, waving it with nearly no effort from the handles.

“I’m warning you once to back off,” warned Donny, his voice low as fire erupted up his arms, racing up to his elbows, then stopping in a pair of twin whips that drifted towards the ground. “Whatever it is that you want, you won’t be getting it without a fight.”

“You’re outnumbered,” I said, the words coming hard, my face shadowed in the hood, “And outmatched.”

Two dark orbs leapt into existence above my palms, growing in size as I fed them the contents of a nearby dumpster. Slamming them down in front of me, they distorted the visual field between us as they warped space itself, twisting reality to conform to their shape. Then they carved out asphalt as I slid them across the ground towards Donny, letting them release menacing explosions of light from their surface that danced at his feet before he could leap backwards.

“Damn, I should’ve known. Just can’t keep to yourselves, can you?” He sighed, slinging off the twin fire whips and dropping them into the orb in front of him, where the darkness absorbed the flames. “Go ahead and lose the hoods. I’ll do the same.”

Lucio tilted his head, watching as Donny reached a hand towards his face, then seemed to wipe it away as if scrubbing at a dirty dish. His skin folded inward, morphing as cheekbones changed while hair erupted out of his scalp. Gone were the wrinkles and the moles, the crow’s feet and the sagging bags under the eyes. In their place was a face we all knew.

“This what you’re looking for?” sighed an annoyed Darian, pointing to himself. “Because you’ve found it.”

Chapter 17

“What the hell? So we did all that fighting to get you out of being a servant, just so you could hop back into it? Is this where you’ve been, pretending to be some rich family’s assistant instead of checking back in with us?” Lucio’s words left his mouth in a flurry, shocked, while Darian flinched backwards.

“Lucio, calm down. It’s not like that. I can explain,” he said, backing away.

“Well, you better!” Lucio exclaimed, throwing his hands in the air. “Because this is outright insane. How could you forget about us?”

“Let’s start with the haircut schedule for baldy,” I added, “and move on from there.”

“Alright, relax,” Darian said, his face fallen. “And, SC, put the orbs away before you draw the attention of the neighborhood watch. You can’t just go whipping out powers here without expecting people to notice. I’m surprised we haven’t been spotted already.”

With a motion of my hand, they retracted and I decreased their size, holding them hidden by my hip. Then Darian took a deep breath and leaned back against the wall before starting to speak.

“As you know, I can hold powers for a limited time. The fresher they are, the more potent and easier they are for me to use. The Specials on this side of town don’t just go to any barber, no, they’re too good for that. They go to a Special barber. Meaning that before your hair is cut, he can show you exactly what it’s going to look like with his own power. He’s a Morpher, so he can change to look just like you with the hairstyle that you want, then once you approve, he’ll bring it to life. To be Donny, I had to refresh the power every few days, and the barber was my source. Every time he cut my hair, I mimicked him, and he was happy to take the money.”

“Why’d you have to pretend to be Donny? Why go to the barber in the first place?” asked Lucio, impatient.

“Getting there, getting there. Anyways, that house you saw me leaving needed new help, so I became Donny and applied. The job was pretty easy to get, with fake credentials, and honestly, I’m surprised they haven’t kicked me out yet. Didn’t stop them before.”

“And what do you mean by that?” Lucio pressed, turning his head to the side.

“I tried visiting a few weeks ago as myself, and I didn’t make it far. They’re pretty… uptight there. They care a lot about who you are and where you’re from. About your pedigree. And I just didn't fit the bill. Never have, never will. And neither will Donny, once they start finding out more about him.”

“Yeah, but why do you care what some rich people think about you? This is pretty strange, Darian. And I’m supposed to be the weird one,” said Lucio. Darian looked him directly in the eye, his gaze level.

“Because they’re my parents.”

For a second, all was silent, and Lucio stood slack-jawed, at a loss for words since the beginning of the conversation.

“Where do you think I always want to go, Lucio? I found the orphan papers years ago from my old supervisor when she told me the tale of my Mimic power, so I knew the address. I’ve watched them, my parents, caring for my siblings. Sending them to the best schools. With packed lunches. Teaching them piano and reading to them before bed.”

He swallowed, his throat tight, kicked at an rusty can my orbs had pulled near his feet, and kept speaking.

“But no, I came along first, years before any of them. Me. When my mother had an affair with one of the servants, and neither of my parents could stand to have me in the house. So they gave me away. I thought maybe it would be different, now that I’m older. And I came back, hoping that maybe I’d be a part of the family now, after the rehabilitation facility. Instead, they practically threw me to the streets. You should have heard them arguing, my father yelling they should have never let me be born. I felt that if they just knew me, that maybe they would change their minds. That they would realize that I was a son they wanted.

“So I became Donny. I thought maybe I could learn to be like them, to live with them without them knowing. I tried to mesh in, doing their chores, caring for my snot-nosed siblings. Listening to my bitch of a mother complain about shirt creases. Cleaning up the empty beer bottles my father hides before bed. But it isn’t working. Not at all.”

His fingers clenched, and he bit the inside of his cheek.

“And I don’t think it ever will. Because I don’t want to be like them anymore.”

“You don’t have to,” I said, reaching across and putting a hand on his shoulder, "You've got us instead."

Chapter 18

“Come on, let’s go.” I said. “You’re better than them, Darian. We know it and you know it. And you’ll have far more purpose with us. So what’s it going to be?”

Darian paused, casting a glance back towards the house, biting his cheek again. Lucio spoke up, his tone completely changed since Darian’s revelation.

“Darian has a better ring to it than Donny. And you’ll like it. SC’s mother cooks a mean breakfast. Especially if I give her some false memories about how much bacon we need; one day, we had a pound each! And you should have seen the leaning tower of pancake day!”

Slugger set the moped down on its side with a soft crunch. Then he picked up the can that Darian had kicked and placed it in the other boy’s hand.

“Before my ma passed, she left me a piece of advice about why we left Ireland. About why we came here. You see, her whole life was there—or it used to be. Her dead parents, my asshole of a father, her sister that stole the family inheritance.”

Slugger reached forwards and touched the can, the metal starting to press down in Darian’s hand as it grew heavier.

“Everything she knew and everything she loved was there. Some of it was true and wonderful, but most of it was shit. And shit gets heavy, because shit builds up. Shit don’t clean itself.”

He touched the can again, and Darian’s bicep began to strain.

“But for some reason, it seems to be the last thing that we want to let go of. It pulls us down, and we have two options. Leave the shit behind or it’ll pull you under.”

He tapped the can again, and it slipped through Darian’s fingers, slamming against the ground in a shriek of metal. The ground shook and the concrete cracked, while the can itself flattened to the thickness of a nickel.

“That’s what she said to me when I suggested I go home to find my father. She was in the hospital at the time, must have been one of her last breaths. And the very last thing she wanted was for me  to return to him after her death. I think she’d say the same to you now. Besides, we’ve got what the baddies want, and my instinct prevents me from utilizing every possible source of power to piss on their parade.”

Darian looked downwards at the can and smiled, shaking his head.

“Slugger, for being such a asshole, you’ve got a way with words. I’m in.”

We laughed, and Darian stepped forwards.

“And you’re just going to leave me out of this?” Lucio pried. “No words for me? No I’m so excited you’re back, Lucio, and thanks for finding me?”

“Someone has to keep you from getting too carried away,” said Darian. “I think I’m the right one for the job.”

“Yes! And you know what job you’re also right for? Actor Number 2! With Lola, that brings my total cast up to five. Sure, the talent might be lacking, but with the right filming techniques, we can cover that right up. By the time we hit the festival—”

“Lucio, no, we have a lot more to worry about than a film.” I stated, and we started our way home, Slugger shoving the car that he had used to block the alley aside as if it were made of cardboard. “Besides, Darian, we’ll need to catch you up. Our team has grown.”

We spoke as we walked, filling him in on the details. It took the entire trip to the subway to bring him up to speed, and it was only as we descended that he started asking questions.

“So we’ll plan a rendezvous with Roland, then? Figure out what the police want with Lola? Assuming she won’t tell you, of course.”

“You can try to crack her, but it didn’t sound like she wanted to share.”

“Well, considering that she’s right on our doorstep, seems like a good place to start. Call me crazy, but I don’t see Roland being excited to see you.”

“I think you might be surprised. He’s less than happy with his current situation,” I responded.

As promised, my mother arrived at dinner time, her eyes widening as she took in Darian and she placed a palm against her forehead.

“Every time I turn around, you multiply. Child, did you travel to the past for those clothes? Looks like tomorrow I’ll be shopping again. Alright, everyone come here, we’ll need proper introductions. Lola, tonight you’ll be in my room until yours is set aside. Newcomer, you’ll share with Star Child.”

“Darian,” he said. “And thank you for the hospitality.”

“It’s nothing, dear, nothing at all. The least I can do.”

“You’d be surprised,” he muttered as my mother gestured for Lola to speak.

“Lola, though you all already know me. I’m just here until I can secure passage for my way home, and that might be a while. SC mentioned it, but there are those who want to find me—those who want to prevent me from going back.”

My mother sighed, turned to the stove, and started dinner.

“One problem at a time, one at a time. Starting with how I’m going to feed all of you.”

Chapter 19

“So… Lola,” Darian said, the words hanging. We were huddled around the television again, our increased count throwing off the group dynamic. Almost no one had spoken in the past half hour, though the questions were heavy in the air.

“So… Darian,” she answered as she snacked on a handful of peanuts, a mortified Lucio watching from the other end of couch as she separated the nuts from the shells. She accomplished this by poking her index finger through the shell until the nut popped out the other side, the morsel seeming to materialize into the air. When she was finished, the shell was still whole and indistinguishable from an unopened one except for its weight.

While we slouched, she sat up straight, making her taller than us despite her mousy appearance. Though we had claimed the couches and she had joined us afterward, her posture made it feel as if we were invading her space. As she ate, she cast no glances at us—pointedly ignoring us, as if we were beneath her attention. Instead, she read a book in her lap, one thick enough to be a brick. When Slugger had asked the title, she simply pursed her lips and flipped the page, then continued reading.

“Since I seem to have missed your grand entrance, what’s your story?” Darian asked when she did no more than acknowledge him.

“Darian, if you’re curious, you just have to say it. You don’t have to hide it. Of course the rest of you put him up to this to try to be clever. So, my story. My narrative. You want the unraveling, a synopsis in under a thousand nights?” she asked, still reading.

“Yeah.”

“All the minute details of why I’m here?” she continued, and flipped another page.

“Yes, those would do.”

“And my origination as well?”

“Well, they would go together,” he said, refusing to show impatience on his expression, though frustration carried through his voice.

“I would too,” she said and sat backwards, snapping the book shut and blowing a strand of hair out of her eyes. “Well, I know most of it, of course. But there are parts I don’t know. Parts that you can find out for me. Let’s start with those, then we can trade bits and pieces of my history. Sound fair?”

“Not exactly, considering it’s your history.” Darian stated, but she rolled her eyes.

“And there’s three of you, so the exchange rate of information is three times higher! Every three things you tell me, I’ll give you one.”

“How, what—”

“After all, that’s how theaters work. Pay per ticket. Most theaters have a trailer as well, so I’ll provide a free tidbit to elicit your imagination. One detail to rev the creative engine. You get to hear where I’m from.” She drew a breath, staring around and meeting our eyes. Waiting.

“And? Or do we need to get the crowbar to pry it out?” asked Slugger while Lola scowled at him.

“I’m from the Amazon,” she said, then curtsyed, backing away to leave us. “Keep that in mind, SC, it’s especially important for you!”

“And why is that?” I asked, not liking her tone.

“Because you’re the one who’s going to get me back,” she said with a smile.

She gestured behind us to a part of the subway that we had given its own room. An enclosure covered in dust, since it had been weeks after the last time it had been disturbed, when I had given up trying to maneuver the tunnels and rips of space into place and had left the portals of Peregrine’s teleportation project in a dark static leading to nowhere.

***

“Well, what all do we know since our new favorite friend has given us nothing to work with?” asked Darian, leaning forwards on the couch.

“Not much.” I grimaced. “A few clues and far between. The cops want Lola, but for what, we’re not too sure. She probably only has a vague idea too and wants us to confirm it. And the cops don’t care much about me anymore, but they never really did—only the Hunter did.”

“We’ve got a meeting with Roland soon!” Lucio added. “Waiting on the word from Olef. Should be a nice surprise for him, a chance to make some more memories.”

“But before then,” I said, turning to face Darian, “there’s something else we need. The police mentioned they were looking into a myth. And now, with you, we can too.”

“You’re thinking of what?” asked Darian. “You lost me already.”

“Not a problem. But what I do need to know is if you can still use your Morpher powers.”

“There’s still some left. I’d say about two days before it starts wearing away. Morpher powers rely on skill and those fade quicker. So whatever you’re thinking, it needs to happen soon.”

“Think you can do it to me too? Or rather, us?”

“It’s difficult, but I can try. You’ll need to stay close to me—go too far away and it’ll melt right off you,” he answered, testing the power by rubbing his fingers on his nose and extending it a half inch. When he let go, it sprang back into place, wobbling slightly, but still able to be altered.

“Good. And fortunately for you, Lucio can fill in the gaps where your power falters. Now, for the first time in weeks,” I said, then laughed and puffed out my chest, “I have a plan.”

Chapter 20

“SC, my powers are an art, and art can only go so far,” complained Lucio, running his hand over his face. “What am I supposed to do, convince everyone that we’re Igor and his pals? Make them think we're an experiment gone terribly wrong?”

Lucio and I stared into the fast food restaurant bathroom mirror, where the three of us were crammed while Darian had worked. We’d locked the door, much to the annoyance of the other customers, and checked to make sure the stalls had been empty.

Darian took a step backwards to admire his creation. Or rather, his monstrosities.

“Darian, I’m fine with ugly, but Lucio has a point. Can you make us a bit more normal?” I asked, squinting one eye to try and make it similar to the other. Asymmetrical was the kindest way to describe our faces, and most would run off screaming at the sight of us. Lucio’s nose was lopsided and looked to be broken in multiple places. My ears were mismatched, one so small it might as well be missing, and my hairline raced up and down across my forehead like a half mowed lawn. Even the cheekbones seemed out of place, as if two faces had been squashed together and were fighting over prime real estate.

“Hold still, one second. It’s a lot harder doing this to someone else, but I never was very good at it, even on myself. I chose to look like Donny because he was ugly in the first place, and old skin is much more forgiving to work with,” said Darian, his tongue poking out of his mouth as he took his thumb and ran it along my jaw to straighten it. The bone complied like clay, but where it moved, it was smudged, as if it had been melted into place.

“Yeah, that’s worse. I’ll stick with Frankenstein,” said Lucio, backing away before Darian could touch him too. “I have just the idea to make this work. On second thought, Darian, give me a few scabs. SC needs a burn or two. And you can turn back into Donnie.”

“What’re you thinking, Lucio?” I asked as Darian molded my face again, producing an unsightly scar under my right eye, singing away an eyebrow and leaving a rash on my right cheek.

“You’ll see, you’ll see. Alright, we look good enough for the script to work. Ready? I’ll give you the rundown as we walk over. SC, you’ll just need to be quiet. Darian is going to do the talking.”

We left the bathroom into the fast food restaurant, spotting Slugger as he shook a carton of fries into his mouth, the box stopping in midair as he stared in surprise. Then he busted out laughing as the employees looked at us in horror, one of them retreating behind the counter as we passed.

“Oi, Darian, you think you could give me a makeover as well? These two would sell for a decent price in a museum!” He kept laughing as Lucio stalked past, frightening off two customers on the way to the door. “Never have I been more happy to be on backup duty. I’d be surprised if you make it two minutes inside the school like that, though!”

He gestured across the street, where our target waited, a fenced-in building, one similar to the school we had escaped just a few weeks earlier, With a painted sign in front of it.

Rehabilitation 1C.

“Alright, Slugger, that’s enough. You wait outside and stay hidden. If we need help, you’ll hear it,” I said, as Lucio spoke with Darian, who now bore the resemblance of Donny once again. “Screams or explosions should do the trick. But our goal is to get in and out, with no disruptions.”

“But if you’ll be needing a disruption, you’ve got the right man,” he said, then ducked behind a parked car, watching us approach the gate through the windows.

“Confidence, Darian, I need confidence from you. You’ve got to sell it,” muttered Lucio as a guard spotted us and walked to the entrance. “And, SC, act like it’s the worst day of your life. Darian, hands on our necks, we’re your property here. Don’t let him split us up.”

“Got it,” we whispered back, and I turned my gaze to the ground while Darian shoved us forwards.

“I got two here,” he shouted to the guard. “Personally requested by the headmaster himself. Straight out of the police station. You should be expecting us, no?”

“Don’t think—” started the guard from the other side of the gate, then his face relaxed as he pulled at a distant memory. “Ah, yes. I remember, a Flamethrower and a Sandblaster, no? Looks like they’ve been at each other’s throats.”

“More than that, you should see 3rd street. Half the cars don’t have paint, and the other half are charred. Impressive considering both are low powered. Rehabilitation is the only hope for them. We can still make good citizens of them.”

“Then you’ve come to the right place. Headmaster said that he wanted you to see them off to class too. Third classroom on the right, they’ll be expecting you.”

“I’m sure they will,” said Darian, pushing us through the gate as the guard opened it and hiding his smile. “I’m sure they will.”

He kept his hands clamped down on our necks as we entered the building, this facility far more musty and aged than our own. And true to the guard's word, we found our destination at the third door to the right. Darian knocked, the metallic door letting out a series of three raps, then entered without waiting for a response.

The instructor paused mid-lecture, annoyance flickering across his face as we entered. Darian spoke before he had a chance to protest, directing Lucio and me to two empty seats at the back of the class while the other students recoiled.

“Just arrived back from the hospital,” announced Darian in Donny’s voice, gesturing at us both. “The headmaster sent me to fetch them, and being the head of the district, I thought I would personally see to their well being.”

“Of course, of course,” responded the instructor, his eyes lighting up as he remembered our faces. “Class, this is precisely why power usage is forbidden outside of class hours. By engaging in a fight, these two have injured themselves so badly that they’re hardly recognizable. Robert and James, finally back.”

The class stared, their expressions far more confused than the instructor’s, as Lucio had time only to implant our memories in his mind.

“I don’t remember a Robert or James,” sniveled a kid beside Lucio, his head cocked sideways.

“And I don’t remember having to sit next to a piece of shit,” retorted Lucio while the instructor turned bright red.

“District Head, I apologize, they’re not usually this misbehaved,” he stated, looking to Darian. “I assure you, order is a priority in my classroom.”

“Perhaps,” Darian said slowly, his voice full of doubt. “But I’ll reserve that for my own judgment. I’ll be sitting in on this class to make sure these two become assimilated once more. I wouldn’t want them to cause trouble. And, instructor, I’ve heard tales of your ability to make students fascinated by the lessons of history. Perhaps you can demonstrate this in your lesson so I can include it in my report. We’re looking for highlights from each of the facilities.”

“Of course,” replied the instructor. “A slight lesson plan change, then, but for the better. Remember, class, the ability to adapt ensures survival.”

“That it does,” Darian said, taking a seat on the window sill. “That it does. Thank you, Linns. Carry on.”

Chapter 21

“A lesson of history. Hmm, but there are many of those—one could argue that all the lessons are from history. But which one fits?” Instructor Linns scanned the class, searching for inspiration, then halted on a girl at the front. “Ah, yes! Rose, just last week, you asked about the Amazon. Many mysteries there, of course, enough to cover an entire semester! But in terms of battles and history, I can only think of one major tale.”

“I did?” asked Rose as Lucio shifted uncomfortably, altering his gaze to fixate on her. “Oh, that’s right, I did!”

No one else noticed the bead of sweat that trailed down Lucio’s cheek as he focused—in the past five minutes alone, that had been three targets for memories—the guard, Linns, and Rose. Each had to be perfectly planted, since the slightest suspicion had the potential to oust us. Already, the entire class of students knew that something wasn’t right, but they wouldn’t speak up until after the bell. And by then, we’d be gone.

“The Amazon it is!” said Linns triumphantly. “Today, class, we learn the importance of raw, natural force. Of pockets of power. Class, in a typical war, what is it that wins the battles?”

“Strategy!” exclaimed a boy to my left, and Linns nodded.

“Power numbers and types!” chimed in a girl, and Linns picked a third student towards the back for the final addition.

“Technology,” came the answer after a moment’s pause.

“Yes, correct on all three,” said Linns, pacing, “That’s how a normal war is fought. But at this one battle, this one incident, there was an upset greater than any we’ve seen in centuries. Class, nearly one thousand years ago, there was an empire just north of the Amazon. They had all the signs of an advanced civilization—the ruins of their cities show us their prowess in metallurgy, in writing, and agriculture. Compared to their neighbors, their population numbers were astronomical. And when it came to their military, they were undefeated—they wielded fire, and they wielded it well.”

On the board, Linns drew a rough map, sketching the Amazon then the empire above it, and shading each in with a marker. He dotted in a few cities, and blobbed a few of the other surrounding countries, along with dotted trade routes that wove in and out of triangular mountains.

“They were known as the Thyrinians and there were none who would oppose them. None on their continent, at least. As their enemies fell, the Thyrinians grew greedy. You see, they had attacked in every direction but one—the south, into the heart of the rainforest itself. In the past, it had been overlooked, but they believed there to be treasure at the heart, protected by a small tribe perhaps a thousandth of their size. Rumors of a city of gold, of rivers of diamonds, of the fountain of youth. We know this from the few records that survived after their attack.

“Class, as you are aware, powers are dictated from birth location. And the more pure a location is, the more unadulterated and at its essence, the better that power can be shaped. To this day, we don’t know what power that small tribe had found—but we do know its effects. The Thyrinians learned it too well.

“They drove the main force of their military directly into the jungle—thousands of troops, experts in combat, absolutely unrivaled for decades. Armed to the teeth and heavily shielded. They had all the attributes you mentioned—technology, brilliant strategists, and strong powers. And they were certain that they had won the battle before it started only to run with their tail between their legs.”

Linns drew an arrow from one of the major cities that curved directly into the Amazon, then marked the end of it with an X.

“And here, you can still find their bones. Not just their bones—but every animal in the vicinity. Birds, rodents, and reptiles alike. No vegetation survived—to this day, nothing will grow within a half mile of the site or the surrounding cone that retraces the Thyrinian’s army’s steps back to their city. Straight from the rainforest to their capital city walls no horse will walk, and the city itself is preserved in what appears to be a massacre. Tens of thousands dead, soldiers and civilians alike, like a scar forever carved into the earth.”

Linns marked the board with a wide line, detailing the path of destruction, shading it in with black.

“To this day, we don’t know what power that small tribe possessed—but we do know their vengeance. Many have tried to find them, though few have returned alive. And even fewer unscathed. But if I had to predict, I’d tell you that they found a natural site—one unblemished. One with untold powers. And when they harnessed it, that tribe became unstoppable—that it was the Thyrinians who never stood a chance, and were children knocking at the door of a monster.”

Linns paused, then cleared his throat, casting a glance at Darian for approval.

“Now, there are other theories about what may have happened here. Many suggest a plague or a natural carbon dioxide release that settled into the lower lands and suffocated the Thyrinians in mass. Some think it may have been a religious sacrifice, or that perhaps a fight broke out within their own army. Or that their chefs may have mistaken the fungi in the Amazon for something edible. But the tablets translated tell a different tale, and the sheer devastation implies that the fall of the Thyrinians was no accident. That they had tampered with a force of nature herself.” Here, Linns’ voice fell to a whisper, and he leaned forward. “And she had wiped them from the face of the earth forever.”

Chapter 22

The bell rang and Darian stood to speak with Linns as the class shuffled towards the hallway.

“You can be assured,” he was saying in Donny’s hoarse voice as we passed him, “that I’ll pass on my compliments. A well-taught class, Linns. Exceptional, and I expected no less. I knew it was a fine idea to keep you on the staff after the, erm, fiasco.”

We hesitated near the door waiting for him to finish, and the boy who had sat next to Lucio shoved us aside as he exited.

“Weirdos,” he spat over his shoulder while his friend laughed.

“Oh yeah?” retorted Lucio as Darian’s disguise failed to hide the red flushing to his face. “Well, at least I didn’t piss the bed and beg my friends to keep it a secret. That would be embarrassing.”

“What—I never—” started the boy, but his friend burst out laughing.

“Oh, I forgot about that one, Doug. Ooooh, the lunch table is going to love that story! How could I forget you cried for two whole hours! And your teddy bear; do you still miss Mr. Fuzzles?”

They erupted in an argument as a sly smile crossed Lucio’s face, and Darian escorted us from the classroom and down the hall. Students filled the corridor like ants, parting around us to rush to their next destination, their eyes focused ahead. And though they didn’t bear the same eerie focus towards Good Citizenship that Siri had tried to instill in us, there was something off about them. Their movements seemed too robotic, their expressions forced. Their laughter hollow. Their mannerisms distinctly different from in the classroom.

“I don’t like this,” whispered Darian, and another student brushed past me, his skin making contact with my arm. But instead of warmth from body heat, it felt cold—almost like metal or ceramic, clammy. Mechanical. “We got what we wanted, now we get out. Let's go.”

He gripped our collars, pinching a tad too hard directing us to the exit door, while the hairs on the back of my neck prickled. Something else was wrong, something with the order of the halfway. Something that fit too well—perhaps it was their perfectly ironed clothes, clothes that surely should have at least one wrinkle in them this late in the day. Or how every locker seemed perfectly clean, devoid of papers or trinkets or personalization. It was as if we had entered another world when we moved into the hallway, like sinking underwater to a muted reality.

And when we were three-quarters of the way to the door, I realized what was wrong.

Their pace. Or rather, their march.

Each student moved to the same motion, their heels hitting the ground at the same time, their stride matching. Even those at their lockers stepped in place, their feet rising and falling though they had nowhere to go. And now that I recognized it, I could hear it—a soft pattern, not sharp like a soldier's movements, but like an undercurrent.

I realized that we were the only ones to break the pattern, who did not fall in line with the rest of the crowd.

“You!” I heard a shout from behind us, the voice of an adult, as Darian’s pace sped u., “You, who are you? Mind intruders, litterers of thoughts!”

The hall stilled, the pace cutting off like a drum that had stopped beating. There was silence, and then there were voices. Voices that all spoke at the exact time, the same words resonating, washing over us from all directions.

“Who are you?” they said, a chorus of highs and lows, a mix of children and adults. “You are not part of the One. You don’t belong!”

I shivered as we broke into a run, and the students behind us screamed—except there was no variation in their shriek, but rather it was a single note, a single effort. Turning back, I saw two columns rushing forwards in a line along the walls, leaving a lane down the center of the hallway as they accelerated. At the end of the lane, a single man watched, his hands raised in the air, his long, tangled beard jutting out and down. He flicked his wrists like a conductor and the columns of students broke, washing over each other like two colliding waves to angle at us like a spear tip.

But the students still stepped in time, their pace dragged down by the slowest among them. Ahead, several blocked the door, trapping us between them and the approaching horde. I readied a force point to pry them apart at the last instant, but the door slammed open, throwing their bodies against the wall, where even their struggling seemed to match some unheard beat. Beyond, Slugger’s silhouette was marked through the outside light.

“Hurry!” he shouted, motioning his hands in a circle, “Lads, I need time, hurry! Hup hup!”

We darted through the opening, the floor shaking beneath us in time with their steps, and Slugger slammed the door shut while rolling two garbage cans in front of them, hooking their edge under the door clasp. He grunted as he placed a palm upon each until the concrete underneath them cracked, then slightly paled as he repeated the motion with the doors.

“That’s about a loaded train car of mass each,” he gasped, stumbling away. “Should last a few minutes. Some expert backup ye got here, lads. You should be paying top dollar.”

Behind us, as we sprinted for the gate, hammering started on the door. Pounding that occurred together instead of random, coordinated to a beat, and faces that peered out through the narrow glass with narrowed eyes.

“Your work isn’t done yet,” answered Darian as he pointed ahead to where sirens had started in the distance. “Damn, this feels just like last time I escaped. Except this time, we’re not supposed to get caught. Might prove more difficult this way.“

Chapter 23

“No bubble shield here!” Lucio laughed as he half ran and half danced ahead of us, “Say what you want about Siri, but she had her security tight. Looks like this facility is second rate!”

He leapt as he reached the side gate, one intended for walking through rather than driving, crossing the boundary in a single bound and landing outside the school. His feet connected with the concrete sidewalk, his momentum carrying him forwards, but then stopped as if they had been latched to the ground. With a startled shout, he pinwheeled his arms and fell sideways into the grass, his shoes still locked into place, his ankles twisting in place. The remaining three of us froze as he raised a hand, dragging strands of grass with it as they stuck to his skin, and the sleeve of his shirt that had made contact with the earth remained glued down.

“Agh, I’m stuck!” he shouted, trying to wiggle and succeeding in only ripping his collar. He struggled and soon his cheek made contact, adhering instantly, followed by more and more of his body’s surface area, like he was a fly on sticky paper.

“Stop moving, you idiot,” commanded Darian, picking up a rock and skipping it across the ground towards Lucio. It bounced twice, then held fast just outside the gate, caught in the same invisible trap. Darian threw a second rock, which stuck several paces out, then a third. At fifteen feet, it kept skipping, having passed the sticky zone, but that was farther than we could jump. Ahead, the flashing blue lights grew brighter.

Towards the school, I heard a laugh and turned to see the guard we had met earlier with his hands extended towards the gate. Immediately, I formed two dark orbs in my hands and I hurled them his way. Without mass for stabilization, they exploded directly outside my range, a full ten steps short of him. But to a guard expecting a low-powered Sandblaster, and having the generally laughed at power of being a Stickler that was used primarily in pest extermination teams, two unexpected explosions were enough to send him running.

“Still stluck,” Lucio managed to say, his words mangled from the concrete as the guard disappeared around the corner. "That didn't fix it."

“Probably like my power, it’ll wear away slow,” muttered Slugger. “SC, clear us a path. If we’re lucky, the stick is just on the surface.”

I sent two more dark orbs directly along the ground, carving ruts along the concrete for us to walk, the orbs rocketing away after they cleared fifteen feet. Darian tossed a rock and we held our breath as it bounced, then bounced again, clearing the entire gap through the rubble. Meaning that the guard's power did not seep underground, and so long as we walked in the ruts, we could pass safely.

“Quick, before the guard gets back, or they break down the door!” I said, the first to run through and stop by Lucio’s side, bending over to inspect the sticky surface. To the eye, nothing appeared different than regular concrete, but the scores of dead bugs that were only visible now that we were close to the surface told a different story. “Lucio, we’re going to have to cut you out. It might hurt.”

“Hell no, you wlon’t,” he attempted to say, his mouth now barely able to move as more of his skin became trapped. “Leave me here. I’ll get unstluck eventlually.”

I hesitated, but Slugger spoke up behind me.

“Not an option, lad. Hold on—heh, that shouldn’t be hard for you, should it now?”

Slugger reached down, grabbing the sidewalk by its edge. Concentrating as his muscles bulged, he pulled upwards, tilting the entire square section as he was able to gain a better grip. Dirt drizzled down under the gap as the concrete slab rose, and Lucio squawked from the sudden movement.

“Oi, Darian,” Slugger said, teeth gritted, “get on the other end. I can make the concrete lighter, but it doesn’t work well on people. Lucio needs to start laying off the bacon.”

They heaved, and the entire slab came free, trailing dirt as it rose into the air, Lucio riding the top like a mattress between them. Ahead, I surveyed the lights, determining their general direction before announcing a quick plan.

“Alright, we meet back in the subway. But you three aren’t going to be able to outrun the cops like that—you’ll be easy prey. You go left, and I’ll cut them off on the right with a distraction.”

“And if you don’t come back?” asked Darian, shifting under the reduced weight of the slab. “Then what?”

“Well, that would make two of us that have been caught by the cops, right? If you can escape, so can I. I’ll be back. Now go!”

I pushed them as I started sprinting, aiming to cut the cars off before they rounded the corner to be within sight of the others. My dark orb streaked ahead of me as I spotted a fire hydrant, cutting the bolt clean off as water started to spray into the street, the mist from the jet obscuring the view. With my other hand, I created a force point in front of a store window, shattering the glass and casting the shards into the street to pop the police's tires. I smiled as they screeched to a stop in front of the glittering pavement, rubber paused just before the glass.

Then I realized that the glass had not stopped them.

Rather, they had spotted me.

Chapter 24

“Stop,” came the voice over the loudspeaker as the doors opened and police jumped out. “Rehabilitation Facility 1C has deemed you a top threat, and we will not hesitate to use deadly force.”

Two officers stepped forwards around the edges of an empty squad car, advancing with shields that appeared to be made from solidified light. In retaliation, I launched a dark orb between them, aimed at the windshield, the orb cutting through it as if it were butter. The car crumpled inward like a soda can as I released my hold, then the explosion threw the officers forwards to skid on their shields, shredding the light against asphalt to leave a luminescent snail trail behind them. In the momentary distraction, I launched myself left, aiming at an alleyway just as I caught sight of someone exiting a car in the back, her short hair jogging my memory.

Larissa, the policewoman who had caught me at the gas station when I first entered the academy, back when I pretended to be a telekinetic. And who could run several times faster than any human should.

Her steel eyes met mine as I darted into the alleyway, and just before I lost sight of her, she blurred, moving too fast to recognize. But this time, now that I would actually use my powers instead of concealing, catching me would not be so easy. Raising a hand, I threw a black orb into position at the alleyway's mouth, using it as a shield to prevent her from entering. It would have worked—though not many people seemed to understand how my orbs worked, they certainly feared them. Avoided them. Or at least respected them.

But Larissa was moving too fast to stop.

It didn’t matter that Larissa had insulted my mother the last time we had met. It didn’t matter that she had purposely ground her knees into my back to scrape my cheek on the gravel while she arrested me, or that she had handcuffed me so tight it cut off my circulation. Her scream cut through any resentment that I still harbored for her.

The orb caught her just below the shoulder as she tried to dodge by running up the actual alley wall, her momentum just enough to escape its full grasp. Blood splattered in an arc around the orb, creating a spiral as it whipped around the darkness and was absorbed. She crashed to the ground a few feet away from me, her face contorted in horror as she stared at the stump, her mouth working but finding no words. Where her arm had been, there was only a tattered sleeve.

And mottled red.

I stared, my heart forgetting to pound, for a moment everything frozen. The alleyway eerily quiet with only the sound of sirens in the background. My eyes widening. My mind shutting.

But then a second officer appeared behind the orb, taking in the situation in an instant, raising his hand and cursing as he launched a ball of fire at me. Red flames licked the side of the alleyway as the inferno grew, the center white hot, the strike intended to kill. Only instinct saved me as another one of my black orbs absorbed the attack, replacing the bright center with darkness and allowing a few exterior flames to wash over the sides of me with little more damage than singed hair. Then my legs were moving, pumping to put as much ground as possible between me and the officers, my breaths coming in shallow gasps though I had barely exerted myself. A second fireball came for me but fizzled away before it could reach.  I heard my orb explode far behind before there could be a third.

I ducked left, zigzagging through small side streets and catching glimpses of uniform around each corner. I cursed as I rounded a bend and was cut off, two officers already blocking the exit, scrambling to turn back upon myself and narrowly missing an electric shock that charred the wall behind me, the blue light leaving stars stained into my vision. I darted right as two more officers materialized, then leapt over a small fence that barely slowed my sprint. But my chest tightened as I saw more officers, and a dark feeling descended on my shoulders as I realized what they were doing.

They weren’t trying to stop me.

They were trying to herd me.

And ten seconds later, as I burst out into a deserted street, I discovered why.

Five officers stood in an arc in front of me, while more filled the alleyway behind me, all keeping their distance. Just within earshot, I could hear their radios in unison as a crisp voice cut across the channel, the words coming quick.

“Target has stopped and is surrounded. Two spotters maintaining eyes on the target, from the air and through the buildings. Waiting for orders.”

I panted, considering my options as one of the five officers ahead stepped forwards. He was tall, his frame wiry, the muscles just visible to accent his uniform. Each of his steps were pronounced, commanding presence, and he moved as if he were far larger, far heavier than he should be. His eyebrows were sharp along with the rest of his facial features, the cheekbones pronounced, the nose pointed. On the left side of his face there was a thin scar, running from his ear over his lips, and coming to a halt just a hair short of the arteries on his neck.

“A pity,” he said, his eyes burning as they focused on me, and I instantly recognized Lacit's voice, “It was too much to hope we had found our prize. Instead, we are given the leftovers from yesterday’s mess to clean.”

Chapter 25

“I don’t want to hurt anyone,” I said, throwing out my chest and widening my stance, all too aware of the sheer firepower that was currently aimed at me from all directions. “Don’t make me attack.”

“Didn’t stop you back there, did it?” said Lacit, gesturing back the direction I had come, towards Larissa. “I could have you killed here, now, and there would be no questions asked. You struck an officer. You’re dangerous.”

“You’re right I am!” I shouted, letting two black orbs materialize above my palms, my ears listening for any movement. But Lacit held up a hand before any of the officers could react.

“And danger harnessed is power,” he said, his eyes gleaming. “What you have is a gift. A rare gift. But here on the streets it rots, unused. You spit into fate’s generosity. But we, we can put you to good use.”

“I’ve heard it before,” I snapped back, letting the orbs grow by absorbing asphalt, trying to think of an escape and knowing I’d want them to be fully powered. “And I’m not interested. Not in you, not in the rehabilitation facilities.”

“Ah, but you’ve already done your time there, haven’t you?” he asked, and he twisted a silver band on his finger. A ring, one that I had seen before, just after I had been separated from my mother. Worn by a crazed homeless man, who claimed it was given out at graduation. Rehabilitation facility graduation.

“But you would be accelerated,” Lacit continued, and the other four officers behind him touched matching rings on their fingers. “We could make an exception. An early graduation. You could change the world. I know what you did in the subway, and I know who finished off Siri and Peregrine. That’s impressive for any man, let alone a boy.”

“You’re complimenting me on defeating your friends? Your loyalty sounds thin for someone who wants my help.”

“Power is power. Yours was greater than theirs, and that is all that matters.” He shrugged then cracked his knuckles, looking over me. “But they were not my friends. They were necessary parts of a machine.”

He threw out a hand, and a pickup truck skidded between us, the tires leaving marks on the asphalt. I took the momentary distraction to glance to my left and right, searching for an escape route, though officers blocked me in every direction. But along the road, forty paces to my right and twenty to my left, were manhole covers. If I could just make it to them, I could disappear. Then my train of thought was interrupted as he continued speaking.

“Siri and Peregrine had their parts,” he said, as the truck hood popped open of its own accord, and metal screeched inside the car. The engine rose into the air, unfastened, and pieces began to disassemble themselves. Metal parted from metal, expanding outwards, exploding the engine so that each individual component was visible. And above the rest, he raised the grease-covered parts, those coated in sludge, holding them to the light as he spoke. “And not every part shines. Every machine has grime, the lubrication that allows it to work, the pieces hidden beneath the hood. Necessary pieces, however unsightly. Yet there are thousands more parts.”

He raised both hands, his face held in wonder as the truck leapt to obey his bidding. The lug nuts on the tires raced to unscrew themselves, the door hinges snapped apart, the wiring unraveled. Light bulbs shot from their sockets, and the seats popped out of the cabin. In moments, the entire truck floated in the air, completely torn apart, yet ordered.

“And we just have to find where you fit,” he said, the entire assembly shivering. “There are plenty of places far cleaner.”

“Never,” I hissed, thinking back to the academy. To how Siri had nearly killed Arial, and Peregrine had tried to kill me. And what they had done to my mother. Despite what he said, this man supported those actions, those wrongs.

And I could never join that.

He sighed, dropping his hands to his sides.

“Then it’s time for you to meet a real telekinetic.”

The entire truck crashed down at once, and I knew I had a split second to act. Already the officers at his sides had raised their hands, and I saw that the car parts had not merely fallen but had angled themselves to face me. Anything sharp now gleamed in my direction, the point threatening and preparing to be loosed.

They sprang at me like arrows released from a bow, and I threw a dark orb in front of me, absorbing the majority of the mass. But more importantly, I aimed at Lacit, striking directly at his figure. And I threw a second orb downwards, remembering the manhole covers on my left and right, praying that the city’s planners ran their sewers in regular routes.

I fell as Lacit raised his hand once more, our eyes lingering on each other as I descended into darkness. Then I felt the orb break free beneath my feet, dislodging itself in air, its weight no longer rapidly accumulating. Above, the circle I had cut into the asphalt became a spotlight, brimming with colors as shards of metal and fire flew like angered hornets where I had been an instant before. Water rushed up to meet me, submerging me, providing just enough cushion as my back scraped against the concrete floor. I surfaced as it started carrying me away, creating a force point that dragged the stream behind upwards in a bulging wall, shielding me from projectiles and fire.

But what worried me most was not if they would follow me into the tunnel.

Rather, it was Lacit’s raised hand as I threw my dark orb his way.

And how he had halted it in midair.

Chapter 26

No pursuers followed through the hole I had made to the sewer. Rather, the world above ripped in two.

The seam began as a crack, a fissure of yellow light among the darkness. The tunnel shuddered as the gap in asphalt widened, the layers peeling back like the top of a tin can, debris falling to splash below. Metal screeched as it was ripped apart, the rebar snapping like string, sizzling as red-hot pieces fell into the water. I cursed, realizing that the crack was growing faster than the water was flowing, and that it would reach directly overhead.

Meaning I would soon become easy target practice.

I hadn’t counted on the police destroying an entire city street to reach me. But this wasn’t Lacit’s city, and the destruction bore little consideration to him.

With the width of the tunnel being only a few bodies wide, there would be little room for dodging projectiles. Around me, there was no solid material to use as a shield, nor any projectiles that I could launch back at my attackers. The water reeked, staining my clothes a murky brown, and while I could hide underneath, I’d risk disease— plus, that solution would be temporary at best. Already, I was retching, trying to keep my mind off the likely contents of the sewer.

I kicked backwards against the ground, my toes barely brushing against the gritty surface as I struggled to keep my head above water. My speed increased gradually, but too gradually, the change in motion barely noticeable as the crack advanced. On a ledge to my left, a greasy rat scampered ahead of me, its squeaks laughing at my pathetic attempt at speed, its eyes illuminated in the darkness.

Behind, a figure ducked over the rim of the crack and below the edge of the sewer, launching two fireballs towards me as I tried to scramble out of the way. The officer leered, knowing that his aim was true, his square face locked in an expression of triumph. I raised my hands, pulling the water upwards with a force point, the shield absorbing the heat before it could reach me. And as I displaced the water, my feet found better purchase beneath me, the stream momentarily shallower from my efforts.

Two more fireballs raced towards me, closer this time, and I raised the water wall higher. Now the water was barely to my waist, the artificial wall wicking it away from me, and water behind buffeting me forwards towards the threat as it rushed to fill the gap. The fifth and sixth fireballs came, accompanied by a peppering of metal shards fired by Lacit as he paused, ripping the sewer in two— but the water slowed the projectiles, his aim was rushed, and darkness shrouded me. And as a bolt of lightning that struck the water and was diffused through the metal piping, an idea struck me in my panic.

I raised the wall higher, pouring my energy into the force point that dragged the water upwards, straining with exertion from the weight. And to my left, I created another force point, bending the space to pull the rushing water away from my feet. In moments, only a puddle was left under my feet, and the water raised all around me to form a hole in the stream. Stepping forwards, I maintained the force points, and water rushed by on my left to keep equilibrium. As I moved, the liquid parted upwards, locked in place by my power.

After a few seconds of walking, holding the points in place became more natural. I started to jog, focusing on keeping the balance, hearing the officers behind me shouting as I pulled away from them. Then I broke into a full sprint, the water parting to allow me to pass as I left the officers far behind. The rumbling above turned to thunder as the crack raced me, Lacit redoubling his efforts to rip the sewer apart, the entire tunnel shaking and threatening to collapse— but I could run slightly faster than he could rip through several feet of city infrastructure.

Ahead, the tunnel split, and I turned left, then right, choosing the a random path in the darkness. Putting as much distance between me and the officers as possible, and not letting up for a full half hour, when I thought that I couldn’t walk another step, and I could no longer hear the rumbling.

A ladder extended into the water, leading upwards to a manhole cover, rust coating each rung that dug into my palms. I sighed as I released the water, feeling as if a great weight had just left my shoulders, and held my breath as I listened. Above, it was silent— no cars seemed to be driving above me, and no police seemed to be waiting. With a tentative hand, I cracked the cover open, peering outwards with caution, knowing that an approaching car could render my entire escape futile.

But the street was empty apart from a cat that cast me a suspicious glance with a single eye, slinking along the edge of a dumpster, its tail swishing over the edge. Heaving myself outside, I paused to catch my breath, dripping water onto the street as I leaned against a brick wall.

“I probably smell even worse than you do,” I said to the cat, who hissed in response before darting away. In the distance, I could barely hear sirens, but they neither approached or departed— after the distance I had run, and the times I had taken random turns, there was little chance of them finding me. But if I walked along a main road, my smell and appearance would draw attention.

So I stuck to the side alleys, the first half hour wandering around until I recognized a landmark, then the second half hour spent trudging home. The sun dried my clothes as I walked, caking on a layer of crust and helping seal in the smell to the fibers. Or maybe I was just getting used to my own stench.

I sighed in relief when I reached the subway and my mother had still not returned. In this condition, she’d never let me out of her sight again, and already it was only a matter of time before she discovered our activities.

“You reek,” Lucio said as they ran up to me, and he wrinkled his nose. Scratches covered the entire side of him that had been glued to the concrete, and holes were ripped in his clothing from where I suspected he had prematurely freed himself as the Stickler’s power faded. “What the hell happened to you?”

“First, I need clothes. It’s a hell of a story,” I said, running a hand through my hair, then pulling it away as I realized it was crusty. “I need to get cleaned up before Mother sees me.”

“Well, you’ve got about five minutes,” said a voice behind me, and I turned to see Lola holding a hand over her nose as she entered the tunnel. “She sent me back early so one of you could help her carry the groceries. I’d suggest you walk slowly, because SC needs at least an hour of thorough scrubbing.”

Chapter 27

Darian ran above to slow my mother, while Lucio brought me a towel as I stripped. My clothes formed a pile indistinguishable from a pitcher mound as they fell off me and I gestured at them to Lucio.

“Do something about these while I clean up!”

He hesitated, but Lola was already moving forwards, her hand still pinching her nose.

“Disgusting,” she said, then moved a foot forwards, nudging the pile with her shoe. It slid sideways, the edge of it disappearing in a plane, the air itself appearing to eat the clothes and muck. With a quick shove, all that remained of the pile winked out of existence as if it had never been real.

“Evidence destroyed,” she proclaimed, smiling as Lucio stepped away and I stared. “Now hurry up, or you’ll be caught. Quit gaping like an idiot. Go!”

For our showers, there was a janitorial closet with a working sink a few floors above, where we used sponges to take baths. Mercifully, the water was lukewarm, unlike the first janitorial closet we had found that contained water so cold that Lucio had to be bribed to spend even a minute in the frigidity. But in the state I was in, using either of those closets would leave them looking as if they had been hit by a mudslide, so they were not an option.

Instead, we headed into the subway tunnel as I shouted over my back to Slugger.

“Slugger, board games, quick! We’ll be back in a few.”

We clipped down the track at full speed, hurrying to the spot where we had been harvesting building materials to sell for our food. Stacks of plywood, tubing, fittings, rail, and even tool boxes lay forgotten in the deep underground— rumor was that the entire construction team had been laid off when the subway project was cancelled, but the city officials never bothered to retrieve the supplies. And next to the supplies, there was a mess of piping that extended from the wall, leading to the sprinkler system that had been completed in only half the tunnel.

A few weeks prior, Slugger had tried to disconnect the sprinklers, convinced that the heads and piping might fetch a decent price. After a few minutes fiddling with the wheels that controlled the water flow to the apparatus, he heaved with all his weight on one that was stuck in place. With a snap, the wheel had given way, opening a valve directly in front of him and blasting him to the ground. He tumbled once in a backwards somersault before I came to his rescue, wrenching the valve back shut while Lucio shrieked with laughter and Slugger sputtered.

Now I stood in the same spot where Slugger had been launched backwards, dressed in only my boxers with my hands over my head.

“Ready?” Lucio asked, and before I could answer, he threw the valve open. The icy deluge knocked me off my feet, the water feeling as if it was scouring off the outer layer of my skin. I rolled, letting the water course over every inch of me, nearly preferring the sewer after the blast caught me square in the face.

Lucio held it open a full thirty seconds before letting up, then rushed over to do a quick inspection before throwing me a towel and fresh set of clothes. Then he darted back to the platform, leaving me trailing behind as I hopped into my clothes. He slid in place in front of the board games that Slugger had set up, still breathing heavily, and I rushed to my room, throwing the towel I had been running through my hair from where we had come.

Seconds later, my mother entered with Darian and Lola in tow, and Lucio reached down to grab the edge of the board, flipping it up in the air so that hundreds of small plastic pieces scattered across the floor while the board itself performed several flips.

“That’s bullshit and you know it!” he shouted, throwing a deck of cards at Slugger that fluttered down like confetti. “We agreed on no shim shammies, you cheater!”

“Oi, you’re the cheater!” Slugger retorted as Lucio threw a second set of cards. Then Slugger leapt at him, scuffling with him on the ground as my mother shouted at them to stop, and Darian rushed forwards to intervene. By the time he pulled Slugger off, he already had gotten a few shots in. It took ten more minutes for them to cool down before I emerged from my room, appearing as if I had just awoken from a nap.

By now my hair was dry, and Lucio’s scratches from earlier blended in with the ones from the fight. In her fury, my mother banished them both to their rooms without dinner, but Lucio slipped away as we started to eat, stealing into the tunnel while my mother was preoccupied with a glass I purposely spilled. Two hours later, he returned, and as I settled into bed, I heard a whisper.

“Just got back from Olef’s. Roland’s coming. Tonight. Be ready in four hours.”

Chapter 28

Lucio never had to rouse me from my sleep when we departed four hours later. Instead, I had failed to drift off, my eyes refusing to close for more than a few minutes at a time. In the darkness, the scene from just a few hours earlier replayed in my mind.

When I had escaped. When Larissa had lost her arm. No— when my power had stolen it from her.

I shivered as I remembered her face staring up at me in shock. Would the blood loss be enough to kill her? Had I not only injured her but also taken their life?

This was different than killing Peregrine, different than those working for Siri. As far as I knew, Larissa was ignorant of the situation at the rehabilitation facility. She may not have been an angel, but I certainly didn’t think she was a devil.

And she didn’t deserve to die.

But I pushed those thoughts from my head as Lucio and I snuck out of the subway and walked the dark city streets, avoiding streetlights and busy intersections. At night, my skin prickled as we entered the seedier block of the city where Olef lived. Here I felt eyes watching us from the shadows, and every sound warned of an attack.

We knocked on Olef’s door, and he led us down the alleyway, pulling a small strip of metal from his pocket and jamming it into the door frame next to his. With a creak, the door opened into darkness, displaying a room empty save for a cluster of folding chairs on a stained carpet.

“My neighbors, nearly always vacant. No idea why; the rent’s a steal,” he wheezed. “Last couple left their curtains behind. They really brighten my living room. Lucy loves them.”

Then he closed the door, flicking the light switch as he departed, the flickering bulb above illuminating wallpaper installed several decades prior. In a few moments, there were footsteps outside, the door cracked open once more, and Roland entered.

He looked thinner than I had seen him last, with dark bags that sagged under his eyes. Sighing, he pulled a chair to face the two of us, pressing two fingers against his temple.

“I should have known,” he grumbled, then rolled out his neck with a series of pops. “Do you realize the amount of trouble you’ve caused me?”

“Do you realize what has been occurring under your nose for years?” I retorted, holding my ground. “Besides, that statement can go two ways. I only acted against the facility because I had to.”

“You had to,” Roland said, shaking his head. “None of us have to do anything. I’d been on Siri’s heels for years before you intervened. We were this close to wrapping up a case.”

He held out two pudgy fingers, each of the nails gnawed down.

“It only took me a few weeks,” I shot back. “And don’t think I’ve forgotten about everything else the police have done to this city. You’ve got blood on your hands.”

“Not Larissa’s,” he said through gritted teeth. “That one’s on yours. I’ve let you slide because you acted against Siri. But I can’t turn a blind eye against that, and if you continue screwing up at your current rate, neither will the higher authorities. You’ll get yourself on a list, if you aren’t already.”

We stared at each other, fuming, each of our muscles tightening. I wondered who would be the first to leap at the other, but then his brow softened. And I bit my lip, remembering not just the bad but the good about Roland. He’d helped me save my mother, though inadvertently. He’d brought us food at the rehabilitation facility when we were bottoms, great baskets filled to the brim with meats and fruits that he had hidden away for us in the cover of night. And he’d once led the Hunter away from where I was hiding so that I might escape.

Roland’s gaze too appeared to soften, as if he too remembered these moments. Remembered that we were friends, not enemies. But more importantly, Roland believed these memories,

That was something that I had learned to never do when Lucio was in the room, and the colors in my mind appeared slightly too vivid. But though I knew the memories I was experiencing to be false, my anger had still been wiped away. And it was time to discuss the future, not the past.

“Sorry,” mumbled Roland, still a little dazed from Lucio’s touch. “Got a tad carried away there. My source tells me that you have information.”

“We do,” I said, my voice softer. “But our concern is for what purpose the police intend to use it. I can’t share it with you, but what I can do is help remove those who have made your life more difficult.”

I met his eye, then spoke the name we were both thinking. “Lacit.”

“The scum, that insolent twat,” cursed Roland, shaking his head. “Siri warned there would be consequences when she was arrested. Mind you, I don’t regret doing it. But she wasn’t bluffing when she said they have power in high places. Lacit is my punishment, and he’ll only bring more trouble to this city. Since he’s been here, the force has already doubled in size, people he’s cherry-picked, bypassing our hiring process. Their resumes check out, but they sure don’t.”

I swallowed, remembering the rings that Lacit and his followers had worn. If they had graduated from a rehabilitation facility, even without falsity, they would qualify for the police force. That was half the reason the facilities existed.

“Any idea what he plans to do with them?” I asked. “Or rather, why he wants the information you came here for so badly?”

“At first, I thought it was to cover for our demotions— every officer who was active in the subway has been restricted to desk duty, effectively neutralized. In addition to our lack of experienced headcount, the station is run worse than ever. We’ve always had our troublemakers, but this is a new level of ineptitude. As far as I can tell, all they’ve done is search the city high and low. Even went back down into the subway, tracked the tunnels to the areas where they had collapsed. Anyways, he’s not here permanently. Reason he got in so easily is that they claimed it was a rotational assignment, something to boost his experience in the field and fast track him into a higher position. He’s moving out soon, and whatever he wants, he wants it before he leaves.”

“And where is he going?” I asked, knowing the answer before I opened my mouth.

“International assignment, the next step in an accelerated career. Supposedly, there’s been some trouble in the southern hemisphere; he and his gang are taking it on together. I suspect that’s half the reason the force hasn’t been present— has them training whenever they aren’t searching. Running drills in the yard, testing their powers, bringing in experts on the culture and environment. So long as he’s out of my hair, I couldn’t care less where they send him— just not here.”

“Why do you think he’s leaving? For his accelerated career or for something else?”

“I don’t give a damn. Just as long as he’s out of my city,” Roland growled. “That’s why I’m here now, to accelerate his departure. To give him what he wants and get him out.”

Chapter 29

“I’d give him about a week before he’s gone,” Roland finished, his voice the lightest it had been all meeting. “I can see him getting impatient. Slamming the doors of his office, shouting over his calls— he’s itching to act.”

“We’ll make sure he doesn’t come back with trouble,” I responded, and Roland’s eyes narrowed.

“Boy, you are trouble. Don’t think I’ve forgotten. I’ve half a mind to arrest you now. And if I see you on the streets, don’t think I’ll hesitate.”

“Under what charges, exactly?”

“Lacit isn’t the only one who can play dirty,” he threatened. “Give me enough motivation, and we’ll find a reason. Destruction of city property. Assault of an officer. No papers. I could put you behind bars for life.”

“You’ll just have trouble keeping me there,” I retorted. “But enough— Roland, we’re on your side this time. I can’t say I like the police, but out of all the ones I’ve met, I’d choose you any day. As far as I can tell, our argument isn’t with you.”

“And for shutting down that school, even if it came in the way of our other plans, maybe I can let some past events slide,” he had answered. Then we stood, shaking hands, our grip slightly tighter than necessary. Olef escorted Roland out first, then made Lucio and me wait ten minutes before leaving on our own.

“Next time you try to start a fight in one of my resources homes, will you let me know first?” Lucio said, exasperated, as we left. “Last thing I want to do is piss off Olef. Besides, we could use him in the future. You’re welcome for intervening, but I’d prefer not to jump into the minds of the police. At least not for serious things, making them think they forgot a doughnut somewhere is hilarious.”

We were walking down the dark streets back to the subway, my hands in my pockets, thinking about what Roland had said before we left.

“I know, I know,” I sighed. “After today, I couldn’t help it. Just the sight of a uniform gets me uneasy.”

“Like you said, though, I don’t think Roland has a direct hand in this,” continued Lucio, kicking a small pebble to send it skidding down the street. “You even said the people who took your mother were impersonators. And it sounds like he was trying to solve the rehabilitation problem already.”

“While delivering more students there,” I pointed out. “Sure, he might not be the devil, but he isn’t innocent. Besides, he worked with The Hunter.”

“And we work with Olef. Speaking of devils, he’s no angel. I don’t want to know the things that Lucy has seen.”

“Enough,” I said, cutting him off. The last comparison of myself I wanted was to the police. Especially after Larissa.

We walked the remainder of the way in silence, then I climbed back into bed, getting some much needed sleep. As soon as I shut my eyes, I was claimed, my mind thankfully shutting off, with no nightmares or dreams. The next morning, I was jarred awake by my mother’s voice as it echoed through the platform, sharp enough to make me clamp the pillow over my ears.

“SC! Lucio! Out here, now.”

I groaned as I pulled myself from bed, the lack of sleep making me sluggish. Usually, my mother was agitated when we were late for breakfast, but something in her tone made my heart beat a little faster. When I crossed the threshold to my room, I found out why.

Two blue tracks led to where I had taken off my sneakers in the darkness, as well as a matching set that led to Lucio’s shoes. They trailed backwards, all the way up to the entrance of the tunnel, marking our path from the night before. From the center of the tracks, my mother glared, her face livid.

“I had my suspicions, but this is proof! You continue to endanger us all. Thank you, Lucio— your idea showed me how to discover your departure.” She gestured at the blue ink, which had been in a pool at the entrance. Not sensing anything awry in the darkness, we’d missed it, turning our sneakers into stamps.

“From now on, you are grounded on full house arrest. Lucio, Darian, Lola, if you don’t like it, you can leave, but you aren’t coming back. I don’t care where you’ve been, but you’re not going there any longer. Effective immediately.”

At her feet was fishing line and tape— later, we discovered that she had set lines throughout the exits that would leave traces of us passing. From now on, she would check them each morning, and when she awakened, plus whenever she returned. Since we didn’t know how many there were, it would be near impossible to escape without detection. Of course, I could bore another hole to the surface, but that would be discovered quickly, and I would face my mother’s true wrath.

So we plotted together when my mother left for groceries, huddled around the kitchen table. Mother had assigned Lola to watch us, not realizing that our missions were aligned. And after a few hours, a plan started to fall into place.

Chapter 30

“You’re driving her insane,” Lola said when we were huddled around the table, gesturing to where my mother had departed. “Give her a few days’ rest, then negotiate. Maybe even show a little compassion?”

“We don’t have a few days,” I countered, tracing the seams in the table with my finger. “We have to act now.”

“Coming from the person who was so bored he was paralyzed by inaction just a few days ago?” asked Lola, raising an eyebrow. “What makes this time so urgent? Seems like none of you can sit still. No wonder she can’t bear you. You know that the entire expanse of time that we were shopping she had a torrent of questions about the facility? Did you tell her nothing?”

“Oh, because you’ve been so open with us? Besides, what she finds out is just going to make her more worried, and she already knows enough.” I took a deep breath, then continued. “Lola, they’re leaving soon. Lacit is with a task force. They’re heading straight to the Amazon, and I don’t know what they’re after, but I know you’re wrapped up in it. And I think you know that too.”

“They’re what? Who is they?” Lola asked. “Hold on, wait here.”

She flickered out of existence for a few seconds, then popped back, shaking out her hair. “Who?” she demanded again.

“What was that about?” Lucio asked. “Disappearing in case they’re showing up?”

“For your information, I was checking to make sure no one was approaching,” she answered. “You don’t always have to assume the worst.”

“What, you ran all the way to the door, peeked out, and returned in five seconds?”

“Ugh, not coming from here, coming from there.” She waved a lofty hand in the air, gesturing vaguely.

“Where?” the four of us chorused at once, leaning in.

“You don’t just think I disappear when I utilize my power, do you? I go somewhere else, obviously.” She punctuated her point with a shimmer, then reverted to her original question. “But who is going to the Amazon?”

“Lacit, his task force, and damn knows who else. The rehabilitation facilities. Whoever it is, it’ll be trouble. And we’re going to stop them.”

“Then you’re right, it’s time to get started. Now,” she said.

“But first, you never answered our question,” interjected Slugger. “Where exactly do you go? If you want us to move, then you give us an answer first.”

“I’ve already said too much,” she hissed. “It’s a secret.”

“Because we don’t have any of those already,” stated Darian, his voice dry, his eyes rolling.

“And otherwise, we’re leaving you behind when we go. Ticket of passage isn’t free,” I added.

Lola’s face contorted, then she spun on her heel, walking towards the corner of the platform. “Fine!” she shouted over her shoulder. “Hurry up; follow me!”

Glancing at each other, we bumbled after, bumping into each other as we craned our necks to see where she was going. But she crossed the platform without hesitation, walking directly towards the wall. When she reached it, she turned, leaning against the concrete.

“Join hands,” she said, then raised her voice when we hesitated. “Join hands! We have a rainforest to save!”

Lucio latched on to Darian and me, Slugger to Darian, then Lola reached out with her palm up, her voice commanding.

“Now, two rules. One, don’t let go once we start moving.”

“Or what?” asked Lucio. “What would happen?”

“While my body can handle being in two places at once,” said Lola, looking Lucio up and down, “I can’t say the same for yours. Most scientific studies show that the human body functions best when left in one piece. And the second rule is this— once we’re inside, don’t wander off. No one goes more than an arm’s length away.”

“Or what?” repeated Lucio, though the words squeaked out after the first response.

“Or when we come back, I’ll leave you there, because I don’t have time to hunt you down. And rule three, freshly instated— no more questions. Ready?”

Then, without waiting for us to answer, she stepped forwards through the wall, pulling me after her, the space enveloping us. To my eyes, the effect was the same as when Peregrine teleported— but here, I felt no ripping of space, no change in my perception. Rather, my power sensed nothing, as if Lola’s actions of pulling reality apart were no different than shoving aside a shower curtain.

It was the air I noticed first as she pulled me— where it had been thick and humid on the platform, here it was dry, wispy. Then my feet sank an inch into the floor below, the surface almost gummy, as if we were walking on sponge. As Lucio was pulled in after me, I noticed that the wall was now behind me, and that we were in a small enclosure— one that appeared to have no doors or windows that I could see.

I avoided a row of potted plants as Lola continued to walk, pulling Darian then Slugger inside. I saw a small couch to my left, accompanied by a freshly made bed on my right, the sheets stretched tight over the frame. Ahead, there was a small table and reading light, then behind that a bookcase with a handful of thick volumes, followed by a rod that held a dozen hangers with new clothes. Clothes that my mother had bought Lola.

“Welcome to my room,” she said, turning a circle and gesturing. “Or more specifically, the other side.”

Chapter 31

“Where— where are we?” asked Lucio, his mouth hanging slightly open and eyes wide. “What’s wrong with this place?”

It took a moment for me to realize just what Lucio meant— at first, there was nothing too strange about the room we had entered. Or rather, there was nothing too strange about the objects in the room.

Everything else was alien.

There was no ceiling that I could see; rather, the room seemed to extend forever upwards in a shaft towards a dark sky, though it was only midday. Light seemed to play off the walls, gathering in the corners, dancing rainbow colors replacing the grey of concrete mixture. And the soft floor bent under my feet, though it appeared the same texture as concrete, the feel of the material unlike any I had ever touched when I bent down to touch it with my fingers.

But most striking was the light bulb above us, suspended by a lone wire to the walls, the filament visible through the glass. Where the tungsten wire should be glowing, there was only darkness. An active darkness that seemed to expand from the bulb itself, reaching the corners of the room to cast them in shadow, casting away the light rather than feeding it.

“It’s for the plants,” said Lola, reaching upwards and snapping the light bulb off when she noticed we were staring at it. “Wouldn’t want them to starve.”

She gestured at the pots that decorated the corners of the room, filled with flowers and ferns. The leaves were white rather than green, and a single white sunflower angled towards the bulb.

“Lola,” I said, as I realized that the passageway behind us had closed. “I’m with Lucio. Where are we?”

“This is where I go, when I disappear,” she answered, gesturing to the room. “And where I lived before you found me, SC. I had something similar to this in the academy when I needed to get away.”

“This same room?” asked Darian as he dragged a finger along the wall, pressing against it to ensure it pressed back. “Do you just return here?”

“No,” Lola said as she laughed, then pointed behind us where I had missed a door leading through the wall. “This entire place. Follow me, I’ll show you. There’s a variety of nomenclature for it — it occurs in stories, and there are those who end up in it when they should not. But I think the term that best describes it is your world’s shadow. Its counterpart. Now stay close, no wandering off.”

She opened the door, leading us outwards, to an area that vaguely resembled the platform. Except it was everything the platform wasn’t.

Like her room, colors and sourceless sunshine replaced the grey while the bulbs overhead shone black, giving the exact opposite impression of the dim lighting that we shared. Where our temporary rooms were there was only blank space, accompanied by a thin layer of dust and webbing that mounded around where larger objects like beds or dressers should be. Down towards the subway, the tracks had rusted clean through, appearing far older than they should. The places that were dry appeared wet, and those that were wet appeared dry— and below, our feet still bounced on the same spongy material that had made up Lola’s room.

“It’s not very impressive, for your first glance,” said Lola as we gawped, our necks straining as we tried to take in the sheer exoticness of our home. “But this isn’t a place of power. Those are far more interesting.”

“Would most say a good type of interesting or a bad type of interesting?” inquired Slugger, sniffing at the air, which seemed to bear the slight scent of flowers.

“That would depend upon your definition of interesting. Certainly not safe either way. Taking you here is strictly forbidden— most Transients would be murdered on the spot if word escaped that they had shown this to outsiders.”

“Most Transients?” asked Darian, asking the question on all of our tongues. Lola met his eye then spoke, elaborating no more on the subject.

“I’m not most Transients.”

As she talked, my gaze drifted, until my eyes latched on to a formation at the far end of the platforms. A mass of dark tunnels spiraled from a centerpoint there, hundreds of branches that forked and doubled back upon themselves before racing out of the station, passing through the walls on their exit. They shimmered with a static that seemed to rush along their outer edge, like insulation to a wire, the pulses racing in and out of their origin. And each started in a door frame— the doors that Peregrine had created as part of his machine.

I could see the spots where I had interacted with the branches, where I had twisted and knotted them together to conceal our tunnel, or how they were kinked before each of the door frames that cut off any flow through them. Lola caught my gaze and nodded, walking over to the machine.

“There are few instances where powers exist after their owner dies,” she said, laying a finger on one of the tunnels that erupted in static at her touch. “But of those phenomena that do exist, they straddle both realities. I doubt Peregrine knew exactly what he was doing here, but something like this is rarer than you know. Even my people only know of a handful, and half of them are unconfirmed.”

“And your people, who are they?” I asked,

“The Transients. We are walkers between worlds.”

Chapter 32

“Damn,” said Slugger, breaking the silence. “And here I was thinking I was in Kansas.”

We laughed, the sound echoing around the chamber and amplifying upon itself, while annoyance crossed over Lola’s face.

“You’re missing the point,” Lola said, crossing her arms. “While you pretended to read books you brought back from the library, I’ve been actually studying. SC, before you knew I was here, I watched you trying to work Peregrine’s machine, and I watched you fail.”

I frowned at that but nodded, knowing she was right. Despite my efforts, I doubted even a lifetime of working on the contraption could get it to work. I felt like a blind man trying to paint a picture— if my concentration lapsed for just a moment, I forgot which brush strokes I had already completed, or which colors I had mixed on my palette. Adding in the nausea and headaches only irritated an already impossible task. Then Lola continued.

“Like I said, contraptions and items like this have existed before. In myth or in isolated incidents. No one knows quite how they work, but there’s entire books written on the theory. Books most people think to be gibberish— and they are, halfway, because they don’t know about this, they don’t know about the other side. All their math theories are half baked, incomplete— but with my help, together, we can get that machine to reach a functional state.”

“Straight to the Amazon,” said Darian. “To cut Lacit off.”

“Straight to anywhere,” Lola said, eyes gleaming. “There’s no reason to limit it.”

“Then what are we waiting for?” Darian asked. “Let’s get started.”

They all looked to me, and I swallowed, remembering the nausea that came with Peregrine’s power. But we needed the machine, and I nodded to Lola.

“But first,” she said, “it’s not going to be easy to navigate — it is a rainforest. We’ll need a guide, and if Lacit is coming after us, we don’t want to let him know we’re ahead of him. Not just that, but they don’t let just anyone go on an expedition— you need permits, which mean either bribes or the black market if we want to get moving quickly.”

“Right, that means we need a plan,” I said, casting my thoughts around for a solution, but Lucio stepped forwards.

“And I have the perfect one!” he announced, and we huddled around him, listening as the words tumbled out of his mouth with excitement, sometimes too fast to comprehend. We had to make him repeat himself twice, but in the end, I nodded. Then I made a few tweaks, rounding out the corners of his idea, until smiles lit up around our group.

“I know you’ve just been waiting for an excuse to try it out,” said Slugger. “But it’ll work. Might even work well.”

“Then let’s begin,” I said.

***

“Left, a little more left,” Lola instructed. “No, not that much!”

“I’m trying, but you’re just a little distracting,” I answered, doing my best not to look at her. Or rather, the half of her that was visible, split directly down the center. With one eye in the other side and one eye in our world, she could watch my actions in both, guiding my power to activate the machine. “And, Lucio, you’re not making this any easier.”

Lucio pulled a face from his perch ten feet away, replacing the look of horrified fascination as he peered into Lola’s brain, watching the blood vessels on her neck pulse and half her tongue move as she talked. He’d been sitting there for several minutes as we worked, transfixed, and certainly not willing to come any closer.

During that time, Lola guided me as I stood in the center of Peregrine’s teleportation device, where there had once been a table for the purpose of creating environmental births. The doors surrounded me, each one disappearing in static, but I was focused on only one of them now. Tilting and adjusting space to connect to the dark tubes I had seen just beyond, when we had entered Lola’s world.

“Plus it’s rude,” she said.

“Can’t you do something a more, well, natural?” I grumbled, and shifted my stance, my stomach rearing up in protest.

“I can always feel the other side,” she said, squinting as she studied something invisible to me. “Tangibility is how I make sure I don’t materialize inside a wall. Lesser Transients can have the most unfortunate accidents. But no, for this, I need full visibility. It’s too complex. Alright, SC, now push just imperceptibly up, slowly, and there!”

Within the space in front of me, I felt something click into place, and the door was replaced by blackness instead of static.

“From what I can tell, you’re connected to the main. This entire contraption is like one massive tree branch — you’re at the base, and we’ll need to decide which path you’ll have to open.”

“And how, exactly, do we do that?” I asked.

“I can see which direction they go, so that’s a start. We’ll want south. How do you think Peregrine was able to do it?”

“Considering he engineered the thing from the ground up, I don’t think he left an instruction manual lying around,” I said, closing my eyes. “To him, it was probably second nature.”

“Well then,” she sniffed. “It’ll have to be trial and error. The scientific method. The locations will likely be grouped, so we just need to find the right region. From there, we’ll just have to keep opening doors.”

“Great, south,” I grumbled. “That means only half the doors are left. How many locations are there anyways? I’m going to need a bucket if there are any more than ten.”

“Can’t tell, but it’s a lot. Besides, at a decay rate of half each time, mathematically, we should arrive at an answer exponentially quick. Dividing by two each time will—”

“No!” said Lucio, pointing a finger at her. “I’ll tolerate you living here with us with your power, and I’ll tolerate half of your brains hanging out right now. But I escaped school for a reason, and I will not tolerate you bringing math here!”

Chapter 33

I stumbled, the room spinning as I completed the connection through the tunnel, the force of the ends snapping into place nearly sending me sprawling. My head buzzed with static as the fabric of reality frayed apart, the hole through it unnatural, wrong. And when I opened my eyes, the doorway revealed the roof of a warehouse with a cityscape far below.

“I need a break,” I gasped, hands on my knees. “Besides, this makes a good stopping point.”

“Not perfect, but it’ll work,” said Lucio, peering through the doorway while Lola marked a poster board with a marker. Her drawing resembled a partially drawn tree, with each of the branch tips labelled, though there were far more unfinished strands than capped ones. Prairie, Swamp, Seaside, and Equatorial were among the few words I could see as Lola directed the slow march to the Amazon, and each brought a fit of nausea with their memory. We were heading south— or so we hoped, our inference based mainly upon temperatures and the occasional landmark that one of us recognized. The city would be much easier to mark on the map.

“We’ll need to pass through one by one,” I stated, gesturing to the doorway. “There’s a pretty large height difference here; it’s a lot higher up than us. Jump through without my help and you’ll end up a block of frozen ice on the other side.”

“Yeah, I don’t want to get Peregrined,” Lucio said, and my ears burned as I looked away. I heard Darian slap him but pretended not to notice, instead focusing on the doorway. In school, we’d learned about locks used in canals to raise boats to different water levels— here, I would need to do the same thing, but with space.

“Who wants to go first?” I asked and was met by empty stares.

“How sure are you that this will work?” asked Lucio.

“Ninety percent,” I answered. “But if something goes wrong, I’ll get you out before there’s serious damage.”

Blank stares and silence met that statement.

“Ya cowards,” said Slugger when no one moved forwards. “I suppose I’ll be stepping up to the plate.”

He sauntered in front of the doorway, standing just inches away from the portal, and extended his index finger to the area where it converged. Slowly, he pushed the tip through and swiped downwards, pulling outwards to reveal a coating of frost over his nail surrounded by purple skin.

“Just don’t let the rest of me be like this, SC,” he said, shaking the finger in a miniature flurry of snow. “I don’t mind missing a bit of skin. An arm is a different story.”

“Then don’t move until I tell you to,” I answered, then focused through the door. I could feel the sharp distortion that created a plane between us and the city, like a wall that stretched upwards hundreds of feet, or a staircase with impossibly high intervals. With a slow breath outwards, I pressed down on the differential from the city, dropping it until there was no longer a gap.

“Alright, walk on through, then wait. No matter what, don’t come back through the door or you’ll be charcoal.”

“Reassuring,” stated Slugger, then he drew his finger across the gap again. But no ice formed, and it passed through without resistance. Taking a baseball from his pocket, he tossed it through the gap, watching as it bounced along the top of the warehouse roof and came to a rest five feet away. Then he paused, throwing back his shoulders with his chin raised. He approached the barrier, and the group held their breath as my hands started to shake.

“Any time now, Slugger,” I said. “Can’t hold this forever.”

And he strode through without flinching.

For a moment, he was still, then he turned, raising a hand with a smile.

“Oi, felt nothing. We good, SC?”

“No, I’ll need to raise you up—don’t move or you’ll leave my protection. Here’s the tricky part—it might feel weird, but don’t panic.”

“Again, real reassuring, SC. Might want to keep that to yourself in the future, I’d rather die in ignorance. Some of us have all the luck,” he said with a pointed look at Lucio.

Slowly, I released my grip on the space around Slugger, letting him rise back to the natural state of the city warehouse. With Slugger’s added mass, keeping a grip on the space was like trying to hold on to a slicked weightlifting plate. With a minor slip, it would come crashing down, and Slugger would come down with it.

“Feels like I’m riding an elevator,” Slugger said. “Starting to pop my ears. Hoping that’s right, SC?”

“Never done it before, but so long as you feel like you’re going up, I’d say yes. Stopping in just a moment. Ready— now. Go on, step forwards, and keep away from the door.”

“It makes sense,” chimed in Lola. “Pressure differential and all.”

I held my breath as he stepped away, then released a sigh of relief when he waited on the edge of the warehouse. My mother had forbade us from using the tunnel exits— and technically, we had broken no rules. But now our range of access had radically increased.

Then I turned to Lucio, Darian, and Lola, gesturing towards the portal.

“So, who’s next?”

Chapter 34

“Shopping lists!” announced Lucio, handing out a slip of paper to each of us, wrinkles creasing each page from where they had been shoved in his pocket. “Each item is essential to the plan.”

“Essential, eh?” asked Slugger, his eyes scanning a list he shared with Lola. “A tailored suit is essential? And why the hell do you need an ascot? Plus matching luggage?”

“You do realize,” added Lola, scrunching her nose, “that for it to be tailored, you actually have to be present. We can’t determine the proper measurements without you there.”

We stood atop the warehouse, staring out into the city. Behind us, the portal door waited, the display of the subway grossly contrasting with the blue sky beyond. Rust and pigeon droppings covered the sheet metal top of the building, and an old chain was wrapped twice around the nearest door, locking us out on the roof. But the metal practically crumbled in Slugger’s hands, years of rain rendering it useless and allowing us into the dark passageway beyond.

The inside was deserted—cobwebs covered the corners, and mice had chewed at the edges of the carpets. None of the light switches were operational, and both the heat and humidity had seeped from the outside walls to take residence in the corridors. We were sweating before we reached the elevator, the buttons failing to glow when we pressed them, the door remaining firmly shut after it had been turned off long ago. That left a dozen stories of the stairs, the railings dangling from where they had been ripped out of the walls, and fallen ceiling tiles broken on the steps.

“Just do your best to find the items,” said Lucio, waving a hand as we walked downwards. “We’ll figure it out. Make it look convincing, professional. Secondhand is fine. We don’t need them for long; they just need to pass for a glance.”

“What you’re asking for is impossible.” Lola huffed as we started downwards, her steps echoing off the walls for several floors.

“And you can walk through walls! I used to think that was impossible! How hard can it be? SC, you’re with me— we’ve got the major item.”

“Be back here in two hours!” I said to the others. “Stick together. This is a new city, but this landmark is pretty obvious, so it should be hard to get lost. You won’t know which streets are sketchy until you’re already on them, and everyone you meet has the advantage if a fight starts. Let’s get in and out without trouble.”

“Aye, captain,” said Slugger with a mock salute. “Besides, where are we?”

“By my best guess, Houston,” said Lola, squinting as she searched for clues. “But I only know from pictures. Should be pretty easy to figure out once we’re on ground level.”

“Right,” said Lucio, then he mocked a high-pitched voice. “Excuse me, sir, I seem to have forgotten what city I’m in, I promise I’m not crazy, but can you inform me?”

“Signs and maps do exist, if you can read,” sniffed Lola, and Darian chuckled.

“Funny,” Lucio responded. “But this is my plan you’re following, so that makes me more intelligent than you.”

“If that’s the case, I fear for our lives. Besides, that’s a non sequitur,” she retorted as we reached ground level, paused for a moment to catch our breath, then brushed dust off our clothes. Lucio muttered something about not having to speak Spanish to be intelligent, and I peeked out of the cracked doorway, my eyes adjusting to the bright sun overhead. The street outside was crowded, filled with lunch time traffic as local business emptied out into the drive, the warehouse an ugly mark on an otherwise trendy block.

We left one by one, melding into the crowd to avoid notice, the creaking door doing its best to announce our departure to the world each time we slipped out. Lucio and I turned right, stopping at a nearby convenience store for directions, while Lola and the others headed left. The puzzled clerk pored over a map for a few seconds before pointing us six blocks west. We struggled through the heat, the wet backs of our shirts sticking to our skin, the asphalt threatening to melt the bottom of our sneakers. With each step, the crowds thinned and we moved closer to the outskirts, cracks in the sidewalks and litter becoming more common, along with the frequency of cracks in car windshields.

Peering up at a blinking sign, we stopped at a glass-fronted store, the insides lit with buzzing fluorescents. A bell sounded as we entered, and Lucio placed both hands on the counter, tapping a brass chime for assistance. After a few moments, there was a rustling from the back room and a greying man emerged, his hands stained with ink and wearing a pullover sweater despite the heat. Dust sprinkled down from the ceiling as he closed the door behind him, hiding a computer that appeared to be nearly as old as myself and stacks of paperwork that wobbled perilously close to the edge of his desk.

“Can I help you two gentlemen?” he asked, flipping a sign on the window from closed to open. Technically, the store wouldn’t open until noon, and as his first customers of the day, we were five minutes early. Judging by the paint peeling off the walls and the dented car outside, we would have been welcomed inside even if we had been an hour early.

“Yes,” Lucio said, glancing down aisles filled with clutter. “We’re looking for a film camera. Looking to do some recording, but we only want the highest quality. The absolute best.”

Chapter 35

The man looked over Lucio and me, his eyes lingering on the patched clothes still streaked with cobwebs from the warehouse, and the pockets suspiciously missing thick wallets.

“There’s a superstore down the street. I’m sure they have what you need,” he said, turning back to the office. “I’m not cheap.”

“Neither are we,” said Lucio, dinging the chime again loud enough to make the man flinch. “And we’ll decide what’s too expensive. We’re paying customers, got plenty of jingle.”

“And we’ll only take a moment of your time,” I added, wondering where exactly Lucio drew the line for too expensive.

“Fine.” The man sighed and led us to the back of the shop, passing rows of tripods and a collection of old film movies to where several leather bound cases lined the shelves. We stepped over a cardboard box filled with cables and portable batteries, then leaned in for a closer look.

“We have six models here,” he said, gesturing. “All used, but vintage. If you want quality, the real deal, this is where you look. For digital—”

“We don’t want digital,” said Lucio, cutting him off. “We want pure, unadulterated art. Film.”

“You would search the front of the store,” continued the man, ignoring Lucio with a scowl. “Now, each of these has its benefits and its drawbacks.”

“We’ll need something portable,” interjected Lucio again. “Something that can handle a bit of abuse.”

“Then I’d recommend our digital collection—”

“No, no digital. I already said that.”

“Fine,” sighed the man again. “That narrows us down to these three. This model is three thousand and four hundred dollars, but fantastic picture. Microphone needs some attention, however. Here, I can settle for just above four grand, but it’s bulky. And nothing less than six grand for this one, but it’s difficult to beat.”

“And what about that one?” Lucio asked, gesturing to the top shelf, where there was the only case that had been regularly dusted.

“Boy, spare me the time; there’s no way you could afford that one.”

“You’re right,” said Lucio as he stood on tiptoe, his eyes squinting to read the label. “If it wasn’t broken. But good luck finding parts for it. You’d have to travel back twenty years with a rabbit’s foot to have a chance. That’s just taking up space on your shelf.”

“If it was working, it would fetch fifteen grand. And with the right collector—”

“Right, if you find the right collector. Or we can take it off your hands now. Perhaps I’m your right collector.”

The man chewed on his lip, thinking.

“It’s going to take an expert to repair it. I’ve tried, and though I’m not particularly strong with electromancy, I know when something is broken. You’d be better off buying something new. Chances are you’ll only break it further if you try to fix it, and that would be a tragedy in itself. I couldn’t let it go to a home that will ruin it. These are practically one of a kind.”

“Maybe I just want it for my shelf,” Lucio pressed. “Or maybe I know a guy. But we have cash, and we have it now. Lord knows you need it.”

The man retrieved a stool from the front of the shop, then climbed up with trembling legs to reach the recorder. Cradling it like a baby, he carried it to a small table, throwing back the cover and moving the yellowed instruction manual to give us a full view.

“She’s gorgeous,” whispered Lucio, rubbing his hand along the one-and-a-half-foot length of the camera. “No lens scratches, no nicks, no dents. Alex Ficher’s own favorite brand, his only brand; he won’t touch anything else. Just look at it, SC.”

“What’s it going to run us?” I asked instead as Lucio’s eyes glossed over.

“In its condition, lowest I can go is fifteen hundred,” said the owner, and I paled.

“There’s no way—” I started, but Lucio grabbed my wrist, pulling me to the other end of the store.

“SC, you don’t understand,” he hissed. “If we want to pull this off, it has to look like the real deal. We can’t go halfway. And this is an absolute steal.”

“It’s broken, Lucio. It’s probably worth nothing.”

“We don’t even need it to work for the plan! It just has to look good!” he exclaimed. “But trust me, even broken, this is incredible. Back home, we could sell if for twice this. Think of it as an investment.”

“I don’t know,” I started. “Besides, we’d have to go back to get the money. It’ll take two trips.”

“Can I at least get a yes from you first?” he said, practically begging and placing a hand on my shoulder. “SC, do you want to catch Lacit or not? Nothing else will do.”

I hesitated, turning back to the camera on the table, then to Lucio, cracking my knuckles. Fifteen hundred dollars was more than I had ever seen, let alone held. I knew we had at least twice that in our reserves from selling construction materials, but that money was supposed to last us months. And feeding six mouths made it disappear at a far faster rate than I would ever guess. But if Lucio was right, and we could resell it after the plan, then there were no negatives.

“Fine,” I said, thinking we could bounce the idea off the rest of the group before we returned to the subway and get a second opinion.

“Perfect!” exclaimed Lucio, then walked back to the store owner, handing him a thick envelope he had hidden inside his shirt, the corners wet with sweat. “You’ll find all you need in there. Wonderful doing business with you, sir!”

Then he zipped up the camera bag before I could object, and led me out of the shop, picking up a Holt’s Film Equipment card on the way out the door.

“You stole that from us?” I hissed as we reached the street and Lucio whistled.

“Stole? Stole? I borrowed, SC, and you said yes! You gave me your explicit permission!”

“Then you tricked me! I never would have said yes if I knew.” I struggled to keep up with him as he held the case close to his chest, beelining back towards the warehouse.

“SC, you heard him. This camera is worth fifteen grand, and we got it for a tenth of that! This was the deal of the century!”

“Right, if it was working. But it’s not; it’s broken!”

“Broken?” Lucio asked, his voice innocent as a smile tugged at the corner of his lips, quickening his pace and glancing over his shoulder to the shop receding in the distance. “Who said it was broken?”

Chapter 36

“Lucio, don’t tell me that you pulled a fast one back there,” I said, my heart rate quickening.

“Fine, I won’t tell you. Is that better?” he answered, still grinning.

“No,” I grumbled, staring at the case he clutched. “We should return it.”

“And get arrested? Put the plan in peril? Look, if it bothers you, SC, we’ll return it when we’re done. Think of it like borrowing. Besides, they’ll never catch us— we’ll be back home, and they’ll be searching here, hundreds of miles away. Couldn’t be safer.”

“It’s not right; that store owner didn’t do anything to us.”

“And the camera would have collected dust on the top shelf until he died!” Lucio said, exasperated and angling his body away from me to protect the camera from my reach.

I frowned at that statement, remembering the back corner that had hid the camera. “Doesn’t matter; it wasn’t ours to take.”

“Then it’s on me, SC, not you. I decided to take it, and I’m still deciding to take it. My decision, my risk.”

“Fine,” I said, then remembered my mother’s words from only a few days before, stinging as I said them. “But it’s not just your risk, Lucio. It’s all of ours.”

We returned to the warehouse, climbing the steps to find an empty roof, and waited next to the portal for the others. A half hour later, they arrived, Slugger and Darian each lugging bulging suitcases up the flights of stairs.

“Finally,” Darian huffed, hands on his knees when they emerged. “Gifts for your highness.” He bowed to Lucio, then he turned to Lola, who followed close behind them. “Though princess here refused to carry anything more than a handbag.”

Lola’s face went cold and she fixed him with a stare, then huffed and continued to walk. “You should bow to me, then, if you wish to be socially correct,” she said over her shoulder, tossing her hair as Slugger spoke up.

“Oi, if you wanted it lighter, all you had to do was ask,” he said, throwing his bag in the air as if it were empty.

“What? Damn, I forgot. What the hell, Slugger? Why would you not have offered?” Darian asked, staring after Lola with his lips pursed and sweat dripping from his forehead.

“More entertaining to watch! Besides, the exercise could do ya some good! Getting a little pudgy from your stay in the high class life.” He poked at Darian’s stomach, while Darian swatted him away. Lucio walked over to inspect the bags, unzipping them and flipping them open to view the contents.

“What?! There’s a hole in this at the elbow!” he exclaimed, holding up the suit he requested. “And you don’t fold a suit.”

“Finest that the thrift store could offer,” said Slugger. “Besides, when did you become an expert in clothing? Last I checked, you wore the same shirt three days in a row.”

“It’s called method acting, Slugger. It’s a technique. I’m not being me, I’m being my role.”

“And it’s the only way you’ll show some class!” jabbed Darian, while Lola hid a smile.

Ignoring them, Lucio continued sifting through the bags, checking items off a list and shaking his head with disapproval. He held a scrunched shirt up to the light, running his thumb over a missing button before balling it up and throwing it off the edge of the roof.

“Not good enough; it has to go,” he said then closed the bags. “Good thing you bought two.”

“You can do your own shopping if you’re going to be insufferable,” said Lola, watching the shirt as it fell to the street below.

“I’m just trying to make sure this works,” protested Lucio. “This plan is like planting a memory. The smallest of details can unravel everything. We have to cover what we can and divert attention away from what we can’t. We need full immersion — it’s like a Hollywood set; it doesn’t matter if the buildings are fake and barely standing, it just matters that they look real and are standing. The second someone starts poking around, the set caves in, and that’s when we’re in trouble.”

“Then you just alter their memory, and we’re good to go,” said Lola, waving a hand.

“No— my ability rests on their belief,” Lucio said. “If they know it’s a lie, it’s worthless. Instead, how about you just pull us into the other side as an escape?”

“Never speak of that again,” she hissed, checking the rooftop to make sure we were alone. “At all costs, we avoid the other side after we leave. There are more eyes where we are going, more Transients. We will not pass through unseen.”

“So what? I don’t get what the problem is. Not like we’re trespassing. Plus, you’ve been using it as your personal garbage disposal.”

“The other side is considered sacred ground to many. To step in there without being a Transient, or even as an unworthy Transient, means death. Objects are different, objects hold no morality, they can be brought to either world without qualms. But of all people, how do you think your actions would stand up against a tribunal of the religious?”

“Oi, I was raised Catholic. I can give you an indication,” Slugger said, then pointed around the group, starting with Lucio.

“Hell, and I don’t even need to list the sins. Something or other about bearing false witness, which is your specialty.”

Then his finger landed on Darian.

“Purgatory. You’ve still got a chance but better shape up.”

“Appreciate the compliment, Slugger,” said Darian with a nod.

“SC will join you there, if he gets his thoughts off revenge,” Slugger continued, and I shivered at the thought, the image of Larissa in the alleyway rolling through my mind once more. There was no judgment that could defend that. I bit my lip and closed my fist, pushing away the sensation of my power that lingered with the dark orb above my wrist. I’d have to be more careful.

“Lola, Hell,” announced Slugger. “I don’t remember much about church, but pride is supposed to be a sin. You can’t make that one disappear. And me? Well, I’ve got loads of sins, but among them is being a liar, so I’ll be in Heaven. For your sake, I hope they give out plus ones on their invitations.”

Lola rolled her eyes as he laughed, and I started adjusting the space around the portal. I’d started to become more used to the distortion, but a headache still lingered from earlier in the day, interfering with my concentration. But after two tries, Slugger stepped through with half the luggage, and the others followed. Then I alone stood on the rooftop, the heat of the sun reflecting off the metal onto my skin, sweat dripping down my back. Hearing Slugger’s voice repeated in my mind.

“Purgatory, Hell,” it said. And the words were repeated by a chorus of other voices, Larissa’s and Peregrine’s, then Roland, and my mother. Swallowing, I stepped through the portal, closing it rapidly behind me to leave them behind.

But my power could not shut them away, and they followed unbidden, their whispers in the corners of my mind.

Chapter 37

We hid the supplies in Lola’s room then ate dinner under my mother’s glare. She’d spent half an hour checking her traps, making sure that none of the fishing lines had been removed and that none of our shoes bore the telltale blue paint. So far, everything had come back clean— all except for the looks on our faces and the silence at the table.

“Lucio, aren’t you going to ask for seconds?” my mother asked, her eyes narrowing when he shook his head.

“Ah, no thanks, miss, that was plenty tonight!” he answered, swirling the mashed potatoes around his plate to break up lakes of gravy.

“That’s polite of you, Lucio,” she answered, then looked to her left. “And you, Darian, how was your day?”

“The usual,” Darian said, his face stone, his mouth chewing mechanically before he spoke. “Brushed up on studying, then beat Lucio in some chess.”

“Do you even play chess, Lucio?” my mother inquired, her gaze lingering on Darian.

“Poorly,” piped up Slugger when Lucio froze. “Darian only got him to play because he said the rules were the same as checkers! Child cruelty, it was, watching that match.”

“And you, Lola? What did you think about today?” My mother scanned her like a polygraph, though Lola held up to the test.

“Nothing out of the ordinary,” she said, flipping the page of her book in her lap and wiping her mouth with a napkin. “I did finish two hundred pages of reading, which means they weren’t too obnoxious.”

“Good!” said my mother, folding her arms across her chest. “See? We can have a normal day here, we can have fun without going above ground! And then we can plan some events where we all go together, safely.”

We finished dinner, and each of us retired to our rooms, but not before my mother pulled me aside. And when she spoke, my eyes were cast at the floor, not meeting hers.

“Look, SC. I know you’re mad at me, but I just wanted to let you know I’m proud of you,”

“Thanks,” I mumbled, then helped her with the dishes.  Soon after, she retired to her room, after which she would be cleaning up in the shower we had found- here in the underground, they were my mother’s small luxury, and without a water bill she usually took at least an hour to clean off the anxiety of the day.

Behind me, Lola disappeared— though she had reservations about transporting us through the other side; to her, it seemed more of a home than our own world. Even her body seemed more solid there, her hair less translucent, her skin more tangible. As if she belonged there more than here.

But now, Lola was spiriting away with a message, passing through my mother’s traps without stirring them. Heading to the world above, as I made my way to Lucio’s room.

I stepped over mounds of clothes and granola bar wrappers that were clogged like a dam at the entrance, avoiding the clutter strewn from the empty shelves onto the floor. Dodging a dresser drawer that was half thrust outwards, I stopped at the edge of his bed, peering down at Lucio, who lay on his back among a nest of covers. He held a book above him, the one he had checked out from the library, Perspective Makes a Scene, and blew a lock of blonde hair out of his eyes.

“All right, director,” I said when he put it down. “You ready for this? Got any last-minute requests?”

“Stage is set, script written, music scored,” he responded, sitting up to lean against the backboard and crossing his hands over his chest. “Let’s just hope the actors remember their lines.”

“You just have to trust them,” I said. “Let them improvise a bit. They’re smart, they can figure it out on their own. It doesn’t have to be perfect.”

“It does have to be perfect!” he protested, slamming his fist down on the mattress. “One wrong move, SC, and the entire plan comes undone. Do you know what Ficher uses for his movie props? He uses the real deal— in A Pharaoh's Way, he filmed actual ancient artifacts! The value of his set was worth more than the sales at the box office!”

“Lucio, you said it yourself— it’s much easier to believe a lie when you think it’s truth. Everyone watching a movie knows it’s a lie. They’re looking to disprove it. But everyone will think our story is true— they’ll be looking for reasons to support that. Give them reasons to follow, rather than trying to hide the flaws that will give them doubts. And I think that will help resolve your problem with your actors too.”

“It’s easy to say that.” He shifted, crossing his legs. “But all the cracks seem obvious. How did you do it, when we followed your plan?”

“I think the first step is to believe in it,” I said, then hesitated. “Or at least, to pretend to.”

Chapter 38

“You were going to leave me behind again, weren’t you!” accused Arial, her finger pointing at me as she attempted to comb her hair back into place after her flight. She’d zipped through the tunnels and now picked out fishing line that had tangled around her shirt, dragging small pieces of tape after her. “Why all the fishing line? Were you trying to net me?”

“I attempted to warn her,” said Lola, popping into place next to Arial and causing her to jump six feet into the air.

“And what’s this about?” Arial continued from above, gesturing at Lola. “She lives with you now? How come you didn’t tell me about this?”

“Technically, she’s always been here,” Slugger said, then fell silent under my glare.

“Not helping, Slugger,” I said. “But that’s why we sent her to get you, Arial, because we didn’t want you to be left behind. And we would have kept you in the loop, but we’ve been under house arrest. My mother had enough of us sneaking out. Everything happened pretty fast.”

“Well, while you all have been lounging around down here, I’ve been keeping an eye out for police activity. Just a few days ago, I think they almost found who they were looking for— there’s a huge section of the street ripped up where they were searching, but they left empty-handed. By the time I got there, the person had disappeared. Since then, I’ve been up on the skyscraper each night, but I haven’t seen anything out of the normal.”

Slugger whistled then stood up from his chair and turned to walk away. “Oh, someone’s in trouble now,” he said over his shoulder. “I think I’ll be watching this one from a distance. Wouldn’t want my hair to get singed.”

“What’s he talking about?” demanded Arial, narrowing her eyes at me.

“Well, erm, we sort of found who they were looking for,” I started as Slugger backed further away. “Like a week ago or so.”

“And so you just had me perching atop a skyscraper for fun? Do you know how many hours of sleep I lost?” Arial demanded. “Did you really just leave me up there for no reason at all?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to forget about you, but—”

“You forgot about me?” Her voice raised as she quivered, her face turning a deep red. “All this time, I thought I was helping you out and you forgot? Were you planning on just leaving me on that rooftop in surveillance forever?”

“Look, I’m sorry,” I answered, keeping my voice calm. “A lot has happened. I didn’t mean to keep you in the dark. Things are heating up with Lacit and we’ll need to move quick if we want to stop him.”

“Hah! See, it would have been so much easier if you just reached out!” She threw her shoulders back and raised her chin in the air as she drifted downwards. “We don’t have to worry about Lacit anymore— just yesterday, I tailed his cop car to the airport, where he was dropped off. By the looks of his baggage, he’s gone for good!”

“He’s what?” I stammered while my face paled. “You saw him go?”

“Yup!” she proclaimed with a smile. “So it sounds like that problem solved itself.”

“No, you don’t understand,” I started urgently. “Arial, I need you to tell us what time you saw him arrive at the airport. When did he get there?”

“What don’t I understand?” she asked, the confidence billowing over her. “What’s wrong?”

“First, when did he leave?”

“I don’t know, around ten last night?” she said, scrunching her eyebrows together. “Maybe ten fifteen?”

“Slugger, Darian,” I called. “Find out what flights left the airport between eleven and one last night heading near the Amazon. Lola, go with them. They might need your help with geography.”

“Yes, sir!” chimed Darian. They’d need a phone, but the pay phones in the tunnels above still worked, and Arial had already set off all my mother’s traps.

“Did I do something?” pried Arial. “I still don’t understand what’s wrong.”

“No, it’s not your fault,” I said, then explained everything. How they were looking for Lola, how Lacit was heading to the Amazon. And how we had to cut him off before he completed his mission. Her face fell while her shoulders slumped as I finished, her voice deflated as she spoke.

“So it’s bad I let him go; no, that I let him escape,” she said.

“Well, it’s bad he got away, but good that we now know and we know where he’s going,” I said. “And good because we can now catch him. Slugger, Darian, what’s the flight status?”

“Two flights from here to South America during that time,” Darian responded, and behind him, Lola spoke up.

“But only one that we’re interested in. There’s a layover, so he’ll be getting in within a few hours.”

“All right, everyone,” I announced as their eyes turned towards me. Darian, pensive and waiting. Slugger, ready to steal the next base. Lucio with the camera under one arm, expectant. Arial, itching to prove herself again after the news of Lacit. Lola, half smiling as she calculated what was about to occur, and half shimmering within this world. I took a breath, then continued.

“When we were at the academy, Siri kept us under her foot, trying to control our every move. To bend us to her will. Make no mistake, Lacit is of the same breed— he’s no different, and though his words may not be as sweet as hers, his power is every bit as dangerous. Beneath his police force is the entire city, an entire city he wants to manipulate. Now it’s up to us to stop him.

“I don’t know what he wants. I don’t know what he wants to do with it. But I do know where he is going, and I know if he isn’t stopped, it’s going to be bad. Worse than under Siri. The responsibility is ours because there’s no one else we can turn to. There’s no one else who will take the job.

“You have one hour. Pack up, then we move as soon as my mother returns. Lucio, be ready to plant some memories- I don’t like to rely on that, but we’ll need some cover.  Then it’s time to cut Lacit off before he reaches the heart of the Amazon.”

Part 2

Chapter 39

Wind blasted into me like an open furnace as I stood across the crag, sweat rolling down my back in a response to the humidity and my eyes squinting against the burning sun. I was on an island, with no company but sparse trees and bushes, their roots clutching rocky soil in protest as their backs bent beneath the torrent. In every direction, the land fell away in cliffs, the sharp angle leaving nothing but air between me and the ground for hundreds of feet. And below was a sea of green, trees that waved their boughs far below, beckoning me to join their number.

I shifted the space behind me, and there was a gasp as a second person emerged from the open portal door, her hand sheltering her pupils from the light.

“It’s amazing,” Arial whispered, coming beside me and staring below, her eyes tracing a river that snaked into the distance. A few miles from us, it met the horizon in a glittering point where the solid greenery yielded to patches, and buildings pressed in protest against the border of the rainforest. Tropical birds in rainbow hues flitted in and out of the trees below, specks of red, yellow, and blue that peppered the leaves. The howling of monkeys drifted up towards us, barely audible at this distance, and the originators hidden by foliage.

“And it’s huge,” I said, turning in a circle. A space this large complicated searching for Lacit, and I knew the Amazon extended far beyond my line of sight. More importantly, it made searching for what Lacit was trying to find for nearly impossible. “That’s a major disadvantage.”

“Not so,” said Lola, stepping through. “Because I know where we are going. Lacit, however, does not.” Arial frowned, and a disgruntled Lucio leapt through the portal just centimeters behind Lola.

“Then why did you insist on a guide?” he asked. “Let’s just go there directly.”

“If I told you to walk to New York City from your house, you might be able to do it,” said Lola. “But you’d arrive disheveled, weeks late, and penniless. Where we’re going is several times harder to reach. I could point us in the right direction, and I could get us there, but getting us there alive is another objective entirely.”

“Ah, good to know we’re already contemplating death before I’ve even arrived,” said Slugger as he joined us. “Keeping things nice and cheery just like usual, eh?”

“I’d expect no less,” added Darian as he arrived. He sniffed the air and rolled his neck, peering at the birds far below while basking in the sunlight. “But this place already beats the subway dungeon. I could get used to this.”

“You? Get used to somewhere?” interjected Lucio with a sharp laugh. “You’ve been here ten seconds! I’ll believe it when I see it, and I’d bet money that you couldn’t spend a year in one location over your entire life.”

“At least when I leave, it’s of my own accord, and I’m not kicked out each time,” retorted Darian. “Anyways, I just haven’t found anywhere I like it yet.”

“Well, don’t go running off just yet,” I said and walked to the edge of the cliff, keeping a healthy distance from where moss made the ground slick and cracks raced through rock closest to the side. I braced myself against another bout of wind, my stomach lurching as I was pushed towards the empty space, and caught sight of a road far below.

“That will take us to the city,” said Lola, following my stare. “But it won’t take us far into the forest. We’ll have to find our guide for that.”

“Well, Arial,” I said, turning to face her. “I promised I wouldn’t leave you behind, and now we need you as well!”

“Ah, so I’m to be a glorified ferry?” she asked.

“Better than a blimp,” smirked Lucio, and she swatted at him.

“You and Darian both. Darian, you get the baggage. Until you’re confident flying, you shouldn’t be transporting people.”

“We could just drop it over the edge,” he said, as Lucio’s face paled and he lunged for the camera case, his knuckles white on the handle. “Kidding, Lucio, kidding. I need to practice anyways. Flying is one of those powers where if you forget how it works halfway, it can be a real problem. Gliding can turn to falling real quick.”

“Take a couple laps to get the hang of it, then,” I said as Arial hovered while Darian concentrated on her, then rose into the air himself, shaking just a few feet above the ground. He leaned left, then right, his body following the motions in a slightly delayed fashion. I watched as he turned a full circle, then tilted in the air, losing several feet then catching himself as he reached an odd angle.

“I’d keep moving,” I said. “Staying stationary looks more difficult, and — whoa!”

From behind, two hands shoved against my shoulder blades with enough force to send me stumbling. My heels tried to catch, but the ground was too slick, my fingers raking across the moss as my shouts turned to screams. The edge of the cliff approached in slow motion and I somersaulted over it, the world spinning as I turned upside down. Wind rushed through my ears as I accelerated downwards, my heart ceasing to beat, my eyes widening as the trees reached up to receive me. I forgot to breathe. And I forgot to think, adrenaline freezing my thoughts as my natural instinct fought to react to a situation beyond its control.

Then I felt fingers hook under my armpits as brunette hair whipped around me, and Arial’s voice shouted above the howl.

“Never gets old! Sometimes, you just make it too easy!”

Chapter 40

We glided in a long arc, corkscrewing around the spire of the crag in a path mere inches away from the stony outcroppings. Vines dangled past, leafy offshoots reaching out like fingers to brush past our rippling clothes, while sheltering birds’ nests perched on precariously thin ledges of rock. A lizard glared at us for interrupting his sunbathing session, and spiders darted into the shadows from the center of their webs. And as we sank to the tree level, the rainforest displayed its sheer size in a sea of endless green that stretched on beyond comprehension.

Arial dropped me into soft ferns from five feet up, and I rolled through the verdant landing patch before reaching my feet. I brushed dirt off my pants as she faced me, her feet a foot above the ground. For a moment, neither of us spoke, then I broke the silence.

“We’re still pretty far from the road,” I said, gesturing in its general direction.

“I know. I thought we might want a couple minutes away from the others,” she said, dropping down to the balls of her feet, landing far more gracefully than I had.

“You also didn’t have to push me off a cliff and drop me,” I said, rubbing my heels, which were sore from the impact.

“I think I did; you deserved it,” she retorted. “Is there a reason why you’ve been keeping me out of the loop?” Then her voice softened. “Should I know about something? Have you been seeing Lola?”

“Lola? No, it’s not like that at all, Arial!” I said, stepping closer, but she bristled. “Look, we had to take her in. There’s nothing between us at all, and there’s no privacy at our home, so there’s no way we could hide it.”

“Just don’t lie to me, SC,” she said, avoiding my gaze, choosing instead to look towards the ferns. “And I’m sorry about not telling you about Lacit. I didn’t know it was important.”

“It was my fault for not checking up on you sooner,” I said, hugging her. At first she stiffened, but then relaxed, and I felt her head on my shoulder as the sweet scent of her hair filled my nostrils. “Things just got carried away.”

“I’m sorry if I’m not good enough,” she muttered. I released her, then looked into her eyes, searching them as I spoke.

“Arial, that’s not it at all. Of course you are. But it’s not about how good you are; it’s about who you are.”

“Good, just don’t leave me behind again, okay?” she asked. “I know I’m not living with you right now like everyone else is. I don’t want to be forgotten.”

“Trust me Arial,” I answered. “You’re the last thing I would ever forget.”

“That means a lot, SC,” she said. “I’ll go fetch the others.”

She rose into the air and streaked away, back to the top of the crag. But Arial had forgotten something herself— I was still several hundred feet away from the road.

Then I sighed and started trudging through the forest.

Maybe she had not forgotten.

***

Twenty minutes later, I reached the road, just as Darian settled the last of the luggage down on the gravel.

“It’s much easier when you get the hang of it,” he said, smiling, and turned a slow backflip in the air. Halfway through, he stopped, the angle interfering with his new power as he tumbled to the ground, his shoulder hitting the road first as he let out a grunt.

“Oi, we got a master flyer here,” said Slugger, nudging Darian with his foot as he groaned. “MVP for sure. Good thing you only carried luggage. That’ll teach ya for showing off.”

We started walking towards the city, each of us with arms full of bags. Slugger moved back and forth across the line, his fingers brushing against each of the items to decrease their weight, making it feel as if we carried bundles full of air.

“Was all this really necessary?” asked Lola to Lucio as a package slipped from her hand and she fished it out of the dirt.

“Careful with that!” he scolded, picking it up to balance it in a tower of items already in his arms. “We can’t damage the props! And yes, we need it all. Speaking of which, it’s time to discuss the plan. We’ll be calling the first taxi we see after we reach the city center, and you’ll need to be ready by then. So at the first chance, we have to get changed. And leave your personalities behind. You are you no more— it’s time to become someone else.”

Chapter 41

“Hybrids?” shouted a voice from a nearby tent. “Hybrids for the lady? Only the best from here! Like nothing you’ve tasted. I swear it on my own mother!”

Just thirty minutes before we had entered the city, the gravel road yielding to concrete as dilapidated buildings started to buzz with life. Short-haired cats stalked out of alleyways, their yellow eyes watching us with suspicion as we marched forwards. Young faces peered down from open windows, then quickly ducked out of sight before we could meet their expressions. And gradually, we left the outskirts behind to enter a market thick with merchants shouting their wares, eager to sell us flashy goods identical to their neighbors’.

“Hybrids!” shouted the man again, catching Arial’s attention. He jiggled as he walked over, strands of beads sewn into his shirt jostling against each other, and locked her in his gaze as he smiled to reveal a chipped front tooth. Grey strands mixed with the sweat in his hair as he grasped her hand and pulled her closer before she could react, gesturing towards the shelves behind him. Dozens of fruits lined the wood, each plump and ripe, shining in small lamps that amplified their color.

“Sorry,” said Arial, trying to pull away. “I don’t—”

“The best hybrids in the city,” the man insisted, then picked a grape and a strawberry from the shelf. He pushed one into each of her palms, then clasped the backs of her hands in his own, pushing the fruit together in the center of her cupped fingers. He paused, holding them there for a second, then released her, peeling back her fingers like a blooming flower.

There, the two fruit had merged into one, a single small oval the size of a grape with the texture of a strawberry.

“For the lady,” said the man, plucking it from her and holding to the light. “I have a special deal— half off any orders over a dozen.”

“Erm—” started Arial, subconsciously reaching for her wallet, but Lola stopped her hand.

“Just the one!” she ordered, dropping some loose change onto the merchant’s countertop as she pulled Arial away. “The rest of you, keep moving. Lucio, check your pocket.”

“Hey!” Lucio exclaimed as he reached down only to find another hand extracting his wallet. He whipped around to spot a boy his age crouched behind him, his task nearly complete.

“Scat, get!” Lucio shouted, waving his hands as the boy scurried away. “Keep your fingers off me! Thieves code, we don’t steal from each other!”

“Looks like we need to go over some ground rules,” said Lola, pulling us into a small alcove between stalls. “Here, you are tourists. And tourists are generally incompetent. That means anyone who can sell you anything will try to rip you off, and anyone who can target you will try to steal from you. First rule,” she said, pointing to Arial, who still held the grape-berry in her hand. “Is never to make eye contact with a vendor. Once you do that, it’s game over, and they’ll reel you in. Second is never to show where your wallet is. There’s plenty of watching eyes, and we stand out here. Which brings us to rule three, that Lucio just learned— keep your wallet secure. Now we’re walking targets here with all our luggage— let’s get out into a main street.”

“Good idea,” said Lucio, then commanded in an overly loud voice, “Like she said, to the main street!”

Lola led us around the back of the stalls, ducking and weaving as we moved. We passed hundreds of merchants, men and women selling bright fabrics and oddities, plus a dozen others offering hybrids when they saw the fruit Arial carried. When we broke out away from the market and into an intersection, she popped it into her mouth, then pulled a face and spat it on the ground.

“Ugh,” she said, spitting again to scrub away the flavor from her tongue. “That’s disgusting! I don’t think I’ve ever had anything so tart, and the texture is slimy!”

Lola laughed, turning back to her. “Anyone with enough skill to make a hybrid worth eating certainly won’t be found at a back market stall. They’ll have their own shop— the power is in demand for the talented, but the lower strength ones can only control a single aspect. It’s the top ones that can truly blend essences, but you won’t find them for cheap, should you find them at all.”

“I’m not sure if I’d ever want to find them,” said Arial, her face still puckered.

“Oh, but you will!” said Lola. “Some of the best foods are hybrids, and many of the greatest exports. But food is just one application. I’m sure you’ve seen some of the pets they can make— but those take the greater part of a month to craft, and if you skimp on cash, the temperament can be quite challenging.”

“Pets?” asked Lucio. “What do you mean by that?”

“Why have a cat or a dog, when you can have both?” Lola asked. “But that’s a simple example. Flying monkeys or fish that survive off sunlight alone are just a few other possibilities. Like I said, expensive, and often unstable. But mere trinkets for the rich.”

“And illegal,” Arial said. “Sounds like it’s animal cruelty.”

“Only if butchered,” said Lola. “And we have no such laws here. I’d advise caution when saying that to a Blender— many of them are vegetarians from their love of animals. Now, Lucio, we’re near the city center.”

“We need to get off the streets, the sooner the better,” I said. “Let’s get moving.”

Lucio found a dark alleyway, and we took turns changing our clothes and replacing the contents of the luggage. Then he raised a hand to call a cab and regretfully parted with some of our dangerously low cash as the vehicle darted through the city blocks.

Chapter 42

The six laughing teenagers who entered the hotel lobby snubbed the doorman on their way inside, leaving their luggage in a scattered pile on the pavement. Other guests looked up in irritation as their raucous voices echoed through the expanse, jarring with the chords of the pianist seated at the glossy black grand in the corner and overriding the white noise of the sparkling fountain centerpiece. One accidentally dropped a glass at the complimentary infused water station, then impatiently gestured to the attendants to pick up the shards before serving himself another and following their leader at the head of the group.

In contrast to the insufferable climate, he was dressed sharp— his cufflinks sparkled brighter than the chandelier, he could see his own reflection in the shine of his shoes, and the kerchief that peeked out from his breast pocket touted a monogram of his initials. There was a spring to his step, a pompous swagger that demanded attention, and declared that any who opposed him would be sued into a lifetime of crippling debt. He sneered when he reached the front desk, ringing the bell twice despite an attendant already hurrying his way, annoyance crossing his face as he drummed his fingers on the counter.

Only on close inspection could the hole in the suit on his left elbow be noticed, one that was currently being covered by the chatty brunette girl who linked arms with him, her hair cascading over the flaw. Or the black paint that covered the chip on the wooden base of his shoe, as well as the glue seam that held it together. Perhaps most obvious were the ripped belt loops of his pants, secured with electrical tape and hidden under the sway of his suit, that threatened to be exposed with every step.

“Be careful with that!” he shouted at the porters as they trickled in with the luggage carelessly left outside. “That camera is worth more than you are! And so help me God, if there is the smallest chip on the lens, there will be hell to pay. You hear? Am I clear? Hell!”

“Yessir.” The porter nodded, averting his gaze. He’d learned long ago that it was the young ones that were the most trouble, the ones with an inheritance worth more than the hotel. Best to smile and nod now, then spit in their soup later.

Lucio sighed then rang the bell again, directly under the nose of a waiting clerk dressed in a red blazer with her hair bound in a tight bun.

“Are you finished dallying? Our flight was delayed six hours; will we be waiting the same amount of time for our rooms?” he demanded, while Arial reprimanded him on his arm.

“Hush,” Arial said, with an apologetic look at the clerk before turning back to him. “You really can’t expect the same level of service here. Relax, honey. It’s just not in their culture; they really don’t know better. It’s how they were raised.”

The clerk’s momentary smile flipped as she stared, her face turning a shade of deep red to match her attire.

“Well?” demanded Lucio, practically spitting at her. “Well?”

“Do you have a reservation?” she asked after a moment’s recovery. “What name is the room under?”

“My name?” he asked, incredulous, and turned to face us. “She wants to know my name!”

We laughed in astonishment, our bawdy voices interrupting the pianist once more. I considered dropping another glass of water to further irritate the staff but decided against it— the first attendant had looked daggers at me when I snapped my fingers to clean the mess.

“Do you really not know who he is?” hissed Darian, leaning over the countertop. “There truly is no culture here! I told you all, we’re spending the next few weeks living with barbarians running amok.”

“If there’s no caviar at breakfast, I’m leaving,” wined Lola from on his arm. “We could have spent this weekend in the Barcelona with my parents. They would have caviar.”

“Please, bring me someone competent,” demanded Lucio, waving his arm at the clerk. “Is there a manager here? Someone who can handle this properly?”

“One moment, sir,” said the clerk, her voice low and struggling to hold an edge. She disappeared into a back room, then was followed back by a rotund woman holding a stack of papers atop a clipboard. When her eyes met Lucio’s, she gasped, dropping the papers in a flurry of white, her hands covering her mouth as her eyes widened.

“My god, Marissa,” she whispered, turning to the clerk. “Did I ever give you the penthouse suite reservation last week?”

“Why, it was booked out just three days ago,” responded the clerk, her face confused. “You never told me—”

“Did you double-book our room?” shouted Lucio, throwing his hands down to his sides. “I am appalled, no, astonished at the sheer incompetence here. Do you have any idea how far we traveled? Do you have any idea who I am?”

“Of course, sir, of course we do,” started the manager, leaving the papers on the ground and rushing forwards to placate him. “Our greatest apologies, I’m sure another room—”

“I am Ambrose Ficher, son of Alex Ficher! Do I need to rattle off the movies he directed that topped the box office this year? Is this hotel such a demonstration of human inadequacy that I should be compelled to make a documentary about it? Perhaps that will be my entry to the contest this year! I’d probably have to classify it as a comedy after this combination of errors. We’ll take no second-rate room— we reserved the penthouse, and we shall get the penthouse. My father was already charged— unless you somehow botched that too? Do I need to check?”

“Of course not, sir!” she stammered, now at the center of attention of every guest in the lobby. “We’ll have it covered. If you paid, of course it is reserved to you. Melissa, contact our other guests and inform them of the situation as well as complimentary beverages for the weekend. Now, sir, if you’ll follow me—”

“We can find the way on our own,” Lucio snapped, swiping the keys that she handed him. “Our baggage, please! Careful, careful, old man. Watch that camera! Top hotel in Brazil, my ass. This place is a laughingstock.” We stalked to the elevator, leaving the clerk open-mouthed, and followed by our procession of bags. Lucio jammed his finger into the button for the top floor, then screeched through the sliding doors at the cringing manager before they closed.

“Two weeks ago we called! That was ample time. I’ll be back down in an hour, and the guides and permits we requested had better be ready! I’ll be leaving for my first excursion at first light tomorrow, and if there is any delay, my father will be hearing about it. Maybe this year, he’ll choose your competitor for the film convention!”

Then the doors slammed shut, we began to rise, and our entire group released a collective sigh.

“Now that,” I said to Lucio, his eyes closed as he leaned against the polished wall. “Was a acting performance worth recording.”

“Let’s hope,” said Darian. “Fingers crossed that she doesn’t start poring through her records.”

“She will, but she thinks we booked the room for three weeks,” said Lucio. “The last thing she wants to do is piss off a high-paying customer more, especially when she thinks we’ll be sticking around. And since her memory agrees with our story, she’ll make some phone calls, making sure that she’s absolutely mistaken before she makes a move. Then when she gets suspicious enough to confront us, we’ll be long gone. But all of our luggage will still be in the room, and she’ll think we’re coming back, so she’ll wait with the bill— but really, she’ll never see us again. We’ll be long gone.”

Chapter 43

“It’s as if you took our subway and made it fit for a movie star. You’re welcome for a room fit for royalty,” said Lucio with a sweeping bow as we entered the suite.

“I don’t know about that,” said Lola, scuffing her foot on the carpet. “But it’ll pass.”

I struggled to keep my mouth shut as I stared around the expanse, my eyes darting between each of the rooms’ features. There was enough food that we could have barricaded ourselves in the room for days— baskets of individually wrapped snacks far superior than anything I had ever seen in a vending machine, complete with strawberry-dipped chocolates and warm cookies on the pillows. The mattresses were even softer than the cookies, bordering upon uncomfortable after my experience with stiff sleeping arrangements. But the windows were the room’s main attraction— spanning an entire side in an unbroken sheet of glass, they showcased the spires of the city, the sparkling lights of the restaurants far below, and the edge of the forest in the distance.

Flowers decorated the room, dozens of types in a variety of colors that draped over the wall, and Arial cupped one in her hand, sniffing it as she pulled it out for us to see.

“Oh, it’s Vibrant decorated,” she said, her finger tracing the stem to the wall. “The plants aren’t just on the walls; they’re rooted in them. And look in the corner— see those thicker branches? Fruit will grow on those in the morning for breakfast, as fresh as you can get!”

“That’s annoying,” said Lola. “If the Vibrants are coming in at dawn to grow you breakfast.”

“Oh no, they thought of that!” said Arial, her face brightening at the opportunity to lecture Lola. “You see, there’s passageways behind the walls to give them access to the root. You’ll never see them! Just you watch, there will be a show as the day moves on.”

“So they’re just there without us seeing them? Creepy,” said Lola, and Lucio raised a pointed eyebrow at her.

“Yeah, creepy,” he said, turning to face the Amazon. “Imagine that, someone you don’t know is there. Now, for scene two, we’ll need to choose a guide from the selection our host will be most graciously preparing for us.”

“Lola, do you have any recommendations on that? You have made this journey before, haven’t you?” I asked. “Now that we’re here, you owe us more information. We’re about to spearhead into a jungle for you searching for the unknown, and if you keep us in the dark, it’ll only make us a danger to ourselves.”

“Don’t pretend that you’re making this journey for me,” she retorted then sighed. “But you’re right. First of all, it’s good that we have a proper guide— otherwise, we’d have to find someone on the black market or the streets, and those are almost always trouble. There’s plenty of niches to hide a body in the Amazon after you’ve fleeced them, and shady guides know all the best locations. Anyways, no guide in their right mind will take us where we want to go, so it’s best we stick to our cover up until it is too late to turn around. We’ll want someone experienced, but not so experienced that they smell trouble.”

“And why, exactly, would they want to bail?” asked Darian. “What’s so dangerous?”

“We’re going deep, deeper than any right we have to be,” continued Lola. “Both in forest and superstition. We’re seeking a city older than history can remember, one built by my ancestors.”

“If it’s older than history can remember, then how do you know who built it?” asked Lucio, while Darian rolled his eyes.

“Because there are those with memories older than history,” Lola responded. “But this city is what Lacit seeks, and he cannot be allowed to find it. He would pervert it, would use its power for the first time for the unnatural. That’s why he wanted me, because I’m the key to it.”

“To finding it, because you’ve been there before?” I asked.

“Partially, yes. And partially because even with surprise, it would be incredibly difficult to attack,” she said. “I was born there, and I’ve made the journey. But more importantly, he wanted me as a ransom.”

“A ransom?” asked Darian. “You’re saying that they would pay to get you back?”

“Dearly,” she answered, then continued, flustered. “That’s, well, that’s one detail I left out. I’m a tad bit famous there. You see, my grandmother is their queen.”

“Which makes you—” started Darian, but Lola completed the sentence for him.

“Their long lost princess,” she said, the words coming out in a rush.

Lucio’s jaw dropped while Darian tilted his head, and Slugger stood completely still. We were silent, shocked as pieces of her story clicked into place. But beyond staring, none of us had a proper response as she started to blush, though she held her nose in the air.

“Look!” said Arial, breaking the silence and prying our attention away from Lola. “The Vibrant show!”

Around us, just as the city clock tolled, thousands of flower buds formed on the walls, elongating from writhing stems. They burst open in a dazzling array of color, each species with its own flair, creating an effect that made it feel like we had already entered the forest. Fragrances exploded forwards as the flowers continued to spread, then the petals detached themselves, spinning down towards the ground to cover the carpet in a fine layer of life.

“Enjoy the view,” said Darian. “Because none of us will ever be able to afford this again. Except maybe Arial and the princess here.”

Chapter 44

“You’re actually royalty?” asked Lucio, then he cackled, the pitch of his voice making her flinch. “To think you’ve been spending the last few months basically living in a sewer!”

“Aye,” said Slugger. “Except her living arrangement didn’t decrease the real estate value.”

“I hear the rat homeowner’s association has been leaving letters in your mailbox to clean up, Lucio,” added Darian. “Though they appreciate the crumbs.”

“Alright, alright, you don’t always have to pile on,” said Lucio. “But a princess, that makes you a celebrity. Not just any celebrity, but now an actress! It’s all coming together now for my movie!”

“So you would only want to cast me if I’m famous, huh?” she asked.

“Well, you just wouldn’t look that great on camera,” Lucio started, then froze as her face lit with fury, and he immediately backpedaled. “Not like that! No, you’ve got a great… face! It’s just that you’re transparent. It’s hard to capture you!”

“Are you saying her beauty could not be contained in a simple camera shot?” Darian asked, his voice dry, with a wink at Lola.

“Well, no, the camera is a top-of-the-line model. It could capture that,” sputtered Lucio before Slugger’s hand came down on his shoulder and he pulled him aside.

“You’re diggin’ yourself deeper, lad,” he said. “When someone gives you a soft pitch like Darian just did, you swing. Back away while you still can.”

“Right,” said Lucio, avoiding Lola’s eyes. “Anyways, the memory I planted downstairs means that our selection of guides should be ready in an hour. Be ready and back in character by then— remember, we can’t give the hotel any reason to be suspicious until we’re gone. They’re our ticket to a guide and the permits. All we have to do is have them fooled until tomorrow morning.”

“And while before we jump into that one,” said Slugger from the other side of the room where he had been inching during Lucio’s update, “I claim the first hot shower that isn’t in a subway janitor closet.” He slid the door behind him as the group’s attention turned to the second bathroom on the other side of the room. For an instant, everyone was still, and Darian and Lola locked eyes. But then Lola flashed out of existence, and before Darian could reach the door, it shut from the inside.

“Don’t take too long in there!” he shouted through the door. “Princess.”

In response, a shampoo bottle poked through the still shut door, spraying him with floral scented liquid before he could move out of the way. He cursed, staring down at the goop on the front of his shirt as the shower turned on inside the bathroom.

“Oh, it’s fine when she does it,” he muttered, using a paper filter from the coffee stand to try and clean himself. “But if I were to try and jump through the wall, it’d be bloody murder.”

“Can you do that?” I asked, looking at him. “Replicate her power, that is?”

“I could shimmer, but I doubt I could jump through,” he answered, letting his hand start to turn transparent. “And I’m not sure I’d want to try.”

He and Lucio scavenged the hot cookies off the pillows while investigating the rest of the room, and I joined Arial at the window. Her head was tilted slightly upwards, and she gazed just above the treeline, her expression lost as it reflected blue sky.

“My father is going to like you even less when he finds out about this.” She sighed, tapping the glass. “And he’ll probably lock me in my room with a tutor. I’ll be lucky if I ever see daylight again except through the bars in my bedroom window.”

“Since Roland is your father’s friend, I think he’ll approve if you take down Lacit. Besides, your father loves rare powers, so I think I’ll grow on him eventually. And who can resist my charming personality and pure lineage?”

“I forgot, tell me again about your family’s business empire. I’m swooning,” she said, the sides of her lips turning upwards. “I’ve always suspected mother married for money, so she’ll approve. No marriage she can't fix.”

“Let’s just say there might be two people descended from royalty here. If I look back far enough, I’m bound to find something!” I shot back, and her smile froze, her face turning away back towards the sky as she bit her lip.

“Hey,” I said, the air between us now cold. “What’s going on? I didn’t mean to upset you.”

“Don’t worry about it; it’s not you,” she answered, though her voice had turned hard.

“Look, I already told you I don’t like her, so if you’re jealous—”

“I said it’s not about you,” she repeated. “And I don’t think you like her, so stop suggesting that. Let it go, SC.”

“Sure,” I said, perplexed, and we stood next to each other in silence. After a few minutes, the arms she folded over her chest dropped to her waist, and the glistening around her eyes faded. I stepped closer, my mouth working as it mulled over words to say, though none made it out of my throat. Instead, I reached down, slowly letting my hand brush against hers.

After a moment of stillness, hers reacted, the very tips of our fingers intertwining. Then the bathroom door behind us opened and Lola stepped out, squeezing the excess water from her hair. “All yours, Darian!” she said. “I used all the shampoo since you already have some.”

At my side, I squeezed Arial’s hand, whispering her.

“Right now, there’s something I have to take care of. But if I did something, I’m sorry about it. I didn’t mean to make you angry.”

“You didn’t,” she whispered back. “It’s fine, SC, I promise.”

Then our hands broke contact, and her soft eyes hardened as I walked towards Lola, pulling her into one of the side bedrooms with me. I made it a point to leave the door open, then spoke to Lola, my voice low enough that the others couldn’t here.

“Lola, I think we’re on the same side here. But I need to know before we enter the jungle. And I need to know if there are any more secrets you have. We’re risking our lives here— and I accept the risk of my own life, but I can’t lead my friends to their deaths when I could have done something to stop it.”

“We’re on the same team, SC,” she said. “My priority is to return home. When that happens, we can warn them about Lacit, then my people can defend themselves and we both win. You keep Lacit from becoming more powerful, and I protect my people and their secrets.”

“And your people, are they going to hurt us once we meet them? To keep their secrets?”

“They would never hurt those who return me to them,” she said. “It’s been years since I’ve been home, but I remember their culture. They do not believe in violence or intervention unless absolutely necessary.”

“Good. I’m trusting you here, Lola. One more question then, before we’re officially started.”

“Go ahead,” she answered.

“This weapon, or whatever Lacit is after— do you know what it is?”

She drew a deep breath, avoiding my stare, and spoke slowly.

“SC, my people have several secrets that would be dangerous in the hands of others. I can’t know for certain which one Lacit is after. On top of that, there are dozens of myths about the powers of my people that are only loosely based in reality, and he could be chasing those. But I can tell you this— if he seeks what I believe, there are few who could stop him should he find it. Perhaps none. We guard that secret like one keeps a beast locked in a cage, lest it destroy the world itself.”

“What is it, then? What is he looking for?”

“SC, I said that my people do not believe in violence unless necessary. This is a secret that, should you possess knowledge of it, I cannot promise the safety of you or your friends. There are some things that are best not to know. And I fear that if there is ever a time you have to find out, it will already be too late.”

Chapter 45

The desk summoned us by telephone to the lobby, where our selection of guides awaited at a small cluster of couches. They bowed, and the manager bobbed nearby, smiling at Lucio as he kept his expression cold and haughty, glaring at the guides as if they insulted him.

“This is it?” he said to her, and she bent under the strain of holding the smile on her face.

“I promise you, sir, that these are the very best,” she said. “If I may introduce them—”

“We can handle introductions ourselves,” he said, cutting her off. “Your services are no longer required.”

“Of course, of course,” she said, backing away to retreat to behind the hotel desk, where she pretended to shuffle papers while watching us out of the corner of her eye. She was frowning now and picked up the phone, watching us as she started to dial a number. Nearby, a bachelorette party preoccupied the other clerks as they waited on another set of couches for the next tour bus of the city.

“Mikas, at your service,” said the first guide, a skinny man with thin lips, stepping forwards and extending a bony hand to Lucio. “My degrees speak for themselves in my expertise of tropical botany and wildlife. Second of my class, and a regional authority on the fauna. And my power—”

“My apologies,” said a second guide, cutting off Mikas and snatching Lucio’s hand before they could shake. “But I am in a hurry. I heard that the best guide in the city was required for a film project and I extend my services at the expense of meeting with another client. Here, please take my card.” He handed two glossy slips of paper to Lucio and Arial, and glanced at the door through a pair of thin rectangular glasses. His smile was fleeting, and he wore a small travel backpack over a tight-fitting shirt that outlined his pectoral and abdominal muscles. He was bald except for a thin beard carefully shaved to accent his jawline.

“And why should we hire you, if you’re so eager to cast off another client?” asked Lucio, turning the card over in his hands.

“That client owes me money, and is likely grateful for my tardiness in hopes of striking a negotiation. But you require my services because I am a Survivalist— master, I sense danger long before it strikes. I can smell death as soon as it enters a room. Have you heard the stories of animals that flee minutes before an earthquake? That is my power, but sharper. With me, you need not fear stumbling upon a nest of vipers. At a fork in the road, I can always choose that which leads to safety. With my assistance, you can walk on the path of pure disaster but never fear a scratch, because we shall dance just out of its reach.”

“Interesting,” said Lucio, drawing out the syllables. “And when are you available?”

“I fear, sir, that I must be going now or I shall lose my other client. But call the number on the card, as I am ready to begin at once! I apologize,” he said and brushed between Lucio and Arial, quickly walking towards the door before we could stop him. With one revolution of glass, he was gone, disappearing on the street, while Mikas spoke back up in his reedy voice.

“Quite rude, quite rude. Certainly unprofessional. Can you imagine spending an entire excursion with the likes of him? But fear not, I can provide after he has deserted you! Along with my degrees, my power gives me a memory of all! I can describe to you any plant or animal, their histories, their subtleties. All known paths through the forests I have memorized, and any of the local dialects I am fluent in. And what I shall forget least of all is your instructions and wishes!”

When he shook Lucio’s hand, he clasped his other hand over it, a university class ring shining on his finger and a silver watch on his wrist.

“We shall consider your offer,” answered Lucio. “After we hear from the third option.”

“Of course, of course,” Mikas said, backing away with another small bow as the third man stepped forwards. “I respect the man who can make an informed decision.”

“Lyle,” he said, his voice so soft we could barely hear him. “Of all the guides, I assure you I alone am the best. Who else would the governor commission to escort his very son along the river? No one else, I assure you. Don’t let this one fool you with his book knowledge— the forest does not care for information stored between pages that were once its own trees. I can provide far better for you, I can guarantee your safety— you see, I alone among the guides am a Fielder. From the moment you leave the city, you will be protected by a force field bubble, where nothing can enter or leave. You shall be no more in danger than at a zoo or aquarium, and for my lower fees—”

He continued talking as Mikas’ face grew more and more irritated with each passing second, but I was staring over their shoulders, my attention back on the hotel manager. Just a moment before, another small group had entered, and she was flustered as she spoke to them, trying to placate them as their voices rose. And from where we sat, I could hear just snippets of their conversation.

“—sorry, but there was a last minute rearrangement,” she was saying. “We had to bump the inhabitants of the penthouse to another suite, which was originally your room— since you were late—”

“Our flights were delayed,” the man in front of her snarled. “And we called ahead. Who exactly was so important?”

“I’m afraid I can’t divulge information about our other guests,” she responded. “We will still find you a room. It just is not available yet. If you care to take a seat while you wait, the refreshments are on us, and we will ensure you have several complimentary meals from the restaurant during your stay.”

She gestured in our direction, where a second cluster of couches were open nearby. The man turned, gripping his luggage with an angry hand, the others in his group starting to follow. But as he took his first step, his eyes locked onto mine, and he froze as my breath caught in my chest. I recognized him.

And at the same instant, Lacit’s flamethrower officer recognized me.

Chapter 46

“One can’t claim authentic immersion if trapped within a bubble. You may as well tour the Amazon on a television screen!” sneered Mikas, jabbing a finger at Lyle. “You are robbing them of the experience!”

“Guys—” I started but was immediately cut off by Lyle as he screeched back at Mikas, flecks of spit flying from his mouth.

“Well, you can go back to reading books when you’re in the hospital sucking viper venom out of your legs! Damn academics with your—”

“We don’t have time for arguing, and frankly, neither of you fit the bill!” I shouted over them. “If we had time for amateurs, we would have tried the streets! Now we’re out!”

“But, SC—” said Lucio then yelped when I took him by the back of the collar and dragged him backwards.

“Now,” I growled, throwing a look at Lacit’s men to see two dropping back to cover the back exit, while two more flared out wide to cover our left and right, and two more started up the middle. “Lola, you first. Don’t hesitate to disappear if you need to. I’m sure they’d still love to get their hands on you. Back exit, let’s go!”

Lucio gulped as he spotted the advancing men, and though he had never seen them, he knew what trouble looked like in all shapes and sizes.

“Lucio, distraction,” I hissed. “Arial, if things get dicey, you get out of here quick, meet up with Lola, then come back for us later if they catch us. Darian, what’s in your power deck right now?”

“Firewhips, though not for much longer; they’re pretty weak,” he said as we backpedaled. “I can still fly but carrying anyone is dodgy. Weak Transience. Telekinesis soon, I’d assume, if Lacit is coming.”

“Not good enough, and pray that he’s far behind,” I answered, then pointed at Lyle. “You, Lyle. I changed my mind. Want the job? Show me your best force field and it’s yours!”

“Of course!” he cried, throwing up his hands, and a purple balloon shimmered around us.

“Splendid! We’ll be reaching out. That’s enough.” Then I turned to Darian. “That good enough?”

“Got it,” he said. “Perfect sample. He’s pretty average, though.”

“It’ll have to do. Cover the back door as soon as we get through it. Slugger, give us some heavy obstacles! Really tick them off. We want them angry so they make mistakes.”

“Already on it, boss,” he answered, pulling chairs from around us to block the immediate path, the wood of their supports creaking as they gained hundreds of pounds. To the normal eye, they looked like casual furniture, but in reality, they held the weight of massive boulders.

“Steady,” I said as we continued to back away, keeping my eyes on the approaching men to make sure they were not gaining ground. “Steady. Keep calm. Darian, get ready with that shield. Perfect. Now get ready— and bolt!”

The two men in the middle broke into a run towards us just before I gave the command, and the hotel lobby turned into a flurry of motion.

“Danny, what the hell!” shouted one of the bridesmaids that was waiting for the bus, running over towards one of the men trying to flank us. “You said that you would call! And then you dated my sister. Do you have any idea how, how cruel that is?”

She broke down crying as Lucio’s face scrunched together with concentration and three more bridesmaids darted towards the man trying to flank us on the right, tears already smearing their mascara as they shouted at him. At the exit, the other two men stayed standing guard, not daring to allow us to escape that direction. Which left only the two in front of us, who had just reached the chairs left behind by Slugger.

One aimed a kick at them as they rushed forwards, howling with pain as his shin collided with furniture with enough mass to be nailed to the floor. He hopped on one leg, cursing a string of profanities more colorful than the fireball that erupted from his palm to streak towards us. I flinched, the memories of my subway escape from the same fireballs rushing back to me. But then the flames flowered outwards as they collided with an invisible object, purple sparks erupting just a few feet in front of us as Darian raised a forcefield, driving the second of the men backwards. Then another fireball defected off the forcefield, the wall barely holding, ricocheting into the attached restaurant to set a table alight.

Heat and screams washed over us as the lobby descended into a deeper state of pandemonium, the red-faced manager diving under the counter for cover while the clerks slid into hidden passageways that led to the kitchens, leaving the guests scurrying like ants in a disrupted mound. Flashes of powers danced around us, adding to the commotion as we wove through the panicked crowd towards our escape. To our right, an entire corner of the lobby descended into darkness, the light drained away like shower water. On our left, the decorative fountain reared upwards and froze in a protective bubble, encapsulating two children that had strayed from their family. And at the exit, the two guards fought for control, trying to scare back the mob, one cracking the wall with a punch and the other directing concussive blasts at their feet.

But this was the best hotel in the city. And only those with powers could afford such luxury.

Windows shattered as a single Hurricaner plowed through them with ease, directing a concentrated torrent of rain and wind in a blast that sent them tumbling into the street and blew the rotating door like a pinwheel. As the crowd stampeded over them, we reached the back of the lobby, Darian sealing the back door with a force field as we rushed through, and we darted through a deserted corridor towards the service exit.

“We need to get as far away from here as possible,” I panted, counting the heads to make sure we had everyone. “Lacit can only be so far behind, and he’s way more dangerous than them. We caught them by surprise, but next time, they’ll be ready. And far harder to escape.”

“But our guide! And our luggage!” exclaimed Lucio, then his face paled. “Oh god, my camera!”

“Our cover’s already blown,” said Darian. “No point in carrying them around now.”

“No, he has a point,” I said. “We might need the disguise again. Besides, we need to get anything they can use to identify us out of that room. Arial and Darian, scale the outside back up to the penthouse. Carry Lola with you— Lola, go through the wall and get everything that matters out. Hurry, they’ll be searching soon! And Slugger, guard the corner by the main street— if anyone comes this way, sprint back to warn us and leave plenty of obstacles!”

As soon as we hit daylight, they took off, launching themselves towards the roof. Sirens sounded from the front of the building, but the back was deserted except for cigarette butts and beer bottles.

And our eyes were on the sky when a bolt of lightning erupted out of the service exit, striking the concrete in front of us with an explosion that threw us off our feet.

Chapter 47

The world above me swam in waves of blue light, light that I realized was the sky from where I lay on my back, just as I realized that blood caused the salty taste in my mouth. I blinked, my ears ringing, aware of another source of blue in the world above me. A rippling light coupled with the smell of ozone, originating from a spark dancing between the fingers of a man whose face was warped with triumph.

“Doesn’t feel so good, does it?” he said, reaching down to yank me up by the collar. I choked as he pulled me into the air then dropped me on my feet, swaying as the ground buckled. One hand still gripped around the back of my neck, while the other held the dancing spark so close to my Adam’s apple that it tickled the skin. “What’s wrong, boy?” he said. “Don’t you recognize me? I thought we were old friends.”

I swallowed, yelping as the movement brushed my throat against the spark. My thoughts churned as his face came into focus, the features pulling at my brainwaves until they started tumbling over each other in a jumble of memories. The broken nose, the thin blue irises flecked with white, his expression as my dark orb exploded right in front of him in the subway tunnel as we battled Siri. He had been the one who had led her forces against ours, the Electrospark captain, and must have now transferred his loyalties to Lacit.

“That’s right,” he said, his voice so low I could barely hear it among the ringing. “You remember now, don’t you? Knocked us around real good a few weeks ago; still have a twinge in my right knee. Put some of my best drinking buddies in jail. Brought me some new scars. And I always repay my scars, boy.”

“Only if I give you the chance,” I retorted, my muscles tensing as I gathered my strength, bracing myself as the world tilted again from the exertion. But just as I reached out to create a force point that would slam a nearby garbage bin into his back, he spoke, his voice mocking.

“No, no, no, I wouldn’t do that. It wouldn’t be wise.” He sidestepped, turning me to see a pale Lucio held in the same position as me. But instead of a spark held to his throat, there was a glistening edge, accented by a single drop of red blood that ran down its diamond surface. Forming the blade were four fingers, each sharper than a razor, and threatening to tear Lucio to shreds.

“Hello, SC,” Blake practically sang, his eyes sparkling as bright as the rest of his exterior. “It’s a bit too far from home for two Bottoms to have strayed. Funny, you’re supposed to be cleaning our messes, not creating them. I heard your mother was a maid— insufficiencies must run in your genetics. Trash breeds trash, and you’re no different.”

Anger rushed through me, but then another drop of blood fell from Lucio’s throat, and his body shivered. Blake stared at me, waiting for me to move, for any excuse to sink his fingers into flesh. Instead, I calmed my racing pulse, struggling to think rationally— fighting here would get one of us killed, and that was a best case scenario. There had to be a better way. I’d have to buy us time until the others returned.

“Last time I checked, you two were at each other’s throats,” I said. “What happened, Blake? Did Siri decide you needed a new babysitter?”

“I wouldn’t provoke him if I were you,” said my captor as diamonds rippled across Blake’s skin, casting rainbows over the street. “Wouldn’t want him to slip up, would we? Now move, nice and quiet; you’re going into a car with us like good little children. Don’t you try anything— if a bird so much as chirps funny, you’re both dead before you can blink.”

“And how unfortunate that would be!” Blake said then laughed. A shrill laugh, one different than the one he had had at the facility. Too high-pitched, strained. Forced. “Lacit promised I’d get to kill one of you, but I’d so much rather do two.”

They directed us away from the main street, running parallel along the back of the hotel, our backs arched as they continually applied pressure. I grimaced as I realized that they were moving us away from Slugger, and Blake spoke up after seeing the look on my face.

“Don’t you worry, SC, we’ll come back for Slugger. Saw him taking off just before we acted. Soon you’ll all be back together again. Just like old times.”

“And just like old times, you’re on the wrong side again,” I growled.

“Oh, am I, SC? Do you know what happened to me after your little show in the subway?”

I remained silent, marching forwards. We’d started to track him down but had stopped once we found Lola.

“Police threw him in a mental ward. A sheer waste of good talent,” said the Electrospark. “A damn disappointment.”

“He’s right! They left me to rot, declared I was insane. But Sparky here remembered our showdown, and he came to find me. Introduced me to Lacit while I was in my cell. Too bad I couldn’t shake his hand. You know why, SC?” He laughed again but never waited for me to answer, shuddering as he spoke. “Because you can’t shake hands in a straitjacket made of steel! And the medication had me drooling; that combined with the shrinks, pushing and pulling at my thoughts. Ripping and tearing them out, supplementing their own ones in. They had to get rid of the bad ones, you see? But Lacit, Lacit pulled me out of there before it was too late!”

He gritted his teeth, his smile slightly lopsided as he looked at me, his pupils dancing.

“Good thing, too— he found me while I was still sane!”

Chapter 48

“Now we’re going to walk nice and quietly to the car,” said Blake. “No false moves, no tricks. Nothing funny, or Lucio is relieved of his spine. Understood?”

I bit my tongue, surveying the scene in front of me. We’d arrived at the front of the hotel, where flashing cop cars intermingled with a crowd of onlookers as the last civilians poured from the entrance. Smoke now trickled out through the door, and in the distance, I could hear the wailing of a fire truck approaching. On the ground were the two henchmen that had barred the door, each with a police officer’s knee in their back and handcuffs over their wrists. Another officer restrained a handful of lobby escapees that shouted at the men, their faces red as they formed rude gestures, and just barely keeping their powers under control.

The scene was a near riot, with the officers severely outnumbered. If Blake carried through with his threat, not only would he escape, but in the confusion, others would likely be hurt if I fought back. Innocent people, people far more innocent than Larissa.

It’d be best to wait until we reached the car, then find an opportunity to act.

“Understood,” I responded. “Is your master Lacit waiting there to give you a treat after this?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.” He sneered, flinching at the word master. “Lacit’s got his own business right now, so I get to watch over you until he’s back. The two of you will make a nice surprise present. And what’s a present without ribbons? Maybe I’ll slice some off while we wait.”

“Alright, mouths shut. That includes you, glitter boy,” said my captor, Sparky. “You can start talking tough when the mission is over. Now both of you keep walking and skirt the crowd. That’s right, even pace. Blake, take your hand off his throat, keep it against his back, nice and hidden. We’re just one big happy family getting back into their car after a stroll. Both of you are getting in the back seats, and Blake will sit between you. You’ll hold hands with him, and by that, I mean you’ll be holding knives. The car is the black four-door. We’re going to walk directly towards it. No meandering.”

The afternoon sun reflected off the car windows and into our eyes as we passed halfway through the crowd. The majority of backs were towards us, the focus on the center. Ahead, the car was fifty meters away and closing, with only streetlights and empty pavement between us and the doors.

In my mind, an image flashed like a memory, and I recognized Lucio’s touch as he materialized before me.

“SC, listen,” he said, and I recognized the background of the rehabilitation facility behind him. “If we get into that car, we’re toast! You need to run off— they won’t kill me; they’ll need to use me as bait to get you back.”

Pushing the memory away, I shook my head, but it returned, insistent.

“I can’t touch his mind, SC. Whatever they did to him, it’s like scrambled eggs in there. My power is useless, it’s like trying to make music out of radio static. You hear me? I can’t add any memories to Blake, but I can still do it to Sparky. That’ll buy you time.”

I shook my head again, just enough for Lucio to notice. There had to be another option rather than letting him sacrifice himself for me. I just had to find it.

“What do we do then!” he shouted in my memory, tearing out his hair by the roots and holding tufts of it in his hands. “Going with them is not an option. We have to get away. Unless, unless you already have a plan? Tell me you already have a plan?”

Focusing both upon Lucio’s memories and the real world nearly caused me to trip, especially with my throbbing head. But I nodded, the lie much easier without meeting his eyes and without words.

“Oh, good,” my memory said, fading as the voice turned to relief. “Really had me scared there. Here I was thinking we would just surrender! I’m ready to act; just give the signal. Well, any signal!”

I nearly ran into the street pole ahead as I listened, and dodged left, while Lucio split right. And for a second, I thought I had tripped again as I stumbled forwards, my face careening towards the ground. But as I impacted concrete for the second time that day, gasping as Lucio skidded down next to me, I realized we had been shoved off our feet. Instinct took over as I rolled, coming face up just in time to see a thin metal chain whipping out of thin air to cross over Sparky’s chest, tightening a chain that already crossed over Blake’s torso. But at their shoulder and waist height, the links disappeared, sliding through an invisible hole in space like a grommet.

“Get it off me,” shouted Blake, thrashing as his body turned full diamond, his skin sparking where it struck steel. But the chain held, and whenever he pulled forwards, Sparky was yanked backwards, the links sharing an invisible connection.

“Run, you halfwits!” shouted Lola’s voice out of nowhere, as Lucio and I scrambled to our feet. By now, the crowd beside us had turned from the commotion, their expressions confused as they saw two figures fighting suspended chains that appeared attached to nothing.

“No you don’t!” shouted Sparky as I took my first steps, and he raised his hand, pointing his finger at me as blue energy gathered around him. Sparks leapt off his skin as he pushed his power into a single lightning bolt prepared to vaporize me, and he unleashed it in a surge that made the streetlight above shatter. I threw up a black orb, preparing to absorb the energy, and hoping my power would pull in electricity like flames.

But instead, Blake started to scream as the metal chains wrapped around Sparky absorbed the charge, outbursts of electricity glowing along his diamond skin and erupting into corona discharges.

“Stop!” he begged as Sparky released his power, and the electricity faded, the chain white-hot from where it had borne the lightning, and Sparky’s shouts joined his as the heat traveled back towards the chains that held him in place, charring his clothes as the fabric turned to smoke and singeing the skin. But by now, Lucio and I were far out of range and widening the distance with each step. As we passed the car, I cast an orb through the engine block, blowing the hood clean off the exterior as the insides ripped themselves apart. And in seconds, we rounded a corner, where two figures emerged from the darkness and took us from under our armpits.

Lucio shrieked as we streaked into the air, Arial smacking him as he tried to struggle out of her grasp, then turned limp as the ground rapidly faded away. Close behind them, Darian carried me, his flight pattern far more subject to sways than Arial, feeling like an airplane flying through heavy turbulence.

“Sorry, SC!” he shouted over the wind. “I really shouldn’t be carrying you, but we needed to get you out of there, stat! Besides, Arial said that if I mess up, you have a better chance of being able to fly than Lucio!”

Chapter 49

We alighted on a low rooftop of a family grocery store several blocks away, next to where Slugger guarded our belongings by a rusted air-conditioning unit that whined with displeasure at the heat.

“Thank God!” Lucio cried as his feet touched down, running forwards to grab the camera from the top of the mound, flipping open the case to check the lens. He sighed with relief as he inspected it, and behind him, Arial shook her head.

“You’re welcome,” Arial said and rolled her eyes. “Seriously, have you ever been taught manners by anyone? We’re going to need to put you through etiquette school.”

“Thank you, Arial,” I said, then turned to Darian, my balance still slightly off from the flight. “And you too, Darian. Thought we were done for back there.”

“I thought you had a plan?” Lucio asked, and I shrugged.

“I hoped for the best!” I said then pointed at Darian and Arial. “So we’re lucky we have the best.”

We waited for Lola as she made her way through the other side. Arial smoothed out her shirt, grimacing at where Lucio had stretched out the fabric, and rubbed the dirt off the sides of her white sneakers. She frowned when the rubber failed to brighten past a dull brown, eventually giving up to rummage in her bag, pulling out several energy bars and some bottled water.

“Not much of a dinner, but it’ll have to do for now,” she said, spreading them out over the luggage and swatting Lucio’s hand away when he tried to take two. “But what I wouldn’t give for some air-conditioning. I'm sweating through my shirt.”

Lola popped out of space a few minutes later, suspiciously close to Lucio, who nearly choked on his energy bar.

“You just watch,” he said, pointing a shaking finger at her. “If you’re trying to pull pranks, you’re messing with the wrong person. I'm an expert.”

“Me? A prank? Never,” she said, smiling sweetly while taking a swig of water from our rapidly diminishing supply. “If I desired competition, I would seek an individual of matching intelligence. Besides, I advise that you become used to my power— you’re only going to see more of it where we’re going. Or maybe you won’t see it,” she continued, dropping her voice to a whisper and leaning inward. “But it’ll be there. All around you.”

“Just like there could be Invisibles or mole people,” countered Arial, rolling her eyes. “Who knows, maybe there’s even another other side!”

“There isn’t,” Lola said, raising her hand in the air with the air of someone withholding information. “There’s just the one.”

“And how would you possibly know that?” challenged Aral, gathering her hair up from her shoulders and tying it in a ponytail to try to combat the heat.

“The mathematical duality; theoretically, more than one would be highly unstable. The odds would be highly against it.”

“So there could be,” Arial said, picking at her.

“Theoretically,” Lola started, her tone turning to that of a lecturer. “But the odds are astronomically infinitesimal, so small—”

“Enough,” I said, breaking into the conversation. “We’re not here to argue; we’re here to stop Lacit. And now we know he’s here in force— not only with his own men, but the remains of Siri’s. It means they’re serious, and it means we’ll be heavily outnumbered. Not only that, but we’re now at a disadvantage because they know we’re here, we have nowhere to stay, and we have no guide.”

“But on the bright side, Blake got the shock therapy he deserves,” said Lucio. “How exactly did that work anyways?”

“Darian found the chain, then I took it to the other side and waited near the light post you passed,” said Lola. “I gave it a loop around the post on the other side, then after I pushed you both down, I wrapped it around them both. Sort of like sewing our worlds together and trapping them between.”

“Wouldn’t that give them access to the other side?” asked Darian. “I can't imagine that would be good. It would be twice as difficult to find them.”

“Things stuck between the worlds tend not to last long, so that chain would have rusted through in a few minutes after I left,” said Lola. “They’re definitely free by now, and the hole resealed.”

“Good. Last thing we need is Blake having the ability to pop around like you can,” I said. “Something tells me he wouldn’t be as responsible with the power. Now the next question remains— how are we going to find a guide now? Lola, you said that the black market had options?”

“Bad ones. Ones that are just as likely to get us killed than help us through.”

“Well, you’re lucky, because I have just the solution!” said Lucio, rummaging through his pockets, then smiling as he raised a card in the air. “The first guide left this, so all we have to do is call him. Or better yet, we pay him a visit— there’s a address on here. He never saw what happened at the hotel, so he won’t have a reason to be suspicious.”

“Sounds like a lead,” I said, taking the card and examining it.

Leonidas Sines

1493 Ponce Circle

Specialty Services

“We’ll need to split up. Half of us to check for the guide, the other half to guard our stuff. But first, let’s wait for things to cool off in the streets.”

We rested, watching the sun start to descend in the sky. From her bag, Arial rummaged around for a packet of powder, then ripped it open.

“What’s that?” Lola asked as Arial emptied it into lukewarm water.

“Instant coffee,” Arial responded. “In other words, a tragedy to support a caffeine addiction.”

“Oh, you’ll have to try some of the varieties here!” said Lola. “Some of the best strains, though the wild ones are supposed to be the best in the world. Better than anything you can find on a shelf.”

“I’m sure they are,” Arial said, grimacing as she took a sip. “Everything around here just seems perfect.”

Chapter 50

The door was ancient— solid wood that thudded as I knocked on it, so hard that it resisted any sound at all. From its center, a massive knot peered out at us, holding us in disdain as we waited on the doorstep that was purposefully left without a welcome mat. Stretching around the sides of the house was paneling that appeared to be from wood of the same tree, including the window shutters and the roofing tiles.

I knocked again, peering over my back towards the street— few occupied it this far from the city center, but there were those who could be watching. Inside, the sound echoed, but there was no response.

“Lola,” I said, positioning myself and Lucio to give her cover from the street. “Want to check the inside? See if anyone is home?”

“Can’t,” she said, extending her own hand to knock against the wood. “Solid both here and the other side. Whoever built this knew what they were doing.”

“So whoever’s inside knows about the other side?” I asked.

“Correlation, not causation. I said whoever built this knows, not who lives in it. They’re probably dead by now. Something like this is not made quickly— it would take many years.”

“I don’t get it,” said Lucio. “Why couldn’t you just pour some concrete over there?”

“I thought you said you didn’t like learning,” Lola huffed. “Think of it like this. The other side and our world are linked together. But it’s not instant— it takes time, and during that time, objects pass between them. They flow into each other— put something on our side long enough, and it forms a shadow there. As it becomes unstable here, that shadow is strengthened. The worlds hate differences between them, and therefore destroy dissimilarities. And if the dissimilarity can’t be destroyed, they repel.”

“Well, that makes no sense,” Lucio complained, his expression blank.

“Remember how the concrete was soft in the tunnel? That’s because it had started to age on our side, and the other side was adopting it. But if that concrete resisted change, if it was kept in prime condition, then the other side would naturally push against it. It would be filled with something like air, or water, or something that pushes back against concrete essence.” She rapped on the door again, drawing our attention to the wood. “This door is old. And the wood here is aged, long enough that there is too much that has flowed to the other side for me to pass through. If there was just a bit, I could dance between worlds and still pass. But instead, it’s solid.”

“And that’s why the person who made this is likely dead,” I said. “Because it’s been here for years.”

“Precisely, SC. Now, if this door were a place of power, one that had existed for quite some time, the other side would repel. For instance, magma would make a lake or fire ice. Or rock would make air.” She rapped the door again to illustrate the point, and we fell silent as we heard something moving inside. Then the door cracked, and two bleary eyes stared at us from the darkness.

“Is it too damn much to ask for an afternoon nap without—” he started, then his face lit up in recognition as he stepped out into the light, revealing himself to be Leonidas, our first guide. “Oh, it’s you! I’d been hoping you’d come by. Glad you survived— felt some real nasty business coming back there.”

“You— you knew we were about to be attacked?” I stammered, remembering his quick exit, and how he had practically thrust his card on Lucio.

“Of course! I’m a Survivalist worth more than a few pennies— I could smell the danger miles off! But that’s what makes this interesting, no? Where there’s danger, there’s usually something at play. Something valuable. And as a man of employment, value is exactly what I seek. But come in, come in, wouldn’t want you on the street! Danger is far off, but that’s no reason not to extend a welcome invitation.”

He thrust the door open, revealing a room lit entirely by artificial light, paneled with the same wood that had covered the outside of the building. We stepped onto hardwood floors cool to the touch after removing our shoes, a merciful sensation after the heat of the day. Around us were rows upon rows of shelves, only half of them full, and littered with carefully organized objects tagged with small slips of paper. There were taxidermied animals, everything from a rodent slightly smaller than a squirrel to a jaguar that snarled at us from the corner, its black fur erect along its back, the eyes unaware of its death. Strange jars of liquid hosted floating objects in another corner, each a dull color and just dark enough to discern shapes that made my skin prickle.

Then there was the center wall, the objects here in the prime position for viewing. There was a book so old it appeared that the pages were ready to disintegrate, but its spine still stood proud against gravity. Gold and silver coins were neatly sandwiched between glasses in another section, some ancient enough that they still bore hammer marks from smithing. And there were other objects, things that I couldn’t recognize— tools from another age, a headdress that looked half feral and half royal, arrowheads chiseled from flint, and the half-charred remains of a wooden humanoid carving.

“Welcome to my collection!” Leonidas exclaimed, throwing his eyes wide, then squinting at our faces. “Only three of you made it, then? Pity about your other friends, but we shall travel light! Most likely for the best.”

“They didn’t die; they’re still coming,” I said, my tone flat. “But the fact that you thought it was dangerous enough for them to die, then said absolutely nothing about it, doesn’t exactly make me eager to use you as our guide.”

“Then we’re both in luck,” he said, his smile so wide that he flashed a gold tooth I had not yet noticed. “Because I have no intention of doing so. You’d have to be absolutely insane to travel where you want to go.” He paused, his stare lingering as he lowered his voice as if to let us in on a secret.

“And that’s why you’ll be taking my brother!”

Chapter 51

“Wait up a second,” spoke up Lola, somehow managing to look down on Leonidas despite their height difference. “Just how did you know where we are trying to go?”

“Because every time your conversation turned towards a guide, the stench of danger became unbearable,” answered Leonidas without missing a beat. “You reek of it, absolutely reek, and there aren’t many places that stink so bad while being so far into the future. You’re going into the jungle, and you’re going deep. Where exactly, I cannot say, but definitely deep. And you’re going to bring me back some trinkets as payment.”

“You mean bring your brother payment,” I corrected. “Since you’ve obviously lured us here for his business.”

“Don’t be so quick to judge,” said Leonidas, holding up his hands in mock innocence. “We’re a team. I’m the businessman, he’s the business. You pay me trinkets, I pay him food.”

“Sounds like a crap deal if you ask me,” said Lucio. “We just got out of an arrangement like that. And the food wasn’t even good.”

“Ah, but I also pay him what he craves— adventure,” said Leonidas with a sparkle in his eye. “You see, he’s the absolute best guide you can possibly find. That doesn’t happen without passion.”

“And if he’s the best guide, why are you offering him a bunch of kids?” Lola countered. “From a return on interest standpoint, the numbers make no sense. I’m sure you could find better options.”

“Ah, but you’re not just a bunch of kids, are you? You’re the son of the great Ficher!” He cast Lucio a wry smile, then continued without giving him a chance to speak. “But don’t you worry, I saw right through that one. You might have the hotel strung up like puppets, but I can smell lies a mile away. Anyways, business has been a bit tight over the last few years. And due to my strict code of business ethics, and my dedication to ensure I retain repeat customers, there is a small detail about my brother that I am compelled to disclose. Tiny, really.”

He held up his thumb and forefinger, letting only a sliver of air exist between the skin.

The three of us looked at each other, then I spoke.

“Go on,” I said, unsure if I wanted to know the answer. “We’re listening.”

“Like I said, a tiny, miniscule, infinitesimal detail. But a detail no less! The jungle is a dangerous place, you see. Accidents do happen, no matter the guide. And there was one of my brother’s customers who did not heed all of his advice. Walked right into a viper nest— boy had more holes in him that a kitchen sponge, his blood more parts venom than cells. Dead before he reached a stretcher.”

“Kid was a fool of the lowest caliber intelligence,” came another voice from the door to the next room. “He deserved what he got. Wouldn’t listen to a word I said, tried to defy the jungle. And the jungle will not be defied.”

The man stepped into the light, the gold coins from the shelving casting medallions of light on his face. He was shirtless, though the mat of hair on his chest provided more coverage than fabric, barely managing to conceal the lean ab muscles residing just under the surface. His eyes were sunken, long silver bags clinging to their undersides, and the irises nearly as dark as the pupils. His hair tumbled down to his shoulders, some pieces cut shorter than others in ragged ends, and streaked light from days in the sun. In one hand, he held a metal lighter, flicking it open and shut with a click, sparking and snuffing the flame so it brushed against his skin. And likely not coincidental, that hand had almost no hair compared to the other.

“Zeke,” chided Leonidas. “Perhaps a tad bit of empathy could be employed here, considering the boys’ age?”

“Mother birds push their hatchlings from the nest at mere weeks old, while this imbecile was a teenage. Plenty old to die. I said don’t step left and he tested me. Stupid choice, stupid consequences. Now you’re not going to make a stupid choice, are ya?” He pointed at us, using his ring finger since his pointer was severed at the knuckle.

“Well, I’m not making any promises there; sometimes those are the most fun, aren’t they?” said Lucio. “But first, who’d you turn into a kid’s meal?”

Zeke stared at Lucio, his face hard, then broke into a rocky laughter that switched on faster than a lightbulb.

“This one, I like this one,” he said, nudging his brother. “He’s not afraid to die. Those are my favorites.”

“But to answer your question,” continued Leonidas. “It was on a natural expedition, intended for education. Zeke was the best, is the best, and was naturally selected for the job. Well, the kid got himself killed, and his daddy wasn’t too happy. Considering his daddy is a senator, Zeke found himself in some hot water. The president tried to hunt him down.”

“Pretty hard to catch me when I can feel the danger coming,” stated Zeke.

“Right. Point is, Zeke’s not so welcome around public places. There’s a small fortune on his head, so he’s best suited in the jungle.”

“Like it there better anyways,” Zeke growled.

“And when he isn’t in the jungle, he stays here, in our safe house. Where we keep all our neat little trinkets! Better collection here than most museums, mind you, and started by my grandmother nearly seventy years ago. Crazy old bat,” he said and knocked on the walls. “Built this place herself and it’s rock solid. Hasn’t failed me yet— in her later years, she claimed it could even keep the ghosts and spirits out! Like I said, she lost her wits pretty young. Too much lead in some of these artifacts if you ask me.”

Chapter 52

“You’re going to need new clothes,” said Leonidas, looking us up and down. “The jungle will tear you to shreds dressed like that.”

We’d fetched the rest of our group and introduced them, catching them up on the guides. Now our bags were open on the ground, and Leonidas had gone through them searching for anything of use, gutting them and throwing their innards into mounds on the floor. After a few minutes, he’d pushed them aside, exasperated. Behind him, Zeke picked at his nails with a knife, only casting the occasional cursory glance upwards..

“Hey now, we made do with what we had,” said Lucio. “Believe it or not, the jungle section of the superstore is smaller than you’d think. Besides, he doesn’t seem to care.”

Lucio pointed at Zeke, and Leonidas sighed.

“That’s because Zeke prefers to traverse the jungle as the animals do, in nature’s clothing, but something tells me you might not hold up so well. He dressed up for you in shorts; you should appreciate it.” He looked at Arial, noting the hue of her skin. “He’s practically leather, where you’ll be needing sun block. Profusely.”

“Considering the state of our financial affairs,” said Slugger. “We’re in not position to buy anything new. You could say unemployment in our group is at an all-time high. The numbers don’t look pretty.”

“Numbers are always pretty,” mumbled Lola to herself.

“So is treasure,” said Leonidas, his eyes dancing over his shelves, resting particularly long on the ones still empty and dusty. “But I am interested in value, not cash. Which is fortunate for you, as we have plenty lying around. I’ll front the amount for supplies and secure your permits, but you’ll need to plan better in the future if you want to survive. The jungle does not forgive easily and bears quite a grudge. The smallest of cuts can become infected and cost you a limb. Spider venom can stop your heart before you realize one has made a nest out of your shoe. A lack of sources of fresh water will make you delirious in hours, and if you’re lost, you might as well write your suicide note. I cannot emphasize it enough: plan well.”

Lucio avoided his eyes, and Zeke played with the flame of his lighter behind them, flicking it with his wrist in such a fashion that droplets of fuel would splatter onto his palm, then catch with the flame. Before the fire had a chance to burn, he’d close his hand, extinguishing it in darkness, before repeating the process again. Leonidas shifted, flinching each time the flame flared up.

“Now, this does take us to payment,” Leonidas continued, looking away and stroking his chin, and letting his gold tooth shine. “Zeke knows my rates, and he’s an honest man. Honest enough. Well, likely more honest than anyone else you’ll find at this hour. So in the jungle, you don’t leave until Zeke says I’m paid.”

“And what if we do?” I asked. “Or what if our mission fails?”

“There seemed to be those who would pay a hefty price to get their hands on you. I’m sure I could work something out with them,” he answered with a knowing smile. “But of course, that’s not the preferable course of action for either of us. You have your mission to accomplish— please, spare me the details. I’ve come to learn that it is more dangerous to hold secrets than hot coals. And I have a financial interest. So do we have a deal, then?”

“What kind of artifact exactly are you looking for?” asked Lola, suspicious. “How can we be guaranteed to find something?”

“Well, that would sound like your problem, wouldn’t it? Surprise me, but nothing I already have. Variety is the spice of life, is it not? If I see another golden coin, I might vomit. Bring me something fresh. And of course, should our transaction go as planned, you would have a new source of cash for future expeditions. I assure you, I can be quite useful.”

“Now hold on right there,” Darian interjected. “What’s the point of us coming along? Why not just send Zeke on his own, if he’s such a great guide?”

“Because Zeke knows the ways of the jungle, and has already searched where he is familiar,” said Leonidas. “But there is another reason as well. Zeke’s power will push you away from danger, but it will not pull him towards value. That’s where you come in. You will each serve as each other’s guides and keep each other on task. Plus, Zeke has a tendency to stray off course— forgive me for the comment, brother, but you’re far more effective when someone else is holding the compass. Now, partners? For this deal and for future ones?”

“I think we’ll take just the one,” I said, and Leonidas smiled, clasping my hand and shaking it. “Coming back isn’t in our itinerary.”

“We’ll see, we’ll see. I smell danger on you yet, and not the type that fades away quickly. No, this is a dull ache. It’ll be years until you can sleep safe at night,” he said then brightened and laughed. “Which means I have made a wonderful investment indeed!”

Chapter 53

We spent that night with Zeke and Leonidas, on a nest of pillows and blankets that they provided from a small closet, dusting off layers of spiderwebs from fabric as they laid them on the floor. Most looked to be hand-knitted or quilted, intricate designs covering their surface— about half were maps, some as far as Moscow, while the others appeared to be portraits of people I couldn’t recognize.

“Are you sure we can use these?” I asked, cradling the fabric. “They’re not some of your collection, are they?”

“Just don’t wet the bed and we’ll get along fine,” said Leonidas. “And no, they were free. Family gifts.”

“If you say so,” I answered, noting Zeke’s scowl as we settled into them and remembering his words when we mentioned we had no place to spend the night

“Always be prepared, always have a plan B,” Zeke instructed, dragging the edge of one of the blankets away from the closet door’s hinge. “The jungle will not have one for you.”

“Look, we’re on about plan ten right now. We’ve tried,” said an irritated Lucio. “You’re just seeing the fallout.”

“The other nine must have been bad plans,” said Zeke. “Who made them?”

“I did, and they would have worked perfectly if some unexpected visitors didn’t show up,” Lucio retorted. “They were good plans.”

“Reality disagrees. Strong plans bend, not break,” intoned Zeke, his voice deep. “But this is good; I now have someone to teach. It will make the trip less dull.”

“Oh, and what makes you so great at it?” asked Lucio.

Zeke held up his hand with four fingers, wiggling the stump. “Over one hundred expeditions, and only one permanent injury. But this is good; skepticism is the first step to a good plan.”

An hour later, I lay awake on the wood floor of their house, surrounded by artifacts glaring down at me from the shelves. Just outside these wooden walls, the city continued to bustle, unaware of the treasure directly beneath the current of normal activities, that just across the street from the convenience store robbed on a near daily basis and a slew of failing food stands, there was more wealth than most would see in their lives. And not just wealth, but mystery.

I shuddered as I met eyes with a carved monkey that stared at me from near ceiling level, his face engraved in a permanent snarl and his fur looking strikingly like human hair. If superstitions and curses were to be believed, just spending an hour here would be enough to derail the rest of my entire life. At least, what remained of it after Leonidas’ comments earlier today.

We awoke to the sound of the door closing, Leonidas returning with several carts of bags, and the sun just starting to peek in from a hairline crack in the wood high above. He placed a bag in front of each of us, then rummaged in another closet, pulling out several worn packs and shaking a layer of dust off of them.

“Clothes are in the bags,” he said, then turned on the stove for breakfast, “while the other supplies should be delivered shortly. Did my best to guess your sizes. After breakfast, I’ll fit you each with a pack— you’ll want it snug, or the journey will be quite painful. The city clerk owes me a favor, and with a small bribe as lubricant, your permits are on the way— not even counterfeits, so consider yourselves in the best of hands. Now, there will be plenty who might to try to figure out your business— avoid them, but if you must, feed them a consistent tale. Based upon what you told me yesterday, you already have camera equipment and a half-baked backstory there, so a documentary team will do nicely. They get more common every year, and its boring enough that no one will want to know the details. Pick something mundane like birds or bugs to pretend filming.”

“Sounds real boring to me,” commented Lucio, looking wistfully at the camera. “Almost, could you say, a waste of talent?”

“Boring is good. What’s bad is getting caught sneaking valuables out of the jungle,” said Leonidas. “Now breakfast is almost ready— this will likely be your last full meal before freeze-dried portions and whatever Zeke can find, so I suggest you eat up unless you enjoy grub and snake stew. And one of you go wake him— tread lightly; he can be a bit jumpy in the mornings.”

I volunteered while Arial and Slugger started filling of packs, while Lucio started the emptying of breakfast. Darian and Lola moved to help with the dishes, Darian attempting to squirt her with water and succeeding in splattering the wall as she momentarily disappeared, much to Leonidas’ annoyance. I crept down the hall, reaching the second door, which was still shut tight, then creaked it open to step into the darkness.

And instantly, I realized I was not alone.

There was a flurry of motion before my eyes adjusted, accompanied by rustling to both my right and left. I tensed, freezing as my pupils dilated, and the contents of the room became apparent.

A dozen terrariums lined the wall, each with a specimen that started towards the fresh light. I could just make out the shape of a scorpion the size of my fist in one, and the outline of a coiled snake in another. A tarantula skittered two feet from my face, its eight eyes swiveling to get a better view of me. Crickets chirped, likely their unfinished supper, and heat radiated away from pads underneath several of the containers.

“Zeke?” I whispered, not willing to step further into the darkness and turn my back on them. Then louder, I repeated, “Zeke?”

There was a sharp breath, and the covers at the far end of the room came off with a kick. Zeke jumped upright, his hands slashing at the air, hyperventilating as his head whipped wildly around, his expression feral. After a moment, he calmed, shrunk in a defensive posture against the wall, and I spoke again, keeping my voice level to not startle him.

“Breakfast is ready.”

Then I shrank away, shivers running down my spine, and wondering just who exactly we had committed to guiding us through the jungle.

Chapter 54

“Lazy. Always taking the easy way out,” muttered Zeke. “No mind for what could go wrong.”

We were seated in Zeke’s motorboat, bobbing in the current of the Amazon river, flakes of rust chipping off from a cleat as he untied us from the dock. Our packs were arranged in a neat row under the back seat, and I rubbed my shoulders, grimacing from where Leonidas had pulled the straps too tight before leaving the apartment.

“And what do you think you are doing?” Zeke had asked as Slugger started his way up the line, brushing his fingers against each of the packs to siphon away their weight.

“Eh, forgot you were new,” said Slugger, touching Zeke’s own pack. “Makes it lighter, see? Lighter pack, faster walk. Lola taught me that bit of math.”

“And cheating now means pain later,” responded Zeke. “No shortcuts.”

“What?” asked Lucio. “You’re saying we have to carry these all the way to the docks? That’s miles.”

“And the Amazon is a mere hundred feet wide, is it not? What if your friend here falls ill, and you have to carry him? Now you carry his weight and the weight of your pack, both of which you are not accustomed to. Shortcuts make you weak, and when things go wrong, shortcuts can cost you your life. No shortcuts.”

“Little on the morbid site, aren’t we, big guy?” asked Slugger. “All life or death, black and white. Maybe there’s some wiggle room in the middle?”

“Wiggle room is where bad things happen. It’s where the unknowns are,” responded Zeke, his expression dark. “It’s best to know where you stand. Never walk on a cliff on a snowy day, when the edge can be hidden.”

We had trudged the entire way through the city, making our way towards the waterfront in a line led by Lola and capped by Zeke. We skirted the market, sticking to more residential side streets at his command and picking up additional supplies to Lucio’s bereavement at a supply point indicated by Zeke. By the time we reached the water, blisters had started developing under our new boots, and doubt crossed the front of my mind. We’d grown soft in the weeks under the subway, soft enough to introduce additional risk into our mission.

For future reference, I made a mental note to implement a regimen when we returned. That was one thing the academy had gotten right— keeping us in shape.

“Lazy,” repeated Zeke back in his boat, staring out across the water as a vessel whizzed past. He shook his head while tilting a crimson gasoline can to refuel, our boat bouncing in the wake of the other. Squinting, I could see that they were propelled by a figure in the back, a Special that pulled a wave of water upwards for them to surf upon, propelling them forwards in a continual white crest.

“Yeah, but I doubt they’ll run out of gas,” said Lucio.

“We can find more gas, and we can fix an engine,” Zeke said, shaking the can so the final drops of fuel trickled out. “But if that one person dies, so do the rest.”

“Well, why not have both, then?” Lucio pried, and Zeke smiled.

“Contingency! You’re learning. We would, but we do not have too far to go. Much of our travel will be on land.”

I frowned, looking back towards the packs and remembering the night before when Lola had shown them our destination on the map.

“We need to get into this general area,” she had said, her eyes glancing over the tabletop while she picked out landmarks, circling a spot the size of a dime. “From there, I can get us in the right direction.”

“The area you circled is a few hundred miles wide,” said Leonidas, squinting down at the region. “You’ll be hard pressed to recognize anything in a spot that large.”

“I’m not banking on me recognizing anything,” Lola answered. “But all that matters is that we get to that area. There will be signs there. And there will be artifacts, I assure you of that. Items untouched for hundreds of years.”

“Then your word is our command, Miss,” said Leonidas. But when he showed Zeke the map, his brother shook his head, casting Lola a dark look.

“Not many people go there, fewer leave it. It’s not somewhere I would seek. And neither should you.”

“Just means that it’s less picked over then, no?”

“By humans, yes. By carrion, no,” answered Zeke, then turned back to his brother, repeating, his voice low, “It’s not somewhere I would seek. Dark secrets of the forest there. Vegetation so thick it blocks the sun.”

“So you’re saying you can’t do it, then?” asked Slugger. “And here I was, thinkin’ we had the best guide in the country. Just a bit of greenery is all. We had plenty of that at home.”

Zeke bristled, then turned to face Lola again, asking with suspicion in his voice, “Where exactly in that area do you seek?”

“Oh, you know, around,” Lola said innocently, not quite meeting his eyes.

“And why there? What are you hoping to find?”

“We’ve caught wind of an expensive artifact of our own,” I interjected before Lola could answer. “But we’re not the only ones who know of it— there are others, people who hope to find it before we do. People that would kill us for it. And you.”

“Not me,” Zeke corrected, and took a slow breath, his eyes turning hollow and his lips thin. “Can’t kill me. But there are worse things than physical injury.” He cast an eye down to his stump of a finger. “Worse things than physical death. The body may live on, long after the spirit has cracked. Perhaps for some, it is best they die.”

He grunted as he retired to his room, stopping in the doorframe. “I will take you there, but what happens to you shall not be on me.” Then he retired, leaving us in silence.

Back on the boat, we started to drift, joining the mass of fishermen, trading barges, and tour boats that cluttered the river delta. One blared its horn for us to pass, and Zeke revved the engine, releasing a cloud of black smoke into the air, the cylinders sputtering in protest.

“Thank god I can fly,” muttered Arial behind me. “If this ship goes down, I’m not sinking with it. You’d think they could afford something a bit nicer instead of being misers.”

I turned back to speak with her, but instead was met with her elbow as Slugger crashed into us, and Lucio pulled down Lola and Darian from where they sat on the front of the deck.

“What the hell—” started Darian, trying to struggle back to his feet, but Slugger cut him off.

“Down, lad; don’t get up. You'll have plenty more time to complain later. Just look first.”

He pointed over the lip of the ship, and we rose slowly, our eyes peering out over the water.

Chapter 55

In the center of the river, traffic parted left and right as if being driven by an invisible wedge, boats nearly tipping over onto their sides as fishermen clung to the railing. Coming to a rest, they rocked back and forth, water sloshing onto the decks and horns blaring. And through the center raced a vessel powered by a wave generated by no less than four Specials, with Lacit standing at the helm.

He raised a languid hand as he passed, casting others aside with a light flicking motion, as if he were swatting lazy flies out of the air. The other boats raced to do his bidding, and directly behind him, Blake laughed as their wake lurched a nearby dock, tossing two workers into the murky water. Then four Specials raised their hands on the back of the boat, calling the water upwards, doubling their speed as they raced towards the jungle.

As they zipped past, I made out several familiar faces— Sparky sat to the right of Blake, the fireball-wielding henchman leaned against a metal pole near the prow, and others from the hotel were scattered between them. Their boat was easily twice as large as ours, the hull still shined bright against the afternoon sun, and their packs looked as if they had been bought the night before.

“I’m assuming,” said Lola once they were a hundred yards away and boats began to flow back into the center accompanied by the cursing of sailors. “That would be Lacit? Charming fellow.”

“It would. And you don’t know the half of it,” I said, pushing myself to my feet. “Glad you’re on our boat, Lola, and not theirs. They’re moving fast enough that if they had a guide as well, we’d never catch up.”

“Can we just switch boats with them?” asked Arial. “Maybe catch them in the night or something?”

“Only if you want to switch guides too,” said Zeke, patting his hand against the steering wheel. “It’s not the equipment, but the operator that matters.”

She made a face as she looked Zeke up and down, her eyes pausing on the piece of breakfast still present on the man’s lip and the tan torso that had yet to be caught in a shirt.

“Great, I feel much better now,” Arial said. “But I don’t suppose there’s any way we’ll be catching them in this.”

“My job isn’t to catch them; it’s to get you there before them,” answered Zeke. “By the looks of it, we wouldn’t be the ones doing the catching.”

“He’s right,” said Darian, helping Lola up to her feet. “That’s the first chance I’ve had to sense Lacit’s power, SC. And you couldn’t get me to touch it. It’s like a hot coal, an ember— I’d get burned if I tried to use it. There’s no containing that.”

“Well yeah,” commented Lucio with a roll of his eyes, “Newsflash: he ripped up a section of street just trying to get at SC. I think it’s safe to say that he’s dangerous.”

“No, you don’t understand,” said Darian, shaking his head. “That would have been like a brisk walk to him. He was holding back, probably because other officers were watching. Or maybe some other reason, maybe he doesn’t even like playing with that much power. Maybe he didn’t really want to catch SC. Either way, he’s been fighting with training wheels on, and I don’t want to be around when he starts revving the engine.”

“We don’t plan to be,” I answered, then cast a glance at Lola. “Our goal is to avoid confrontation.”

“Then let’s make sure we stick to that plan,” said Darian, squaring his shoulders and looking me directly in the eye.

As the other boats on the river recovered, Zeke pushed the throttle, tilting the nose of the boat into the air as we entered pursuit. But his pace was lazy, and Lacit was out of sight before we even reached top speed.

“And how exactly do you plan to beat them to our destination?” I asked Zeke.

“Because they had four Specials,” he answered calmly, taking a swing of water from a canteen, the wind tugging at his scraggly hair.

“And that would be an advantage, wouldn’t it?” I asked, and he raised an eyebrow.

“You got two ears, don’t ya?” he asked. “Four Specials, brand new equipment, new boat. Reliance on their powers above all else. It’s a well-oiled machine with fragile parts. They’re fresh, not seasoned. They’re lazy.”

“We know, we know,” said Lucio, cutting him off and waving a hand in the air. “No mind for what could go wrong. The Jungle doesn’t forget.”

“Right, boy. Looks like you are a good student; picked you out well.”

“I am the smartest of the bunch,” Lucio said with a bow, while Lola rolled her eyes. And I made my way to the back of the boat, my thoughts on Lacit’s Specials, and how I had manipulated water in the sewer the last time I had seen him.

Reaching out with my power, I pulled at the region of water just beyond the turmoil of our engine, raising the liquid a few inches with a test. The force point I created drew it in like a miniature tornado, balling the water upwards in a greenish blob, a lone minnow darting around the interior with frightened eyes. Focusing, I altered the shape of the blob, forming a U-shaped wave that followed a few feet behind the boat.

Then I drew in a deep breath, speaking as I gathered my power.

“Well, if we are going to pursue them, we’ll still need all the speed we can get.”

And in a fluid motion, I rolled the water forwards, the wave rising under my command, rushing underneath us to push the vessel like a surfboard. Combined with the engine, we now moved at twice the speed, leaving the other traffic far behind.

And as we entered the jungle, Zeke cast a look back at the wave, then at me, pinning me down with a knowing stare. Then he smiled, speaking.

“You didn’t tell me you were an Aquatic.” he said, the next few words laced with sarcasm. “I don’t think I ever would have guessed.”

Chapter 56

“We travel up the river to here,” said Zeke, tracing a finger along the map as we gathered for dinner. “After this, we enter true jungle. Refueling and restocking here before. And here, we move inland.”

It was day two of the excursion, mosquitoes were thick in the air, and sunscreen was lathered in a generous layer over our bodies. We’d changed into the clothes provided by Leonidas, tan shirts and shorts with more pockets than I could count, with dry fabric that wicked moisture away from our bodies. Our boots were now worn in, though we’d cut apart a small sheet of moleskin Zeke had provided at breakfast to tend to the blisters, and when I wiggled my toes, I could feel the soft material compressing between them.

The bags under our eyes and yawns testified to the amount of sleep from the previous night. Inside the center of the boat, at the cabin, it was unbearably hot, but outside was swarmed by thousands of bugs. The rocking of the river seemed to simultaneously lull my eyes shut and jerk me awake, prompting dreams such as falling off cliffs or tumbling down stairs, keeping me just barely in the realm of sleep. With each movement, the entire boat shuddered and creaked, the metal beams threatening to snap as the canvas flapped in the wind.

“We’ll be setting up a watch system,” Zeke had said as the sun descended and dusk rolled over the river. “Seven of us, seven hours of sleep. Each of us gets one of those hours.”

“We’re in the middle of a river. What could possibly attack us here?” Lucio had asked, flicking a piece of rust into the water, watching as it twirled into the depths.

“Caimen,” answered Slugger. “Scurry right on up the side of the boat while you sleep for a Lucio snack.”

“More like other people,” said Zeke. “You’ll not be needing to fear the animals, just respect them. But out here, there are no laws. A thief becomes a murderer if it removes all traces of crime. More importantly, we’ll be wanting to get in the habit. Once we go deeper in the forest and leave the boat behind, there will be some animals demanding greater respect.”

“Lucio, could you just give them some memories to make them think we taste less like burgers?” asked Darian.

“Doesn’t work like that,” Lucio said. “Any mind too alien is impossible for me to penetrate. It’s like speaking different languages. Maybe Slugger here can just wrestle the Caimen away.”

“Huh, never actually thought about that,” Slugger had said, pensive. “Never really tried out my power on larger animals, never had to. Wonder if it would work and I could give the gators a run for their money.”

“It’d work,” Lola said, unrolling her sleeping pad. “For animals, there’s no barrier to power usage.”

“Oi, you think you know my power better than I do?” asked Slugger. “I'm what you call a field expert.”

“I think I know theory better than you do. Power strength dictates how well can impact others with your power, due to their aural projection. Since animals, and regulars for that matter, have no powers, they have no projection, and therefore no protection.”

“Break it down into less syllables for me, will ya?” yawned Slugger.

Lola rolled her eyes, then continued, “When you use your power on someone else, their power interferes with it. It’s a natural defense mechanism, a blockage. There are some powers that slip past, like Lucio’s or Siri’s, because the body thinks that it’s friendly. Basically, they trick their way through. It’s similar to how you can use your powers on people that trust you. It’s because their natural defense doesn’t activate.”

Slugger cocked his head, then looked towards Lucio, who had remained heavy when carrying him away from the facility we escaped prior. But beyond the stare, he said nothing, and Lola returned to preparing her bed.

That night, Zeke took the first watch in case we had any difficulties settling in. The first hour passed, and Slugger took second while Zeke claimed the main bed at the far end of the cabin. Within ten minutes, he was asleep, and within thirty minutes, the murmuring began. At first, I thought it was an animal, a combination of rustling and heavier breath in the darkness. Then the breath turned to low growls, and the growls to words, and the words to sentences.

“Safe,” The word came out like gravel and through clenched teeth. “Safe. Safety here. Danger. Safe. Danger, danger coming. Always. Always in darkness.”

“The hell?” Slugger whispered, his head entering the cabin to be met with ten open eyes and five shrugs. Lola rolled over, her hair flattening against the side of her head as her ears disappeared, leaving the rest of us behind.

“Lucio, think you can do something about that?” I asked a few hours later, as he was returning from watch.

“Sure, I’ll just go meddling with Crazy’s head over there while we’re alone in the jungle with him. Nothing could go wrong there, right?” he retorted, rolling over to pull a blanket around his ears. “Seems like the guy already has a funky definition of reality. Do we really want to blur the lines for him?”

The rest of the night passed slow, and Zeke had pulled out the map after a breakfast of granola, raisins, and dehydrated milk the next morning— the combination that seemed to be both sharp and mushy in my mouth at the same time, and leave me both hungry and not wanting another bite.

“Seems like we would be heading inland pretty early, no?” Lola said slowly, following the path that Zeke traced along the river.

“If your enemies know they are being followed, farther up the river is the perfect place for an ambush,” responded Zeke, turning away. “And while I can smell danger, there are places where it cannot be avoided. Bends in the river surrounded by thick vegetation where we cannot dock, for instance, or cliffs on both sides. I’d advise we avoid corners where we can be trapped.”

“But by water is going to be far quicker than by land,” Lola protested. “There’s no way we can drive a truck through the dense forest. We’ll be walking, and we’ll be walking farther.”

“There are other ways,” said Zeke, flipping open his lighter again and letting the flames dance across where his fingers used to be. “Some of them that no one else would dare traverse. But they are quicker, and straighter shots, than what your enemies will take. And should they follow us, nature will fight our battle for us. Only fools fight nature.”

Chapter 57

I sat at the front of the boat watching the river slide by, listening to the ambient sounds of the jungle. To my right, there was a swish as something dove beneath the water from the bank, its dark shape rapidly hidden in the thin mud. Monkeys jeered from the treeline, shaking their fists as we passed, and Lucio was preoccupied with making faces back at them. Birds elicited every sound imaginable, from chirps to outright screams, and frogs croaked from down below like players in an orchestra pit. And behind me, there was the tssss as Arial applied another layer of bug spray that proved mildly effective at best at repelling mosquitoes.

“This entire jungle is a breeding ground,” she complained, looking at her arms, which were covered with red polka dots. “I’m getting eaten alive.”

“Sounds like you’re doing your part to keep the forest thriving,” said Slugger from the shade. “You’re quite the environmental activist.”

“And how come you’re not getting bitten up?” she asked. “You should do your part too, right?”

“Beats me. I don’t think they like the taste of sunburn,” he answered with a shrug and sat up so we could see his face was as red as his hair. Arial winced.

“You’ll get used to the bugs. Besides, the river is narrow here. It isn’t so bad when the water is wider,” said Lola from her chair. Around her, mosquitoes constantly disappeared, forming a new cloud on the other side. But everywhere else, they were thick, the whining constantly filling our ears, our hands smacking away the horde of pests before they had a chance to bite. The candles lit around us managed to drive some away with their thick smell, but it was a losing battle, and the constant movement of the boat brought in fresh visitors.

“Not all of us have built-in pest control,” Arial retorted.

“Actually,” I said, and focused on the table in front of me. “We might.”

I flexed my power, creating a light force point on top of it, just enough that the edges of Arial’s hair tilted forwards and I could feel a light tug on my skin. The contents of the table gathered around it, sheets of paper crumpling in the center, with a fork sticking out like a compass needle. And around us, the cloud wavered, condensing in around the table. Like miniature comets, the bugs fell to the orb of paper, specks of darkness that impacted on its surface and crawled in a wriggling mass. A few tried to launch back into the air but fell immediately, unable to muster the escape velocity needed.

“That,” sighed Arial, leaning back to leave her legs unprotected, “is a million times better.”

In moments, the others joined us around the orb, seeking refuge from the onslaught. Even Zeke stalked to the deck to investigate, nodding as he noticed the orb.

“Some trick for a Watermancer,” he commented, his eyes on me.

“You have your secrets, we have ours,” I said, meeting his stare and holding it.

“No secrets here,” responded Zeke, spreading his hands wide. “You just haven’t asked the right questions.”

“Such as why you’re guiding us into the jungle for next to free?” probed Arial. “I’m not buying what your brother said, and I’ve learned the hard way that strangers don’t always have our best interest at heart. In fact, usually, they don’t.”

“Such as that, yes.” He smiled and sat on the rail of the rail of the boat. From inside, Darian steered, and Zeke made a sideways wave motion to instruct him to correct closer to the center of the river. We lurched left, and Zeke pulled a knife from his belt, the blade ground to a sharp polish, and absentmindedly started flipping it into the air. He caught the point between two fingers, flipped it up again, and continued, “But you’re right; strangers don’t have your best interest at heart. They have theirs. That’s nature. Survival.”

“And since we know your brother is after riches, what are you after? You can’t expect us to believe that you do this in return for food,” continued Arial.

“Riches? Artifacts, not riches,” said Zeke, the knife glinting off the sun as it wove through his knuckles. “After all, what is the point of riches? Slips of paper whose power disappears without warning. No, I’m here because I want to be, because this jungle is my home.”

“As a Survivalist? Wouldn’t your instinct be to avoid it, if it’s filled with danger?”

“Ah, but that’s the thing about danger. It’s addictive, and everyone wants more of it. Humans return time and time again to the vices that kill them— drinking until their livers fail, smoking their lungs out, going thirty over the speed limit. Hell, just the perception of danger is enough — roller coaster, skydiving, you catch my drift. And when you can feel it, when you sense danger itself, that addiction is multiplied tenfold.”

“If you’re so addicted to it, there are plenty of places worse than here,” said Arial. “Why not just live in a warzone?”

“Ah, but here, I’m productive. To my brother, or my family, at least. You see, when we were young, my grandmother had us give her a promise. She built her house to last because she wanted it to stand forever. Because she thought she would live in it forever. Legend is, there’s something in this jungle that could make it happen. As Survivalists, we can feel our own death coming— it’s like a sound forever coming closer, one inescapable to us. Or perhaps, merely almost inescapable.”

“It’s a myth,” chimed in Lola from her chair, not even bothering to open her eyes. “If you’re seeking the fountain of youth, prepare to be disappointed. There is no such thing.”

“Can’t know that without checking all the corners,” Zeke said, then quieter, his voice with an edge to it. “I’ve seen stranger things. That’s why we collect the artifacts— they’re clues. And there are many corners left unchecked.”

“And they’ll get you nowhere. Dream about things that are actually possible, things with actual evidence.”

“Evidence is fickle, but that is something I do have,” said Zeke, and he disappeared into the cabin, returning with a small wooden chest. Flipping the lid open, he showed us two objects beneath a pane of glass. Two stone carvings, both with minute details down to strands of hair, and each the size of a fist.

“See these? I would say they are of the same woman, wouldn’t you? Look closely— same features on the face. Same stance. Same mole, right there, on her right cheek. Even the same clothes.”

“Okay, sure, but what does that prove?” asked Lucio, taking a break from leering at the monkeys. “Sure, they’re the same person.”

“Because these were made one thousand years apart, and both found deep in the jungle. That’s longer than any legend should last, especially among the tribes.”

“Eh, they look the same, but that’s quite the stretch,” I said, looking to Lola, but she remained silent, averting her eyes from the statues.

“It’s just one piece of the puzzle. We have more, plenty more.” He shut the lid with a snap, then leaned back, staring into the forest, the skin stretched tight across his face. “But that is what my brother wants, not me. They say that very water grants not only immortality, but healing as well.” He raised his hand, flashing his stump of a finger. “And there’s something I’d like to have healed.”

“Then you wouldn’t use it to live forever?” asked Arial.

“There are worse things than death,” he said, leaving then closing the cabin door behind him. “And I would rather embrace the night than live in an eternity of fire. And when you live forever, it’s bound to happen sooner or later. I feel it.”

Chapter 58

“And, action!” said Lucio, bent backwards halfway over the rail of the boat with camera in hand, his eye glued to its back. Zeke cast him a wary gaze, looking to the water ten feet below him, flexing his good hand in anticipation. Just a few minutes ago, at the close of “take sixteen,” he had yanked Lucio back into the boat by his collar. As he fell, Lucio had used the last of his balance to make sure the camera landed in the boat, and had gagged when Zeke had caught his shirt just by the fingertips, reeling him in like a cat by the scruff of his neck.

“Cut, cut!” Lucio shouted as Darian stumbled on an uneven piece of deck. He mashed his knuckles into the side of his head as Darian climbed to his feet, releasing a sigh long enough to form an intermission.

“Darian! You’re supposed to come in from stage left, left, not stage right! Now we have to do this again; let’s get it right.”

“I agreed to this because I was bored, not because I wanted to be yelled at,” responded Darian, massaging his knee from where it had skidded during the fall. “There are other things I can do to keep myself entertained, you know.”

“Ah, come on, Darian, don’t leave!” Lucio pleaded, panic flickering across his face. “Besides, we agreed that filming was still the best cover-up in case we get caught. And for that, we need footage, right?”

“We agreed a bug documentary was the best cover up,” Darian answered and gestured. “I see plenty of bugs. In fact, I’m in the minority of not being a bug here. So you have enough actors to last you a lifetime.”

“Come on, no one would believe a bug documentary. That’s ridiculous,” said Lucio and turned back to the scene. Arial strained as she hovered fifteen feet above with an enormous bucket of water meant to simulate a wave crashing on the deck, and Lola relaxed on the far rail, flower petals strewn around her that had been collected from plants overhanging the river. Slugger crouched off to the right behind a crate with his fingers under the edge, while I waited on the other end of the ship with a dozen objects heaped in front of me.

“All right, take twenty-two,” said Lucio then glared at Zeke. “I’m not going to fall in again, and staring at me is just making me itch for the rail. Your boat isn’t big enough for me to stand far enough away for the proper shot. All right, take your positions! And ready, set, action!”

Darian ambled across the deck to Lola, adding a sway to his shoulders, standing next to her as the petals blew across the warped wood.

“Don’t you ever wonder,” said Lola, holding her hand up to her head and peering into the jungle as if it were an enormous sea, “what lies beyond the waves? What might be out there that no other eyes have seen?”

“Lady,” said Darian, his voice unnaturally low and his back stiff, glancing too often directly at the camera. “I have traversed these waters, erm, I have traversed these waters countless times. What’s land is mapped. They might look mysterious, but there’s naught beyond the waves but waves.”

“If you say so,” Lola answered, appearing unconvinced. “But how can anyone really know? Is it not arrogant to believe that all has been found, that man has conquered nature at its game?”

Outside the scene, Zeke hid a smile. He’d helped Lucio write that line, while Arial peered over his shoulder to spell check him. And from behind the camera, Lucio raised then dropped his hand, which was the signal for the special effects of the scene to begin.

Slugger launched the crate in the air as Lola and Darian fake stumbled, the wood box tumbling across the deck with a crash.

“The engines!” shouted Darian as Lola executed a dramatic fall, her arm falling across her face. “The engines must have blown!”

“We’re sinking! May the gods forgive us!” cried Lola, and above, Arial reacted to her cue, pouring the bucket in a stream over the two of them. But from my angle, it was evident that Lola received far more of the fake ocean spray than Darian. She sputtered as Lucio dropped his hand again, which was my signal, and I created a force point to drag the barrels, lengths of rope, and life vests in front of me across the deck. Lucio tilted the camera as they slid past, while Lola and Darian clutched at the rail as if they were being pulled sideways. Arial swooped above with another bucket of water, this time hitting only Lola with the spray, and Lola jumped to her feet, raising a fist at her and shouting.

“Why don’t you come down here and I’ll give you a taste of your own medicine!”

“And cut!” shouted Lucio, prancing onto the deck and beaming. “That was the perfect shot! And, Lola, the improvisation at the end there, declaring your personal vendetta against the gods, really sealed the scene! Wonderful, wonderful, this wraps up all the at-ocean scenes— we’re ready to start filming in the jungle, also known as our uncharted island. Slugger, get ready; you’re the barbarian in this next scene. We’ll be needing to really dress you up.”

Lola still glared up at Arial, who stuck her tongue out at her, but the anger subsided as Lucio continued talking about the next scene. For the fifth time, Zeke confirmed he did not have gunpowder aboard for Lucio’s special effects, and Darian tried to produce the firewhip power, though it had faded to little more than fire threads visible only at night.

As the rest of the group trudged inside, Zeke stayed outside with Lucio, picking at his teeth with the end of his knife and watching as Lucio studied the script.

“Why do you care so much about this?” Zeke asked as Lucio crossed out two lines and rewrote them.

“Because as long as we’re doing nothing but waiting, we might as well create! There’s a film festival at home, and we’re going to win it. It’s going to be spectacular.”

“Spectacular for who?” Zeke prodded, and Lucio looked up, confused.

“Why everyone watching, of course. Who else?”

“And why would you care about what they think?”

“Because that’s how a film gets big, Zeke. That’s the point of making a movie, so other people can enjoy it.”

“Is it?” Zeke said, starting to walk back towards the cabin. “Or is it about making something you think is spectacular? Say this movie of yours were to fall into the river at the end of our journey and no one were to watch it for a dozen years. Would you change anything about it?”

“Of course I would! I’d have to know the trends of the time, what they care about, the styles! It would all change based on them!”

“Maybe that’s your problem, then,” Zeke said, nodding towards the camera. “Make a film like that, and it will be forgotten in ten years. Is that what you want?”

“No, no, of course not— it’d have to be remembered,” stuttered Lucio, then he shuddered. “Being forgotten would be the worst.”

“It is,” said Zeke, after a long pause. “It absolutely is. And if I could give you another piece of advice, I’d say being forgotten by your friends is far worse than being forgotten by your fans.” He nodded towards the inside of the cabin, and continued. “And the surefire way to be forgotten by your friends is to forget they’re your friends in the first place.”

Chapter 59

Zeke woke me that night to take third watch, and I stumbled out to the wheel of the ship, blinking sleep from my eyes. Over the last day, as we had wound up the river further and further from civilization, the boughs overhead grew thick, closing in from the banks to strangle out the sky. But even with the interference, never before in my life had I seen so many stars.

The other nights had been cloudy, obstructing a smattering of light pinpricks across sky canvas, but tonight, the weather was clear. My breath caught as I stared above, a feeling stirring deep within me. A peaceful yearning, as if I could reach up with my hands and gather them like fireflies, and they would welcome me into their ranks. As if I could become one of them.

“I acted the same way the first time my grandmother took me out here,” said Zeke, following my gaze.

“You really don’t get these in the city,” I answered, still looking up, “I didn’t even know you could actually see the Milky Way from the ground.”

“Way it’s meant to be,” he said. “Heavens bestowing light, not darkness. Even at night. Wouldn’t you say?”

He stared at me, and I shifted, feeling the dark orb I had stashed in the pocket in space above my wrist. It was larger than most, with plenty of sunlight bundled inside it. But if I were to cast it into the sky, it’d look the opposite of the stars, even though it held more light than them all combined.

“Sounds about right. Haven’t ever seen it work the other way around,” I said.

“You would think so,” he said, leaning back. “But there’s plenty you can’t see, even though it’s there. Sorta like that power you’ve been keeping hidden— there’s few that give me the willies like that. Screams danger, screams it. Surprised the jungle hasn’t taken notice yet; that’s usually something it’s attentive to. But the crickets still chirp, and the birds still sing.”

“Maybe they just haven’t heard of this type of danger.”

“Eh, danger is a language that all living things speak, or they’re doomed to die out. Perhaps they can sense that you mean them no harm. But by my experience, that doesn’t mean much.”

“What’re you trying to say?” I asked, shifting, memories pulling at me that I pushed away.

“The thunderstorm means no harm by its lightning— it is simply what the storm is. The earthquake does not plan to tear apart foundations, rather the broken foundations are an aftereffect. And you mean no harm by your power, but that doesn’t matter, does it? I can feel it; it has destroyed before, hasn’t it?”

I swallowed, my thoughts turning back to Larissa’s missing arm, my orb consuming her muscle and bone with no regard to its source. I’d hoped to leave the memory at home, but it still followed me now— and I shivered, thinking back to when Blake had held Lucio captive. Had I really not used my power because Lucio was in danger, or was there another reason? Was I scared that it might kill? Even Peregrine still haunted my dreams, and I would kill him again given the chance. But could I live with killing Blake, whose mind had been twisted by Siri? Was it really Blake’s fault that he had become, well, Blake?

“It has, but never on purpose,” I answered, refusing to meet his eyes. “I’m not proud of it.”

“Pride has nothing to do with it. That’s a burden you must carry with your essence,” Zeke said. “You cannot suppress it without consequences. It’s nature. The person who stirs the viper’s nest has no right to be angry when they are bitten, and those that walk in fire will be burned.” He cleared his throat, then continued, “Now that’s no excuse for attacking the innocent. But in life, there are risks, and those risks must be weighed. Acknowledged. And sooner or later, you’ll roll a snake eyes, and the risk will become real, no matter how slight. And then, you’ll have to act.”

“So why not just remove the risk?” I asked. “If you could, wouldn’t you just kill all the vipers, or take their poison away?”

“Who am I to lord over nature?” Zeke answered, looking back up towards the stars. “The world is a balance, and those who try to artificially sway it often do so for the worse. Kill the viper, and perhaps something worse takes its place. Perhaps the entire food chain is disrupted, and other species die off as well. There’s a place for everything, and simply eradicating beings deemed disagreeable or dangerous is the act of playing God.”

“Then what’s the point of fighting against anything, then? What are we supposed to do, just let the bad guys win?” Frustration carried through my voice, and I ground my knuckles on the rail of the boat, risking splinters.

“Usually, the bad guys are people of a warped nature. They’re not living their lives as intended. But even if they are, nature is a struggle. Prey fights back against predator just as predator must hunt prey. But the prey should feel no remorse when the predator is hurt, nor should the predator apologize to his meal. Point is, discover your nature. Don’t seek out ill of others. But if others are hurt when they try to hamper you, well,” he flicked his lighter, letting the flame sit in the spot where his finger used to be, “I consider that their own damn fault.”

I stared into the darkness for my hour of watch when Zeke retired, gently steering the boat as he had shown us the day before. I shivered, alone at the wheel, thinking over his words. Unsure if he was wise or insane, or perhaps both.

The rest of the hour passed slowly, with only a few rustles along the bank to draw my attention. Above, the stars continued to watch over me, and the moon illuminated a strip down the river that seemed to reach to me like a beckoning hand. My thoughts drifted, and I remembered my first interactions with Siri, then with Lacit. And I wondered what the point was in fighting them, whether more would just spring up in their place. If we would save the world today just for it to fall tomorrow, with more injured along the way.

Then I was relieved of my watch duty, but my eyes were just as open in the sleeping cabin as they had been on the watch. And in my mind, his voice echoed.

The prey should feel no remorse when the predator is hurt.

Chapter 60

“Holy hell, take a look at this!” Lucio’s voice rang out from the deck, followed by footsteps as he rushed into the cabin, throwing clothes out of his pack in a mad search. “Camera, where’s the camera? Hurry!”

“What? It’s on the table,” moaned Arial, blinking sleep from her eyes. “What’s going on?”

“A scene is what’s going on!” Lucio responded, snatching the camera and darting back out of the cabin. “Up and out, let’s go! I need actors!”

I stumbled outside, still in the cloths that I had slept in, shading my eyes against the light of dawn. Lucio was throwing around props on the deck, draping vines Arial had collected for him over the rail to hide the metal and rustling a mat of leaves to conceal the wood. For good measure, he dumped a couple of our packs on the ground in a circle to simulate a campsite, then aimed his camera at the scene. But the object of the shot was not the props— rather, it was the forest beyond, where a dark shape leered at us from a tree covered in moss, so massive it dwarfed the trunk.

Fangs snarled and a forked tongue flared, making me jump back before I realized the slitted eyes were glazed over and the torso hung limp. And the body was thick, covered in scales that raced down its length until they were rent in two, the mighty snake ripped in half down the middle, with its tail discarded on the ground like a log. The rest dangled in the air from the wedge in a branch, the wood bowing under its weight, a knot in the serpent’s center giving the appearance of an enormous rope swing.

“I can’t believe the size of that thing,” gasped Arial beside me. “There’s no way that’s natural! For my tenth birthday, my father booked the zoo and the keepers showed me around the reptile area. There was nothing near that big. Some power had to intervene.”

“It’s not natural, surely,” growled Zeke, his jaw clenched. “But for a different reason. The python is natural; what happened to it is not.”

“You’re saying that it grew that big on its own?” Arial asked, casting a nervous glance down at the murky water. “I’m starting to become a lot more grateful of my power.”

“Yes, and that one is only average. Looks to be male and young, so it runs small. We’ve already passed about a dozen larger ones, felt them around us on the banks.”

“And you didn’t tell us?” Arial demanded, her eyes widening.

“You didn’t need to know,” Zeke responded, then as the rest of the group rounded on him, he continued speaking, leaning against the wall of the cabin, rubbing the back of his hand against a rusty nail protruding from the wood. “At this moment, there is a nest of deadly spiders in the branch ten feet to Arial’s right. Underneath us, I can feel a cloud of piranhas thicker than mosquitoes, and at least two of the bugs circling you now contain a disease that would keep you bedridden for weeks. To the north, a storm brews, and it will likely pass, but if it does not, we can expect lightning. A large cat is watching Lola from the east, and if you were to step ashore, you would become dinner due to your size. Lucio nearly ignited our fuel reserves earlier playing with matches. Slugger almost tilted the boat over by changing the weights of too much cargo. And every time SC moves too quickly, I feel as if a hole is about to be punched through the hull.”

Zeke closed his eyes as we were silent, Arial’s face a slightly lighter shade.

“But you don’t need to know all that. We live in a fragile world, where only one change can mean death, but to live in fear is not to live at all. So I ask you this— let me handle the danger. I know the jungle, and she knows me, and I will keep her from stepping atop you. It’s best you were ignorant.”

“Point taken,” said Arial slowly and avoiding his gaze. “But as guide, if you do see something out of the normal, make sure we know.”

“You will, and this is the first,” said Zeke, nodding to the snake. “It’s not wise to do such a thing here. It stirs the hornet’s nest. Nature has a way of remembering.” He sighed, shaking his head as he went back inside. And on the deck, Lucio had positioned Darian and Lola in front of the snake, leaning back over the railing once more to catch them on film.

“The land we walk is filled with monsters,” announced Darian a tad too loudly and staring too directly into the lens. “And only a monster worse than this one could do this!”

“Oh dear,” Lola answered, raising a hand to her forehead. “Marooned and hunted? However shall we survive?”

“Perhaps we must become monsters ourselves,” Darian answered. “But how then are we different than the serpents that infest this land?”

“Oh, I dread it,” said Lola, then stopped, looking directly at Lucio, who held up the next line as she broke character. “Lucio, I am not going to call Darian my own little monster. That’s incredibly unbelievable and corny.”

“I wrote these on the fly, I only had a few minutes,” Lucio protested as the boat started moving again. “We can dub it out later; hurry! We need this footage. Lola. You have to sell it!”

Then they restarted, Lola rolling her eyes but complying, and soon the snake was left far behind, forgotten by all but the carrion.

Chapter 61

“We are approaching our first stop,” said Zeke as we ate dinner that day, a small army of canned food defending the counter behind him. “And it is time for you to be warned of your first danger. One easily avoidable if you respect it.”

“Oi, I’d like to know what you think would happen if we just bowled right through it,” said Slugger, leaning back in his chair, slapping an empty cup over to illustrate his point. “With the element of surprise on our side, is there really that much here that could stop us? I’d say we pack a right hard punch between all of us.”

“You can try to think about it that way,” answered Zeke, setting his spoon into a bowl of baked beans. “Though you’d leave nothing but destruction in your path. But say you don’t care about that. The thing about danger, and death really, is that it only has to happen once. With but a one-percent risk, it will catch you eventually. Play enough hands of poker, and eventually you’ll be caught by a royal flush. So should you choose that method, I advise using it sparingly.”

“Right, but then if there’s only a one-percent chance in this jungle, then we’re already pretty safe,” said Slugger. “Got to take some risks, right?”

“I did not say that,” answered Zeke. “That was only an example. There is more than what you see here. More than what you think you know. I would not scoff at the invisible.”

“I think we might have an idea,” Lola muttered, and Lucio waggled his fingers in a spooky fashion behind her head, whipping them away before she could turn around and see them.

“Regardless, the second reason is should you try to barge through the jungle, you will lose me as a guide. I like the jungle more than I like people. Far more. Now the danger we approach is small camp, a hermitage. Only a few dozen live there, people who have left society behind for a better life.”

“A better life out here? Seems like they’re giving up a lot for that. If I were to give up society, I’d move somewhere nice, like a mountain or valley. At least somewhere with a hot shower,” said Arial, as she used a napkin to remove a streak of dirt from her forearm. When it came to showers, the boat was severely lacking in water pressure.

“Half the reason they moved here is because it is unpleasant. It’s a defense mechanism of sorts. And I would have joined them long ago, if I could. You see, these people are Regulars, and they’re living where no Special should just wander in. This far in the jungle, there are no laws— instead, they’ve built their own. Above all others is that any Special entering their compound is punishable by death.”

“Well, that’s not fair!” protested Lucio. “Why do they get to say whether or not we can enter?”

“Same reason that Specials walk on Regulars every day and call it civilization. You think that’s fair?” retorted Zeke before jamming more beans into his mouth.

“Most Specials walk on us just as much, so we get shit on by both sides, if you ask me,” answered Lucio, throwing his hands in the air.

“And you also have an opportunity to fight back. They don’t. Let them have this, their exile, a place safe for them. But here is your warning— these hermits, or rather, monks, are a sect of the Litious, who believe that any usage of powers is a perversion of nature. That is why they kill Specials, and why they will do it with religious fervor. They will have absolutely no remorse when the pull the knife from your chest.”

“I still think we could take a few,” Slugger said, balancing his knife on his palm. “It’ll be like playing in a little league. How hard could it be?”

“It’s said that every morning they paint their nails with the poison from tree frogs found only in this region, with no known cure. For years, they have built a tolerance against the poison— so while they are immune, it would kill anyone else in a matter of minutes. Now I want you to imagine dozens of them attacking you— and all it takes is one small nick to end your life. Not only that, but they don’t care about losing their own lives in the process. Now, in addition to their fingernails are also darts, and arrows, and traps designed specifically against Specials. Sound like it’s worth the risk? More importantly, the loss of life?”

“Eh, nah,” said Slugger, resigning and letting the knife fall into his bowl with a plop. “But I was just saying, they would leave with casualties.”

“And they wouldn’t care, because in their eyes, they would have ended a heretic while becoming a martyr,” sighed Zeke. “So here is the rule— after this afternoon, no more use of powers or even mentioning of powers until I give the clear. And if they somehow discover it, we don’t wait— we run. The Litious are some of the kindest people you will ever meet, but also the most ruthless. It’s probably why so many of them are great friends of mine.” He laughed then continued, “Or maybe because every time I go, the danger makes it feel as if I walk on needles. They still think I’m a Regular.”

The day passed, and the jungle grew quieter as the sun slid across the sky. At its highest point, Zeke gave the command, and we ceased all usage of our abilities. Except for his, since they were natural and nearly undetectable. Then he instructed us to determine which supplies were low— taking stock of gasoline, food, water, and other necessities then adding them to a list.

Just before dinner, two long docks extended in the water, built from wood pylons lashed together with dark tarred rope, with dozens of metal cleats along their edge to tie the boat. Zeke cast a rope over, snagging one of the hooks and pulling us in, then leapt onto the wood. It creaked underneath him, bending but not breaking, and the rest of us joined him, the feeling of dry land refreshing after days in the river.

“Now, do not speak unless prompted, and remember, you are Regulars,” he said. “The retreat is one mile inland, and we’ll be trading them for new supplies. Accept no gifts from them, as in their custom, that puts us in their debt.”

He took two steps towards the land, then froze, his muscles tightening. He seemed to sniff the air, raising onto tiptoe as if he could see the village through the vegetation.

“Something’s wrong,” he muttered, his voice low, then setting off at a quick walk as we struggled to follow.

“Shouldn’t we go the other direction, then?” prompted Arial, just as we stepped into the greenery.

“No,” he said, pausing to face us, his face drawn. “I should feel danger here, as if our deaths were around the corner. But no, it’s numb. Worse.”

He swallowed, then redoubled his speed, speaking one last sentence.

“I feel safe.”

Chapter 62

“Follow my steps,” said Zeke, stopping to look back at us, the ground behind depressed tin two spots where his feet had been only moments before. “My exact steps. Miss one and I have no control, no guarantee of your safety. Now quickly!”

He took off running, and with a dubious look, Arial leapt a foot into the air before following, the height difference putting her shoulders level with his. I raced behind, my stride longer than normal as I jumped in his tracks, ducking and weaving as Zeke zigzagged. His path cut sharply, darting around tree trunks and avoiding a small patch of ferns, where something slithered under the fronds. Zeke’s steps and Arial’s gliding were silent, but the remainder of us crashed through the undergrowth, scaring away small critters that skittered through the leaves, plus something larger that bent the vegetation around it. Aside from a patch of brown fur that flashed between the green, I saw nothing more, and in moments, it too was left behind.

At first, we neither saw nor heard the village— rather, we smelled it. The scent of something that absolutely did not belong in the jungle, and made us cough as we rushed closer. Smoke.

Arial dropped lower as the particulate grew thicker, letting Zeke take the brunt of the smoke, and in moments, we crashed into a clearing as the foliage broke around us. It looked as if we had jumped back several centuries, the buildings more primitive than any I had seen in the city. The bricks were made from mud and were uneven, stacked and packed by hand. Thatching covered the top of the dozen huts in sight, while wooden handrails and bridges led across the irrigation ditches between them, originating from a fountain at the center run not by powers but a natural stream. The paths were gravel, the rock chipped in nonuniform sizes, with some of the stones as large as my fist and smooth from the river.

But there was another hut that had been reduced to neatly stacked bricks, the only sign that they had been disassembled the furniture left in the center. Thatching lay in neat rows around its flooring, and as I peered around the clearing, I saw five or six others also deconstructed. As I drew a sharp breath, my eyes traced trails of blood to the bodies floating in the fountain, their faces bloated, the stones around the water stained crimson.

Tattoos crisscrossed their skin, racing in lines that converged in focal points above their hearts and at major joints, in some regions so thick that they appeared more ink than person. Their eyes were open, staring upwards at the azure sky, their expressions still locked in shock. And around them, their weapons lay torn apart— blow guns with darts in neat piles around them, hatches with the blades separated from the handle, spears decoupled with their tips.

And only once before had I seen destruction so neatly orchestrated.

“Lacit,” I whispered, unable to look away from the scene. For there were other signs— charred wood scattered around the clearing, some of it still on fire but heavily localized. Scorch marks the shape of fireballs accompanied them— fireballs the same size as the ones that had been lanced at me by one of Lacit’s men. And there were footprints that looked inhuman— deep grooves in the ground that cut into the soil, accompanied by slashes along hut walls caused by diamond hands. Among the dead, there was one I recognized— one of Lacit’s men from the hotel who had guarded the entrance, a dart hanging from his limp neck, and his face colored deep purple.

Zeke stood stunned, blinking as he surveyed the scene, his voice slow and disconnected as he spoke.

“Only a few hours old, if that. The flies have not yet arrived for the bodies. And the wood, the wood still burns.”

He walked mechanically to the huts, checking each, wandering like a lost ghost among the dead. But each time he cast a door open, the room beyond was empty of life— nothing but prayer rugs and supplies, shattered glass, and overturned chairs. He shook his head, wide-eyed as he stood in front of the largest hut, the woven door slashed in half. Dust and ash blew across a scorched welcome mat, and he spat on it, the liquid sizzling as it met fire.

Apart from us, the clearing was dead silent, the only noise the occasional popping of wood. But then, from the fountain, there was another sound. Barely audible, but enough that all our heads rose in unison.

A low groan, as a shaking hand the rose out of the water to grip the side of the stone, the knuckles white from loss of blood, and a face so pale that the grey hair shrouding it looked black.

“They tried to kill us all,” she whispered as Zeke ran to her, and closed her eyes before speaking a single word. “Tried.”

Chapter 63

The woman coughed, wet blood trickling down her cheek to mingle with the dry skin, and her eyes wandered in and out of focus on Zeke’s face, looking past the rest of us as if we were part of the scenery.

“Heh, it’s dark you know, just like you said it would be,” she croaked, blinking. “Fits in just right, as promised.” She smiled, dazed, while Zeke placed a hand on her shoulder, cradling her head in the other hand.

“Shh, Freja, shh,” Zeke whispered, preparing to lift her from the water. “It’s not yet your time. We have a boat; we can take you back.”

Freja drew in a sharp breath as he started to lift her, clutching her stomach as soon as it cleared the water, hiding a long gash that cut directly through her brown-covered robe. A robe that had hidden the leaking blood among the already red-stained water, concealing the depth of the wound.

“You’re a terrible liar, Zeke, and you always have been. My work here is done, I’m happy, content. By the time you would bring me back, I’d be colder than a mountain spring. Besides,” she said and seemed to notice us for the first time, lowering her voice so we could barely hear her, “our work here is done; we found it. And they can never take that away from us again. It’s true, Zeke. We’re pure. We’ve confirmed it now for two years.”

“I can get her to a hospital quickly,” interrupted Arial, stepping forwards. “I just have to—”

“Arial, now is not the time. You can drive the boat just as quickly as I can,” Zeke interrupted, raising his voice to reprimand her. “And what did you find, Freja? Where?”

“And to have a Healer patch me up? I would rather be burned alive, though I suppose I already have been. Zeke, we learned to dance.” She laughed, the smile wiping the pain off her face. “To think, all this time we just had to listen to the music. Finally translated the old records; it was worth the years, the hope. And it was true.”

“And? Where are they?” A sense of urgency entered Zeke’s voice, and he clutched her shoulder stronger than he should have. She gestured, her face peaceful, at the remains of a burnt hut.

“The only fire in the village I started. Now they exist in two places only. The past and the mind of my son. As I said, they didn’t kill us all. Now they never will. Never.” Triumph flashed across her face, and she sank back into the fountain with the other corpses. “And now, it’s my turn to dance. Find my son, Zeke. We owe you our thanks— for you showed us the way. You unlocked the cage. Your suffering, your suffering was not wasted.”

Then her eyes started to glaze over, and one closed as she faded, and ripples no longer spread from her chest with her inhalations. Zeke released her as she fell beneath the surface of the water, her face obscured by crimson swirls. With a grimace, he dipped his thumb into the water, then pressed it over his bare chest.

“May my heart follow yours, and may you find your way,” he said. “For though all of us walk the path, not all of us arrive. May danger never pursue you on your new journey.” He dipped his head in respect, then walked to the hut that she had indicated, and Arial trailed after him, her voice shrill.

“What if I could have saved her?” she shouted as he picked up a stick in stirred through the embers, searching beneath them. “It wouldn’t even have jeopardized the journey. I could zip there and back in hours! You were just going to let her die!”

“It was her wish,” said Zeke simply, picking up a shred of paper then casting it down after seeing no writing was on the page. “It was not for you to decide.”

“Neither was it for you!” Ariel shouted and pulled the stick from his hands, throwing it away and rising to the level of his face. “I could have done it. I could have mended it.” Tears brimmed in her eyes, and her fingers were balled into fists as her sides.

“You’re right, you could have. But it was her decision. And if you did fix her, she would have thought herself a monster. Would you come back from the brink of death if it meant you were forever tainted? No, Freja died as she lived— pure. She had many years and she lived them well.”

“And she could have had many more!”

“Maybe,” said Zeke, and his own voice hardened with anger. “But perhaps the answer to that would not be healing her, but stopping those who killed her in the first place. Maybe the answer isn’t to patch things up, but to stop them from being ripped. But when people are born with knives, there will always be those whose throats are slit.”

“Don’t you try to blame us for this,” stammered Arial, unprepared for the attack. “There are people who use their powers for good too. That’s what we’re trying to do. And you’re a Special too!”

“Like you said, to mend. Mend all you want, but there are things that will always be broken. Now if you’ll leave me,” he growled and picked up the stick to continue digging, “I just lost a dear friend, one I have not seen in years. The fact that you insinuate I did not care for her life is an insult greater than you can imagine. If you still want a guide when we leave, I need some time not spent in some fruitless ideological debate with no bearing upon current reality.”

Arial opened her mouth again, but I took her arm, pulling her away.

“Look,” I said when Zeke was out of earshot and the tears had broken through to flow down her cheeks. “I know you want to help. We all do. And though it was too late for her, there might be other survivors. We should spend our time trying to find them.”

I embraced her, and she wiped her tears on my shoulder, and I clasped my hands behind her back.

“I just wanted to fix it,” she muttered, blinking the rest of the tears away.

“Zeke’s right,” I said. “Not everything can be stitched back together. But that shouldn’t stop us from trying from keeping the world from falling apart.”

Then I took her hand, and we started to walk the perimeter of the camp, searching for additional survivors, though I knew none would exist.

Chapter 64

“Disgusting. I can't comprehend why anyone would do this,” said Lola when I split from Arial and she started walking beside me, weaving in and out of the destroyed huts. “I’ve already checked and there are no survivors. There’s no power concealing them that I can tell or I probably would have seen its shadow on the other side.”

Each area we passed through looked like it had been hit by a separate natural disaster— one building was ripped apart by wind, the bricks scattered in a splattered blast behind it. Another had deep cracks and was still cold to the touch, along with chips that had been dug deep into the clay by icicles. And then there were the perfectly neat ones, ones undone by Lacit’s hand, that looked ready to spring back into huts at a moment’s notice. But among them, nothing stirred. Not even bugs in a jungle thick with life.

“I thought so as well,” I answered, looking to Arial as she leapt into the air and turned a slow loop around the perimeter, her eyes scanning the ground. “But finding survivors wasn’t the point. It's to give us something to do. And what do you mean by that, a shadow?”

“Powers are just like anything else,” she said with a flip of her hair. “They leave their mark on our world and are reflected in the other. Your power, for instance, looks like white ripples. Not all of them, of course— some of the more subtle ones like Lucio’s are hard to see. But the physical ones, those definitely have an afterimage. Like the spot on your eye after a camera flash. Honestly, you’re usually best off looking for powers in the real world; they’re easier to spot there.”

“Then why did you have to check?” I asked, continuing to walk. “If I could have just seen it myself?”

“Illusionary powers and the like,” she said. “I might not be able to tell what they are, but I would perceive the scintillation. And— oh, that’s bad.” She stopped, looking towards a shed near the edge of the clearing. Where there had been a thatched roof, now only a few strands of brown grass remained, and the door lay flat in the mud, cracked in half from the impact. But Lola was staring at the inside of the shed, where barren shelves lined the walls, accompanied by just a few packages split open on the ground, one of them a gasoline can still surrounded by a wet patch of earth.

“What’s wrong?” I asked, stepping closer to the shed.

“I think I understand what happened here,” she said, and looked back to where we had come from the woods, then the fountain, her eyes tracing a path through the village. “Lacit would have noticed the docks, just like us. Then he would have ventured inland, searching for the village. Like us, he probably wanted to restock on supplies. Unlike us, he probably did not conceal his powers— rather, he flaunted them. Maybe even threatened them.” She pointed towards the entrance of the woods, where I now saw several darts sticking out from tree trunks. “And in retaliation, they attacked. Probably killed his one entourage before they could react. Notice the radial spread of powers out from that point— they acted with full force, not just for the supplies but now for revenge. And once that was accomplished, they emptied the stockpile, taking gasoline, food, water, and all other supplies deemed necessary.”

“Except that doesn’t quite make sense,” I interrupted, looking back to the lone empty gasoline can. “Lacit used a Special-powered boat, remember? He had no use for gas.”

“The Litious may have lived simply, but they still had access to technology,” interrupted Zeke from behind us, making me jump. “They simply chose not to use it. They considered it a distraction to their studies— you see, they thought that history held the greatest knowledge, and the best way to venture into history was to live like it. But they kept some items in case of emergency.”

He led us around to the back of the shed, and my chest fell as I saw several thick tire tracks dug the mud, dirt slung against the shed wall from acceleration.

“The original plan was to load these onto our boat as well,” said Zeke. “Then bring them upriver for when we departed into the jungle. With all terrain vehicles, we would be able to not only carry much more but to move far quicker than on foot. With the amount of terrain we have to cover, what would have take hours will now take days.”

“And since Lacit has them,” I added, still looking to the tracks. “He’ll only be that much faster.”

“Right,” said Zeke. “The Litious owed me a favor, and for that we would have been able to borrow these. I did not plan to be without them.”

“Bet you’re wishing you had a plan B right about now,” said Lucio from his place beside Zeke, and the older man scowled.

“As a matter of fact, we do,” replied Zeke, looking back towards the boat. “Though it’s far less reliable. And we need to move if we want to catch up to their progress.”

“First, what favor did you do for the Litious?” I asked. “Did this have something to do with what Freja said to you?”

“The Litious spent their lives searching for the secrets of the past in history,” said Zeke, already walking back into the woods. “I helped them realize that the past always bleeds into the present. Always.”

Chapter 65

We spent that night moored at the docks, the boat alternating from pulling the ropes taut against the cleats and bumping into the soft rotting wood. Seconds after stepping back on the boat, Zeke locked the supply cabinets, tucking the key into his pocket.

“Hey, what’re you doing?” asked Lucio, following Zeke to the table where he dropped a protein bar for each of us. “I’m hungry from all that walking, and it’s dinner time. Wait, our water’s in there too!”

“We expected more supplies and found none. That means we ration,” answered Zeke. “If you want water, use the pump purifier.”

“Borderline child abuse,” complained Lucio, ripping into the wrapper with his teeth and finishing his bar in two bites. “Even Regulars don’t have to work for water.”

“No such thing as a free lunch,” answered Zeke, and Lucio’s eyes narrowed before responding.

“But there might just be such thing as a free dinner.”

Zeke paused then looked down at his hand where he still held a remaining power bar before handing it over to Lucio. Lola nudged Darian as Lucio reached for it, and Darian slapped his hand away.

“He’s already had one,” he said, exasperated. “You’re going to have to keep a close eye on this one when the food is short.”

“Maybe you should be watching her instead!” snapped Lucio, pointing at Lola. “Locks on cabinets won’t do anything to stop her from pinching!”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” said Lola, a hint of a smile playing across her face. “You never caught me doing anything. If I remember, you were the one splattered with blue paint.”

Lucio glared, and Lola slid him a quarter of her bar as a peace offering halfway through dinner, which significantly softened the lines on his face. As the sun set, Zeke pulled out a chair from a storage closet, unfolded it, and set it on the top deck along with a small closed wicker basket.

“Tonight’s watch is on me,” he said, his eyes darting down the docks back towards the village. “I need some time to think.”

“But—” I started, and he cut me down.

“Nonnegotiable. Enjoy it while it lasts, kid.” He settled into the chair, crossing his arms over his bare chest. “Tomorrow is going to be a long day, and I don’t want to deal with you all half asleep. Take advantage of the rest.”

I left him, and the top deck remained deserted after Zeke barked at Lucio to wrap up filming for the night. Soon we were huddled in the cabin, left with nothing but darkness and whispers.

“Think he’s cracked?” asked Lucio, the first to break the silence.

“I think when an entire village you knew is burned to the ground, you might want some alone time, eh?” commented Slugger, rolling over in his sleeping bag. “Give the man some peace. He has friends to mourn.”

“Do you think he actually has a plan, then?” asked Arial. “What do we do if he doesn’t? Starve out here?”

“We take the river back,” said Lola. “Even without gas, we’ll drift back to the city eventually. With the rate the water is going, maybe five days’ time, assuming no major storms.”

“Right,” I said. “But our biggest concern is if we can still cut Lacit off. Seems like we’re only slowing down as he’s speeding up. Tomorrow, we need to figure out Zeke’s plan B.”

“But tonight,” Slugger interjected, wrapping up our conversation to repeat. “Let the man be.”

One by one, we drifted off, familiar enough by now with the motions of the boat that it rocked us to bed, and soon light snores filled the cabin. And after the moon had risen high in the sky, and midnight had come and gone, my consciousness slowly drifted back. Summoned by a sound I couldn’t identify, a clicking, almost like the spark plug of the engine firing.

I sat up slowly, cocking my head to one side, listening. Had it just been the crickets? But in a world of natural sounds, of chirps and hoots and howls, I heard it again. Metallic. Man made.

Creeping out of bed, I walked along the boards of the ship, careful to avoid any that creaked by casting a small force point ahead of me to depress the wood slowly. The sound grew louder as I exited the cabin then followed the noise, sneaking up the stairs of the main deck, holding my breath as I caught sight of Zeke.

He held something in his hands, something that darted in and out between his fingers, and as I strained my eyes, I could just barely make out the shapes of two long needles. A shadow of a thread wove between them, gradually adding to a small patch of fabric that had started to extend into his lap. And despite his bulging muscles, and missing finger, and numerous scars, Zeke continued to knit, glancing up occasionally in the direction of the village, the moonlight just bright enough I thought I could see the reflection of a trail of moisture on his cheek.

Let the man be, Slugger’s voice echoed in my mind as I stared, and I backed away, averting my eyes as if I had seen him naked. I tip-toed back down the stairs, heading back to my sleeping bag, when I froze, a chill racing over my body.

There, at the back end of the boat, just over the railing, two figures stood in the darkness. My breath caught in my throat before I could shout for help, my heart thudding in my chest. And just before I raised the alarm, one shifted, and I saw that they were looking out over the jungle. One had his arm around the other, and with another moment, I recognized them, their shapes familiar even through the shroud of night.

And even quieter than before, I returned to the cabin, then climbed into bed to be claimed by sleep, pretending not to notice the empty sleeping bags of Darian and Lola beside me.

Chapter 66

At dawn, the vibrations of the motor shook us awake, and I blinked while stumbling to the front of the boat. Ahead, mist lay heavy on the water while the breeze stripped away the dreams from my mind, and birds started to announce the coming sun from the branches passing on the left and right. I stared down the river, the haze cutting down on visibility after a hundred feet, peaceful ripples forming on the surface as fish hunted for insects skimming the glassy water, unaware of the danger that swam beneath. I continued to stare, my focus on the point where my vision cut off, wondering which way the river might turn. I started as I felt a hand on my back and turned to see Arial there in the morning light, her hair still tousled from sleep.

“What’re you thinking about?” she asked, pressing her shoulder against mine with a yawn, staring with me into nothingness.

“Not too sure,” I answered, unmoving. “No, that’s not right. I don’t know, I’m wondering if maybe we’re a bit over our heads. Or if we’re chasing after something that might not even exist — is there a point of stopping Lacit if he would have failed anyways? What exactly are we stopping him from?”

“Well, he’s on Siri’s side, right?” she asked, looking up at me. “That alone should be enough for you, shouldn’t it? And if you stop him from nothing, then we still win in the end, because he still loses.”

“Yeah, it should,” I answered after a moment’s pause. “I just wonder if maybe we would be better off somewhere else. Maybe there’s someone worse out there than Lacit. I told you he wanted me to join him, right? What if he isn’t the bad guy here?”

“SC.” She sighed, exasperated, and turned my head with her palm. “I don’t know how you can say that after seeing the village. I don’t care who started it— those people didn’t have a chance, and Lacit knew that. What do you think a person like that would do with more power? Our home would become just another village, with the people he didn’t like wiped out.”

She put her hands on my hips, her eyebrows scrunched together, and continued.

“We’re doing the best we can here with what we know. From that knowledge, we’re in the right. The police aren’t going to lock him up, SC— he is the police. And unless they have no other option, they’re too cowardly anyways. So it’s up to us, okay?”

“Okay,” I said, my heart starting to rise in my chest. “We’ll just keep moving against him. It’s all we can do.”

“Good,” she said, then leaned in, her lips brushing quickly against mine in a jolt that woke me more than her coffee. “Now you go see what that lunatic Zeke has planned with no sleep before he gets us killed, all right?”

“Deal,” I whispered, my heart thumping as she backtracked into the cabin, my fingertips trailing hers until they broke over the door frame. Then I sighed, turning away from the water, and left to find Zeke at the wheel. He stared at the same position I had been in the mist, his hands absentmindedly guiding the boat, and long bags claiming the area under his eyes.

“What’s the plan?” I asked as the dock behind us was claimed by the mist. At his feet was the basket from the night before, and the corner of a piece of fabric peeked out of it, streaked with gray along its edge.

“We need to travel far inland,” he said, dragging his gaze away to look at me, his eyes bloodshot, his foot knocking the fabric back into the basket and the lid on top of it. “Which means we need transportation. With more time, it would be good for you to learn to do this on your own.”

“To what, walk the jungle?”

“Yes,” he answered, and waited. “Though it would be slow.”

“If you’re asking if we should learn that now, that’s a firm no,” I answered. “Our priority is to outpace Lacit. You did say you could help us get to the destination first, correct?”

“Yes, I did,” he said, and a muscle in his right arm twitched. “And I will. There is another option, but not as safe as the first.”

“Not as safe as taking ATVs at breakneck speed through the jungle, you mean? I think we’ll survive.”

“Nowhere near as safe. But much quicker. More effective. And before we begin, I need your word— that you accept the danger. It looms heavier than before.”

“What exactly are we talking about here?”

Zeke started to speak, then paused, his lips pursed, before continuing.

“It is unconventional. When you see it, you decide, but I have warned you of the risk. Now steer— it’s time I slept. Wake me in four hours and be ready to depart. We will need to move quickly, for if this plan fails, I have no other.”

With that, he departed and left me alone with the mist.

***

“Zeke, there’s no trail— there’s not even a gap to walk. How do you expect us to get through that?” Arial asked, doubt thick in her voice after we disembarked.

We had pulled the boat into an overhang of vines, Zeke lashing it to a massive tree trunk before covering it with green tarp, while we gathered our supplies on the bank. As Zeke tightened the knots, we shouldered our packs then stared into the wall of thick vegetation. Only an hour earlier, it had rained, the drops coming down in torrents, and the leaves shimmered with moisture that gave them an even stronger perception of solidity.

“I’m the trail,” Zeke answered, passing through our group to push through a curtain of vines, flicking one aside that housed a particularly large spider guarding a drooping web and raised two legs in protest. “Remember, your feet step where my feet step.”

Then he turned to Lucio, his expression serious.

“And don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

Chapter 67

“This is insanity,” said Darian, a hand up to his forehead. “Absolute insanity.”

“A straight line drive if I’ve ever seen one,” added Slugger, spitting into the dirt. “Nothing going to stop that.”

We stood in a semicircle where we had intersected with a path. Or, more aptly described, a road of destruction.

For as far as we could see to the left and right, upturned dirt replaced trees as if a rototiller had chewed through the soil. And rather than be eliminated, the trees were deconstructed— great piles of leaves formed the sides of the path, followed by branches stacked in neat pyramids, then ramps of bare trunks. Strips of bark paved a sidewalk down the center of the dirt, and the muddied footprints over their tops were accompanied by the tracks of all-terrain vehicles to the left and right.

“It’s no mystery who did it,” I said, picking up a piece of bark and snapping it in half. “If it stands in the way of their goal, then what’s the point?”

“He seems good at making enemies,” growled Zeke, letting loose dirt trail between his fingers. “Especially here. We’re close now; keep following me. And let me talk— if they’ve already seen this, then they’ll be stirred up like vipers. No reason to poke the nest.”

“And who, exactly, would that be?” asked Lola with a squint. “I don’t remember hearing of anyone major this deep.”

“The Sanctuary, of course. You could say they like to blend in. You’re not the only one with secrets,” Zeke answered, though Lola’s eyes lit up at the mention of The Sanctuary. Then he dipped back into the trees before we could prepare a follow-up question, walking fast enough that we had to jog to catch up. After a mile, he slowed, and the forest began to thin, the trees becoming more regular and interspersed, the vegetation falling away to grass.

“Hey, apples!” exclaimed Lucio, standing on tiptoe to see a branch so laden with plump red fruit that it arched down towards him, as if offering a meal. He reached a hand upwards, and the fruit’s glossy skin seemed to glisten in the sunlight, making my mouth water— never before had I seen one so perfectly shaped, and now there were dozens within reach, promising an explosion of juicy flavor with each bite. His fingers grazed against one of the lower ones, and he grasped it, twisting if free just as Zeke knocked it away to bounce along the ground.

“Don’t pick them,” he hissed, kicking the fallen apple further away before Lucio could scramble to pick it up. “They’re poisonous. Just one bite and you’ll be dead within the hour.”

“And how would you know—” started Lucio, then he sighed. “Right, Survivalist. They look just like apples, though. Are you telling me that they’re not?”

“They’re apples, all right,” replied Zeke, weaving between the trees in what I could see was now forming a grid. “But they’re something else too. There will be plenty to eat soon; we just have to get through the outer layer. It’s a defense mechanism, and a damn good one.”

“Against what, hungry Lucios?” Slugger laughed, though he too looked longingly at the fruit.

“Try leading an army that’s been marching for days through the jungle into an orchard. First thing they’re going to do is steal the fruit. And an hour later, before the fighting begins, half the force is dying,” Zeke answered, snapping his fingers. “No one expects them to be poisonous.”

“And why would anyone want to get an army through here?”

“Because most wars are fought out of greed, fear, or a drive to righteousness. And all can be found here. Now those are edible. Just don’t touch the apples.”

Zeke pointed up ahead, and I saw a small bridge arch out of the jungle floor, leading over a stream that circled far into the distance. Small tributaries broke off from the source, distributing water down the rows of trees, each decorated with their own varieties of colorful fruit. The water was as clear as glass, and rainbow pebbles made up its bed, twisting and spiraling in patterns too complex for nature.

“That’s not right,” said Darian as we arrived, and Lucio had pulled down a plum, sinking his teeth into it with an eager bite. “That tree doesn’t just have plums. There’s lemons too. And hey, is that a tomato? Those don’t grow on trees; they take vines!”

“Good eye,” said Zeke, handing Darian a tomato, which he stared at dubiously. “But the trees here aren’t picky.”

Darian walked to the trunk, circling it once, trying to pick out points that it had been grafted together— but there were no telltale strands where it appeared to be split or combined. He squinted at the bark, pushing his fingers around a groove at the base, and spoke again.

“Look at this; they have names too. This one is Abigail. Strange name for a tree.”

“Right, doesn’t seem like a very ‘poplar’ one to me.” Lucio laughed and avoided the pit of a plum Slugger threw at him.

“That’s because,” came a voice from ahead as a man stepped out from the trunks, a cane tapping the dirt as he approached, “it’s not the name of the tree, but those who planted them. Zeke, it’s been some time. What brings you here? Are these fresh students for me?”

“Not of your normal variety, Taylor,” Zeke answered and embraced the man, clapping him on the back. “But they have plenty to learn. Today, though, we ask a favor— humbly, of course.”

“Well, of course, we can mix up our regular arrangement. Though only one minute in my land and you’re already asking my assistance; think of the manners you are teaching them. They’ll pick it up from you and it will mix right in,” Taylor said and stepped to where we could get a better view of him. And aside from Zeke, every one of us stared, words forgotten as we studied his appearance.

A beard covered his lower face, stretching down in a braid towards his abdomen— but it was of every natural color I had ever seen. From his chin, ginger hairs started, then his left cheek sprouted black, his right blond, and patches of gold, silver, and brunette fed into the braid before merging at the tip. His eyes seemed unable to decide their hue, shifting depending on the light— at one moment, they were green, then blue, and after that, they took on a hazelnut that disappeared as soon as it solidified.

As our sight traveled downwards, they quickly forgot the colors, and rapidly took in far more alarming features. Fur covered his hands, which gripped the walking stick, and rather than fingers, he possessed gnarled claws with nails as long as toothpicks. He wore no shoes, and the texture of his feet resembled that of a tortoise— leathery and sharp angled, tinted ash grey. But the strongest gasp came from Arial when he turned and spoke over his shoulder to us.

“First, refreshments. My treat, and I doubt you’ll find any like them unless you return here again.”

And there, escaping his shirt through two holes specially tailored into the fabric, two small feathered wings folded across his back, twitching slightly with each movement of his cane.

Chapter 68

“It’s not poison,” announced Taylor when Darian inspected the table of food. “I promise. Well, besides the apple, that is.”

Twelve bowls floated on the table before us, an elliptical wooden bowl that held a pond in its center, with rainbow fish that darted around the rim. Two stout trees grew just beyond each tip, with thick limbs that spiderwebbed across the floor to meet their sister, intertwining to form the curved benches upon which we sat. In the bowls, the food was near unrecognizable— there was fruit shaped like a long strawberry but sweeter than any I had ever tasted, followed by strips of what appeared to be plain chicken, but each bite exploded in a flavor of hidden sauces. Next there was bread— but the consistency was that of dough, and I could taste the air pockets hidden in each slice, leaving a salty sweet flavor that lingered just beyond my sensory grasp. For drink, Taylor served us pure water, but it seemed heavier somehow, thicker, so that only a single sip was necessary to quench the deepest thirst. And there were other, stranger options— oysters that seemed to grow steak within their shells, with pearls of bitter chocolate, and a variety of cheeses that I had yet to investigate.

In the center, floating on its own small plate but completely untouched, a lone apple stood guard over the remaining bowls. An ominous sign in the room Taylor had introduced as the introductory hall for new students.

“Why even put that on the table?” asked Darian, gesturing to it, though he tried one of the passing bowls.

“As a reminder,” Taylor answered, “that without protection, none of this would be possible.”

“And why, exactly, would you need protection if—” started Darian, but Lola put a hand on his shoulder and spoke over him.

“Because they’re Blenders, Darian, and proficient ones,” she said, then noticing his blank stare, continued, “Throughout history, they’ve been viewed as unnatural quite often. Some people aren’t as accepting of their possible looks as we are.”

“Ah, yes, in part that is true,” responded Taylor, flexing his claw. “But the look we choose for ourselves. More than a look, though, it’s a change of essence— and to live, one must adapt, one must change. This skill for survival seems to be what others fear most. But there are other reasons— powerful Blenders are high in demand. Of all the powers, Blenders are historically captured and enslaved the most often. And they’re used against their will for weapons, for trinkets, for plenty of options. Often stolen long before their prime. But here, here they learn and practice their art in peace.”

“And a booby trap of poison apples will keep intruders out, then?” said Lucio. “Doesn’t seem like a strong plan to me.”

“Ah, it isn’t, it isn’t,” said Taylor. “Should the armies come en masse, we would stand less chance of survival than a mouse in a hurricane. But this at least stops the rogue band who wanders by, looking to score an easy prize. To graduate their first year, all students here must plant their first blended tree as part of the defense, to understand a wall is needed between us and the outside world.”

“But really, what’s the worst weapon you could make?” asked Darian. “Doesn’t seem like Blenders are that dangerous to me. Poison apples are only dangerous if you eat them.”

“Ah, but that’s just the thing. Blender, really, is something of a misnomer. Rather, it should be Shaper— we see an essence, and we shape it how we see fit.”

“Oh no, now the pears taste like oranges. How will we survive?” drawled Lucio. “I don’t see what the big deal is.”

“I don’t think you understand, boy,” came the answer, the voice curt. “Like I said, we can change an essence. And from an essence, power is drawn. With a tap or two here, or a few tweaks from the masters, well, nothing is certain anymore.”

“Are you saying you can change powers?” Arial asked, leaning in as her eyes widened. “That they aren’t permanent?”

“Well, you didn’t hear it from me, young lady,” Taylor said with a wink. “But I could imagine that such a thought would be cause for panic, no?”

“Well, yeah, if you could flip an entire army’s power for one battle then back the next, absolutely. Even individually, the impact would be huge. I would know,” said Darian, looking down at his own hands.

“Well, let it be known, then, that changing back is not so easy. We do change essences, after all, and essences are not to be trifled with. The power shift itself is more of an aftereffect, or so say our studies. But if powers can be changed, rest assured it is only the strongest Blenders who could do such a thing. And even then, imperfectly.”

“Wait, does that mean that someone would still have a bit of their old power? That they would have two powers?” pressed Arial, and Darian scoffed.

“Two powers? Whoever heard of such a thing?” But then he paused and looked down at his hands again, his eyebrows knitting together in thought.

Taylor stared long at him, opened his mouth, closed it, then continued.

“To change who someone is, that can only be accomplished with great difficulty. All their lives, they have been themselves— to become another, things do not always fit so well afterwards. There can be some overlap.”

“So there can be two powers?” Darian demanded. “I mean, as a Mimic, I’ve held more than one at once. But never for long, and they were always weaker.”

“I’ve heard of similar powers that have been mixed,” I said, drawing on my memory from The Directory. “Though they always seemed similar. Something like a Silver Tongue and a Pied Piper can go together.”

“Well,” said Taylor and took a handful of food from one of the floating bowls. “Think of these containers as a person. Really, only one food type should fit in each. If it’s similar enough, it often goes unnoticed by the taster. Or different tasters may characterize the same food differently.” Then he pulled another bowl closer and deposited the handful inside. “Sometimes, there is a touch of other powers.”

He continued to drop food into the second bowl until water started to spill over the rim, and it tipped beneath the surface, the fish darting out from the corners to consume the food. “But more often than not, if such a rarity as power duality occurs, it’s the result of something deeper. And while the powers will not doom them, the schism deep within certainly already has.”

Chapter 69

“Taylor, your hospitality, it is too much for us,” said Zeke when the remainder of the floating bowls were depleted, and they bobbed on the water surface like empty boats. “And, it is with some regret that I inform you of the favor we require.”

“Ah, Zeke, no longer visiting just for fun, eh?” Taylor asked. “Stay for a while, let me blend something into you. I found a species of rodent that sleeps for over twenty hours a day— perhaps that could help you relax, eh?”

“Not now,” grumbled Zeke, casting a glance at us. “But no, Taylor— we need to move, and we need to move quick. The last time I was here, you mentioned a project you had been working on. Something that might help us to get deep into the forest quickly.”

“Oh, did I?” Taylor smiled and laughed, his wings fluttering along his back. “But it’s not mine to give. It belongs to a student of mine. It’s her graduating accomplishment. Her thesis. And truly remarkable, beautiful. You’ll have to ask her.”

Taylor led us outside and into a small courtyard, his cane grinding gravel, stopping to sniff at a bush of flowers just outside the door and laying a hand over them that gently changed their hue before continuing. With each step, the world around us changed, becoming more dreamlike— squirrels the size of small dogs rushed across our path, stopping to twitter angrily at us. Trees displayed bark of stone and leaves of glinting emerald, with razor sharp shards sticking out of the dirt like broken bottles. Ahead, twelve buildings emerged in a semicircle, each constructed from a separate material — one entirely glass, another steel, and another wood. And in front of each was a path made from the same material, stepping stones that converged in the center to a massive plate, consisting of a swirl of all twelve until they became indistinguishable at the center.

With a grunt, Taylor walked across the plate, then brought his cane crashing down on one of the stones in front of him, rapping on it three times, the hollow sound cutting through the air.

“Is that— is that bone?” Arial asked, as Taylor rapped again on the specific path, and the corresponding white door to the house opened as another figure stepped out.

“Best bone you’ll ever find,” answered Taylor, pointing to the house. “See those shingles? Modeled after stegosaurus plates. The door handle from rhinoceros knuckles. The hinges straight from orangutan joints, the cabinets lion jaws. Of course, none of it is harvested— each of my students must build their home from the eleven other basic materials, and blend them into their own. They must create where there is not.”

“Ah, just perfect to know that there isn’t a smattering of forest animals missing appendages,” said Slugger. “Though whether that makes it more creepy or less creepy, I’m not sure.”

“Creepy? It’s biology, son,” said Taylor. “Only through understanding the scaffolding of life can you begin to change it. And here is my student, the one whose help you seek.”

“Ennia,” she said, approaching, careful to walk only on the bone aspects of the spiral plate. She wore a white robe that Slugger stared at suspiciously, and she bowed not to us but to Taylor alone. When she rose, her eyes met ours— eyes that were the lightest I had ever seen, with just the barest tint of blue, the color almost imperceptible. And when she threw back her hood, her hair was so blonde it matched the stones under her feet, and her skin lacked any pigmentation. She kept to the shadow as she waited, bending her arm to avoid any light, her lips pursed, her body still.

“Sixteen years old and already ready to graduate,” beamed Taylor, his voice filled with pride. “My youngest in years.”

“Sixteen!” said Lucio. “I thought you were thirt— Ow!”

Arial’s elbow cut off his sentence, and she smiled to Ennia, bowing to her and extending a hand.

“Forgive him, or maybe you should give him a new tongue,” she said with a smile, and Ennia took her hand, staring at it a moment before shaking it, her eyebrows raising.

“It is difficult to change that which does not wish to change itself,” she answered. “Perhaps the desire is needed in him first.”

“That is the first rule to blending,” instructed Taylor, raising his clawed finger. “To change, the target must first be convinced, the will must come from within it. Now, Ennia— our guests came to see your creations. With your permission— may we?”

“Of course, teacher,” Ennia answered and bowed again. “For though they were created with my hand, was I not created by yours?”

“First rule, first rule— your change came from within. Now, if you will follow me.”

Taylor led us beyond the houses, each with their own signs of life from within, from dark shapes moving through the windows to soft music playing from one constructed entirely of crystal. Ennia stuck to the bone path as long as she could before following us, putting her at the end of the group, then stepped onto the dirt— and beneath the soles of her bare feet, the soil turned white with each footprint. As her foot released contact, the soil changed back, with only the bone powder whisked away by the wind to attest it had ever changed. Arial fell back to join her as we continued to weave through the compound, asking Ennia questions about where she had lived before she started studying. But soon a stable loomed before us, and Taylor opened the door, entering and gesturing for the rest of us to follow.

“Why don’t you like it?” I heard Ennia ask Arial, just before we entered the low building.

“Like what?” said Arial. “Your home? It’s wonderful here. I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“No. Your hand, the one I shook. As a Blender, I can feel when things want to be something else. It makes them easier to change. Your hand, it wanted to change. But I don’t see why,” Ennia answered, tilting her head. “And you, does that mean you want to change? Is there something you would rather be?”

Arial started to answer, then the words caught in her throat, and she entered the stable, leaving the question lingering outside the door. And with a curious expression, Ennia followed, staring down at her own pale hands.

Chapter 70

“Remember, they’re wild,” said Taylor, turning back to look at us and lowering his hand in a calming manner. “Stay gentle, don’t provoke—”

Then a rumbling cut off his voice, one that exploded into a roar that hit me in the chest like a physical blow. Lucio leapt backwards from peering inside the edge of one of the stables, careening into me and knocking us to the floor, where we skidded over a layer of straw. My ears rang as another wave of sound erupted, a chorus combined with the sensation of standing at the center of an orchestra pit, the noise assaulting us from every side, buffeting us like waves in the shallows.

“Magnolia! Lilac! Amaryllis! Blossom! Hush!” shouted Ennia, her voice cracking like a whip, cutting off the roars instantly to reduce them to growls. “You there, on the floor— what were you doing trying to do, scare them?”

“Scare them? I just wanted to see them!” Lucio protested, his voice shaking. “And then they tried to eat me!”

“Eat you? They’re vegetarians!” Ennia shot back. “At most, it would have been in self defense.”

“And they sure as all hell would have won,” said Slugger, standing on crate where Lucio had been to look inside the stall, and releasing a slow whistle. “Get a load of this. Never see anything like it.”

“Hey! Get down from there,” demanded Ennia, then flicked the latch on one of the stalls and threw the door open. “They’re perfectly capable of walking out on their own.”

“That’s not what I was concerned about!” exclaimed Slugger, and he climbed up higher, holding his legs several feet above the floor. Ennia clicked her tongue, and I stood frozen as something moved from within, soft thuds sounding as it approached. The eyes appeared first— yellow and shining as if they produced their own light— shortly followed by two curved white teeth that overlaid a snarling lip. The beast sauntered with grace, confident as it purred, rubbing its orange and black stripes beneath Ennia’s left hand while glaring at us, the muscles rippling beneath the skin.

“This is Lilac,” announced Ennia, and the tiger closed its eyes as she rubbed the top of its head, nuzzling against her side as the last remnants of growls faded. “Lilac, these are friends.”

The tiger yawned, then shifted, rolling its shoulders as it stared at us. Arial gasped as light from the window struck its side, revealing where the stripes appeared to run perpendicular to their normal direction.

“Are those? Are those—” she started, leaning in to see closer, watching as a thin layer of skin slid over the tiger’s ribs. Then it fluttered, and Ennia slid her hand underneath the flap of skin, pulling it upwards in a display that made my draw drop. Taylor opened the door to outside, and Ennia slapped the tiger’s side, pointing into the sunlight.

“Go on, go play!” she shouted, and the cat bounded towards the door, gaining speed in two leaps before launching itself into the air. The flaps unfurled, stretching far across her body, catching her before she hit the ground so that all we could see was a shadow gliding across the grass.

“Wings,” breathed Arial, stepping outside and looking upwards to where the tiger circled dozens of feet above us, powerful muscles contracting to push it higher, the orange and black wings pumping it upwards. It roared, the sound like a fighter jet reaching sonic boom, and with two powerful downstrokes alighted at the top of a tree, perched among the branches and staring down at us, the wings wrapped tight around its body.

“It took months of development,” said Ennia as we stared upwards, our eyes nearly blinded by the sun. “Blending is not so easy for something like this. Making tiger cubs fly is simple, but full grown adults? Very difficult. The secret was in hollow bones, shed an incredible amount of weight, at the expense of becoming more fragile. Two hearts as well, and an enormous pair of lungs traded off for minimal stomach capacity. Plus a variety of other tweaks to make her perfect.”

“She’s incredible,” whispered Arial and held out her hand, clicking her tongue like Ennia. The tiger swooped downwards as she leapt into the air, the beast roaring again in surprise as Arial twirled around it, laughing as they climbed higher in a spiral. They spun, pulling a full rotation, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure who was chasing who until Arial landed by my side, her hair in complete disarray, her cheeks red with excitement, and the tiger thudded down just before her. Sniffing, it crept forwards as she offered her hand, letting Lilac squeeze between us to rub against our legs. She laughed, but I held my breath, my eyes on the fangs, and my hand gripping Arial’s perhaps a bit too tightly.

“Usually, she doesn’t warm to strangers that quickly,” commented Ennia, looking over Arial. “But no one has ever walked the skies with her either.”

“And how many of these are there?” I asked, looking back towards the stable.

“Five, one full litter,” she said. “Lilac was the runt, which turns out was better for learning to fly. She’s the most skilled of all of them.”

“And we’re supposed to ride them, then?” asked Lucio. “I thought you said they were wild?”

“Ride them?” exclaimed Ennia, whipping around to stare wide-eyed at Taylor and Zeke. “Ride them? These aren’t mounts! They’re art, creations! You absolutely will not be riding them!”

“While I would typically agree with you,” interjected Zeke, placing a hand on Taylor’s shoulder while addressing Ennia directly, “we’re in desperate times. I’ll show you why, then you can decide.”

Chapter 71

“It’s not what they were made for, it’s not their purpose. They’re supposed to be free,” Ennia said as we were gathered in the room with the floating bowls once more. She frowned and slid a cashew across the rim of the table as a small rodent jumped from her sleeve, spreading its arms wide to glide through the air and latch on to the edge, then consume the cashew in a series of quick nibbles.

We’d just returned from the path Lacit had rent through the forest, and Ennia’s closed fists had trembled as she looked over the destruction.

“This is what we want to stop,” I had said, gesturing down to where a parrot lay dead in the earth, crushed by a falling tree. “And if we don’t stop it now, it will only get much worse. But we need your help, Ennia— we don’t have the speed to reach them. We’re far outpaced.”

Her rodent had screeched from her shoulder as she shook her head, studying the wreckage. She reached down, taking hold of the parrot, closing her eyes for a moment as it turned white, and set it upon a nearby stump.

“So that you may be remembered,” she had said, then she walked back in silence, leaving permanent bone footsteps behind her this time. And now, Taylor spoke up from the end of the table, his eyes upon his student.

“The choice is yours, Ennia,” he said, trailing his fingers in the water, the fish darting to the surface to nip at them. Tiny legs sprang from their bodies, as if they were preparing to venture onto land but had not yet gained the courage. “But rest assured, they will not be bridled nor will they be saddled. At night, they shall be allowed to roam free. Should they choose to leave, they will not be stopped. Only of their own volition will they stay with the party.”

“But what if they leave us in the middle of the jungle?” Lucio protested. “What then?”

“Then you walk,” said Taylor. “So I advise you to carry plenty of carrots.”

“And if a single one comes back with a scratch, I’ll calcify you on the spot,” spat Ennia, and her rodent held up a brown furry fist, chittering at us to illustrate her point before rushing back up her sleeve in search of cashews.

“So it’s a yes, then?” I asked, tentatively, afraid she might change her mind.

“It’s a yes.” She sighed. “But only because of what they did, and never again.”

“If it helps, we truly do think your creations are amazing,” said Arial from beside me. “We’ll be careful. We understand their lives are precious to you. A lot of work went into them.”

“It’s not about the work,” answered Ennia. “But I said yes, so don’t talk me out of it now. I’m already feeling remorse. We’ll have to make sure they take to you— they’ve been riding before, I’ve taken them out, but never with a goal in mind. Tomorrow, at dawn— I want to make sure they’re ready.”

She stood to leave and her rodent tumbled out of her sleeve, falling towards the concrete before it could stop itself with a squeak. But just before it hit the ground, it slowed suddenly, almost hovering in the air before touching down and scampering back up Ennia’s leg to hide in the folds of her clothes. Without another word she left, and I blinked, staring at the spot where it should have hit the concrete hard enough to break its legs.

“That was nice of you,” said Arial after Taylor offered to take the rest of the group on a tour. “Stopping it before it could hit. You probably won some affection right there, and we’ll need it if tomorrow has a rocky start.”

“I didn’t do anything,” I said slowly, chewing on the side of my cheek. “Strange, you saw it too?”

“It definitely floated,” she answered, her eyebrows scrunching together. “Maybe Darian?”

“Must have been. I’ll ask later, otherwise— think there’s something else Zeke isn’t telling us? Those two were Blenders, and he’s a Survivalist, so none of them should have been able to do it.”

“They shouldn’t have,” she said, staring over to Taylor. “But you heard what he said. Do you think it’s real? That they can meddle with powers?”

“It’s absolutely real,” said Lola from behind us, making me jump. “And it’s a bad idea. That’s the reason why they’re secluded here. You know what happens to most people who attempt it? They go crazy, absolutely insane. Blenders have a bad name for that reason— there are things that shouldn’t be changed or meddled with.”

“And there are conversations that shouldn’t be eavesdropped,” stated Arial with a huff.

“Regardless, don’t go having any ideas,” Lola continued. “Blenders get their powers from genetically diverse environments. They’re essentially evolution incredibly sped up, without the checks and balances of millions of years to eliminate faulty creations. And the mutations, when something goes wrong, aren’t pretty. I wouldn’t wish it upon anyone.”

“Anyways, who do you think made the rat float?” I asked, returning to the original question.

“I didn’t see anything,” said Lola, her face dark, turning to leave. “But if you’re right, and those two have been altering powers, there will surely be a price. Nothing’s free, nothing at all. And to alter a power is to alter one’s very spirit of existence.”

Chapter 72

“Here, carrots are the path to both their hearts,” said Ennia to Lucio, handing him one as the tiger’s lip curled in front of him. It was the third time he had tried mounting the beast, and the second time he had nearly lost his hand to the snapping jaws. Experimentally, he waved the orange stick in front of the beast, its eyes sliding left and right with acute attention.

“I still can’t believe you made them vegetarians,” he said, holding out a shaking hand as the tiger took a tentative bite, its eyes darting suspiciously as he tried to sidestep around it.

“That was actually the hardest part. Much harder than flying,” she said, handing him another carrot.

“And was there a point to it at all? Or did you just do it to keep the farmers’ markets in business?”

“Last ones tried to eat Ralphie,” she answered as the rodent came scampering out of her sleeve. “Plus, it’s much easier to feed your thesis project when they eat oats, not animals. Reconstruction on Lilac took four months of immobility. But we’re happy now, aren’t we, Lilac?” She bent down to kiss the tiger on the nose, and it responded by rolling onto its back, pawing up into the air as she rubbed its side. Slowly, Lucio reached down to pet it and stopped, terror flashing across his face.

“What— what else did you do to them?” he stammered, backing away. “It understood your words, didn’t it? It understood my words!” He stared into the tiger’s eyes, then flinched, looking towards Taylor in a sudden panic. “What the Hell, I can feel its mind! It’s an animal. I shouldn’t be able to do that. It shouldn’t be nearly on the same wave as us. What— what other experiments are you working besides flight?”

“It’s perfectly natural,” said Ennia, standing up. “All of this is. It’s the natural order of things, just moving faster. Now relax, and we’ll finish getting you acquainted. Then you need to go before I change my mind. Or they do.”

Lucio hesitated then slowly approached the tiger, which leapt back onto its feet. But immediately, its expression softened, and it purred, rolling under his hand just like it had for Ennia. Moving slowly, he swept his left leg over its back, his knees on its ribs while it knelt for him, his hand grasping the shoulder blades, bunches of fur poking out through his knuckles. And he nodded to me, his face still slightly white.

“We’re ready, then?” I asked to the group. Each of us had our own tiger, except for Arial, who floated alongside us, and Darian, who shared one with Lola but had borrowed Slugger’s power to make her light. Underneath me, the tiger stirred, and I felt its muscles hardening under my thighs, stretching the leather straps that held my pack in place taut. And around the group, each of them nodded, while Lola marched her tiger to the front.

“Then let’s get moving,” I said. “We’ve got plenty of ground to cover. Lola, you lead. Zeke— I imagine your danger senses are on fire right now, but let us know if you sense something new.”

“Just how I like ‘em,” he answered, resting a palm on his tiger’s head.

“Now,” I said, looking towards Ennia. “How exactly do we take off?”

“You just ask,” she said with a grimace. “They’re more than capable.”

“Fine,” I answered, drawing in a deep breath, then feeling ridiculous as I shouted to the oversized cats, “Then up on three. Ready? One, two, three, up!”

The ground lurched as my tiger leapt forward, powerful muscle propelling it in a bound that covered at least ten feet. My hands gripped deep into orange as it bounded forwards again, then a third time, our pack moving in a flash, then launched itself into the air. My stomach turned as the world below rapidly fell away, the upwards acceleration pushing me down, my legs clamped tight around the tiger’s torso. Its roar was joined on either side, the blast sending flocks of birds fleeing through the trees in spasms of color. Power surged through the wings as they beat air away, and we lifted upwards, clearing the tops of the trees with ease.

Darian whooped as his tiger resumed the lead, and we pulled a slow arc, circling around Ennia from high above. She waved, and Zeke extended a hand back towards her, almost in a salute. Then we were gone, leaving the Blenders far behind, gaining speed as the land raced away below us. Following the strip of broken trees that seemed to extend without end into the distance, as the tigers wove with a laughing Arial in the air.

And beside me, as we started our flight, Lucio began to shout.

“SC! They’re alive!” he yelled above the wind, pointing down towards his tiger and slapping her shoulder.

“Of course they’re alive! Look at them! They’re moving, aren’t they?” I laughed.

“No, I mean not animal alive, people alive!” he shouted back, and in front of him, Lola turned in her saddle.

“Do you really think that hollow bones would be enough to lift tigers and us into the air?” she said, her voice barely making it over the rushing air. “No, these have aid. Only humans can have powers, only humans have the aural capacity, the spirit. But when I go to the other side, I see their shadows too. Tiger shadows.”

And for a second, I remembered Ennia’s rodent, which had seemed to float in the air for a second. As if someone else had held it there. Or it had held itself there. Then Lola continued.

“Which is why you must be careful around a Blender. Because what they can blend in, they can also blend out. And that is the true reason why they are so feared.”

Chapter 73

We stopped for lunch at a stream far below, letting the tigers graze and gorge upon water while Zeke unpacked some of the supplies from Taylor and spread them across a thin sheet draped over a rock. Arial floated out to the center of the stream, carrying a water pump and filtering from where it was clearest, tossing the bottles into the water when they were full for me to drag back with force points. Concentrating, I pulled a tendril of water upwards with a force point, startling her when it wet the end of her ponytail, and she retaliated by throwing an empty bottle at me, which bounced off my head with a thunk.

“Now how come Taylor didn’t introduce us to these while we were visiting him?” said Lucio, picking up and demolishing the head of an enormous stick of broccoli with a single bite. “Tastes just like chocolate. Feels just like chocolate. But healthy!”

“I’m not sure how much science would back up that claim,” said Lola as Lucio chewed down through the stalk. “It’s not exactly natural. Besides, some of the weirder Blender foods can make you sick if they aren’t tested well.”

“Ennia says it perfectly fine and she knows more than you,” Lucio answered. “Either way, I’ll risk a few extra calories for chocolate veggies. Best day of the trip so far. New favorite food, fantastic shots of the forest from the air, and Lilac and me have really bonded. I usually hate cats!”

From the grazing area, Lilac raised her head, giving Lucio a long stare, curling her lip to display the curved white teeth.

“Just kidding! Way better than dogs, way better!” he said hurriedly, then whispered to us. “I don’t care how much Ennia thinks she’s made Lilac a vegetarian, that cat’s all about fish. After a few dozen memories of picking koi out of Taylor’s table with me, I think I’m her best friend.”

“You know, you could just try being nice to her the old-fashioned way,” said Lola, rolling her eyes, a move she had picked up from Darian after Lucio’s statements. “Make a real memory or two.”

“I’ll keep that in mind for friends who can’t bite my hands off. But for those who can, what’s wrong with a little accelerated development? Really, it’s no different from what Ennia is doing. Besides, who’s to say I haven’t done it to you too?”

“Who’s to say five of my people aren’t surrounding you right now?” Lola retorted, and Lucio stiffened, and her voice resumed a lighter pitch. “But relax, they aren’t. At least not five.”

We finished the portions that Zeke set out for us quickly, our stomachs neither full nor empty afterwards, and he rolled the sheet back up to put in his pack.

“Best part about Blender food is you’ll never catch someone with scurvy,” he said, leaning back against the rock and closing his eyes, letting the reflection of the sun play across his face from the water. “Made them damn useful on ships back in the day; makes them damn useful now so I don’t have to carry any of you.”

“We’ve been holding up,” I answered, sitting down to observe the scenery. A hundred feet in front of us, mist welled up from the stream from where a small waterfall tumbled down, and Darian was hopping rock to rock with Lola to investigate. Far enough away that I could barely hear their words, but close enough to hear their laughter as they splashed each other, Lola dodging by jumping to the other side and Darian by using Arial’s flight. Around the clearing, the trees pressed in thick, obscuring sunlight mere feet beyond their ranks, moss clinging to their fronts like clothing. Lucio was now wading into the water with Lilac, pointing out the flashing shapes of minnows in the shallows, prodding the uncertain tiger catch her first real fish. Behind him, Slugger touched boulders embedded in the stream bed, absorbing enough of their mass until they popped out of the muck, started to float, and chased Lucio upstream.

I smiled on the bank, forgetting for a moment just why we were here, feeling Arial sit down behind me and lean against my own back.

“Seems like this is how it always should be,” I said, tracing a force point along the surface of the water, watching ripples spring up below where the invisible object glided. I contracted it suddenly, puffing water up as steam underneath, ascending in a ring until the wind broke it apart. I’d noticed the effect the other day from the side of the ship, but the trick was difficult at any distance— for it to work, the force point had to be just above the surface of the water. I swept it across the surface, trying to form a line of steam, but the water quickly gurgled and sputtered instead of misting upwards.

“That’s what we’re fighting for, isn’t it?” Arial answered, her hand grazing my forearm. “If every day were like this, with the world as it is, it would just be a lie. A loan of happiness from the future. The interest on that would be nasty.”

“It would.” I sighed, trying to sweep my force point across the water again, achieving a thin trickle of smoke. “But when this is all over, we’ll have plenty of these days.”

“Every day,” she said, her voice betraying her smile as Darian and Lola returned, their hair and clothes soaked while their cheeks were bright red. Lucio had wrangled a fist-sized fish between his fingers and threw it upwards to Lilac, who stood on her two back legs to snap it out of the air, then spat it back into the water with a look of confusion. And Slugger was now making leaves so light that they floated upwards for several seconds before remembering their weight and falling down towards the earth. He spun once, surrounded by dozens of leaves moving like the gel in a lava lamp, and they rotated with him, a flurrying vortex of activity. Then he stopped, staring at the center of the twister, his head cocked to one side and expression perplexed.

“That time?” I asked Zeke as he stood.

“That time,” he answered, walking back over to his tiger. The rest of us joined him, mounting the beasts, our noses already in the sky. With a command, we launched upwards, and I watched as the trickling stream fell away all too fast and the laughter turned from reality to memory. Though as we soared upwards, it felt like we left something behind in that clearing. But usually when things are left behind, the pack feels lighter.

Chapter 74

There’s a serenity to flying. A peacefulness that, so far above the ground, the world enters into silence except for the whispering of wind and the beating of wings. A feeling of being beyond the reach of earth, of being separate, above order. A safety so palpable that, several times, I was lulled to sleep by the warm sun, the breeze keeping me cool, and trusting Arial from a dozen feet below to catch me if I fell. When I was awake, a sense of purpose strengthened my spirit as I stared into the distance for the landmark Lola suggested, a tree so tall it made the rest of the forest appear like its children.

I would wait from my lookout, watching for it to appear. Calm. Pensive.

And completely unprepared.

“Skyward, skyward!” Zeke screamed suddenly, his eyes wide and wild as the group turned in unison. “Move! Skyward!”

We noticed the first tree trunk that rocketed through space two seconds too late, just after it slammed into Lilac’s wing so hard that she erupted in a spray of crimson. The tiger yowled as she sailed downwards, and Lucio screamed as the force catapulted him off her back, spinning so fast he became a blur and his shout morphed into a ululating siren. He plummeted as another tree trunk soared through us, narrowly missing Darian and Lola as it nicked the wing tip of their tiger. The tiger spiraled but started to recover quickly, roaring as it saw its sister fall, fury rushing through its orange eyes. Darian leapt off to lighten the load, catching himself with the stolen power he still retained from Arial.

Below, Lucio continued to fall, his scream losing volume as his desperation increased. He flailed, his clothes flapping like a sail around him, one of his shoes already missing from the impact. With a snap, a dark orb flashed into my hand, as he was already too far for a force point, but he was still beyond my range of control. I could try throwing it at him, but it was far more likely to consume him than save him. Instead, I dug my heels into the side of my tiger, turning downwards just as Arial streaked past me, her hair streaming behind her like a dark cape as she accelerated.

I turned as I pursued her, scanning the jungle for the source of the projectiles, the sea of green revealing nothing until I saw a flash of sunlight. A reflection of a diamond arm as it sliced clean through bark and wood, felling the tree, as a second figure launched it with a flick of his hand. My pulse quickened as the dot rapidly grew, nearly filling my entire field of vision before I threw my hands up, screaming as I flung two black orbs towards it. With a clap, I brought my hands together, wrenching down on space before me, the world elongating around me as reality contorted, my vision stretching and compressing at the edges. Then I felt something pop, and there was only a square sheet of blackness in front of me, a plane of darkness with no tolerance for other matter.

The sheet obliterated the tree like a pencil sharpener, renting the wood apart as if it were already paper, and the field bucked out of my control, forcing me to release it as it exploded into the light of a small star. A wave of energy threw my tiger backwards, nearly tossing Zeke from where he had easily dodged the last projectiles, and I blinked the stars from my eyes as my tiger took control of the pursuit. Powdered wood rushed to permeate the air, filling my lungs with each breath, and I coughed over the taste of sap mixed with pulp. Next to me, I heard Slugger joining me in the fall, and as my vision cleared, Lacit took aim once more. This time, a hundred feet below us, where Arial clutched a panicked Lucio and struggled upwards, nearly still as they fought the pull of gravity.

“Slugger!” I shouted, extending a hand. “Make me lighter, now!”

Without hesitation, he reached over, and our fingertips brushed— but just our fingertips were enough. A dizzying sensation filled me, as if my insides were being poured out, and every cell of my being reduced to a fraction of their mass. I dove from my tiger, my hands outstretched towards Arial and Lucio, racing to close the gap as Lacit prepared to fire. The trunk was loaded like a bullet into the chamber, Blake cutting at just the right angle for the shot, and Lacit raised both hands, doubling his power in a shot far faster than the others.

A whoosh filled my ears as I generated a black orb, feeding it the powdered wood from the air to provide rapid growth, pushing all my power into enlarging it. My clothes smoldered as sunlight began to bend towards me, as if a giant magnifying glass were just overhead, streaming into the orb faster than I could control. And as the tree prepared for impact, I launched the orb, sunlight spiraling from around it like liquid fire as I refused to release it from under my control, my muscles clenched so tight, they threatened to split.

The orb and tree never collided, but I had never intended them to— instead, the darkness passed just above the trunk and I pivoted, swinging it in a circle just above Arial and Lucio, fighting the shape of the field as it urged to pull them inwards as well. Like a slingshot, the tree rocketed around the edge of the orb, pulling an impossibly tight orbit before its momentum carried it the way it had came, streaking as a missile back towards Lacit. Just before impact, Blake dived to the side, the acre of trees around the crater blowing backwards as they were uprooted, a cloud of smoke swirling upwards from the pulverized earth.

I released the orb, too large now for me to control, the ringing in my ears intensifying as it erupted, casting Lucio and Arial to the side like puppets. Then the shockwave reached me, knocking the breath away from me as it blew me upwards, my clothes acting like a parachute and my neck snapping backwards as it threw me into the sky. Still light from Slugger’s touch, I rode the wave, the tigers becoming mere dots below, my skin damp as I sailed through a cloud. And the world turned white while my consciousness turned dark.

Chapter 75

Darkness.

I am the darkness.

In front of me, I saw Peregrine encapsulated in ice, drifting far away. I saw Larissa’s arm obliterated by my doing. And I saw the orb I had thrown at Lacit pausing just in front of him, and I shuddered as I imagined it crashing through him in a tornado of powdered flesh and bone. Goosebumps rushed over me as I tried to flee, to leave the monstrosity of death I had created, to hide what I had become. To accept that I was a killer. That I had done it before, and I would do it again.

But then I saw Arial and Lucio clutching each other as they fell, and the trunk careening towards them again, but this time, I was too far away to touch it, too distant to affect it. Helpless as they collided, their life stripped away in an instant by Lacit, who laughed even as my orb consumed him. And they were gone, forever gone. Obliterated as one might eliminate a pest, without a care for who they were, for what they meant, for what they still might do. As if there were nothing but objects, without thought, without humanity.

Screaming, I fed Lacit to the orb, ripping him apart, destroying him with a simple flex of my power, my guilt forgotten. And as he disappeared, Lucio and Arial reformed, the trunk running in reverse away from them, their deaths undone.

A killer. I was a killer. Am a killer.

But I would kill for them.

I am the darkness.

I awoke as I glided back through the cloud, the moisture stealing my body heat away, shocking me back into reality with a shiver.

I had planned to catch hold of Arial in the lighter state Slugger had given me, then fly with her to safety. Instead, I now fell alone, my breath coming in quick gasps in the thin air. In a panic, I created an orb above me, trying to slow my descent, but the feeling was like trying to pull myself upwards with one hand with a rope held by the other, and the orb simply fell with me instead of negating my weight. And using a force point, the effect was the same— useless—except to pull a funnel of cloud behind me like a thread spooling down from the sky. A marker of my location as my mass returned, increasing my terminal velocity as it fought a winning battle against the air drag. I spread my arms and legs, trying to balance as wind ripped past, whistling through the holes that sunlight had burned clean through my shirt to blister the skin underneath.

In the distance, I caught sight of the dots that were the tigers just as Arial and Lucio merged back with the group. Throwing a black orb in the air, I let it explode, unspooling the light in a flash aimed at them, watching as Darian floated upwards to take Lucio and Arial turned, flying towards me at full speed as I fell. I prepared two more orbs while focusing on the crater far below, searching for movement as I fed them sunlight and hid them in the pocket above my wrist.

I pushed the thoughts of the approaching ground from my head as I saw Arial’s dive deepen, and instead working to intensify the force point above me. While it could not pull me upwards, it did pull the air, providing a slight lift to slow me down. Realistically, it contributed only a few miles per hour, but every second counted. Perhaps every millisecond.

I braced for impact as the tree branches reached up towards me, eager to impale me like spheres, just as Arial and I collided, her force carrying me more sideways than upwards. My descent slowed as she wrapped her arms around me, straining upwards with labored breath but still approaching the jungle far too quickly. We crashed through the canopy, twigs snapping and leaves showering down, then emerged upwards as my toes grazed the ground, scratches etched along our arms and faces from the escape.

Arial shook, though if it was for the effort or from the close call I could not tell, and we continued to climb, soaring just above the crater I had created. And at the edge, where roots snaked upwards and rocks scattered like birdseed, something moved. Something that glittered.

“Down!” I shouted, pointing, but Arial shook her head.

“I just saved you!” she answered, her eyebrows raised. “And you’re in no shape to fight.”

“Down!” I repeated and started squirming out of her grip, trying to drop on my own. “While they’re stunned!”

“Stop that; you’re way too high. Stop, I swear, or I’ll—”

She was cut off as I escaped and fell thirty feet before she caught me again. But this time, the momentum was enough to bring me to the ground, Arial pulling just hard enough that we landed at a speed slightly above a sprint. I turned, sprinting towards the crater, feeling anger well up deep inside me for the man who had not only tried to kill me, but all of my friends.

And when I prepared the two dark orbs I had stored above my wrists for battle, they were filled not only with sunlight and leaves and air, but also with rage.

Chapter 76

Tigers roared in the distance as the others approached, but I crashed forwards without waiting, ripping vines and saplings aside that blocked my way, hunting for movement on the edge of the crater among the green of ferns, the brown of bark, the blue of sky.

And seeing the glitter of a figure moving rapidly towards me.

I threw a dislodged orb from above my wrist, arcing it at Blake as he rushed forwards, slamming all my force behind it with a grunt. He leapt sideways, his fingers digging deep into the side of a tree as he scaled it easily, splintering the wood as it fell shredded to the earth. My second orb carved straight through the trunk, eliminating a full foot of tree, collapsing it in upon itself as it toppled. Like a cat, he jumped to the next tree, leering at me a he scrambled for a hold.

“Learned some new tricks?” he shouted, cackling, his eyes on fire and cheeks flushed. “You’ll need more than that! Can’t break diamond, but you, you’re soft.”

But I’d never released the orb that cut down the tree, and it boomeranged back towards him, pulling a wake of rotting leaves behind it. He twitched as he heard the rustling, then somersaulted towards the ground, barely dodging the orb as he tucked into a ball of diamond that dented the earth. He howled as the orb exploded, and I started preparing another, my throat tight as I expended the effort. Never before had I exerted so much of my power in such a short time span, and it felt thin, space itself resisting my call to fall in upon itself despite the amount of material available to feed it.

As he stood, he held one hand in front of him, his entire body still diamond, transparent to the core and casting rainbows about his feet. In full diamond, his expression was unreadable besides being hard, but I heard his joints grating as he quivered, staring at the side of his hand where a small half moon of diamond had been carved away.

“Impossible,” he managed to say, his voice sounding as if it were blowing through a canyon. “Nothing, nothing is harder than diamond.” His voice was stunned, but I heard something else there for the first time, something expressed by the fragility of the words. Of diamond turned to glass. Fear.

“You’ll pay!” he shouted and started to charge just as I brought the next orb to life. I waited for him to get closer, aiming right at his chest as he flexed ten razor sharp fingers. Ready to blast a hole straight through his heart.

Then green turned to red as a blast of fire illuminated the jungle from within the crater, and I ducked backwards, sheltering beyond the edge as a wall of fire rolled upwards, spilling over like a wave on a breaker. My already burned skin screamed as the fire turned to a vortex, falling into the orb as it was consumed it with a voracity. But a second bout of flames were following the first, and Blake still charged.

Throw the orb, and I’d lose my protection of the fire. Keep it, and Blake would slice clean through me with a single slash.

Instead, I generated a force point, yanking the tree that had fallen behind Blake forwards. When I could barely hear his breath, it crashed into him, lifting him off his feet and throwing him above me, sending him crashing like a bowling ball deep into the vegetation beyond with enough force to keep him bouncing a full ten seconds. More fire welled up again, close this time, and I whipped around to see Lacit’s fireball henchman advancing forwards, feeding more heat into my orb with each step.

And beside him, a tombstone-like mound of stone and earth shifted. I should have noticed it when I first arrived— it was too spherical, too smooth to be in nature. Too unblemished to be at the edge of the crater. A thin crack propagated down its center, just as I finished preparing a second orb, lashing out to send it rippling through the flame and into the center of the egg. But a hand exploded out, stopping the orb just before it reached the dirt, holding it captive as the rest of the debris fell away and Lacit emerged.

Despite my fury at seeing him alive, I smiled as I saw a trickle of blood from his left ear, and a dark spot starting to gather around his eye.

“You caught me by surprise, and for that, I applaud you,” he said as Sparky left the egg behind him, and I heard Blake finally come to a rolling stop in the distance. “Few can say the same. Even fewer who live. Now, no need to be up in arms. We’re all civilized people of power here, are we not?” With a glance, the fire stopped, and we stood in silence apart from Blake starting to make his way back to the crater, cursing as he bounded through trees.

“Don’t talk to me about civilized,” I answered, gritting my teeth. “And I should have ended you while I had the chance.”

He threw back his head and laughed, as the air around Sparky started to fizzle with small discharges. “Had the chance? You never had the chance. There are only two types of people that are headed to the grave.”

He held up his hand, flicking down his index and middle finger as he named them.

“One, those who stand in my way. And two, those not powerful enough to stand in my way.

“The weak, then? You’re killing all the weak? I heard what happened to your father, just like that?”

His face contorted, and the jungle shifted, the trees shivering and the leaves dancing.

“My father died because he could neither defend himself or me,” he hissed. “Why let others live the same pain? Why live in a world where the powerful live on the pain of the defenseless? There will always be the powerful, but why should there always be the weak?”

“You can’t just eliminate them. That’s, that’s insane,” I stuttered, my eyes widening as I stepped back.

“That’s where you’re wrong. I can. It’s natural selection, it’s our species moving forwards. Name a metric that doesn’t increase when its lowest performers are removed. It's impossible.”

Behind me, Blake grew louder. And behind Lacit, I heard the voices that could only be his reinforcements as he continued speaking.

“Which makes it a shame that we must remove some of the highest.”

He pointed, and the jungle moved inwards, the trees bending to point like spear tips towards me. Blake came so close behind me that I could make out each footstep. Fire started to well up again, and electricity crackled.

With a scream, I let the orb in front of Lacit explode, but it was already too late— Blake was upon me, the other powers had been unleashed, and his palm absorbed the energy hurled in his direction. But above, I heard a voice, Arial’s voice, shouting as she dive bombed me with another figure in her arms.

“There! Do it now!”

Then her body crashed into mine, joining me at the center of destruction.

And we entered a world of silence and darkness.

Chapter 77

I shivered, my sweat turning cold, a frigid breeze drifting across my face, my hands still held up in front of me in defense from the coming blows. The dark orbs I had created were gone, cut off from me as if by a surgeon’s scalpel— but so too was the vortex of flame, lightning, diamond, and telekinesis. Instead, it felt like there was nothing but space itself, until my pupils widened large enough for me to see my surroundings as my heart rate slowed.

Arial still held me in gliding flight, and we coasted to a stop, touching down as she dropped Lola as well. Around us were the rest of our group— a dazed Lucio, the others intact, and a missing tiger, all strangely quiet as if they were afraid to speak. And beyond, there was only wasteland.

Brown grass and thickets stretched in every direction, with sparse skeletons of long dead trees raising high above them, their branches upheld in a curse. Above, the sky was black— but it was a blackness that seemed to shine down on us, not stealing light away but actively suppressing it from a black sun, like a lid putting out a candle. Where there had been life in the jungle, where the parrots had flown from tree to tree, the bugs had swarmed, the monkeys chattered, and the snakes hissed, here there was nothing. Only stillness.

Lola raised a finger to her lips, speaking in a voice so quiet it was barely a whisper, but in contrast to the world sounded like a loudspeaker.

“As a last resort, we have escaped to the other side. Make no sound, speak no words. We must move with all haste. If you see anyone, anything, freeze. Now follow me.”

“You almost got yourself killed,” hissed Arial before she turned her back in a swish of curls.

For a moment, anger swept over me, the rage still hot in my blood from the fight. Right now, in the real world, Lacit and his crew had escaped— they would be free to hunt us down again. It was time to stop them, to protect the others. To eliminate the threat. As Zeke had said, prey need not fear hurting the predator.

But if I hunted them down now, which would I be?

I gritted my teeth as Lola swept forwards, realizing that without her, I would be unable to return whether or not I felt it was right. Her feet avoided anything that might rustle or snap, small clouds of dust raising with each footstep, the mud beneath cracked and flaking. And in resignation I followed, pushing my feelings away, then stopped, realizing that one of us was missing. And I turned to see Zeke sinking to the ground, his hands clasping over his knees, his eyes so wide they appeared eclipsed by white. He neither rocked nor spoke, but simply sat there frozen, the vein in his neck bulging, his stare focused on only one thing.

His missing finger.

A whine escaped his throat, high-pitched like a motor under too much stress, and Lola tensed, whirling around to dash over and clasp a hand over his throat. She looked left and right, her eyes scanning the horizon, and hissing at Darian.

“Stop it,” she commanded, taking Zeke’s shoulders and shaking them. “Stop it!”

She slapped him across the face, using the back of her hand to avoid a clap, but Zeke looked past her as if she were invisible.

“Not here,” he whispered between the wines. “Not here. Danger in the darkness.”

“Do something,” she said. “Or I’ll have to send him back.”

“I don’t know—” started Darian, but then he wheeled on Lucio, dragging him over by the arm. “Lucio, happy memories, just like we gave to SC when he was nutty. Calm him down or we’re in trouble. Movies.”

“Happy movies? The man likes danger; what exactly do you want me to do? Broadcast him tarantulas? Scorpion city? There’s barely any semblance of thought there already.”

“Something! Lucio, I know you’ve got the director skills. Put them to work. This film counts!”

“A show!” he whispered, the light returning to his eyes for the first time since he had been thrown off Lilac. “Yes, I can put on a show!”

He placed a hand on either side of Zeke’s head, just an inch from the surface, chewing the side of his lip as wrinkles appeared on his forehead. His eyes closed, and Zeke’s voice gradually started to recede, from a whine to a buzz, then a nearly inaudible rumble.

“Just walkin’ in the jungle, doing jungle-y things,” cooed Lucio, bobbing from side to side with each syllable. “Come on, up, just walkin’ through the jungle. Lola, can we fly? I’ve got him in the illusion, but I don’t know how long it will hold. Once it’s shattered, I’ve lost him, and without knowing him well, there’s a lot of guesswork in the genre.”

He nudged Zeke and the man stood, his eyes still closed, and Lucio guided him forwards. One slow step at a time he moved, Lucio adjusting the live stream of memories to help him avoid obstacles, like a puppet master pulling the strings.

“No flying; it’s too easy to be seen,” she said and turned to walk again. “And no more talking. If anyone were nearby, we surely would have been heard by now. We walk two hours this way, far enough to make sure he won’t catch us.”

“Unless Lacit has a Transient also in his employ, then he would just follow us here,” said Darian, speeding up to catch up to her and match her footsteps. “Then we’d be in even worse trouble.”

“I assure you, he doesn’t,” she answered, though she looked back to the space where we had arrived. “If any other Transients found out another was taking people to the other side, they’d be long dead by now.”

Chapter 78

In our own world, dusk approached. But here, the ground began to shimmer, giving off the same off-white color of the full moon, and the darkness in the sky above was replaced by a pervasive grey. The light illuminated thorny brambles fighting for purchase over the soil, and stone wove rivers through the earth, curving sections that raised like uneven platforms and wobbled unsteadily under footsteps. Each sound seemed to stretch forever across the barren landscape, the going felt exposed— shelter was rare, and the dark sun peered at us as an angry eye on the horizon.

Our progress was slow as we shivered, our clothes inadequate for the near freezing temperatures. Zeke was easily the bottleneck of the group, and every few minutes, Lucio stopped to rest, still dazed from the impact. Lola had checked his pupils and ran a hand over his head, announcing that he probably did not have a concussion, but heavily emphasized the word probably.

But even without the two of them, the rest of us struggled forwards— for Arial, the exertion of flying an entire day combined with saving multiple people from freefall. For me, pushing my powers farther than they had ever gone before, combined with the whiplash I felt from being launched into the sky. Then for Darian, Slugger, and Lola, a full day of riding left them just slightly better than the rest. Even the tigers appeared downtrodden, plodding forwards to follow where Arial led them onwards, and one growled at me when I approached to speak with her. Among them, Lilac was missing, having dropped from the sky like a helicopter seed, and their shoulders slumped in mourning.  Lucio in particular appeared downtrodden, and kept casting hopeful glances behind us for a flash of orange, though he knew the thought to be beyond optimistic.

“Lola? Lola, there, what’s that?” Darian said, his voice hushed, and nodding to a distant hilltop. I squinted, looking as what appeared to be a small tree swaying in the wind. But there was no wind, and on closer inspection, it was no tree.

“No, no, no,” Lola breathed, then turned to us as a chill shot through me. “Time to go. Arial, you and the tigers first, move slowly. Make sure you’re touching each of them. I’ve never moved this much mass; it’s going to be slow.”

She held out her hand to Arial, then pushed the small of her back as she turned transparent, fading from view like a ghost. Each of the cats around her slid into nothingness as well, and in a moment, they were gone. And since the ground was stone, not even footprints testified they had ever been there.

“Slugger, you next,” she said with a tap of her finger as he too disappeared. “And, SC, help hold Zeke up. This might meddle with Lucio’s power. Lucio, you ready?”

“Doing my best, giving our man here the time of his life,” said Lucio, his voice thin.

“Okay, on three. One, two, three!” she said, her voice strained as well, and the scene disappeared around us as if we were entering a blizzard, patches of our world intermingling with the other side. For a moment, we hung between them, nearly stuck before exiting, and a sharp cry left Zeke’s throat as Lucio lost his hold for an instant. Then the figure on the hilltop turned, and I heard a long, pure note before departure.

A horn.

Entering the jungle again was like leaving air-conditioning for a sauna, and we dropped several feet to the floor, Zeke still shaking and moaning, though his eyes were now focused. Arial already had the tigers prepared, but now we were short one and Darian’s tiger’s wing was damaged, meaning that we’d only be able to use them for slow and short flights. And Slugger held a long trunk in one hand like a bat, prepared to strike anything that was not our own but emerged from the other side.

One minute passed. Then two. Then three.

“Oi, so what do we do here if they don’t come back?” Slugger said, wiggling the bat above his shoulder. “We can’t exactly go in and retrieve them, can we?”

“We need to give them at least a few more minutes,” I answered. “Besides, where are we going to go?”

“So then we’ll be sitting ducks? At least charge up, SC. Don’t want to enter this battle with empty hands,” he answered.

“No reason it’ll be a battle,” Arial said. “Maybe the person we saw was friendly. We don’t have to make everything a battle; that’s how we got into this!”

“How we got into this?” I asked, turning to her. “What do you mean by that?”

“I mean that maybe if we flew away instead of engaging, we never would have gone to the other side, and would have gotten away before Lacit recovered!”

“Are you trying to say this is my fault, then?” I fumed, my mouth slightly open. “I wasn’t the one who started launching tree trunk missiles at us!”

“No, but you were the one who we had to save! After you jumped in to fight someone when you were clearly outmatched.”

“Because they tried to kill us!” I shouted, and she flinched back, as I immediately felt regret crawling under my skin. “Arial, I’m sorry, but this has to end. I don’t know how, and I don’t know if it’s right, but he tried to kill you. To kill Lucio. I can’t let that happen either.”

“Hey, uh, guys,” said Lucio, snapping us out of the argument. “Great points on both sides, really. But maybe we should wait for some privacy?”

“Privacy? Hah, we haven’t had that in months, when—” I started, but then the words caught in my mouth as I looked around the group. Darian and Lola had just arrived, dropping into the center of us. But around us there was a circle of spears and painted masks, closing in to prevent any escape, the last rays of sunlight reflecting off the chiseled stone points.

“Seems we have an audience,” Lucio said with nervous laughter. “They just popped through space as if they were always there around us. Hah, and you thought I was crazy! I told you so!”

Chapter 79

“Power down,” commanded Lola, looking to Slugger, who had already started a windup. “Don’t be fooled by the spears; they’re nearly all Specials. I’ve got this under control, for now.”

She spoke to the spear wielders in a language with long swishing words that sounded like little more than the rustling of leaves, in tones that raised and dropped like a summer breeze. In answer, one of them stepped forwards, their mask a construction of blue painted wood and feathers that extended high above, the azure accents carrying through to hair that fell well past the shoulders. Not an ounce of fat covered the sinewy arms that extended beneath a swooping shirt of dark animal skin, and more blue streaks streaked across the arms like their own plumage. When she spoke, her lips were visible just through the gap in the mask, her eyes obscured by polished sapphire-like stones, her voice matching Lola’s in language.

For a full minute, they conversed, the voices reaching a crescendo when the masked figure gestured at the tigers, then at Zeke, whose eyes were still far too wide, and released intermittent shrill cries. But Lola brushed them off, waving her hands in a way that declared them insignificant, and the crowd around us bristled, their leader hesitating. Then the leader beat the butt of her spear on the ground, and the others followed suit in a small thunderclap before herding us forwards through the trees.

“What’s going on?” I asked Lola as we moved, four of the armed people splitting off to scout ahead and two more dropping backwards to cover our flank. Lucio and Zeke were allowed to be mounted after Lola gestured at their heads, and the rest of our supplies were loaded onto one tiger that was separated from the rest of the group, but the rest of us broke into a quick jog.

“We have our own professional escort,” she said. “And we’re wanted for questioning.”

“Back at your home? Not sure how I’ll be able to answer anything in that language.”

“SC, there’s enough language diversity in this region to guarantee a few speakers of tongues are born every year, language will not be a problem. And yes, back at home. We’re only fifty miles out.”

“Fifty miles!” I exclaimed, as we started to trot. “They expect us to jog fifty miles?”

“No, they expect you to sprint fifty miles,” she answered, a small smile on her face. “Ready for some anaerobic respiration?”

“Slugger is the fastest among us and he’s already huffing,” I managed to say as we sped up, keeping my breathing in check. “There’s no way.”

“Just wait. There are powers here not so common in the city.” But anxiety crossed her face, and she looked towards Darian. “But I’m not so concerned with getting there. I’m more concerned about after we get there.”

“They’re— they’re not going to try to kill all of us, are they?”

“All of us? No. They only saw Darian and me on the other side. Spread the word to the others that under no circumstances are they to admit they were on the other side. But Darian and I, we’re already in jeopardy.”

“Don’t you have some pull with them? Can’t you do a, I don’t know, presidential pardon or something?”

“It doesn’t work like that. We’re all equal inside the tribe. But you’re not inside the tribe,” she started as we picked up pace again and talking became more difficult. Ahead, the leader released a whooping call that sounded more owl than human, and Lola translated.

“Line up! And prepare to sprint!”

“These legs were made for bases, not marathons,” gasped Slugger, pulling up behind me. “Lola, they’re not going to use the pointy bits to make us go faster, are they?”

“It’ll be more of a positive reinforcement,” she answered as the leader barked a command. “Now, go! Don’t hold back, keep up!”

The members ahead pulled forwards, and I willed my feet forwards, lengthening my stride and fighting to control my breathing. We whipped around a corner, then the line straightened again, just as my calves and lungs started to burn. I felt a cramp forming along my side, accompanied by dizziness from having spent so much of my power. Fifty miles. Lola had to be insane or we were traveling to a hidden airfield.

The leader barked, her voice indistinguishable from a snapping twig amplified a dozen times, and I heard a flurry of activity behind me. I chanced a look backwards to see Darian barely keeping up, with Slugger pressing close behind, then a masked person rocketing up alongside the line, their fingers brushing across each of the runner’s sides. Slugger whooped when they passed, throwing his chest back as he accelerated with a jolt, nearly running over Darian. Then the fingers reached my side, and I bucked as if an electrical current passed through me, adrenaline leaping into my bloodstream and energy crackling as the pain receded.

I spurted forwards, reaching top speed nearly immediately as the leader barked again and another runner shot forwards with fingers brushing against us, laughter escaping my throat as my nerve endings crackled, my vision sharpened, and all my desires other than running started to fade. When the third runner reached me, I was sprinting faster than I ever had in my life, and by the time the fourth arrived, my feet had become a blur, moving so fast that they caught me rather than propelled me forwards. By now, the first runner had arrived back at the end of the line, and the process repeated again, spurring us faster and faster, the trees flashing by at highway speeds.

With each touch, I broke a new barrier, I reached a new velocity, I pushed my body far beyond where it had ever been before. I was the running deer, the antelope, the falcon. Wild, free from thought, as captive as the rushing wind.

Chapter 80

In just over an hour, the runners decreased their frequency, tamping us down to human speeds. And in fifteen minutes, we slowed to a stop, our breathing heavy but feeling as if we had only started to warm up, more refreshed than when we had started. Ahead, a wall extended of brambles and vines woven between trees that towered thirty feet into the air then curved in on itself and out of sight.

A head poked out of the brambles high above, this one with no mask and yellow paint that meshed with her darker skin. The lead warrior gestured, shouting upwards and the girl unfurled a rope, rappelling down the side of the brambles, her feet catching the edges of tree branches interspersed to be nearly invisible among the mess. And before she arrived, the leader turned to Lola, speaking in the same swishing language.

“Whisska neossh fliskiss annndd prooove youu are who you say you are, we both know that appearances are deceiving.”

I blinked, looking towards the girl with the yellow paint, the air shimmering slightly around her with each syllable from the leader.

“Fine,” said Lola, annoyed and throwing her hair back. “But I’m just doing this for formalities. You can infer the answer sometimes, you know.”

When I listened close, her voice still retained the same swishing sounds as before, but now intelligible words poked through the syllables, semantics on a background of the incomprehensible. Speakers of Tongues, Lola had said— but this was the first I had ever seen, or rather, heard. The girl waved, and as her hand hit its peak, I heard a soft hello, as if it were spoken by her palm, and a don’t mind me when she looked to the ground as Lola continued.

But then Lola blinked out of sight, and the line of spears bristled, waiting as the leader raised her chin.

“Smart move,” said Lucio. “Just leave us to the forest barbarians, ditch out while she can. Probably going to be eaten alive by supper. Just look how skinny they are. Probably eating the bark off trees just to stay alive. Bet we taste way better than bark.”

The leader scowled, looking at Lucio, as Arial elbowed him in the ribs.

“They can understand you now,” she hissed as he turned bright red. “You didn’t think they were speaking English just for our benefit, did you?”

“Look, I didn’t realize the subtitles flashed on,” he said, then he looked at the leader. “You know what subtitles are? That one’s probably lost in translation.”

“Flashy letters,” the leader said after a cursory glance at the painted girl. “Flashy language letters.”

“Hey, that’s not bad,” he answered.

“Give this one a raise,” added Slugger, and the leader stared back at him, the mask blank.

“Raise?” she asked, but the painted girl shook her head, the words no idea sounding.

“Oi, so you know what subtitles are but not a raise? You know, money? Cash, green stuff, makes the world go round, exchanged for goods and or services?”

Their expressions remained unchanged, and he rolled his eyes.

“Subtitles,” he muttered, and shook his head.

Disbelief sounded, and he grunted.

Seconds later, Lola returned, holding something small in her palm, displaying an acorn to the group before digging a small hole inside the earth with her thumb. Then she planted it in the earth, speaking.

“From the heart of the village, to my heart, to yours. May the soil for trust be fertile, and may friendship grow tall between us.”

The leader walked forwards, and another of the guards walked between them, holding their hands above the acorn. It trembled, then cracked open, a sprout rising from the center, growing thicker by the second until its stem developed brown patches of bark, then widened. Branches shot off from the main, and from the branches, leaves rippled forwards, popping like tiny scales across the surface, flashing green then red then yellow as they fell in mock autumn, and new ones replaced them. And on the branches the size of toothpicks, tiny berries grew, that then showered to the ground, and the leader picked them up, crushing them in her hand and smearing the orange colored juice on Lola’s face.

“And may it live beyond our years,” she said, backing away from the miniature tree, as the remaining guards lowered a knee to the ground and faced Lola.

“Forgive us for the ritual,” said Lola to us as the leader reached a hand upwards to her face. “It’s protocol. My sister is one to do things by the books.”

“Your sister,” started Darian, then he coughed as the leader’s mask fell to the ground and the two girls embraced, their similarities suddenly apparent when their bodies were joined. The same hair tone, height, and body type aside from her sister’s lean muscle. And when they stood far enough apart to see them both, their faces were identical, differentiated only by strokes of orange and blue colored paint.

Part 3

Chapter 81

“You didn’t say you were a twin,” said Darian as we were paraded forwards towards the bramble wall, then cursed as a guard thwacked him across the shins with the shaft of his spear. Respect, quiet, said the crack as he cursed, and he glared at the Speaker of Tongues before Lola responded.

“I did say I had secrets, didn’t I? And Darian, please, don’t talk right now. We’re going to need to get this sorted out, but you’re a criminal here for going on the other side.” She looked at him, her eyes pleading, and biting her lip. “It’s all going to be okay, all right? Just don’t panic, trust me. I’m probably in just as much trouble as you are.”

I swallowed, goosebumps running up my arms despite the heat, looking to Darian than back to Lola. Usually, she would back up that statement with a fact or a statistic, some measurable quantity to put him at ease. But instead, she had asked for trust and calm emotions.

Which meant things were worse than I thought.

Two guards separated ahead of the group, stationing themselves to the left and right, followed by a third smaller guard that held the middle. With their hands pushing forwards, the wall slithered aside as vines and brambles parted in the form of a dark arch, shadows obscuring its exit. We entered, the light cut off behind us as the plants returned to their original position, traversing in a bubble of blackness as the vegetation ahead still parted for our passage.

Things rustled in the space around us, creatures that inhabited the insides of the wall, only their staring eyes visible in the dimness. Growls accompanied the rustles, growls too deep for what should fit in the tight nooks and crannies between stems. The tigers’ noses flared, and I heard their sharp breathing as they tasted the air, and one released a roar that made the entire group jump before being comforted by Lucio.

The darkness continued for a full ten seconds, the hair on my neck standing upwards as I felt my way forwards, the guards prodding us whenever we hesitated. Then light broke through the end of the tunnel, and we left the scents of musk and rotting fruit behind as we emerged, blinking, the fresh air like a breath above water. I heard Arial gasp as we entered what Lucio would dub “The Bubble” and Slugger “The Dugout.”

Above us, the wall refused to end, stretching overhead in a massive living dome. Slits ran the length of construction, long gashes in forestation that drove shafts of sunlight deep into the village below, moving like waves to distribute whirling patterns of gold. At the center, a massive tree extended upwards like a column holding the entire construction together, the trunk disappearing above the brambles before branches had time to split away.

Long beds of gardens ran the perimeter, with dozens of workers tending to them like ants, pulling ropes that dumped water from bucket shaped leaves in the dome like rain upon the crops. And inside the verdant circle the village began, the buildings consisting of trees twisted together to form orblike rooms high above the ground. Roped pathways traversed the branches, and spiraled staircase wound upwards around the trunks, though the occasional lift moved up and down with people or supplies. Large wooden platforms the size of football fields interconnected different trees, and I squinted to see that they were parks, supporting tables and gardens on levels stretching from just a few feet to a hundred feet up. And above that, a dozen variety of birds circled, the plumage on their tails alone longer than my body, dancing in and out of the light.

Messengers ran ahead of us, and I heard horns sounding, calling the workers in from the fields. Inside the city, the lifts worked at full capacity, and activity flurried as a procession moved forwards. Petals rained down from above, the spots of light widening as the irises opened, while a cool wind swept a carpet of red leaves in a path for us to follow, uniting us and the welcoming party with a long strand of crimson.

An old woman led the party, wisps of grey hair barely clinging to her, her arms so fragile they looked like they might shatter under the slightest impact. She wore a white robe, colored gold by a shaft of light that followed her like a spotlight as she moved. But it wasn’t her that caught my attention— rather, it was the mount she rode, that served to emphasize her diminutive size.

Its tusks were the size of small cars, sweeping from side to side as it walked, likely a precaution to ensure no illusory powers occupied its path. With each step, the earth trembled, though it walked with grace, and its trunk reached up be stroked by the hand of its rider.

“An elephant with fur; looks like your Blenders have been hard at work,” said Lucio. “That thing’s enormous.”

“No Blenders,” said Lola. “That’s a Mastodon.”

“Those are extinct,” added Arial. “How’d you bring one back?”

“While they might be extinct in the outer world, here there is an entire herd. Others hunted for them, yet we cultivated them. Helped them survive.”

“It’s been thousands of years! How, how old exactly is this place?”

“Almost as old as memory,” Lola said. “As far as we can tell, no other civilization has persisted longer than we have. Though we’re reclusive, we listen to the outside.  That’s why I was sent away, to listen.”

“Like you could hide an entire herd in this place,” scoffed Lucio, still looking at the mastodon. “You keep them up in the trees? Do they roost like the birdies?”

Lola game him a pointed look, raising her hand in the air to make it disappear.

“Oh, right,” he said with a gulp. “This just keeps getting weirder. You hiding other things squirreled away there too? Is a dinosaur about to jump us?”

“It’s not some sort of safety deposit box,” Lola said, but I felt her stiffen, her eyes darting towards the center of the city. And as the woman approached, and the cheers started erupting from the gathering crowd, and Lola walked forwards to bow her head in respect, I remembered something she had said to me before we left the city.

We guard that secret like one keeps a beast locked in a cage, lest it destroy the world itself.

Chapter 82

Atop the Mastodon, the woman raised both her hands, and a hushed silence fell over the gathered crowd. From the ground, twelve stalks sprang forth, twisting upwards with enormous lily pads at their peak, forming a staircase complete with a vine railing. The pads reached upwards to wrap around her feet, lowering her gently to each next step. When she reached the ground, slippers wove themselves out of grass to receive her, accompanied by a sapling curved into a cane, shucking its bark before leaning itself into her hand.

She tottered forwards, then let her gaze rest atop Lola, her eyes scanning her through the wrinkles and cataracts.

I could see Lola biting her lip, her eyes shutting under the stare, but the closing lids not strong enough to keep out the tears. She shook, and for a moment, she shimmered, as if she considered disappearing.

“She—” Lola started, her voice just above a whisper, but the breeze carried it for the entire crowd to hear. She swallowed, taking a deep breath before going rigid, and forcing her eyes open to stare at the woman. “She’s dead. My mother, she didn’t make it. She, she won’t be coming back.”

Silence descended upon us as the wind whisked the words away. And it was as if they were carried out of the bramble wall, outside of the blooming city, as the woman spoke.

“We know,” she croaked, both her hands on the cane as she leaned forwards, coughing before continuing. “A great loss her death was to us, though it was a risk for us to take, when we sent you to become our scholar of the outside world. But what greater joy it is to us that you are amongst us once again.”

Then the woman bent in a bow lower than Lola, and the crowd followed, the heads dipping in unison, some dropping to a knee. And she hobbled forwards to embrace her, with soft words that held an immediate effect with the crowd.

“Let us feast, and let us celebrate! To remember the dead, but rejoice in life. For my great-granddaughter has returned!”

***

“Quite the celebrity,” huffed Arial from our table, while Lucio loaded his plate with bread and fruit, casting a suspicious eye towards a bowl of apple slices. She looked up towards where Lola sat at the high table, flanked by her grandmother with her sister, and surrounded by others dressed far superior to the crowd below. Darian too stared, his head turned slightly to one side, his eyes tracking Lola as she moved— ever since we had arrived, there was a newfound grace to her step, an authority. Something that had always been there but had been far more subtle, hidden without subjects to support it.

The last hour had been a whirlwind of activity— Lola was first rushed away from us by a chattering entourage, and we’d been dragged to the barracks, where wash stations awaited for us. They’d hurried us through, blasting us with floral soap and other perfumes on our way out, hitting us with enough scents to be borderline insulting. After all, it had been several days since we’d had a real shower, and we had just run a few marathons.

Then we were sized and fitted— the garments plain but comfortable, the color a green so light that it was almost white. Soldiers whisked away our old clothes as they barely concealed wrinkled noses, and I suspect they burned or buried the rags. And after that, we were loaded into a lift the size of a small car, accompanied by a guard who pulled the lever to accelerate us into the sky so fast I feared the rope might break, and even after flying on tigers made my stomach lurch when I peered over the edge.

We moved at an angle, gliding towards the trunk of the mighty tree at the center of the village. Up and up we travelled, but the trunk refused to shrink, remaining just as thick despite the altitude. My ears popped as we neared the height of the bramble bubble, then moved into it, then through it. And as soon as we popped through the uppermost layer, the tree branches draped atop the bramble bubble, hiding it in a sheath of greenery. There the tree split open like an enormous Venus fly trap, the greenery creating a platform the size of a banquet hall, opening itself up to the sky. Then we were ushered atop the fronds, where dozens of tables set for a feast waited.

“And yet here we are, at the kid’s table,” Arial continued, then waved her hands to the six guards that still surrounded us. “With chaperones, of course. We’re mere commoners. Everyone is equal in the tribe really holds true, don’t you think?”

“But we’re eating better than any point this trip,” said Lucio through a mouthful. “None of this is blended either, so you know what you’re going to get. Chocolate broccoli is great, but who knows if you’ll get broccoli chocolate by surprise.”

“Aye, they feed us well for prisoners,” said Slugger. “But this deep in the forest, I doubt they see many. See how they stare at me? Bet I’m the first ginger they’ve laid eyes on.”

“Probably true. Setting the bar low, aren’t they?” said Lucio, placing the camera on the table. After a cursory glance by the guards as they checked for weapons in our bags, they’d let him keep it— besides keeping watch over us, there were few precautions that they had taken with our presence. Likely, they had no reason to— there were hundreds of them compared to the handful of us, and for all we knew, another dozen with spears leveled at our throats on the other side.

“He’s right,” I said to Arial as she continued to glare. “At least we’re not locked up right now.”

“And did you hear what she said to us before she left? Don’t cause a scene. As if we needed to be watched over. She really thinks she’s that much better than us.”

“Or because,” Darian spoke up. “She’s trying to get us out of the hole that we dug ourselves into when they caught me on the other side. Speaking of which,” he turned and focused on Zeke, who had yet to speak a word since we had entered the city, “what happened to you back there, tough guy?”

Zeke looked upwards, his eyes bloodshot, his hands still trembling.

“I told you this was too deep,” he whispered, his eyes darting from side to side. “Far too deep. Do you know how I lost this finger? How I lost part of myself?”

He held up the stump, waiting for us, but knowing that no one would answer.

“I lost it when I fell into that place last time. When I spent seven years there. Alone.”

Chapter 83

In one motion, the entire table leaned in, Darian checking to make sure we were out of earshot from the guards.

“One second,” he said, his face scrunching together. “This is a bit harder than it looks.”

“What is?” I asked as he focused.

“Well, I picked up that Speaker of Tongues power earlier. And it’s funky— it doesn’t just make people understand; at least it feels like it’s double-sided. Ah — there we go!” he said, and settled back down. “It works the other way too. Babel-style; now they won’t be able to understand us. No promises if the translator gets too close, though; she’s got more oomph than me.”

“Huh, so we’re back to normal, then?”

“Not quite. They’ll just hear a garbled version of their own language,” he said, taking a handful of edible seeds and throwing them up in the air to form a mess on the table. "Something like Pig Latin, or a word game."

“Which is all nice and interesting,” said Arial, then addressed Zeke once more, “But what exactly were you saying?”

“I spent years in that Hell,” he answered, jaw clenched. “Every minute in there, every second is danger. There is no rest. There are things in that darkness. Perversions.”

“Seemed pretty fine when Lola took us there,” said Darian, but Zeke shook his head.

“She knows the ways. But you ask her, ask her what she’s seen. What’s safe here is dangerous there. What’s light is dark. Palatable is poison.”

“And how the hell did you get there in the first place?” Lucio asked. “You got some transient powers you’re not telling us about?”

“How do you think she got her powers?” Zeke answered, jabbing a finger at Lola. “I fell in. There are openings between us and them, crashed right through one when I walked through a waterfall; lucky I didn’t lose more than my finger on the razor sharp edge separating the worlds. She must have been born near one. They’ll know where they are. They guard them. Seconds after I fell through, they were on me— spears, powers, all at the charge. They hunted me for years in there. But it’s difficult to capture someone who smells danger. It’s difficult to poison someone who tastes it before it’s in their mouth. By my power alone I survived- trusting it to push me away from starvation or thirst and even then just barely.  Dark secret, that place is. And secrets are valuable.”

“Did you go telling people then? " asked Arial. "If you escaped, and they don't know, you're probably safe now. If not, I suppose you could feel it."

“Most thought I was insane. All except a few. You see, even I thought I had gone crazy, that I had imagined it when I finally returned. Took weeks to return back to normalcy. But then I heard of a hermitage, of the Litious. Who already knew it existed. So I told them what I saw, and in return, earned their friendship and whatever more they discovered.”

“What exactly did you see?” I asked. “This danger you’re talking about, what is it?”

“Them, for starters,” said Zeke. “Not much alive besides them. But more than that— there are places, entire stretches of land there they smell of death. Where the flowers grow here, the hemlock grows there. That place isn’t just a different world— it’s the opposite of our own.  It left a lasting impact on my soul, a scream of danger so loud that coming back here I can’t live without a touch of it, that I feel unbalanced when I’m safe.  We’re not meant to survive there.”

“Not. Quite,” came a voice behind us, and we jumped, Lucio launching his plate like a frisbee at the sudden appearance of Lola. Darian snagged it from the air just before it collided with her mouth, and she scowled at Lucio.  After a moment of thought, she waved down a nearby guard who was advancing on him, then continued.

“The other side is more than a mirror, more than an opposite. It’s true, what you said— that there are many opposite effects. But really, our world and the other side are one and the same — a duality. Think of it this way— if you have a rope, for there to be tension, a person must tug at each end. Our world is one end, the other side is the other, and when either one falters, it slides. They’re constantly fighting each other— where we are hot, they are cold to maintain the balance. Mathematically, it’s a certain flux that passes between the two, that exists in the region between the two worlds that is unreachable. In the rope.”

“I told you there could be more sides!” said Arial, but Lola put up a hand.

“It’s more than that,” she said. “A side doesn’t describe it. It’s something else entirely. You see, it’s the seed of our worlds.”

“You don’t have to speak in riddles,” said Lucio, rolling his eyes. “What the heck is that supposed to mean?”

“It means, anything that is created comes from there, travels down the rope, and emerges in one of the worlds,” lectured Lola.  “It’s where essences originate.”

“Hold on there,” said Slugger. “Now just hold on. Anything that is created?”

“Anything,” said Lola, her eyes sparkling. “Surely you see the implications, no?”

“So by that, you mean us?” he asked, staring around. “All of us? People?”

“When they are born, yes,” she answered.

“And when they travel between the worlds, this flux you talked about, does it change them at all?” asked Slugger, still probing. “Does it— are you describing what I think you are?”

“I am,” she answered, laying a hand flat on the table. “And it does. From what we know, that’s the origination point of powers — the tension flowing between the worlds. And if you can alter that tension, if you understand it — well, abnormalities start to occur. And that,” she concluded as she smiled and waved her grandmother over from the main table. “Is just one of the reasons why Lacit would be interested in coming here. Now, as I said earlier, behave. My people are wary of you, but since you come bearing information, I’m hoping they will take the sentence lightly.”

“Sentence?” asked Lucio. “I thought we were already prisoners.”

“Oh, you are. But Darian is also a criminal, for being on the other side. And I’ve almost convinced them not to kill him.”

Chapter 84

“They wouldn’t—” started Darian, nervously looking over his shoulder as Lola cut him off.

“Oh yes they would,” she said. “I’ve told you, the other side is sacred. Only those who can travel there by their own means are permitted, or those deemed blessed by the tribe. The Painted, for instance, are permitted in certain circumstances only.”

“Painted? What do you mean by painted?” asked Lucio, then he laughed. “You mean face paint?”

“It’s more than that,” said Lola. “Each color represents a core component of the tribe. Yellow to bring others together. Blue for warriors, orange for scholars, violet for the esteemed, and several other colors as well. To be painted is an honor— for my sister and I, even as royalty, we had to earn it through years of effort.”

“Heh, so you’re telling me, back at the subway, I was right to have inked your face?” Lucio laughed. “Figures. Just shows how smart I am.”

“I think you’re confusing correlation and causation.  Besides, the color was wrong.” corrected Lola, rolling her eyes towards Darian, who still sat quietly at the table’s edge.

“But what about her? Why isn’t she painted?” asked Arial, pointing to Lola’s grandmother, who had started to walk towards us. “Isn’t she supposed to be your queen?”

“I wear paint to prove myself, to show my status, for honor. She doesn’t need paint for that. Everyone knows.”

“Well that would put me on the same field as her then, wouldn’t it?” asked Lucio. “Besides, what’s to stop me from slapping some paint on right now, taking a spear, and hitting warrior status?”

“Because that’s exactly how you die,” Lola answered. “Of all the people to insult, please keep away from the warriors, Lucio. Most are not as patient as I am. If anything, you can wear the grey paint.”

“Oh, and what does that signify?”

“It’s what the kids wear when they play house. I think it’s fitting.”

But before Lucio could respond, Darian cut him off.

“Dropping the Speaking in Tongues power, be careful what you say,” he announced, just as Lola’s grandmother reached the table, and she looked us over with a warm smile.

“I owe you my thanks,” she said, resting one gnarled hand on the tabletop while waving at an assistant, “for returning my granddaughter to me. From her own testimony, she’s made it apparent that she could not have come alone. That she was held against her will and hunted by monsters that are far beyond our reach.”

“That were far beyond your reach,” I said, leaning forward. “We thank you for your hospitality, but also have an urgent matter. These monsters have not stopped hunting— they are close now. And they won’t stop until they find what they want.”

“Perhaps. But our walls are strong. And we are hidden beyond reach,” she answered, her voice as calm as a summer breeze. “Why leave safety for revenge alone? Violence is not our way.”

“Because they won’t stop until they find you. They’ll—” I was interrupted by the chiming of a bell as her servant appeared, carrying a tray loaded with several cups and a pitcher.

“Please,” said Lola’s grandmother. “We are at a feast, and we are celebrating. For now, we are safe. We will discuss your concerns when the time is right, and we have more pressing matters at hand.”

“What’s that?” asked Lucio, craning his neck to look at the cups.

“For one, the life of this young man,” she said, gesturing to Darian. “It is already short, but it need not be shorter. And secondly, for coffee. Or perhaps, that is first.”

The servant pulled up a chair, and she seated herself, taking the tray in front of her and filling each of the cups to the brim with steaming liquid, her hands moving slowly as to not spill a drop. Despite their age, and the occasional shake that ran through them from the elbow, they were well-coordinated, performing the motion autonomously from years of practice.

“Do we really have time for coffee?” I asked. “They’re strong and not far off. We need to figure out how to stop them, before they invade!”

“Time?” she answered. “Oh, there’s always more time. We’ve been here for many years, and I doubt this will be our last. But you, you were born a mere handful of years ago; do not presume to know the workings of a world that has persisted far before your time.”

“I don’t think you’ve ever had a threat like this before,” I countered. “I’ve seen what they can do. One of them can tear your wall to shreds, the other can burn it down, and another can slice right through it. It’s not going to last long or be a strong defense.”

“We’ve had our fair share of such encounters. Do you really think they’re the first to try to take advantage of us? Certainly not. And certainly not the last. Memories erode quickly, and as soon as the stories of the last ones fade new ones come knocking.”

“Wait, are you talking about the time that half the jungle died to fend off invaders?” asked Darian. “Can you still do that?”

“I wouldn’t quite know. As they say, memories fade,” she said, letting her gaze fall on him for a few seconds. “But enough talk on that. Now let’s enjoy something timeless — coffee. And introductions are in order. I am Aetia, the matron of the Worldwalkers, and have been for many years.”

Chapter 85

“We call this strain the Far-Reacher,” said Aetia, passing each of us a cup. "It can only be found deep in the jungle, but even there, it is incredibly rare. Grown by Vibrants, it bitters too quickly and never reaches a full flavor— so to enjoy it, it must be found in the wild. But unlike normal coffee plants, these grow as a vine to the tops of the tallest trees, and there, they bear fruit. Only after they have passed through struggle, through darkness, and through dangerous journey do they reach the sunlight. The higher the flowering, the better the bean— the longer the vine, the farther that nutrients must travel, such that only the purest reach the top. Please drink, and drink slow— for it spent years to give you its best.”

She gripped her cup then paused, her hand reaching across the table to a small jar provided by the servant.

“And I almost forgot— sweetened by honey, of course.”

In each of our cups, she dumped a spoonful of honey, except for Lucio’s, where she gave four.

“Nearly forgot about your sweet tooth, darling. Never met someone who enjoyed a full four scoops,” she said after finishing, and Darian threw Lucio a dark look.

“She’s the most powerful person this side of the jungle, did you just plant a mem—" he started, but Lola cut him off as Lucio hid a mischievous grin.

“Before it gets cold— to kinship," she said, and we all took our first sip. Arial lowered her hand reluctantly, staring at the murky liquid with wonder, while I swished it inside my mouth. Even at Burner’s, the best coffee in the city, I’d passed on cups— but this was different. Fuller somehow, almost incomparable to coffee entirely— a boldness and acidity that seemed to race for first on my taste buds. Close enough to coffee to share the name, but an experience akin to switching from natural water to carbonated.

“It’s wonderful,” said Arial after another long sip, her eyes closed as she savored it. "How exactly to you harvest it?”

“It is very, very difficult. Disturbing the vines corrupts the nutrient flow, so Vibrants cannot bend them down to earth. It is possible to train monkeys to fetch them, but it is more difficult than you would think, as they too recognize the bean’s value and eat it themselves. Rather, the only reliable way is to send climbers up to search the trees, then to mark on maps where they are most successful. But even then, they must climb season after season, and there are entire years where the plants will not flower, and the climbing will be for naught.”

“Why don’t you just send a Flyer up there?" Arial asked. "It would be a pretty simple task.”

“A Flyer?” Aetia laughed, taking a long sip from the cup clutched between her two fragile hands. "Oh, it’s been what, three hundred years since the last one of those. I’d have to consult the books. My memory just isn’t what it used to be.”

At the end of the table, Zeke shifted, his hand drifting down towards his pocket. His eyes were still bloodshot, and he still suffered from shakes, but it looked as if he were waking up from a slumber. Lola cast her grandmother a dark look, and she smiled as Darian leaned into the table, asking the question on all of our tongues.

“Three hundred years?” he said, the words accented by Lucio crunching through a biscuit. "You remember three hundred years?”

“Grandmother,” warned Lola, but Aetia waved her off.

“Lola, I won’t be around much longer to guard this secret, and they’ve already learned more of us than any outsiders in the last century. But I don’t remember it well," she said. "That was a particularly slow time in our history. Five hundred stands out much more clear. You find that the years turn to weeks, and what do you remember from three hundred weeks ago? No, it’s the events that stand out.”

“Is this you, then?” Zeke asked, removing the stone statue and placing it on the center of the table. Glancing between them, the resemblance was immediate— there was the mole, now faded but still present on her right cheek. The same stance, the same style of hair.

“Oh, I never did like artist renditions of me," she said, brushing it aside. "I think that they captured my sister far better, but she left us long ago. Downside of the power, I suppose, watching the others fall away over time. One day, it will find me too, but not yet.”

“Your power?" asked Zeke, his face falling. "Legends were that it originated somewhere else, a fountain or a tree.”

“Darling, even as an experienced man, you believe quite the fairy tale. No, the fountain of youth shan’t be found here, unless you wish to call it my bathing water. And I assure you, none here want to drink that.”

“So that means—" he started, but she cut him off.

“That means that it is not transferable. There is no cup to drink that will pass it along to you, or anyone else, for that matter. I should know— I’ve seen many try, and I’ve seen them all die.”

Zeke frowned, looking at the statue, then at his missing finger, then back at Lola’s grandmother.

“So it doesn’t heal either, then?”

“There are some scars you keep for life,” she answered. "Doesn’t matter how old you are.”

Chapter 86

“Now it is time for you to find rest," said Aetia, "You have traveled far, and I can see the weariness in your eyes. Today was a celebration, but tomorrow, we will preside over the court. There are two matters of great importance at hand, and both must be settled promptly.”

I saw Darian swallow as Lola moved closer to him, and he spoke up, his voice bold but his eyes betrayed doubt.

“What are they going to do? Are, are you going to try to kill me?”

“Me? Of course not. But there are those who would. You did trod upon sacred ground, did you not? And many are zealots—in my age, I’ve learned that those who have forgotten to forgive burn out quickly, but we are in the center of a flame now, and they seek only to burn.”

“Well, we’re not going to let him die,” I stated, letting my palm rest on the table. “Actually, we’re not going to let anything happen to him.”

Lola’s grandmother stared down her nose at me, her expression hard and her gaze scrutinizing.

“You have loyalty, which is good. Strong loyalty,” she said. “But if the Worldwalkers were to decide his fate, there is little you could do.”

“You haven’t seen what I can do,” I countered, matching her stare.

“But I have seen your arrogance. The sea is bigger than you imagine, and you are not such a big fish. You simply haven't strayed from your reef.”

My jaw tightened, but I let the answer stand in the air as she continued to speak.

“Now, Darian will be tried for his character. He will need to prove his purity—and the simplest way to accomplish that is to show he can access the other side on his own. Young man, you are a Mimic, no?”

“Yes, I am, but—”

“But it would be believable that you accessed the other side on your own already. If you could erase any doubt in that regard, the trial will fall upon its face. I recommend the two of you practice,” she said and gestured towards Lola. "Practice hard."

“You said there were two matters of importance—Darian, and what is the other one?” asked Arial, finishing her coffee with a small frown and eyeing the remainder of mine. "Is it Lacit about to break down your door?"

“Hmm, I suppose that makes two and a half. But the other discussion is my granddaughter’s return. For the first time, I grow weary. It’s time for someone to replace me, and for the first time in millennia, there are two. Among the zealots, they have their own leaders who are itching for power. There are many who believe that we have stayed hidden too long—that it is time for us to expand. To return the world to its natural order. I suspect they will be making a play at seizing leadership. This would lead only to disaster, both for my people and for the outside world.”

“So tomorrow, we’ll be setting the record straight,” said Lola. “Either my sister or I will be taking the claim to the crown.”

“I may be the only one to remember that tradition, but it is still tradition,” said Aetia, “Besides, the opposition would be foolish to attempt to intervene. Only the survivor can rule, of course. And they’re too cowardly to risk their lives.”

“Well, that sounds like that issue is solved!” exclaimed Lucio, throwing his hands in the air as if he held confetti. “If only the survivor—wait, survivor? As in only one?”

“Only one,” confirmed Lola’s grandmother, her voice stone as Lola looked away.

“Wait, so there’s you,” said Darian. “And there’s your sister. They’re going to make you fight for it?”

“It is tradition,” answered Lola as she avoided his eyes. “And if we break this one, it brings the others into question.”

“That’s barbaric,” countered Darian, his voice starting to rise. “You’re going to fight your own family? Who could kill one of their own? It’s insanity.”

“It’s tradition,” her grandmother repeated, standing to leave. “And I’d advise you to watch your words. It’s how I lost my own sister long ago. We honor tradition.”

She hobbled away, leaving our table in silence as the rest of the feast disbanded. Eventually, Darian spoke up, his face more pale than when he had realized his own life was in danger.

“Lola, you didn’t tell us this. Have you seen the muscles on your sister, and she’s a warrior! You seriously can’t—”

“I have it under control, Darian,” she answered. “You don’t know the rules here. I do. And some can’t be avoided.”

“Then maybe they should be removed. Think about what you’re throwing away,” he said. "Your life, or hers."

“You think I don’t know?” she hissed. “Don’t think you know more about this than me. Don’t start meddling in my affairs. I’ve got it covered. Now let’s focus on what’s actually important, and make you a Transient.”

Chapter 87

Though it was the most comfortable night of our journey, no one slept easy.

The Worldwalkers had spared us two rooms, located side by side near the top of the dome. We’d ridden an elevator to ascend to the uppermost branches of the center tree, then walked along a rope bridge that spanned nearly a hundred feet to one adjacent, the planks swaying with each turn of the breeze. I kept my eyes fixed ahead, and even Lucio’s jokes halted until we reached the door and our knuckles turned white on the outer rails.

The floors of the rooms were enormous knots in the tree branches, with long waving leaves jutting upwards to form the walls, then lashed together to form a gently sloping roof. A clay pot occupied each corner of the room, filled to the brim with water, which Lola explained was to collect dew each morning. Incense burned on a small center table, releasing a thin tendril of smoke that drove away pests and thickened the air. Ferns formed the beds, but the leaves were thick, like miniature pillows with more give than any mattress I had experienced.

The rope bridge was the only path in or out of the room, and as we were escorted into the room, the guard turned to Lola, speaking softly.

“You’re sure you want to stay here? I have orders to bring you to the royal chambers.”

“I’m sure,” Lola answered, and with a nod, the guard retreated. Moments later, a stick with a hook pulled the bridge away, leaving us as an island floating among leaves. With Arial, escape was still possible, but in the distance, two guards watched us from the trunk. And under Lola’s command, we were to stay put.

“As my grandmother instructed, if we can undeniably prove you’re able to access the other side on your own, you’re clear,” said Lola to Darian. “We're going to need you to mimic me.”

“Wouldn’t that be more offensive to them?” I asked. “Not just trespassing, but stealing your powers to do it?”

“No. Many believe that only those chosen can access the other side. That it determines who to block out and who it allows to enter onto sacred ground. So it doesn’t matter how he gets there, just that he does it himself.”

“And if I can’t?” Darian asked, dragging a finger through the water pot with a small wake.

“Then the situation has degraded—it will be perceived that you have the ability to enter the other side, and it has rejected you. It makes your act of trespassing far worse. So let’s focus, because that's not a viable option.”

“Right,” said Darian, following Lola to the center of the room. “But that’s the thing about being a Mimic—I won’t ever be as strong as you. I lose power in the transition.”

“And you won’t need to be,” she answered. “Simply complete one trip, and you will be viewed as acceptable. We're shooting for a C grade here; you just have to pass. Now what’s the best way for you to absorb my power? Full immersion?”

“Well, it usually only takes a second to pull it in,” Darian said, adjusting his sleeves to show more skin. “But if I’m going to be taking as much of it as possible, it will take a minute. Can you flicker back and forth?”

“Absolutely,” she said, looking unsure. “As a quick warning, be careful. We’re at a high altitude, and there’s only the branch here on the other side, no walls. Slip once and it's a long fall.”

“Good to know that we chose a safe location.” He laughed. "We're really trying to stack the odds on this one."

“Actually, it’s among the safest,” she started, then her voice trailed off. “Right, let’s get started. I’ll use as much as I can.”

Instantly, she disappeared, the incense around her swirling to replace where her body had been, then flaring back as she reappeared, bringing with her a flush of air far more dry and sour than the humidity in the room. Back and forth she moved as Darian focused on her, his hair blowing a little with each reappearance. After a moment, his eyes closed, and he stood still, his palms outwards towards her.

“That’s it, I need a break,” she gasped after twenty fluctuations, and he nodded. "Do you think you're ready?"

“That’s about all I can take in,” he said. “Here goes nothing.”

He shimmered, his skin going entirely translucent for an instant to flash a shadow of his skeleton underneath, then popping back into reality. He drew a deep breath and tried again, this time more uniform—and though I could see through him, it was as if he were a misted window—enough still remained to make it evident he had not completed the journey.

“You should feel yourself snap into the other side,” said Lola. “It should feel like you’re getting over a high hill or breaking through a wall.”

“Yeah, well, I feel like I’m climbing the hill for sure,” he answered. “But I’m not feeling the top. I can see something, though. It's dark—very dark.”

“You need to push through that.”

“Does it look like I’m not trying?” he nearly shouted, exasperated.

“Well, do you need more of my power?” she retorted, her own irritability showing in her voice.

“No, this is all I can hold. I’ll have to make do with it. Here we go again.”

Sweat trickled from his forehead, and he grunted as his power surged forwards—and for an instant, I thought he had dissipated, but Lola shook her head.

“Look, you’re right there. You’re so close, I can see you materializing over there. You just need to push a little harder.”

“I don’t think I can.” He brought his palm to his face and wiped away the sweat. And he tried again. And another time. For two hours, he brushed against the edge of the other side, but for two hours, he failed to complete the jump. Long ago, the last glimmers of daylight had trickled away, and below, the lanterns were extinguished, until it became too difficult to see his progress. And as night approached, he fell down exhausted, with Lola frowning above him.

“We’ll try again in the morning,” she said. “Get some rest. Maybe you’re just tired and will perform optimally after a full recovery.”

For the rest of us, the thought of the next day pushed sleep away. With dawn, and before they could practice, the hook returned with the rope bridge, and the guard appeared at our door before Darian had another chance to practice.

“You’ve been summoned to the roots,” she said as we shook the sleep away. “It’s time to begin.”

Chapter 88

The roots, as we should have guessed, were at the base of the center tree and were protected by a wall nearly twenty feet tall of stone. But the stone was not the typical rock and mortar, rather, it was shaped of twisted vines and interwoven branches, their details worn down over the years. Each part bore a different composition, ranging from white marble to dark granite and crimson sandstone, in a swirl of colors that drew attention to the village center even without the enormous trunk.

“Blender work,” stated Lola as we approached a side gate patrolled by four masked guards. "They owed my grandmother a favor a few centuries back.”

“And what was that for?" asked Arial. "I’m assuming it wasn’t coffee?”

“Protection,” answered Lola as we reached the guards, and they flanked us, escorting us as they opened a door that grated along its hinges and thick enough to be classified as a boulder. "But they owe us for that too. Shoes off before you enter. Welcome to the roots, the home of our Vibrants. Our royal gardens—you will never find anywhere else so alive.”

The others walked inwards, but a guard caught Darian’s shoulder, pulling him back before he could pass through the gate. I paused, listening as two cornered him, my fingers twitching as I prepared to call upon my power.

“Whether what you did was right or wrong, I cannot say,” said the voice through the mask, one I recognized as Lola’s sister. "But know this. That I am grateful, that we are grateful, despite what you will hear.”

Then she pushed us forwards until we caught up to others that had already entered the enclosure, before Darian had a chance to answer.

“Now that— that’s green,” said Slugger as we stepped through, halting at the edge with a low whistle. "And that’s coming from someone who's just escaped the jungle.”

Stone homes grew out of the inner wall like a mushroom circle, cropping up at intervals that seemed to have been designated at random. Ahead, the path was covered in thick moss that surged beneath our toes with each step, making our left-behind shoes unnecessary. Flower beds erupted from either side in every variety imaginable and more— with roses the size of sunflowers, dandelions with seeds like parasails, and lilies large enough to be chairs.

Animal activity swarmed about us as bees played hopscotch with the flowers and birds occupied every available cranny as a nest. Lizards darted underfoot, rustling through thick grass that left wakes behind them. Reddish squirrels chattered from the branches, their cheeks filled with enough nuts to last an apocalypse, and competing with monkeys for the best real estate to watch our arrival.

The roots themselves sprawled out from the center, thick enough to be tree trunks themselves, like giant gnarled hands that gripped at the soil and spread their fingers deep beneath. They bucked as they roamed, ending only at the base of the stone wall, and seeming to press against even that in an effort for expansion. And though the dirt around them agreed, the stone refused, almost magnifying their power in a cradle seemed fit only for life.

But greatest of all was the towering tree in the center, that seemed to have its own presence—almost a heartbeat that flowed away from it. A form of life, a power that I could feel strumming through the air, as real yet as intangible as Lola herself.

And unlike the other parts of the jungle, which seemed just to tolerate our presence, there was something about the roots that drew us in, that seemed to welcome us rather than resent us. As if we too were a part of that garden.

The ground sloped forwards gently as we walked, ending in a semicircle of chairs formed by the buckles in the roots themselves, centered around a small cabin built into a hollow of the great tree. Except for a few strips of unfinished wood, it was more of a door, a portal into the heart of the tree itself. Lola directed us to the back of the root chairs, where we waited as others came to join, emerging down other mossy paths that all converged on the cabin.

There we waited in a silence of words but not of nature— the birds chirped as the throats cleared. The leaves rustled as the congregation shifted in their chairs, their clothes dragging against the bark. As feet shifted, so too did the millipedes that traversed the floor.

But one aspect stood apart from the vibrancy of the gardens— at the very base of the tree, perhaps a dozen figures stood equally spaced from each other, each looking radially away. Each stood straight, their chins raised high, their eyes obscured with masks so dark, they refused to let even a glimmer of sunlight escape. And despite the flurry of motion about them, they were so still, it was as if they too had been blended to stone, the dark paint streaks matching the granite of the wall outside.

“Lola,” hissed Lucio, unable to take his eyes of them and leaning over to her. "Who are they?”

“Shhhh,” she answered, dropping her hand in a signal to lower his voice.

“What’s that?" asked Lucio as Darian rolled his eyes. "Did you want me to ask louder?”

“They’re called Deathguards, guardians of the tree,” she whispered, her cheeks turning red then slightly transparent. "And if you really want to know who they are, maybe you should go talk to one.”

For a moment, Lucio looked confused, prepared to rise out of his chair. Then Darian put a hand on his shoulder with a single warning word.

“Don’t.”

Then, when every seat had been filled, with people of all ages and shapes, but all with fresh brush strokes of paint upon their faces, did the door crack open and Lola’s grandmother step out. She bore a tray of small cups, and as she spoke, her voice just barely carried over the crowd.

“May you draw wisdom from the great tree upon which you sit, and may it guide your judgment," she said, then brandished the dish such that the cups jostled against each other. "But first, coffee. So your perceptions may rise about the forest of common thought.”

Chapter 89

Lola’s grandmother walked to each in attendance, followed by servants that replenished the cups on her tray, leaving one at each of the seated assembly with a scoop of honey.

“It is our belief,” whispered Lola, “that every meeting should start such as this. The leader must give to the followers, must provide for them. It is a way of showing gratitude, but more importantly, that a leader’s loyalty is more important than the followers’.”

“What do you mean by that?” asked Lucio. “It’s her job to lead. They should be serving her.”

“And that,” said Zeke in an interjection, “is how many leaders fall. By forgetting who props them up. All rock turns to sand if not protected.”

Lucio started to answer then stopped, a short realization crossing his face before Aetia appeared before him with a cup.

“And how much honey for you?” she asked, while Lucio’s eyes were still unfocused.

“Three,” he answered without thinking as Lola glared daggers at him and Darian’s eyes rolled again.

“My,” Aetia said. “I don’t think I’ve ever met someone who likes that much honey. Three’s about the most I’ve ever seen.”

But before she could change her mind, Lucio received his three dollops, his cheeks turning slightly red as the others stared, his head turned slightly to the side. Lola’s sister in particular stared down her nose, her eyes hard, and her own coffee missing any sweetener. And Lola’s grandmother made her way through our ranks, the last to receive the small gift before returning to the front of the circle.

“Long ago, so long it is but a wisp of my memory, our people came upon this tree after centuries of wandering. Even then, before it was near the size of today, we knew it was special. For us, it seemed the center of the jungle, existing to harbor life itself. And so we made that our own purpose—to grow life. We cultivated it, we brought it to its vibrancy—and I dare say that no other place on this earth is this much alive. Let our words continue those actions.”

“And just as the invading termite destroys the entire tree, so too do foreigners consume us from the inside,” came a snide voice from the right side of the semicircle, near the base of the tree. A woman sat there, flanked with two others, slightly apart from the rest of the group. She was older, but nowhere near as aged as Aetia, and she wore jewelry atop her leather garments—long strands of amber beads jostled when she moved, paired with glass baubles that glittered in the sunlight.

Aetia cleared her throat then continued, speaking over the slight murmurs in the crowd.

“As Waela has been so courteous to remind us, we are accompanied today by others from outside the reach of the forest. We owe them the greatest thanks for returning my granddaughter, who we thought so long to be lost.”

“Whose mother should never have left in the first place!”

The faces near Waela shrank away as Lola’s grandmother answered, the volume of her voice unchanged, but the tone deadly. “Perhaps, Waela, your memory falters that we agreed to send her as our eye into the world. Or perhaps you had not yet left the cradle then, with you being so young? My memory may be full, but it recalls you voting yes.”

“Regardless,” Waela answered, pushing the point aside, her beads clicking angrily, “they returned through blasphemous methods—trespassing on the other side, walking where we hold it sacred. We have never let such transgressions pass by before.”

“No, we have not—and I shall address that in time. But first, I have already announced long ago my intent to lay down the crown. I seek a retirement, though I feel it shall be far shorter than my reign. My bones grow weary, my sight dims. The outside world has always changed, but I can no longer maintain pace with it. So I bring forth my two granddaughters, Lola and Rila, that one of them shall replace me and lead the tribe long beyond my death.”

“And why should they receive it?” Waela hissed back, her face hard. “There are others who have served longer, who have served greater. Others that may be more fitting to lead.”

“And by that, do you mean yourself, Waela?” Aetia shot back, and the crowd bristled. “But should you be so willing, I advise you to join my granddaughters on the eve of the full moon, when naught but the point of a spear shall decide.”

From directly opposite Waela, Rila ran her thumb down a knife she kept at her belt, staring at the older woman as the metal nicked into skin. Her face showed no mercy, and though she bore the same frame as Lola, her muscles left no uncertainty about the threat.

“And you would sacrifice one of them for this fate?” Waela attempted, backing slightly away. “Tradition dictates a death, but if one were to run unopposed, none would be required.”

“I would not. It is for them to decide. As is tradition, and should they choose, they may step down.”

“And I choose to defend my honor!” shouted Lola from next to me, her voice bearing far more weight than her usual higher tone.

“And I choose to win it!” shouted Rila, her teeth bared with such a ferocity that even I stepped back.

“Then it is settled!” cried their grandmother before the others had a chance to respond. “In but seven days’ time, you shall have a new leader as is our tradition.”

“Tradition?” shrieked Waela, throwing down her fists, her voice piercing the glade. “Tradition? Ending the heretic’s life would be tradition! Unless he proves himself now!” She threw a darted finger at Darian, and the crowd waited as Aetia nodded to him. He drew a deep breath, drawing upon Lola as she flickered not far away, lending him her power. Then he closed his eyes, and his shadow behind him began to fade, all heads turning to watch, all breathing halting in anticipation.

With a second push, I could see right through him to Rila beyond, even her expression softening. His hair took on the quality of melting snow, his veins moved with each heartbeat, and I could see Aetia’s cup of coffee resting just inside his shirt.

And just for an instant, so quickly that neither I nor the crowd could determine its validity, he flickered before snapping back as fully solid, shuddering and stumbling. He held his hands up just as the clamoring began, sinking down to a knee as he tried to force his way through, but again he faltered, the springing back to our side like that of a rubber band. But just as the crowd stepped forwards, and I readied myself to fight, a horn sounded in the distance, drawing all eyes up the slopes and away from the roots to the edge of the bramble wall, where the guards were now gathering, joining in the chorus of alarms.

Chapter 90

As one, the congregation rushed to the bramble wall, politics forgotten under the urgent horns. There, great stalks as green as limes and thick as trees bent in upon themselves at the inner edge, each with a leaf the size of a minivan resting along the mossy ground. With a leap, Lola led us onto one, then pulled a length of twine held taut between the stem and a stake driven into the ground. As the knot came free, the stem straightened, lifting us into the air with a lurch. The stalk twisted as it unfolded, positioning the leaf so that we entered into a recess on the wall invisible from the outside, but several stories above the ground.

In moments, a dozen other stalks rose alongside ours as a score of warriors arrived to surround Aetia and her entourage of several additional leaders from the council, three yellow adolescents accompanying the original Speaker of Tongues, and ten green-painted Vibrants. The Vibrants led the way into the brambles, casting the jumbled weave into fabric like floorboards while raising a tunnel over our heads. And in moments, we broke into the outside from fifty feet in the air, a rail twisting itself to guard against the ledge, and a balcony extending out into space.

Lola held us back as Aetia hobbled onto the platform, somehow appearing even older and more frail than usual. She leaned heavily on a cane and squinted far below, where a group of figures waited.

Sparky, Blake, and the flamethrower henchman stood in a triangle, each with a small portion of their powers activated. A fireball the size of a quarter danced between the flamethrower’s fingers, while Sparky’s hair stood on end with small blue discharges, and Blake’s right arm was cast solid diamond. To my satisfaction, bandages wrapped around his left hand and he tucked it behind his back, hiding the red splotches that had made their way through the cloth.

Lacit stood in the center of them, but what drew my attention was a fifth figure that sat against a tree trunk a few feet away, with handcuffs slapped against his wrist and his clothes near rags.

“Looks like Lacit swallowed his pride,” I whispered to Arial as Lucio gasped and Lola held a finger to her lips. For though he could not see us in the darkness of the tunnel, Olef’s gaze turned upwards as he sniffed the air, and his eyes widened. Then Aetia gestured, and the arch around her exploded in flowers, shrouding her in a backdrop of color while petals drifted to cover the visitors below.

“You stand outside the heart of the jungle,” she called below, her words translated as they fell. “Who might you be? And what do you seek?”

“We come seeking refuge, kind lady,” said Lacit with a faux smile and short bow. “For we are weary travelers. Have we found the right place to lay our heads?”

“Why yes, you have,” Aetia responded, doubling Lacit’s smile as she answered, her voice as sweet as the honey she provided Lucio. “But a mere half mile to the east are the crested caves, with freshwater and bountiful fruit, which I recommend for staying any number of days. You shall find provisions there as well, and even cots maintained by us for the unlikely visitor.”

“Ah, but our feet are weary, and our bags are heavy,” Lacit responded, his smile faltering for an instant. “Perhaps we could enter your home? We can offer payment and could be of service.”

“Perhaps my eyesight is fading, but I don’t see a door down there. We must have forgotten it.” Aetia laughed as annoyance crossed Lacit’s face. “If you can enter, who am I to stop you? We are more than generous with our supplies, and would be most happy to restock you or provide hammocks for you to sleep as you are, such that you would not have to move at all.”

“But for just one night—” Lacit started before he was sharply interrupted.

“And just one answer, as I fear the wind must be obscuring my tone, and you are exhausting my politeness,” she said, now all pretenses of politeness faded. “No.”

Lacit shifted, and his followers squared their shoulders as he shouted back upwards, his finger running up the scar on his neck.

“Our short patience is something we both seem to share,” he called and stepped towards the wall of brambles. “But though you cannot see a door, I can.”

He extended his hands outwards then pulled his fingers apart, focusing upon the section of wall directly in front of him. Around us, the breath of the ten Vibrants quickened, their faces flushing with blood as the entire structure quivered. Below, Lacit raised his chin as he tried again, his fingers curling, the muscles on his forearms tensing.

This time, the structure shook like an earthquake, and several of the Vibrants locked elbows to keep from falling, muffling their cries of pain. But below, not a twig snapped or a leaf fell, nor did the greenery part. Above Aetia, her arch of flowers curled in upon themselves as they turned brown, thorns and dark spiked leaves replacing the multitude of colors. And from within the bramble barrier, something howled, the chilling sound ululating to match the shaking.

Lacit threw down his hands as the Vibrants breathed a collective sigh of relief, their knees shaking, and Aetia laughed again, the sound making him bristle.

“There are powers at work here older than you know!” she claimed, pointing down to the wall. “I caution you against awakening them. Now, I ask you again—what do you seek?”

Seething, Lacit stared back at her, every leaf within arm’s reach crumbling to dust that settled in intricate patterns of concentric circles at his feet.

“You may know some of your powers, but what you possess is beyond your knowledge. What you have is the power to change the outside world forever.”

“Dearie,” chastised Aetia, “If you think I do not know, then I pity your infantile ignorance.”

“Hear me. With it, you could become kings and queens with the flick of your finger. Else more of us will come. That is what I seek,” he said, his voice barely level, struggling to contain a mixture of excitement and rage. “I seek death.”

“Then death you shall find,” Aetia spat, and the wall snapped shut around her like a curtain.

Chapter 91

“No one turns their back on me!” shouted Lacit from far below, his voice muffled by the branches. I heard the crackle of lightning and the roar of fire as the Vibrants tensed once more. Though against the weaker powers, their faces showed far less strain.

“Give them a warning,” commanded Aetia, and two dark figures walked forwards, one who had been concealed by shadows paired with a dark mask. They sank as they walked, the plants beneath them bowing under their weight, shrinking away at their very touch. Aetia turned to them and whispered, her voice just loud enough to reach our ears.

“Just enough to scare them, dearies, to frighten them. Leave them with a taste, leave them thirsty, so they return.”

Chills washed over me as they strode past, careful not to brush skin with any of the others. Behind us, the balcony opened once more, and both the Deathguards strode out. Even the petals on the ground curled as they raised their hands, and the assault below abruptly stopped. Then the curtain of leaves fell across the exit once more, sealing them away.

But not before I saw their hands rise, and an inky blackness rush outwards like dark lances, accompanied by a sound like the shrieking of violin strings.

***

“I still don’t see why we don’t just skewer ‘em,” said Slugger as we returned to the roots, “Lola, couldn’t you just hop on over to the other side with a few friends and make some Lacit shish kabobs?”

“Yes, we could,” Lola answered. “But there are two reasons why that’s an awful idea. First is simple, really—while there’s a good chance we’ll catch them off guard, if we don’t, there’s a portal right to the other side laid bare in front of them. The last thing I’d want to do is let Lacit slip in. Of course, in an actual battle, that is a risk we will have to take.”

Aetia had called for a meeting of not just the officiates, but every member of the tribe, just three hours after ensuring the borders were secure. We congregated under the great tree, the crowd growing by the second, the seats long taken and murmuring, replacing birdsong. Among them, there were many who were painted—green Vibrants huddled near a stretch of flowerbeds, growing roses with particularly long thorns. Yellows interspersed, some of them carrying the rejuvenating power and using it to revitalize members of the crowd, while three Speakers of Tongues huddled around us to feel like they were contributing. Rila stood at the front of a small army of soldiers, their backs straight at attention and butts of spears on the ground. And the Deathguards, now short two, still remained in their positions around the tree. Unspeaking and unmoving.

“Well, if he can make it to the other side, be my guest,” said Darian, looking at his own hands. “It’s not so easy.”

“It’s much easier when the gap is already opened,” replied Lola, and she put a hand on his back. “While difficult, it’s not unthinkable that they could hitch a ride through.”

“Oi, then just take care of them on the other side, I don’t see what the big deal is,” said Slugger, “Seems like we’re all getting worked up about an easily solvable problem. Lure them in to a pickle, catch them unawares like.”

“We don’t want them on the other side,” said Lola, her arms crossed. “And that’s final. But for the other reason, I’ll let my grandmother explain that one.”

Aetia stood before the group and raised her hands for silence, the side conversations vanishing like smothered fires. In front of her, a plant was growing, managed by a nearby vibrant, and it elongated out of the soil as she spoke.

“For many of you,” she started then peered around, her eyes squinting, “For all of you, you have never endured a hostile attack. You have never experienced the intrusion of our distant neighbors, their greed, their desire to destroy. I have, more times than I would like to recount.”

She took a breath and paused before continuing, letting the sentence sink in.

“They come seeking rivers of gold. They come seeking powers beyond their imagination. Once, they came for something so trivial as to enslave us. But every time, we turned them away. And over time, we grew to realize them for what they were—weeds.

“When you remove a weed from a garden, you must pull it out by the roots. Simply snap the stem, and in a week, it will grow back, stronger and more numerous than ever. So too are these invaders. Their leader has stated that more are following him, others that seek to take advantage of our people. For this reason, we must wait until they have committed, until we can grasp them by the roots and pull them out. We must let them grow in number, then we strike them hard, and we set a fear so deep in their hearts that they never dare to return.”

In front of her, the vibrant finished growing and stepped back to allow the crowd to see. And though I’d never seen one, I’d read of them—a Venus fly trap, its spiny mouth open towards the sky, waiting for its next meal.

“Like the fly trap, we must wait until the enemy is fully committed,” continued Aetia as an insect buzzed close then crawled around the mouth of the plant, hesitating before entering, “We must let them overextend, lure them forwards, let them smell the honey within. We cannot afford to attack prematurely, we cannot let them regroup. But then—” she said and leaned in close to the plant, watching as the insect dipped inside its mouth and the leaves snapped shut. “Only then, with surprise and full force on our side, do we win the battle in an instant. Out of nowhere.”

She smiled, and the warriors led a cheer that spread rapidly among the crowd. From the elders to the cooks, the emotion swelled, a mighty stamping of feet and shouts that culminated with the distant roaring of our tigers from where the Worldwalkers cared for them in their stables. Even Darian joined, causing Lucio to cock his head in confusion behind him.

After a full minute, the clapping stopped, the stamping slowed, and the shouting fell away. But instead of dying, the sound grew louder—a rumble that made heads turn upwards, their joy forgotten as confusion and fear crossed their faces. Steadily, the volume grew as the crowd turned silent, and a dark shadow passed over one of the slits in the brambles above.

Arial launched herself skywards, rocketing towards the gap, gasps sounding as she cleared the distance in seconds and broke through the bramble barrier.

“It’s incredible,” one Worldwalker whispered to another next to me. “She just took off! Never have I seen anything like that.”

Chapter 92

When Arial dived back down, her face was white, and she hovered fifteen feet above the crowd with her attention split between us and Aetia.

“Planes!” she shouted, gesturing above. “Loaded with parachuters! There’s dozens of them coming down now, and they’re coming quick. Looks like they’ll miss the bubble, though; they’ve overshot.”

At stares coming back from the tribespeople, all filled with wonder, she paused then spoke again.

“Invaders are coming from the sky and landing over there!” She pointed beyond, where Lacit had been, and recognition dawned in the crowd. But Aetia spoke before there was time for them to react.

“Vibrants, full alert. If anything so much as touches the wall, we need to know. Rila, prepare the warriors for immediate war. Act just as if this were a full on invasion drill. And Deathguard,” she said, turning, her face menacing to where the silent circle stood about the tree. “Be ready but do not leave your post.”

“And what a coincidence it seems to be,” spoke up Waela, stepping forwards out of the crowd. “That just as our gates are threatened for the first time in generations, we happen to have visitors as well? That one of them bears the ill omen of having trespassed the other side, a sure sign of ill luck, and our attention is diverted as he fails the test? And one among them seems to hold all the answers of the enemy from above. But of course, Aetia, I wouldn’t presume to hold all the answers—I don’t have your experience. Not by far, as you have said.”

She made her way to the base of the tree, stepping slightly in front of the frowning Aetia. So close together, their difference in years seemed negligible—both were elder women, perhaps the age difference as slim as daughter and mother. But when both could be grandmothers, it seemed trivial.

“But I don’t need experience to know when we are playing the fool,” she spat, pointing to us. “How do we know that they aren’t tricking us? Perhaps this was their plan all along, perhaps they recognized Lola as a newcomer and tricked her, playing her like a harp, bringing the intruders here. Has age clouded your eyes so far, Aetia, that you can no longer see the truth?”

“How dare you insinuate the loss of my grandmother’s mental capacity and the abject morality of my trusted friends!” said Lola, standing up, her expression more furious than I had ever seen.

“Trusted friends? Or are they mere acquaintances,” returned Waela, her voice quizzical. “It was not so long ago that you left our tribe, Lola, to venture outside. How long have you known these friends? A year at most?” She paused while Lola hesitated, then reached a conclusion. “Less than a year, then. Surely not long enough to judge character, especially if they are manipulative. Is it true that one of them can create false memories?”

Lola’s mouth opened, but her grandmother cut her off before she could speak.

“Waela, I should remind you that you speak not only to your current leader, but to your future one as well. Surely such insulting words would not be befitting, unless you do not believe leadership will follow that progression and have someone else in mind?”

Waela’s look betrayed no emotion, but Rila pivoted on her heel towards her, and the entire battalion of soldiers following her lead cast Waela into shadow. And when Waela spoke, her voice was careful, level.

“I simply wish for that which is best for our future,” she said, then raised her voice as she turned to speak to the crowd. ”But who are we, if we trust foreigners more than one of our own? We know one is guilty, and we are letting him walk free? No, that is not our way! We should lock them all away until the battle is over, lest they be spies!”

The crowd shifted, eyes darting to where we stood. Though there were no whispers, sound was necessary for the communication that rippled through them via passing glances and tensing muscles. For fear needs no language to be spoken.

“From your own mouth, you said it is a dark omen for one to have trespassed,” countered Aetia, with one eye surveying her people. “But it is the lightest omen I’ve seen in years to have a Flyer among us. Locking her away would be more than eliminating a resource; it would be spitting on the hand of fate.”

“Yet trusting them in our most desperate hour would expose ourselves, would make us weak,” said Waela, then she leered as she looked to Darian. “So instead, I propose this—lock the heretic away. If he is as he says, and can walk between worlds, then a closed door should mean nothing to him. As for the others, let them fight for us to demonstrate their passion. But if they’re lying, and they turn out to be traitors, I will be the first one to show him the knife.”

For a moment, nothing broke the tension except for the smile curling across Aetia’s lips.

“Of course, Waela, a wonderful solution,” she said, her eyes knowing. “But I did not expect it to come from you to suggest our guests, now that they join our warriors, should be among the Painted.”

Chapter 93

“It is tradition that all those who fight are to be painted,” said Lola, instructing us. “Or rather, primed. It’s a lesser coat of paint, a red, one that will be covered over in the future for further achievements. But as a tribe, to lay down your life for others is the greatest sacrifice. And by risking it, you become one of us in honorary name.”

Dusk was falling, and the atmosphere was tense as nothing was heard from beyond the bramble wall. Hours before, Lacit had gone missing, slipping back into the forest. Rila stood guard, flitting in and out of the other side as she surveilled the perimeter, her soldiers ready to raise the alarm at a moment’s notice. But now she joined us at the roots, where Aetia had erected a small table laden with several bowls, and was busy working a mortar and pestle with the aid of two Vibrants. A small line of people gathered before her in an arc, including us and ten others, all waiting as she worked away.

All of us, of course, besides Darian.

At Waela’s word, he’d been carted away, whisked up the tree to the same room we had held before. And now we spoke in whispers without Darian to mask our words as Aetia continued the preparation.

“This is absolutely ridiculous. Waela is trying to bait me!” Lola fumed, now that she had prepared us for the ritual. “She knows at a time like this we can use every hand. She thinks she’ll get me into giving my inheritance just by taking one of my friends!”

“Such a coincidence she took Darian, then,” Arial drawled with a wink at me. Lola blushed, and I hid a smile as she had continued.

“That’s not the point. What is the point is she’s acting against my grandmother, and soon it’s going to be mine or my sister’s problem!”

“Fifty-fifty chance ain’t bad,” chipped in Slugger. “And the way I see it, he’s safer there than the battlefield. Lookee, when we win the battle, we’ll be proven right and we can go on our merry way. And if we lose the battle, well, Darian will be around to tell the tale. Maybe he’s the lucky one.”

“Yeah, think there’s room for two?” Lucio pressed. “I’d do a swap. Great vantage point for filming up there too!”

“You wouldn’t dare film here,” Lola said, and Lucio put up his hands.

“Hey hey, it was just a suggestion!” he said, though I remembered the camera on the table during the feast. Had it actually been turned off? I wondered and was instantly grateful that Lucio couldn’t erase memories, just add them.

“And what would happen if we could break him out?” I asked, considering our options. “We definitely can.”

“You’d aggravate tribal tensions enough to prove Waela right that you’re a menace, for one,” Lola answered. “And two, our tribe would be split right before an attack. We’d be fighting amongst ourselves.”

“Which would open the door for Lacit,” I concluded, crossing my arms.

“Precisely,” said Lola with a frown. “There’s not much of a choice we have except to leave him there.”

“I made sure Darian had a full dose of flying before he left,” added Arial. “It won’t help if the door is locked, but if he finds a way to escape, it just might.”

“That’s brilliant!” I said, and she raised her eyebrows.

“I do come up with a good idea every once in a while, you know,” she sniffed. But before I could respond, Aetia set down her mortar and pestle with a clink and turned to face those waiting. She gestured to Lola and Rila, who walked to stand by her side, arranging the bowls in front of her. The line came to attention, and it felt as if the forest itself was waiting.

“There is no greater honor among the Worldwalkers than to be Painted,” announced Aetia, wiping her stained fingers with cloth. “And today, you receive this as defenders of our tribe. Know that, as the Painted, you may walk among us free of harm, you shall never fear the deep jungle, and that you shall forever be remembered as our protectors.”

Stepping forwards, she took the first of the bowls from the table, offering it to Lola and Rila as she spoke a name.

“Dinose, for six years, you have trained among the warriors. You have climbed the highest peaks and walked the lowest valleys, you have swam piranha-infested waters and patrolled hundreds of miles around our perimeter. Take today the blue paint of warrior, and wear it well. Rila, leader of the soldiers, anoints you.”

A boy in his late teens stepped forwards, then took a knee before Rila, pulling his hair back from his forehead as she dipped her fingers in a bowl. Symmetrically, she dragged her nails across his cheek bones, then across his shoulders, leaving streaks to mingle with his proud tears.

“Lista,” called Aetia next. “For the pursuits of knowledge, for acquiring intelligence beyond your years, come forth. For you have discovered new medications to treat infections from old books and have cured over fifteen soldiers, many of whom were on the brink of death. For your studies, Lola, leader of the learned, anoints you with orange.”

Had Lola another sister, Lista could have qualified, as she looked a near identical version. She accepted the paint with her chin high in the air, Lola choosing to mark across her forehead to her earlobes.

Several others Aetia called forwards, each welcomed for separate disciplines, until she arrived at Lucio, the first of our group.

“To each of you, I award the paint of blood,” Aetia said, pulling a dark red bowl from behind her and dipping her own fingers within. “For you have travelled far to give us aid, and escaped many dangers to warn of the enemy. And for each, there too is something special.

“For you, Lucio, know that cleverness will take you far, so long as it is tempered by wisdom.”

She dabbed red over his eyelids, smearing it upwards to his brow in two vertical lines.

“For you, Slugger, there is no greater truth than speaking from the heart. Some may see it as brash, but it bears the strength of pure honesty.”

Taking the paint, she marked the corners of his mouth, pulling it sideways to his ears.

“For SC, know the importance of balance. For if a boat tilts too far one way, it becomes capsized. Remember your friends, for they will steady you.”

My mark came along the jaw, with focus on the far sides, her wet fingers pressing in to leave darker spots there.

“And you, Arial,” said Aetia, turning to fetch another bowl from the countertop, “among powers, it is Flyers who are most revered among us. Few remember, as few have seen them. But who else can reach the top of our great tree in a single bound? No one can match the scouting abilities, the foraging, or the discovery of your power. And for that, I mark you violet—the color of those most precious among us, the esteemed, most valuable for their skills.”

Arial stood still as Aetia moved towards her, her eyes brimming with tears.

“And remember this, young one,” spoke Aetia as she marked her face and arms. “That you are valuable just as you are. Never should you seek to change what you are.”

Arial trembled and looked about to speak, but Aetia put a finger across her lips.

“They say being a transient lets you see through the thoughts of others, “ Aetia said with a smile. “But that’s just hearsay. I’ve been on this earth long enough to know, Arial.”

Chapter 94

“Here you are. And to think, I was afraid you were all cowards about to flee before the action,” said Rila, singling me out as we disbanded and headed back to the wall.

“Cowards?” I asked. “What are you trying to say?”

“One of you already took off.” she said, “Rode a tiger out the back while we were preoccupied, left faster than the wind. You’re saying you don’t know?”

Our group met eyes, and Arial spoke what we were all thinking.

“Zeke.”

“Which means we better be ready,” I said. “If he’s fled, there’s certainly danger coming. Real danger.”

“I don’t need a power to be telling you that,” said Rila then turned eyes directly on me. “You, I’ve heard you have strength. Is it close strength or far strength? Like a throwing spear or a knife?”

“It’s easier for me to fight farther, but close works as well,” I answered, matching the authority of her voice. “I’ll be much more effective if I can stay back and aim.”

“Top of the wall for you. And you?” She pointed at Lucio.

“Top of the wall for me!” he said. “I’m great for distractions; just let me know when and where.”

“When you hear the horns, keep any stragglers from getting too close to the wall. Our Vibrants need to be as unhindered as possible as they form our material defenses,” she commanded, then turned to Slugger.

“What about you?”

“Aye, I’d be best in the fray; just give me your biggest club you’ve got,” he answered, and Rila nodded as she looked him over.

“You’re to join the final defense at the wall base, behind the Transients.” Then she turned to Arial. “And you, make sure nothing comes from above or behind. You circle the battle and watch. You are my eyes, and should we need it, our sting.”

She tossed a spear to Arial, who caught it, her hands shifting along its length as she struggled to find a way to hold it.

“Um, thanks,” she said, finding a balance and waving it with her right hand.

“It’s more for your self-defense and intimidation than anything,” instructed Rila, and adjusted Arial’s grip. “But should you need it, the pointed end for killing, the blunted end for shepherding.”

“Shepherding?” Arial asked, turning her head to one side.

“For prisoners and hostages,” answered Rila bluntly. “Should there be survivors.”

“What about those Deathguards?” asked Slugger. “How come they’re not coming? Seems like they pack a punch.”

“They’re the last defense, and they protect the great tree. In all the war history I’ve studied, we’ve only used them once. Long ago, when the battle turned against us and we were left with no choice.”

“Seems like it would be a quick way for things to end,” said Slugger. “Better than risking lives.”

“With destruction comes damage,” answered Rila. “When we fight, we minimize the damage, we lessen its impact on nature. When you have an orchard, and there is a thief, you do not set fire to the orchard to drive him out. And now, we wait for our thief to arrive, to remove him without damage.”

“Unless they try to lay siege to you,” I said. “How long could you survive then?”

“Even if we could not access the other side, we grow our own food. Our water comes as rain. I do not think we have to worry about a siege. They do not know the forest, so it is them who will run short on food and water. Besides, that one does not seem the patient sort—even if a siege were to be successful, he would not wait the months it would take. And we have been waiting here as long as I can remember.”

“True, you have a point there. He’s not patient, not at all.” I said, remembering how he had ripped up the sewers to chase me, or how he had four specials powering his boat. “But he’s not stupid either.”

“And neither are we,” Rila answered. “As I said, when Lola studied the outside world, I studied the ways of war. My grandmother was wise to balance us.”

By now, we had reached the top of the wall, taking the same elevator stalks as before. Vibrants passed through the thorns as if they were swimming, popping in and out of the mess to make small adjustments. Soldiers walked the top in a hardened path, as fresh spears grew into their outstretched hands. But most impressive was the change in the grounds below.

Where there had been jungle only hours before, the ground was now thick with fortifications. Living trees bent outwards like porcupine quills, their tops sharpened to charred points, glinting with a liquid I assumed to be poison. The roots carved out large swaths of dirt before retreating, leaving ditches that would fill with water upon the first rain, but were still difficult to traverse when dry since thorns now grew thick within. Cicadas buzzed from the trees a quarter mile away, a dull hum from our vantage point, but enough to drown out instructions of advancing troops, hindering their communications.

Beside me, Arial stretched her calves by standing on her heels, gazing towards the sky and gripping the spear. She looked at me before lifting off, and I took her hand as she glided into the air.

“Here we make a deal,” she said and put a stern finger on my nose. “Neither of us does anything stupid. Got it?”

“At least not without the other,” I said with a smile. Ever since Aetia had spoken to her, a piece of Arial felt like it was returning. Maybe it was confidence, or maybe it was the Paint.

“I suppose that’s the best I can ask for. So it’s a deal,” she said, letting our fingers shift apart as she rose steadily into the sky, and my hand trailed down to her ankle, then felt only air as she accelerated high above, her hair streaming behind her until she became no larger than the leaves that hid her from sight.

Chapter 95

The attack came at dawn.

For her part, Aetia delivered coffee to the troops at four in the morning, setting the cups before each along with encouraging words whispered in ears. Lucio and I had been taking turns napping, one of us remaining on full alert while the other rested. But even awake, we knew our eyes were no match for the yellow-eyed sentry wearing the blue paint that perched next to us, his pupils fully dilated as he named his familiar warriors a hundred feet away in the darkness without squinting.

We were both awake when Aetia reached us and set two steaming cups before us.

“To sharpen your senses,” she said, the warmth seeping into our bones. “We’ll want you to be ready. Be careful out there, dearies— so long as they stay outside our walls, we have won the battle. That is what you must defend, the wall. And oh, I just remembered!” she exclaimed, picking up Lucio’s cup. “Four scoops of honey for you! I’d never forget that much of a sweet tooth!”

Lucio accepted the cup from her, his eyebrows scrunching together as they locked eyes. She smiled, and he bit his tongue, taking a sip to validate her and nodding in approval. In moments, she was gone, and we waited atop the wall, each of us drinking and staring into the blackness below. If figures moved, they were unknown to us, and the only sounds reaching our ears were the hooting of owls paired with the mysterious rustlings from the within the wall far below.

“You know, something’s not right,” said Lucio in a hushed tone after he was sure Aetia had departed. “I don’t like it.”

“And what’s that?” I asked. “You mean besides us sitting on top of a bubble of thorns, in the middle of the jungle, with a tribe chock full of weird Specials? Not like this place is that normal.”

“Yes, besides that. Though Lola’s home isn’t as scary as I thought. It’s more, I don’t know, solid. Not as ghosty as I expected.”

“At least the parts we see of it,” I answered.

“Exactly!” he exclaimed. “That’s what I’m worried about. You know, what we don’t see. There’s something I noticed. Something weird, SC. Real weird.”

“I’m sure—” I started, then paused as a pair of yellow eyes next to us swiveled up into the sky, and Arial came barreling down, nearly carving a hole in the wall as she landed.

“They’re coming!” she exclaimed through exhausted breaths, and the yellow eyes bobbed as their owner nodded. Then he trilled, his voice imitating birds in a series of notes that was repeated over and over throughout Rila’s forces, and the warriors entered high alert. Arial spoke, rapidly covering what was occurring.

Throughout the night, she had reported in every hour—Lacit was camped just over a mile away, with a stream at their right and a cliff at their back. She could see two hundred torches in the darkness, along with a handful of bonfires that illuminated the cliff face, casting dark shadows that loomed upwards against the rock. As the hours crawled by, the torches continued to burn, and the shadows waited, standing still as if they were sentries.

As Arial returned to check, she realized that the pose held by a group in front of a fire only danced in accordance with the flames. Swooping lower, she discovered why they had been so still. Not because they were on guard, or attention, or sleeping.

But because they were scarecrows.

She returned as quick as she could fly, scanning the forest below but seeing nothing, hoping that she had not been too late. And now, atop the wall, the yellow-eyed man spoke, his words difficult to understand since the Speaker of Tongues’ power was diminished at a distance.

“Four hundred yards out,” he said. “They move quickly but not silently. They are camouflaged poorly; they stand out strong. But still they approach.”

And for a second, I actually saw him squint as he scanned side to side.

“All of them.”

Chapter 96

When they charged, enough sunlight peeked over the horizon to reveal their faces, but not enough to diminish their powers. Behind them all, Lacit stood with his hands raised as if conducting an orchestra, willing them forwards to do his bidding. Sparky led the center, blue coronas discharging from his forearms as he built up energy with each step, the lightning crackling in a growing sheath around his body. On his left, the fiery henchman sprinted, tongues of flame licking up in each of his footsteps, two fireballs building in intensity from each of his palms. And Blake took the right, his diamond skin fully deployed, capturing a mix of red and blue and sunlight that shimmered like lances of light among the fallen leaves.

At least fifty others streamed behind each, and from my vantage point, I could see the silver rings wrapped around their fingers, their variety of powers starting to activate. For an instant, I looked down at my and Lucio’s hands, at the spot where our own would be if we had never escaped the academy. Perhaps we would be among their ranks now, helping them charge behind Blake.

They met no resistance for the first hundred yards, then the next hundred, crashing through the undergrowth with no heed to its warning of their approach. A battle cry started through their ranks, first thin but growing as they trampled unchallenged, the path before them devoid of any obstacles at that distance. Their confidence soared, triumphant smiles already appearing across their faces as they tasted victory.

When they were a mere hundred paces from the wall, reality split with a sound like thunder, the ground quaking with the eruption of chaos. Trunks trumpeted as the herd of mastodons exploded through from the other side just in front of the oncoming soldiers, each mounted by a masked warrior as they crashed into the oncoming Specials. Enormous tusks swept left and right, launching bodies to the side as they plowed through the shocked invaders, scattering them like feathers in a pillow fight.

Lola and Rila led the onslaught, each crouched atop the two largest mastodons, barreling through the tip of the charge—and though Lola was valiant, even from our distance, I could tell that her skill was far outmatched by Rila’s. Each held a spear they used to ward off approaching Specials, the dagger-like tip enough to dissuade any from coming too close. From directly in front, Sparky pointed to Lola, sending an electrical impulse snaking through the air towards her. My heart slowed as she turned to face it, her eyes narrowing as it bent towards her heart in a fatal strike. But just before they collided, she flickered from existence, dodging the energy as it passed through her and burst into the canopy far above, igniting the branches. Then Sparky dove to the side, ivory cutting through his shirt as he rolled, narrowly avoiding a slice through his neck.

But others were not so lucky.

Blake stood his ground as a mastodon beelined towards him, slicing a thin ribbon of tusk away as it swiped at him. With a bellow, the beast reared on its two hind legs, trunk curling up and away, then brought its two front legs down upon him. It screamed as his razor-sharp limbs cut into the bottom of its feet, but its weight was already bearing down, instantly compressing him until he crumpled into the earth. It trampled again before storming off, leaving him behind as a glitter spot in the mud, no higher than a manhole cover.

But as soon as it moved on, Blake’s arm shot upwards, pulling himself out of the hold and back to his feet, unfolding his filthy limbs and dusting himself in the enormous footprint left behind.

No longer than ten seconds after they arrived, the beasts winked from existence, their trumpeting and stomping receding with them to the other side and leaving behind Lacit’s shocked army. Though they were scattered, they were far from broken, even the injured rising to attack once more. With an angry whistle from Lacit, they regrouped, several Specials with fire abilities stepping forwards to create a wall of flames for momentary shielding.

But what caught my eye was not staggering outliers or the line of embers. Rather, a group of four stood in a circle near the edge of their ranks, their arms held before them and their faces strained, ignoring all that occurred around them. Nearby, a messenger broke away, sprinting towards Lacit to draw his attention as they maintained their pose, hardly daring to breathe. His head snapped upwards as soon as he heard the voice, and his eyes glinted as he found the group of four waiting, their muscles trembling and sweat running down their faces.

“Oh no you don’t,” I whispered, feeling space warp as I prepared two black orbs and turned to a Vibrant guarding the wall on my right. “You! I need a path down to there, where they’re huddling! As quick as you can!”

With a flick of her wrist, a vine leapt upwards from the wall, wrapping itself around my forearm and constricting to form a strong grip.

“Jump!” she shouted as the vine tightened and I felt my breath catch in my throat. I looked downwards to the ground several stories below, then back at the vine, which looked like it would snap under the weight of someone half my size.

“Go! Jump!” she shouted again, waving me forwards as the vine bristled. Closing my eyes, my heart pounding, I leapt forwards, my fist latching around the vine as I soared through the air. The strand whipped above me, the wave dashing me forwards nearly fifty feet as I entered a controlled fall, my eyes opening again as the sound of rushing wind filled my ears. I touched down just short of the circled group, the vine cracking apart as soon as I met the dirt, and it rapidly died to prevent anyone from scaling it back up the wall.

Barely visible from my vantage point on the wall, I had suspected what the gathered Specials were conspiring more than I could see it. But here, the hairline mark of shimmering darkness that marked the passage into the other side at their focal point could not be mistaken.

A portal they had held open as the mastodons retreated, and waited for Lacit.

Chapter 97

With the momentum of my fall, I had rolled forwards, coming up on one knee with my palm facing outwards. Four heads snapped towards me as I released a black orb into their midst, detonating it right beneath the sliver of darkness they surrounded. With a flash, they staggered backwards, caught off guard by the sudden explosion, just as the portal slammed shut with the sound of a snapping rope.

“It’s not going to be that easy!” I challenged, arming myself with another dark orb and looking back to the way I had come. While leaping here had been simple, I was now on the enemy side of the wall. And with the mastodons gone, I realized something else, a thought that jolted through my mind with a shock.

I was the only one on the other side of the wall. And just moments ago, the messenger had reached Lacit.

He was coming, while I was surrounded and heavily outnumbered by his army.

I turned to run, hoping the Vibrants would open a new passage for me as I arrived, but felt the ground in front of me stir. No, not the ground—rather, space itself shifted, as if it were being tested, stretched. I lurched to one side as a flurry of twigs and leaves rushed past me, coalescing around a point that curved rapidly up and away before colliding with a tree trunk. Another bundle ripped past me, and I felt it pulling at my skin as it travelled, the hairs on my arm tracking it as I realized what they were.

Force points. But not my force points.

I reeled on them as all four raised their hands, and the ground shuddered as a single thought rushed through my head.

Mimics.

Mimics who had first used their powers to hold open the portal to the other side, and now used it to absorb my own powers and use them against me.

Shock rushed through me, my jaw slightly open—when Darian had taken my power, it was given. It felt like sharing or lending something away, with the expectation that it would return. But this was far different—it felt violating. It felt stolen.

The ground lurched again, and I felt my feet rising as the gravity around me shifted and I was pulled upwards by several different force points circling above my head. My shock turned to defiance as I dropped a fist, slamming the distortions in space back down with enough veracity to make them stagger backwards. I dropped to the earth as they recovered, two splitting left and two splitting right in an effort to surround me.

They raised their hands again, but I was prepared, knowing that, like Darian, they would be weaker than me. And I could only hope that with the novelty of a power they had never used, they would be four times weaker.

But only two threw force points towards me, the gravitational drains serving to divert my attention as I countered them, easily controlling their path. Two more force points came, and I started to strain, feeling like I was being pinned down by my own power. That simply warding off my own attacks took almost all my attention.

And that was when I remembered Mimics held a quiver of powers at their disposal.

A mix of fire and lightning shot out from either side of me, and I dodged, throwing up two black orbs to absorb the energy. Flame spiraled into one, the red competing with the darkness, while blue sparks spasmed around the edge of the other. Light fighting darkness, and bent space fighting gravity.

I clenched my teeth as the Mimics circled, unable to move as they refused to let up, sneers forming on their mouths as they knew they had me trapped. For a second, I dropped my fight over gravity to try to launch an offense and immediately started floating upwards—and trying to drop my other defenses brought the flames and electricity dangerously close. While they were not winning, we had reached a stalemate.

But that was all they needed.

Only twenty yards away, Lacit approached, turning the ring on his finger as his smile trumped their sneers.

“I have to thank you,” he said, pausing outside of my reach. The light spilled over onto his face—a band of red and blue, separated by a vertical line of darkness that ran directly down his nose, as if it were ripping him in two. “This place is far deeper than I imagined. It was your smell that brought us here—perhaps, without it, we never would have reached the city at all.”

“Last I checked, you still hadn’t reached it,” I said through gritted teeth.

“Ah, but that is a simple matter of time. Meanwhile, I have you.” He laughed, then took another step forward. “Containing the mighty has always been a problem; it’s so much easier to bend their minds than their powers, just like the others who join our army. Each day, we grow in number, each day, we grow stronger. But now, with the help of four others, your power is contained. You have bowed. And your mind—well, we have the best for that. Siri won’t be locked away forever, and what relish she will take in showing you the light. ”

“Oh, is that what you call it?” I retorted back, my voice strained. “I’d rather keep my eyes shut.”

His hand went to the ring on his finger once more, and he tapped it as he spoke.

“There was a time when I was like you. I resisted as well, back when things were murky in my own mind. But sometimes, you have to be cut before you can heal. Surgeries require incisions.” His fingers then reached upwards, tracing the scar that wound along his face to his throat. “When I met Siri, long ago, she gave me this with my own fingernail. So I could remember what she cut out of me, she said. And she stopped me just before I reached the artery, just before I took my life. It was she who kept me alive, and it was love back then, young love, the type that never truly leaves your memory. ”

His eyes drifted as his fingers reached the end of the scar, and he spoke almost absent-mindedly.

“And with the singing, you forget everything else that used to matter.”

Chapter 98

My breath caught as I took in his words, and as I stared as his face, I caught a reflection of myself in the steel grey of his eyes. Without my friends at the academy, that could have been me. I shuddered, realizing that if he had his way, I would be competing against Blake to become the next Lacit, the next perfect citizen.

Now, pinned down beneath the combination of powers that could hold me even without Lacit’s leering gaze, I faced that fear head on.

“Now, here’s what is going to happen,” said Lacit, his voice low, deadly. “I came to the jungle expecting to leave with one weapon, using troops loaned to me by those above. And now they will be so pleased that I have two. You’re going to be retrained, rebuilt, stronger than you can imagine. With you, we’ll do more than change the world—we’ll raze it, so we can create it anew.”

My eyes widened as I thrashed, but the movement allowed the fire and electricity closer, and destabilized the balance of gravity holding me in place, only locking me tighter under the Mimic’s control. I turned my head, searching for others to help, but they were far away, guarding the wall—by rushing the enemy, I’d effectively created a void between us. And the enemy had filled that void like a wave, leaving me as an island stranded among violent waters.

Lacit reached a hand, and the earth that was already under low gravity buckled, a trapezoidal chunk of it the size of a car lifting upwards and carrying me with it. Around me, the four Mimics started walking with him, keeping me tethered as he departed the battle, heading to somewhere he could keep me contained. Perhaps there was a Special waiting to put me to sleep, or to paralyze me, or nullify my powers in another way until the battle was over. Or maybe he would rely on the four Mimics keeping me pinned—in which case, I had a chance.

“What you see here is only a fraction of our strength,” said Lacit as his forces clashed again with the mastodons that tore through their lines. But this time, his forces anticipated the attack, and one of the great beasts crashed to the earth, one of its legs breaking with a crunch from a Special swinging a tree trunk like a club. Atop its back, the Transient leapt into the awaiting army, attacking twice before disappearing into the other side, her enraged screams ripping through the battle. And where she had fallen, the army advanced.

“You see, these are the new recruits, those from the academies across the world, cultivated at a rate slow enough that their disappearances are acceptable by society. A child here, a child there—with no parents, who is to notice? And the others, those that the police force so eagerly accepted among their ranks as easy labor, they lie dormant. But not just them—there are those existing in the government. In the universities. Everywhere from the lowly sewer worker to the investment banker. All waiting for our call, all prepared to act. Highest esteemed are those who came to us by their own intuition—those who I hoped you could be, the ones who saw the light of their own accord. Who did not have to be retaught, reconditioned.”

We had reached the back of his army, two Healers parting to allow us to pass, their fingers trailing along one of the Mimics that held me to instantly stitch together scrapes I had inflicted along his temple.

“What is it that you want here, then?” I asked, flaring one of the dark orbs on my left to drag a passing thorn bush across the freshly healed mimic, his lips pursing in annoyance as the cuts reopened. “Why travel all this way for a tribe separated from the rest of humanity?”

“Those that control the powers control the world. It’s that simple, and a theme that has dominated history. We play the long, slow game—we take the young Specials in who have nowhere else to go. But so long as there are the powerful to oppose us, that’s not enough. We must capture the locations too, we must monopolize the strongest abilities until only we hold them. What makes this location unique is only a starting point—and with it, our next wave of Specials twenty years from now will be unstoppable.”

“Hah! Your best plan is going to take twenty years? No wonder you’ve gotten nothing done!” I snapped back, but my voice was thin. If they were prepared to fight twenty years, then they were dedicated indeed.

“After we’re finished burning, someone has to sweep up the ashes. We’ll need the reinforcements,” he said, his voice too calm, staring back at me. And I realized what he meant. One year to destroy. Nineteen to rebuild.

“Here, this area shall work!” he declared just as we reached the far edge of the troops, near a rocky boulder outcrop that jagged from the forest floor at the base of a hill. He set my mound down, then stretched a hand towards the boulders, dropping six around me with only fine gaps between them, slivers of light peeking through the cracks. Above them, he settled the largest boulder, far outsized compared to the others, the entire structure groaning and rocking as it settled.

“This is a house of cards, build from boulders,” he said to me, stepping back to admire his work. “Move any of these six pillars, weaken them at all, and the top comes crashing down before you can move. For now, it is perfectly balanced—but so much as trying to drill into the boulder above you is enough to destabilize the entire structure. And if you try to dig, well…” He turned to the two Mimics with the fire and electric powers. “If he digs, I want there to be no difference between him and the dirt before I come back.”

They nodded, and my heart fell as I examined my cage, feeling the rock shift again under a slight poke from him to illustrate his point. Trapped, I could either try to escape at the risk of killing myself or I could wait until the end of the battle to make a stand. Or maybe, with luck, I could create a hole large enough for me to pass through above me, assuming that moving the orbs holding the electricity and fire at bay did not kill me instantly.

But there was one other option. I could make a final stand—I could take out the Mimics he was using to enter the other side with one final strike, one that certainly meant my death. If they were his only Mimics, that would foil his plans, and maybe I could even take him with me with enough surprise.

I gathered my power, preparing to strike the moment that he turned his back, and tears flooded to my eyes as I thought about what I was leaving behind. Arial, somewhere high above me, whose hand my closed fist had memorized. Darian, trapped high above, and in peril no matter the outcome of the battle. Lucio, who would have to return the news to my mother. And Lola, who if my plan failed, would fail her entire tribe.

I funneled the doubt and anger as the dark orbs swelled in size, drawing in wind, the structure shaking. As my thoughts turned to violence, Larissa’s face floated in front of me, and at that moment, I no longer felt the guilt at having taken her arm—rather, I felt a vague sense of regret that I had let it hold me back. That perhaps if I had put that event behind me quicker, I would have grown stronger. That I could have been strong enough to match Lacit in an outright battle.

I screamed as I prepared to fling my orbs outwards, then froze, realizing that I was not the only voice that screamed. That there was another approaching, one filled with even more rage than mine, with not the energy of a trapped rat but an attacking predator.

And as a ripple of orange and white stripes rushed past the cracks in the stone, I understood the words, just as Ennia collided with Lacit.

“For Lilac!”

Chapter 99

“Nobody hurts my creations! That wing is going to take weeks to heal!” she screeched as he was thrown backwards, and the Mimics’ attention were torn from me, their stunned faces tracking her as Lacit swiftly recovered. With a flick of his finger, dozens rock shards leapt towards her like arrowheads, but she threw her hands downwards, her tiger roaring as the air itself morphed to porous bone that absorbed the impact.

With the Mimics’ attention diverted, I threw my orbs upwards in a single motion, crashing them together as I stretched space itself, my thoughts turning to the same sheet of blackness I had produced when Lacit tried to shoot us out of the air. With a ripple, it crackled into existence, pulverizing the rock into dust as it rushed upwards, then exploded in a reverberation that shook the earth. A negative wave of force hit me with the flash, dragging me upwards nearly six feet before I could stabilize it, but the nearby Mimics were not nearly so lucky.

The shifting gravitational field launched them upwards like a trampoline, their limbs flailing as they crashed into the branches high above, clinging to the greenery with white knuckles while their legs dangled below, their feet searching for purchase on nothing but air. Even with my power, they would not be coming back to the earth easily.

True to Lacit’s word, the stone prison crumbled around me, and I leapt left to avoid a rolling boulder that careened past, rocking into a divot it created in the soil. Above, three jagged rocks slammed together to form a tripod, while a final monolith clipped me in the shoulder, sending me reeling as I jumped away from the wreckage. I landed on my side on the forest floor, my teeth clacking together with the impact, my face turned to see Ennia as she strode forwards against Lacit.

With a laugh, he swiped downwards, and two trees cracked, slashing towards Ennia in a mighty cross with her at the center. Her tiger darted backwards, but it was not quick enough—the shadows of the trees had already found their mark, and the rest was sure to follow. From behind Ennia, another figure stepped forwards, one I didn’t recognize but wore the same Blender robes as her, his hands catching the descending trunks. The instant of contact, the wood jellified into water, sloshing down over Ennia with no impact as she turned to the offensive once more, and I climbed back to my feet.

On the other side of her, another robed figure darted forwards, raising his hands to the branches high above, where the leaves turned to emeralds, their weight parting them from the branches in a rain of razor gemstones. Before Lacit noticed the transformation, a single leaf slashed down his forearm, leaving a crimson line of blood on his skin. A mar more on pride than body.

His fingers curled as the remaining gems froze in midair, orienting themselves towards Ennia shooting like possessed arrowheads. In an instant, I stepped forwards, launching two fresh dark orbs into the onslaught, absorbing the projectiles before ripping them towards Lacit. He caught them, and with a flash, they exploded, but this time, he was ready, his strength overpowering the shockwave and sending it reverberating back towards us.

Then he drew himself to his full height, throwing his hands downwards as he pulled in a sharp breath. Trees around us shattered, erupting into splinters as long as my forearm, spinning as they were whipped around us. Like a tornado they whirled, cutting the three of us off from the outside world, moving too quickly to blend and too much matter for me to destroy. Just barely visible through the whistling wreckage, Lacit leered, his face contorted in rage, his scar a bright purple.

As the shards raced about us, the internal cone shrank tighter, and the debris formed the image of Lacit’s own face in front of us, laughing with molars of bark and eyes of pulp, the teeth gnashing as we huddled towards the center, ready to be impaled.

But just as the first bits of debris started to catch on my sleeve, tearing through the fabric like a rotary saw, another person lunged out of the forest. Unlike the blenders, or myself, or any other special I had seen, he used no projectile to attack Lacit.

Rather, he punched him square across the temple.

The tornado disbanded, arcs slamming into the trees to embed the splinters, mulching the ground in a fifty-foot radius. Lacit turned to ace his new attacker, his eye already starting to swell as the man’s fists raised once more to prepare for a second assault. He bounced on the balls of his feet, challenging Lacit, his face turned away from us. Streaks of paint covered him as he lunged again, aiming a second blow at Lacit’s stomach, but Lacit only sneered, reaching leftwards with his power to pull a flat piece of stone in front of him in protection.

But the stone, a mere ten feet away, did not leap at his call. Rather, it quivered, as if deliberating, considering staying right where it was. Then it moved a single inch before settling back down, like a defiant dog straining at the end of its leash, as the man’s fist sank deep into Lacit’s gut.

Chapter 100

Lacit’s mouth fell open—though from the defiant stone or from the blow that drove the shocked breath from his lips, I could not tell. In a panic, he reached upwards again, this time to tear another tree down upon his attacker, but the tall trunk barely bent, the tip turning to stare down in defiance before straightening up again. His eyes went wide as his attacker stiffened for the third punch, the man’s weight shifting in a fluid motion that spoke of someone with years of fighting experience.

Before the blow could land, a crackle sounded from the branches far above as one of the Mimics launched a lightning strike, the bolt arcing down towards the newcomer with enough force to kill. By instinct, he hurled himself to the side, crashing through the bushes in a roll that left the plants behind him charred. In that instant, Lacit recovered, his face still drawn, staring at his hands. With a quick glance, he evaluated the four of us standing there, then back the rustling bushes, before turning on his heel to flee.

“Vegetarian tigers will still eat people!” shouted Ennia after him as I looked around the clearing for the man whose face I had not seen, before she turned to me. “And don’t think you’re off the hook either! When she found her way home, she was half dead!”

Barely two trees stood where there had once been a dozen, and the ground was a mixture of scorch marks, fresh mulch, and broken boulders. I had time only for a few moments of staring before Zeke arrived from where Ennia had come, holding a machete with several suspiciously deep nocks from use along the blade.

“Where the hell have you been?” I demanded as he careened past us. “And who the hell was that?”

“That? That was nobody,” he said, his voice low enough to be a growl and in a tone that asserted there was nothing left to be said. “And I was getting you help. Ennia here did not take the news of her tiger’s injury lightly and nearly came to kill you instead. Besides, you should know by now, boy, that I don’t like to be killed. Inside the tree fort? Good chance of getting killed. Battling that insanity? Greater chance of getting killed. And now? Now it’s our best chance at getting killed.”

“Best chance? Don’t you mean worst chance?” I asked, staring at the bushes where the intruder had disappeared but never returned.

“I mean best, as in take out a life insurance policy, but this is unavoidable. Now, you know the drill—in my footsteps! The four of you, don’t stray off. We’re going to need to be quick.” He started forwards, and Ennia paused atop her tiger, which I now realized was Lilac, and had orange gauze strapped across the wounded wing.

“You heard him!” I snapped at her as she glared, her hand still on the wounded beast’s side. “Let’s go, keep up!”

I darted after him, feeling the tiger’s hot breath on my heels, and hearing the footsteps of the two other Blenders. Zeke quickly turned at a right angle, directly back towards Lola’s tribe and through the frenzy of battle. Before us, over a hundred Specials stood, their powers activated, each advancing on the wall.

Their attention was focused on their attack, not expecting an intrusion from behind.

And we had a Survivalist guiding our steps.

Chapter 101

Zeke darted into the crowd, grabbing the shoulder of a Special spewing a torrent of wind and wrenching him over his outstretched foot as we passed. He aimed the man, channeling his flow of air to blast a path through the crowd like a firehose at a riot, blasting a path through. Without a moment’s hesitation, we took advantage of the opening, threading through before Zeke took a sidestep, sliding leftwards as a spray of rocks from the wall landed like meteors next to us and sprayed dirt upwards in rooster-tailed flares. One narrowly missed Ennia, and she reached a hand down to calm Lilac, whose bright eyes blazed like rage-filled beacons.

Zeke’s erratic movements tacked back and forth across the sea of powers, each driving us closer at an angle to the wall, and narrowly missing certain death on more occasions than I could notice. In a living train, we jumped forward ten paces, then sidestepped to the right to avoid a blast of ice from a nearby Blizzarder. As soon as the passage cleared, we traversed the frozen ground until we butted against a Laseret beaming rays of cauterizing light towards the walls. With a sharp jab to the ribs, Zeke left her gasping as we ducked beneath the lightshow, only to be met with an individual who pulled up mounds of earth by the handful, converting them to magma in their palms and lobbing them like brimstone-filled snowballs towards the wall. With a touch from a Blender, the ground around him turned to jade, swallowing up his feet and removing his ammunition source in a single strike.

These were only the Specials who noticed us, but there were far more—groups of Mimics that scoured the field searching for portals to the other side to keep open, Quakers who attacked the footing under mastodon’s feet, and Flamethrowers who kept a constant stream of fire on the wall in an ongoing battle against Lola’s Vibrants. Concussers directed shockwaves at the top of the walls where Rila’s sentries prowled, picking off anyone who came too close with ranged powers, while Fielders erected glowing fortifications to defend the advancing troops.

It was chaos, the sort of chaos that would be impossible to navigate without a Survivalist.

And even then, we still stumbled into a pitfall.

Zeke dropped to the ground as electricity arced over us, blue light flashing as I felt my skin prickle and hair stand on end. We followed just in time, narrowly missing brunt of the bolt, only the outlying corona reaching my muscles to make them spasm with the discharge. I spat dirt out of my mouth as I leapt back to my feet, my eyes narrowing as I saw Sparky advancing, drawing his hand back for another strike.

Behind me, the others recovered, and we were close to the wall—only a few seconds’ sprint would bring them to within range to rescue, and since we were at the front lines, no one stood in opposition. To escape, they’d only need a few seconds of distraction—a few seconds I knew I could provide.

As Sparky crackled, even his eyes turning blue with the force of his next strike, I charged, a dark orb held high in my hand. His eyes widened as I tackled him, using my power to draw the electricity out of him, the gravitational force so strong that his cheeks rippled as they were pulled forwards. My shoulder drove into his stomach, and I felt his breath being driven from him as we fell together, his hands searching for purchase on the back of my shirt. Using my own momentum, he threw me over his back, flipping me in a somersault that sent me crashing against a nearby tree trunk. Dazed, I threw the orb I used to collect his electrical force back at him, the strike going wide—something about it felt different, as if it were lopsided, and it wobbled as it narrowly missed him.

Two seconds later, the orb exploded, releasing violent blue light that sprayed outwards in an energetic bubble before breaking into a wave. Every special within twenty feet fell, spasming as the light rolled over them, as the electrical potential contained in the orb rushing through their nervous systems entered a mad race to reunite with the ground. Across the battlefield, faces turned, drawn in by the impossible-to-ignore flashing beacon that had struck down so many of their comrades.

In a wave, they poured forwards, replacing each of the fallen with two more bodies, their powers activating as they advanced. With a quick look behind me, I breathed a sigh of relief as Zeke and the others reached the wall, the plants parting to engulf them and allow them through. Lilac met my eyes and roared, the sound managing to stall the onslaught for a half second of hesitation.

Setting my jaw, I snapped my fingers, throwing down my hands as two black orbs erupted into being, warping the world around them as they fed upon leaves and dirt. This time, they would not take me alive. They would not force me to serve them. And if they killed me, I would not be dying alone.

But then the leader of the crowd, a man just slightly older than a boy with angry rings of red plasma swarming up his arms, froze in his tracks. His eyes traveled to the ground as he leapt right, shrieking as he released a bout of plasma that clung like jelly to anything it touched. To his left, another Special backpedaled rapidly, dark spikes leaping from her fingertips to embed themselves into the earth. One fell backwards, squealing as he backpedaled, his eyes filled with fright at the earth. Around them the others followed, jumping from side to side as fear flashed across their faces to match the confusion across mine.

Taking advantage of the diversion, I started to sprint towards the wall, colliding with Sparky before I had taken two steps. In the confusion, he had circled behind me, and now his fingers gripped deep in my hair and tight around my sleeve, holding me tight as his electrical energy coursed through me. My muscles seized, my power refusing to listen as my jaw clenched, pain arcing up my spine as I smelled my hair burning. Even my lungs refused to cooperate as they expelled my breath from my chest, and the electrical energy doubled as I entered a silent scream.

“Finally taking what you’re due!” he shouted, his eyes still glowing deep blue, and electricity leaping off the tips of his teeth.

With a final jolt, the energy dissipated and dropped to me knees as Sparky released me, my shins biting into exposed roots. But somewhere in my consciousness, as I regained control over my body and thoughts, I heard a deep thwack. In front of me, a shape swam into focus, contour lines slowly distinguishing it from the backdrop of green wall behind. My eyes still watering, I blinked, first making out the curling brunette hair that framed a flawless face, then the intelligent brown eyes filled with concern. She was in a fighting stance, her left foot slightly farther forwards than her right, and the spear in her hand still with the butt forwards from where the shaft had connected with Sparky’s head before he crumpled to the ground in front of me.

“Looks like Rila was right; the butt end is good for shepherding,” she declared, my hearing returning before my sight.

With another blink, the details came further into focus, my mouth drying and heart beating faster as she rushed forwards to embrace me. Then we rose from the ground, streaking upwards into the air to leave the fight far below us, circling in a spiral to surmount the wall.

And I wasn’t sure if I was more grateful for her embrace or the escape.

Chapter 102

A scream of rage sounded in the battle as I reached the top of the wall, and my eyes connected with the source, a shimmering collection of jagged diamond edges that watched me escape. But for now, I was safe as Arial set me down gently, breathing deeply to recover as I looked over myself. Red burns emanated from the places Sparky had gripped me, branding his fingertips into the skin, but aside from the occasional muscle spasm, the damage seemed fleeting.

“We agreed,” said Arial, touching a finger to my nose before flicking my burn hard enough to make me yelp, “that neither of us would do something stupid without the other. How many times am I going to have to save you before you start thinking twice about suicide missions?”

“When it comes to quick thinking, I’m a slow learner,” I groaned, stretching to bring flexibility back to my body as it stubbornly resisted movement. “But I had to—Lacit would have made it to the other side if I didn’t intervene. He had a squad of Mimics holding a gate open, and there wasn’t time to rally a force.”

Arial sighed before putting a hand under my chin and forcing my gaze into her own, her stare enough to silence my words as her eyes pulled me in.

“Look,” she said. “This is bigger than Lacit. We can’t afford to lose you; I can’t afford to lose you. Sometimes, that might mean we give a little ground. That we suffer a loss to win in the long term. Because every time you do this, you rely too strongly on fate, and fate doesn’t care about you like I do. Eventually, it will fail you.”

“But if he wins, who knows what will happen?” I said. “We can’t risk that either.”

“But we can wait until we can face it together,” she said and leaned forwards, her lips reaching mine as a shiver shot up my spine, my cheeks burned, and I felt a stronger shock than Sparky could ever deliver.

“Hey, lovebirds!” came a shout from beside us, and Arial broke away, practically leaping back up into the air in embarrassment as she smoothed dust off her shirt. Lucio laughed as he approached, holding the video camera in his hands, the lens aimed at us.

“Lucio, I swear, if you caught that on tape, your precious camera is going over the wall,” threatened Arial, and his face turned white as his knuckles clutched the strap.

“What? No, I didn’t catch that on tape!” he exclaimed, backing slightly away. “I caught something way better! The action scene of all action scenes right here—I got it all: SC, the splinter tornado, the Blending, the escape, all of it. Absolutely incredible footage. We just have to figure out how to doctor it up so you look more like Darian from afar, since he’s the main character.”

“Is that all you’ve been doing up here, filming?” I asked, my voice demanding.

“What? No! I just got you out of that mess. I think you owe me a thank you for driving off an entire troop of Specials single-handedly.”

“He’s right,” said the yellow-eyed sentry from earlier, appearing beside Lucio. “He’s turned away anyone coming close enough to the wall to cause damage.”

“Oh, and how might that be?” I asked, remembering how the plasma-powered man had balked when he was about to attack and instead had directed his powers into the ground, and the others had fled for no apparent reason.

“Trapdoor spiders!” said Lucio with a hint of pride. “Rather nightmarish memories of them eating one of their friends right in front of them. Anyone coming close enough remembers enormous spiders the size of mastodons hiding just under the leaves to drag them under. And trust me, they all seem terrified of spiders. I mean, who isn’t?”

“Trapdoor spiders?” asked the sentry, his eyebrow arched, the translation imperfect.

“A variety that stays hidden underground before jumping out and dragging prey away,” said Arial.

“Ah yes,” said the sentry, nodding in all seriousness. “Perhaps we should have brought those out sooner. We typically save them for later on.”

“Wait,” said Lucio, his face paling. “You actually have them the size of mastodons?”

“Oh no, no.” The sentry laughed. “Of course not; that would be ridiculous. They get no larger than a horse.”

Lucio sputtered, choking on his own words as the sentry winked at Arial. But their conversation was lost on me as I stared back over the battle, following the glittering shape of Blake in the distance. There, he had rendezvoused with Lacit, and the two huddled, speaking to a third person that I could just barely recognize. One who had certainly not kept her disdain of Aetia and Lola a secret during the tribe council meetings, and whose amber beads were visible even from a distance.

And who now drew her finger across open space, creating a rift just in front of Lacit.

“You ready?” I said, reaching out to take Arial’s hand in my own just as Lacit and Waela stepped through to the other side, leaving Blake in command of the army.

“Ready for what?” she asked, her head cocking to one side when she followed my gaze and saw nothing.

“Let’s do something stupid together.”

Chapter 103

We found Lola at the center of the wall, Rila beside her and a handful of advisers clustered around them. A bruise splotched across one cheek, while one of her hands was bandaged, though that didn’t stop her from gripping her spear. They watched far below as the tribespeople fought, Rila barking out orders while Lola tempered them with knowledge of the outside world.

“Prepare another strike for the left flank,” commanded Rila. “We need to minimize the space that they can attack the wall, so our Vibrants can keep it from crumbling.”

“Wait, not just yet,” interrupted Lola, pointing towards the right. “See those? Those are called Furnaces. They’re nonexistent here, but that group alone could incinerate a tunnel through the wall of their own volition. If there is anywhere we should focus eliminating, it should be the right flank.”

Rila squinted then spoke. “Confirmed, right flank. I want chaos more than anything else—they’re dealing with high amounts of firepower, but nearly no discipline. Get them firing without hesitation, get them hitting each other, sew discord in their ranks. Our greatest advantage is their weaknesses, in that they expected us to be unorganized savages.”

Behind her, an advisor passed the message to a runner that relayed it to the mastodon unit. Below, Transients winked in and out of existence in a flurry of motion that kept the approaching Specials at bay, for fear of the spear tips that threaded through reality like sewing needles.

“Lola!” I said, breaking into the conversation to steal their attention. “We have a bigger problem.”

“A bigger problem than someone breaking through the wall?” she asked, her eyes still below, tracking the movements of the troops.

“The same problem,” I answered as both her and Rila’s heads whipped towards me. “It’s Lacit—he’s entered the other side.”

“He’s what? How?” Lola demanded, drawing a sharp breath, her body already starting to turn transparent.

“Waela,” I said, “She’s let him in, opened up a hole for him to waltz right through.”

“Traitor, of course she would,” hissed Lola. “Smart play; she thinks she can usurp us using him. But with all the Deathguards defending the interior, he won’t last long.”

“Uh, you sure about that?” asked Lucio, wincing as he looked past her.

“Even their strongest wouldn’t last long against them,” Rila answered. “He wouldn’t stand a chance, crushed like a bug under a boulder.”

“Right, if they were there,” continued Lucio, and pointed down below, where a stream of dark-robed individuals had just exited through the wall. Lola’s face whitened, and she cursed in her native tongue before turning to her sister.

“And of course she would direct the Deathguards to the battle beforehand. I’m such an idiot! I’m going inside; do you have the battle managed? Keep the Deathguards reined in! It’s supposed to be too early for them to strike, and we’ll want to wear those Mimics down beforehand. It would take an exceptionally strong one to capture a Deathguard, but I don’t want to risk it.”

“Not a problem. With their help, the outer battle is easily won.” said Rila, her eyes narrowing. “We’ll scare them off more than do damage.”

“Good,” answered Lola, then started to shimmer, but not before I caught her arm.

“Wait!” I said. “If you’re going inside, you’re going to need help. We’re coming with you.”

She hesitated, looking to Rila, but she shrugged.

“They’re Painted now, aren’t they?” she said. “They have every right to go. As Grandmother said, they walk among us.”

“Just know that Lacit isn’t the only dangerous thing where we are going,” said Lola to us. “And whatever you do, don’t touch it.”

“Touch what?” Asked Arial.

“You’ll know. You’ll absolutely know,” Lola responded, then turned to Rila. “Send the Deathguards after us as fast as you can. And if I don’t come back, you need to pull these two out.”

“Of course you’ll come back. We still have a fight after this battle,” Rila said with a smile.

“No, let me reiterate,” said Lola, clasping her sister’s arms. “When I don’t come back, you need to pull them out.”

Rila’s eyes widened, then she nodded, her expression knowing.

“Of course. But without any goodbyes?”

“I said them when I left last time,” answered Lola as she took our hands in our own. “Besides, the goodbyes would only be for them, not for me. Now, Arial, drift us downwards at a forty-five! And, Lucio, protect my sister, or I’m stranding you on the other side!”

Together, we leapt from the wall, Arial providing enough force to let us mimic a falling leaf. And with our hands in hers, Lola pulled us from our world, and into another.

One far darker.

Chapter 104

I’ve heard howling—in the rainforest, we’d experienced it at night. In the slums of the city, dogs laying stake to alleyways would still raise their heads to cry at the moon before slinking into the shadows. And in battle, I’d heard the howling of people in combat, blinded by rage as they blasted powers at each other, as if their voices could intensify the destruction spreading from their fingertips.

But I’d never felt howling.

It came as a blow, vibrating my bones as it passed through me, as if the earth itself shivered. Wind coursed around me like a cold current, thick with dark particulate that made me cough as I breathed in, but otherwise, the world remained soundless. Raising a hand to catch the snow-like substance, I rubbed it between my fingers, the trail of grey betraying its nature.

Ash.

I coughed again, my eyes adjusting to the swirling darkness, tears forming from the stinging acidity of the air, watching as the ash circumscribed a single point far ahead. Blinking, I could just make out a blackness darker than any around me—not an absence of brightness, but an active consumer, one so dark that I could feel it pulling the very light from my eyes while casting suffocating nets of shadow over us.

And instinctually, I knew it was what Lacit sought.

“What—what is that?” I breathed, feeling Arial shake next to me. And instead of Lola’s voice, I heard her answer.

“Death,” she breathed, the whites of her eyes like beacons in the storm as we marched forwards.

“How did you know that?” snapped Lola, turning sharply to face Arial.

“Because it all makes sense. Everything, all the pieces fit. And you’re not the only one with half a wit around here, Lola.”

“Then one of you explain it to me, because apparently, I’m the odd one out,” I said, eyeing the darkness warily as its form came into focus. An enormous tree, one the exact same shape as the center of Lola’s village.

“As I’ve stated,” Lola started as we started walking towards the tree, and it felt as if we were wading in a river, against the flow of water. “The other side and this world form a reaction to each other. Where there is natural light here, there is darkness there. Heat to cold. And the longer a difference exists, the longer it is cultivated, the stronger the reaction.

“To understand this, think about when the two sides are similar. If I were to start a fire here, and a fire there—well, without intervention, the wouldn’t go out—or it would go out very slowly. It’s this intertwining that made Peregrine’s teleportation stable and rare, through a mixing of existence on both sides that kept each other in equilibrium. But if I were to start a fire on only one side, the other would slowly grow icy and cold as the worlds start to push apart, reacting against each other. For instance, on the other side, the arctic is a form of scorching desert, and magma is similar to freezing springs. Even now, if you look to the battle, you can already see frost forming from the actions of the enemy Flamethrowers.”

“Exactly,” said Arial, her voice accusatory she pointed towards the dark tree ahead. “And what they’ve done here is devise a bioweapon.”

“Devise, no,” corrected Lola, squinting to search for the forms of Lacit and Waela, her expression concerned. “But discover, yes. Prune, grow, and perfect, yes.”

“I still don’t get it,” I said, starting as I thought I saw dark forms and realized it was only a momentary coalescence of ash, my skin prickling. “What is it?”

“Here in the Amazon, we have the greatest degree of life on earth,” answered Lola. “We took that life, and we amplified it. Our Vibrants poured it back into the forest, they fertilized our massive tree, they built gardens in its roots and harbored an ecosystem that has existed for thousands of years. And with time, the other side reacted, building a resistance to their efforts. A resistance to life itself, fighting against all that we are.”

“Death,” concluded Arial once more, and Lola nodded.

“Pure death, only accessible by the hands of a Transient, in this location. For our defense, of course—for at its roots, our greatest soldiers, the Deathguards, are born. And Lacit has come here for one of the tree’s seeds.”

Chapter 105

“There!” shouted Arial and took our hands once more. Then she jumped forwards, dragging us behind her as we soared behind her in a giant leap, bounding through the darkness. And far ahead, I could just barely make out their silhouettes—two figures with ash that split around them like wakes, billowing out in an enormous triangle that marked their presence.

Our feet met the ground and Arial bounded ahead again, light as a feather, carrying us another hundred yards forwards. Instinctively, two dark orbs leapt into my fists, rapidly swelling as they consumed the flying ash. At the end of the second bound, Arial released Lola, leaping once more to carry me in full racing flight above Lacit, and I fired the orbs as we had trained.

He sensed them an instant before they struck him, throwing up a protective Telekenetic barrier that caught one and deflected the other, though the explosions still knocked Waela clean off her feet. Arial looped around as I generated two more orbs, catching my breath from creating them so quickly, and we hovered fifty feet in front of Lacit, between him and the tree. Behind, Lola sprinted to cover the right flank to prevent circumvention, her body shimmering as she watched both worlds at the same time.

“Three versus two,” stated Lacit. “Your numbers are significantly less than last time, and your cumulative powers are weaker. Do you really intend to stop me here?” He nodded to Lola, and said in a voice so casual, it sounded like he was discussing dinner. “I’ll kill her first, you know. Then the Flyer. Then you, of course. With this, I no longer have need of you—surely, this can cause far more destruction than you ever could. It’s greater than I imagined.”

“Which is all you seem to care about,” I shouted back, letting my orbs grow in power. “Destruction.”

“Oh, but the contrary. But a forest must burn before it is regrown. Burning is, after all, a part of nature. There is debris to clear. We’ve been over this, child, and I’m growing weary of explaining.”

“You can’t just remove whoever you don’t like.” I answered, the orbs growing heavy. I’d need to make them as massive as possible for the biggest explosion, to stave him off until help arrived. Until the Deathguard returned.

“Ah, but I can,” he said and stepped forwards while Arial glided backwards, keeping our distance constant. “But I won’t. As I’m sure you have guessed, that tree behind you will kill at a mere touch—as a powder, I alone could eliminate entire cities with my power. But more importantly, I think of the powers of those born under it. I am one, but they are many. As I said, however, we won’t be killing those I don’t like—actually, liking has nothing to do with it. We’ll kill plenty I do like.”

“Then you’re a maniac,” spat Arial behind me.

“Look around you! Does any of this look normal? We’re all maniacs here!” He laughed, his voice shrill and unchecked, “But no, I learned, long ago, there are those too weak to defend themselves. When my father was laid to waste by powers and couldn’t raise a finger to defend himself, but I walked out unscathed. The strong survive, yet the weak suffer. But why should we let them suffer? Why should we spend our resources on their life support, their pain? Why not just end it all for them, in one glorious act of mercy?”

Chills ran down my spine, though whether it was the proximity of the tree or Lacit’s words that caused it, I did not know.

“The powerless,” I said, my heart thumping. “That’s your plan? To kill the powerless?”

“The weak,” he answered, his lip curling. “The powerless are but a few. Imagine a world where all are high powered, where all are self-sufficient. It’s simple Darwinism—why not accelerate it? Why let them suffer at the hands of their own inadequacy? Sooner or later, they will die—I am simply the doctor with the morphine to ease them into it. In the past, they’ve had protectors, powerful protectors who would stand against us. But few will stare down death for the life of another. And those that do, is that not their weakness? For they too will be struck down.”

“Then you’ll need to start with me,” I said, raising the orbs.

“And me!” echoed both Arial and Lola.

And far above us, there was a mighty crack accompanied by a flash as a figure drifted down, streamers of multicolored light erupting off his skin to follow him. Something about him whined as he came closer, like a mosquito or grinding of gears, and the light erupted off his skin like solar flares, arcing out sporadically with no control. Throwing his hands down, two more dark orbs popped into existence at his fists, and he fixed Lacit with a defiant stare while descending next to Lola.

“And me,” declared Darian, having finally broken through to the other side.

Chapter 106

“Just how many of these can you fend off?” challenged Darian, tossing a dark sphere into the air. There was something wrong with it—it fizzed, the surface almost boiling, feeling like a static wave across space. It reminded me of Peregrine’s machine in the subway, the same feeling of nausea pulling at my stomach, unsettling me. My thoughts raced as I studied him, knowing full well that Darian had never been able to generate dark spheres on his own in the past, and certainly shouldn’t be able to fly while doing so. But I pushed the thoughts away, focusing on Lacit, whose eyes were scanning the ground.

“Not many projectiles for you to use, eh?” Darian continued, a physical pulse extending away from him as he flexed, and Arial instinctively floated a few feet farther away.

“What’s going on with him?” she hissed, shaking slightly. Even she could sense it—something wrong.

“Can’t say,” I answered, allowing myself a quick sideways glance to see the colors still streaming off his skin like steam. “It feels—It feels broken.”

“Then we should help him,” she insisted, and we drifted closer, but I grabbed her wrist tight, bending her arm to steer her backwards.

“Not just broken, but dangerous. And dangerous might be just what we need right now.”

Ahead, Lacit had stopped, his eyes narrowing as he stared at Darian, his nose wrinkling in distaste.

“A mere Mimic,” he insulted. “I have armies of Mimics, most can’t even stand to be around me. You’ll burn yourself out. Already I can see you unwinding.”

A crease came across Lacit’s forehead, and he closed his eyes for a moment, as if struggling with a thought. But then he shook his head to clear it and laughed, his knowing voice cutting through the air.

“But you have no idea what you’ve done, do you? I’ll offer you the same as the freak,” he nodded towards me, “since you’re a freak now as well. You have two choices—we fight or you join me. Are you tired of going hungry? Of second-rate services, of always coming last? You’re always following him, aren’t you—and you’ll always be that if you stay, a follower, a repeater, a shadow. This is your chance to become your own person, not a mere copy of something greater.”

Darian looked as if he had been struck and bristled before Lola stepped up from behind him.

“Is this always your strategy when you’re scared?” she demanded. “I’ve read about this, I know as well as you about this phenomenon, fractonis essentia. At least your reaction is appropriate; you should be terrified.”

She turned intangible for a moment as a particularly bright arc of light burst from Darian, cutting through where she had been only a moment before, then she pulled his shirt forwards in a charge. Darian threw his spheres, and they crackled as they soared, sounding more like a string of firecrackers than the usual stick of dynamite. Arial and I followed, and I launched my own, so heavy that we lurched as I released them.

Four explosions erupted around Lacit as he crossed his arms and raised them, the light searing his skin but rebounding away from him in bands of violent dark energy. With a roar that made the arteries on his neck bulge, he hurled them at Darian in a vortex faster than a baseball pitch, a whirling torpedo that distorted space itself. Instinctively, Darian drew a breath before crossing his own arms, taking in Lacit’s own power as the energy broke apart in a wake around him, but the distortions in space still bringing him to a stagger. Then he threw his arms forwards, and the parted dark streams wheeled to form a crosshairs on Lacit, who dissipated the energy just before it reached its mark.

Every muscle in Darian’s body strained, every vein popped, his eyes open so wide it looked like they were about to leap from his head. With a concerted effort, he lowered his arms, the arcs of light jumping from his so bright it hurt to look at him, and to stand at his side, Lola had to remain semi-transparent.

“You think you can contain my power?” sneered Lacit. “This power has broken many others before you.”

“Then it’s time it breaks you!” Darian yelled, his voice cracking, throwing his shoulders back as he strode forwards.

“Oh, but it already has,” answered Lacit and met his challenge.

Chapter 107

As Darian approached, I threw two force points far ahead of him in the same tactics the Mimics had used on me only an hour before. Swaying, Lacit started to rise into the air, the bent space throwing him off balance. But then he threw his hand downwards, and I felt the pressure of his will combined with his power as he anchored himself to the ground, his heels dropping with a thud. His focus divided, he turned to Darian with newfound intensity, while Lola charged at Waela behind him, her spear outstretched.

“Traitor!” she shouted, taking a jab, but Waela flickered away, reappearing with both arms on the spear. With an elbow, she jabbed at Lola, meeting nothing but air, before Lola reemerged with a kick to her shins. She cried out, pulling as she tripped Lola, both of them falling to the ground as Lola spun to regain the advantage, pressing down from above her.

Beside them, Darian and Lacit fought, trading blows from the dwindling remaining energy of any dark orbs. I hesitated to throw any more, knowing it would only fuel the fight as they snatched them from the air after they left my control. But so long as I held tight to the orbs, Lacit’s power could latch hold of the matter at the center of the projectiles, but not the curvature of space that created and manipulated them.

“Darian, left!” I shouted as Arial and I careened downwards, and I released one of the force points while simultaneously generating a dark orb. He darted, and I bowled it towards Lacit as he staggered with the sudden change of gravity. Raising a hand, he burst the orb apart, stopping the dust inside it only as the bent space rushed past him. Then he directed the dust into Darian’s face, the particles like a miniature shotgun blast that blinded him as Lacit recovered.

The ground split apart as Lacit flexed his power, deep cracks running away from him a spiderweb that shattered the earth. With a curl, he yanked shards of ground free, the material spinning in an orbit around him before slashing it at Darian. But on the other side, the dirt bore none of the characteristics of our world—those pieces that Darian could not deflect bounced away like foam, their construct light and airy, leaving no more damage than a pillow. And each time Darian utilized Lacit’s power, he shone like a small star, the buzzing turning so loud, I nearly had to cover my ears.

"Enough!" shouted Lacit as the chunks of fluff were pelted back at him, knocking harmlessly off his chest and legs. Fury filled his eyes as he spread his hands wide, the fingers curling at the tips. Around us, the ash stopped swirling, the air stilled, and the world waited.

Then the ash rushed outwards, obeying Lacit in a torrent as it covered every inch of our bodies, the flakes coating our skin in a thick layer of dust. I coughed, a plume of grey exploding from my mouth, wiping it from my eyelids with two fingers. And as my vision returned, my feet left the ground.

Together, we rose upwards, each of us carried by thousands of mites of dust propelled by Lacit’s power. He clenched his fingers, and they contracted, forming a sheath as they forced our arms to our sides and our legs straight, his power still strong since it controlled not us, but the matter around us. From the side of my eyes, I could just see Darian, light flashing as he struggled to rip the particles away, but new ones rapidly replaced each that burned off. For Lola, the momentary distraction was enough for Waela to wrest the spear away from her, holding the tip against her upper rib cage.

I pushed against the dust, but it was like wading through molasses—as one area yielded, the others tightened, rendering any advance useless. Using my power pulled at my skin just as hard as the dust, meaning that if one was coming off, the other was coming with it. Beside me, Arial tried to fly away, but her movements turned erratic, as if she were traveling through a storm, and she pitched dangerously close to the ground.

“And now,” announced Lacit, waving his arms like a puppet master, “we proceed.”

He marched forwards, each of us moving with him as if on a tether, deflecting any ranged attacks that managed to break through at him. As we drew closer to the tree, I felt terror building inside me—the dread of rustling on a dark night, or a lost child, or the moments just before an unavoidable automobile accident. Fear spiked with adrenaline that made my skin itch, my heart race, and teeth chatter.

We were close now—so close I could feel the frigidity of the air around the trunk and see the wisps of light disappearing as they dissolved into the bark. Ice started to form at the tips of my hair, and with every breath, I leaked energy, as if I were losing my very soul itself.

“Now all we need is a seed,” said Lacit, casting his eyes far above. “Fortunately, I have you to search for me. I personally wouldn’t want to touch it.”

He started to raise Arial, and she squirmed, knocking off a layer of dust but not nearly enough to slow his flight. With each jerk, he brought her closer to the tree, closer to the life-sapping force that held us as strongly as his power.

But then a voice spoke, one from the base of the trunk as a small figure stepped forwards, holding a dark object in her nearly translucent hand.

“I believe this is what you came searching for,” said Aetia, holding out a pitch black acorn. “Now take it and go—but do so with peace.”

Chapter 108

“In peace? It’s always those who have the disadvantage that want peace,” cursed Lacit, casting us upwards like trophies far out of reach.

“We should all strive for peace,” Aetia countered and took another step forward, the acorn still pinched between her forefinger and thumb. Even from above, I could see dark lines extending away from it into her skin, radiating out and up her forearm, growing slightly thicker with each passing moment. For now, her skin showed the transparency of a Transient to hold them at bay—but the moment was passing rapidly. Several steps behind her, the same yellow-painted girl who had welcomed us into the Worldwalkers waited, her head down as her power translated the exchange and kept her distance.

Lacit jerked his chin and Aetia’s hand leapt forward, but just before letting it go, the acorn turned completely transparent beyond his control, then flickered back, teasing Lacit with its tantalizingly close proximity.

“No, no, dearie,” reprimanded Aetia, slowly walking forwards towards Lacit. “It’s been a few hundred years since we’ve traded with the outside world, but I still remember that’s not how they are conducted.”

“All of them for a single seed?” rebutted Lacit, but he too kept walking towards her, his eyes glued to it. “You must think I’m a fool.”

“Why yes, of course I do,” she replied, the distance between them now only a dozen steps. “But that has no bearing upon this negotiation.”

“If I release them, then I have no guaranteed escape. Your people will try to kill me on the spot.”

“Perhaps,” she said then paused, offering up her next words like bait. “But not if I come with you instead.”

“Grandmother, no!” shouted Lola from where she was restrained, but Aetia ignored her. Lacit paused, his eyes narrowing.

“And you won’t try to escape or to harm me?”

“I’ll neither flee nor raise a finger against you,” she answered. “But drop them, now. Or the offer is rescinded.”

Bounding forwards in two quick leaps, Lacit wrapped an arm around Aetia’s neck, his elbow just over her windpipe. He whipped his other arm in a circular motion and we were blown back, tumbling through the air in a somersaults before crashing to the ground, the softer earth absorbing the impact like a mattress. When we stood, Lacit’s other hand held Aetia’s wrist, just short of the acorn, allowing her to still hold it and absorb its effects.

“Try to fight and she dies!” he shouted, backing away rapidly and tightening his grip on her windpipe so her heels dragged behind them. “I won’t make it quick. I’ll savor it.”

“Grandmother!” shouted Lola again, but held back by Waela, her face raised in triumph. And when Lacit squeezed even tighter, Lola froze, biting her lip.

So tight was Lacit’s hold, that Aetia’s words were almost muted. But the other side was so quiet that the sound carried, as we heard the whisper as if it were in our own ears.

“Something you should learn, young man, is that a true leader is a servant,” she said, not resisting as he continued to drag her. “A true leader does not break the weakest links in the chain. No, rather he re-forges them. He gives them a reason to be strong.”

Lacit glanced at Waela then motioned her nearby, speaking to her as he ignored Aetia.

“Waela, I want a portal just outside the bramble wall to rejoin with the army.”

“And for your end of the deal?” Waela asked, following beside him after pushing Lola to the ground.

“You’ll be left with more than a few high-powered Specials for your little coup,” he said as her eyes gleamed. “Keep them as you wish; they belong to you. A token of our gratitude.”

“A good leader also listens,” croaked Aetia, continuing to speak. “But a great leader—”

“A great leader doesn’t lose the battle and become the ticket for her enemy to escape,” retorted Lacit. “You’re not in the position to lecture, old woman.”

“But I am, little one. I’d like to leave you with a final lesson, and you never let me finish,” she said then turned her head towards him, the black lines of death now intermingling with the wrinkles stretched taut across her face. “A great leader is not afraid to die for her people. Rather, she embraces it.”

At that sentence, Lacit froze, his face whitening as he met her gaze. But then he saw the movement from the massive tree trunk, as ten black figures split from where they had hidden behind it, their masks concealing their faces, their dark clothes allowing them to blend in. One by one, they raised their palms, their stances widening, waiting for the command.

“What?” he shouted, his voice disbelieving, his head whipping to Waela. “You were supposed to divert them! They’re not supposed to be here!”

But words failed her as the three of them stood in the path of the Deathguards, and it was only Aetia who spoke, her voice lacking any fear.

“Though I have lived many lifetimes, I do not fear death. I welcome it. I do not fight, I do not flee.”

Then she turned her gaze to the Deathguards, authority in her voice.

“I choose it.”

Shrieks erupted not from them but from daggers of black that rushed from their palms, death itself consuming all before it in a scourge. They carved ruts into the dirt, thorn bushes withering as hellish flames consumed them, and the spear that Lola had dropped on the ground instantly shriveled, the grains of wood peeling away, steam hissing as it escaped from its surface.

Aetia faced the onslaught with determination, but Lacit and Waela screamed, their voices thin and reedy compared to the power before them. Their flesh disintegrated instantly, leaving behind bare bones that sank to knees that were rapidly stripped of cartilage, Lacit’s hands still raised in a futile attempt to deflect. Then even the skeletons disintegrated, turning to powder as the black current blasted them, pressure washing any form of life from their forms. Even at a distance, I could feel the cold terror of the power, a foreboding so strong that I reeled backwards from emotional shock.

All this occurred in a handful of seconds, and where Lacit had stood, there was nothing but a scar—even the ash avoided the area, and the world seemed to throb as if a painful wound had been cut into reality itself. One by one, the Deathguards lowered their palms, their reaction impossible to see. And though I could no longer see her, I heard a single sob from Lola, accompanied by her voice so thin that it was intangible as she.

“Our terrible weapon.”

Chapter 109

“Report,” commanded Rila, her voice harsh, her frame draped in the dark fabric of mourning.

We stood bleary-eyed at the roots of the great tree, muscles sore and dirt covering nearly every inch of our bodies. Behind us, tents were filled with those seeking treatment for injuries, and Slugger’s arm was in a makeshift sling accompanied by a leafy green poultice, though he joined us in standing with the rest of the Worldwalker leaders. Of fatalities, they were rare—in a battle designed primarily for theft, few on either side was willing to risk death, but the broken bones and lacerations abounded in amounts that strained the capacity of their limited healers.

After Lacit’s fall, Arial, Darian, and I stood alone in the barren landscape of the other side, the silent Deathguards keeping a close watch on us as they surrounded the tree once more. Unlike us, they seemed immune to its effects, even touching the tree with their bare skin. They answered no questions, and with two Transients dead and Lola missing from the scene, we waited for rescue.

Hours passed, each crawling by slower than the next. After having absorbed Lacit’s power, Darian could do little more than sit and had completely lost the ability of Transients. Around him, the arcs of light faded away, leaving scorch marks on his forearms but little other indication that they had ever been there. He held a hand to his head to soothe a pounding headache, while Arial and I paced, our anxiety peaking as we imagined the raging battle outside, which may as well have been a thousand miles away.

Then, on the third hour, a fissure opened in space, and Rila stepped through, the wildness of her hair outmatched only by her eyes. By now, the outer layer of our skin felt as if it had succumbed forever to cold, and our lungs burned from the air—so stepping back into the actual world was akin to entering a paradise. Waves of heat played over us, while the air restored our breathing patterns, Rila filled us in on the happenings of battle.

Before departing to the other side, the Deathguards had dealt a strike through the center of Lacit’s army, splitting it in half. At the appearance of the power, and without their leader, they broke formation—by the time the Deathguards disappeared for our aid, Rila was ready to corral those few that were left and chase the others off deep into the jungle. No captives were permitted, so survivors fled to the eastern caves and kept under watch, and few seemed eager to return anywhere near the village. Better to try their lives in the jungle than to risk another attack, and several sought the mountains, where they could wave down the rescue aircraft that were supposed to retrieve them after they had won the battle.

“Report. Nuit, I want to know what happened,” commanded Rila again, and one of the Deathguards stepped forwards from their ranks about the tree, speaking in a subdued voice that echoed the screams of their power.

“When we arrived, the outsiders had fought valiantly. It is they who protected our secret for so long, and the other side accepted one among them who led the charge.”

“It accepted him?” implored Rila, raising an eyebrow. “Explain.”

“He walked between worlds on his own, and he was found worthy,” came the response from Nuit. “By nature, he is among the Painted.”

“By character as well,” announced Rila then looked over the assembly. “Let it be known that Darian not only was permitted onto sacred ground, but also laid down his life for our defense. As leader of the warriors, I declare him to be Painted. Should anyone object, they should speak now—else it is done.”

Silence emanated around the roots, and many bent their heads in respect for Darian before the Rila motioned for the report to continue.

“But against a power so great, even they fell,” Nuit proclaimed. “They were bound, and the intruder desecrated sacred ground with his presence. Only then did Lola step forwards to counter him alone. And as a sacrifice, she placed her life down for her people, taking the intruder and the traitor with her.”

“Wait,” interjected Darian, refusing to stop at Rila’s sharp look. “That’s not at all what happened. It was Aetia who offered herself up.”

“It has been many a year since I have witnessed the effects of fractonis essentia,” came a wizened voice behind us, and our mouths fell open as Aetia hobbled into view, her form unblemished and looking as if she had been far from the battle itself. “And I ask for forgiveness on the part of our hero. For you see, the condition arises from breaking oneself, from straining a power so strongly that part of the essence is ripped from the soul, creating a new parity between the two. That the being is partly reborn and remolded, and in the process, artifacts as fragile as memories are easily corrupted. You must rest, child—and I assure you, we will address any of your concerns soon.”

“But you—you died?” stammered Darian, his mouth open.

“Dearie, I am here before you. Please do not make my granddaughter's passing more difficult than it needs to be.”

“How?” whispered Arial, her voice so low that only I could hear her. But I had no answer as Aetia strode to stand next to Rila, leaning on her cane and stepping slightly behind to give her precedence. A living ghost.

“We have suffered many great losses,” Aetia continued, taking control of the assembly. “But we have survived, and we will emerge stronger. Though I only saw my granddaughter again for a brief intermission, I rejoice at having even those moments, as I once thought she might have been lost forever without so much as a farewell.”

She dabbed a tear from her eye, and I saw Lucio cocking his head to the side, squinting at her. But he said nothing as Aetia continued, her voice renewed.

“But as we grieve, let us too celebrate. For this hero is to receive our highest accolades, and as I step down, your new queen is to be coronated.”

Chapter 110

The crowd at the roots dispersed to share the news of the upcoming coronation and embark on preparations. But we stayed behind as Aetia’s sad smile found us.

A smile as if she actually believed Lola was dead.

Beside me, Darian shifted nervously.

“What’s going on? Where’s Lola?” he demanded, striding up to her. “I didn’t just see what happened; they did too! Right?”

He looked around at us, and I nodded, speaking up.

“He isn’t crazy, and we know something is going on.”

“The forest has many secrets,” replied Aetia, pursing her lips. “And you have already learned several of them, but there are always more.”

“You can keep your secrets,” Darian said, his eyebrows coming together. “Just tell us what you did with Lola.”

“As you wish,” said Aetia, and turned. “Follow me.”

Slowly, she made her way to a waiting lift, and we climbed inside, Rila joining us as the platform began to rise. We ascended quickly, stopped at a rope bridge, then edged across, walking out to a room attached to the bramble wall itself. It was larger than the others, extending in a wooden tube a hundred feet in either direction, and on close inspection revealed itself to be an enormous hollowed-out trunk that had been hoisted into the air. Aetia opened the door and we stepped inside, natural holes above us letting plenty of sunlight in, while the rest of the light was provided by luminescent vines that glowed in a combination of yellow, blue, and green.

Books lined the length of the tube on either side—some so old that they barely held their spine, others in the form of scrolls, and a tiny section near the front that bore the telltale sign of new age plastic wrapping. There were thousands of them, and between them was a length of tables for readers, and though they appeared to have good use by the ink stains on their surface, today, they were empty. Waiting at one of them was a small pot, still steaming, with several cups around it.

“I see you were waiting for us,” I said, taking a seat as Aetia joined then began pouring each of us a portion of the liquid, “Of course, with your coffee.”

“You were bound to be curious. It’s a trait among the young, and you should never lose it as you grow older. It’s just one of the things that makes my Lola so special.”

“Makes? Present tense?” pried Darian as she handed him a cup with a spoonful of honey.

“Indeed,” she answered, then handed Lucio his cup.

All this time, Lucio had been silent, but his eyes darted between Aetia and Rila constantly, as if searching them for inconsistencies. He snatched the cup away before Aetia could add the honey, holding it close to his chest, then sputtered a question before she could react.

“How many scoops do I like?” he demanded, pointing at the honeypot and spoon in her hands.

“Lucio,” interjected Darian, frustration bleeding into his voice. “Now’s not the time—”

But he stopped when he saw my raised hand as I watched Lucio’s face. This wasn’t mischievous Lucio, joking Lucio—no, this was a rare occurrence. This was serious Lucio.

“Oh, I know you have quite the sweet tooth,” Aetia answered. “Sweetest I’ve ever seen, dearie.”

“Right, but how many scoops. You remembered last time, didn’t you?” he demanded, “Like you said, sweetest you’ve ever seen.”

“Three, of course,” said Aetia, then started to dole them out, but a triumphant smile broke across Lucio’s face.

“Well, lookee here,” he announced, his voice flushed with pride. “All of you always make fun of me for not studying books, but I figured it out faster than all of you.”

“Figured what out?” asked Darian and Arial at the same time, their faces confused.

“Her secret,” proclaimed Lucio, pointing at Aetia as she continued serving the scoops. “Or should I say their secret.”

Chapter 111

“The hell are you going on about this time?” demanded Slugger while Lucio leaned back with a smug smile on his face.

“This time, I’ll take five scoops,” he said, handing his cup to Aetia, and then continued.

“The thing about my power is this—when I leave a memory with someone, they don’t forget it,” he started. “Usually, my memory is more vivid; it sticks to the top of the mind, especially when I do it in a rush. And the first time you gave us coffee, I gave you the memory that I like four scoops. But,” he said, raising a finger. “The next time I met you, you had to ask. And you gave me three scoops, not four. Your mind doesn’t feel muddled, so I ruled out dementia. So either my power wasn’t working as well as I thought or I never left the memory with you.”

“Oi, so you’re saying that your own memory is corrupted?” asked Slugger. “Wouldn’t be surprising to me. We’ve known that now for ages.”

“No, what I’m saying is that I left the memory with someone else. I left it with her sister,” Lucio said, then pointed at Aetia again. “Her twin sister.”

For a moment, we sat in stunned silence, while Aetia raised an eyebrow as grey as her hair.

“A twin?” she croaked, her voice innocent. “What would make you say that?”

“Because you’re long past the age of retirement! Looks like you had to wait a thousand years until one of your descendants had Transient twins for you to give up the crown. Lola and Rila are just the first to come along. And you chose them because they’re like you—and they’re the only ones like you.”

“Meaning?” asked Darian, still confused, just as a rift opened behind the table, and another person entered, and his face flushed with relief.

“Meaning we’re immortal. Or almost immortal,” Lola said, closing the rift behind her. “Apologies—I had an ear open from the other side. Apologies as well for my abrupt exit. It was necessary, you know, considering I don’t intend to fight my sister to the death. But for once, Lucio is right.”

“Hah! I told you so!” Lucio exclaimed. “But not just once. Go on, give your fancy science-y explanation now.”

Lola rolled her eyes then smiled when she caught Darian doing the same, before continuing, entering into a full lecture.

“As Lucio said, it has to be twins. Identical twins, to be specific, else it doesn’t work. I’ve told you before, that the other side and our world resist each other—it’s why fires go out, why ice melts, why anything changes. It’s a drive towards entropy. And aging, well, is another one of those changes. But if the other side and our reality match, then those changes cancel out.

“Long ago, my grandmother discovered something—that if she traveled to the other side, and her sister remained here, they never aged so long as they were close together. At this point, they were princesses like my sister and me—and like my sister and me, tradition dictated that only the stronger of the two of them could become queen, while the other had to be eliminated or else risk political instability. Instead, they forged a plan.”

Aetia cleared her throat at this point and stepped forwards, continuing where Lola had left off.

“Back then, the tribe was still young, and the trees were shorter, and the outside world had yet to reach us. It’s so long that my memory has grown shadows, but I still remember that day perfectly. When Tenebia and I were to fight, she feigned her death—the spear passed through her heart, an intangible heart, and after the battle, she faded to the other side. And ever since that day, we trade off—I will spend a day here, then she will take my place, and so forth. There are those who know our secret, of course—in a village where many are Transients, it’s impossible to keep such things hidden. But these are few, and loyal. Unlike other rulers, this has given us many advantages—by changing our sleep schedules, we can be present day and night. If one of us is injured or sick, the other can step in. And should we ever need to have ears in other places, it’s as simple as spending the day apart.”

Aetia stopped, and at this point, tears had reached her eyes, and she struggled to speak.

“We were prepared to pass on the throne to Lola and Rila. But we did not know that it would come so soon. Tenebia, who you have known several times without realizing it was me, was the one who gave up her life. And now, the years have finally caught up to me, and I age once more. As she died, I too am ready, though I now have no choice. And by sending Lola to view the outside world, while keeping Rila here to gain the approval of the people and methods of war, we’ve prepared them as best as possible to rule the next thousand years.”

Chapter 112

“To think, most of them have no idea,” murmured Arial next to me as we watched the procession begin. We stood together at the roots, covered in the same black robes that the Worldwalkers now wore, making us appear as if we were a sea of Deathguards. And as the casket moved through the ranks, perhaps we were.

The pallbearers strained under the load, which few knew was solid wood through the core, carved to appear to be openable from the outside. Intricate patterns of vines stretched down its length, with thick leaves forming the handles, and an orange-colored gem inlaid into the coffin to represent Lola’s paint. The wood itself was from a branch of the great tree that had fallen in a storm, though they had not expected to use it so soon.

Aetia dabbed real tears from her eyes as they lowered the coffin deep within the roots. There, long decayed, was a similar one for her sister. Only now did it bear any relevance.

“There’s something I want you to know,” Arial intoned as they slowly lowered the casket down, Aetia speaking of the memories of her granddaughter. I nodded, and Arial continued, her fingers wrapping tight around my own as she spoke, as if holding on to them for support.

“When we first came here, I was angry, though it wasn’t at you. I know I acted like it, but the Amazon—well, the Amazon is something of a sore spot in my memory. You do know why, don’t you? From my father?”

I blinked as the memory came crashing back, and my face turned red. I had completely forgotten about how Arial had obtained her power—back when we first met, her father revealed that she was to be born in a hospital in the Amazon rainforest. And that instead, she had been born on the plane ride there, giving her the relatively common power of Flight compared to the rarer and more valuable ones he sought.

“Oh, Arial, I didn’t realize,” I said, swallowing and digging my nails into my side. “I, I had no idea, I didn’t put it together. I should have known. I can’t believe I let it slip.”

“It’s okay, SC. I don’t really like to talk about it,” she said, the words thick with emotion. “But my father, he used to drop hints all the time as I grew up. About how a Transient would be far better at hide and seek than me. That even a Vibrant was more rare than a Flyer. Or that Blenders were at least useful for something. It happened every day, SC—and coming here, I was reminded of that. Of what I wasn’t. Or what he wanted me to be.”

“Arial, we wouldn’t have made you come. We could have—”

“Stop that,” she snapped as a head turned to face us, and she lowered her voice again. “You needed me here, and we both know it. No, it’s better that I came. You see, I thought when I got here, everyone would look down on me, would think their powers were superior—but it’s the opposite. Flight’s rare here; they value it over the powers my father wanted me to have. Just a few days ago, I would be ready to trade—I wanted to convince Ennia to change me the moment I knew it was a possibility. But now, I’m not so sure—I like what I have, and to Hell what my father says about it.”

I squeezed her hand, and said with a smile.

“I do too, Arial—and no matter what your father says, I don’t want you to change.”

At that moment, Aetia’s speech finished, and a line of others proceed up the aisle. Several spoke during the ceremony, their swishing language bearing melancholic tones, and my mind was brought to the falling of leaves just before winter. After fresh dirt covered the hole form the casket, several Vibrants rushed forwards, holding their hands over the mound as flowers leapt from the soil, all matching Lola’s color, and blossomed over her would-be grave.

“From death, we grow new life,” concluded Aetia after the last person spoke, then she reached upward to a clasp at her neck, which held the dark cloak in place. In unison, we did the same, the entire crowd pulling at the fastener. As one the cloaks dropped, the wave of blackness tumbling to the ground, replaced the light green cloaks of the Worldwalkers.

“And now,” said Aetia with a flourish and a wipe away of a final tear. “Our new queen.”

Chapter 113

Rila wore a robe of white as she walked up the aisle, and as she passed, the Worldwalkers dropped to a knee, their heads bowed. No adornments covered her, no ornamentation, no paint—but like her grandmother, she no longer required such things. Her presence alone sufficed.

“In over a thousand years,” her grandmother said as she stood before her, “there has been no other leader of the Worldwalkers. Know that today, you witness what many generations before you have worked towards but could never experience. Know that you see us entering into a new age, as a stronger people. Know that Rila will far surpass my own leadership and has my full blessing, as a servant to you.”

From the flowers of Lola’s grave, a yellow-painted girl rushed over, weaving the plants into a small circlet. Closing her eyes for a moment, she pressed down on the stems—and like those in the library, they began to glow, golden light racing around in faster and faster loops until is became a shimmering halo. Taking it in both hands, Aetia placed it on Rila’s head, the light eradicating all shadows about her and giving her face a holy glow.

And just for an instant, so fast I wasn’t sure if I might have mistaken it, a mirror image of her shimmered next to her, one with a halo of darkness. And I knew now, on the other side, the Deathguards were performing the same ceremony for Lola.

Before her, the crowd bowed then raised their voices in a mighty cheer, the forest itself joining in the roar as monkeys howled and birds screeched, and in the distance, I heard something roar with the ferocity of a large cat. Then even Aetia bowed before her, and Rila inclined her head—first to her grandmother, then to the crowd at large. Holding out her hand, a staff slithered from the ground under the command of a nearby Vibrant, and she tapped it three times on the roots, calling for silence.

“I am honored at this privilege,” she began, speaking her first words with confidence. “And I will serve you well, through justice and strength. Now I bring my first matter of business to the front—there were many who fought for the Worldwalkers who we will not be seeing again. Many who, like my sister, gave the ultimate sacrifice. We commemorate them and know that they will never be forgotten.”

She hung her head for a moment, then raised it once more, her voice doubling in volume.

“But there are others that are leaving us as well—those who traveled far to warn us, who were rejected by Waela the traitor, yet still fought for our cause. And among them, one who we jailed—yet who ultimately stood between us and evil. Now he receives the Paint, the first of my reign. Darian, if you’ll step forwards.”

From our right, Darian entered the aisle, his chin high, his walk far more steady after a day of recovery. Along his arms, the scorch marks stood out like warbands, and as Rila raised her hand high to mark his face, they accented the blue paint. Two strokes she left upon him, starting narrow at his cheekbones and flaring out towards his temples and into his hair in a parting path.

“You, Darian, are now a warrior among us. And as reparation for the wrongs cast upon you, we offer you one gift. You may ask it freely.”

Darian swallowed then paused, drawing a deep breath before answering.

“When I was captured, I did not have the strength to enter the other side.” The crowd gasped, but he held up his hands to silence them before continuing. “At least, not at first. On my own, of my own will, it was impossible—but I did have the strength to see through. And when I saw my own friends were approached by evil, when I saw Lola being threatened, I broke through. Your healers have advised me that this was an overextension of my power, that I didn’t just break the wall between the worlds, but something within myself as well. Something that could heal back stronger, or become entirely different.”

He cleared his throat, then continued, staring directly into her eyes.

“Rila, I need time to heal, and a place to heal. All my life, I have searched for a home, somewhere to rest my head—and now, I implore you, to allow me to stay here until I have recovered. That the broken piece grow back belonging. That I not just walk among you, but that I may be one of you. One of the Worldwalkers.”

Arial let out a sharp gasp as silence pervaded the clearing, then Rila nodded, her cane rapping on the ground once more in acceptance. On my left, Lucio rubbed his eye when he thought I wasn’t looking, then hid his emotion the best way he knew how.

“Moving in already?” he cracked, just loud enough for our group to hear him, trying to keep his voice steady. “Damn, I guess those two are serious!”

Chapter 114

“You’re sure about this?” I asked, my back to the wall separating us from the jungle, our bags packed and two Refreshers waiting. Already, the Vibrants had opened up the tunnel, and its black maw sat waiting with Zeke already inside it.

Across from me, Darian stood alone with Lola, preparing to give their farewells. Though she wore no paint, her clothing was exceptionally loose to conceal the differences in her figure to her sister, at least until her physical regimens on the other side gave her the same muscular prowess. She still kept her distance from the other members of the tribe and wore a swooping bonnet made of long woven leaves that cast her face into shadow.
“I’m sure,” said Darian, reaching over to clasp my hand in his, shaking it firmly. As we made contact, I could still feel a slight buzz underneath his skin, a misalignment or dissonance. But he reassured me with a smile, continuing to speak as he released his grip.

“I don’t mean offense by it, SC—but surely you know how I’ve been searching for a family. A tiny piece of the Amazon found me when I was born, and it gave me my power as a Mimic—I think it’s time for me to return. Besides, someone is going to have to keep an eye on the Worldwalkers in case they get in trouble again.”

He nudged Lola, and she rebuffed him, hiding a smile.

“Is that how you treat a queen?” she asked, elbowing him back. “You forget it’s we who are taking you on.”

“Right, but you need street smarts. Besides your time outside, and your collection of books, there is plenty you still don’t know about the outside world. I can help with that. And you can’t leave like I can—a queen should stay with her people, but I can be an envoy.”

“Fine,” she answered, throwing up her hands. “You win this round. Though with my sister and my arrangement, short vacations should be possible.”

“And on that subject,” I interjected, “we’ll keep the portal maintained for both of you, in case you ever need to come back. Once a month, on the first of the month, I’ll open it up should you ever need or want to return. And if it’s not open—well, I think it’s safe to assume that we have our hands full with a new problem that needs solving.”

“Should that new problem require our help,” said Lola, and now her voice bore the authority of a queen, “never hesitate to call. I must look after my people first, but if we can extend a hand, we will. We are in your debt.”

“Know if I do come calling, it’s dire,” I answered then nodded, acknowledging her. Behind me, Lucio stepped forwards, embracing Darian in a tight hug, the bigger boy taken slightly by surprise.

“You may have always searched for a family, but you’ve always been my brother,” Lucio said into his shoulder. “And I’ll always remind you how family can be annoying. This memory I’m leaving you—it’s the foulest thing I’ve ever smelt, and I just had to share it.”

Darian broke away instantly, his face contorted as he coughed and Lola laughed.

“Why do you always have to be like this?” Darian gagged. “And what was that?”

“Mastodon farts,” Lucio announced proudly. “So you’ll have plenty more of that around here with Lola’s herd. And why? Because now it’s guaranteed you’ll never forget me.”

“I never would have anyways,” Darian answered, and they embraced again. For Lola, Lucio extended a hand, and shook hers.

“And for you—well, I don’t have an award for best actress, but if I did, you would win! We’ll miss having someone smart around. For us intellectuals, it’s so difficult being among the lesser minded.”

Behind him, Arial started to inject, and he cut her off.

“It’s a joke! Fine, both of you are smart, but she’s got you on books, Arial. Better start reading up now to reach peak nerd.”

Slugger stepped forwards next, handing something to Darian that he held in his palm.

“I found this for you,” he said. “And it’s nothing special, simply a rock from the riverbed. See how it’s been cracked—it’s difficult to tell now, but over time, the water smoothed out even its roughest edges. If what the healers say is true, you’ve been cracked—take the time to smooth it out.”

“Of course I will, Slugger. And you too—I saw you on the battlefield; you had some real anger in some of those swings.”

“Aye, we all have that in us, just depends where you find it. Often that’s what causes the cracks, eh?” Slugger replied, then he winked. “But anyways, we’ll miss your calmness. You helped keep us stable and we’ll need to rebalance. You will be missed. And as for you, Lola, I thought I’d leave you with a suggestion. Find your tribe some Momentives, and you won’t just have a mastodon defense—you’ll have one that can leap a hundred yards.”

Lola laughed then answered, “I’ll be sure to pass that information on to our warriors, and we’ll be monitoring for one. Though I don’t anticipate we’ll be accepting in new foreigners soon.”

“Aye, perhaps it is for the better. Wouldn’t want to throw things off balance.”

Slugger stepped backwards, and Arial came forwards last, at first avoiding Lola’s eyes.

“Darian, without you, we would never have escaped the Academy,” she said. “ I can’t thank you enough that we were not in the army attacking today. I’ll always remember that.”

Then she drew a breath and brought herself to look at Lola.

“And Lola, your village, your grandmother, have opened my eyes. As a Flyer, it’s easy to think I can see everything—but that’s when we are most blind. But what I really missed during our time together was true friendship—and I ask now, as we part, that we might enter it.”

The words came hard off Arial’s tongue and sounded brittle—and I knew the difficulty that such humiliation took from her, like trying to bend an oak tree over in a bow. Lola returned the smile, and the two embraced as she spoke.

“Of course, Arial—and friends we always will be. As long as I may live.”

Chapter 115

The return to civilization was far quicker than our original journey.

With the help of the two Refreshers, we ran through the night, stopping once an hour to rehydrate and eat a fatty substance they produced that tasted like scoops of butter. Normally, I would grimace—but now, my body craved the calories.

Ennia joined us at the start with her Blenders, and they turned off halfway, riding their tigers back into the jungle.

“I said I’d kill you if anything happened to my creations,” she said to me. “But now I’ve seen what they stopped. And the one who hurt them paid the price. Like the Worldwalkers, there is much you don’t know of us. We keep our secrets well. But know this—should those that harmed Lilac ever stand in your way again, you know where to find us. Maybe you could even convince us to help.”

“And Lilac will remember me too, won’t you?” coaxed Lucio, petting the tiger as she purred. “Had me worried there for a second, kitty. At least we had the fishing memories together!”

“Fishing?” asked Ennia. “She’s a vegetarian.”

“Haha, joking!” said Lucio, then took off before she could say another word, the Refresher power easily letting him put distance between them.

The rest of the party left us at our boat, and Zeke untied from the mooring. We travelled downstream far faster than up, the banks sliding by without hesitation, and Zeke seemed far more relaxed. The danger, it seemed, had passed—though he did tense up as we passed the remains of the Litious, his gaze following them long after we traveled downriver.

Before leaving, Aetia had given him two trinkets to take back to his brother as payment.

“An updated version,” she had said when handing him the first—a new statue of her just recently carved. “A third to add to your collection. And second…” She accepted a bundle from a passing assistant and opened it slowly, treating the insides as if they were about to crumble. She removed three spears, their tips charred and black streaks running up their shafts, handing them to Zeke. “These three are from the first battle that announced our presence to the world. Yes, that one, where we left a mighty scar upon the jungle. I fought in it back then, and we’ve kept these preserved to remember those that led the fight against us. Now I would say they no longer indicate the appropriate threat level. Take them and care for them—oil them once a week, or that blackness will start to spread, and the wood will crumble as death consumes them.”

Now Zeke carefully kept the gifts in a locked compartment under the boat, and when we reached the city, refused to let any of us help him carry them. We spent the night with him and Leonidas, who was thrilled at the gifts, then departed early the next morning in a taxi paid for by them to the edge of the cliffs where we had arrived. One by one, Arial lifted us upwards after the taxi departed, settling us on the rock island where the portal waited while she fetched our bags, her breath coming heavy by the time she was finished.

“Alright, everyone ready?” I asked as we stood at the doorway. “We’ve got the story straight, right?”

“Right,” they chimed in together, nodding.

“And Darian and Lola are where?”

“Parents found them and picked them right up; we saw them go. Big reunion, tears shed like sprinklers, the whole shebang,” said Slugger. “And as usual, Lucio is to cover the gaps.”

“Hey now, I already did the major one,” Lucio said. “Let’s just hope she doesn’t get too suspicious.”

“It fit well with her internal narrative,” I answered. “She wanted to keep us hidden—and, you gave us a great hiding spot. Remember, Arial’s father drove us back, which is why she’s here.”

“Ugh, don’t mention my father,” she said, putting a hand up to her face. “He’s going to be irate. I’ll be locked away for months.”

“We’ll lend Lucio out,” I said. “Just remember, as soon as you see him, remind him that he told you that you could come. Lucio will do the rest.”

“We’ll see how that works,” she answered. “Logic doesn’t always apply with him.”

“Yeah, and I’m not just some sort of rental service,” added Lucio.

“It’ll at least cool the flame. Now, remember—go quietly on the return. Don’t make any noise until we’re all there, and I’ll lift you through the gate one by one. Each of you be ready with souvenirs.”

Closing my eyes, I modulated the gravity between both sides of the gate, like a water lock raising a boat. It was easier than I remembered, and though my stomach turned, induced far less nausea than before. Maybe I was getting used to it—or maybe, with all the activity over such a short term, I’d come more fully into my power.

The air inside the subway was like stepping into a wet sock—thick and cold, coupled with distant mold and heavier than that of the cliffs. I grimaced as I took my first breath, catching the smell of the city above us, the smog and sewers intertwined as they sank to our level.

Creeping around the outer edge, we snuck out of the tunnels to the surface then reentered, being sure to keep our conversations loud and voices cheerful. In moments, we rounded the corner, my mother waiting, her face dumbstruck as Lucio ran forwards to greet her.

“Oh the food, the food was awful! They only gave us three meals a day at camp!” he shouted, wrapping her up. “We need breakfast for days!”

“Only three?” she chastised then pinched the area above Lucio’s cheek. “But it does look like you’ve lost some weight. And the rest of you, how was it? Did you all learn something?”

“Boring,” said Slugger. “Aye, I spent all that time there, and what do I get? This.” He tossed an object towards her, and she caught it in her hand, flipping it over to see Happy Camper painted on the back.

“I’ll be savin’ you the trouble—it’s a pet rock. Mine won for bein’ the prettiest. Looks right like me too.”

My mother squinted down at the mess of paint and gravel, with some of Slugger’s own hair plastered on top, then laughed before wrapping us in a hug.

“I’m glad you enjoyed it, then!” she said as I hid my face, afraid it might break the lie. “A few weeks in the wilderness looks to have done you some good. I knew it was a good idea to send you away from all this.”

Chapter 116

“Shhh, quiet. Quiet!” Lucio hissed. “You two, shut up or you’re going to miss it.”

“Oh, whatever will we do?” Arial laughed, swatting my hand away from where I was tickling her. “It’s not like you haven’t made ten copies and guarded them the past week!”

“You shut it, or I’ll pull that memory I gave your father right back out of his head,” Lucio snapped, but his drumming legs betrayed his excitement.

We were seated on a long lawn, the grass stretching away from a white screen that had just finished playing and entered an intermission. Stars twinkled far above us, only the brightest making their way through the light pollution of the city, the speakers hissing from the corners as they waited for electrical input. Then the screen flickered, and a figure walked up to the podium, taking the microphone in his hands.

“It’s Director Ficher,” Lucio said, barely containing his voice. “The Director Ficher!”

“Lucio, he’s announced every movie before this one; he’s going to announce yours too,” Arial said, laughing.

“Ahhhh, he’s going to watch it from the best spot!” Lucio continued. “It’s been weeks of editing after filming, all the best scenes, the action!”

“Aye, and it’s a good thing that Lola isn’t here to see it; her head would pop if she knew you’d be showing footage of her tribe,” Slugger added. “Maybe I’ll be getting word back to her.”

“You wouldn’t. And that’s why I listed you as CGI director!” Lucio exclaimed. “You really think they’d believe footage like that? No, it’s much easier for them to think it’s fake.”

“And now,” said Director Ficher from the podium, gesturing towards the screen, and peering at a cue card as the thumping of Lucio’s legs reached a crescendo. “We have Escape to Danger Island.”

He was a small man for his larger-than-life movies, with a sharply shaved goatee, a combover to cover his bald spot, and chestnut dye to hide the grey in his hair. He squinted as the movie came to life, the film reflecting off his pupils—and instead of watching his own movie, Lucio’s gaze fell more on him. As we watched as our adventure came to life, the scenes took on a completely different meaning.

It began with the boating up the river—but Lucio’s editing had made it appear to be an ocean through clever use of angles. Together, Darian and Lola travelled through the sea, as royalty exiled for their love for one another by their rivaling families. There, they landed on Danger Island, and through the valiant efforts of Darian, won the hearts of the locals. And at the final battle, which was not at all acted but included several voice overs, they became new royalty on the island, and led it from that point forwards.

Ficher nodded as the short film came to a conclusion, and the audience clapped as the credits rolled. And I smiled to see not only Slugger was listed under CGI team, but nearly our whole group. Then the last two films played, and Ficher took the stage, holding three medals in his hands—a bronze, silver, and gold.

“There were many worthy contestants tonight,” he began as they clinked together, and Lucio leaned forwards. “And many that remind me of my own youth.”

He held an envelope and pulled the first name from it.

“Starting with third place—for a solid but straightforward story, dialogue that may need a little editing, but overall strong take—is Escape to Danger Island!”

Lucio froze in his seat as the audience applauded, and Slugger kicked him to get him moving up the aisle. He stumbled forwards, then walked pale-faced to the podium. Halfway up, he froze again, then threw his head back and entered into a strut, extending his hand with full confidence to Ficher.

“Ah, there’s the Lucio we know.” I laughed. “The showman has returned.”

“Truly good work for your age, young man,” said Ficher, draping the bronze around him. “And I must say, you’d likely have the gold if you didn’t rely so much on CGI. I perform all the stunts in my movies, and there’s something very different when it’s real. Adds another element of depth, you understand. Some of the parts of that battle—well, they just weren’t believable. Maybe tone it down a bit.”

Flashing a smile at him, and beaming out to the crowd, Lucio answered, “Oh, I understand, sir. Next time, you’ll see it!”

Chapter 117

“Lucio,” I said after we had returned to the subway. “There’s something I want you to show me. Do you still have the original edits to your movie?”

“Course,” said Lucio, who still hadn’t lost his strut, and whose voice was hoarse from the excitement. Since receiving the medal, hardly a minute had passed without his excited jabbering, coupled with complaints that first and second place hadn’t truly deserved their prize.

“I saw you had some footage of the fight with Lacit, the one where Ennia stepped in. I know it’s pretty far back, but can we review it?”

Lucio picked up the computer that he had copied the film onto and started playing it. In his frenzy of editing, little was labelled, so it took a few minutes to reach the battle, then a few minutes more to find what I wanted to see. He monitored a sound bar at the bottom and stopped when we reached the point where Lacit had whipped up a tornado of splintered trunks.

“Keep on going,” I said, but he held up a hand.

“Well, there’s something else funky here.” he said, his eyes on the sound bar. “See that? There’s a spike in sound, but I don’t hear anything out of the ordinary.”

“Maybe it’s too high-pitched?” Arial said, coming up behind us. She’d walked with us back and was preparing to leave, but this had stolen her eye first.

I stared, watching as the sound bar grew larger. It coincided near perfectly with Lacit’s tornado, reaching a crescendo just as the laughing face formed in the debris, then halting suddenly as soon as it failed. And not just the sound bar—but bits of the recorded footage flared and fuzzed with Lacit’s movements, spontaneously, in a faded pattern that I’d seen before somewhere else.

“Adjusting,” Lucio said, playing with one of the screen sliders. “And here we go.”

The high-pitched scream that came out of the monitors was far louder than we expected, nearly knocking us back. I clasped a hand over my ears as Lucio jumped to the volume knob, quickly fixing it, and listened closely as I recovered.

“Those,” said Arial slowly, her eyebrows coming together. “Those are words.”

And indeed, they were—at first, they were hard to distinguish, but as Lucio continued to adjust the sliders, I started to understand them. And I shivered, realizing what they were saying, repeating over and over in the same phrase.

Help me, the broken.

They shrieked before cutting out entirely as Lacit stopped his power. Arial covered a hand over her mouth, speaking quickly as her face lit up in recognition.

“Creepy,” I said, shivering.

“Oh, oh no. I know what this is. It makes too much sense.” Her eyes widened, and she blinked, her face showing horror.

“And?” Lucio asked. “Are you going to leave us waiting?”

“After the battle, Lola explained a bit of what happened to Darian to me—the fractonis essentia. Like she said, it’s when the power breaks within a person, splitting their aura, peeling back from their soul because it’s been overextended—and it’s often shown through a sort of distortion. For Darian, that was a form of light, and some buzzing. But Lacit, he admitted that his power had broken him before—that must have been why he was so strong, at the cost of his sanity. He must have had fractonis essentia as well, but never recovered—this is his distortion, though now it’s just a fragment of what it used to be.”

“And since he was broken,” I said, remembering his scar and the story behind it, “then it would have been all too easy for Siri to place him back together in the way she wanted, to make him the ultimate soldier.”

“Exactly,” whispered Arial as the sound bit played again, and she flinched back. “But by the sounds of it, even Lacit knew it was wrong. He knew that he was broken, deep down. But he never would have admitted it; he probably couldn’t have admitted it, so he covered it up.”

I swallowed, looking back at the image. In defending the Worldwalkers, had we aided in killing an innocent man, someone who could not control his own actions? Images of Larissa flashed through my head, and I tried to put them away before feeling a hand on my arm and meeting Arial’s eyes.

“It had to be done, SC,” she said. “It had to. The consequences were too great otherwise, and there’s no reason to feel guilty about it. He was too far gone—too twisted. There was no bringing him back. And we know he would have done the same to you, if not worse.”

I nodded then turned my eyes back to the images. I motioned Lucio to roll forwards, and I saw what I had been originally seeking.

“And pause!” I commanded as a figure came into focus. It was the man who had punched Lacit in the jaw, saving us from the tornado in the fight. The man who had stopped Lacit’s power in its tracks.

“Yeah, who was that?” Lucio asked, peering closer at the screen. “I’ve never seen a power like that—he shut Lacit right down. Is he some sort of Absorber?”

“No,” I answered. “With those, you should see some sort of effect—Lacit should have lost his strength, not just his power. And there would be flashes of light, or heat, or other excesses—the transfer of power isn’t perfect, and according to the Directory, it offgasses. I’ve been trying to figure this out, I’ve never heard of a power like this either, nor do I know who he fights for. And it’s been bothering me.”

Frame by frame, he inched the movie forwards, but the figure never turned his face. There was only his skin, covered by paint, that danced as he hit Lacit.

Or rather, now that I had a chance to look at it closer, ink. Tattoo ink, in a design that we had seen in our travels.

“The Litious,” I breathed. “He’s one of them.”

“But that’s impossible,” said Arial. “Zeke said that they don’t use powers. If he grew up among them, they would have killed him off long ago.”

“Maybe,” I said, and in my mind, I recalled the last words of Freja, the woman who had died at the fountain, as she spoke to Zeke, her final words etched in my mind.

Zeke, we learned to dance... Finally translated the old records, it was worth the years, the hope. And it was true… Find my son, Zeke. We owe you our thanks— for you showed us the way.

“Or maybe,” I continued as the tattoos on screen came into view once more, and I saw him stop Lacit’s power again, as if it were effortless. “Maybe Zeke has more secrets to tell us. Whoever that person was, he didn’t come to fight for the Worldwalkers. I didn’t see him in the battle at all afterwards. No, it looked like he came for one thing—to fight Lacit.”

“So you’re saying maybe he’s wrapped up in all this too?” asked Arial.

“Maybe.” I answered. “Maybe we’re not the only ones out there fighting them. I think it’s time we give Zeke a call. If we have allies, we should know about it.”

Then the hairs on my neck stood on end as I remembered the other words Freja had shared with Zeke, the ones that had escaped my notice the first time around.

You unlocked the cage.

END OF BOOK 2.

Keep turning the pages for the first few chapters of book 3, Titan Song!

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Titan Song, Book 3 of Star Child Places of Power, by Leonard Petracci

Chapter 1

The man walked with a limp —not from an injury, but from his left shoe, whose sole clung to life like a man hanging from the edge of a cliff. Stains streaked across his shirt, the likely culprits ketchup and mustard in the front, sweat in the pits, and a thick dusting of dirt over the remainder. His pants legs disintegrated about the ankles rather than a hemmed line, the left significantly shorter than the right, the fabric still vaguely reminiscent of denim.

The bus had dropped him only a six minutes’ walk from his destination —but those six minutes seemed the longest of his entire trip. Those six minutes were all that separated him from a bed after weeks of walking, hitchhiking, and boating north. Not just a bed, but his own bed.

He could still remember the way he made it—or rather, kept it unmade, but specifically unmade. There were the pillows that had long conformed to the shape of his head, the mattress that folded upwards to resemble a taco, the sheets that bore his own smell. But it wasn’t just his own smell that he longed for, the smell before the trek, before the body odor became nearly overpowering. It was the smell of the cotton trapped inside the comforter, mixed with the traces of oil from the processing machinery, and the invasive grass that had found their way into the mix. There was the smell of rust that coated the mattress springs, that doubled in intensity whenever he shifted and flakes sprayed off. And most important was the lack of any detergent—he hated the residue left over, of lavender and chemicals, that tried to suppress the others.

His fingers scrabbled at his key ring when he reached his door, the keys of varying sizes and shapes. More than once on his return, he had woken in a panic at the middle of the night, terrified he had left them at a station or stop, or the side of the highway. A drop of his own blood coated the end of each, so short of throwing them into the ocean, finding their scent would not be an issue, but the very thought of backtracking down south made vomit track up his throat.

With four clicks, he twisted each of the locks, sighing as the last one yielded and the door creaked open. He drew a deep breath, letting the smell of home permeate his entire being, the mix of aromas that he had cultivated so carefully. Aromas that no one else appreciated, with their children’s palates—the damp mold, the soured wine, the spices he sprinkled into carpets, and the rat droppings that scattered the floor. His heart beat in double time at that last smell—not just rat droppings, but fresh rat droppings.

“Lucy!” he cried, as the rodent turned a wary head around the kitchen corner, then loosed an excited squeak at the smell of him. For just like him, Lucy relied on smell more than any other sense, and now she bounded towards him, scrambling up his arm to playfully nip his ear. She was fatter than when he had last seen her—far fatter, her scent heavy with the bags of stale cereal he kept in the bottom cabinet. And when he investigated, he saw the neat hole chewed through the particle board, and the plastic shredded in a winding trail across the tiles.

He laid an affectionate finger across her head, the tears in his eyes propping the drooping lids open.

“Smart girl,” he whispered. “I was worried you had starved.”

He stumbled rather than walked the rest of the way to his bedroom, down a short hallway strewn with clutter, everything from laundry to paper plates to magazines. Each with a special smell he would never throw away. Each a part of his collection.

He groaned as he lay back on his bed, shifting so his shoulders found the same worn out springs, lying at a slight diagonal so that his feet could fit. All the smells he had remembered were still there, and he relished them, the muscles in his chest and back relaxing for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. His eyelids fluttered as Lucy crept into the crux of his arm, and he had only just started to snore when three sharp raps knocked on his door.

These were not the knocks of a solicitor, which were always timid, imploring. Nor were they the knocks of a collector, which came in rapid succession, and sounded more like rain against a steel drum. No, these knocks were different—heavy, powerful.

The types of knocks which, if you didn’t answer your door, they’d be replaced by a battering ram.

Three more rang out, and he forced himself not to cry as he sat up, then stumbled to his living room. He undid the latches, then opened the door, shielding his eyes to the light outside in the narrow alleyway. And cursed as he saw the three figures waiting.

“Police,” came the curt announcement, and he snarled in response.

“Oh, so you’re telling me it isn’t Halloween? Good, because I ain’t feeling friendly, and I don't have candy unless you want the chocolates Lucy left on my carpet.”

“Official business, Olef,” said Roland, the chief, as he pulled out a small envelope. “We’ve been waiting for you to return. And I’m afraid it can’t wait any longer. Except,” he continued, his nose wrinkling. “Except for a shower.”

“And lose all the smells?” Olef protested, the tears welling in his eyes once more. "But there are some I want to keep."

Chapter 2

“When the hell am I ever going to use this?” shouted Lucio in exasperation, swiping at a handheld pencil sharpener that snapped on contact with his fist, sending shavings flying in a cloud that rained down on Slugger and me. “What’s the point? Exponents, like what, I’m balancing a checkbook with exponents? That’s what your mum said this is for last time I asked, SC, and the last time I checked, exponents just look like little numbers and I want to make big money.”

“Oi, it’s not that hard,” countered Slugger from across the table, blowing the dust off his own paper, the graphite leaving curving trails across the sheet. He reached across to touch an eraser that lay between them, his fingers brushing the rubber edge as he spoke.

“Math is just takin things away,” he said, twirling his hand in a circle around the eraser as it started to float. He tapped it again to send it spinning in midair, and it accelerated again, rushing like a balloon towards the ceiling.

“And putting things back in,” he continued, and with another tap the eraser slammed back down to the desk, catching on its edge at the precisely right moment to bounce in a trajectory that caught Lucio straight on the nose.

“Ow!” he shouted, nearly toppling back on his chair. “What made you such a genius? And when the hell did you learn to float things like that?”

“Ye always knew I was a smartass. Turns out the smarts just go farther than my ass,” Slugger answered. “But math, math always made some sense to me. All just plusses and minuses at the end o’ the day. Anyway, I picked up that trick back in the jungle—watching some leaves getting caught in a dust devil. Figured out I can make something just about as weightless as air, then make the air lighter to push it around. Good craic, eh?”

“When it’s not in my face,” Lucio answered, still rubbing his nose and glowering. “Besides, if you’re such a genius, you should have given Lola a run for her money.”

“Aye, but this,” Slugger said, jabbing the tip of his pencil down on the page. “Hardly takes anything remotely like a genius, lad. This is the easy stuff.”

I sighed, running my fingers through my hair as I listened to them bickering, staring at my own sheet. We were in the subway, and it was nearly three PM, the final stretch on my mother’s self-ordained school day. Only thirty minutes until we were out, but those last thirty minutes were always the worst —my mother would leave us with our homework during that time, under the condition that if we finished it accurately before she returned from errands, we could be done for the day. Otherwise, there was another hour in store—and whenever Lucio’s and Slugger’s chatter started revving up, it nearly always meant a another hour.

“Guys, come on. Let’s focus,” I said, feeling a slight headache coming on. “We don’t need to do this any longer than we have to.”

“Oi, I’m already done,” bragged Slugger, slinging his heel up on the table and putting his hands behind his back. “It’s up to you two to catch up.”

“That’s not how it works; we all have to be done. And I might just not finish on purpose!” sneered Lucio, standing up and pushing his paper away.

“You wouldn’t, ya bastard,” retorted Slugger, his eyes narrowing as Lucio snapped his pencil in half.

“Yeah, that’s right, I’m a mathematical terrorist,” Lucio announced, strutting around the table. “Looks like it’s in your best interest to do some extra problems, right? It’s for the good of us all!”

“Ugh,” I said as I heard my mother’s footprints sounding in the corridor, descending towards us. “Really just want more schooling, don't you?”

I turned, ready with an excuse for my mother, to plead for five more minutes. But another shape stepped from the tunnel, a man with long enough hair to cover his face, cracking his neck as he entered the enclose.

“Stop right there!” I shouted, advancing and generating two dark orbs as I leapt to my feet. “Don’t move or I'll fire!”

“Stop?” shrieked the man, throwing his eyes wide but continuing to walk. “Stop? Do you know how long I’ve waited to do that? No, you listen here, you—you left me stranded in the middle of the Amazon. I had to work my way with smell alone back to the city—turns out the scent of burnt rubber makes its way even to the center of the forest.”

He jabbed his finger forwards accusingly, his face livid, and I bristled, the orbs in my hands growing as he continued shouting.

“And then when I got there, I didn’t have a lick of cash to my name. So you know what I did? I panhandled and begged, and offered my services finding lost items until I had enough to buy a bus ticket. Then another bus ticket. Then I clung the side of a train for two hundred miles. Next it was the sea—you know how seasick I get? You don’t. I assure you that you don’t.

“And eventually, I caught smell of home, but even then it took days. You owe me weeks of my life, and some new clothes, and, and—”

“Olef—is that you?” asked Lucio, tilting his head. “What—ooooh, did Lacit’s team not take you back?”

“Yes, Olef. Olef, the forgotten, until the police chief comes knocking on my door the second I arrive home. Oh, how happy was I to hear he wanted to see just the people that left me behind. With a letter,” he sneered, throwing down the envelope with a slap on the table.

“How the hell did you get in here?” I demanded. “This place is closed off.”

“Where the smells get out, I get in. Job finished,” he said, turning on his heel. “And back to my and Lucy’s nap. I swear if I hear word of you again, I’m leaving the city for good, and no amount of smells can bring me back. I don't care how much they pay, it ain't worth it."

Chapter 3

“How do we trust it?” Lucio asked, peering down past his homework sheet to where the envelope lay on the table, poking it with the end of his pencil.

“Oi, what do you think, that it’s gonna bite?” retorted Slugger. “You just as scared of that paper as your sheet of homework? Spooky numbers might be inside.”

“It’s from the cops,” Lucio said. “That’s what Olef said. All we gotta do is pretend we never got it, and if they ever do come knocking, then we never knew anything! I say we shred it or burn it, more fun anyways. Or we deliver it to someone else’s front door and let them report in.”

“If they ever come knocking, we likely have bigger problems,” I said. “If they know Olef can find us, and they wanted to capture us, then they could have just come with him. But they didn’t. Which means one of two things—they fear us or they respect us.”

Slugger loosed a low whistle and leaned back in his chair. “Either way, if we don’t open that, they’ll be acting next. Lot better to have their letter here than their faces.”

“Fine, go on!” Lucio said, throwing his hands up in the air. “But I warned you! If there’s something I’ve learned from my power, it’s that a bit of extra information can be worse than missing some.”

“I think we’ll risk it,” I said, running my finger under the sealed edge and pulling out the paper underneath. The message was simple, far shorter than I expected.

We have information you may want to know.

3 AM Tonight.

Same location as last time.

“See! See right there!” shouted Lucio, running his hands through his hair. “Just what I said, now we’ll just have to find out what that is, won’t we? The sequel to Escape to Danger Island is surely going to be pushed back now!”

“The sequel?” I scoffed. “You do remember that your two lead stars are thousands of miles away, right?”

“But you said we’d be back on the first of the month. That’s almost here and it’s the perfect time for a shoot!”

“Hey, if you can get them to agree to it, that’s up to you,” I answered, tapping my finger against the letter. “Until then, we should figure out what this is about.”

“Probably ‘Hands up! You’re under arrest!’,” said Lucio. “Then bam! We’re back in the rehabilitation facility. Maybe this time, we’ll even get to be Uppers.”

Slugger gave Lucio a long look up and down before speaking. “I’d be doubting that one. Like SC said, if they’re going to arrest us, they’ll come knocking. By sendin the letter, they risked us runnin off.”

“And what do you think they have to say?” I asked him, and he shrugged.

“Could be anything. Maybe they want to tell us Lacit is gone, and we should act right surprised. Or maybe they found something out about us; could be for our own protection.”

“Seems odd, though, to ask at three in the morning,” I countered. “They might want to keep this secret. Who knows, maybe they caught Blake and got him to talk.”

“Wouldn’t trust a word of that,” said Lucio. “His thoughts are a bigger mess than my room.”

“Sounds dangerous, then.” I laughed, then spoke more quietly as I heard my mother coming down the subway tunnel. “So, leaving here at two AM. Are we in?”

Slugger nodded, and Lucio frowned, then gave a slower nod.

“You’re lucky,” he said, tapping his forehead before rushing to discover what foods my mother had brought back from the store. “Lucky I don’t just give you a memory of us going. I bet I could make it even more interesting than what they have to say.”

We shared knowing glances at dinner, racing through our plates of spaghetti and meatballs after my mother had us complete our homework. She raised an eyebrow when Lucio completed his without complaint, but otherwise, the night passed uneventfully. Too uneventful, which my mother had learned to grow suspicious of, so I sparked a small fight between Lucio and Slugger for the last ice cream bar in the fridge. Lucio had written his name on it, but I ate Slugger’s in secret, then planted the wrapper on the floor of Lucio’s room.

Bed came quickly after that, and after waking at two, we darted through the streets, keeping to the shadows and avoiding confrontation. With Lucio’s help, anyone in our way suddenly remembered that they had forgotten to turn off the burner at home, or that their parking expired in only a few minutes. And with Slugger’s aid, the lightweight gratings that sometimes stretched over long periods of street grew heavy, and instead of the high-pitched clanging as we walked over, they only released quiet and low thuds.

We arrived at Olef’s secondary apartment, the door already unlocked, and Olef’s snores quite apparent through the wall. Seated at the table was Roland, the police chief who had helped us fight Siri in the subway tunnels, then given us the tip-off about Lacit. He occupied the same chair as before, dressed in civilian clothes, the jeans and dark t-shirt almost making him near unrecognizable. In his right hand, he clutched a round object, waiting for us to shut the door before beginning. Then, as the lock clicked, Roland snapped, slamming down a roll of film on the table and making us jump backwards as he hissed, “Is this some kind of joke?”

Chapter 4

“You mean a masterpiece?” asked Lucio, snatching up the film and cradling it to his chest. Under his arm, I could just see Danger Island, but his sleeve covered the “D,” leaving only Anger Island, a title that seemed all too fitting for our current interaction.

“You’re lucky as all hell that you didn’t win that contest,” fumed Roland, shaking his head. “You do realize that the winner was optioned to Hollywood? You had actual video evidence of you fighting the acting chief of police that almost went nationwide! Forget about the law; you don’t think that Lacit’s old buddies would have come a-knocking? You’ve been a thorn in their side, but they never knew who you were, where you were. They didn’t know you had anything to do with Lacit’s disappearance!”

“Oi, word will get back soon enough,” Slugger interjected. “We recognized people there. They knew us. And they’ve been runnin their merry little mouths all about it, I would bet.”

“Rumors and reports are one thing,” responded Roland, still glaring at the roll of film. “Rubbing it in their faces is another entirely. If there’s one thing the bosses hate more than losing, it’s other people knowing they lost. Damaging their pride is far worse than eradicating their armies. They can’t forgive that. They will root you out for it.”

“Right, because if they could root us out, then they wouldn’t have done that already,” Lucio drawled, and an image flashed through my mind, that of a mole buried deep under a boulder while foxes prowled around its edge. And by the look on Roland’s and Darian’s faces, I wasn’t the only one presented with that memory.

“None of your mind games,” snapped Roland, shaking his head. “I respect your space, now you respect mine.”

“Just go ahead and drop some images in mine then, why don’t ya?” Lucio said, waving a dismissive hand. “Or did I forget, are you a Memwriter as well? Except I don’t forget memories; I make them.”

You make trouble. Now sit and listen.

The words popped into my thoughts unbidden, so loud that I thought Roland had spoken—but his lips had not moved, and his eyes stared at us, intense. They left a slight ringing around the inside of my skull as they faded, and I shivered—it felt as if someone’s fingers had grazed against the top of my head, but on the inside, there was a tickling feeling, almost as if I had to sneeze.

“The hell was that?” I asked, leaning away from the table.

“That was my power.” Roland folded his arms over his chest. “But we’re civil here, so we don’t need to use powers in discussion. Or if you prefer, we can have this all in our heads—but like I said, I respect your thoughts. And you should do the same.”

“You had a power?” Lucio asked, his mouth agape. “Where the hell was that when we were fighting Siri?”

“Lucio, relax, he was using it,” I said, the pieces falling together in my mind. The way that the officers had naturally aligned in a V shape when fighting in the tunnel. How they moved in such cohesion, like the arms of an octopus, directed in the center by Roland.  I recalled an entry for the directory, one that I had read nearly a year before. “You’re a Director, aren’t you? You can broadcast your thoughts into the minds of others.”

“And perceive their senses, should they be willing. A more than useful ability as a police chief when conducting teams. And likely the reason I have the job.”

“I thought all Directors were sports team coaches?” said Lucio. “You could make way more doing that.”

“Not everything is about money, son,” said Roland. “There are other motivations. And besides, you could consider the force my team. But back to business—the only reason you haven’t been rooted out is because you’re far down their list. Those at the top likely haven’t even heard your names. Even Lacit left the city rather than hunt for you, and you’d managed to make his blood boil beforehand. If they wanted you gone bad enough, you’d be gone. And don’t let your pride convince you otherwise. You’re nothing more than pawns in this game. As am I.”

“You seem to know a lot about them, don’t you?” I asked, my voice suspicious.

“Hang out around power long enough and you’ll know the type. But you forget, I worked along Lacit. I investigated Siri. You hear things when you listen long enough. We know something is up, but we don’t know enough to fight it. And when we do, our hands are tied in one way or another from the bureaucracy. Rules that seem all too convenient to their cause.”

“If you consider yourself an ally, then you would have acted out long ago,” I said, shaking my head in disapproval, “instead of simply standing by.”

“Not all of us have a death wish,” Roland answered, the muscle in his jaw tightening. “But even if I did, do you think I’d be more useful six feet under after having laid waste to one of their plans? Or here, where I watch and listen, and wait for the right chance to strike? It’s about who wins in the end, not the moment. But about allies, I’ve never called you that.”

“Are you saying we aren’t?” I asked, tensing suddenly and feeling Lucio and Slugger mirror me.

“I’m saying that perhaps it’s time we should be. Because the one thing we do know right now is their next move. And we need you to stop it.”

Chapter 5

“You’re thinking of helping them? They’re who we should be fighting!” said Lucio, shouting towards the ceiling. “When have the cops ever helped us?”

We stood inside the contraption that Peregrine had constructed in the subway, the teleportation machine, as we waited for Arial to arrive. I squinted, looking out through one of the eight doors that surrounded us, one that was just as dark as the tunnels. Through it, I could just barely see train tracks running perpendicular through a bend in the corridor, and once a day, a train would come screeching down it, the sound entering through to our side of the door. But these sounds were typical down in the subway, and from the distance of our bedrooms, were indistinguishable from the natural others.

Since Lola was not around to assist, it had taken me some time to manipulate the portal doors of Peregrine’s contraption. With her help, we had been able to connect one of the doors to the Amazon rainforest thousands of miles away. But on my own, I’d managed to connect another door to a section of the subway track nearest to Arial’s house. It was adjacent to a room filled with electrical transformers and cabling, and to my best guess, Peregrine had intended it for the production of Electrosparks. But most important was a wire that ran up the wall towards ground level, one that the rats had chewed through long before—and that we discovered lit the rusted over lights that provided under glow to the subway entrance.

We’d patched the wire with a length of thin copper pipe, the piece suspended in midair and showering small blue sparks whenever we connected it.

“Eh, not good, but good enough,” Slugger had announced when we connected it the first time, after we ran outside to check if it was working. Though we always flipped a coin to determine who had to connect it and risk the inevitable electrical shock as copper met copper, the contraption served its purpose.

Whenever the lights were on, which Arial could just barely see in the distance from her window, it meant we needed to meet that night. Earlier, Lucio had lost the toss and connected the pipe, escaping with only a mild burn, so Arial should already be on her way. She’d remember that today was the first time we’d be opening the portal to the Amazon since we had left Darian behind, the first time we’d see him in a month and hear about the recovery of the Worldwalkers. Together, he and Lola had stayed behind to ensure her early reign as queen was successful, that the tribe could rebuild from Lacit’s assault, and, well, some more personal reasons.

As I stared through the portal, I saw Arial’s shape materialize from the tracks. Effortlessly, she glided forwards, and no matter how many times that I had seen her power, I was always astounded by the grace of the motion. When she was in the air, it seemed like nothing could hold her—not gravity, not the rules of everyday life, not reality itself. It was as if she was truly free.

When her face came into focus, I felt my mouth go dry again and my heart rate quicken. Only three days had passed since I had seen her last, but it always felt like I was meeting a stranger again, as if she was crossing some thick divide, and the words evaporated from my mind before they could reach my mouth.

“So,” she said, crossing through the portal and alighting in front of me, her brunette hair swaying slightly on the impact to momentarily cover one eye. “Are we ready?”

“Ready?” I asked, blinking.

“To see Darian? Of course!” she said, planting a kiss on my cheek as she strode past me, and I flushed. “Doesn’t look like the portal is open yet?”

“I don’t like leaving it there—without me controlling the elevation. If someone slips through, it could be trouble,” I said, turning to follow her. “But first, there’s something we need to talk about. There’s been a development.”

“More than a development!” Lucio interrupted, taking Arial by the shoulders with both hands. “The police found us and they’re trying to make us cops!”

“Have you been hiding something from me again?” Arial demanded, stopping short, her tone accusatory.

“Not quite,” I said as Arial’s eyes widened. “But not far off either. We need to fill you in, and we may need Lola’s help on this one. Having someone who can cross through walls would be a huge advantage for this situation. But first, let’s get this portal working so I can rest before sending us through.”

I closed my eyes and reached out to the machine surrounding us. From where we were standing, it simply looked like eight television screens, one showing where Arial had just emerged, the other seven showing static. Back when Peregrine had built it, it had been intended to emulate rare environments, greatly raising the chance that anyone born within was born with desirable powers and giving him the ability to raise an army of rare Specials.

Behind the doors, I could sense the infrastructure he had left behind, a mass of twisting darkness that extended away in every direction, splitting like tree branches as they neared their targets. Each of them was a node, a tunnel through space he had created using his Teleportation powers, and now survived after his death. Somehow, Peregrine had found a way to make the contraption permanent —something that Lola, our prior resident book nerd, had declared a rarity if not completely lost knowledge. How he had discovered that possibility remained a mystery to us, and I shuddered to think of the other contraptions that might be in progress if Siri also knew the secret.

With Lola’s help, we’d mapped out a portion of Peregrine’s nodes, and over the past month, I had returned, mapping even more as I grew more and more accustomed to the machine. In the past, simply working with the ripped open space made nausea wash over me, but now I barely felt any queasiness as I manipulated the strands of twisted reality, searching for the particular one that led to the Amazon. Every time I returned, the machine grew more and more familiar, and now it felt as if I was operating a switchboard, until with a snap, I made the connection and one of the doorways in front of me flickered to life, revealing the cliffs.

“And now,” I said, relaxing my power and stretching, surprised at how easy it had been to make the connection. “It’s time to fill you in on Roland.”

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