Copyright © 2024 Hannah J. August

The Aureate (The Aureate Trilogy)

By Hannah J. August

Edited by Joyce Fernandez, ReJoyce Literary Editing Co. —

www.rejoyceliteraryediting.com

Cover Design by Selkkie Designs—www.selkkiedesigns.com

Formatted by Halle with AJ Wolf Graphics

ISBN: 979-8-9906875-0-9 (Paperback)

ISBN: 979-8-9906875-1-6 (Hardcover)

All rights reserved.

No portion of this book may be reproduced in any form without written permission from the publisher or author, except as permitted by U.S. copyright law. For permission requests, write to the publisher, addressed “Attention: Permissions Coordinator,” at the address below.

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Weimar, CA 95736

This is a work of fiction. Unless otherwise indicated, all names, characters, businesses, places, events, and incidents in this book are either the product of the author's imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

The author recognizes all authors, artists, and composers of any works cited in this book.

Website: www.hannahjaugust.com

Author’s note:

This book is intended for upper young adult readers. A list of content warnings can be found at the back of the book.

For Lu,

for your love of books and stories. For your inspiring, kind heart and adventurous spirit.

“His foot once in the asylum, the criminal was sacred. But he must be aware of leaving it;

Once he left the sanctuary, he fell back into the flood…

In this sense, the asylum was as much a prison as any other.”

—Translated from Notre-Dame de Paris

by Victor Hugo

Remember, I urged myself as I sat in a dark cell, sealed off from the stars outside, shrouded in the murky shadows of sweltering night.

I shut my eyes and drew a tremulous breath. I clenched my fist tighter around the gold coin in my hand, feeling it dig deeper into my palm. I ignored the cutting sting.

Remember, I implored once more, but it was pointless. My memory was broken now. Not because of time or age, but because of what they did to me on the Aureate, to ensure I could never conjure the missing piece of my memory that I tried to now.

Finally, I loosened my white-knuckle grip on the coin and sat back in defeat, watching the shadows stir around me.

“Have a little more faith,” his voice knelled through the darkness.

I shuddered.

The night he first said that to me seemed like a lifetime ago, but that was one night I could never forget, no matter how many other memories they took. And though I fought to banish those words from my mind now, they rang on indelibly.

“Have a little more faith…”

It wasn’t the words that undid me. It was his voice, the way it rattled in my head, reviving the memory of the night we first spoke, like an ember uncovered from the ash, still pulsing with life. For a moment, I caught myself wishing time might somehow undo itself, that I could stay there with him in that singular moment forever, before everything changed. Before this place.

You’re running out of time, I reminded myself, forcing my thoughts away.

I refocused, reconciling my grip on the coin in my hand—my only clue to the past that had eluded me for so long.

Remember, I implored. Remember anything before the Aureate. Anything…

Despite my efforts, the chasmal blank void remained.

“Have a little more faith,” his voice tugged at me again.

Against my better judgment, I closed my eyes and conceded one last time to the incandescent image that manifested around the voice. That undying memory sparked and flickered and finally ignited back to life in a blaze of light.

Suddenly the ensnaring darkness was gone. I was in my old room, sitting alone at the edge of my bed. He was standing by the door, just about to leave.

I remembered feeling like he was too far away even then, that there was too much space between me and this stranger. I remembered how the low, yellow light on the wall only illuminated half of his face, the other half tucked into the shadows. More than anything, though, I remembered his smile. It was enigmatic, as if he was the only person on that ship who had somehow gone unscathed by the fear that slowly ate away at the rest of us—the fear that our survival was a mistake, that we were not meant to live in the world as it was now.

“You need to have a little more faith,” he said to me, flashing that invincible smile.

“Faith in what?” I asked, ineffably smiling back.

“In…” He drew a deep breath as he strode across the room. He reached out, finding a place beside me. As he sat, I looked into his eyes and saw for the first time the way they gleamed with a wild, untamable light they seemed to harness from some brighter place. “The end of the road,” he said. “One day you’ll look back and understand why everything happened the way that it did.”

Of course, back then, neither of us had any real idea of the long, perilous road that lay ahead. Now that I had come to the end of it, though, I realized he was right.

I shook my head, snuffing out the memory once and for all.

“I’m sorry,” I whispered as the darkness gathered around me once more, an overwhelming feeling of defeat crashing down on me. “It wasn’t supposed to be me.”

He couldn’t hear me now. I knew that. I just had to say it one last time.

This was not the end of the road we were promised.

This was not the end we had fought so hard to live to see.

E-e-e-k! The metal door at the front of the building suddenly swung open with a shrill screech, the shrewd light of day flooding into this concrete crypt that held only one prisoner.

“It’s time,” the bailiff’s voice thundered as he led a squadron of sentries toward me.

I scrambled to shove the coin into my pocket quickly, before it was spotted, although I wasn’t sure why. It wouldn’t be of any use to me after this.

“Survive at all costs.”

That was the promise we made to each other on the Aureate.

“Even when it feels like a mistake.”

Today, that was the last promise I had left to break.

PART ONE

A CAGE OF BIRDS

FIVE YEARS EARLIER

“Stop her!” the woman’s cry echoed behind me as I raced toward the alley between two dilapidated brick buildings. “That girl took my bracelet!”

The red-outfitted officers across the street turned their heads. I veered away, belting past the uniforms as they tumbled into a jog after me. I clutched the diamond-inlaid chain in my fist and picked up my stride, shooting across the road and into the manic bustle of the commerce strip.

“You there!” one of the officers called out. “Freeze!”

I hazarded a glance over my shoulder, watching him and his colleague fight the flock of civilians at my back, shoving them aside as they gained on me. I darted behind the nearest vendor cart. A cloud of white steam erupted from it, concealing me as I split down the back alley. I tripped over a stack of wooden pallets, stumbled forward, and kept running. I peered down a pawn shop alley on my left… where I spotted a dark shape charging across the shadows in a path parallel to mine.

No. I halted, my chest heaving not from the chase, but from the instinctive panic that now burned through me as I watched the figure vanish. He can’t be here. He can’t be back.

I heard the officers approaching and I took off again, skirting around the next corner and skidding between two food carts. After diving under a box of food being passed off to a patron, I paused, scanning the sea of metal tables around me. I swiped a plain, black coat off one of the chairs, threw it on, and pulled the hood over my head as I slipped into the crowd, slowing my pace. I breathed a bit easier as I shoved the bracelet into my pocket, thinking I was in the clear now… until I heard the sounding of horns that we had all come to dread, nobles and nomads alike.

Every soul in the square froze and turned to the giant screen on the face of the tall building straight ahead. A newscaster greeted us solemnly and announced that footage of the Exitus hitting the Castora coast early this morning had surfaced. Her voice carried over in the commentary, speaking on the immense impact of the quakes while a shaky camera panned a row of buildings collapsing in the distance. Bursts of light flashed under dark, billowing clouds as power lines snapped. Dust swirled viciously in the background. Structures toppled as citizens flooded the streets, screaming and tripping over one another in a desperate attempt to flee from the monstrous swell of debris that chased them.

I had seen so much of this footage over the years, and yet I never got used to it. To me, the quakes always looked like a giant beast tunneling underground beneath everything, felling all in its wake, from towering business centers to tiny bodegas. The beast left nothing unvanquished.

Castora is just overseas. I shuddered. It’s getting closer.

“Girl.” The cop’s emasculating voice came from behind.

I turned to find him and his partner flanking me. Busted.

“You’re coming with us, you little thief,” his partner said as he took my hand and scanned my fingerprint. He tsked at the display. “Not your first brush with the law, is it, Miss Lin?” he berated as he held out his palm.

I grumbled, pulling the bracelet from my pocket and handing it over.

So close.

I rode quietly to the station in the back of the transport vehicle, wondering how long they’d hold me this time before releasing me back into the care and custody of my current guardian. See, I’d done this enough times to know that the world was too broken for the law to waste time prosecuting minor wards of the state for petty thievery… and that most guardians were just as quick to turn me back over to the state for the same reason.

Would’ve been worth it, I told myself, taunted by the gleam of the golden bracelet resting on the console between the officers, if I hadn’t been caught.

But I knew it wasn’t just the arrest dampening my mood.

As we made our way out of the square, rolling slowly through pedestrian-packed streets, I looked out and saw the images plastered all over town—the Exitus finally hitting Castora, exacting total and utter destruction. I turned away from the gruesome reminder that all the pickpocketing in the world wouldn’t buy my passage into Altus if the quakes came and wiped all of this out before the system ever released me.

The beast leaves nothing unvanquished.

I faced forward, staring intently out the window ahead, when suddenly I saw something that filled me with a far more urgent fear.

Whoosh! That dark cloak caught the wind as it whipped past, trailing behind the familiar saturnine figure as he cut across the road.

He is back.

I slid down in my seat, suddenly sick with panic.

I trembled, dispelling the memory of the last time I’d seen him.

The alley. Who he hurt. Who he took.

“I promise, I’m not going to leave you.” My own words from that night came back to haunt me.

But I did leave. I left someone I cared about, and when I came back, he was gone, taken by the same man who lurked in the shadows of the crowd now, waiting to take me.

I lifted my head just enough to peek out the window as we passed the figure watching me from the herd of bystanders. I didn’t see his face. I never did. It was as if his very presence corrupted the laws of light. He didn’t just hide in shadows, he wore them somehow.

The faceless man tipped his wide-brimmed hat to me just before he slipped into the shaded space between two tall buildings, the shadows swallowing him completely. I squinted at the dark corners untouched by the morning light, searching for a sign that he hadn’t really gone.

He’s never really gone.

Boom! Suddenly his tall form appeared at the window, looming over me.

I whimpered, fumbling frantically with my seatbelt, but it wouldn’t release.

The officers did nothing as I fought to free myself.

My heartbeat broke into a feverish canter as the dark figure lifted something over his head, swinging it at the glass between us.

I screamed, throwing my arms up as it made contact and the window shattered.

“Ah!” I gasped awake from the disturbing dream and sat up with a start, blinking in the strange, gloomy light imbuing my small, second-story bedroom. I groaned, rubbing my eyes, then swung my legs over the bed, finding a picture frame face-planted at my feet.

So you’re what woke me, I realized as I bent down to retrieve the broken frame, the glass cracked across the photo that my current guardian had taken a few months ago, on my fourteenth birthday. The twin boys who’d been placed here before me were huddled at my shoulders as I sat at a table, the three of us smiling in the dim glow of the candles just before I blew them out.

I set the frame back on the nightstand, eyeing it perplexedly. That was when I heard it… the low, voracious rumble. The pictures hanging out in the hall began to clatter against the walls. I felt the floorboards tremble under my feet and I stilled, watching the picture slowly shimmy its way toward the brink again. I reached out and slapped it down, my heart pounding.

Don’t panic, I told myself, like I’d been taught to. It’s just another tremor.

It did nothing to stifle the building sense of dread I felt as voices began buzzing out on the street. I went to the window and pulled back the tattered curtain, watching the neighbors emerge from their houses. Some were still in sleepwear, others dressed for work, gripping steaming mugs of coffee, bouncing uneasy glances off one another as they all faced south. A few of them pointed and dropped their jaws, exuding utterances of horror.

I peered out the window, but I didn’t see anything. For the most part, everything just rumbled and rattled like always. But something was different this time. There was a terrible, guttural groan that seemed to emit from the very core of the earth itself.

As I watched the neighbors gather in the street and look to the southern horizon with grave expressions, a bad feeling began to slither over me, its disquieting whisper filling my head, prickling my skin. This is not another tremor. It’s here.

The disaster began in Tsutrea. We had been at war with them when it started—the surge in seismic activity. I was only three years old at the time, but according to the history, we were on the brink of victory when our government was forced to negotiate a hasty truce and ship what was left of our troops back home. An unnecessary formality, as it turned out. The quakes took less than a year to annihilate Tsutrea and its neighboring regions, leaving no survivors. The cataclysm had been advancing steadily toward us ever since.

We’d be the last to get hit, according to the projections of semi-local seismology expert, Dr. Luther Hale. His globally recognized theory, published ten years ago in the early stages of the catastrophe, predicted that these anomalous earthquakes would eventually decimate every last corner of the world. He called it the Exitus Theory. Of course, once the quakes had wiped out enough of the planet to make it more than a theory, everyone simply took to calling the reality of it, the Exitus.

Since then, we’d been living in a shadow of fear. It had crept into every aspect of our lives while we witnessed the ruin of the world around us—the writing on the wall, the ticking of the clock, the invasion of the inevitable.

And now it had finally come for us.

I shut the curtain and glanced back at the twins still sleeping soundly in their bunks. I laced up my shoes and tiptoed down the staircase jutting through the middle of the small living room.

Downstairs, I found my guardian, Joanna, standing in the kitchen, still as a statue as she gazed out the window. She looked as though she’d been up for hours, perhaps standing in that very spot, gripping her mug of tea without taking a sip. She hadn’t noticed I’d come down, too immersed in watching the commotion evolving outside. She had an intense look in her eye I’d never seen before—her brow dropped low, her lips parted, as though an anxious sigh was ever-releasing from them.

The floor creaked under my heels and suddenly her gaze snapped to me. Her expression shifted, as if seeing me there had reminded her of something. Without warning, her mug fell from her hands and shattered on the floor. She stepped heedlessly through the shards and ran to me, throwing her arms around me and nestling her cheek atop my head.

Then she began to cry.

I froze, unsure of what to do as she squeezed me almost to the point of suffocation. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry I didn’t tell you,” she murmured while stroking my hair. “You’re going to be okay, though. You hear me?” She pulled away, still gripping my shoulders, tears running down her cheeks as her eyes held mine. “You are going to be just fine.” She pulled me in again and sobbed, “I should have told you they were coming.”

Who’s coming? I wondered as her cheekbone pressed against my skull.

Just as I thought it, a low, swooping noise resonated from somewhere above, making the walls shake and the lights gutter. Joanna gasped and looked up, her eyes following the sound across the ceiling, all the way to the window behind us, where we saw the tail of a helicopter touch ground at the end of our street. “They’re here,” she uttered with a frantic flit of her gaze. “Quick. This way.” She urged me toward the small nook tucked under the stairwell.

Before I could ask any questions—bang!—our front door flew open and struck the wall.

I watched through the slats beneath the stairs as two mountainous men in bulky, black armor and helmets came barging in and started stomping around our little tenement.

“Clear up here!” one of them called from upstairs.

“I don’t see any sign of them,” his accomplice yelled from below. “You don’t think she took the kid and ran, do you?”

“Nah. Other kids are still up there,” the first one answered, pounding back down the steps. “She wouldn’t leave ’em. They’re here somewhere.”

We remained quietly ensconced under the stairs. I didn’t know who these trespassers were or why we were hiding from them—all I knew was that we weren’t hidden very well. And sure enough, five seconds later, one of the intruders’ flashlights was shining right in my eyes.

“Found them!” he shouted.

My guardian positioned herself between me and the invaders as they began to corner us… and finally I understood what was happening. These men were here for me.

It was strange, though. They didn’t look like the others who had come to relocate me in the past. They didn’t wear stuffy suits or carry briefcases full of paperwork. They looked more like soldiers.

“Just… hold on,” Joanna began to plead through quivering lips, her shaking hands held out as if to deter the armor-clad giants. “Please,” she begged in a low, dire voice. “I haven’t had a chance to explain to her. I… thought there’d be more time.”

“We’re sorry ma’am,” one of the soldiers replied with surprising leniency, “but we⁠—”

“We don’t have time,” the other snarled, sweeping my guardian aside and snatching me up by my scrawny arms, dragging me toward the door.

“Wait!” Joanna cried as I struggled in his unyielding grip.

“No!” I screamed, kicking and flailing, clawing at the doorjamb as the soldiers lugged me through.

“You need to come with us!” one of them shouted over the noise now pouring in from outside. “We’re going to take you somewhere safe!”

“Come on, don’t make this difficult!” the other said, prying me away. “We’re trying to get you out of here before it gets ugly!”

Eventually, they rallied their hold on me and hauled me out of the duplex, carting me down the front porch steps. I strained in the daylight, and as I faced the southern horizon, I finally saw what everyone must’ve been gawking at before the helicopter swooped in and stole the show.

I forgot to walk, or even breathe, as I beheld it.

Altus was… gone.

Where our capital had always stood, tall and mighty across the dunes, a vast jungle of shimmering skyscrapers… there was nothing left now but a smattering of hewn structures spearing up from a heaping mound of ruin.

How could an entire city be lost overnight like that? I wondered in bewilderment.

That was when another tremor struck, this one stronger than the last, buckling my knees.

That’s how, I thought, recovering my footing.

The quakes had wiped out Altus, and now they were here.

“Kid, come on! We gotta move!” one of the soldiers in black urged.

I stumbled forward, hardly able to tell if the tremor had ceased in all the chaos. The deafening pulse of the helicopter still reverberated in my ear, the whipping gust of the propeller shooting dust into my eyes. I lifted my hand in a feeble attempt to block the gale-force wind as the soldiers and I muscled through the mob that had formed around the chopper.

Further ahead, I spotted at least a dozen more soldiers in the same black fatigues and helmets sentineled around the helicopter like a human blockade, bracing themselves against an onslaught of people. Above them, I noticed the giant emblem that marked the side of the vehicle they guarded—an ornate, golden letter A.

I looked at the uniforms of the men who had me in tow. They had the same signet on each of their shoulders, underlined by three golden arrows.

I realized then… these men were not from the government.

I wasn’t being relocated. I was being kidnapped.

I stopped short, writhing to break free with a new sense of urgency.

“What are you doing?” one of the soldiers shouted over the ear-splitting chatter of propeller blades, barring down on my arm. “Come on, we need to get you out of here!”

“No!” I screamed.

“Come on!” he repeated impatiently, looking to his friend for help.

With a reluctant sigh, his comrade came to his aid. His pull was gentler, his voice calmer. “Come on, kiddo. We have to get you to that chopper.”

“No! Let me go!” I protested as the soldiers hauled me through the crowd swarming and leeching onto the helicopter.

“Take us with you!” a distant voice begged. “Please, let us in!”

“Don’t leave us here!” pleaded another.

A mess of cries followed as they all fought tooth-and-nail to get in, but the army in black fended them off ruthlessly, even stunning a few desperate souls to keep them at bay.

Upon our approach, a soldier up front gave a robust whistle that seemed to quiet the crowd’s commotion momentarily, then he motioned for me to come forward.

I felt every eye on me as the soldiers forced me through the narrow path inexplicably yielded for me, too aware that everyone here was wondering the same thing I was. This is all for me?

Another tremor struck. The earth clattered, rattling my bones until I couldn’t see straight. My legs faltered and I fell to the ground, a few foreign limbs slamming down on top of me.

“It’s here!” a woman’s shrill voice pierced the fray as she shot back to her feet, and the mob instantly fell back into disarray.

While the soldiers scrambled to retrieve me amidst the chaos, another quake hit, this one making the previous feel like a shiver. The earth broke into violent seizing—writhing and moaning as if it were fighting to break free of its abiding place in the universe.

I covered my ears against the deafening sound and peered through the overlapping tide of bodies surrounding me, threatening to sweep me away. I spotted a distant sliver of light and stumbled toward it, meeting the ground a few times in my haste. Finally, I broke free, turning in a clumsy circle in the middle of the street while the turbulence worsened. As I fought to keep my balance, I looked up and saw a car rolling toward me. I flung myself out of the way, shards of glass spraying the air as it tumbled past.

I stood, still dusting fractals from my hair, when suddenly I heard a creaking moan behind me, followed by a thunderous thud! I whirled around and saw an electrical tower downed in a puddle, spitting sparks. A jagged bolt of light shot across the wires, echoed by a loud zap!

I flinched and scurried back. Clang! The next noise rang out like a bell, immediately followed by a sharp hiss! I looked over my shoulder and saw a busted hydrant spewing water into the streets like a geyser. I watched it rush over my sneakers and winced. I had seen this on the news. This would mean gas leaks, too.

Sure enough, a sundering explosion sounded just a few blocks away. I craned my head in its direction and saw the building already consumed in flames, a blaze of orange light feeding up into a plume of black smoke.

I coughed, the burning stench already wafting this way. I shook out my shirt collar and pulled it over my nose, straining to see beyond the dense veil of debris and drifting cinders. I counted at least a dozen more smokestacks churning up into the sky, indicating the numerous fires that had broken out across the city.

Then I detected a subtler sound—a strange, metallic scraping. I peered around the nearby mercantile just in time to see a domed cage full of frenzied birds fall to the flagstone.

Crash! The cage hit the ground and the door flew open, a flock of dark-feathered fowl shooting out of it, swooping over my head as they absconded to the sky.

‘Beware the bird you cage,’ the strange line drifted distantly through my mind. It was from a poem I’d read once, maybe in school.

But where will you go? I wondered as I clambered over the disheveled slabs of earth, watching the birds’ silhouettes disappear into the clustered clouds.

Just below them, an entire sector of high-rises bowled over each other like dominoes, leaving nothing but a pale ghost of silt where they stood.

The beast was moving toward us, fast.

Maybe I shouldn’t have been so quick to run from that helicopter, I realized, scaling the nearest pile of rubble to peer through the wreckage.

The helicopter wasn’t far. I could make it back if I hurried.

With that, I dismounted the ruins and charged toward the vehicle, weaving through a minefield of people ambling confusedly in the ashen haze. Loose gravel gnawed at my ankles. The more the shaking escalated, the more difficulty I had staying on my feet, and eventually I fell to my knees, dirt stinging the cuts there through freshly torn holes in my pants. I pressed my hands to them and curled into a ball, ready to admit defeat, when I felt a tap on my shoulder.

I uncoiled just enough to look up and see one of the soldiers in black kneeling over me. The visor on his helmet was lifted now so that I could see his kind eyes. His deep-brown cheeks were flushed, his breath ragged as he reached out his hand. “Come on, kiddo,” he said.

Rubble rolled off my back as he pulled me up. While the soldier surveyed our treacherous surroundings, a voice emerged through the comm tacked to his shoulder.

“Please tell me you have eyes on the girl!”

“I’ve got her,” he responded. “We’re heading to you now. It’s going to be dicey though, so keep an eye out.”

“You got it, boss,” the voice replied over choppy background noise. “Just get to the transport, quick.”

“Copy that,” the soldier confirmed. He tightened his grip on my arm, and the next thing I knew, I was running—stumbling—alongside him, dodging hazardous wreckage raining down around us.

Something ruptured loose from a brick wall and nailed me in the back of the head.

“Ah!” I yelped, staggering sideways.

The soldier stopped just long enough to examine my injury. “You’re not bleeding,” he concluded. “Come on. We need to keep moving.”

I did my best to keep up as we pressed on, but all I could see was chaos rushing past me between the black and yellow specks now muddling my vision, and then⁠—

Boom! I pulled to a screeching halt as the large concrete mass suddenly slammed into the earth in front of me, the impact hurling me onto my back, driving the breath out of me.

I lurched forward, scraping for air on all fours between blinding waves of pain, the dark flecks bursting before my eyes now amassing into a solid sheet of black.

“Watch out!”

No sooner had I heard the warning cry than I felt a pair of hands snatch me back. My vision cleared just in time for me to witness the massive beam toppling to the ground right where I’d been crouched a second ago.

I waited for the dust to settle, then flipped over to face the soldier who’d grabbed me out of the way. His stunned expression mirrored my own, a triumphant smile flickering across it briefly. Then, without wasting another second, he pulled us both to our feet.

I knew what came next. More running.

This time, I raced with everything in me, clinging to the soldier as we sprinted toward the helicopter. Upon our approach, the man to whom I now owed my life tucked me tightly under his arm as he bore through the rampageous mob and then handed me over to one of his constituents, freeing himself to help fight the others off.

“Get back!” the helmeted woman barked at the teeming crowd as she grabbed me. “Reuben, take her!” she commanded another soldier standing by, passing me off again.

Reuben clamped his husky hand down on my arm. “Steele!” he hollered. “We’ve got the girl, let’s move out!” He pointed his finger at the sky and spun it in a circle.

The man who answered to Steele jumped into the helicopter and extended his hand to me. “Take it!” he yelled over the din. “Hurry!”

But all I could do was stare at that hand while the other soldiers piled in behind him. I looked back at my home at the end of our crooked street. My guardian stood at the porch’s edge. The twins were gathered next to her now. She had an arm around each of them, but she kept her eyes staunchly fixed on me… so much so that she hadn’t noticed the cracks that had begun to creep across the walls behind her.

Then she did something I would never forget. It was hard to see from so far away, with so much happening around us, but I knew I hadn’t mistaken it. She nodded, as if to tell me it was okay to climb into the helicopter and go wherever it would take me… to leave them behind.

That was when the awning over our porch split apart, and all at once, the house collapsed, instantly burying the three of them in shambles.

My jaw fell, a sob of disbelief escaping my throat. Eyes wide with horror, I panned my surroundings, everything screaming that all of this was about to be reduced to scrap and ash. Not until this moment did I truly comprehend what the rest of the world had incurred for the past decade. I’d heard about it all my life in covert whispers, seen hints of it in the harrowed glances my guardians would exchange whenever the news reports took an egregious turn, but I never truly understood until now. We were never safe from the Exitus, despite a decade spent virtually untouched by it, watching it devour all other reaches of the earth from the safety of our homes, denying the presages that we were next.

“It’s okay,” they all told me whenever we felt the earth quiver. “Everything’s going to be fine.”

But those were just empty promises made to a little girl so she could sleep at night and play during the day and enjoy the time she had left.

Now that time was up, and there was nothing I could do… except get out.

“Kid!” Steele’s voice startled me.

I blinked, returning my attention to his still outstretched hand.

“Take it,” said a voice behind me. I pivoted to the soldier who’d saved me from the fallen beam—the last one who remained outside the helicopter with me now. “Don’t look back there,” he warned just as my gaze began to drift back to the remains of my home. “Hey”—he took a knee, eyes locking with mine—“don’t look back. Look at me. We have to go now, understand?”

I did. I didn’t know who these people were, or if they would take me anywhere safer. All I knew was that if I didn’t go with them now, I would die here.

I turned to take Steele’s hand, but just as our palms met, another quake struck and knocked me to the ground, my head slamming into the pavement.

I groaned, sipping air through clenched teeth as my fingers prodded the gash above my right eye. They came away dripping with red.

Then I heard the most fearsome noise of all.

The sharp, sinister crack seemed to breathe right down my neck.

Every nerve in my body tensed.

I knew that noise. The beast had reached us now.

I peered over my shoulder, a small, helpless shriek falling from my lips as I watched the rift slice through the earth, tearing straight toward me, a yawning sinkhole ripping open in its wake and swallowing everything around it.

“Barrett! Now!” Steele shouted at someone inside the chopper.

Suddenly the propeller picked up speed, the gust blowing my dark hair across my face.

“No, wait!” I raked it out of my eyes, out of the blood as I lunged to my feet, watching the chopper lift into the air.

Then I heard the disturbing sound again. C-r-r-r-ack!

I whirled around and saw the fissure racing toward me at a ravenous pace. I whimpered, bracing myself against the earth about to disintegrate at my feet.

“Steele! Toss it down!” a familiar voice bellowed beside me.

I turned to find the soldier who had saved me still standing there, one hand brimming his eyes, the other stretched toward the sky. I glanced up at the helicopter, idling only a few feet above us. Oh.

Steele hung out of the helicopter by one arm, the other bearing what looked to be a bundle of red straps and black rope. “Catch!” he yelled.

I flinched as he tossed the bundle down, but the soldier beside me caught it with ease and worked quickly to fasten the red straps around his waist, forming some sort of harness.

I was so busy watching him, I’d nearly forgotten about the beast speeding toward us… until suddenly I felt the ground shift. I released a strangled cry, pedaling against the earth, grasping for traction as it quickly gave way.

“Whoa, whoa!” the soldier cried, shooting his arm out to catch me, but he was too late.

The earth threshed from under me. I screamed, flailing and swiping blindly for something—anything—to grab onto as I plunged toward the bottom of the chasm with accelerating velocity, and then⁠—

“Oof!” Something snagged hold of my arm, instantly stopping my fall.

I dangled there confusedly for a moment, legs still punting. Then, inconceivably, I felt myself being raised up, and the next thing I knew, I was face to face once again with the soldier who had saved my life… twice now.

“You…” I uttered breathlessly, glancing down at the sickening drop that descended into shadows below. “H-how…?” I fought to form the word between gasping gulps of air, my heart pounding in my throat as I searched for some explanation as to how we were suspended above the abyss. Then I zeroed in on the length of taut, black rope between us and followed it up to the helicopter.

The soldier gaped at me, again mirroring my baffled expression. “I gotcha, kiddo,” he said with a shaky smile, securing his grip as we swung like a pendulum over the riven earth below.

I threw my arms around him impulsively, clutching tight, still trying to forget the horrific feeling of falling. The soldier gave a short, strained laugh as he held me with one arm, the other working quickly to secure a second harness around my waist and affix it to his. He signaled to the soldiers overhead. “We’re good!”

As we ascended toward the helicopter, the shock began to wear off, incisive terror flooding in its place. My heart raced. Pollution stung my lungs. I blinked the soot from my lashes and cast my gaze out across the miles of wreckage below us, the beast continuing to charge into the distance as far as my eye could follow, laying waste to everything in its path.

“Don’t look down,” my rescuer told me, seeing the fear in my eyes.

I obeyed. I didn’t want to look anymore. I rested my head on his shoulder and concentrated on the single beam of sunlight piercing through the clouds as we were hoisted above the destruction.

Don’t look back. Don’t look down, I repeated the soldier’s orders.

“It’s okay,” his voice quivered as he held me. “You’re safe now.”

Safe. That word seemed to have lost all meaning. We were dangling thirty feet over a continent being ravaged by quakes. A hurricane of rubble swirled overhead. And yet, despite the confusion and fear overwhelming me as we hung between clouds and wreckage, I really only had one burning question. All I wanted to know was… Why me? When all those other people were so desperate to go with these strange soldiers who’d descended from the sky, why did they save me?

Little did I know, I would be asking that question for a very long time.

As we were winched toward the helicopter, a resounding moan emanated from one of the last nearby edifices that had yet to collapse, warning it was about to. I looked up and saw just how inescapably it would take us down with it when it did.

“Steele, come on!” my rescuer, whose name I still hadn’t learned, shouted as we dangled from the harness. “Hang on, kiddo,” he murmured.

I complied, holding tight until we reached the vehicle. Steele pulled me inside, unlatching me and tossing me into an empty seat between the black-clad soldiers.

“She’s in!” my anonymous savior announced, tumbling in after me. He unhooked the harness and chucked it over the ledge, slamming the door shut and yelling up to the pilot, “Barrett, go, go, go!”

The pilot was already a step ahead, cursing to himself as he veered us up at full pelt, dodging fragments still raining from the sky.

The crumbling building released another moan, as if crying out for help one last time before it conceded, slowly keeling over in front of us.

“Barrett…”

“I see it!”

“Well get us out of here!”

We shifted direction, the nose of the helicopter pitching almost straight up in the air. I grabbed hold of the handle overhead to keep from falling out of my seat.

The structure finally gave way, smashing to the ground with a monumental crash, engendering a great, opaque cloud that shrouded us completely.

Barrett muttered another expletive. “I can’t see anything! I’m totally blind!”

“That was the last building standing for miles!” my rescuer shouted back. “Just keep taking us up! Don’t stop!”

Barrett didn’t argue. Debris continued to fall as we flew up. A shrill ping here, a loud clang there. A metal spike flew through the windshield, just missing the pilot, a web of cracks splintering the glass. Then something else hit and shattered it completely, glass shards flying across the cabin as we all flung our arms up to shield our eyes.

A blaring siren sounded, a robotic voice informing us that the airtight cabin had been breached and oxygen levels were depreciating. Just as I began to struggle for breath, a mask dropped down in front of me. I looked around, watching the soldiers remove their helmets and strap their respective masks on. I took mine and followed suit, inhaling the clean air.

“Barrett, you gotta get us out of here.” My rescuer’s voice was muffled by the mask.

Bang! Another sizable projectile struck the aircraft.

“Copy that,” Barrett said, securing his own mask and taking us up in a much smoother maneuver this time.

As we all slid back into our seats, the soldier who saved me scoffed, almost like it was amusing to him at this point that we were all still alive. “Well, that was a close call,” he said. “The Chancellor won’t be happy to hear about this.”

“Hey, we got her out,” Steele countered, wiping his brow as if the exertions of the near-death experience had made him tetchy. “That’s what matters to the Chancellor. He doesn’t have to know how close it was when you give the report.”

“Look at the kid’s head.” Reuben nodded at the bleeding abrasion above my right brow. “He’s going to know this didn’t go how it was supposed to.”

“Hey,” my rescuer snapped, gesturing to me with his eyes to imply that I could obviously hear them. “Don’t listen to them, kiddo.” He turned to me. “You’re going to be fine. That is what we can tell the Chancellor.” He glowered at his team.

“It’s his own fault anyway,” Steele grumbled through his mask. “He should’ve sent us down to get them sooner, before all this started. That was the plan.”

Them?

“It’s the Exitus,” my rescuer admonished. “Plans go awry. We were supposed to have more time, but that whack-job, Hale, was off,” he said spitefully, as if Dr. Hale had condemned us all to death, as if somehow the quakes were his fault.

“Wonder how the other team’s doing out there,” the only female soldier in the fuselage said pensively, gazing out the shattered window. Everyone went quiet. She shifted uncomfortably, her eyes flitting to my rescuer as she added, somewhat apologetically, “I’m sure they all got out too. I’m sure they’re fine.”

He nodded, burying his face in the mask again. But silently, I could see the chaos from moments ago still streaming behind his eyes.

I removed my own mask to release a building cough, but it didn’t go unnoticed.

“You’re going to want to keep that on,” Steele warned. “The air’s about to get pretty thin where we’re going.”

I wanted to ask what that meant, but speaking wasn’t coming easily at this point. At any rate, the ability to breathe wasn’t something I was eager to refuse, so I secured the mask back onto my face as we ascended above the clouds, gliding through the clear, if not still overcast sky. All was quiet. All was still. I began to wonder if this could all be just another terrible dream.

I unfurled my scraped hands in my lap. They stung too badly for this to be a dream.

After maybe an hour in the air, the helicopter suddenly became eclipsed by a shadow. I looked up through the busted windshield and could hardly believe what I saw emerging from the clouds. It looked like a massive satellite had fallen out of orbit and now hovered, stationary over a vast stretch of ocean below. The ship appeared great enough in size to accommodate a city. The oblong exterior consisted of materials I’d never seen before—gleaming, mirror-like facets that reflected the sun and violet clouds around it, as well as a gold-hued metal that gave off flares of iridescent pinks, greens, and yellows.

The floating fortress looked somehow mighty and fragile at the same time.

I pressed my hands to a window still intact, gaping at the sheer enormity of the ship as we drifted toward it. Eventually, we pulled into a hooded hangar at the top, a humming, transparent field flashing as we passed through. Inside the hangar, another group of soldiers in black awaited us, a few of them baring their teeth sympathetically at the dents and dings that marred our metal chariot. A few others smirked amusedly.

“Welcome back boys.” One of them pulled down his earmuffs and greeted us with a gawky grin as the helicopter door opened. “And you of course, Maya.” He winked at the soldier as she climbed out first.

“Screw you, Sykes,” she mumbled, brushing past him coldly and vanishing into the ship.

Sykes turned to the others and arched his brow. “She-ew. It was that bad out there, huh?” His eyes moved over the battered chopper.

“You have no idea,” Steele said, his eyes still twitching as he followed Maya inside, the others trailing closely behind.

My rescuer stayed behind with me. “You okay?” he asked as he helped me down from the helicopter.

I had no idea how to answer him, so I nodded, folding my arms across my chest.

“Come on.” He smiled wearily. “Let’s get you inside.”

“There she is!” Sykes motioned to me. “Ah, the Chancellor’s going to be happy to see you!”

I looked to my rescuer uneasily.

“Sykes, back off,” he rebuked. “Give her some room to breathe.”

Sykes ignored him, pointing at the gash on my head with blood crusted around it. “What happened there?”

I shrunk back, pulling my hair down over it.

“Don’t worry about it,” the soldier told him. “Just be glad they didn’t send you. They weren’t lying. It’s ugly down there…” he trailed, gazing at the feathered clouds rolling by as the hangar door closed, darkening the space around us. “Have you heard anything from the other team?” He turned to Sykes, his tone suddenly urgent, “Did they get the other kid out?”

Other kid?

The swooping propeller blades slowed and stopped, leaving nothing but the long strain of silence before Sykes finally answered, “They should be rolling in soon. Don’t worry, we’re still in contact. No fatalities reported yet. You”—he poked the man’s chest—“need to go debrief the Chancellor ASAP.”

“I know, I know.” My rescuer swatted Sykes’s hand away, then tapped my shoulder. “Come on, kiddo,” he said. “This way.” He guided me across the hangar, but paused at the glass doors and called one last thing out to Sykes, “You’ll let me know when he gets back?”

I glanced over my shoulder and saw Sykes nod. “You’ll be the first. I promise.”

The soldier bobbed his head gratefully, then took me through the towering doors that led to a brightly lit concourse inside where the others waited. “Welcome to the Aureate,” he gestured. “Reuben, Steele”—he pointed to them—“you two take her down to the labs so they can get started. I’ll give the Chancellor the rundown and meet you on the sublevel as soon as I can.”

“You sure he wants us to take her straight there?” Steele challenged.

“Those were the orders,” my rescuer replied. “The rest of you can go. Good work today. Mission accomplished, right?” He laughed, clapping one of them on the shoulder.

As he and the rest of his team dispersed, Rueben turned to me and Steele. “You heard the boss,” he said. “Let’s move.”

“Come on, this way.” Steele nudged me along.

As the pair led me through the ship, I couldn’t help but note that there were no windows. The white walls were louvered vertically, but the light coming through the slats didn’t seem natural. The ceiling and even the floor we walked on all radiated a spectacular, white glow, as if we were walking through bright clouds encased in frosted glass.

What is this place? I wondered. I felt so conspicuous, parading through it all covered in soot and grime and dried blood.

It was so quiet here compared to the raucous pandemonium we’d only narrowly escaped, save for a soft, distant melody that I noticed playing overhead. It was a beautiful song—serene, and so bizarre to hear at a time like this. The further we advanced, the louder the music grew. I stole a questioning look at Reuben.

“Chopin,” he said gruffly. “It’s… supposed to keep everyone calm.”

I tried to focus on the calming music as we traipsed through the immaculate, white halls, but I kept getting bombarded by flashes from the ground—the way Joanna held me and wept, that woman screaming “It’s here!” as the shaking started up again, the horror of watching my house cave in on my guardian family.

I shivered, distracting myself by studying the uniforms of the soldiers escorting me—the black comms on their shoulders, the gleaming A signets beneath them, underlined by three golden arrows. Then my gaze wandered to the holsters on their hips, each sheathing a gun.

My stomach knotted as I stared at them, hoping they were just for show.

A voice erupted from Steele’s comm just then, frantically trying to convey something through a storm of static.

“Repeat,” Steele commanded, but before the voice could do so, a pair of footsteps came racing up behind us.

I turned and spotted the boy flying toward me just in time to jump out of his way. His sneakers screeched against the polished floors as he went by in a blur, and it was the strangest thing, but… I could’ve sworn I heard him calling my name.

“Anna!” Its indistinct echo ricocheted down the pearly halls. “Anna!”

But he just kept running, until suddenly another squad of soldiers appeared at the end of the hall, ambushing the boy and dragging him away, ignoring his cries of protest.

I stared down the empty hall where the boy had been detained, telling myself it couldn’t have been me he was calling for. Anna was a common name, even in a world as small as ours, and he had charged past me without so much as a glance.

Unless…

No, I reasoned quickly, fighting flashes of that alley where I’d left him so long ago. He’s not here.

“Keep it moving, kid,” Steele grunted, jabbing my shoulder.

I blinked, willing myself to comply, but something tugged at me… an invisible tether pulling me in the direction of the boy, his cry still ringing in my ears. Anna!

“Hey”—Steele nudged me again—“let’s go. This way.”

I complied, if only to avoid being apprehended like the boy… or worse, I thought, realizing those guns may not be just for show.

Reuben and Steele led me into an elevator. Steele pressed one of only two buttons on the console. As 28 went dark, Sub lit up below it and the elevator began its descent.

The ride felt like an eternity. When the doors finally opened, we stepped out into another long hallway, only this one was not nearly as bright. This floor was dark and desolate, lit only by a few scattered beams of light framing a narrow passage that led to an undefined space ahead. My stomach curled tighter. I wanted to go back to the white cloud, but I followed the soldiers down the dark path until the lights ran out.

“To your left,” Steele directed me.

I looked over and found a door marked L4 enveloped in a single beam of light.

Rueben hit a button and the door opened. He motioned for me to enter.

I ventured cautiously into the dim room, spotting a lonely light dangling over a baleful-looking chair straight ahead. There was a metal tray beside it, a few sundry tools scattered across the top.

“Here.” Steele shoved a small stack of clothes at me. Where they came from, I didn’t see. “You have two minutes to dress, then we’ll begin.”

Begin what? I wanted to ask, but I didn’t get the chance. Reuben threw a pair of black boots at my feet and they both left.

I glanced again at the menacing chair, noticing this time that it featured wrist and ankle restraints. I gulped, then hurriedly kicked off my sneakers and removed my clothes. I slid into the black pants, the material clinging to my scraped knees. I ignored the unpleasant tingle and moved on to the shirt and jacket. As I zipped up the bright blue jacket trimmed with black and gold, I noticed those same golden A signets at the tops of my sleeves, only these had two golden arrows underneath, rather than three.

I ran a finger absently over the shiny A, then remembered my time limit and reached for the boots. I was still lacing them up when Reuben and Steele reappeared, this time escorting a man holding a camera. Reuben placed a hand under my chin and started dabbing the gouge on my head with a wet cloth. He did the same to the rest of my face and scuffed hands, then ushered me over to the wall. “Stand there,” he instructed tersely, and before I knew what was happening, a bright flash assaulted my eyes.

As the cameraman nodded and left, Reuben and Steele led me right to where I didn’t want to go. They plopped me down in the creepy chair beneath that lonely light, and a redheaded woman in a white coat breezed through the door, sauntering toward me.

She crooked her head, examining me like a specimen from another planet, placed under a microscope for her inspection. Her eyes darted sharply to Steele. “One more?” she asked.

Steele nodded, both their gazes falling back on me. “She’s the very last one. Wasn’t easy to get her here, either.”

“No, I’d imagine not.” The woman pursed her lips as she leaned in close, analyzing the scrapes on my hands, her eyes moving over me with meticulous focus, eventually settling on the gash above my brow. Her lips curled into a mordant scowl as she leered at the soldiers.

“Come on,” Steele carped. “You didn’t really expect us to get her here without a scratch, did you? In case you didn’t hear, it’s chaos down there.”

The woman shook her head. “What about the other one?” she asked. “The boy?”

Reuben and Steele both shrugged. “Haven’t heard anything yet,” Steele said.

Who is this boy?

I wondered if they were speaking of the boy who had raced past us earlier, but before I could ask, the woman pulled a tiny light out of her pocket and shined it between my eyes.

“Well, she’s not concussed,” she concluded. “It’s just a superficial laceration. Shouldn’t affect the procedure… luckily for you.” She shot Steele another impugning look, then whipped out a pair of latex gloves.

What procedure? I tried to voice my hesitation but started coughing violently instead. By the time I was done, my eyes were watering, my chest burning.

The woman frowned. “I don’t like the sound of that. Open wide for me, please.” She pulled a tongue depressor from her pocket and shined the tiny light again. “Open please,” she repeated, and I couldn’t exactly refuse once she started digging her gloved hand around in my mouth. She reached over and took a swab from the tray next to us, swiping the inside of my cheek with it. “Her airway is fairly blocked,” she said, the acrid taste of latex flooding my mouth as she finally released me. “We’ll have to flush it out while she’s under.”

Under? What does that mean? Hello! I’m right here! Somebody please tell me what’s going on!

I couldn’t seem to get the words out.

“Here.” She handed the swab to Steele. “Run that for a DNA match.”

“Sure thing, boss.” He smirked. “Let’s make sure we got the right kid.”

The woman reprehended him with a frown. Steele’s grin diminished as he took the sample over to a device in the corner of the room.

“Running DNA scan,” a disembodied voice said as a blue light beamed into the darkness. “Scan complete,” it announced after a few short seconds, and then a compilation of words and numbers I didn’t understand flashed at us in neon blue.

ID #: 472986 100% DNA match

Preliminary Score: 100.0

As the last number blinked out, the woman turned to the men quizzically. “One hundred? That has to be a mistake.”

Steele chuckled. “No wonder we got sent down in the middle of that mess for her. She’s got the highest prelim score of all time.”

“No way,” Reuben rejoined. “She’s right, that score’s a fluke. If it was that high, she would’ve been the first kid we brought here, not⁠—”

“Alright,” the woman snapped. “That’s enough. She’s here now, and I have work to do. You gentlemen can wait outside until I’m done.”

“Yes ma’am,” Steele muttered.

Just as he and Reuben turned to leave, though, the door hissed open and a familiar voice beckoned, “How’s our girl doing?”

He stepped into the light and smiled.

My rescuer.

He was breathing heavy, like he had sprinted all the way down here, his face still caked in soot and sweat. “Hey, kiddo,” he said, as if we were not two strangers who had just met today under unimaginable circumstances. “How you holdin’ up? Sorry to leave you with these guys. I had to run upstairs and report to the Chancellor, tell him we got you here safe.” He eyed the abrasion on my head and added, “More or less. Anyway, I should introduce myself. I’m Tye.”

He held his hand out to me. I went to shake it, but suddenly, all I could see was Steele’s hand outstretched from the helicopter, surrounded by turmoil. All I could hear was the boom of the propeller picking up speed while the ground seized at my feet.

“Hey, it’s okay,” I heard my rescuer—Tye—trying to console me from somewhere beyond. I felt his hand on my shoulder. “You’re safe now, you hear me?” Tye asked. “You’re safe. Can you tell me your name?”

“I’m… Anna,” I said faintly, my senses starting to return.

“Good,” Tye said. “Cognitive awareness, verbal response—you’re talking. That’s good, Anna. It means you’re not still in shock.”

My eyes flew to him. “You… already knew my name, didn’t you?”

Tye clicked his cheek, pointing at me. “They were right about you. You’re smart.”

I stared at him until he finally yielded to my silence. “Yes. We all know who you are, Anna.”

“What am I doing here?” I felt blood trickling down the side of my face again and swiped it away.

“Don’t worry”—Tye ignored my question, eyeing the wound above my brow—“we’ll get that patched up in a minute, here.”

“You saved my life back there,” I said, endeavoring to communicate my gratitude.

Tye grinned. “Don’t mention it. That was the job, after all.”

“To save me?” I said skeptically. “Why?”

Tye chewed his lip, contemplating how to answer. “You’ll find out soon. The Chancellor will explain everything once you’re done here.”

“Done… with what?” I asked.

Tye’s eyes narrowed. “I’d tell you… but in a few minutes you won’t remember any of this anyway.”

“What?”

The woman in the white coat shoved my right sleeve up my arm, blotting the crook of it with something that burned, then tying it off with an elastic band.

“What are you…?” I couldn’t finish the question, floored by panic.

“It’s okay, Anna,” Tye assuaged me. “You’re safe. I promise you, everything’s going to be fine.”

But I could hardly hear him over the hammering in my chest.

Then the restraints snapped shut around my wrists and ankles, and Tye backed into the shadows.

Wait! Don’t leave! I wanted to call out, but my voice had abandoned me once again.

“You’re going to be fine, Anna,” I heard him say one last time before he disappeared.

The woman lifted her gloved hand to the light, revealing a syringe filled with a glowing, blue liquid.

“Hold still, please,” she said as the syringe plunged toward my arm.

“Wait!” I squirmed with futile resistance. “What is that?”

But she didn’t answer—not before the needle pierced my skin and I watched a vein of light shoot up my arm. My neck gave out. The light overhead started spinning in dizzying circles until… whoosh!

A veil of blackness fell over everything.

I began to see my life flash before me, but it was distorted, shuffled around without order or reason, like a dream where you jump sporadically from one place to the next, but faster. I barely had time to recognize one image before it vanished and another took its place.

A face, a smile, a hand, a gold coin, a brick building, a wooden swing, a dark alley, a diamond bracelet, a tall and billowing shadow, a white paper bird, a shiny black car, rain falling heavy on a window, a marble fountain, a pair of muddied sneakers, a yellow carnation, the golden gates that once towered outside of Altus—it all rushed past me faster and faster, one after another, until eventually it all became a blur of colors and then⁠—

Nothing.

Just the dark, empty void of an unconscious wasteland.

When my eyes opened again, they were met by that same light dangling above.

It seemed brighter now than before. It made my head hurt.

I remembered staring at that light before, but… I couldn’t remember where I was, or how I got here.

I couldn’t remember anything at all.

I gasped, feeling like I was coming up for air after being held underwater.

I looked around, floored by the urgent, unsettling feeling that I was missing something I needed to go back for… back to wherever I just came from.

Where did I just come from?

A chorus of low, muffled whispers manifested around me.

I blinked, pulling my swimming vision into focus.

“Easy,” a voice said.

I strained to make out a copper-haired woman in white reaching toward me. I tried to recoil, but something restricted my range of motion. I glanced down and whimpered at the sight of shackles binding my wrists to the chair.

What is this?

‘Beware the bird you cage,’ the strange words intruded on my thoughts, and just as I began to struggle, the restraints released. I held my shaking hands in front of me, eyes widening at the livid scrapes marring my palms.

Someone lifted me out of the chair—a man in black fatigues. The motion triggered a slight pain in my right arm, but it was nothing compared to the splitting headache I was hit with when my feet met the ground.

I swayed dizzily. The man steadied me, taking my right arm and turning my palm up. As he waved some sort of device over it, a bright ring of blue light appeared on my wrist.

I blinked hard, certain my eyes were playing tricks on me.

An image appeared above the ring and hovered in midair. I reeled back, startled by it, until I realized… the image was me.

A grisly, red cut hewed one side of my forehead in the picture. I reached up, grazing the gash. It still hurt, but it was sealed now. I gaped at the words in blue floating beside the image:

Aiza, ID # 472986:

Hair: dark brown; Eyes: brown; Height: 5’1”

Weight: 106 lbs.; DOB: December 12, 2116; Age: 14

Status: Residency; Vocational Score: 100.0

My eyes jumped to the itinerary listed below:

Schedule: Tuesday, April 17, 2131:

11:30 A.M.: meeting with Chancellor Thane, floor 28, suite 1. Estimated commute time: approx. 14 mins.

There was a route displayed by a thin, blue line, but I didn’t see much of it before it all vanished.

“Alright, let’s move,” a second man in black ordered, coercing me out of the room, his friend following closely behind.

As we stumbled out into the hall, I racked my brain for some clue as to how I got here, but something felt like it was blocking me from accessing my memories—a disruptive pulse in my head. Finally, I resigned to gazing at the reflections of light as they passed beneath my feet. I was so consumed in trying to keep them from multiplying before my eyes that when I did finally glance up at my surroundings, I nearly fell over.

Cell blocks… dozens and dozens of towering, steel doors lining the hall on either side, each with a small, tinted rectangular window at its center. They looked like they were designed to withstand any attempt at infiltration, whether from within or from out here. Each one had a red number above it. With every cell we passed, I grew more anxious that we would stop in front of one and they’d toss me inside.

Finally, I looked to the man on my right and asked, “What is this place?”

He shot me a brusque look. “The Aureate.”

I frowned, unsure if that was supposed to mean something to me. Before I could work it out, we passed the last cell and filed into an elevator. I heaved a sigh of relief.

The elevator took us up twenty-eight floors, which I only knew because of the two buttons on the console—Sub and 28, the latter of which was illuminated. Finally, with a dismissing ding the doors skated open, revealing what appeared to be a different world entirely, compared to whatever dark underbelly we had just come up from.

Here, the halls were bathed in an iridescent, white light, and a peaceful melody played overhead. Eventually, we came upon a sprawling foyer with six sparkling chandeliers dripping from the ceiling. A fire pit was centered beneath them, flickering with perfectly cadenced yellow flames that lapped up from a bed of glass pebbles, a circle of velvet chairs arranged around it.

As we marched across the palatial lobby, a host of men and women dressed in richly-colored attire bustled around us—none of whom seemed to notice the kid being paraded past them by an armed escort. We crossed under a marble archway and through a pair of glass doors labeled in glowing, gold letters. Chancellor Thane, I read as we passed through the doors and into a spacious office, occupied only by a large glass desk and three black chairs—two in front and a taller one in back, facing me. The walls were decorated in a gold-leafed pattern, and on the back wall, above it all, a great, golden A floated in a halo of light.

One of the men instructed me to sit, so I tentatively slid into one of the more proximate chairs. As the men left, slamming the glass doors behind them, I studied the A on the wall, feeling a strange sense of déjà vu. I placed my head in my palms, combing through my addled mind for any hint as to what I was doing here, but before I could conjure anything helpful, someone entered the room.

I lifted my head, not knowing whether to stand or stay seated as he strode to the other side of the desk with an unreadable expression. Chancellor Thane, I presumed.

The Chancellor was an odd-looking man—tall, thin, and profoundly withered by time and age, with sun-leathered skin and a thick head of gray hair sprucely parted to one side. He had a long, salient nose and a crooked, condescending smile. He wore a black coat with a perfectly pressed arrow collar and long coattails. He stood with his hands folded behind him, accentuating the slight hunch of his back. A pungent, piney scent had trailed behind him when he entered and lingered heavily still.

Chancellor Thane maintained his exacting glare from across the length of the desk as he pulled out his chair and slid into it. Even from this distance, I was struck by the extraordinary paleness of his eyes—two beady, black pupils set against two rings of piercing gray.

To put it plainly, he was terrifying.

The Chancellor placed his hands on the desk’s glass top. His voice creaked like rusty pipes as he finally opened the conversation. “Hello, Aiza.”

I knew he was speaking to me, but the name didn’t feel like mine. It felt as if I was answering for a stranger whose body I occupied only by some cosmic accident of the universe. And now I was her—the girl to whom the name belonged, whose memories I was still missing. The fog was just beginning to lift enough for me to realize that panic might not be an irrational reaction to all this.

“H-hello.” I nearly choked on the word, running a finger across the scar on my forehead, the pain still emanating through my skull.

“I hope you know we didn’t do that to you,” the Chancellor said.

I stared at him uncomprehendingly.

“Your head,” he explained. “It was an accident during the extraction.”

“The what?” My own voice was barely louder than a whisper, but it made my head pound.

“You won’t remember this,” he expounded, “but I’m told you hit your head while trying to board the helicopter. Not to worry. We have an excellent medical team on staff here. They’ll see that your cut heals quickly and properly. You’ll have a small scar at worst. From what I hear, you were fortunate to have made it out of that disaster with such minor injuries.”

Disaster? What is he talking about?

“Are you alright?” the Chancellor beckoned as my thoughts began to deviate.

“Yes,” I lied.

“I’m only saying this because I want you to know that we would never do anything to hurt you, Aiza,” he said. “Rest assured, you’re safe here. You were supposed to be safe this morning, but the Exitus… had other plans.”

“The what?” I asked, but he didn’t answer.

Instead, his gray eyes honed on the red mark above my eye and his expression softened. “I’m sorry I couldn't protect you from it,” he said. “I know this all must seem very confusing to you right now, but in time it will all make sense. You’ll see.” He paused, squinting shrewdly at me before asking, “You don’t remember anything from today… do you?”

I scrambled to search my memory. “I… I can’t remember anything,” I uttered. My breath hitched as the panic waylaid me. I didn’t know where I was, or who I was. I couldn’t remember.

“It’s okay, Aiza.” The Chancellor tried to temper my rising hysteria. “I need you to stay calm so I can explain this to you. Can you do that?”

I nodded, forcing myself to composure.

“Good.” He watched me a moment before going on, as if I was a fire he had stamped out, and he wanted to ensure there wasn’t still a spark or two that might reignite. “There is a reason you can’t remember anything, Aiza,” he continued. “I’ve given you a gift—the gift I give to all who come aboard my sanctuary. The gift of forgetting.”

“What?” I asked dumbly.

“Forgetting,” the Chancellor repeated. “It gives you the power to move forward, to leave your past behind. There was nothing for you in that life, no future. Not like the one we intend to give you here. I think I speak for the entire Directive when I say… we’re all very glad our extraction team was able to deliver you to us safely.”

“You… you keep calling me Aiza,” I stammered. “Is that… my name?”

It felt so inexplicably odd, having to ask if a name was mine.

“It is now. Do you like it?” The Chancellor waited for my answer before continuing. I nodded and he grinned. His grin seemed to mock me, hiding some secret about me that even I didn’t know. “I chose it especially for you,” he went on, “just as carefully as I chose the name of this ship.”

“We’re on a ship?” I blurted.

“Technically, a hovercraft,” the Chancellor clarified. “The largest ever built, with the highest solar-powered propulsor suspension on record. We are currently hovering in the troposphere, roughly twenty-eight thousand feet above sea-level.”

“What…” I trailed hesitantly, “what exactly is this place?”

The Chancellor’s grin crept wider, as if he’d been waiting for me to ask that very question all along. “Why, this”—he swept out his arms—“is the result of some of the world’s most innovative minds joining together, expending immeasurable time and effort, poring over every detail to engineer a failsafe vessel guaranteed to keep us suspended above the ground until we can return safely. It is, as I said, a sanctuary from the disaster below—the only one of its kind. My life’s work for the past decade. This is your new home, Aiza. Welcome to the Aureate.”

“The Aureate?” I repeated, lifting my gaze to the bright, beaming A affixed to the wall behind him, still unable to account for why it looked familiar. “You said there was… a disaster. What happened?”

The Chancellor’s silver eyes bore into mine. “Don’t you worry about that,” he said. “You were meant to forget. All that matters now is that you’re here, and you are safe.” He emphasized the word as if to suggest this was not so for others. “We are the survivors, Aiza. After today, we are all that remain of humankind.” His voice suddenly dropped to a low murmur, as if he was talking to himself now, and I happened to be in earshot, “The beginning of something new…”

“Why am I here?” I asked.

Chancellor Thane blinked, aiming his goading grin at me again. “I told you, Aiza, we have big plans for you. You are going to be an important part of the New World. I know things seem confusing now, but not to worry. Soon all will be made clear. You’ll see.”

You’ll see. My head reeled with a million questions I couldn’t bring myself to ask, and here he was—the man who evidently held all the answers—telling me I had to wait and see.

The Chancellor tapped a button on his desk and the men in black entered again.

“Take her to her room,” he commanded them. “Brief her and run her through tomorrow’s schedule.”

“Yes sir.” One of them nodded. “This way,” he ordered me.

I stood up, but suddenly I felt dizzy again… and the next thing I knew, my head slammed against the floor and the world went dark.

When I finally came to, I felt as if I’d been asleep for hours. I lifted my head and glanced around. I was lying in a big bed, in a spacious, soft-lit room.

I pulled myself up from a pile of pillows, rubbing my temple as I scanned the room. Straight ahead stood a shiny, white and gold dresser, with a mirror hanging above it and doors on either side. To my right, a plush, gold chair sat under a pair of sconce lights radiating a warm glow. It all looked so elegant, so peaceful. But it made me feel uneasy, like I didn’t belong here. Then my gaze panned left, and I spotted something that made my chest pinch.

This door looked different. There was a blinking light next to it.

I clambered out of the bed and hobbled over to read the neon-blue letters flashing next to it.

Secure.

I jiggled the handle, but it didn’t budge.

I lifted both hands and began banging on the door. “Help!” I cried frantically, my heart pounding. “Please! Can anyone hear me? Let me out!”

The longer I stood rapping on the door that wouldn’t open, the more trapped I began to feel. Just when I was ready to pass out again, a two-note beep sounded, a yellow light flashed, and the door opened.

I stumbled out of the room, into what appeared to be a maze of hallways, all identical and seeming to multiply before my eyes into impossible dimensions, like peering through a glass prism. I only lumbered forward a few steps before realizing just how lost I’d be if I ventured any further. I retreated into the room again, pressing my back against the door as it trilled and latched shut behind me. Wherever I was, it appeared I was stuck here for now.

Eventually, I made my way over to the other two doors. I opened the one on the left and found a bathroom, sparkling and spotless. The door on the right led to a large closet neatly stocked with various versions of the uniform I wore now.

I wandered out and stood in front of the gold-framed mirror above the dresser. The girl in the reflection frightened me at first—her hair disheveled, her eyes puffy. The scrape on her forehead was red and agitated beneath the seal, the bruise around it fully fledged in a deep purple. I leaned in closer, searching for any sign of myself in the girl’s haggard face. Some features were viscerally familiar—the curve of her cheeks, the angle and shape of her dark-brown eyes. I touched the abrasion above her right eye. “Ah!” I hissed in pain, glowering at the stranger in the mirror. This was all her fault. She was not me. How could she be, when I had no memory of her life or how she got here?

Then something else caught my eye in the reflection; a golden letter A at the top of my jacket sleeve, like the one I’d seen above the Chancellor’s desk. The Aureate, I dimly remembered him telling me that was the name of this place.

But wait… I tore off the jacket and tried to hold it steady as I examined the golden emblem more closely. I’ve seen this somewhere else, too.

I concentrated on the faint memory, but the closer I came to it, the more I felt a pang… like part of me didn’t want to remember.

The helicopter.

I gasped and looked in the mirror again, my heart thrashing in my chest as the memory struck me like a sky-splitting bolt of lightning—the army in black trying to get me into the helicopter amidst the shaking and turmoil, me falling and smacking my head on the ground just as I was about to climb into it.

“Ah!” I pressed a hand to my head, staggering back as today’s events suddenly came rushing back—the rumble of the earth; the commotion of the mob crammed around the helicopter, fighting desperately to get on; my guardian standing on our porch, nodding for me to go with them as the earth shook us blind; my own screams as I plunged toward that dark underworld of debris; the flock of birds bursting out of that metal cage when it crashed to the ground.

‘Beware the bird you cage… Beware the beast that beats its wings… For it, the earth quivers and quakes….’

Broken lines from the poem continued ringing at me. I doubled over, clutching my chest, feeling like I was scraping for oxygen in deep space. I backed into the dresser and gripped the ledge, if only to feel anchored to the present somehow, to convince myself that I wasn’t still out there, that wherever I was now, I was safe.

Safe…

The scourge of flashbacks desisted with that one word, silence settling across the minefield of memories detonating in my mind.

That was what the Chancellor wanted me to know I was safe from. The Exitus. The disaster that had been destroying the earth for over a decade. The Chancellor said I was meant to forget it. But how could I? I’d spent my whole life in its shadow, learning to fear it.

Now it was over… and I was still alive.

I turned to the girl in the mirror again, this time finding her easier to face. I was her. I was…

“Anna!” a voice signaled distantly, supplying the name I couldn’t quite summon on my own. It was the voice of that boy who came zooming past me earlier, calling out my name. “Anna!”

“Anna,” I repeated to the mirror, finding some small, ineffably grounding comfort in at least remembering my own name… even if it wasn’t my name anymore.

What did the Chancellor call me?

I looked down at the glowing, blue ring on my wrist and tapped it.

Aiza, ID # 472986:

Hair: dark brown; Eyes: brown; Height: 5’1”;

Weight: 106 lbs.; DOB: December 12, 2116; Age: 14;

Status: Residency; Vocational Score: 100.0.

Current reporting status: recess until further notice.

I tapped my wrist again and the blue words vanished.

“Aiza,” I said the name aloud, looking myself in the eye. “My name is Aiza. I’m on the Aureate. I’m safe.” I glanced over my shoulder, taking in the strange room. “I’m safe here.”

I repeated the mantra again and again, still struggling to parry morbid memories from this morning.

I couldn’t remember anything before today, but for now it was enough.

At least I remembered how I got here.

A few minutes later, a nurse was ushered into my room by two men in black. She listened to my heartbeat, made me follow a dizzying little light with my eyes and then told me that I needed to get plenty of rest tonight. She fished a capsule of pills out of her pocket, dispensed two of them into my hand and told me to take them once I had eaten something.

Right on cue, a man in white entered, wheeling in a hot meal on a cart. The men in black proceeded to go over tomorrow’s schedule with me, but I couldn’t concentrate with the tantalizing smell of food wafting through the air. I was starving.

Once they all vacated, I uncovered the steaming plate of pork, potatoes, green beans, and bread. My stomach growled in anticipation. I picked up the fork and began to dig in, but I didn’t get more than a few bites down before I started to feel sick again.

I covered the plate, disappointed, and about an hour later, someone came to take it away. Shortly after that, the lights in the room dimmed. I swallowed the pills I’d been given, kicked off my boots, and climbed back into the bed, breathing in the unfamiliar scent of the pillow and waiting for sleep to come.

But, of course, it didn’t.

That night, I lay awake in yet another new room, with all the fears and unknowns that the darkness had a singular way of illuminating dancing over my head as I stared into the tenebrous void, sabotaged every time I shut my eyes by the unwelcome images of all I had witnessed before they brought me here.

“Don’t look back,” a voice seemed to say to me.

The soldier who saved me. What was his name? Tye?

“Don’t look down,” Tye had warned as we dangled by that harness. “You’re safe now.”

Safe. Now that the fog was lifting, I realized that most of the paranoia I’d experienced earlier was just the last of whatever they’d injected me with wearing off—the hallways outside multiplying into a treacherous labyrinth, or the girl in the mirror, whom I was convinced was not me. But some of the fear was real, and now that I was lucid, I felt it more sharply than ever.

The following days were an oscillating riptide of shell shock giving way to acceptance of my new life. But as days stretched to months, and months to years, that acceptance settled deeper, making its home as I made this place mine. In all that time, I never did find the boy who called out my name, and I never remembered anything before the day the Exitus hit, which I did my best to block out.

“Don’t look back. Don’t look down.” That became the rule. Like the Chancellor said, we were meant to forget it… the catastrophe we’d abandoned the world to while we turned our backs and fled to the sky, just as those birds had done upon finally breaking free of their cage.

THREE YEARS & SEVEN MONTHS LATER

I awoke bright and early to the skirling wail of my alarm and a deluge of light flooding my room. I freed my right arm from under my pillow, holding my tag over the scanner.

Tag was the term for that glowing, blue ring embedded in my wrist. Everyone here had one. Our tags linked us to a system called the Archive—or Arc—which fed into Control. If Control was the beating heart of the ship, the Arc was its veins, coursing through the entire infrastructure, charting our attendance, punctuality, training stats, class progress, violations, health, and so on. It tabulated everything into our vocational scores and reported it all to the Directive. But perhaps a tag’s most vital function was its ability to track our whereabouts twenty-four hours a day, seven days a week. Our tag served as our key to get anywhere on the ship we needed to. If there was a door that our tag didn’t access, then it wasn’t meant for us… and it alerted the Directive about that too.

I rubbed my eyes and squinted at today’s schedule hovering before me.

Schedule: Monday, December 6, 2134:

Breakfast: 8:00 A.M. in the Mess Hall. ECT: 11 mins.

Core Training: 9:00 A.M. in gymnasium 6. ECT: 7 mins.

Lunch: 12:00 P.M. in the Mess Hall. ECT: 7 mins.

Eco-irrigation lab: 1:00 P.M. in lab 19. ECT: 8 mins.

And on it went, the blue line that mapped out my route for the day snaking all over the ship. By the looks of it, it would be fourteen hours before I was back in this bed, with lots to do in between.

I sighed, flinging my covers off and trudging to my closet.

As I stood in front of the mirror above my dresser, zipping up my blue jacket and braiding the stray strands of hair away from my face, my gaze wandered to the scar above my right eye, so settled into the skin now that it was nearly invisible. No matter how much it faded, though, the memory of that day was always fresh in my mind. It taunted me nightly, along with the few other fragments I’d retained.

I remembered my name, only because of the boy who called it out the day they brought me here. I remembered the poem, only because of the birds I saw breaking free of their cage on that same day. And, most riddling of all, I distinctly remembered a small gold coin, but couldn’t seem to recall its significance. That was it. No matter how hard I’d tried over the years to expound on those diminutive memories, I never could.

“Forgetting is a gift,” I reminded myself of the Chancellor’s words as I headed out the door.

My room was located at the edge of a Residency boarding floor, tucked around a well-concealed corner that dead-ended just past my door. I didn’t mind the seclusion. I only had one neighbor, whom I actively avoided. It was an exceptionally good day when I didn’t have to put up with her antagonizing remarks in passing. This morning, though, I bumped right into her, instantly triggering a vicious reaction.

“Well, look who it is.” She narrowed her green eyes, flinging her blonde locks over her shoulder. “I see they let you live another day.”

“Sorrell,” I huffed, in no mood after the unspeakably little sleep I’d caught last night. “Look, I’m busy. You’re busy. Can we not do this today?”

Sorrell ignored me, taking a brazen step forward. “At least when they do come for you,” she said, “we won’t have to run into each other like this anymore.”

“Looking forward to it,” I retorted.

“It’s only a matter of time, defect.” She brushed my shoulder in a very non-accidental manner as she set off down the hall.

“Okay, great, I’ll see you down there!” I waved in her direction, but she was already gone. I dropped my hand, but not before someone else saw.

She came around the corner, already smirking.

“Morning.” I gave an embarrassed wince.

“This is why we eat alone,” Kyla goaded.

“We eat alone because I’m your only friend,” I rejoined, crossing over to her.

“You’re my charge,” she reminded. “And if you’re going to start the day off with that attitude, I’ll make you fend for yourself. I’m serious.”

She shot me a lethal look. She had a whole arsenal of those.

It was true. Kyla and I didn’t start as friends. A few years ago, she’d been assigned as my warden, a fact she still reminded me of daily.

“Come on, let’s get down to the Mess,” I said, starting toward the elevators. “I’m starving.”

“Easy,” Kyla chided. “They’re not going to run out.”

“I smell coffee,” I sang, coaxing her along.

“You hate coffee.”

“Yeah, but you need coffee to restore you to your human form,” I responded while we waited for the elevator. “And I said I hate the coffee here because it tastes like battery acid… and dirt.”

Kyla’s face contorted with repulsion. “Thanks for that,” she muttered as the elevator doors finally opened. “I’m still not convinced you’ve ever tasted real coffee,” she added as we piled inside. “You were like twelve when they brought you here.”

“I was fourteen,” I corrected, hitting the button. “And I might have. You don’t know.”

“Neither do you,” she jibed, leaning against the elevator cab as we plunged toward the seventh floor.

The doors opened, spitting us out onto the serried concourse known as the Main Deck, bustling as ever with passengers hurrying this way and that, chattering over the music as they went about their routines.

“It’s supposed to keep everyone calm,” I remembered Reuben saying about the music on my first day here as Chopin’s Nocturne No. 7 played.

Currently, Couperin’s Les Barricades Mystérieuses—The Mysterious Barricades—graced the halls. “The quintessence of French Baroque music,” Thane had once called it.

Chancellor Thane was the one with a great affinity for classical music, especially piano, believing it to possess the power to induce a tone of order and structure. Maybe he was right. Maybe if the music were to stop one day, everything would turn to chaos. It seemed doubtful, though, since everyone mostly tuned it out anyway.

Suddenly Kyla’s arm shot out and smacked me in the abdomen.

“Ow!” I stopped short and glared at her.

“What did we talk about?” she scolded. “Commanders don’t follow residents.”

I rolled my eyes and stepped back, sweeping my arm out in an exaggerated, after you.

“Thank you.” Kyla strode ahead. “Have to maintain my reputation as a formidable commander somehow, now that I’m stuck babysitting you all the time.”

Babysitting. She loved using that term, I think mostly because she knew I hated it.

“I don’t need a babysitter,” I reminded her for maybe the thousandth time. “I’m eighteen.”

We arrived at the Mess Hall, more commonly referred to as the Mess, and held our tags out to be scanned. The brutish, bald commander at the door waved us inside.

“You’re not eighteen, yet,” Kyla pointed out as we grabbed trays and jumped in line. “And Thane seems to think otherwise. But you’re more than welcome to take that up with him.”

“Right. Then you can be promoted to Mess patrol with that guy,” I pointed back to the rough-faced commander at the entrance.

Kyla glanced at him, an amused smile stealing across her lips.

“You’re just as hideously terrifying as him,” I added. “Especially before coffee.”

Kyla’s grin vanished. She smacked my arm and slid her tray across the counter as the crew girl held out a steaming spoonful of nutrient-enhanced mush. “Speaking of coffee…” Kyla mumbled, making a beeline for the coffee cart as soon as the slop hit her bowl. I waited for my serving, then thanked the crew and darted after her.

Despite the two long years Kyla and I had spent practically joined at the hip, I hardly knew anything about her except that she was in her mid-twenties, had a caffeine dependency, and had been training for the army before the Aureate, as was the case with most commanders. Her light-brown hair was always in a neat ponytail and her sweet smile betrayed her cynical front. She hardly ever wore her uniform jacket, so most days I spent following her and staring at the tattoo peeking out of her tank top—a silhouette of a bird in flight on her shoulder. I’d always liked it. I didn’t know why she got it, but neither did she anymore.

Truthfully, Kyla was my favorite babysitter, if I’m endorsing her word. When she was first assigned to me, I didn’t like her any more than her numerous predecessors, and the sentiment was mutual. But then one day, early in our time together, we were headed to breakfast, when suddenly she turned to me and uttered six words I’d only dreamed of hearing.

“You want to play hooky today?”

I thought she was kidding, but the next thing I knew, she was donning her black jacket and marching up to the Chancellor’s office to tell him I had food poisoning, or something that wouldn’t have landed me in quarantine. I had to get checked out at Med, but I gave a pretty convincing performance. Meanwhile, Kyla slipped a case of latex gloves under her jacket, which we smuggled out and filled at the water fountains to chuck over the glass railings at people during passing periods. We’d managed to change posts a few times before we were caught, at which point Kyla just looked at me and yelled, “Run!”

The whole thing was ridiculous and juvenile and we got reprimanded for it later, but it was also the most fun I’d ever had here. That was the day I decided to stop challenging Thane’s chaperone initiative and try not to get Kyla fired, much to her chagrin.

“She was her shadow, but now they’re… friends,” I’d once heard a resident boy whisper about us, and he wasn’t wrong, despite what Kyla might’ve said.

“Ready?” Kyla turned from the coffee cart with her paper cup filled to the brim.

I nodded and followed her to an empty table in the corner. We slid into our seats, facing the heaping bowls of slop on our trays.

Kyla reached for her coffee, throwing back at least half of it with a few swigs. “Look at this place”—she skimmed the overcrowded Mess—“it’s crawling with blackvests.” She shuddered, as if she didn’t wear the same uniform as all of them and sleep in the same barracks.

I shrugged. “What did you expect, after last night’s announcement?”

“Ugh,” Kyla grumbled, “don’t remind me. I don’t know if I can take another six months of this place.”

Last night, we’d all packed into the Assembly Hall like sardines, only to hear Chancellor Thane announce that the latest estimate for our return to the ground was projected to be yet another six months out. And a resounding, unanimous groan from each and every otherwise grateful passenger of the Aureate immediately followed.

At the very first assembly, they told us we’d be returning to the ground in one year. Now it had been over three, and the Directive kept pushing it back. Their latest gambit to distract us from the endless wait? The exciting prospect that they’d soon be naming our new Regna Primary—the one chosen to rule us on the ground—as if we didn’t all know the title would go to Chancellor Thane. Who else would the Directive have chosen?

The Directive was the syndicate of the ship’s benefactors—500 of Eiena’s most affluent magnates recruited by Chancellor Thane in the early stages of the Exitus to invest in a sustainable deliverance from the impending disaster. Of course, none of them actually accepted their invitation to sponsor the project until much later, once the quakes threatened to drive their fortunes and empires into extinction. By then, the Aureate’s construction had already begun in the Dead Zone outside of Eiena, far out of range of any uninvited prominent figures who might’ve tried to claim a place on the ship.

Once the Directive had been established and funding to complete the ship secured, they began the rigorous selection process for the other 19,500 souls who would comprise the ship’s remaining ranks: 6,500 in the Command, 6,500 in the Residency, and 6,500 in the crew.

Numerous roles made up the Command: technicians, mechanics, heads of staff, doctors, nurses, trainers, instructors. Primarily, though, Command was made up of commanders—soldiers in black, like the ones who brought me here years ago. Most of us called them blackvests—the muscle employed to enforce Directive law, an authoritative entity the rest of us had learned not to cross. The Directive liked to make examples of those who did not abide by the rules, especially us residents.

As residents, we were often reminded that we were the reason the Aureate was created—the carefully selected parts to an algorithm for repopulation. We were all very young when the Directive began their search, screening every eligible child in Eiena, and their families, as far back as they could trace the genealogy using questionably-obtained medical records. Those who passed the initial genetics phase of testing were then monitored into adolescence using advanced silent surveillance tech. All our lives, the Directive watched us, and we never knew. They graded us each on a sixteen-point scale that averaged into our overall preliminary score. Only the kids with the top 6,500 scores in the nation were brought onto the ship the same way I was—by force. Once here, our preliminary scores became our vocational scores, subject to change, and set to determine what positions we’d be assigned in the New World.

Any delusions I might’ve harbored for securing a role of merit in the New World died long ago, since, according to the two factors that quantified a resident, I really shouldn’t even be here. I was found at a police station when I was a year old—no traceable family, no sufficient genetic data. I used to believe they’d made an exception for me there since I’d managed to pull the highest prelim score on record, except I didn’t really do that either. That perfect one hundred I arrived with—the number that set the curve for all other residents and made them all despise me from the beginning—it was a fluke. It had taken me just three months to sink that score down to a dismal 64.2, the hissing whispers of jealousy that once circulated around me quickly turning to mockery. I was no longer resented by my fellow residents for my outstanding score, but rather disparaged as a disappointment, or as Sorrell so poignantly put it earlier, a defect. And that wasn’t the worst of it. No matter how much I’d improved my score over the years, it didn’t stop them from whispering that I was the one.

See, with 500 members in the Directive and 6,500 in each of the three underlying classes, the original census should’ve totaled out to exactly 20,000 passengers onboard the Aureate. Only there weren’t 20,000 here.

There were exactly 20,001.

They showed us the census once at an early assembly, and only once, as that number quickly bred rumors that one person had wound up on the ship by error—the one in 20,001.

Despite the Directive’s assertions that the passenger count was intentional, the rumors grew, as did the theory that I was their mistake. And that wouldn’t bother me so much… if it weren’t for the fact that mistakes tended to disappear here.

It happened mostly in the beginning. A squad of commanders would come marching into the Mess at dinner. They’d make a big show of dragging someone away who had showed refractory behavior, or worse, spoke of things they still remembered after they were scrubbed.

The scrub was what they did to me nearly four years ago when they stuck me with that syringe and I woke up unable to remember anything before that day. It turned out, they did that to everyone their first day here, except those in the Directive, of course.

The scrub was meant to be our blank slate, but it was fragile. Prone to error. Subject to triggers. Even our own names could act as a trigger, which was why we were all assigned new ones. In most cases, only a few tiny details lingered in one’s mind—flickers from their past that never quite rendered a complete picture. But sometimes a memory was too deeply embedded to be erased, like I supposed my last day on the ground was. Maybe I wasn’t the only one who remembered it, but we had all learned by now not to speak of it, for fear of being rescrubbed.

Rulebreaker or rescrubbed—those were generally the two types of residents with commanders following them around like an unfortunate shadow. Of course, I was neither of those things, but for whatever reason, Thane deemed it necessary for Kyla to shadow me… which only fed the rumors further.

Many passengers who spoke of their memories were taken away and never heard from again, but a rare few of them did turn back up… wiped clean and outwardly at peace. Inside, though, they were nothing more than hollow shells of themselves. Most were harmless. They would just sit and stare ahead, waiting for an order to follow. But every so often, one of them would start to look around and realize they didn’t know where they were. They’d become aggravated, even violent, and if they didn’t return to normal on their own, that’s when their shadow would intervene. And by intervene, I mean stick them with a needle that made them suddenly very still again. That was what it meant to be rescrubbed. And those were just the ones they let back out to frighten us. Most were remanded and never seen again… which inspired rumors of their executions.

The Directive never officially addressed these allegations. They seemed content to let the grisly rumors fly without ever saying a word to discredit them, not necessarily because they were true, but because they had proven very effective at keeping the rest of us in line. So effective, in fact, that no one had gone missing in quite some time now.

Still, Sorrell wasn’t the only one who liked to make jokes about me being the next to disappear. Even if I didn’t believe all the rumors, most of those kids who went missing never resurfaced, and weren’t likely to until the day we grounded again… whenever the Salvus Team finally decided to send for us.

See, three years ago, after the quakes had finally ceased, the Directive used drones to scout any land left standing above sea level. After months of searching, they found an island, which they named Salvus, meaning saved, and sent down a designated team of 500 to start clearing the mess and laying the foundation for our New World. They began testing the atmosphere, prepping the soil, identifying viable water sources, building basic housing, even establishing electrical lines. It was supposed to take a year. But then one year became two, two became three. Now we were closing in on four. But until the Salvus Team gave the green light, we would wait and train up here… for as long as it took.

This was our world now. It was the show we put on every day from wake-up to curfew, readying ourselves for the call to return home. Why did we work so tirelessly to keep up such an elaborate show, when there was no one left to see us succeed or fail? The answer was simple. The show was for us, to convince ourselves that fleeing to this ship to ride out the extinction-level catastrophe was not a mistake, that we might have a chance out there again someday.

The future was all that mattered now. We were the only ones left. Failure was not an option.

Still… every once in a while, that invasive fear came creeping in… that our survival was a mistake, that we were not meant to live in the world as it was now.

“Hello-o, Aiza?” Kyla interrupted my wandering thoughts as I swirled my spoon around in my oatmeal.

I looked up.

“Did you hear me? Eat! You can’t be late again today.”

I supposed after being late three times last week, I had that coming. I dunked my spoon into the bowl and ate a few bites. No matter how sick I grew of forcing down the same breakfast every morning, I knew how sorry I’d be if I showed up to training on an empty stomach. We had all made that mistake, and we only made it once.

We grew some food on the ship’s solar range, but it was mostly for teaching purposes. There wasn’t room to grow enough to feed 20,000, and it wasn’t until this year that we even saw a crop, so the menu mostly consisted of food that had been vacuum-sealed, flash-frozen, reheated, and rationed sparingly. Breakfast was always the same mush made from a powdered mix. It didn’t seem so inedible to me. Even without the memories, I knew being picky was a luxury I never had on the ground. Sure, most of the homes I was placed in fed me decently, when I was around for meals. But according to my file, I was usually too busy running away—a bad habit of mine which had landed me in twelve different homes in the thirteen years I’d spent in the system.

Interestingly, though, the last home I lived in—the one the commanders pulled me from the morning the Exitus hit—was the only home I’d never tried to run from. I’d been living there for a year and eight months when they came for me. A personal record. I always wondered what it was about that home that I’d found so much more bearable than the others, or if maybe something had happened before I wound up there to make me stay.

Eiena’s history was one of the few things they’d bothered to re-educate us about after we were scrubbed. We were a small country, our independence established during the Renationing when so many new countries were formed, the world’s borders redrawn. Eiena adopted the same governing structure as many of the other new nations at the time—a monarchy ruled by a Regna Primary, usually appointed by birthright or, in rare cases, by vote after a previous Primary had been unseated. The Primary would then choose their ancillary who, in time, he or she could elect to marry. In this case, the two would rule as Primaries together. Our most recent Regna Primary before Eiena fell to the Exitus had appointed several ancillaries during her reign, but she never married any of them.

Under her rule, Eiena had risen to power more quickly than any other nation, its thriving economy drawing people in from all over the world like bees to a fresh spring flower. By the time I was born, it was the flourishing new capital of the west. They only showed us a handful of pictures in class—gorgeous, glistening towers jutting up into a proud, spectacular skyline, a paradisal oasis amidst the desert. At least… that was Altus, the country’s capital. There was another side to Eiena, however—a place little seen or heard of, where the orphaned and the impoverished dwelled.

Eiena’s population had grown at such an exponential rate that eventually we fell into recession. When the Tsutrean War struck, everything crashed, and thus the Harena was born—an outlying bohemia of makeshift shacks, shelters, and poorhouses built in haste and too close together in a desert wasteland not originally intended for human inhabitants at all. This was where the overflow was exiled to when the work and housing ran out.

It wasn’t uncommon for wards like me to spend their entire time in the system rambling around the Harena. Desperate families would take in a child, and in turn, the government would grant them money to put food on the table and keep the lights on. When I first saw the slides in class, I felt an eerie homesickness for the decrepit buildings and narrow dirt roads, the train tracks that ran along the inner border, separating us from the rest of Eienan society. I sank in my seat that day, worried the other residents would somehow know this was where I came from. I was fairly certain none of them shared the same background.

Beep, beep! My tag went off at the same time as Kyla’s, notifying us both that it was almost time to head to training.

“Aiza, seriously, finish up,” Kyla urged. “Look, we’ve only got twelve minutes now to get to the gym.”

“Yeah, because my trainer’s really going to care if I’m late,” I muttered.

“He’s not who I’m worried about,” Kyla sniped.

She was right. If we were late again, it would get reported to Thane, and then we’d both hear about it.

I wolfed down the last few bites of my breakfast. “Done.”

“Good,” Kyla said, unimpressed. “Now come on, let’s⁠—”

Crash!

We both turned with a start toward the disruption. A commander had slammed his fist on the counter so hard, it launched a stack of trays into the air. He was yelling at a crew member in a hairnet who stood behind the oatmeal vats, clasping the ladle in his hand like a crucifix.

I couldn’t make out much of the exchange over the murmur of the Mess, but it seemed this commander didn’t feel he’d been rationed enough. The crew member was half his size and looked like he was about to swallow his tongue in fear. He mumbled something, motioning to the kitchen, probably explaining that more was on the way.

The commander reached across the glass and grabbed the crew member by his collar. The boy whimpered, maybe out of terror, but more likely because now the heaters warming the empty vats were directly under him. The commander was oblivious as he berated the boy about how he didn’t have time to wait.

“Maybe you should just do your job and have my breakfast ready when you’re supposed to, grunt,” he taunted through gritted teeth.

I looked to the cordoned-off section of Directive-designated tables clustered around their exclusive buffet. They watched the disturbance with elusive expressions, carrying on with their conversations as best they could, none lifting a finger to save the crew member. One of them actually pointed and made a joke, and the entire table fluttered with laughter.

“Can’t we get through one meal without one of these goons short-circuiting?” Kyla scoffed. “Being stuck in this place is really starting to get to people.” She glanced sideways at the hotheaded commander. “Although, I’m pretty sure that guy was certifiable to begin with.”

I nodded, watching a few other commanders call off their colleague, forcing him to unhand the crew member.

“Back off!” he yelled, shoving past them and stomping off.

Kyla snickered. “How did they miss him when they were locking up the crazies?”

I shrugged, half tempted to point out that she shared his rank, but I knew better. Kyla wasn’t like the other commanders. She was more like me—an outcast among her order.

Over the years, I’d gleaned that Kyla had done something a while back that caused her to fall out of favor with the Command, which was how she wound up on babysitting detail. What it was, I didn’t know, and I didn’t dare to ask. She got enough harassment for it, and it had put her in a perpetually bad mood these last few years.

There was only one commander whom Kyla didn’t despise, and we were going to see him after breakfast—the real reason she was in such a rush.

I stood and reached for my tray, when suddenly a loud burst of laughter erupted behind me. I cringed and looked over my shoulder.

Sure enough, there she sat, on a table in the middle of the Mess, the focal point of attention as always. Sorrell. She was smiling and batting her lashes coquettishly at one of the many residents presently flocking her.

Kyla groaned at the gaudy display. “Someone won’t like that. You seen her yet today?”

I skimmed the hall until I found her—the girl with pretty coils of obsidian hair and round, tortoise-patterned glasses. She was seated in the Directive section, bent over her tablet as usual. “Right where she always is,” I said.

The girl lifted her gaze, adjusting her glasses as she watched Sorrell flash her current courter a smile.

“We could be eating in this hall for decades, and Sorrell still wouldn’t notice her.” I tsked.

“Probably for the best,” Kyla rebuffed. “The Directive will choose for her anyway, like they will for every resident.”

“She’s not a resident.” I gestured to the girl in the glasses, her soft-brown cheeks blushing as she turned away.

“Right,” Kyla nodded. “Not anymore.”

She had been once, though. Back in the beginning, she wore the same blue uniform as Sorrell and me. Then one day, years ago, she waltzed into the Mess wearing the lush colors flaunted only by those in the Directive. It was the first and last time anyone had ever seen a resident jump rank like that, and honestly, no one envied her for it.

The poor girl looked just as uncomfortable sitting in their section now as she did then, surrounded by members all much older than her, nose buried in her work. The only time she ever looked up was to steal the occasional pining gaze at Sorrell. I knew it had to be lonely for her, being stuck with those old crows ever since they granted her a seat at their table, but what she and the other residents saw in Sorrell that was so incurable, I would never understand.

Thankfully, we didn’t have decades to endure meals in the Mess. Just six more months and then we’d all be out of here. Sorrell would be paired with one lucky resident within that time, and leave behind a string of broken hearts.

Technically, they began pairing residents for repopulation a few years ago, but for obvious reasons, it quickly sparked conflict. So the Directive put the pairing program to rest, to allow us to focus on our training.

I was always relieved I hadn’t been paired during that initial round. They must’ve been planning to start it back up again, though. At our last meeting, Chancellor Thane had intimated that I would be paired soon. I didn’t ask when. I didn’t want to know.

“Alright.” I turned to Kyla. “Let’s get out of here.”

“Finally,” she heaved dramatically.

As we discarded our trays and muddled through the doors with the rest of the departing crowd, someone elbowed me, causing me to stumble back onto someone else’s toes. I turned to apologize, but fell speechless when I saw whose shoes I’d stepped on.

The Directive girl. Sorrell’s secret admirer.

“S-sorry…”

“No worries.” She smiled politely, pushing up her glasses and straightening her orange blazer. Then suddenly her arm shot out, catching the door before it closed on me. “After you,” she said.

“Thanks.” I collected myself and stepped through.

She started to say something as she followed me out, but then she spotted something behind me and suddenly took off down the hall.

I looked around, but I wasn’t sure what had made her flee.

Then I heard it—the cawing laughter of Sorrell and her clique emerging.

I turned to make myself scarce too, but I froze, seeing I had stepped into a cold, familiar shadow.

Shoulders brushed past me as I slowly raised my gaze, knowing precisely whose silver eyes I’d find staring back at me. Chancellor Thane’s.

He stood with his hands folded behind his hunched back, peering down at me from his aerie—a tall window that angled out over the Main Deck from which he observed us during passing periods like a hawk perched in its nest, surveying everything below with a sharp eye.

Thane was the new shadow now.

No one feared the Exitus anymore—just the one who saved us from it.

“You coming?” Kyla called from several paces ahead.

“Yeah.” I blinked and caught up to her. We can’t be late again.

And we wouldn’t have been… if not for what happened next.

“Impudent reprobate!” a gruff voice thundered down the hall.

The foot-traffic grinded to a standstill as everyone gathered to watch.

Debussy’s Claire de Lune played as I peered through the cluster of heads crowded in front of me, watching the portly old man from the Directive yell at a boy from the crew.

The boy was kneeling on the floor, scrubbing the baseboards, but he paused his work, wiping his forehead with the back of his wrist. His messy, bronze hair was slightly too long and fell over his dark brows. His thin, white shirt was missing a button at the top, the white apron tied around his waist smeared with black grime. His pants were the same gray shade as the A signet on his shoulder and the single arrow underneath it. Behind him, a bucket filled with dark, murky water sat out in the middle of the hall. Some of it appeared to have splattered on the man’s neatly pressed pants—the source of all the upset.

“You can’t just leave this putrid bucket of filth out in the middle of the hall!” the old man reprimanded him. “Can’t you see people are walking? Some of us can’t go about our day covered in this swill!”

“Very sorry, sir,” the crew boy uttered with the perfect balance of obligatory deference and numbness, as if these apologies were a well-practiced routine for him.

“You’re sorry,” the man grumbled as the boy bent his head and slid the bucket out of his way. “Give me your tag, I’m reporting this!” He seized the boy’s wrist and ran a scanner over the blue ring, releasing him only after it beeped. “Next time watch it!”

“Yes sir,” the crew boy replied, rubbing his wrist.

The man gave one last grousing harrumph and stormed away.

The boy resumed his work, pretending not to notice the swarm of onlookers he’d attracted, swiping the unruly bronze hair out of his eyes as he continued scrubbing.

That could’ve been the end of the debacle… if it weren’t for a certain individual in the crowd who’d witnessed the whole ordeal, and savored subjecting crew members to public humiliation even more than the petulant man seemed to. Quickly, before the audience dispersed, Sorrell seized her opportunity. She strutted through the crowd, turning every head as she marched up to the boy, projecting her voice for all to hear, “Poor little drudge…”

The hallway instantly gridlocked again. I had a sick feeling, but as the other spectators huddled around me, I couldn’t seem to tear myself away.

“Hey, if it makes you feel better,” Sorrell taunted the crew member with a nasty grin, “I think you’re doing a great job.”

He didn’t look at her. He just clenched his jaw and scrubbed until his knuckles turned white, avoiding further provocation.

I felt my stomach churn. I should’ve kept walking. I was already late. But even Kyla seemed to have forgotten about that for the moment.

“Except, I think you missed a spot,” Sorrell mocked, biting her nail and leering maliciously.

The boy sighed, still not meeting her gaze, and it struck me that he looked too young to be in crew, perhaps closer to my age.

“Just one little spot”—Sorrell gave her audience an ostentatious smile—“right… here!” She lifted her foot and gave the bucket a swift kick, sending it skidding into the crew member, the dirty water splashing across his face, soaking his hair and uniform.

Sorrell chuckled obscenely as the boy struggled to wipe the stinging solvent away.

The entire hall ignited with murmurs of amusement. Some residents’ jaws hung ajar, their eyes bugged wide, some pressed fists to their mouths and winced, some howled with crude, jeering ooo’s as the muck pooled around him.

“What a mess,” Sorrell sneered. “You’d better clean this up before he comes back. I hate to think what would happen if you were reported twice in one day.”

She sauntered away, snickering insidiously.

I shot her the most loathing glare I could muster as she pushed past me. I had been the butt of Sorrell’s cruel jokes enough times to know how it felt.

As the crowd disbanded, I lingered a moment, watching the boy seethe and chuck his brush into the overturned bucket. I wanted to help, but Kyla’s hand landed on my arm. “Don’t,” she warned. “We’ll just make more trouble.”

“But—” I motioned to the small lake that had formed around him.

“I know,” she said, then her eyes gestured upward.

I followed her prompting gaze to the window where Chancellor Thane still stood, having watched the whole escapade. I glowered, then remembered myself and turned away.

“Come on, we need to go,” Kyla said sullenly.

I sighed, glancing one last time at the crew boy. He stood, teeth gnashed, shoving his wet hair haphazardly off his forehead as he flipped the bucket upright, then whipped out a small rag from his apron and threw it on the floor to sop up some of the mess.

He must’ve noticed me staring, because he paused suddenly, glancing halfway between the floor and me. He probably assumed I was relishing in his humiliation like the others. I was a resident, after all. It wasn’t as though I was really going to help him.

It wasn’t just Sorrell. All the residents harassed the crew, maybe because they were the only ones lower than us in the social stratum. The crew was assembled in haste just before the ship left the ground, each crew member granted admittance onto the Aureate simply by contracting themselves to a lifetime of labor. Perhaps that was why residents considered it their prerogative to torment them. I never felt the need, maybe because crew members were generally a few years my seniors. Or maybe it just seemed pointless to me to make their lives more miserable than ours. But Sorrell had gone way too far just now, and this was one of those times when I wished someone would do something about it.

But that wasn’t how it worked.

“Aiza!” Kyla yelled, already halfway down the hall.

I sighed, but just as I turned to leave, the boy leaned down to pick his towel up off the floor… and something fell from his collar.

I squinted at the strange, blue glint of light in the center of the gold pendant that dangled from his neck as he wrung the towel into the bucket.

How does he have that? I wondered. I’d never seen a crew member wear such a non-uniform piece. Anything we had on us was confiscated and burned the day we boarded. It didn’t look like he was being all that careful to hide it.

“Now, Aiza!” Kyla snapped.

I blinked, pulling my gaze away from the mysterious artifact.

I’m sorry, I told the crew boy silently as I slipped past him and followed Kyla to the gym… which we were, in fact, eight minutes late to.

The next day, my alarm went off at 7:30 A.M., light instantly saturating my room. Just once, I would’ve liked to wake up to the sunrise, to be eased gently into the day. I assumed there was still a sun out there. Our solar-powered propulsors had to run on something.

I stretched my arms out, blinking in the synthetic light as my schedule hovered in front of me. I squinted, not sure I was reading it correctly.

Schedule: Tuesday, December 7, 2134:

Preparatory session: 8:00 A.M., studio 4, floor 23

ECT: approx. 16 mins.

Oh no. My heart was already thrumming in my chest as I kicked off the covers and sprang to my feet, barely catching my balance.

No, no, no! Not already. Not today.

This was the day Chancellor Thane had warned me about, the day I would meet the person I’d been paired with. My palms were already sweating. I would rather spend the day training. I knew how to run an obstacle course, fasten a tourniquet, treat soil for planting and water for drinking, even how to build a foundation using isolation bearings… but being something to someone? That was one thing I’d never learned how to do. I always ran from the people I was supposed to be close to. I ran from eleven homes—all of them chosen for me, just as this person would be.

The only difference was that here, I had nowhere to run.

I grabbed a shirt from my closet. Not that one. I tossed aside the blue shirt that had been mistakenly issued to me and was two sizes too big, then grabbed another and quickly finished dressing. I brushed my teeth, splashed some water on my face and tried to curb my anxiousness as I stood before the mirror, braiding the front of my hair with shaking fingers.

Kyla’s knock came at the door. Don’t panic, I told myself, but it did little to ease my nerves as she and I made our way upstairs. As we approached the studio doors, I noticed Kyla walking behind me, contrary to her rule.

“Aren’t you coming?” I turned to her.

She shook her head. “Sorry. Thane’s orders. But hey, I’ll see you on the other side.”

The other side of what? I wondered as she left and I entered the studio alone. A woman at the front desk pointed to a chair and invited me to wait there until Roxanne was ready for me.

Roxanne. What a way to start the day.

I took my seat, my pale, puffy-faced reflection assaulting me from three mirror angles while Mozart played overhead, Le Nozze di Figaro. The zippy, swelling, almost dooming symphony of strings felt befitting for what awaited me today, starting with Roxanne and her loose cannon of backhanded remarks.

Roxanne was a prominent styling consultant for the Directive, but today her talents were reserved especially for me. I had only met her one other time, about a week ago. She was getting a feel for her canvas, she’d informed me while completely invading my personal space. I guess that should’ve been my first clue that this was coming. It was odd, though. As far as I knew, this wasn’t the standard protocol for a resident pairing—not that there was much of a precedent, but pairings were said to be a brief meeting, a formality. Schedules certainly never got cleared for the day. What did it say about me that I was the only one for whom Chancellor Thane saw fit to earmark a whole day of revamping before I was seen by my match? The notion only filled me with greater apprehension.

At ten after, Roxanne came bursting through the doors. “There she is,” she said in her low, sleek voice. She strode over to me in her jewel-toned pants and tall, narrow heels. Her long hair was parted down the middle and cemented to her head with a militant amount of hairspray, tucked behind her plethorically diamond-studded ears and flowing down her shoulders in dark, silken strands.

“Oh dear.” Her expression wilted when she reached me. She crossed her arms, her eyes moving over me despondently. Then, as if suddenly remembering that there was an actual person behind this heaping mess, she concocted a smile. “Not to worry, darling,” she crooned in that unsettling velvet voice, tilting my chin up. “It may seem hopeless now, but in no time, we’ll transform all of… this”—she looked me up and down, trying not to physically cringe—“into a work of art!”

She turned, and with a dramatic wrist-flip and two quick claps, summoned her army. “Come in, ladies! Let’s get started.” She gave me one last appraising glance and added, “We have a lot of work to do.”

Her staff poured in like colorful bees spilling from their hive, carrying an array of boxes and caddies filled with tools, brushes, hair irons, creams, powders, sprays, and lastly… a long, glittering gown the same bright blue hue as my jacket.

“What is that?” I asked as they brought it in.

“Ah-ah.” Roxanne wagged a finger at me. “You’ll ruin the surprise.”

I was not half as euphoric as I watched them hang the dress in the corner. I’d never worn anything other than my uniform for the last three and a half years, and I was certain I’d never worn anything like that beastly thing in my life. I didn’t need memories to prove it.

Roxanne’s staff wasted no time. They set me down in a chair, swiveling me this way and that as a dozen intrusive hands reached for my face, my hair, my hands, making debasing comments all the while.

“Her hair is desperately dry,” one said as she pulled my braid apart.

“This scar here will take some work to cover up,” replied a lady testing various shades of makeup on me.

“Oh dear.” Roxanne’s tone was cool and slippery as she leaned in and examined the scar above my right eye, holding my chin so I couldn’t escape, her perfume nearly suffocating me. “What did you do to your sweet little face?”

I nearly told her, when suddenly a comb raked through a knot in my hair, yanking my scalp with it. My cheeks flushed and my hand flew to my head. I wanted to scream.

“Don’t worry about the scar,” Roxanne told the woman. “The mask will cover it.”

“The what?” I asked, blinking back tears.

But of course, no one answered. Instead, someone took my hand and started sanding down my nails, while at the same time someone plucked at my eyebrows. This was torture, but I didn’t appear to have any say in the matter, so I sat there in abject silence for the next two hours as they gave me a complete overhaul, jabbing at my face and spraying things in my eyes.

Finally, after they’d spent a good twenty minutes wrestling me into that absurd dress, I was allowed to step out from behind the partition.

Roxanne smiled. “You’re ready!” she exclaimed softly, motioning for me to join her by the mirror—not an easy feat in the heels that had replaced my comfortable boots.

“Wow…” I beamed with genuine surprise as I stepped in front of the mirror, stunned and a little beguiled by the figure I found facing back at me in the gossamer, blue gown, which did not at all resemble the gaudy monstrosity that hung in the corner earlier. Somehow it had transformed into an elegant dress with a form-fitting bodice, a neckline that brushed across my collarbone, shimmering, gold-dusted long sleeves that came to two slight, sophisticated points at my shoulders, and a sheath, blue skirt that dipped to the floor and trailed behind me in a silky sweep. My glittering hair was wrapped around a gold headpiece inlaid with tiny crystals, and into an ornate chignon at my neck.

“You look beautiful,” Roxanne said in her silky voice.

Maybe I can do this, I began to think as I marveled at my reflection. Maybe if this is the first my match sees of me, he won’t mind that he’s been paired with the defect.

Then my gaze wandered to the scar above my eye, still utterly visible, despite the team’s efforts. I sighed, realizing maybe it wasn’t such a transformative spell after all.

A woman in fuchsia pants appeared at the door. “They’re waiting,” she announced.

“Excellent. Just one last thing…” Roxanne began looking in search of something. “Ah! Here it is.” She gestured to a member of her staff who approached bearing a gold box. Roxanne lifted the lid, revealing a gold filigree mask inside, adorned with more tiny crystals. She removed the mask from the velvet-lined casing and placed it fastidiously over my face. It was surprisingly lightweight, with two prongs on either side that hugged my temples just enough for it to stay in place without pinching. I stared at the mask perplexedly, noting that, while it did indeed conceal my scar, it also covered the upper half of her team’s work.

“What is this for?” I asked, touching its gilded edges.

Roxanne batted my hands away. “Chancellor Thane’s instructions.”

My shoulders sank. Thane had to know this wasn’t going to work. There wasn’t a resident on this ship who didn’t already know about me, and surely whoever he’d paired me with would be no exception. It wouldn’t matter that he’d be meeting a mask.

“Well,” Roxanne said as her staff packed up and dispersed, “we’d better get you up there. We don’t want to keep the young man waiting.”

I felt my heart hammer in my chest as I picked up my skirt and followed her out of the studio, struggling to keep up as she led me through a sequence of sequestered passages and stairs. I was so overcome with nerves, I wasn’t paying attention to where we were going. Maybe that was why I was so taken aback when I eventually found myself stumbling out onto a balcony that overlooked a palatial, multi-story room.

I slowed my stride, gazing up at the chandeliers that hung from the high, ornate ceilings above. I cautiously approached the balustrade and glanced down at the vast, gleaming marble floor below. I’d seen this room before, but never in person. This was the ballroom where the Directive held their events—exclusive events which residents were not invited to attend, but we watched when they were televised throughout the ship. We had little choice.

I peered further over the precipice, all the way to the landing at the bottom of the steps where a young man stood in a velvet coatee the color of deep night sky. He was fidgeting with his gold-purled cuffs and hadn’t looked up yet. All I could see was a head of dark curls. But even from here… I could see how dashing he was in that coat.

I felt my heart rate skyrocket again. Then I heard the gentle tread of footsteps and turned to find Chancellor Thane approaching with his right-hand man, Amon.

“Well, sir?” Roxanne’s voice was even more slick and buttery than usual as she motioned to me eagerly, or rather to her work, which masked me head to toe. “I think we did rather well, considering the time constraint we were under to make such a… drastic transformation.” She smiled flirtatiously.

I wanted to gag at the ingratiating display, but I knew my task today was to be uncharacteristically charming, so I forced my lips into a courteous smile instead.

“She is a vision, Roxanne,” Chancellor Thane praised, his gray eyes moving over me.

“Indeed,” Amon agreed consonantly. I cringed, avoiding his frigid gaze.

Amon was younger than Thane, maybe in his forties. Aside from the girl who was once a resident, he was the youngest member of the Directive I’d ever seen. Today, Amon wore a white suit that matched his platinum-blonde hair, which was clearly bleached, because his dark eyelashes didn’t match at all, and often gave him the appearance of having wild, dark rings drawn around his ice-blue eyes. In short, he looked mad. But I would expect nothing less from the man always standing obsequiously in Thane’s shadow.

“Well done, as always,” Thane commended Roxanne. “You may go now.”

Roxanne looked slightly wounded that he didn’t care to admire her work more, but she covered it with a polite smile and exited graciously.

“Shall we then?” Thane motioned toward the stairway that I would have to attempt to descend gracefully in these accursed heels. I took a deep breath and set down the marble steps, clinging to the lacquer banister as I made my way toward the stranger waiting at the bottom.

He heard me coming and finally looked up.

I froze in my tracks.

It was only in that moment that I remembered I was wearing this ridiculous mask… because he was wearing one just like it.

I caught my breath, suddenly feeling in danger of falling the rest of the way.

I looked back at Thane, but he merely nodded me on. So, with a tightened grip on the banister, I struggled down the last few steps until finally, the young man and I were face to face.

Mask to mask.

I remembered to smile. He smiled back. Or maybe it happened the other way around—I couldn’t be sure. He had a nice smile. That much, at least, the mask did not conceal. It was kind and dimpled his warm-toned cheeks sweetly.

“Hello,” he greeted, his voice jittering slightly. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

He gave a small bow, and when he lifted his face again, I saw the unique spark in his amber eyes—hopeful, where most harbored nothing but incurable weariness. It was as though this world was not oppressive or confining to him, but rather wide open and somehow still full of possibility.

I fell speechless, my thoughts wasted in his gaze.

He faced the floor, granting me a moment of relief as he confessed, “I spent all morning trying to think of something charming to say when we met.” His eyes met mine again and his smile spread. “But to be honest, I don’t think I’m very good at this.”

I couldn’t help but return his smile, all my reservations quickly diminishing with each lilt of his voice. He had a sincere quality so unlike the other residents I’d known. I studied his eyes under the mask’s shadow and wondered if I’d seen him before, if maybe we’d shared any classes.

Then I remembered I still hadn’t spoken.

“Well, honesty is charming.” I smiled, relieved I’d managed to say something. “And as long as we’re being honest, I’m not good at this either. Never needed to be until today.”

I didn’t really mean it as a joke, but he laughed and I joined him.

That was when Thane finally made his way down the stairs to facilitate an introduction.

“Ileon,” he said to the boy, “I would like to introduce you to Azara.”

I turned to Thane, too stunned to speak.

That was not my name. That was not the name he gave me over three years ago.

“Azara”—Thane’s stern glare compelled me to return my attention to the boy in the mask—“this is Ileon.”

“Ileon,” I repeated, redirecting my focus, allowing his kind smile to alleviate some of my anxiety… until Thane said this.

“Ileon is about to be crowned Regna Primary… as are you.”

Roxanne’s team made quick work of wiping away the beauty spell they’d spent all morning casting, returning me to the state in which I had arrived, right down to the braid across my temple. A few minutes later, Kyla came to collect me and we wandered down to the Mess, eating lunch as if nothing had changed. I should’ve been hungry, after skipping breakfast, but all I could manage were a few meager bites of my sandwich.

Kyla didn’t ask what was wrong. She just let me stare at the remains of my meal while I wondered if I’d ever be hungry again.

After lunch, I sequestered myself in my room, hyper-analyzing each word that had been exchanged in the ballroom, wondering if I’d missed something, or if Thane had ever said anything to me in our past meetings that might have alluded to this. “Big plans,” yes. “Important part,” sure. But never once did he mention pairing me with the future Regna Primary.

It was 8:37 P.M. when I finally tore myself away from my thoughts and glanced at the time. Kyla never came to get me for dinner, which was just as well.

I crawled into bed, hoping to catch some extra sleep, but instead I spent the better part of the night staring at a dark ceiling, replaying those words. “Ileon is about to be crowned Regna Primary… as are you.”

In the morning, the cry of my alarm freed me from the longest, most sleep-deprived night I’d spent in that room since the first.

I held out my tag and watched my schedule flash before me.

Schedule: Wednesday, December 8, 2134:

Meeting with Chancellor Thane: 8:30 A.M., suite 1, floor 28

ECT: approx. 8 mins.

Of course.

I disentangled myself from the sheets and got dressed, my exhaustion outweighed by my impatience for answers.

Thane’s voice continued ringing in my head as I worked through the knots in my hair. “Ileon is about to be crowned… as are you.”

Why would Thane appoint anyone other than himself as Primary? And even if he did have good reason for ceding power to a young, new ruler… why this Ileon?

And why me?

“As are you.” The words taunted me relentlessly as I sat in Thane’s office, waiting for him to show. Surely he meant only that I was to be Ileon’s ancillary. Even so… according to my file, I was a ward of the state with a record before this. Here, I had the lowest vocational score of any resident—well, any resident remaining. How could I be one of the two chosen to rule the New World?

The glass doors finally opened behind me. I sat up and watched Thane stroll over to his side of the desk, his piney scent infusing the room as he stared at me in silence.

“Strauss,” I finally said, figuring he was waiting on me to open the conversation. See, Thane and I had met in this office so many times over the years that we had developed something of a routine repartee, whereby I would name the composer of whatever refrain was playing at the time, and he would name the piece.

“The Blue Danube,” Thane replied. “You should know that one, Aiza. It’s one of his greatest works.”

“Noted,” I replied, an edge creeping into my tone. I didn’t want to waste time pretending this meeting was anything like our others. All I wanted was for him to start explaining. “So,” I began diffidently, “Ileon… He’s the new Primary. And I’m paired with him, making me his…”

“Primary,” Thane interjected.

“But… if Ileon is Primary… wouldn’t that make me his ancillary?”

“No.” Thane’s stare clouded over. “There will be no ancillaries in the New World. That structure of the monarchy will die with the Old, never to be resurrected.”

“So… Ileon and I would have to be…”

“Married. Yes. I’ll be making the necessary arrangements soon. You and Ileon will rule together, as equals when we ground.”

“You mean… in six months?”

“I told you we had plans for you, Aiza,” Thane said. “One day we’ll have to leave this sanctuary and return to the ground to reinhabit a world that would otherwise have been effaced of human life forever. And you”—his steely eyes met mine intently—“will lead them.”

“But…” I suddenly grew dizzy with a convergence of questions on the tip of my tongue, “why not you?”

Thane’s expression soured, as if the question offended him. “It was never going to be me, Aiza. And this decision wasn’t solely mine to make. Everyone in the Directive cast their vote.”

“And they voted for me? Why?”

A million questions slated my mind, and still I was stuck on the one that had beleaguered me since the day they brought me here.

“There is a plan at work here, Aiza,” Thane said. “You just have to trust in it and do your part. The Directive has always known it would pass the torch to young, strong, capable leaders. We felt it best to implement your rule as early as possible, to cultivate a trust between you and the people before we ground. Gaining their trust and cooperation now will be paramount in leading them during those crucial first years back.”

“So, I’m not… a mistake?” I asked.

“What?” Thane shot me an indignant look. “What do you mean ‘mistake’?” he stressed the word as if it was an affront.

“Everyone here talks about ‘the one,’” I explained hesitantly. “There are twenty thousand and one of us on this ship.”

“That is not by mistake.” Thane sneered. “There are no mistakes on the Aureate—not you or anyone else here.”

“But what about all the passengers who… disappeared?”

“They didn’t disappear.” Thane growled at the insinuation.

“But… I’m still the only resident who dropped a perfect score down to a failing one within the first three months. My score…” I trailed, as suddenly it occurred to me. “It was never real, was it?”

“Aiza—”

“Why did you tell Ileon that my name is Azara?” I interrupted, the mention of my name coaxing out the question.

“Because,” Thane huffed, “as long as you are in Ileon’s presence, you will wear a mask and your name will be Azara. It is for your protection.”

“But you paired us,” I said. “Don’t you think he’ll figure out who I am eventually?”

“No,” Thane’s voice dropped to a low, menacing register, the acute look on his face helping me catch on.

Ileon and I weren’t really paired, not in the canonical sense. We were just here to play the parts of The New Regna Primaries. Then, when the show was over and the audience dispersed, he and I would go our separate ways and live our lives as anonymous residents. That was why we couldn’t know each other’s names, why we wore the masks.

“So, all this time…” I finally pieced it together, “I was never a real resident, was I?” I took Thane’s silence as confirmation and scoffed. “That explains a lot.”

“It was imperative that you learned to blend in with the residents,” Thane insisted, “to live as one of them, to learn the same critical survival skills. And… it was the most effective way to keep you hidden until we were ready to crown you.”

“But I’m not hidden,” I couldn’t stop myself from pointing out. “I don’t blend in. Everyone knows about me and whispers about me and thinks I’m⁠—”

“Defective,” Thane interposed, his voice maddeningly placid. “Which is exactly why no one will suspect it’s you behind the mask. As I’ve said, there is a plan. The masks, the names, your identities as residents—it’s all to protect you and Ileon. You’ll be grateful for these precautionary measures we’ve taken when things inevitably get… messier.”

I gulped, disliking the ominous ring of that word.

“Trust me, Aiza.” Thane’s gray eyes fixed sharply on mine. “I am taking the necessary steps to ensure your safety.”

“It’s the Age of the Exitus,” I countered. “You can’t ensure anyone’s safety.”

Thane flashed a condescending smirk. “You’re right. Out there, I can’t protect anyone. But as long as you’re here on my ship, I will do everything in my power to keep you safe. You should thank me, Aiza. After all these years of asking me why you’re here, I am offering you the New World.”

“I don’t want it!” I sprang up from my seat, my blood suddenly boiling as I finally grasped just how deliberately I’d been kept in the dark all these years. “You’re the one who kept the truth from me! You let me think I was a mistake for three years and now this?”

“Aiza, shh!” Thane silenced me, a strange, paranoid look suddenly possessing his silver eyes as they flashed to the window behind me, almost as if he was afraid someone out there might be listening to us. I turned, but I didn’t see anyone. “Sit down,” Thane commanded, pulling his focus back.

I sank into my seat. “I can’t be the New World’s Primary,” I said. “I’m a ward from the Harena.”

“Not here,” Thane snarled. “Here, everyone gets to start over. And in order to do that, everyone has to forget the past. That is why you were scrubbed. I should never have let you see your file… but let’s get something straight right now.” He rose from his seat and began cornering me with slow steps. “You are no longer that thieving little stray from the Harena. It’s time you forget that life once and for all. I’ve given you a new life here. This is your purpose and your future. This is all that matters now.”

“I don’t want this!” I reiterated stubbornly. “You have to pick someone else!”

“There is no one else, Aiza.” Thane started to sound piqued. “Mistakes are not an option here. Mistakes disappear. You are not a mistake.” His tone kindled with warning. “This is what you are here to do. I suggest you find a way to accept it.”

“When are we grounding?” I asked, this time not out of mere restlessness. I almost wanted that day to be far away, in light of all this. “Will it really be in six months?”

“You’ll see,” Thane gave his usual paltering response. “I think you and I are done for today.” He motioned to the doors.

I turned to find Kyla waiting outside now, shifting uncomfortably in that commander jacket she hardly ever wore. She opened the door, regarding me with a strange, almost sympathetic look… as if she’d heard our whole conversation. But she didn’t…

That was when I arrived at perhaps the worst realization of all. She knew, too.

I rose and walked toward her slowly, allowing her to heed my glare.

“Aiza, wait,” Thane stopped me halfway. I turned to him, fists balled at my side. “Tomorrow evening there will be an inaugural ceremony to formally introduce you and Ileon to the people,” he said. “I’ve written a few words for you to say. Your speech cards will be delivered to your room tonight. I expect you to be well-versed in them by tomorrow, is that clear?”

“Fine,” I uttered, only so I could leave.

As I turned to do so, though, he thwarted me once more. “And Aiza”—he waited for me to face him again before exhorting—“you will say only what is on those cards. Understood?”

I nodded, then vacated before he could stop me again, brushing turbulently past Kyla on my way out.

Kyla chased me as I ripped out of Thane’s office. My tag lit up to inform me that I had fifteen minutes to get to gym six. Back to the usual grind today.

When Kyla finally caught up to me, she said nothing—only plodded quietly beside me.

“You knew all this time?” I broke the silence without breaking my stride.

Kyla looked at me, and for a moment I thought she might explain, but then she shook her head and trudged past me.

“Kyla!” I yelled, halting in the middle of the empty hallway.

“Look”—she turned around, exhaling brusquely—“I’m sorry, okay?” She checked that we were alone before continuing. “Thane couldn’t exactly ask me to follow you around all day without telling me why.”

“How could you not tell me?”

“Thane told me not to!”

“He tells you not to do a lot of things!”

“Shh!” Kyla hissed, looking ready to physically restrain me. “I mean it, Aiza. We are not doing this here. You’re supposed to be keeping a low profile!”

“Right, because I’m so invisible with you following me everywhere!”

“Yeah, to make sure you don’t draw too much attention to yourself, like you’re doing right now!” She shot me a vilifying glare.

I blinked. “So… basically, the reason you’ve been following me around for the past two years was to make sure I was a pariah to the entire Residency? I didn’t need you for that.” I gave a jagged laugh. “But I’m not invisible either. And Thane is delusional if he thinks putting me in a mask is going to hide who I am from them.”

Kyla shook her head. “You’d better hope you’re wrong about that.”

“Kyla, what aren’t you telling me?” I asked, point-blank. “Why doesn’t Thane want anyone to know who we are?”

“I don’t know, exactly…” she began tacitly.

“Sure, just like you didn’t know I was about to be named⁠—”

“Shhh!” She clapped her hand over my mouth.

“L-t m-m gh-h!” I protested, the vowels smothered by her palm.

That was when two blackvests appeared around the corner.

“Everything under control here, Commander?” one of them asked, raising a brow at Kyla.

“Yep.” She gave a thumbs-up with her free hand. “All good.”

The commanders exchanged glances.

“Move along.” Kyla waved them on. “I’ve got this.”

With leery looks, the blackvests left us, and as their whispers faded from earshot, I sank my teeth into Kyla’s hand.

“Ow!” she cried, releasing me. “You know sometimes it feels like I am here to babysit you!”

“Answer me!” I demanded. “Why didn’t Thane tell me about this until now?”

“Aiza, you’re not doing yourself any favors causing a scene right now,” Kyla implored. “There’s a plan, okay? And I’m sorry Thane hasn’t exactly been up front with you about it, but at this point, I don’t know any more than you do.”

“Thane said things are about to get ‘messier.’ What did he mean by that?”

“I don’t know,” she murmured, “but as the person whose job it is to protect you when that day comes, I’d really appreciate it if you would just listen for once in your life. I have a feeling my job is about to get a lot harder… and soon.”

“So… what, you’re my security detail now?”

“Maybe. I don’t know.” She clamped her eyes shut and gave a swift head shake.

“What is Thane so worried about protecting me from?”

“I don’t know!” Kyla repeated. “I’m sorry, but you’re not the only one Thane keeps in the dark! Now, you need to drop this and get to training.”

“Fine,” I agreed. I wasn’t truly ready to drop it yet, but I did want to get to training, not only return to some semblance of normalcy, but also to see my trainer, who had officially taken Kyla’s place as my favorite commander. He did save my life, after all.

How I wound up assigned to Tye, of all the trainers in Command, I couldn’t say. Maybe it was due to an oversight on the Directive’s part, or maybe they truly believed the scrub to be that inculpable. Whatever the case, about a year ago, after I’d proven to be a distraction in a class setting, Thane assigned me a one-on-one trainer. When Kyla and I waltzed into the gym to meet him for the first time, there he stood—the soldier who’d saved my life more than two years prior.

Only, he didn’t remember that. And he didn’t remember me.

Tye was all sweaty the day we were reintroduced, having already run through a few sessions with other residents. His hair had grown since I’d last seen him, stubble lining his jaw. He was re-wrapping his hands when he looked up and saw us.

“Hey there,” he’d greeted me with that friendly smile. “You must be my new trainee. I’m Tye.”

For a moment, all I could do was stand there, speechless, flashing back to the day he’d first told me his name, when I was all scraped up and strapped to that chair. But apparently he had no memory of that, which led me to conclude that he must’ve been scrubbed after.

“I’m… Aiza,” I’d finally found the voice to respond, dispelling the memory.

“I’ve heard a lot about you, Aiza.”

“Whatever you’ve heard, I’m not responsible for,” Kyla had interceded.

Tye turned to her, and that was when I witnessed an even more bizarre and surprising exchange than our own. A warm, familiar smile fanned across his face. “Come on, Kyla,” he said her name like he’d said it a thousand times before. “You always were the troublemaker. I bet you corrupted the poor kid.” He winked at me, then his gaze gravitated back to hers and his expression sobered. “It’s really good to see you again,” he said. “It’s been a while.”

“You too,” Kyla replied, not half as heartfelt.

“I heard this was your new gig.” Tye nodded toward me. “You like it?”

Kyla looked at me and shrugged. “You know… it beats a lot of other jobs. How do you like yours?” she asked, casting her gaze across the sprawling gym.

Tye mimicked her shrug. “You know… it beats a lot of other jobs.”

Kyla nodded, her eyes filling with a strange wistfulness. “You look like you’re doing well,” she commented, a ghost of a smile passing over her lips.

“Yeah.” Tye’s grin was bittersweet. “I’ve been doing better.”

“Good.” Kyla seemed genuinely pleased to hear it.

Their gazes rested in one another’s for a spell, as if time had stopped only for them. Then Tye clapped his hands together, starting the clock again as he turned to me. “You ready to start training, kiddo?”

To this day, he still called me that, and I just had to pretend I wasn’t ambushed every time by the memory of wreckage raining down on us as we dangled from a harness over that giant chasm in the earth.

“I gotcha, kiddo.”

Now I trained with him four mornings a week. It was a fine arrangement, for the most part. But every once in a while, Tye would be giving me pointers on my form, and I would find myself fighting the urge to blurt out, You saved my life! I wouldn’t be here right now if it weren’t for you!

I knew why I could never do that. Forgetting is a gift. I wasn’t going to be the one to take that away from Tye, not when he got to sleep without the nightmares, to live without the memories of that day.

Tye was different now—no longer the large-and-in-charge commander he was then. He seemed to have faded into the background of the Command scene over the years. I had no idea how he and Kyla knew each other, but it had become hard to ignore the past few months—how often I would look over and catch Kyla peering up from her book, staring at him with a look that was somehow grudging and pining at the same time.

Tye was just as guilty of stealing enamored looks at her, just not during our session. Focus. He was all about focus when we were training.

Today, we had our section of the gym to ourselves. Kyla sat quietly on the sideline reading Victor Hugo. I wielded punches at the weighted bag between me and Tye while relaying to him the last twenty-four hours in which Thane had paired me with a handsome stranger and sprung on me his ultimate plan for us to rule the New World together.

I expected Kyla to intervene, but her nose stayed buried in her book, so I proceeded to tell Tye about Ileon, how in the short minutes I’d spent with him, he didn’t strike me as untrustworthy, despite Thane’s warnings. He seemed kind, and good. The more I talked about Ileon, the more I pulled my punches, until finally they dragged to a halt. I wiped my forehead, lost in thoughts of spending the rest of my life standing next to a stranger in a mask, never seeing the face behind it.

“Congratulations.” Tye peered around the punching bag. “I think you’re the first resident to ever be happy about their pairing.”

“Who says I’m happy about it?” I objected.

Tye ignored me. “So you’re saying all this time… no one ever told you about any of this?” His eyes darted over to Kyla.

“No…” I trailed, watching the two of them exchange cagey looks. And suddenly it hit me… why Kyla hadn’t stopped me from telling Tye. “Wait”—I stepped around the bag—“you knew too?”

Tye’s eyes went to mine, rife with guilt.

“Seriously?” I threw my hands up, breathing raggedly.

“Hey,” Tye deflected, flashing a boastful grin, “obviously Thane wanted you training with the best. That’s why you got me.”

“Yeah, that’s why,” Kyla mumbled under her breath.

Tye shot her a look of chagrin.

I didn’t know what it meant, but I didn’t ask. I was too angry with both of them now. I locked eyes with Tye. “Why didn’t you say anything?”

“I was under strict instructions to keep it a secret,” he grumbled.

“Even from me?”

“Especially from you.”

I huffed, knowing I couldn’t yell at Tye like I did with Kyla, but they had both lied to me, at least by omission.

“Hey, come on, kiddo.” He gave my shoulder a light punch. “Let’s forget about all this Directive agenda stuff and go to the range. That’ll take your mind off things.”

Tye always suggested the shooting range whenever something was troubling one of us. Something about shooting a gun at a target seemed to be the answer to any problem for him. Neither Kyla nor I found it quite so therapeutic, since we hadn’t achieved anything near his level of marksmanship. Even though commanders didn’t really carry guns anymore, Tye sure knew how to shoot one. The man never missed.

“Not today, Tye,” I said sullenly.

“Come on, it’ll cheer you up.”

“I said no,” I snapped, suddenly feeling lightheaded. I realized I hadn’t eaten much in the last two days, and after two hours of training, I was paying for it.

“Hey, Aiza, are you okay?” Tye stepped toward me.

“I just…” I wheezed, the room spinning around me, “need to step outside for a minute.”

I lumbered past him, staggering toward the exit. I plunged through the gym doors, holding my head up by my palm. I stooped down and clutched my knees, pulling for air.

As soon as I heard the clang of the doors closing behind me, I took off running and I didn’t stop, because running always felt right to me, even when I had nowhere to go.

I was always getting lost here. I didn’t know what made me think I wouldn’t this time. I raced down the stairwell, too worked up to wait for the elevator, much less share it with anyone. I’d been angry… confused. But now all I felt was unbridled panic as I tore down the stairs.

“Ileon is about to be crowned Regna Primary… as are you,” the words clattered loudly in my head.

How did this happen? I still struggled to grasp it.

Yesterday morning, I was a resident with a failing score. I thought I was on the verge of getting locked up—disappearing—and now I was going to be crowned? My mind reeled with the notion.

Thane told me there was a plan at work. And while a big piece of it had finally been revealed, I sensed there was yet a bigger piece I was still missing, Thane’s admonition ringing in my ear, “You’ll be grateful for these precautionary measures we’ve taken when things inevitably get… messier.”

What was about to happen that Thane didn’t want me to know about? Why was he so set on debuting me and Ileon to the ship tomorrow? These questions and more cluttered my mind as I sprinted through one hall after another, growing increasingly aware with every step that there was no true escape from this place.

Finally I stopped, my lungs screaming for rest. I glanced around at the hallway that looked identical to the others I’d passed, breathing sharply. I remembered tearing down several flights of stairs, but I wasn’t actually sure what floor I’d landed on. Wherever I was, I was alone—everyone else scattered to their various assignments at this time of day.

I trudged toward an opening ahead and saw the great glass railing wrapped around the gaping square shaft that jutted through the center of each level of the ship. The core.

I breathed, relieved. This meant elevators were nearby.

I ambled around the square precipice in search of one, but all I found was a white arrow pointing down another staircase, indicating that crew boarding was that way.

Yikes. I was farther down than I realized.

I glared at the glowing, blue tag on my wrist. I couldn’t go any lower, or the Arc would alert Thane. If he found out that I stepped foot on a crew floor, I’d never hear the end of it. But I was too tired and frazzled to find my way back to the gym. My time with Tye was almost up anyway, so I made peace with being lost for the moment.

I slunk to the ground, listening to Liszt’s Liebestraum floating through the speakers. I rested my head against the wall, trying to steady my breathing and quiet my mind, but my mind would not comply, still buzzing with the suspicion that Ileon, whoever he was, hadn’t been kept nearly as in the dark about Thane’s plan as me.

At least there was an upside to all of this. I hadn’t truly been paired, except in the public eye, which was fine with me. It wasn’t as if I was going to find anything better than that arrangement here anyway.

Suddenly I heard footsteps pounding up the stairs. I glanced over as a crew member surfaced, scrambling to tie his apron behind his back.

I sat up, trying to collect myself as he approached, but I guess he was in too great a hurry to notice me. I watched in silent astonishment as he swept past me. I knew I would’ve been embarrassed beyond words if he’d stopped, but who just brushes past a girl all balled up on the floor? Especially a resident so far out of her territory?

The crew boy scuttled down the hall and stopped, hitting a button on the wall.

Ding! The elevator chimed as it opened for him.

Oh, I thought. That’s where it is.

I pulled myself to my feet, garnering a nominal level of composure. “Hold the door please?” I called out.

The crew boy glanced up with a start, as though he genuinely didn’t know I was here. “Oh uh… sure,” he stammered, placing a hand in the doorjamb. “Sorry,” he apologized as I stepped inside, “I didn’t see you there.” He blushed a little, facing away.

“It’s okay. I suppose I was trying to be inconspicuous. I really shouldn’t be down here,” I confessed, vainly placing a hand over the two gold arrows on my blue sleeve.

I looked at the console. No floor had been selected yet. I tapped the number for mine, then asked the boy what floor he needed.

“Oh, the twelfth please. Thanks.” He smiled politely, pushing up his white sleeves, but he still didn’t look at me. Clearly, he wasn’t looking to engage in conversation, and that was fine. As we rode in silence, however, I did notice the lambent, blue glint of light peeking out of his collar, framed in a golden rectangle.

The necklace.

Now I knew why he was being so standoffish. This was the crew boy Sorrell had attacked the other day. He must’ve recognized me—the girl who just walked off after gawking at him all covered in muck.

Suddenly I felt terrible all over again for having just stood there, staring without doing anything to help. But I wasn’t staring at him. It was that necklace—the non-uniform trinket around his neck that, by some miracle, hadn’t been confiscated and melted down for scrap.

The doors opened to let him off on his floor. I tried to redeem myself at the last second, but it came out in a pathetic, sputtering attempt.

“Thanks for the, uh… company. H-have a good day.”

He turned back just long enough to shoot me a strange look and say “You too,” before jetting off to wherever he was going.

I sighed as the doors drew closed. He hates me, I thought.

No matter. I would probably never see him again. And at the moment, I had bigger problems… like how much trouble I’d be in for bolting once Kyla inevitably tracked me down.

Sometimes I forgot that Kyla only knocked on my door as a courtesy. Thane had keyed her tag to my room long ago.

She was in the middle of a tirade about how irresponsible it was of me to ditch training, when both our tags went off, notifying us that it was time to head down to the Mess.

I’d never been so thankful for lunch. I was starving.

Kyla still fumed all through lunch and afternoon classes, but by dinner that evening, she finally seemed to have cooled off. I was excited to eat a hot meal, especially when I saw they were serving pizza… until I overheard something from the trio of residents in line behind us that stymied my appetite all over again.

“Have you seen him? The new resident?” one boy asked.

“Yeah. He showed up in my nav class today—hasn’t said a word,” another prated. “No one knows where he came from.”

“Did you see his shadow?” the girl with them asked.

“A commander following him around can only mean one of two things.”

“Rulebreaker or rescrubbed.”

I fumbled to keep a grip on my tray, biting back a gasp. Ileon.

“Want to bet which one it is?” one of them challenged.

“Rescrubbed. No contest. He’s got that look.”

“But they haven’t let one of them out in years. They just released him after all this time? Alive?” the girl posed skeptically.

“Of course he’s alive. You don’t really believe they killed those people who disappeared, do you?”

“What else did they do with them? Does he even have a score?”

“Yep. Ninety-three point four.”

“No way.”

“He didn’t get that by rotting in a cell all these years.”

“Well then where has he been all this time?”

My question too.

“Aiza.”

It took me a second to place that fourth voice. I turned to find Kyla pointing to the crew girl holding a slice of pizza out to me at the counter.

“Sorry.” I blinked, lifting my tray. “Thank you.”

Once we’d been served, Kyla and I made our way across the Mess and slid into our seats. I stared at the greasy slice on my tray, but I couldn’t seem to attempt a bite.

“Okay, I’ve never seen you skip out on pizza night,” Kyla commented after most of the meal had gone by. “I’m officially worried.”

I didn’t say anything.

“Fine,” Kyla sighed, giving up on her halfhearted endeavor to console me as she wadded up her napkin. “If you’re not going to eat, we should turn in for the night. Big day tomorrow.” She nodded at the doors. “Looks like the next group’s lining up out there, anyway.”

As we deposited our trays at the receptacles and shuffled toward exit, I began to hear the chatter bombinating from the hungry residents coming in on the other side of the cordons.

“Look, that’s him,” one whispered, “the new resident.”

I looked over, my heart pounding.

And there he was, wearing a blue uniform, escorted by a blackvest as he filed into the Mess with the next group. He wasn’t wearing a mask, but it didn’t matter; I barely glimpsed him. Only his dark curls and the wave of garrulous whispers left in his wake confirmed it.

Ileon was the new resident.

“Aiza?” Kyla beckoned as I watched him disappear into the crowd.

“Coming.” I tore myself away and followed her to the elevators.

Kyla didn’t say much as we made our way up to my room, but when my door opened, her arm shot across the threshold.

“What is it?” I asked tiredly. “Look I heard you earlier, okay? I don’t need another lecture. I won’t bolt again.”

She sneered. “Yeah, I don’t believe that for a second, but that’s not what this is about. Look,” she began with trepidation, “I know Thane’s a tyrant, but I’ve been babysitting you long enough to know that you won’t let him turn you into something you don’t want to be.”

“I won’t?” I raised my brow. “Do I have a choice?”

“Yes,” she said. “I know Thane makes it seem impossible, but you have a choice. However…” she added loathly, “I think you have to play the part he wants you to. For now, at least. Just… until you have all the pieces.”

“What pieces?” I squinted. “Kyla, is there something else you’re not telling me?”

She scanned the hall again to make sure we were alone. “I don’t know much, alright?” she said quietly. “All I know for sure is that something happened. Something went wrong.”

“What?”

“I don’t know,” she said, keeping her voice low. “I do know that Thane needs someone for people to keep their eyes on for a while, while he tries to fix whatever it is. That’s why he’s in such a hurry to put you two in the spotlight. This ceremony tomorrow, your wedding, your coronation—he’s going to drag it all out, turn the whole thing into a spectacle and make you two the stars of the show, so everyone’s looking at you instead of him.”

“So…” I trailed, allowing myself to catch up, “that’s it? We’re just diversions?”

“Not diversions,” Kyla exhorted. “You’re more like… targets.”

Instantly, I felt the weight that was just barely beginning to lift off my shoulders slam back down. “He’s going to blame us…” The wheels turned in my head. “If he can’t fix it, whatever it is. He’s setting us up to take the fall. That’s why this is all happening so fast… because whatever he’s hiding is about to surface.”

Kyla nodded. “That’s why he’s abdicating the throne to you, why you wear the mask, and why you’ve been posing as a resident—so you can hide in plain sight when it becomes… necessary.” She frowned, knowing as well as I did—it was a poor guise. Between Ileon and I, neither of us made very inconspicuous residents, the proof of which I’d just overheard in that line. “The reality is, Thane needs someone to point to when the truth gets out about what he did.”

“What did he do?”

Kyla shook her head. “No one knows. Whatever it is, it can’t be good if he’s willing to recuse his throne just so he isn’t on it when the news breaches. Aiza, I’m only telling you this because I need you to understand how important it is that you don’t let anyone find out who you are. After tomorrow, things will be different. You can’t just run off when you feel like it. I have to be able to keep an eye on you. If anything happened to you because of this…” she hesitated before quietly finishing the thought, “let’s just say I’m having a hard enough time not wringing Thane’s neck.”

I blinked, surprised not by the threat against Thane, but the sentiment behind it.

“I’m not just here to make sure you get to class on time,” Kyla said. “It’s my job to protect you, Aiza. And to be honest, I’m afraid of how hard that’s going to be when whatever he’s hiding surfaces. Just promise me you’ll be more careful.”

“Okay.” I pressed my fingers to my temples and closed my eyes.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you about any of this before,” Kyla said. “I just…”

“It’s okay, Kyla.” I lifted my head, deciding to forgive her. “I know.”

She gave a weary side-smile. “Get some sleep.”

“Yeah,” I said, turning to my door, eager to do just that.

But alas, plans go awry.

I wandered into my room, barely shedding my jacket before I flopped onto my bed and released a long exhale into the sheets.

I mustered the energy to glance at the time: 7:03 P.M.

I knew I wouldn’t be able to sleep yet, so I decided to shower instead. I shuffled into my bathroom, only to discover I was fresh out of towels. They must’ve collected today and forgotten to leave new ones.

Perfect.

I tapped my tag and ordered some up, then crawled back into bed while I waited, pulling the covers up over my head.

It turned out I was able to sleep. I didn’t know how long I dozed off for, but I awoke to a noisy chorus of bottles crashing to the floor of my bathroom and someone swearing under his breath.

I shot up, straining into the bathroom. “Hello?” I jumped out of bed and flipped on the lights, but they’d been dimmed for the night, so they barely made a difference.

A jumpy, disjointed voice answered back, “Uh… r-room service! Ah!” His arm shot out just in time to catch another bottle toppling off the counter.

I clutched my chest and breathed, realizing the stranger in my bathroom was just a crew member delivering the towels I’d ordered.

“You okay in there?” I winced.

“Yes.” He stumbled out into the low light, gripping the doorway for balance. He stood up straight, running his fingers through his disheveled hair. “Sorry about that,” he said. “You requested towels? They’re in there for you.” He pointed over his shoulder. “And, uh, nothing broke,” he added. “Sorry, I didn’t think anyone was in here. I knocked a few times, said room service and everything.”

“Right. Sorry,” I said. “I was passed out. Guess I wasn’t snoring loud enough.”

He shot me a funny look, laughing timorously. “Isn’t it only seven thirty?”

“Yeah,” I muttered. “It’s… been a long day.”

He nodded, rubbing the back of his neck shyly. “Well, sorry I woke you.”

As he began inching toward the door, I suddenly spotted the blue glint around his neck, catching the low light.

“Hey, I know you!” I blurted.

He paused and turned to me. “You do?”

“From the elevator today,” I said, intentionally omitting the Sorrell-fiasco preceding that. “Twelfth floor, right?”

“Oh, yes.” He bobbed his head. “That was me. Sorry if I seemed a little… distracted. I was uh… running late.”

He still avoided my gaze. Maybe he did remember me from before. Suddenly I felt the need to prove to him that I wasn’t one of Sorrell’s fanatics, relishing in his humiliation like the other onlookers.

“Of course, crew members are too busy to stop for the damsels in distress,” I attempted a joke.

“Were you?” His brow ticked up. “In distress? Again, sorry. I just… didn’t see you.”

It was only then that I noticed the way he wasn’t looking at me. It didn’t seem entirely intentional. I glanced at the bathroom behind him, still dark because he hadn’t turned on the light, and suddenly it clicked.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” I said, wishing I’d noticed sooner that he was blind. “I didn’t realize.”

The crew boy seemed to relax a little then. “It’s okay.” He smiled.

“I’ve just been caught up in… It doesn’t matter,” I mumbled, knowing I couldn’t very well tell him about the day I’d had.

“I get it,” he said. “Rezes—I mean residents—have busy lives, too. But… can I ask what a rez was doing on a crew floor?”

“I was one floor away from crew,” I pointed out. “And… I might have been a little lost. Like I said—long day.”

“Anything I can do to help?”

“Thanks,” I said, “but I’m not sure you can help with this. It’s… a mess.”

“Well, I’m pretty good with messes.” He flashed that smile again, and this time, I noticed the incredible brightness that exuded from it. I could only see half of it in the dim, yellow light he stood beside, the other half hidden in the shadows, but it was unlike any smile I’d ever seen. “It’s kind of what I do around here,” he added.

I stared at him before comprehending that now he was making a joke. I laughed a bit too late.

“Okay,” he confessed, “so maybe I don’t actually do a lot of the cleaning… unless the Arc glitches out and messes up the shifts,” he muttered. I gathered that was how he wound up scrubbing the halls the day Sorrell attacked him, which I now realized he might not have even known I’d witnessed. “I mostly do laundry,” he added, “and the occasional towel delivery. But hey, maybe I’ll surprise you. You won’t know if you don’t at least give me a chance.”

“I think you already did surprise me,” I said, dodging the subject I knew I shouldn’t be discussing with anyone, let alone a crew member. But as I watched that smile of his brighten even more, I found myself giving in.

I told him everything, starting with the Harena. I told him that I’d lived in twelve homes in the thirteen years before they brought me here. I left out the gory details of that day and skipped ahead to yesterday, when Chancellor Thane introduced me to a handsome, prince-like stranger with whom I was supposed to rule. I told him what Kyla said—that Thane was only crowning us so he could blame us for something that apparently had gone very wrong, which no one knew about yet. I told him about the inaugural ceremony tomorrow and the masks that were meant to disguise us. Every time I began to think that I should stop talking, I looked to the crew boy and somehow felt him bidding me to go on. So I did, until finally I ran out of words and sank onto my bed.

The crew boy grinned. “Wow. So you’re not a rez then—just posing as one. You’re secretly royalty,” his voice dropped to a whisper that implied he was mocking me. I didn’t blame him.

“I’m not crazy,” I swore. “You’ll see tomorrow when they broadcast the ceremony. Except, you know… the part where I’m about to be framed.”

“Oh, I believe you.” His response surprised me. “Especially the Chancellor framing you for his mistake. You want to know what I think?”

My lips quirked. “I think you’re going to tell me what you think no matter what I say.”

“Nope.” He shook his head solemnly. “Not if you don’t want me to. I’ll just stand here and be your soundboard while you pose all your questions to the universe, if that’s what you want.”

I eyed him dubiously, strongly suspecting that I had just been tricked into this answer, “I want to know what you think.”

He smiled. “I think you worry too much. You need to have a little more faith.”

“Faith in what?” I asked, finding myself smiling back.

“In…” He drew in a deep breath, striding across the room and feeling for a seat next to me at the foot of the bed. My heart jumped as he sat down, his shoulder brushing mine. My eyes dropped to the white shirt gathered at the fold of his hip. When they drifted back up, that was when I really saw them for the first time. Those eyes—two mosaics of bright blue, every fractal glistening with impossible brilliance. “The end of the road,” he finally said, his voice sure and steady. “One day you’ll look back and understand why everything happened the way that it did.”

“You really believe that?” I asked breathlessly.

“I have to. One day we’ll all get off this ship. We’ll go back to the ground and things will change. They’ll be better out there, away from those power-drunk egomaniacs who think they control the world and everyone in it.”

“The Directive,” I uttered, awed by his blunt description. The only other person I’d heard speak of the Directive with such belligerent contempt was Kyla. Never a crew member. “Don’t they, though?” I asked. “Control us, I mean.”

“Not me,” he said. “Once we get to the ground, I’m going to be free.”

I wished I had as much faith in our future as he did. “Can I ask you something?”

“Ask me,” he dared.

“I’m just curious, how did you end up here? I know we’ve only been talking a few minutes, but you don’t strike me as the type to indenture himself to a lifetime of serving those… egomaniacs.”

I watched him weigh his answer, a hint of remorse sliding over his face. “Let’s just say I don’t think my life before this was all that hard to give up,” he said. “I mean, obviously I don’t remember much of it, but maybe I hoped this next world would be better. Maybe I just wanted to live.”

I pondered his response, wondering if this next world would be better—if a crew member, or any of us for that matter, would ever really be free from the Directive.

I realized I hadn’t said anything for a moment. I tore my eyes away from his long enough to find something to keep the conversation going. No surprise I landed on the gold pendant tucked behind his collar. “Can I ask about your necklace?”

“Oh, this?” His fingers latched around it. “I’ve had it for… as long as I can remember.” He scoffed ironically. Famous words. A sequence of time that amounted to little more than three and a half years for any of us.

“You mean… you’ve had it since before?”

He nodded.

“I thought we weren’t allowed to keep anything from before.”

“We’re not.” He gave an insouciant shrug. “But no one’s taken it from me yet.”

I stared at the pendant, intrigued as to how that could be, but I sensed he didn’t know either. “So can I ask a favor?”

“Anything,” he said.

“Just…” I hedged, searching for the right way to phrase this. “Just please don’t tell anyone what we talked about tonight? No one can know… about any of it.”

“Of course,” he obliged. “We wouldn’t want anyone learning that our new Primary was mingling with the crew.”

“What? No.” I felt my cheeks flush. “I didn’t mean⁠—”

“I’m kidding.” He laughed.

“Oh.” I tried to laugh too. Somehow, in the short time we’d been talking, I’d forgotten that he was a crew member and I was a resident. I was beginning to realize I had much more in common with him than I ever did with any resident. And he was right. He had surprised me.

“It’s just… no one is supposed to know who I am,” I muttered.

“Your secret is safe with me.”

“Thanks. And I’m sorry about before, in the elevator. I’m sorry I didn’t notice.”

“It’s okay,” he said, then his demeanor seemed to shift. “Uh, I should go.” He placed his hands on his knees and stood.

“You don’t have to,” I blurted, a little to my own surprise.

He turned to me. “I have to get back to work now, Your Majesty.” He gave a small bow.

“You’ll be alright getting back?” I asked.

He paused in my doorway, his fingers drumming in quick succession on the frame. “Don’t worry about me. I know this ship,” he said, one corner of his mouth tugging up. I got the feeling he was stalling.

“Will I see you again?” I asked.

“Sure,” he said, that enamoring smile stealing across his lips. “Next time I make the rounds with the towels. Good night.” He dipped his chin and slipped away.

“Good night,” I murmured as the door closed behind him. “Thanks for the towels.”

I sat alone on my bed, staring pathetically at the spot where he was sitting just a moment ago. Then I remembered something, and dragged my eyes nervously over to my dresser.

Sure enough, there were the cards Thane promised—the speech I was expected to have memorized by tomorrow evening.

I snatched them off the dresser and began to go over them. It was mostly a lot of flourish about how honored I was to become one of the first leaders of the New World—all lies—but I practiced them over and over, pacing the floor until I could no longer keep my eyes open, then I crashed into my bed and fell sound asleep.

After all that, I never even made it into the shower.

I woke up at 7:30 A.M. the following morning to the usual trill of my alarm. I freed my arm from the heap of covers and held out my tag to silence it. My schedule hovered beside me, but I didn’t need to see it to know what tonight was.

The ceremony.

I glanced at the agenda hovering next to me, my entire day devoted to Roxanne and her torture chamber of preening and primping, my evening to the snake-pit of Directives before which I would have to parade around in yet another garish gown. Then, as if that weren’t enough, I’d be expected to deliver a speech to them… and the other 19,500 passengers watching the live broadcast as Ileon and I were presented as their new Regna Primaries. And if they didn’t hate us then and there, they would soon enough… which was why every time I started to get up, my face kept planting decidedly back into the soft embrace of my pillow.

After breakfast, I spent eight long hours in Roxanne’s studio, her hive of bees charging at me with their various tools of torture. The buoyant strings of Mozart’s Violin Concerto No. 3 were playing when I was at last allowed to look in the mirror, met once again by an unrecognizable figure in an exquisite dress.

Gold seemed to be the theme for tonight. I wore a glittering gown emblazoned with gold and crystal beads that curved in and fanned out, forming a layered pattern across the dazzling bodice that swaddled my torso, dipping into a long, draping skirt. A regal-looking cape was fastened at my neck, brushing my shoulders and trailing behind me in a courtly train. Sparkling gold dusted my eyes and cheeks. My hair had been pulled into a cluster of curls at the nape of my neck, fastened in a ring of gold.

Even without the mask, I hardly recognized myself. Maybe no one else will either, I thought hopefully.

Roxanne came clacking up behind me, holding a familiar case that pillowed another gold mask like a crown of jewels. I supposed the mask was just as essential to my royal affectation as any crown would be. Still, I tensed as I watched her place it gingerly on my face.

This is how the world will see me, I thought. A Primary who hides behind a mask.

“You look perfect,” Roxanne said in her smooth, sultry voice. “So regal.”

As I eyed her in the mirror and she wrapped her frigid fingers around my shoulders, something dawned on me. Roxanne knew who I was. What I was. The secret of my identity, which I would have to wear these masks religiously to maintain, rested every bit as much on this woman’s ability to keep a secret as it did on the charade itself. I sighed, realizing the fragility of such a secret.

“Come, Your Highness.” She coerced me away. “Lots of people out there are anxiously awaiting your arrival, including your betrothed.”

She pivoted me toward the door. I lifted my skirt and marched with her through the procession of private passages and staircases leading to the ballroom. The closer we came, the deeper I felt the instinct to run, but the walls of the narrow corridors conspired to forbid my escape. I tried to breathe, to remember that at least Ileon would be out there with me. Even if I barely knew him, it helped to know I would have someone to share the spotlight with.

Bach’s Brandenburg Concerto No. 3 was playing through the gramophone as I stepped out onto the balcony overlooking the ballroom, utterly transformed since the last time I’d seen it, two days ago. Now it resembled the venue I’d seen on screens. Brilliant light radiated from the chandeliers all the way down to the polished marble floors below, luminous, golden hues festooning everything in between. The floor bustled gloriously with Directive men and women all dressed to the nines. It was hard to believe this was all for us.

“Good evening, Your Highness,” a familiar voice creaked behind me. I turned to find Thane’s pale eyes fixed on me. “You look stunning.”

“This is all… quite the ordeal,” I commented as a crew member rolled a cart of decadent hors d’oeuvres past us.

Thane chuckled. “Well, there’s no rule that says we can’t enjoy a little party now and then, is there?”

Little party? I thought, panning the lavish affair below as Kyla’s words surfaced at the back of my mind. “He’s going to drag it all out, turn the whole thing into a spectacle and make you two the stars of the show…”

An exorbitant event, I thought, to cover up an exorbitant mistake.

“Now, there’s just one last matter to take care of before you join the other guests.” Thane guided me away from the revel. When he went for my wrist, I recoiled. “Relax, Your Highness,” he coaxed, turning it up to show the blue glow of my tag. “As I suspected.”

“What?”

“Your tag. It’s still active.”

Thane reached inside his coat and pulled out a small device with a ring of yellow light at the top. He waved it over my arm and my ID appeared on a small, holographic screen. He entered a series of numbers and the screen vanished… as did my tag.

I stared at my arm.

“It’s just for the day,” Thane cautioned. “Roxanne was supposed to have taken care of it, but clearly, I can only trust her with the styling. From now on, if you are in the mask, your tag must be deactivated by me before clearing any point of entry. Once you’ve changed back into uniform, you are to see me immediately to have your tag reactivated. Understood?”

I nodded, but I was more than a little distracted now by the fact that there was no glowing, blue ring on my wrist for the first time in as long as I could remember—nothing tethering me to the Arc. I was completely off the grid. A ghost.

Interesting, I thought, a few dangerous notions involuntarily crossing my mind.

“Now, go enjoy your party,” Thane dismissed. “And no running off.”

“Of course.” I flashed a sardonic smile. “Where would I go?”

I summoned a deep breath and crossed over to the balcony. Beyond the stir of Directives in dazzling colors, I spotted the stage on the far side of the room where Ileon and I would deliver our speeches, our crowns already placed on vaunting display behind the glass podium.

“Play the part”—I focused on Kyla’s words as I started down the grand stairway—“until you have all the pieces.”

I had barely taken the first step, when suddenly a bright beam of light landed on me, Handel erupting loudly from the gramophone—The Arrival of the Queen of Sheba.

Of course.

The ballroom crooned with o-o’s and ah’s as I strained at the blinding light and struggled to make a graceful entrance, feeling every eye on me. Gold confetti showered all around me like sparkling snowfall, yet I felt far from invisible in my glittering dress and mask.

I scanned beyond the glare of light, searching for Ileon, who appeared at the bottom of the stairs with perfect timing.

His coatee was white tonight, embellished with gold-tasseled epaulets and a blue silk sash bordered with gold crewel pinned across his chest. His dark curls had been perfectly trimmed and tousled atop his head. He smiled, accentuating the dimples under his mask, and I felt a wave of relief that was immediately followed by a strange flutter in my chest.

Ileon held his hand out to me. I took it gratefully, and as we promenaded out onto the floor together, he leaned in and whispered, “It’s nice to see you again.”

“It’s nice to see you, too,” I returned, struggling to hold my voice steady.

“You look beautiful.”

I blushed. “You look nice, too.”

Ileon’s smile shifted, as if he had a secret to confess. He drew closer to me and confided, “I’m wearing makeup.”

I looked at him and, seeing that it was in fact true, I laughed. “So am I,” I whispered. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

“Agreed,” he said, and together we stepped into the spurious spotlight, braving the swarm of Directives waiting to devour us.

Ileon and I spent the better part of the evening being flocked everywhere we went by the Directive and their insipid blathering, hearing their collective coo every time I took his arm or he said something that made me smile.

The show has begun.

I knew how crucial it was that I exuded charm tonight. Maybe that was the problem. The more stuffy, inane interactions we suffered through, the more aware I became of just how inept I was at socializing with these people. Luckily, Ileon came armed with enough urbane charm for us both. He mingled brilliantly… almost as if he had been prepping for this night all along.

Perhaps he has.

As I stood at the refreshment table, watching Ileon pour our drinks while we had a moment to catch our breath, I wondered if he knew this was all a show. I wondered if he had any inclination at all that we were only here to answer for the Directive’s misdeeds, whatever they may be.

Ileon looked up and smiled, and I was suddenly aware of my stare. I turned away, pretending to admire the symposium around me. That was when I spotted a pair of commanders posted at one of the entrances.

He whispered something in her ear. She threw her head back and laughed. Tye and Kyla.

At first, I was glad to see them. Then I felt a twinge of jealousy, watching them mock this whole ridiculous scene from afar. Then came the compulsive urge to kick off these atrocious heels and join them. Thankfully, Ileon returned with our drinks before I could give in to the impulse.

“Here you are.” He handed me a glass of pink punch with white flower petals floating at the top. “Be careful of those,” he coughed. “They’re a choking hazard.”

I wished I hadn’t just taken a sip. I almost spat in his face trying to suppress a laugh.

“Sorry.” He bit his lip. “Bad timing.”

“No, I’m glad you said something.” Now I was coughing. “That would’ve been embarrassing—survive the Exitus only to die choking on a flower.” Ileon laughed as I plucked out the petals and flicked them to the ground. “Oops.” I winced. “Was that poor etiquette?”

“Don’t ask me.” He shrugged. “I never know how to conduct myself at these things. To be honest, these people have always scared me a little.”

“I never would’ve guessed it,” I said.

Ileon scoffed, dismissing the praise modestly.

“I’m serious,” I said. “I don’t think I would’ve survived this night without you. I’ve never had to do anything like this before.”

He shot me a perplexed look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… the dress, the mask, all these people watching us.” I held my glass to my chest as I looked out at the pack of probing eyes fixed on the two of us.

“Me neither,” Ileon confessed. “In fact, I’ve spent most of the last three years hiding from these people.”

I laughed, but again I had to wonder… where had he been hiding?

Sensing this was neither the time nor the place to ask, I combed the ballroom in search of a different topic. My eyes wandered up to the tall ceiling, where I noticed the narrow rectangles of pitch-black night above. Skylights. They were hardly visible beyond the glare of the chandeliers, but still, they were the first windows I’d seen in years.

“Do you think there are still stars out there somewhere?” I asked.

Ileon followed my gaze. “Sure,” he said. “We just… can’t see them in here.”

“I can’t wait to see them again.”

Ileon turned to me, smiling in agreement. Then the music changed, a familiar tune of trumpets starting up.

“Purcell,” I blurted.

“What?”

“The song. Don’t you recognize it?”

“O-oh,” Ileon stammered. “Right.”

“I wouldn’t know who it was either,” I felt the need to clarify, “but Thane always quizzes me on the composers.”

“Ah.” Ileon turned his ear to listen. “Who did you say this was?”

“Purcell.”

“It’s amazing,” he said with that spark—that flicker of awe and appreciation, like somehow the music was still new and wonderful to him.

A grin tugged at my lips. “I guess it is.”

Ileon cleared his throat. “So, I hear you get to make the first speech tonight. Lucky you,” he teased, taking another sip of punch.

“Thanks for reminding me,” I grumbled

“At least we get to read from cards,” he said. “Chancellor Thane was adamant we recite those to the letter.”

“He didn’t let you write your own speech either?”

“No,” he said emphatically. “If he had, it would be less than seven cards.”

“Seven?” I repeated. “I only have three.”

“What?” Ileon feigned outrage. “That hardly seems fair.”

“Well, Thane probably knew I’d have a harder time getting through them than you,” I joked, though secretly, I wondered what was written on his seven cards.

“Doubtful,” he retorted. “I’m a nervous wreck.”

“Me too… under all this.” I lifted a finger off my glass to gesture to the mask.

Ileon smiled. “Well, here’s to both of us conquering our fear of public speaking tonight.” He raised his glass to mine.

As I stared at the crystal coupe he held up, Kyla’s warning about playing my part reeled through my head again, eventually course-colliding with Thane’s. “There is a plan at work here, Aiza. You just have to trust in it and do your part.”

But what was my part? Were Ileon and I here simply to spin some delusional narrative on the Directive’s behalf? Or would we truly hold some semblance of power after this? I supposed tonight would tell.

“Cheers.” I tapped my glass to his.

Before long, the mingling was called to an end and it was time to get down to business. As Directive members all filed into their seats in an orderly fashion, Ileon and I mounted the forum and took our places behind Thane, who readily assumed center stage. His back hunched even more than usual over the glass podium as he sifted through his cue cards and tapped the golden microphone.

“Still feeling nervous?” Ileon whispered to me.

“What?” I could hardly hear him over my pounding heart.

“You can hold my hand again, if it helps.” He offered it to me. “I think it’s allowed… you know, since we’re engaged.”

I stared at his outstretched hand, trying to decide if Ileon could really be as good as he seemed. I reminded myself that this was just the calm before the storm, that eventually this would all turn ugly, and for all I knew, so could he.

Sensing my reluctance, Ileon proffered a confession, “Okay, the truth is, I could use a hand to steady me too. And I’m not even wearing heels.”

I smiled, but wavered still.

Ileon extended his hand further, patiently waiting for me to take it. So finally I did.

The microphone screeched, the shrill sound cutting through the mild chatter of the audience seated before us, calling their attention to the front.

“Good evening,” Thane greeted, his reedy voice bellowing through the speakers, “esteemed members of the Directive, and all other denizens of the Aureate tuning in from your rooms. We do so appreciate you taking time out of your busy schedules to join us as we gather to witness a momentous occasion, not only for all of us here tonight, but for the New World and its legacy. Now, I know you haven’t come to listen to me give another lengthy address, so I’ll turn things right over to our guests of honor. Ladies and gentlemen, it is my great pleasure to present to you all for the first time—our new leaders who will bravely deliver us to the New World—Regna Primaries Ileon and Azara!”

He extended his arm toward us in a grand gesture and a gush of cheers arose.

I glanced at Ileon, feeling like I might be sick. He tightened his grip on my hand as we stepped into the spotlight.

The audience roared. I’d never seen the Directive demonstrate such adamance for anything. As I took in their overwhelming praise, I had to wonder why they were all so raring to relinquish their rule to the two of us. I doubted anyone watching below was exhibiting such enthusiasm for this bestowal of power.

In my peripheral, I caught a glimpse of Ileon and myself on the holo-screen, the two of us standing hand in hand, in our matching masks and ensembles—the image currently being transmitted throughout the ship. Ileon’s winning smile was unfaltering. As I studied him, it crossed my mind that perhaps he came from some noble, well-to-do family, and that was why this all came so naturally to him. I wondered if he remembered his life before this, or if he’d been scrubbed like the rest of us.

As the camera panned across the room, out among the effusion of applause, I detected the one person in the audience not possessed by approbation. The Directive girl.

I turned to her, seated quietly in front of us, staring up at me through her round, tortoise glasses. For a moment, I panicked that she recognized me from our brief exchange in the hall the other day. Impossible, I told myself as Thane motioned me forward to begin my speech.

I took a deep breath and approached the podium. Here we go…

“Hello,” I greeted faintly, the microphone amplifying the slight quiver in my voice. Still, they clapped at the single word I’d uttered, and as I fumbled with my cards, it occurred to me that maybe no matter how much I messed this up, they had to applaud when it was over.

Play the part, I reminded myself as I looked down at the gold cards, the printed lines identical to the ones I had practiced in my room, and still I had no idea how I was going to recite them to the whole ship. I felt the bright light beating down on me, the palpable strain of silence I had allowed to carry on too long as my throat tightened and my hands shook.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Aureate,” I tried to project my voice, “I am proud to stand before you tonight and accept the honor of becoming one of the first leaders of the New World. It is a position I take on with both solemn consideration for the enormous responsibility entailed, as well as eager anticipation for the propitious future that awaits us…”

As I stood under that spotlight and dictated the florid words I had so rigorously rehearsed, I looked out at the crowd… and suddenly a thought struck me.

Since the very first landing delay, the Directive had worked tirelessly to maintain the ideal that we were the ones chosen to survive. We were each specially selected to live in this grand-scale refuge and spend our days training to carry out the sacred mission of bringing life back to the world. As such, surely the Directive wanted to present its people with leaders who were young, illustrious, even enigmatic in our golden masks and attire. Ileon and I were merely an extension of the show they had been putting on since the moment we boarded, to convince us that we’d made the right choice in coming here… that they’d made the right choice in bringing us here.

But what if they didn’t?

Target… that word Kyla used surged through my mind.

Something had happened to derail the Directive’s plan—the supposedly infallible plan that brought us all here. Soon we would find out what, but not until Ileon and I were poised to take the blame. That was why we were here today, why the Directive feigned such support the moment we stepped onto the stage.

We were all a part of the show today—everyone in this room.

Thane had to know this mask wouldn’t hide me forever.

Maybe he’s counting on it.

Target, the word screamed through my head as my breath hitched and my eyes raced around the blurry abyss beyond the light.

Then, just as I began to feel trapped under the suffocating beam, surrounded by a sea of scrutinizing stares… I spotted a familiar face.

I doubled back, certain my eyes had deceived me. But there he was, lined up in the back of the ballroom with the rest of the serving staff in their white dinner coats—the crew boy with the bronze hair and blue eyes and gold necklace, wearing that same bright smile as last night.

“You need to have a little more faith.” His words echoed through me. “In the end of the road. One day we’ll all get off this ship. We’ll go back to the ground and things will change. They’ll be better out there…”

I wanted to believe in that now more than ever—that one day we could all have a life beyond the one the Directive ordained for us. He could do more than serve on their crew, and I could do more than play a part in their show.

Then another thought stirred—a dangerous one. Whatever dire misstep Ileon and I were here to atone for, whatever fallout we would incur, it had put me in a position, here and now, where just for a moment, all eyes were on me. Thane would be held accountable for anything I said. I had the whole ship listening, but more importantly, he was listening—the crew boy who told me last night that he got on this ship because he wanted to live.

I dropped the cards and lifted my face to the light.

I saw Thane flinch out of the corner of my eye, but he waited, watching me.

So I took a deep breath… and then I gave my own speech.

“We are all that’s left of the world, all of us here on this ship,” I began. “I know we’ve all lost a lot. But we are still here. That’s a gift too great to waste. And now it’s up to us to return to the ground, not just to reinhabit it, but to try to be better this time. And that doesn’t mean we won’t make mistakes. Mistakes will be made.” I couldn’t help but look straight at Thane when I said it. “This is the Age of the Exitus; even the best-laid plans can go awry. But each of us has a choice to make now, about what kind of world we’re going to build when we go back. We can simply survive, or we can find a way to live again, to foster a future where we all have an equal chance at a better life, not just for us, but for those who will come after us. As your new Primary, I promise to do everything in my power”—again, I couldn’t resist shooting a glare at Thane—“to see that future become reality, not just for the people in this room, but for every passenger on this ship, every one of you listening out there. Look,” I dropped my voice, suddenly aware of the volume I had accumulated, “I know we’re all anxious to go back. And I know we’re scared, too. But soon the Salvus Team is going to send for us. And we’ll be ready when they do, to make the ground our home again. And whatever happens down there—whatever danger we face, whatever mistakes we make along the way… that home will belong to all of us.”

I paused a moment, taking in the dense silence of the crowd, bracing myself for what would happen once the cameras turned off, and then I concluded my speech.

“Thank you.”

The cameras cut and I watched it like a countdown, as one by one the cameramen signaled to Thane that they had stopped recording. I could hear every shaky breath echoing back at me through the speakers, over the looming silence of an entirely unresponsive audience.

So much for applause no matter what.

It occurred to me that the words I said were not meant for the people in this room—the founders of the system I had all but suggested we eradicate.

I looked for the crew boy, but I didn’t see him now—only the slight, surreptitious smirk of the Directive girl seated in the front row.

I was just beginning to grasp what a colossal error in judgment I’d made, when suddenly Thane came tearing onto the stage, asserting himself in my place. He swept me out of the way, dismissing the audience hastily and imparting apologies that we had run out of time to hear from anyone else. Ileon.

The Directive rose from their seats, herding toward the exits in a muddled dispatch. Kyla stood her post by the doors, but as soon as the last Directive member had filed out, she looked up at me, gave one last condemning head shake, and then she, too, left.

Once the ballroom was vacated, Thane snapped his fingers and four commanders emerged from the shadows, flanking me and Ileon, each seizing one of our arms. The one on my left had an overzealous grip and nearly twisted mine out of its socket as he dragged me off the stage.

“Ow!” I shrieked, fighting to free myself. “Let go of me!”

But he only bore down harder, exacerbating the pain until finally I felt a rip.

“Ah!” I yowled, a sharp pain shooting through my shoulder.

“Hey!” a familiar voice called from somewhere beyond the scourge of blackvests surrounding us. I strained into the dim ambit backstage and saw a figure in white emerge. “She said let go,” the crew boy demanded, storming over to us.

“Get away!” warned the blackvest, releasing me only to shove the boy aside.

The boy staggered back into the shadows, and for a moment, he just stood there, fists tight at his side, a fierce glint in his eye as he concentrated on the sounds around him. Then, without warning, he launched himself at the commander, his fists flying through the air like hot missiles, laying into the blackvest as he took him to the ground.

The second commander unhanded me to intervene. “Look out!” I warned, stretching my injured arm to its limit as he snatched the crew boy up by the lapels of his jacket, forcing him to his feet. The boy tried to fight back, but within seconds, a dozen blackvests had us surrounded and seized all three of us, hauling us through the backstage door.

Four of the commanders broke away, dragging the crew boy with them. I wanted to call out some kind of thanks to the boy for intervening on my behalf, but I knew any last second cry of gratitude would be woefully insufficient in the face of whatever punishment awaited him for assaulting a commander.

The remaining blackvests led me and Ileon down the hall and cuffed our hands behind our backs, seating us against the wall and instructing us to stay put as they left.

I grimaced, less bothered by the ache in my shoulder than by what might become of the crew boy who had stepped in to save me. Why did he do that? We hadn’t spoken for more than a few minutes last night. I didn’t even know his name.

None of this would be happening if I had stuck to the cards. I didn’t know what came over me. I saw that crew boy and suddenly all I wanted was to promise him that things would be better on the ground, that he could find that better life he still hoped for.

That was when it hit me—what I’d said in my speech that was such an affront to Thane and the ideals of the Directive and the very foundation of the Aureate.

An equal chance.

I stood at that podium and promised a New World that would belong to all of us. I was in no position to make such a promise. The New World belonged to the Directive, as did we all. That was the only way in which we were equal.

At least now, I thought as I stared at the shimmering layers of fabric heaped in my lap, Thane will see that I was right. He should’ve picked someone else.

I looked to Ileon—his hands bound behind his back, head down, probably quietly resenting me for the disaster I’d made of our grand debut.

He must’ve sensed me staring. He lifted his head, his amber eyes catching mine.

I knew I should say something, but no string of apologies seemed adequate to make up for what I’d done. “This is all my fault, Ileon. I’m so sorry,” I attempted. “I didn’t think you would… or they would…” I sighed, giving up on the pitiful endeavor. “I just didn’t think. It was stupid—really stupid.”

“No, it wasn’t.” Ileon’s response surprised me. “Well, maybe a little.” He grinned. “But I thought what you said was amazing. Certainly better than anything Thane wrote for us.”

I gaped at him. “Really? You’re not… mad at me?”

“Why would I be?”

“Because I just sabotaged our introduction. Look at you!” I exclaimed. “You’re in handcuffs.”

“Eh, it’s not the first time,” Ileon joked, but I couldn’t bring myself to laugh.

“I made all those promises the Directive will never keep,” I said distraughtly. “I basically lied to all those people about their future.”

“I’m sure Thane will find a way to spin it,” Ileon muttered. “You should’ve seen his face when you put those cards down. I thought that vein in his neck might pop.” He laughed, and this time I managed to join in.

“But you never got to make your speech.”

“Shame,” Ileon deadpanned. “But really, thank you for that.”

“Don’t thank me yet,” I cautioned. “After tonight, you might be on the hook for speeches from now on, Primary Ileon.”

This time he didn’t laugh.

I looked over, afraid I might’ve said something wrong. He was still smiling, but there was a new intensity in his mask-shrouded eyes now. “Leo,” was all he said.

I stared at him blankly. “What?”

“You can call me Leo, if you want. That’s what they called me… you know… before all this.”

“We… aren’t supposed to tell each other our names,” I murmured.

“I know, but I just feel so ridiculous in all of this.” He gestured to his fine clothes. “This isn’t me. I wanted you to at least know my real name, or… the one they gave me after I was scrubbed.”

So he was scrubbed. “Leo, huh?”

He nodded. “We’re in this together now… right?” He looked at me intently, as though he, too, had been wondering from the moment we met.

As he awaited my response, it occurred to me that there were no cameras pointed at us now, no audience watching, and still he was being kind. Maybe it wasn’t an act. Maybe Ileon—Leo—wasn’t too good to be true. Maybe he was just… good.

“Right,” I finally answered.

He sighed through a smile. “I’m glad, Azara.”

“Aiza,” I reciprocated his gesture of good faith. “You can call me Aiza.”

His smile grew, showing off those dimples again. “It’s nice to meet you, Aiza.”

“You too, Leo.”

“I’d shake your hand, but… it’s tied up at the moment.” Leo tugged at his binds.

I laughed. “Why did they pick us for this?” I finally freed the question that had consumed my mind for the last two days.

“Funny,” a sibilating third voice carried across the hall. We both turned to find Thane’s man, Amon, approaching in his shiny, white suit, two blackvests tailing him closely. “I was beginning to wonder the same thing.”

They stopped in front of us, Amon’s glossy shoes planting themselves in front of the commanders’ boots. “Now, I must request you both come with me.” Amon fanned his pale fingers against his chest, his wild, dark-ringed eyes leering down at us.

I didn’t withhold my reluctance to be escorted anywhere by another blackvest so soon after the last incident. Amon picked up on it.

“I told the Chancellor that a commander escort shouldn’t be necessary,” he said. “We won’t be having any more trouble today, will we, Your Highness?” His tone suggested more of a malicious warning than a gracious accommodation. “He insisted I bring them along, just in case. Release them.” He nodded at the two of us.

The commanders freed us from our cuffs and Leo stood, shaking out his wrists. He offered me a hand up, which I accepted gratefully, given my footwear.

“This way,” Amon beckoned, starting down the narrow hallway. The blackvests’ boots clomped ominously behind us as Leo and I followed.

A feeling of foreboding came over me as Amon led us through a network of passages that grew darker and more obscured with each step. Still, I kept moving, figuring it would be better for everyone if I surrendered willingly to whatever punishment Thane had in store for me.

Leo, however, could afford to be less acquiescent. “Where exactly are you taking us?” he asked as we passed a curious wall of blinking lights.

“I’m glad you asked,” Amon replied, proceeding down a steep set of stairs, the cadence of his words matching his tromping steps. “You see, Chancellor Thane has invested a great deal of time and capital into this ship and the lives it secures. As such, he must take the necessary measures to ensure that none of his carefully calculated plans go awry.”

“That doesn’t answer my question,” Leo challenged as we descended after him.

“I’m getting to that part.” Amon stopped short on the landing and turned to us. “What happened today at the ceremony was—how shall I put it? A glitch in a very complex system. Even the tiniest glitch can cause system failure. And, as we are the only people left to reinhabit the planet, on the cusp of returning to the ground for the first time since the quakes, failure is not an option. So”—his ice-blue eyes held mine hostage—“to ensure there will be no more glitches, the Chancellor has arranged for a little presentation, an example of what happens when certain lines are crossed.”

He sauntered over to a keypad on the wall across from us and tapped out a code. The wall trilled and rumbled and suddenly parted down the middle. As it opened, Amon motioned for us to enter.

Seeing no other outlet, Leo and I stepped through the rifted wall, commanders still tight on our heels. Inside the recondite room, paint peeled from the walls. The lights were sparse and sputtering, the floor puddled with what I assumed was giving off the rancid smell assaulting my nose. Two more commanders stood in the middle of the room, still as statues. Another lurked in the far corner, tapping something against his palm that I couldn’t make out.

Thane was nowhere to be seen. I wasn’t sure how that boded, but immediately, I got the sickening feeling that this was a room where terrible things happened—things few were supposed to know about.

Amon entered last, waiting for the wall to close behind us before nodding at the commanders in the center. They stepped aside, revealing a sight that made my heart heave in my chest.

The crew boy.

He was knelt on the ground, his wrists bound in front of him in manacles trussed to the floor. His shirt had been cast aside, the gold pendant hanging at his bare chest, facets of the blue gem catching the flickering light.

My stomach wrenched as I watched that last commander move from the shadows and take a stance behind the crew boy, raising to the light what I now saw was an electric baton—a weapon employed only in cases of extreme punishment, or so I’d heard. I’d never seen one used… until now.

The commander pressed a button and the baton lit up, humming with energy.

“No!” My cry rang out as he dealt the first blow to the crew boy’s back.

The boy’s agonizing moan echoed the piercing crackle of the electric current as it made contact. Tendrils of white-hot light shot across his shoulder.

“An example of what happens when certain lines are crossed…” Amon’s words echoed in my head as I gazed upon the jagged burns left on the boy’s back, and immediately, I understood.

This was not about the boy’s petty infraction—taking that commander to the ground. No. I was the one who publicly betrayed Thane and the Directive today. But Thane couldn’t hurt me. I was a part of the show now. So he made an example of the crew boy instead.

Thane wasn’t here, but still I sensed him somewhere, watching me as I witnessed this innocent person suffer for my offense.

“Stop!” I shrieked in desperate protest and lunged toward the crew boy, but one of the commanders readily snatched me back.

The one bearing the baton looked at me, brandishing a sinister grin set against a jaw that looked like it could withstand a hail of bullets.

I clawed and thrashed fiercely against the strong pair of arms restraining me, ignoring the pain in my shoulder. “You can’t do this!” I pleaded frantically. “Please! Tell them to stop!”

But Amon remained unmoved by my supplications.

The baton drubbed the crew boy’s back again, his cry following the bright strobe of searing light. I felt my chest wring with pity as I watched the white filaments brand his skin with spindling burns, knowing there was nothing I could do or say to stop it. Here, sequestered in this room with only Amon, Leo, a few blackvests, and a crew member who had stepped out of line, the title I’d been appointed this evening meant nothing. They took their orders from Thane, and Thane alone.

I gave up fighting the commander’s insuperable hold, watching helplessly as the charged baton struck the boy’s back a third time, then a fourth. I felt my heart plunge like a stone down a well, despising Thane for the power he held over everyone in this room, despising the Exitus for granting it to him.

In that moment, any distrust or apprehension I’d harbored toward Thane over the years turned to blatant disdain. The Chancellor was a monster and a coward. He enacted unconscionable savagery such as this and no one even knew about it… unless he wanted them to.

“You need to have a little more faith.” The crew boy’s words from last night drifted through my mind again as the weapon strafed him a fifth time. “In the end of the road. One day we’ll all get off this ship. We’ll go back to the ground and things will change. They’ll be better out there…”

I wondered if he would still have any faith left after this.

The boy’s cries dwindled to mere whimpers. His arms buckled as he struggled to hold himself up, and eventually he collapsed.

The commander raised the baton to strike again, but Amon put his hand up, as if this was the breaking point he was waiting for the crew boy to reach before consenting to end this gruesome exhibit.

The commander grunted and stepped away. The other released me and went to free the boy from his restraints. I sank to my knees, watching it all subside like a raging tide quietly receding after a storm, revealing all the damage left in its wake.

The crew boy, who just last night stood smiling brightly before me, now lay slumped on the ground, damp tendrils of bronze hair stuck to his forehead, his mangled back heaving as he pulled for air. The whole ordeal couldn’t have lasted more than a few minutes, but the atrocity seemed to drag on eternally.

The blackvests pushed past me to exit the room. I remained knelt on the ground, unable to move. Just before Amon decamped, he leaned in close, lifting the hairs on the back of my neck as he whispered, “Consider this your warning, Your Highness. Next time it will be you.”

With that, he left me to steep in the consequences of my actions.

As soon as we were alone, Leo removed his coatee and rolled up his sleeves. He approached the boy shivering on the floor, analyzing the jagged burns that marred his back. Slowly, I stood and made my way over to them. The stench of burnt flesh was overwhelming as Leo and I each slid an arm under the boy’s ribcage, lifting him off the floor as gently as we could manage. The boy threw his head back and groaned, but pushed through the pain, keeping an arm around each of us as he set one foot in front of the other, and together, we exited the nightmarish room with clumsy determination, stumbling into the first elevator we could find.

I hit the button for my floor, not knowing where else to go. Leo said nothing about the fact that it was against the rules for a crew member to enter a resident’s suite for any reason other than housekeeping. He just helped me haul the boy out of the elevator and across the hall quickly, before we were seen.

Inside my room, Leo took the brunt of the crew boy’s weight while I went back to shut my door, ignoring the red flash alerting me of a trespasser. Just as I turned to the door, though, out of the corner of my eye, I saw a shadow scurry around the corner.

I stepped outside, peering down the long hall, but there were no signs of movement now. I returned to my room and closed the door, not allowing myself to think of it as I went to help Leo lay the boy onto my bed. The boy bit his fist to keep from wailing in pain as we eased him onto his stomach. Then he went limp, unconscious.

“This is all my fault,” I said dolefully.

Leo looked at me across the bed. “You couldn’t have known he was going to ambush that commander.”

“That’s not why they did this to him,” I murmured.

Leo sighed. “I know.” Then suddenly his eyes lifted, his brow arching up over the mask as he asked, “Why did he go after that commander?”

I gulped uneasily. I had wondered the same thing, but now I realized I knew the answer.

“What?” Leo asked, seeing the guilt seep into my expression.

“I sort of… talked to him last night,” I confessed. “He was delivering towels to my room and… I told him who I am. Or what I am.”

“You mean…?” Leo couldn’t even bring himself to say it aloud in the presence of our passed-out company. I nodded. Leo’s eyes dropped. “So, do you know him?”

“No,” I admitted. “Not really. I had just met him last night.”

He gave a diffident nod, too gracious to come out and tell me what a perfect fool I was. Instead, he kept his eyes fixed on the brutalized crew boy between us. “They’re monsters,” he uttered with an unexpected profusion of hatred. “I can’t believe they’d do something like this, just to show us what happens when we break the rules. Like we don’t already know how ruthless they can be.”

I stared at him, too stunned by the contempt in his voice to respond. But that contempt made me realize… maybe his fealty didn’t lie with the Directive any more than mine did.

The crew boy exuded another moan.

“We need to get him help,” I said.

“I’ll go get someone from Med,” Leo offered, starting toward the door.

“Leo, wait,” I blurted, tearing my focus away from the boy momentarily.

Leo paused, turning to me.

I couldn’t stand it anymore. I knew I shouldn’t do this, but right now I didn’t care. I bowed my head and removed my mask, lifting my face to the light.

Leo froze with his hand on the door as I started toward him slowly, but when I was close enough to reach for his mask, he turned away. “Aiza…” he warned.

“We’re already in worse trouble than this,” I reminded, my hand hovering by his face.

“I know,” Leo muttered. “It’s not that.”

He didn’t protest further, though. He faced me, and this time, when I went to take his mask, he let me.

I was surprised by the face I unmasked. Not because of anything about it in particular, but whatever I had imagined the hidden part of his face to look like, it was not the face I saw before me now, in all its detail. His eyes looked different—two circles of light amber contained within rings of deep brown, each outlined by a crop of thick, dark lashes that matched his black curls. There was something intriguing about those eyes, almost… familiar.

“Huh,” I uttered. Immediately, I wished I’d said something better.

Leo bit his lip, accentuating the nervous lines of his smile. “Is that a good ‘huh’?”

“Sorry, yes.” I blinked. “It’s just… you look different than I thought you would.”

I winced. That wasn’t better.

Leo laughed softly. “You do too, but in a good way. You are beautiful, Aiza.” His eyes retreated quickly to the ground, as though he wasn’t sure he was allowed to say that when it was just the two of us. Then they went to the crew boy.

“He won’t see you,” I said.

“He’s passed out now, but he could wake up and⁠—”

“No.” I stopped him there. “I mean he’s blind.”

Leo’s gaze drifted to the crew boy as he considered this, then he turned back to me. “Can I ask how that happened?” He gestured to the scar above my eye.

“Oh”—I ran my finger over it—“it’s from…” Then I realized how that sentence would end and cut myself off so fast, my head spun.

“What?” Leo caught a laugh.

“You know, I don’t remember, actually,” I lied, banishing the blank look on my face.

“Strange to think, isn’t it?” Leo commented. “A few years ago, you probably would’ve remembered the story behind a scar like that.”

“Yeah,” I replied vacantly, partly because I did, of course, remember the story behind this scar, but also because I was gearing up to ask him another question. “Where have you been all this time, Leo? I heard the other residents talking about you, but no one seems to know where you came from. Have you really just been hiding up on the Directive floors all this time?”

Leo bowed his head. “Something like that.”

His answer seemed intentionally cryptic. I got the dissatisfying feeling there was something he wasn’t saying. I might’ve kept prying, but we were interrupted by another terrible groan from the crew boy.

“I should go get someone,” Leo said, looking suddenly eager to leave.

I nodded, following him out so I could do one more sweep of the hall. I didn’t see anyone. Still, I couldn’t shake the disconcerting feeling that a spy was lurking somewhere unseen.

“Aiza?” Leo beckoned.

“Huh?” I blinked.

“Should I put this on?” He held up his mask. “Or maybe change, or…?” He scoffed. “It doesn’t really matter now, does it?”

I twisted my lips and shook my head.

Leo nodded and started toward the intersecting hall, but he quickly doubled back.

“Sorry… Med is on the seventh floor, right?” he asked.

“Yes…” I trailed. “East side, just past the Mess.”

“Right. Got it.” Leo bobbed his head. “I’ll be back as soon as I can.”

He doesn’t know where Med is? I wondered as he left, but I shelved the thought quickly, turning to the crew boy in my bed.

“And I’ll stay here with you,” I said.

I wasn’t sure if he could hear me. I just wanted him to know that he wasn’t alone.

Despite what I’d told Leo, I still changed into my uniform after he left. I took my hair down, washed my face and stashed the gold dress in the back of my closet. Leo must’ve had the same idea, because when he returned with a nurse a few minutes later, his curls were mussed and every layer of his regal outfit had been shed, save for a plain, white undershirt and white pants. He could almost have passed for a crew member himself.

As the nurse set to work examining the crew boy’s burns, she didn’t exactly look shocked or abhorred. She just got this suddenly tired look in her eyes, like she had treated this infliction before. She didn’t ask what had happened, but she refused to administer painkillers from her carefully cataloged inventory for what was clearly done as punishment. Instead, she left us with a salve to prevent infection while he healed and a single sleeping pill. She said if he could lie still while it set, he would hurt less when he woke. “Still,” she had warned just before leaving, “it may be a long recovery.”

Once the crew boy took the sedative and sank into a deep sleep, I began covering his injuries with the liniment. Leo disappeared into the bathroom and returned moments later with towels doused in cold water. I draped them over the boy’s burns, trying not to think about the fact that they were the very towels he’d brought to my room last night.

Leo offered to stay after that, but I told him to get some sleep.

Once he left, I came and sat next to the crew boy, watching him shiver and breathe shallowly. Sweat drenched his forehead, attesting to his misery. I reached out to dab some of it away, but quickly retracted my hand, afraid of waking him. I browsed his dozing features instead—his strong brow, long nose, angular jaw. Then my gaze went to his wrist resting on the pillow by his head, the glow of his tag beaming brightly. I wondered how it was still intact, after the shocks he’d incurred. Must be some sort of failsafe. Of course, I thought bitterly, knowing Thane would see that he’d been in my room, and no doubt I would hear about it tomorrow. But right now that didn’t matter.

Eventually, I worked up the nerve to peel back one of the towels and inspect his burns—the sharp, scrawling, red lines thrashing out from the points of impact.

“I’m so sorry they did this to you,” I said softly. “This is all my fault.”

I couldn’t look anymore. I replaced the towel and diverted my gaze to the floor, where I found the mask I’d kicked under the bed when Leo and the nurse arrived.

I picked it up and held it in front of me. “I’m glad I don’t have to wear this around you,” I said to the crew boy. “I mean, not because… I just mean because you already know who I am.” I scrunched my eyes, flustered. “I’m also glad you can’t hear me right now,” I muttered.

I set the mask aside and gazed at the boy, who seemed to have settled into a still, perhaps even peaceful sleep at last. I reached out, this time unafraid to gently brush the damp strands of bronze hair from his eyes. I pressed the back of my hand to his warm cheek. “Do you want to hear a secret?” I whispered. “I have no idea what I’m doing here.”

It felt good to finally say that aloud to someone, even if he was sound asleep.

At least… I thought he was. But then his chin moved. His eyes fluttered.

I watched with bated breath until he was still again.

It was probably just a sleeping twitch, but still, it spooked me. I stood and retreated to the chair across the room, where I resolved to stay until he woke.

I must’ve nodded off, because it was hours later when I awoke to the sounds of the crew boy stirring.

“Hey.” I stood and rushed to his side. “How are you feeling?”

The boy gave a dull groan and blinked, straining to lift his head. “Where am I?” he asked hoarsely.

“You’re, uh… in my room.”

He collapsed back into the pillow, turning up one side of his mouth in a bleary smile. “I knew this wasn’t my bed. It’s way too comfortable. Do all residents have it this good, or just you, Your Majesty?”

I laughed uneasily. “You’re probably still feeling the sedative.”

“Probably. Is the nurse still here?”

“No, she had to go. She… had other patients.”

“Yeah,” he scoffed. “Those Directive patients with their indigestion and blood pressure meds—they don’t like to be kept waiting,” he grumbled, the towels falling as he curled on his side.

“Right,” I said faintly, clearing them away. “Do you… want to try and sit up?”

“Okay.”

He took the hand I offered him and squeezed tight. He looked like he wanted to scream as he pulled himself up, but when he let go, all he said was, “I told you so.”

“What?”

“That you’d see me again.” He gave a groggy grin, propping himself on his fists. “Admittedly, this wasn’t exactly what I had in mind—ah!” He bridged his back as another wave of pain hit. “You might have to find someone else to bring you towels tonight. I have a feeling I’ll be out of commission for a while. Mm.” He tensed.

“Okay, take it easy.” I coaxed him back onto the pillows, arranging them around him. “Better?”

“Yeah, thanks. I’m Cace, by the way,” he said as I sat beside him on the bed’s edge. “It seems like I should introduce myself. We’ve been spending so much quality time together and all.”

“Cace.” I smiled, glad to finally learn the name of the boy who had come to my rescue tonight.

“It was my name before the Aureate,” he added, his voice pinched. “I know I’m not supposed to remember it, but they’re the ones who forgot to give me a new one.”

“You… weren’t assigned a new name?”

Cace shook his head.

“So you use your real name?”

Cace shrugged, his blue eyes glassy. “Haven’t gotten in trouble yet—not for that, anyway. I guess tackling a commander to the ground was probably asking for it… in hindsight.” He flinched again, sipping in a breath.

“Well, I won’t tell,” I said. “The truth is, I remember my name, too.”

“We’re going to have to stop having these talks,” Cace teased, his smile starting to recover some of its glow. “It’s getting dangerous. All these secrets.”

“I know,” I said, rather than admitting the truth. I liked talking to him.

Cace tapped his tag and I nearly jumped when a voice read out the time. I’d never heard a tag do that before. “It’s late,” he commented, then his face wrenched again.

“You’re still hurting. Here, I’ll call the nurse back in,” I said, reaching for the console. “I’m sure she could give you another dose to⁠—”

“No, don’t.” Cace’s hand flew to mine. “I’m fine, really.”

“Are you sure?” I asked, staring at his hand on mine and feeling a strange stir.

“I’ve taken up your bed long enough,” he said. “I don’t need to be passed out here all night. So do I get to hear this real name of yours, or is this room wired?”

“Oh wow, I hope not.” I shuddered at the implication.

Cace waited expectantly. “I told you mine,” he pressed. “It’s only fair. How else will I know you’ll keep my secret?”

I shook my head. It would be the least I could do. “My name was Anna… before,” I said, fuzzy, fragmented memories flickering and fading at the mention of the name I hadn’t uttered in so long. One in particular came shooting to the surface—the boy who came racing down the hall my first day here, calling it out, “Anna!”

“Anna,” Cace repeated, pulling my focus back. I looked down, noting his hand still resting on mine. “You have a lot of names, Your Majesty. Which should I call you?”

“Not Your Majesty,” I said, perhaps a bit too adamantly. “I think Aiza would be safest. That’s the name they assigned to me.”

“Aiza it is,” Cace obliged. Then, as if suddenly aware of it, he removed his hand from mine and wrapped it around his abdomen with a nervous grunt.

My skin felt cold where his palm had been, and he suddenly felt much further away. The quiet that followed felt worse than saying what I knew I had to, this time while he was awake to hear it.

“I’m sorry, Cace,” I implored. “This is all my fault.”

Cace shook his head. “This is not your fault. I should know better by now than to take on one of Thane’s thugs. It’s never gone well for me.”

“Yeah, well…” I sighed, “things probably would’ve worked out better for both of us if I hadn’t publicly defied Thane or his thugs tonight.”

“Touché,” he conceded. “I take it the speech you gave wasn’t his idea?”

“No, it was not.”

“Well, I liked it… for the record.”

I smiled. “You pack a mean punch… ‘for the record.’”

He laughed. “Thanks.”

“No, thank you… for saving me from that commander.”

“I didn’t,” he pointed out.

“Well, if you hadn’t stepped in, I think he would’ve twisted my arm clean off. For what it’s worth”—I placed my hand on his—“you were my hero.”

It was almost imperceptible, but I felt his thumb sweep the inside of mine. “Well,” he said quietly, “I couldn’t have you thinking all crew members are too busy to stop for the damsels in distress.” His thumb wrapped around mine, and I felt an inexplicable floating sensation. I looked into his blue eyes… and all I could seem to do was drift closer.

What am I doing? I retracted my hand, some unnamable force disrupting the trance just beginning to take hold.

“So,” Cace cleared his throat, quick to keep the conversation moving, “I take it Prince Charming left. Blood and guts aren’t his thing?”

“There are no guts,” I assured him, avoiding his point as I realized with some regret that Prince Charming was pretty much how I’d described Leo to him last night. “But yeah. He had to report back to his room.”

“Can’t say I blame him,” Cace admitted. “The sight of blood used to make me sick, too. Guess it’s lucky I can’t see it now. Although the smell isn’t much better.” He wrinkled his nose.

I stared speechlessly, and Cace must’ve guessed the reason for my silence.

“I wasn’t always blind,” he answered the question before I’d asked it. “It didn’t happen until I was older. Of course, I don’t remember how it happened, but I remember having sight.” His voice ebbed a moment before he went on, perhaps because he’d just used the word that everyone here dodged like a live grenade. “Then I guess there was an accident,” he said. “Now… I still have some vision, but it’s mostly shadows and light.”

“Really?” I turned to him. He lifted his eyes, and I wasn’t sure why, but suddenly I wanted to hide.

“I can’t see you,” he said, again answering a question I hadn’t yet voiced. “I can only see things that are… closer.”

“You seem to know the ship pretty well,” I mentioned.

Cace nodded. “Yeah. Well, most of it. I confess, delivering towels to your room was new for me. I was covering for a friend.” He winced. “Don’t tell.”

“More secrets,” I quipped, flicking my brow. “But you said you remember seeing before,” I invoked that forbidden word again. “What do you remember?”

“Stars,” Cace answered. “I miss seeing the stars.”

“I miss that, too,” I said.

“You’ll see them again someday,” Cace promised.

“Let me guess… ‘the end of the road’?”

“Exactly.” He looked vaguely thrilled to hear me quoting him. “And don’t pretend you don’t think about it, too. Your speech tonight gave you away.”

“Maybe,” I admitted. “So, do you remember anything else?”

Perhaps I was trawling to see if he remembered the Exitus like I did, or perhaps I just wanted to keep talking to him. His answer surprised me, though.

“I remember my father.”

“Your father?”

Cace nodded, a reminiscent glint in his eyes. “He’s tough to explain,” he said. “He had always been distant, wrapped up in his job. He worked in Altus for the government—for the Regna Primary, actually.” He grinned, implying the irony. “I never understood what he did, exactly, but whatever it was, he always told me that one day I would do it too, that I’d follow in his footsteps like he had followed in his father’s. Continue the legacy. He was convinced that one day, one of us would rule Eiena. But then”—the lines of his face tensed—“all that fell apart when I lost my sight. It wasn’t exactly part of the plan. I didn’t fit into his world anymore, so he shut me out of it. He worked longer days, came home less and less. Even when he was home, he barely spoke to me. Sometimes he’d disappear for weeks, even months at a time. Then, one day, he left and just… never came back. Then the quakes hit.”

“I’m sorry, Cace. I can’t imagine,” I said.

Cace shrugged. “It was a long time ago. Who remembers, right?”

He said it as though he didn’t remember more than most. Anyone else who had pieced together that much from the scattered shrapnel of memories that survived the scrub had gone mad and disappeared years ago.

“I wish I remembered that much about my life,” I admitted, tracing the scar above my right eye as I fought off flashes of that gruesome, final day on the ground.

I knew I couldn’t tell him about that. I had already told Cace a great deal that I was supposed to keep secret, but that was my secret. I swore I’d never tell anyone about it, not just for fear of being put away, but also because I never wanted to burden anyone who had the freedom of forgetting. Forgetting is a gift.

“So,” I changed the subject anxiously, “can I ask how old you are? You seem a little young to be in crew.”

“I’m nineteen,” he said. “You?”

“I turn eighteen on Sunday,” I answered absently. “Wait, you’re nineteen? Wouldn’t that make you only sixteen when you boarded?”

“Yeah,” Cace mumbled, perhaps wishing I hadn’t done that math.

“I thought everyone in crew had to be at least eighteen.”

“They did. I guess I was the exception.”

“Huh,” I murmured, contemplating how true that seemed to be. For one thing, Cace didn’t strike me as the type to bargain for his life while destruction reigned on the ground, as the story goes with everyone else in crew. He was just a kid when he boarded, not much older than me. Yet they let him on. They let him keep his necklace. They let him keep his name—which he remembered, among other things. Suddenly it occurred to me there might be more to Cace’s story than he let on.

“I don’t understand it either,” Cace interjected in my silence.

“What?”

“Why I’m here.”

My eyes leapt to his. The words were so familiar, and yet I’d never heard anyone else say them.

“W-well,” I fumbled, “to tell you the truth, I don’t know why I’m here either.”

Cace’s smile spread wider, as if I’d just said something very amusing. “Do you want to hear a secret?” he asked.

“Sure…” I hedged, flustered by that wry grin of his.

He leaned in close. “I don’t think any of us really have any idea what we’re doing here.”

I searched his features, trying to work out why those words sounded familiar. Then it clicked.

I had said them, when I thought he was asleep and couldn’t hear me.

I blushed, completely mortified. “You heard all that?”

Cace erupted with laughter. “I mean not all of it. I was under sedatives!”

“Eavesdropper.”

“I don’t think it counts as eavesdropping since you were talking to me.”

“Yeah, but you weren’t supposed to hear it,” I muttered. “I was only talking to you because…”

“Because why?” Cace challenged.

“I just didn’t want you to think you were… alone.”

Cace’s playful smile vanished, a more sincere one sliding in its place. “Well hey,” he said, “now you know you’re not alone either. There’s at least one person on this ship who’s just as lost as you.”

I gaped at him, too floored to find words. It was true. Cace was perhaps the only other person who knew as little about why he was here as I did.

“Do you want to see a picture of them?” Cace asked.

“Of… who?”

“My family.”

I furrowed my brow. “How?”

“Here.” He reached behind his neck, slowly and tremulously unlatching the gold pendant, revealing a ruddy, rectangular mark on his sternum.

“Cace, your chest,” I exclaimed.

Cace frowned, grazing the burn that must’ve been left when the baton made contact with the necklace.

“They should’ve removed it,” I muttered.

“Honestly, I’m glad they didn’t,” Cace said. “I’m not sure I would’ve gotten it back. I can trust you with it, though, right?” He held the pendant out to me by its chain.

“Yes,” I replied, taking it gingerly. I tilted it to the light, admiring the unique, geometric lines etched along the border, the intricate deco design that met in the center where the blue gem that so impeccably matched Cace’s eyes was set.

“You have to open it,” he instructed, catching a laugh.

“Oh.” I fiddled with the edges until something clicked and the back piece slid out.

And there, set inside the locket, was the tiniest picture I’d ever seen, so faded that I had to squint to make it out. A pretty woman in a white sweater with light-blue eyes and blonde hair stood next to a man in a dapper suit who was built much like Cace—tall, lean, broad-shouldered. He was smiling stiffly, as though it didn’t come to him easily. His eyes were a deep, vivid blue, like Cace’s. His hair was darker and slightly peppered, but still, it was an uncanny resemblance. The man and woman each had a hand on the shoulders of a young, fair-haired boy who stood before them, smiling at the camera. Cace.

The name, the necklace, now the picture. How is he getting all this past the Directive? I wondered as I gazed at the faded family portrait.

It was strange to think how different our lives were before this place. Cace was once a scion of nobility, while I was an orphan living in the Harena. Then the Exitus hit and everything got turned on its head.

“Why do you keep this, Cace?” I finally asked him.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I guess, even though I can’t see it anymore, it’s like I’m holding on to a piece of my life before everything changed.”

I wasn’t sure if he meant losing his sight or coming here and being scrubbed.

“You look happy,” I commented, smiling at the young boy. Then something caught my eye in the background of the photo. It was a small detail, blurry and obscured, but behind the three of them, a beam of sunlight touched down on a pair of glistening, golden gates. “I think I remember these,” I said. “These gates in the photo—they’re the ones outside of Altus, right?”

Cace nodded. “Sounds about right. My father worked inside those gates, and that picture was taken when he still thought I’d be joining him someday. How do you know them?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed, beholding them curiously. “I didn’t think I’d ever been outside of the Harena. Maybe I saw them in pictures, or…” My voice faded as I lifted my head and suddenly clocked a strange, zagging line through the center of the burn on Cace’s chest. I turned the locket over in my hand and saw the trinket responsible for the jagged mark. “What’s this key for?”

“Oh, that.” Cace’s tone implied that he didn’t mean for me to find it.

“Sorry, you don’t have to tell me.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to,” he said, “but I can’t really explain it. I might just have to show you someday, if that would be alright with you.”

I smiled. “Sure. Here.” I closed the locket and placed it in his hand. “You should keep that close. Not many of us have a piece of our past like that. Actually…” I amended, “I might. I’m not sure it counts though. I didn’t write it. I just remember it. Do you want to hear it?”

“Is it a song?” Cace’s face lit up. “Are you going to sing?”

“What? No.” The negation could not be communicated fast enough. “No, you don’t want to hear that—trust me. It’s a poem.”

“Oh.” He tried not to sound too disappointed as he refastened the keepsake around his neck.

“Wait right there,” I said, rising and crossing the room to my dresser.

“I’m not going anywhere.”

In the mirror’s reflection, I caught him spreading his arms across the sheets, and I smiled, thinking how, for the first time tonight, he didn’t appear to be in pain.

I pulled the dresser drawer open and rifled through it until I found the slip of paper tucked at the bottom. I unfolded the page scribbled with familiar words.

Truthfully, I didn’t need the paper anymore. I had the poem committed to memory… or recommitted. After I was scrubbed, fragments of it would drift through my mind every night before I fell asleep. Every time I remembered another piece, I would write it down and go over it again. By the time I finally had the poem down in its entirety, I could never forget it. Still, it comforted me to see the prose on the page. Of course, here, it had become merely another piece of my past that I kept hidden, buried at the bottom of a drawer.

Until tonight.

“Found it,” I said, returning to Cace’s side. Just as I held the tattered paper out in front of me and prepared to read it, though, a small voice warned me that perhaps this wasn’t a good idea. Then I looked up from the page and saw the anticipation in Cace’s eyes, and like that, the voice was vanquished.

I cleared my throat and began reciting the poem to him.

“‘Beware the bird you cage,

Though it may sleep for the night,

When dawn brings new light

It awakens, restlessness turned rage.

‘Beware the beast that beats its wings.

For it, the earth quivers and quakes,

The cage trembles and finally breaks,

And open the gilded door flings.

‘Beware this creature; into fire it will fly,

Never again to fear the ground,

Never again to be captive and bound.

It will find its freedom, or in trying, die.’”

Cace smiled once I’d finished reading. “What’s it called?” he asked.

“I can’t remember,” I confessed. “It was written by a prisoner of the Tsutrean War. I think it’s about finally finding a place where… you’re not held down by it anymore.”

“What?” Cace asked.

“The fear,” I answered reluctantly.

Cace gave a boastful grin. “See? You do think about the end of the road.”

“You got that from this?” I flicked the paper.

“Where did you hear it?” he asked. “From one of your guardians?”

I tried not to laugh. “No. I don’t think any of them read poetry. Even if they did… it’s not something they would’ve shared with me. My guardians and I… we never shared much except a roof. Sometimes not even that.”

“What do you mean?”

“According to my file, I was something of a runaway,” I told him. “I was always sneaking off.”

“Breaking out of your cage,” Cace put it another way. “Not unlike the bird in the poem.”

I smiled, before returning to my senses. “No,” I said stubbornly. “I just never felt like I belonged with any of them. No matter how many homes they moved me to, it never changed. I was always…”

“What?” Cace pressed in my silence, his voice soft, yet daring.

I winced, lifting my eyes to him. “Alone.”

The fragile word lingered in the air between us. I looked down at my palms, anxiously rubbing against my knees.

Cace’s hand slid hand forward, finding mine.

I watched my fingers knit into his, clasping tight. It felt strange at first, to hold his hand for no other reason than just to hold it this time. And then it felt like the most natural thing in the world.

“You don’t have to be alone, Aiza,” he said.

And that was all it took to silence the inexorable fears and unknowns that never seemed to stop actuating chaos in my mind. It all fell quiet as I settled next to him on the bed and laid my head on his shoulder. And though it went against all my better instincts, I let myself believe just for a moment in the end of the road he spoke of—a life outside the walls of this sepulchral ship, a night when we’d finally get to look up and see the stars again.

Neither of us spoke after that, but the silence was surprisingly pleasant. It was a shared silence, not vast and lonely like so many others I had endured in this room.

My eyes closed and I couldn’t seem to open them again. It didn’t seem fair that I should sleep when I knew Cace couldn’t, still in too much pain. Not to mention, I didn’t want him to see me threshing around when the nightmares came, and they always did.

What if he asks about them when I wake up? What will I tell him?

But sleep was a powerful, unconquerable force when it came, and I was rapidly losing the fight against it, especially once Cace slid his arm around me.

My eyes stayed shut as I pressed my cheek to his chest and listened to his soft, steady heartbeat. I didn’t know what to call it at first—the feeling that came over me as I drifted off to sleep in Cace’s arms. It felt as if tonight—just this one night—the nightmares couldn’t touch me.

I was safe with him. I was…

Home. That was it.

Somehow, after just two nights, Cace had become the closest thing to home I’d ever known.

For all the illusion of invincibility, sleep brought its usual litany of nightmares—the harrowing screams, the terrible bellow of buildings crumbling around me as I hurdled over heaps of wreckage, forever running from the disaster I could never seem to escape in the plane of my dreams.

A metallic clang scathed my ears. Crash! A cage burst open behind me. I turned to see dozens of dark-feathered birds swooping over my head, flocking to the drossy sky.

‘Beware the bird you cage,’ I recalled the line as I watched them vanish into the gray haze.

But where will you go?

Then suddenly the nightmare died away, and I found myself in a different dream entirely.

I was somewhere I’d never been before, a peaceful scene bathed in a misty, yellow light that seemed otherworldly—neither dawn nor dusk, nor anything in between. I was standing before a pair of golden gates—the ones from Cace’s picture, the entrance into Altus. They looked much grander in person, their towering, gilt trusses gleaming in the radiant sun.

I pulled something out of my pocket and raised it to the light, watching it glisten like the gates behind it. The coin. I still didn’t know what it was about the gold coin that made it so invaluable to me. I’d always remembered it… but never quite like this.

Then the dream transported me to another day, another time. I was younger, standing in that same courtyard outside the gates, but the splendorous yellow light was gone, the desert sun beating down on me in its place. Every muscle in my body ached. Sweat drenched my forehead. My lungs burned and my bones cried out for rest. I’d been on the run for days in the oppressive heat. My shoes and pants were filthy, caked in dust, but I was too busy beholding the brilliant sight of those golden gates to care. I’d traveled far and wide to get here, to finally see them in person.

I squinted against the mid-day glare, taking in the surreal spectacle of Altus—home to every wellborn man, woman, and child in Eiena. I only basked in the grandeur for a moment, though, before churlish voices started shooing me away.

“Be gone, girl,” they said. “There’s no begging in these parts.”

I wasn’t here to beg, but I didn’t have the energy to explain that, so I trudged over to a nearby building, seeking respite under its merciful shade. I slung my pack off, glad to finally be relieved of its weight, though it wasn’t much. I sank to my knees and glanced down at my dirty clothes against the sparkling pavement. I forced my tender, blistered hands open, my lips cracking as I winced. I rested my head against the cool brick and watched all the finely dressed dignitaries bustling around the courtyard. I was parched, but I knew the water flask in my pack was bone-dry. I’d drained the last drop hours ago.

I turned to the great marble fountain centered in the courtyard outside the gates, gallons of glistening water spilling out over the pristine polished stone. I whimpered longingly. I knew I should wait until the crowd cleared to venture over there, but I was too thirsty.

I traipsed toward the oasis, taking a seat on its marble lip. For a moment, I just stared at it, watching the shimmering streams flow down into the basin. It was almost as beautiful to me as the gates themselves. I didn’t waste another second. I stuck my face into the cold cascade, letting it run down my hair, my neck, my back. Then I opened my mouth and drank.

My thirst was nowhere near quenched when I was interrupted.

“You, there! Girl!”

I whipped my head around, my own wet hair slapping my cheek as a pair of Altus guards in spotless red and gold uniforms approached.

“Get away from there!” one of them ordered sternly.

I stood from the stone ledge and stepped back, wiping the dribble from my chin.

“Where are your parents?” the same one demanded.

“Where did you come from?” the other asked.

“By the looks of her, I’d say the Harena,” the first one muttered disparagingly.

The other shushed him. “Let her answer.” He kneeled in front of me, taking in the blisters on my cheeks, the filth of my clothes. Pity befell his expression. “Where are you from, dear?”

I hunched my shoulders timidly.

“If you can give us the name of your street, we’ll see to it that you get home safely,” he urged with a gentle inflection.

I shrugged again.

“Young lady, surely you can tell us where you live?” he implored once more, his patience quickly wearing away, but I remained stubbornly silent.

I knew where I lived, but I wasn’t about to be escorted back there by these two, or any of their martial friends. In my mind, that place was no longer home anyway. If I went back now, it would only be a matter of days before a shiny black car showed up to relocate me. Again.

“What are your parents’ names?” the second one interceded.

“Or guardians’,” the first added astutely.

I shrugged once more.

The kneeling guard heaved a sigh and stood. As the pair turned their backs to deliberate over what to do with me, I seized my chance to slink away. I snatched up my pack and dashed down the back alleys, finding a cozy dumpster to hide behind until evening fell.

I wasn’t sure what I’d do once the sun set. I’d left home with a plan to get to Altus and almost enough fare, but I’d had to walk the last few miles. Now I was out of money and provisions.

I couldn’t stay, clearly. I didn’t intend to. I just wanted to see it. I had always wanted to see Altus in person, but this was the first time I’d actually made it here. It was just as beautiful as I’d always imagined.

One day, I thought, I’ll find a way inside those golden gates. One day, I’ll make this place my home.

Eventually dusk settled, the gates swung open, and the courtyard became flooded with evening commuters all scrambling to get home to their sprawling, hillside mansions. I decided this was the best time to sneak out undetected. I still wasn’t sure what to do about my lack of funds, but I grabbed my pack anyway and hazarded into the crowd to sneak away under cover of the gloaming shadows—easier said than done. I ducked and darted through the mad scramble, narrowly avoiding being trampled.

But it was here, where I was nearly invisible and right at eye-level with some of the most lavish pockets and purses in the country, that I made my greatest discovery. I didn’t know what compelled me to do it—necessity, desperation, perhaps just opportunity. Whatever the reason, I began swiping from those padded pockets and purses—anything I could grab. I soon learned that anyone coming from inside those gates was carrying much more than small pocket-change, and it was all mine for the taking.

Before long, I’d collected more than enough to get home, but I wasn’t thinking about my trip back to the Harena anymore. For a moment, I wasn’t sure I’d ever go back there again. Then I remembered I didn’t have a choice. According to the state, I belonged there. The stolen riches lining my bag didn’t change that.

After an hour of picking pockets, once the homebound crowd had petered out, I dashed behind a nearby building with my plunder. It was dark when the guards closed the gates, leaving their posts to do one last patrol. I emerged cautiously into the empty, lamplit courtyard and sat at the fountain’s edge, slinging my pack off my shoulder. It was much heavier now, and it would be that much harder to lug home. It’ll be worth it though, I thought as I began sifting through my pilfered goods, feeling the same exultant rush as when I first stood before those gates. This is it, I told myself. This is how I’ll make it out of the Harena someday.

I paid close and careful attention to each treasure I examined in the dream, but I didn’t see the gold coin that had always stood out so prominently in my otherwise broken memory.

I funneled my bounty carefully back into the pack, then replenished my water flask at the fountain and capped it. Just when I was ready to make off into the night with my loot, however, I heard the clarion screech of the gates swinging open once more.

I gasped, clutching my bag to my chest as I strained beyond the glim of the lamps. A single figure emerged, crossing the courtyard with meek, nonthreatening movements. He’s just a kid, I realized.

The boy stopped in front of me, a mere silhouette in the lamplight.

“Anna?” he beckoned.

“What… what are you doing here?” I asked.

“I came for you.”

My alarm went off at 7:30 A.M. I held my arm out, but nothing happened.

I opened one eye and glanced at my wrist. Right. No tag.

I’d forgotten Thane had deactivated it last night.

I fumbled for the mute button and sat up sluggishly, still reeling from that… strange dream. Then I looked over and saw my other hand entwined in Cace’s.

I felt a brush of warmth, watching him sleep with a soft grasp on my hand, the other resting on his abdomen, rising and falling with each deep breath, his eyelashes fluttering gently, a hint of that invincible smile still clinging to his lips.

Suddenly, he awoke with a gasp. He shot up, then groaned, the pain dragging him back down onto the pillows.

I came around the bed and helped him up, placing one hand at his back. “Good morning,” I said faintly, the two of us standing very close now.

“Good morning.” He managed a smile, but it quickly morphed into a look of guilt. “I was here all night.”

“You weren’t in any condition to leave,” I pointed out.

“Still, I… I…” His voice attenuated, and suddenly he looked like he was going to pass out.

I braced myself against him as he lumbered forward, the whisper of his breath on my neck, his cheek pressed to mine. He lingered there a moment, steadying himself, then recanted just enough that I could see those bright-blue eyes lock onto mine.

He could see me, I realized. We were close enough now.

“Easy…” I said, barely loud enough to be heard.

A smile stole across his lips. I smiled too, blushing a little.

“Sorry,” Cace said, straightening himself. “I’m just… a little light-headed.”

“Hang on.” I stepped back, pausing to make sure he was stable before I left to fill a glass with water from the bathroom and dig out that shirt that had always been too big from my closet. “Here.” I returned and handed it to him. “This shirt should fit. Just, you know… to get you back to your floor.”

“Thanks.” He took it, his hands still trembling.

“I brought you some water.” I handed him the glass, which he accepted gratefully and guzzled down. “How much did you sleep?” I asked, still feeling bad for having nodded off.

“Enough,” he said, wiping his lips and feeling for the nightstand to set the empty glass on. “What about you? Did you sleep okay?”

“Yes…” I said suspiciously. “Why do you ask?”

“It’s just… you were tossing and turning a little.”

“Oh.” My cheeks flushed. “Sorry, did I wake you?”

“No,” he said, pushing my concern for him aside as he fiddled with the blue shirt. “You just sounded like you were having a bad dream. I was going to wake you, but then you seemed fine.”

“Yeah. Turns out I have good dreams too…” I trailed, reflecting on how real and vivid the one from last night felt—more memory than dream.

Cace grinned at my obvious befuddlement. “That doesn’t usually happen?”

“Not usually.”

“What was it about?”

I considered my answer carefully. For whatever reason, the inhibitions I had so easily abandoned in the deep hours of the night seemed to have found me again this morning. The rule still stood. Memories were forbidden, especially new ones.

“It was about the gates,” I said, omitting the inexpressible familiarity of the dream. “The Altus gates. Must’ve been because I saw them in your picture.”

“Ah,” Cace nodded, looking a bit on edge now. “Well… I should go. I’ll be late for my shift.”

“You’d think they’d give you a grace period,” I said rancorously.

He shot me a look. Yeah right, I translated.

I slid my hand into his. “I’ll walk you out.”

Cace’s stride was slow and stilted as we made our way to the door, the scars that scored his back still angry and red. How can they make you work like this? I wondered as I opened the door and scanned the hall. “Coast is… clear…” My voice faded as I turned to find Cace standing closer now, near enough that I could see the internal war raging behind his eyes.

He didn’t want to go. I didn’t want to let him. So we stood there, tarrying in my doorway, our hands interwoven, my heart beating wildly.

Then, slowly but fearlessly, Cace reached up, catching a wayward tendril of my hair and brushing it back as his thumb rested gently on my cheek. “I should go…” he said again.

“Don’t.” I squeezed his hand, drawing near enough to feel the warmth of his skin against mine. “Don’t leave.”

This moment felt more like a dream than the Altus gates, and I didn’t want to wake up. I wanted it to be real… for just a little longer. And so, to that end, I closed my eyes and closed what little space remained between my lips and his.

Cace kissed me in turn, his strong arms wrapping readily around me, his hands gliding across my shoulders and down my spine, as if searching for some curve of me he had yet to discover.

In that moment, nothing else mattered. Not Thane or the Directive. Not residents or crew members. Not rules or consequences. With my eyes shut and my lips against his, there was only us. Everything else just faded away.

“Please don’t leave,” I implored once more, the words just barely escaping my lips before they leapt for his again to communicate what words could not—this sudden, overwhelming feeling that I needed him with me—that even now, while we were as close as we could be and still pulling closer, I felt him slipping away.

When our lips parted, I shut my eyes and pressed my cheek to Cace’s chest, listening to his soft, steady heartbeat.

“I wish I could stay,” Cace whispered, my head nestled beneath his chin. “But…”

“I know,” I found myself saying back. Because I did.

As I stood in his arms, my fingertips hovered over one of the blisters on his back. This is a mistake, the thought pierced me.

It was all an accident, up until now. I brought him here last night because I couldn’t just leave him in that condition. I accidentally told him things I shouldn’t have. I accidentally fell asleep next to him. But that kiss was a choice—my choice—and if last night was a warning about what happened when rules were broken, I shuddered to think what Thane would do to Cace if he found out about this.

As if he’d read my thoughts, Cace stepped back, the empty space flooding between us as he pulled the shirt I’d given him over his head, slowly looping his arms through the sleeves.

The blue looked nice on him. It matched his eyes. But seeing him in it only reminded me that these colors were all that stood between us—arbitrary indicators of an echelon assigned to us by the Directive when we boarded.

Cace ran his fingers through his messy bronze hair, his gaze looming in my direction a moment longer before he uttered the words I’d been dreading, “Goodbye, Aiza.”

“Wait,” I blurted.

He paused, eyes landing somewhere between me and the floor.

“Will I see you again?” I asked.

He smiled. This time, his answer was different. “You will.”

And with that, he crossed the hall and disappeared.

There was no convincing myself that letting him go was the right thing or that it was better this way, but I knew why Cace and I could never be. It was for the same reason that Directive girl gazed at Sorrell in the Mess, day after day, perpetually pining for her from afar. None of us got to choose here. Residents were paired with residents. And I had already been paired with one.

Leo. Only now did he cross my mind since he’d left last night.

My stomach wrenched. There was a plan for me, and Cace was not a part of that plan. This has to stop, I reproached myself, turning back to my room. But just as I did, out of the corner of my eye, I saw movement at the end of the hall.

I whipped around just in time to see the lurking figure duck swiftly out of sight.

The spy I saw last night. Someone has been watching me.

My heart hammered in my chest. Whoever the spy was, they must’ve seen me and Leo bring Cace here last night… in our masks.

And now they had seen me without one… in my resident uniform… kissing a crew member.

Whoever the spy was, they had seen everything.

I searched the hall up and down, but found no sign of whoever had seen me with Cace. Eventually I gave up, returning to my room to get ready to go to breakfast. My inactive tag caused a minor snafu down at the Mess, but Kyla managed to clear it up with a confidential code. By the time we were meeting Tye in the gym, I’d forgotten all about the spy.

I ran lap after lap around the track, visions of that baton searing Cace’s back again and again propelling each step. By the end of the last mile, I was drenched in sweat, my chest burned, and still I was seething.

Seeing I was upset, Tye suggested his go-to stress reliever yet again—commandeering the shooting range. This time, I didn’t refuse.

There were, of course, strict rules about commander supervision when it came to residents in the range, and numerous measures of security that prohibited any weapon from ever leaving. But the Directive was adamant that we were all trained on how to shoot a gun at some point. I never really understood why. I didn’t want to imagine a scenario where that skill would be useful, since we’d be the only ones on the ground. Still, I didn’t mind knowing how to use one.

“Remember,” Tye said as he watched me line up my shot, “the most important thing is to⁠—”

“Focus. I know,” I said, releasing a quick exhale and pulling the trigger, nearly bull’s-eyeing it with a little dumb luck.

Tye grinned and adjusted his earmuffs, taking it as a challenge. He lifted his own gun and fired three quick rounds, each one hitting their mark flawlessly.

I knew I couldn’t beat him, but I shot the same number. They all landed in the blue. I dropped my arms and admitted defeat. “You win.”

“Don’t feel bad, kiddo. I never miss,” Tye gloated.

“And he’s so humble about it,” Kyla chided from the sidelines.

“Let’s see you give it a try,” Tye dared her.

Kyla cut him a fierce glower.

“Come on, you know you’re out of practice,” he goaded.

She threw her book down, rising to prove him wrong. “Give me that.” She seized his gun.

Tye’s gaze remained steadily fixed on her as she examined the weapon, the way it always did when she wasn’t looking, the way hers often did when he wasn’t looking.

Neither of them seemed to notice or care if I was looking.

Kyla grabbed a pair of muffs and put them on. “You mind?” she asked, ignoring Tye’s moon-eyed stare and nudging him out of her way as she aligned her shot. She pulled the trigger.

The bullet hit the white abyss outside the target. She shot another. Red zone—better. Finally, on the third try, she hit the bullseye. She then proceeded to shoot at every target in the room, hitting each mark with nearly unerring fidelity.

“You were saying?” she boasted, giving the empty gun a twirl.

“Easy there, hotshot,” Tye teased. “You’re starting to scare me. Can I have that back now?”

Kyla plopped the gun in his palm with a proud simper. Tye shook his head, still brandishing a smile as he watched her strut back to the bench.

I snatched my gun up, refusing to be the worst aim in the room. I fired five times, imagining Thane’s face plastered to each target.

Four out of five was at least a little more satisfying.

I set the weapon down, blowing away the hair that had fallen from my braid, still irked by the holes in the blue where my first rounds had hit. Shooting was supposed to help me blow off steam, but if I was a kettle, I was still screaming to be let off the burner.

“Alright, now you’re both scaring me,” Tye snarked. “We might have to reassign you to Command, kiddo.” He gave my shoulder a light punch.

I took the sweaty towel I still had slung over my shoulder from the track and smacked him with it. “Maybe you could just quit failing me instead.”

“Hey”—Tye snatched the towel and pointed at me—“I’ve told you before, your training stats are not the problem with your score. Not anymore.”

“Alright you two,” Kyla interjected. “If I go hit the ladies’, will you promise not to kill each other while I’m gone?”

“No promises,” Tye remarked.

Kyla rolled her eyes and left.

“Here.” Tye tossed the towel back to me. “Get this nasty thing away from me.”

I caught it in my hand and froze, reminded of the towels Cace had brought to my room the other night—the ones that became stained in his blood the next.

“Hey,” Tye said, sensing something was still bothering me, “talk to me, kiddo. What’s up, really? What’s with all the silent rage today?”

“I…” I didn’t know where to start. “I didn’t mean for it to happen, Tye. All I did was not say the words Thane wrote for me, and he…” My voice ebbed as I worked the towel between my fingers, wiping away some of the dark residue.

“He what?” Tye’s tone was already caustic as he began to grasp that we were talking about more than just what he’d witnessed before Thane cleared out the ballroom last night.

As a commander who had once served on Thane’s A-team, Tye was privy to the sadistic means of correction Thane employed behind closed doors. He walked away from all that long ago, always taking demotions and penalties for refusing to do things the Directive’s way, which was how he wound up training defective residents like me.

“Aiza, what did Thane do to you?” he urged.

I shook my head. “That’s just it, Tye. He didn’t do anything to me. He had a crew member shock-lashed last night… in front of me.” Tears came dangerously close to spilling as the memory came rushing back—the sharp crackle of electricity, Cace’s agonizing cries, the burning mix of rage and powerlessness that I carried with me out of that room. I blinked the tears away quickly, before Tye saw, and went to sit on the bench. “It was the boy who tackled the commander detaining me,” I said, wringing the towel in my hands. “Did you see him?”

Tye came and sat beside me. “They sent us out so fast, it was hard to tell what was happening up there,” he said. “Do you know him?”

“Not really. He just brought towels to my room the other night.”

“And?” Tye pressed.

“And we talked.” I smiled, feeling a bittersweet burn in my throat. “It was nice. But then last night, when I was on that stage, I looked out and saw him there, and I just couldn’t bring myself to say the things Thane wanted me to, not while he was listening. So I gave my own speech, and the next thing I knew… I was watching them do that to him.”

“I’m sure he’ll be okay,” Tye tried to console.

“I brought him to my room afterwards,” I blurted the confession. I knew Tye wouldn’t hesitate to remind me how much trouble such an act could land me in, but I had to tell someone, and at least I could trust him not to report me.

“Aiza,” he began to warn, “you can’t⁠—”

“I had to help him, Tye!” I snapped. “He was hurt and it was because of me! And when it was over, those commanders just left him there on the ground, barely breathing! Leo and I were the only ones who⁠—”

“Leo?” Tye cut in.

I felt my face flush. “Ileon,” I corrected.

“He saw this too?” Tye asked.

“Yes.” Up to that part. “He’s the one who helped me bring Cace to my room.”

“Cace, huh?” Tye tilted his chin.

I sighed, hugging my knee to my chest as I pictured those smiling, blue eyes. “Tye, how can I stand in front of all those people again and pretend to be a leader when I can’t even stop things like that from happening? Who knows what else Thane’s done that we’ll have to answer for? What if the rumors are true? What if he executed all those passengers who disappeared in the beginning?” I looked at him. “What do I do?”

Tye dithered for a moment. I could tell he wanted to offer me the words of wisdom I sought that would fix this, but all he said was, “I think for now, you just have to do what Thane asks.”

I frowned. That was the same advice Kyla had given me. Between the two of them, I was really hoping for a different answer.

As we sat in silence, I wrung the towel in my hands and began to identify the dangerous desire that had been budding within me since last night.

“I want to find a way to take Thane’s power.” The words flew out before I could catch them.

“Aiza.” Tye glanced around to make sure no one had heard. “You can’t say things like that here.”

“Why?” I turned to him. “Thane made me a Primary, right?” I wasn’t sure why I said it. Tye and I both knew there was no real power in the title. It was just the part I was cast to play.

“He hasn’t actually crowned you yet,” Tye reminded me. “You were wearing a mask last night. There’s a reason for that, and it wasn’t for your protection, no matter what Thane told you.”

“How do you know?”

“Because before I was banished to that gym, I spent my fair share of time on the top floor. I know how Thane operates. You can’t take his power. Trust me.”

“He’s right,” Kyla’s voice startled me. I turned to find her leaning against the wall behind us and I slumped, realizing I’d just been outnumbered.

“This is Thane’s world,” she said, “and you’re just here to play your part in it… for as long as he needs you. And there will come a time when he won’t anymore, so I’d be more careful about what I say if I were you. Seriously, Aiza, Thane is the one person I can’t protect you from.”

Her eyes darted over to Tye. He met her surreptitious gaze briefly.

“Just please be careful, kiddo,” he said to me. “Remember, Thane answers to no one. He just wants his world standing and most of us alive to fill it when this is all over. That’s all he cares about. Believe me, Thane is not someone you want to underestimate. He’ll do whatever it takes to see his outcome and he will eliminate anyone who gets in his way.”

He looked to Kyla, and again their eyes did a strange dance.

“So,” I interrupted the furtive looks being traded over my head, “to be clear, you’re both saying I should just do whatever Thane tells me to?”

“For now,” Tye said. “We just don’t want to see you get hurt.”

“Which you will,” Kyla cautioned with a much less placating pitch, “if you’re not careful. If you’re not smart.”

I sighed. Maybe they were right.

I wanted to make Thane answer for what he’d done to Cace, but maybe the only way to do that was to play along for now. Maybe if I could bide my time, play my part convincingly, then eventually I could get to the bottom of whatever problem had possessed Thane to put me up there in the first place. I could find a way to expose his lies and misdeeds, to fight for a future on the ground not dictated by the Directive. I could use my false position to enact real change.

Kyla and I didn’t talk much at lunch. I was still mulling over Tye’s words of warning, and she probably didn’t want to say anything to rekindle the matter. But that changed when we were wandering back to my room and came across a pair of commanders flaunting nasty grins.

“Hey Kyla, having fun babysitting?” one of them sneered.

“More fun than you, Dex,” she retorted. “When’s the last time you hit the range?”

“You were at the shooting range?” Dex belied.

“Yeah, I thought you didn’t step foot in that place.” His friend snickered. “You know the range is where they keep the guns, right?”

“Idiots,” Kyla grumbled as she brushed past them.

“See you around, Commander.” Dex gave a mocking salute.

I ran after Kyla. “What was⁠—”

“Don’t,” she snipped. “Sometimes I really hate this place.” We turned a corner and suddenly she whirled around, grabbing me by the shoulders. “Listen,” she said, “I know you want out of this mess, and I don’t blame you. But you should listen to Tye, Aiza. He’s right. If you cross Thane, he will find a way to make you regret it.” The intensity of her expression lessened only slightly as she released me. “If you won’t listen to me, listen to Tye. He knows what he’s talking about. Thane is not someone you want to underestimate.”

“What does that mean?” I asked, recalling the covert looks they’d exchanged earlier. “Kyla, how do you and Tye know each other, really? I know you didn’t meet the day I started training with him. I’ve been watching the way you look at him for a year now. And I see how he looks at you, too. Tell me the truth.”

“Drop it, Aiza,” Kyla warned, slapping the button for the elevator. “There’s too much you don’t know.”

I scoffed. “I’ve been getting that a lot lately.”

“Look, we had a thing a long time ago, but it’s over now,” she uttered as quickly and placidly as possible. “It was over almost as soon as it started. Happy?”

Almost, I thought as the elevator doors chimed open. “What happened?”

“Let’s just say something happened to Tye,” she hinted as we shuffled inside, “and I couldn’t be there for him.”

“What happened?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Been getting that, too,” I muttered.

Kyla shot me a harsh glare. “This is different, Aiza. It’s not my story to tell. And it has nothing to do with you.”

“But it has to do with you.” It was more an observation than a question.

“You could say that,” Kyla admitted, facing the floor. When she lifted her eyes again, I was surprised to see they were pink, gleaming. “Tye had a brother,” she finally said. “His name was Lucas. He was a little younger than me and Tye. He was twenty when he boarded the ship.”

“Wait”—I regarded her skeptically—“Tye has a brother here?”

“I said ‘had.’”

“Oh,” I murmured faintly, understanding now why she was so disinclined to talk about it, and why Tye had never mentioned a brother before.

“Lucas was in Command with us,” Kyla explained. “He was good, like Tye. And smart—too smart for his own good.” A sentimental smile crossed her lips. “The three of us were pretty inseparable in the beginning.”

“So… what happened to him?” I asked diffidently.

“Thane had him executed,” she answered. “Almost three years ago.”

I stared at her. “He k-killed him?” The word struggled on my tongue. “Are you sure?”

Kyla laughed—a joyless, demeaning laugh that made me feel instantly, cosmically stupid for ever having believed Thane when he assured me that he’d never killed anyone. “I know everyone thinks it’s just a rumor that the Directive killed all those passengers who disappeared,” she said. “But it’s not. At least… not entirely.”

“What…” I wasn’t sure how to ask this. “What did he do?”

Kyla’s jaw tensed. “It was what he didn’t do. What he refused to do. He’d been insubordinate since day one, raising questions about the way things were… handled around here. He stirred up a lot of insurgence among the other commanders, picked a lot of losing fights with the Directive. Tye kept trying to convince Lucas that our job wasn’t so bad, that eventually people would get the picture and we wouldn’t have to be so extreme. But Lucas wouldn’t listen.” Her voice grew hollow as she fought back tears. “He was just too stubborn… too decent to be one of us. He was the only one who never let this place turn him into something he wasn’t.”

There was a long turn of silence before she spoke again. “It was just over a year after we’d left the ground,” she said. “Thane gave Lucas a direct order, and he refused it in front of everyone. So Thane had him locked up. Months went by and we didn’t see him. Tye was worried sick. We didn’t understand it back then… that some of the ones who disappeared were never coming back. Thane was… weeding us out.”

I turned to her, eyes wide, but Kyla wasn’t looking at me. She was lost in a constellation of distant memories. “One day, Tye couldn’t take it anymore,” she explained. “He’d heard all the whispers about the executions, so he finally confronted Thane about them.”

“And Thane confessed to killing his brother?”

“He told Tye that he died,” Kyla answered. “He didn’t say how, but he didn’t have to. Thane had threatened Lucas before. He told him once, in front of all of us, that if he didn’t learn to comply with his role here, he wouldn’t have one in the New World at all.”

I frowned, contemplating how incompliant I’d been with my role. “Why hasn’t Tye told anyone about this?” I asked. “People should know.”

“People do know,” Kyla returned. “Everyone’s heard the stories. Most of them just don’t want to believe that the people who hold our lives in their hands could be so… unsparing.”

I felt my gut sink with shame. All those times she and I had stood together in line in the Mess, listening to those garrulous stories circulate about what the Directive did with the ones who went missing, I’d always dismissed them so easily. I couldn’t believe the Directive was needlessly killing people just because they didn’t comply with their rules. But all that time, Kyla knew the truth of those allegations. She and Tye both knew what Thane was capable of.

“Tye lost it for a while after that,” Kyla went on. “I tried to get him to talk about it, to leave his room or eat or do something, but he wouldn’t. I wanted to help him, but… I had a job to do, and the Directive never let me forget it. Sometimes I’d go see him after a shift, and I’d find him just staring at the wall, in such a daze, he didn’t even see me. Sometimes he was talking to the wall. He was spiraling, and I didn’t know what to do. I was so afraid that I was going to lose him too. I didn’t realize then that, in a way, I already had.”

Honestly, I couldn’t imagine Tye falling apart like that, but it would explain why he seemed so different from the fearless soldier who came bursting through my door on the day of the Exitus to save me. It turned out, a lot had happened since that day.

“You can’t tell him I told you any of this,” Kyla implored. “Thane may have made our lives before this a blank page, but this happened after the scrub, and Tye still remembers it like it was yesterday. Since then, he hasn’t been so willing to do Thane’s dirty work. Neither have I,” she admitted, facing away. “And now here we are. He’s a trainer. I’m a babysitter.”

“Hey Kyla, having fun babysitting?” I recalled those commanders’ jibing remarks from before. “You know the range is where they keep the guns, right?”

I knew Kyla was notorious for getting relegated to the lowliest detail in Command. I just didn’t understand why, until now. Not because of any one thing she did, but because she, too, refused to let Thane turn her into something she wasn’t.

“Kyla, aren’t you worried that you and Tye might…?”

“What, end up like Lucas?”

I nodded, grateful that she finished the thought for me, as the elevator halted and the doors swept open. I recognized the oscillating strains of Paganini’s Cantabile as we stepped off.

“If Thane was going to kill either of us, he would’ve done it by now,” she said with a shrug. “No one really seems to be disappearing anymore. He’s keeping as many of us alive as he can, now. That’s why they all went missing in the beginning. He likes to make examples of people, like your friend last night.” She shot me a side-eyed glance.

I guess she heard that, too.

I shut my eyes, floored once again by my own unrelenting stupidity. While Tye was listening to me carry on about what they did to Cace, all he must’ve been thinking was how much more he’d lost for the sake of example. At least Cace lived.

“He just wants his world standing and most of us alive to fill it when this is all over,” Tye said.

Most. I shuddered, remembering Thane’s warning the day after he revealed his grand plan for me. “Mistakes disappear. There are no mistakes on the Aureate—not you or anyone else here.”

Anyone still alive, I thought gravely, wondering just how much the census had dropped from the original 20,001.

Suddenly I was feeling much less compelled to challenge Thane. Just because no one had disappeared recently didn’t mean someone couldn’t. And, as Tye pointed out, I wore a mask. That made me replaceable, not protected. As much as I didn’t want this role, it was better than having none at all, becoming expendable.

Then another daunting thought struck me.

If Thane ever found out I kissed Cace… how expendable was he? Lucas was a commander, and he still got weeded out, as Kyla put it. What would Thane do to a crew member who kissed a Primary?

“Kyla, how could you and Tye not tell me about this?” I asked.

“Look,” she said, “what happened to Lucas, it wasn’t all that long ago. It’s still not easy to talk about.” She looked ahead, eradicating some of the grief from her expression. “For Tye. So he and I… we don’t talk about it, or about anything anymore.”

“Tye seems to be doing okay now,” I said, but it was more a question than an observation.

Kyla nodded. “He pulled it together eventually. But things have never been the same with us. He really scared me,” she admitted quietly, like she didn’t want me to hear. “Anyway, that’s what happened. For two years, he and I didn’t speak. Then one day, you and I walk into that gym… and there’s your new trainer. Now we’re back in each other’s lives, and it’s…”

I had to stop myself guessing the end to that sentence. Weird? Wonderful? Painful?

“Unfair,” was the word she settled on.

I nodded. The whole thing was wildly unfair. Tye’s brother survived the Exitus, only to be sacrificed for the sake of setting an example to the other commanders, which drove an unbridgeable rift between Tye and Kyla in the years to follow.

Unfair was a good word for a lot of what went on around here.

“You look like you’re doing well,” I remembered Kyla saying to Tye the day she and I wandered into the gym to meet my new trainer, except neither of us was really meeting him for the first time.

“Yeah,” Tye had said, “I’ve been doing better.”

A year later, I finally understood the meaning of that exchange.

I’d fallen a few steps behind. Admittedly, I wasn’t prepared to hear any of that. Maybe if I’d paid better attention through the years, I would’ve recognized that something had happened to make Kyla despise this place, and Thane, so deeply. “I’m having a hard enough time not wringing Thane’s neck,” she’d said the other day. “Thane is the one person I can’t protect you from,” she’d said just now, at the range.

Suddenly those comments didn’t seem so arbitrary.

Maybe all these years… Kyla had feared Thane even more than I had, with good reason.

She glanced back and gave another curt snicker. “I told you, Thane makes it seem impossible, but there’s always a choice.”

I’d heard her say it before, but I hadn’t fully comprehended what she’d meant until now.

The choice I had to make now was the same one Lucas made then—to spend my life playing a part, conforming to Thane’s tenuous plan, or refuse and risk losing it altogether.

I grimaced. Staying alive was one thing we weren’t supposed to have to worry about up here.

“Just remember to wait until you have all the pieces,” Kyla reminded me.

Kyla and I turned the corner to my room and stopped in our tracks when we saw two massive commanders standing on either side of my door.

“Rowan?” Kyla boldly accosted the bigger of the two. “What is this?” She pointed to the weapon in his holster. “What’s with the stun guns? Did Thane put you up to this?”

“Just following orders, Commander.” Rowan’s deep tone befit his intimidating physique. “Making sure no unauthorized personnel comes in”—he shot a threatening glare at me—“or out of this room.”

“The Chancellor wants to see you in an hour,” the other added, then lowered at Kyla. “We’ll take her. You’re dismissed, Commander.”

I was still so rattled from hearing about Tye’s brother that I didn’t put it together until Kyla had left and I was about to jump into the shower. The guards at my door were not merely a precaution. Thane knew Cace had been here. Maybe he tracked his tag, or maybe that spy I saw this morning was already spreading rumors about me and Thane caught wind of it. Maybe the spy was sent by Thane. Whatever the case, I knew we were in trouble, and I did not want to be the reason Cace got hurt again—or worse, considering what I’d just learned.

I can still fix this, I told myself as I dressed and followed the commanders up to Thane’s office, doing my best to conjure a convincing apology. The problem was, I wasn’t sorry for bringing Cace to my room after what they did to him. And I wasn’t sure I could walk into that office, look into the eyes of the man who gave the order, and beg forgiveness for cleaning up the bloody mess when it was over. I wasn’t sorry. I was furious.

“He will eliminate anyone who gets in his way,” Tye’s warnings buzzed discordantly in my head. “You were wearing a mask… and it wasn’t for your protection…”

The mask made me disposable, like all the others who had defied Thane in the past. I knew that now.

Still, Cace’s cries from last night continued to play in my head.

“I hoped this next world would be better.”

So did I.

“Wait until you have all the pieces,” Kyla’s last morsel of advice kept me in check as I approached those gold-lettered glass doors. My heart thrashed in my chest as they opened to reveal Thane, already waiting for me, bony fingers folded atop his desk.

“Aiza,” his cold voice creaked as I entered. “Good afternoon. Please, have a seat.” He motioned to the chair across from him.

“Mozart,” I named the composer of the song playing as I complied. It was the only thing I felt I could say without risking implosion.

Thane nodded. “Very good. Piano Sonata Number 12. How is your shoulder?”

I froze at the edge of the seat I’d just landed in. “What?”

“Your shoulder.” Thane pointed to it. “I was worried it might’ve been strained during yesterday’s excitement. If it’s bothering you, I can call down to Med, perhaps get you something for the pain.”

“For the…” I shook my head, so enraged by every word he’d just said, it felt as if my brain was shorting out. “My shoulder is fine. What is this about?” I asked impatiently.

I was a time bomb now, ticking away the seconds before I went off. While I was yet on the verge of detonation, Thane cut the music and rose from his chair, pacing the floor in the fresh silence. “Aiza, let me ask you a question,” he opened. “Is it true that I not only saved your life the day I rescued you from those quakes, but also saved you from a neglectful welfare system and gave you a life beyond any you could’ve hoped for in the Harena?”

Already, I despised this line of questioning. “You did save my life,” I muttered.

“So you understand”—Thane’s silver eyes pierced into mine—“you owe your life to me—a debt for which I’ve made more than generous allowances. But this recent behavior is inexcusable. What is this I hear about a boy from crew seen coming out of your room this morning?”

I bided my silence, waiting for the other shoe to drop before I answered.

“And as I understand it,” Thane went ahead and dropped it, “you did more than just lend him a shirt and send him on his way.”

There. He knew about the kiss.

“S-someone saw us?” I stammered.

Thane nodded, and I could tell by the condemning way he leered at me, it was not one of his spies. It was not someone who was ever supposed to know who I was.

Thane waited, allowing the catastrophe of the situation to resonate before continuing. “Now, luckily for you, I’ve managed to rectify this little indiscretion of yours—this time. I’ve negotiated the terms of our source’s silence.”

I breathed, feeling a weight lifted. You could’ve led with that.

“You were fortunate—this time,” Thane repeated. “But this must never be allowed to happen again, or people might talk.”

“People do talk about me,” I reminded him. “They’ve been talking about me for three and a half years because you forged my score to make me a resident.”

“Yes,” Thane acknowledged. “I concede that giving you such a score… lacked forethought. But you didn’t have to let it plummet.”

“I had no idea what I was doing here! You never told me!” I argued in my defense.

Stay calm, I reminded myself. Remember Lucas.

“What about Leo?” I ventured to ask. “Where has he been all these years? Because I’m not the only resident who’s never seen him before a few days ago. And when someone turns up, out of nowhere, on a ship that’s been in the sky for over three years, people talk about that too.”

“Don’t change the subject. We aren’t talking about Ileon right now.” Thane scowled, highlighting my slipup. “We are talking about you and that crew boy”—his face puckered, as if speaking the term put a vile taste in his mouth—“and what a disaster this could’ve been if I hadn’t stopped it in its tracks. We are talking about your blatant disregard for the rules of this institution! That boy is in crew, and you are about to be crowned Primary! Both of you need to learn your place, and his is not convalescing in your room for an entire night!”

“What would you have had me do?” I countered brazenly. “He was barely breathing! He needed help! I should’ve taken him straight to Med, then your entire staff would’ve seen what you had your commanders do to him!”

“What I had them do?” Thane feigned indignation.

“You didn’t need to be there for us to know who those orders came from,” I chided.

“I am still the only reason either of you is alive!” Thane reminded me. “You’d both do well to remember that.”

I gave you your life. I can take it away, I heard the unspoken threat in his words.

“As for Leo,” he continued, not bothering using his alias this time, “let’s just hope his loyalty to you exceeds yours to him.”

I felt my heart skip a beat as he glared at me. Did Leo know about the kiss? Did Thane tell him? Or worse, was he the one who told Thane?

“Who saw us?” I asked outright.

“I’ll give you a hint,” Thane said. “Her suite is right next door to yours.”

“Sorrell.”

In a way, this was worse. Leo at least would’ve had a reason not to say anything. If Sorrell knew I was the one behind the mask and about Cace, the secret—or secrets—would be out in no time. I wouldn’t be surprised if the entire ship knew by dinner tonight.

“How do you know she hasn’t told anyone?” I asked.

“Because she came to me first.”

I raised a brow, unable to think of a single reason why Sorrell would go to him before telling every other living soul. “How do you know she’ll stay quiet?”

“Let’s just say, I have something of importance to her, something she’ll want back one day. And I’ve made it abundantly clear that if she ever utters a word to anyone, she’ll never see it again.”

I regarded him cagily, finding it hard to believe he could be harboring anything significant enough to keep Sorrell from spilling a secret like this. “But how will you know?” I repeated.

“Because of the bug,” Thane answered, as if I should know what that meant. “It’s a listening device,” he explained. “It picks up proximate audio and transmits it to⁠—”

“I know what a bug is,” I cut him off. “So what, you planted one in her room?”

Thane shook his head. “On her person,” he said shrewdly.

I cringed.

“From now on, she’ll be under the Arc’s surveillance,” Thane said. “Every conversation, every hour of every day, the Arc will be listening, and it will alert us if she’s sharing any privileged information. Believe me, she doesn’t want to be caught giving away your secret any more than we want her to.”

“This isn’t my secret,” I reminded him.

“Really?” Thane’s brow shot up snidely. “And if Leo were to learn of your behavior this morning?”

I clenched my jaw.

“Remember, Aiza”—Thane dropped his chin, eyes not deviating from mine—“it will not be so easy to keep the next person quiet. So this had better be the last time you and I have this conversation, or I will be forced to deal with that crew boy in much more severe measures. Understood?” He leaned over the desk, lucent eyes slicing right through me.

“Yes.” I narrowed mine. “Mistakes disappear, right?”

Thane furrowed his brow, as though he didn’t recognize the words as his own.

“But they didn’t just mysteriously disappear, did they?” I pried, fed up with this game of reading each other’s insinuating looks, dancing around what we both knew. “All those people who went missing in the beginning… you killed them.”

Thane’s eyes widened for a split-second before he recovered a level countenance. I wasn’t sure if it was because of what I did last night, putting down those cards and speaking freely in front of the entire ship, but Thane looked at me differently now, almost like he was afraid of me, or… of what I was going to tell them next.

“Careful, Aiza,” he warned. “You don’t know what you’re speaking of.”

“But I do,” I said, savoring this unprecedented moment where Thane stood in fear of me for once. “You killed them all, just like you killed Lucas.”

Thane’s face paled with guilt.

“You executed him, didn’t you?” I demanded. “You executed everyone who didn’t conform to your rules in the beginning.”

“I didn’t execute anyone,” Thane denied fervently, but his voice foundered.

“So then Lucas is alive?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“So he just accidentally dropped dead after refusing your orders?”

“Stop this, Aiza!” Thane scolded.

“Tell me the truth,” I insisted. “Are any of them alive?”

“I am telling the truth! Lucas is gone! I would bring him back if I could!” The fire in Thane’s voice died suddenly. “I would bring them all back…”

“What do you mean he’s gone?” I emphasized the critical word.

Thane’s gray eyes flitted to mine, but he remained tight-lipped.

“Is this why Leo and I are being crowned?” I asked. “So you can blame us for the deaths of those who didn’t conform to your plan, or who lost their minds after you scrubbed them?”

“I said stop this!” Thane entreated in a charged whisper, slamming his hand down on the desk as his silver eyes flashed over my shoulder, out into the lobby with that strange, paranoid look again, as if he was afraid someone out there might be listening to us.

I peered over my shoulder, but again, I didn’t see anyone.

“Why am I here, Thane?” I turned back to him. “Tell me the truth.”

Thane sighed, standing as straight as he could manage. “Crowning you and Leo is not about mistakes made in the past,” he said. “It’s not so simple as that. It’s about what’s coming.”

“What’s coming?” I struggled to hold my voice steady.

“You’ll see.” Thane’s cold, colorless stare retreated somewhere far away. “Very soon. Now”—he blinked, meeting my eyes again—“are we clear on this? If I ever catch you with that crew boy again, I will have no other recourse but to see that he spends the rest of his days on this ship in a cell.”

I nodded, not wanting to make matters worse for Cace. Still, my stomach churned as I came to the disconcerting realization that Thane was no longer denying that Leo and I were here to atone for something—some unknown blunder, the repercussions of which were yet to be revealed.

They would be soon, though. Very soon.

Wait until you have all the pieces, I reminded myself.

I left Thane’s office restless. I’d never felt so trapped within the walls of this ship. I wanted out, to feel the warmth of the sun, to fill my lungs with fresh air. To see the stars again.

I heard what Thane said—what he threatened to do to Cace if I was ever caught with him again. But I also knew I couldn’t just shut Cace out forever without an explanation. That was what his father had done, and he deserved better.

After dinner, I shuttered myself in my room, employing every tactic I could think of to keep myself from going to Cace. I sat on my hands at the edge of my bed, my fingers curling around the sheets as the minutes went by. After an hour of sitting like a statue in that vast, quiet room, I looked down at my hands tucked under my legs and suddenly noticed something.

I freed my arms, tapping my wrist where my tag should be.

Then I remembered. It was still deactivated. I was still off the grid, invisible to the Arc.

I realized I had an opportunity—one I might never have again. I could go down to the crew floors, find Cace, and tell him I’d been warned off. Thane would never have to know. I could say goodbye and that would be the end of it. I would come back up here, play my part, and Cace wouldn’t become the next passenger to disappear. I just had to see him one last time.

I left my room, notifying the guards at my door that I needed to go to Med to get something for my shoulder. I figured that story would at least check out if they ran it by Thane. I entered the elevator and pressed the button for the nearest crew floor, my heart thumping as the doors closed.

When they pulled open again, I stepped out reticently, waiting for the alarms. But none sounded. I was a ghost, roaming the ship undetected. My heart beat even louder. I wasn’t sure if that was because I was sneaking around a floor I wasn’t supposed to be on, or because of what I had to tell Cace when I found him. Probably both. At least I’d get to see him. I tried to focus on that as I navigated the strange territory.

The halls were different down here, the lighting more abrasive, highlighting the thinly whitewashed walls with unsightly steel beams jutting out. I found myself collecting alienating looks from every crew member I passed. I resisted the urge to face the floor, keeping my eyes peeled for a head of unkempt bronze hair. The deeper I ventured, though, the more lost I became. Identical halls intersected in the most disorienting way, occasionally opening up to huge, concrete-floored rooms with rows of bunk beds in the center and gray lockers lining the walls.

I peered inside one of these rooms and found it bustling with crew boys—some coming out of the showers in clouds of white steam, others already sleeping with masks over their eyes, and some hurrying to get ready for graveyard shifts. I think I finally understood what Cace meant when he said residents have busy lives too.

Still, I wasn’t exactly lost in the frenzy. A host of disparaging glares found me standing awkwardly in the doorway.

“You must be lost, Rez,” one crew member chided as he strode past.

Coming here was a mistake. What was I thinking? Tag or not, I had no idea where to even begin to look for Cace. I didn’t even know if he was on this floor. I would just have to wait until the next time I passed him up above to pull him aside and try to explain why I never spoke to him after last night. But how long would that take? Would there be anything I could even say at that point? No doubt Thane would see to it that I never got the chance.

I turned around, aborting this terrible plan. But just as I began backtracking through the halls, I heard someone call my name… loudly.

“Aiza?”

I halted, turning slowly as crew members shoved past me. “Cace,” I answered, making my way to him through the crowd. The moment I was close enough to look into those blue eyes, I forgot every reason I had not to be here.

“Hi,” he greeted me with an easy smile, as though we were not two near-strangers who weren’t supposed to be seen together, but rather old souls who had known each other a long time, and he was simply happy I was here.

“Hi.” I tried to emulate my own elation to see him within the single word.

Cace’s smile shifted. “What are you doing here?” he asked.

“I… need to talk to you. How did you know I was…?”

“I, uh, heard some people talking in the halls. You know, for someone trying to lay low, you’re not being very subtle.” His mouth twisted into a teasing smile, then warped into a wince.

I looked down and noticed his white and gray uniform all scuffed up. My expression hardened. “They really have you back to work already?”

Cace shrugged. “What’d you expect?”

Suddenly, a herd of crew members came spilling out of one of the barracks, inundating the hall with their commotion. Cace tilted his head, motioning for me to follow him someplace more private.

The room he led me to was empty, though not much quieter, the low hum of a few dozen laundry machines surrounding us. There were maybe thirty canvas hampers huddled in the center of the large room, some piled with dirty towels waiting to be washed, others with clean ones waiting to go out.

“So this is where you spend your days,” I said, breathing in the thick scent of detergent.

“Glamorous, isn’t it?” Cace raised his brow derisively.

I laughed. I knew I should just say what I came to say and leave, but as the silence dragged on, tempered only by the soft whir of the machines, I found there was nothing I had ever dreaded saying more.

“Cace,” I began, “the reason I⁠—”

Beeeeep! One of the machines blared, cutting me off.

“Sorry, hold that thought,” Cace said, ambling over to it. He opened the door and scooped out a heap of damp towels, his face contorting from the pain.

“Here”—I rushed over—“let me take these.”

“This isn’t a Primary’s job…” Cace tried to object.

I shook my head, taking the pile from him. “I don’t want to be a Primary today. You want to show me where these go?”

“Over here.” He crossed stiffly to the wall of dryers, feeling for one not in use and opening the door. Once I tossed the towels in, he shut it and turned to me with a pert smile. “So”—he folded his arms, leaning on one shoulder against the wall of machines—“how’d you get down here? Isn’t Thane going to catch you?”

“I hope not,” I said under my breath. “My tag’s deactivated… for now. Cace, I have to tell you something. I don’t have much time.”

Cace waited patiently, a carefree smile lingering on his lips.

“Thane knows… that you were in my room last night.”

“I’m sure he does,” he said blithely. “So what now? Is he going to make me scrub the whole ship with a toothbrush?”

“Cace, this is serious,” I warned. “They didn’t just punish you last night—they hurt you. You could’ve died.”

Cace’s smile faltered. “I wasn’t going to die.”

“You could have,” I contended. He didn’t understand how little it would take for Thane to end his life. I didn’t understand, until today.

“Aiza,” Cace said, pushing off the dryer, “Thane doesn’t scare me.”

He drew closer, almost as if he was daring Thane to come down here and stop him. He reached up slowly, finding my face and gently sweeping his hand across it. His thumb rested on my cheek, just as it had this morning.

I pulled back, placing my hand on his chest, trying to maintain the few inches of space left between us. “How can you say that, after last night?”

Cace pulled closer.

I dropped my eyes and made myself speak the words. “We can’t do this, Cace. I can’t let you get hurt again because of me.”

“Aiza, last night was not your fault,” Cace said.

“Yes, it was,” I argued. “What they did to you… it wasn’t about what you did. I didn’t give the speech Thane wanted me to. He couldn’t hurt me, so he hurt you and made me watch. That’s why I was there, why they wouldn’t stop, no matter how much I…” My voice evaporated into that familiar, burning mix of rage and powerlessness. “Look,” I started over, “I couldn’t stop what he did to you. But I can make sure I never give him a reason to do it again, or worse. This is too dangerous, Cace. This game Thane is playing—trust me, you don’t want any part of it.”

Cace frowned, his brow drawn low over his laden gaze. “I’m already part of it,” he said mutedly.

“Cace…”

“It’s true, Aiza.”

My fingers shifted against his chest, trying to escape my control. I could feel his heart beating under my palm. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be,” I begged just above a whisper.

“Make what harder?” Cace asked, drawing tenaciously closer.

“Goodbye.”

Cace stopped cold. “Is that what you want?”

“What I want…” I felt my throat tighten, “is not to give Thane a reason to…”

“To what?”

“To make it so you don’t live to see the end of the road,” I put it in terms I hoped he’d understand. “I’ve heard stories. Thane’s taken lives for less. Those aren’t just rumors, Cace. Some of those passengers who disappeared are never coming back.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying you don’t know what Thane will do to you if you get in his way!” I exclaimed. “I’m not going to be the reason you don’t live to see the day we get off this ship, Cace. Please, you have to forget about me.”

I swallowed and it hurt. Breathing hurt. I had never stood so close to someone and somehow still longed for them. My hand rested on his chest. His hand cupped the back of my neck, but that was as much as we touched. I hung my head, avoiding his eyes.

“Aiza…” Cace’s whisper filled me as he pressed his head to mine.

I shut my eyes, fighting desperately to remember for just one second what would happen if I didn’t leave now. I reached up slowly and removed his hand from my neck. I held it at the level of my chest—a barrier. Or a tether, keeping us connected.

“I can’t be here,” I whispered in a voice so small, it was hardly one at all. “I have to go. I’m sorry.”

I let go of his hand, murmuring a faint and final “Goodbye,” as I turned to leave.

Don’t look back, I told myself, setting one foot in front of the other, tears stinging my eyes as I made my way back through the narrow halls. I’d almost made it to the elevator, relieved to find there were no other crew members around, when suddenly I heard footsteps race up behind me.

I froze, breath stolen as Cace appeared between me and the elevator doors. He waited, making sure I’d stopped. Then he reached out, running his hands up my arms and holding my face between them as he breathed the words, “I don’t care what Thane says. I don’t care about any end of the road where you’re not with me. Being here, living day after day just waiting for life to start again… it only became worth it when I met you. I can’t just forget you.” His smile beamed as he shrugged. “It’s too late for that.”

His fingers shifted, working into my hair. My arms folded around his back, careful of his burns. There was just enough space left between us for me to watch his lips form the words, “I’d rather spend my life fighting to be this close to you… than forget you.”

Then his lips collided with mine. And with that kiss, the voice compelling me to say goodbye to him was swiftly silenced, the strength I’d summoned to walk away, undone.

I drew back just enough to catch my breath, my eyes flashing back and forth between his. I didn’t know what would happen on the other side of this moment, but whatever the repercussions, whatever the fallout, I knew I wanted this.

For the first time in as long as I could remember, I didn’t want to run away.

Cace’s hand glided across my cheek. I shut my eyes, releasing a breath as his thumb brushed my lower lip.

Then his touch drifted to the scar above my right brow.

“Where did this come from?” he asked the inevitable question.

For a moment, I considered telling him the truth. But it was buried too deep, and I didn’t have it in me to exhume it now. “I don’t remember,” I lied, trying to sound indifferent as his fingertips skimmed the extant reminder of that day. “Must’ve happened before I was scrubbed.”

Cace nodded. No one questioned the scrub.

That was when the hall started filling around us again. Cace listened to the rustle of crew members whispering as they passed us. He turned to me. “You said your tag is deactivated, right?”

I glanced down at my wrist. “For now.”

“Well then”—he grinned mischievously—“we’d better make ‘for now’ count.” He freed the pendant from his collar, flashing the small golden key hidden behind it. “I think it’s time I show you what door this goes to.”

I smiled, admittedly intrigued. “Where?”

His hand slid down my arm, fingers interlocking with mine. “Come with me, Your Majesty,” he said, blue eyes glistening. “It’s been too long since you’ve seen the stars.”

Cace and I piled into the elevator, which thankfully we had to ourselves. When I asked what floor, he replied, “Twenty-eight.”

“Wait.” I paused mid-reach. “You want to go to the top floor? Are you crazy? Thane is up there!”

“Would you just trust me?” He huffed, still smiling as if this was all a game.

“I don’t want to get caught!” I exclaimed, for some unfathomable reason smiling back.

“Believe me, we won’t.”

“There’s nowhere we can possibly go up there where Thane won’t catch us.”

“Yes, there is,” Cace insisted stubbornly, nodding toward the console. “Hit the button. I dare you.”

I eyed him, weighing the insanity of accepting such a dare. But I was curious now, so I did as he asked, and together we rode the elevator to the uppermost level. Thane’s territory. But then so was anywhere else on the ship.

The doors glided open and I stepped out, surveying our surroundings. “Okay,” I whispered, “it’s clear. Wait!” I panicked, placing a hand on Cace’s chest. “Your tag. Crew members can’t be up here without a work order.”

“I know,” Cace said, unconcerned as he took my hand in his. “Let’s just say I have a standing work order. I’ll show you what I mean in a minute. Come on.” He coaxed me through the threshold, which by some miracle sounded no alarms from either of us.

Debussy’s Valse La Plus Que Lente played as we traversed the halls of the top floor, which thankfully was mostly vacated this time of night.

“Seriously, where are you taking me?” I finally asked as we padded quietly under the dimmed lights, every sound we made amplified in the eerie silence of the empty floor.

“We’re almost there,” Cace said, tracing the gilded wall at his side. “Just keep an eye out. Don’t let us get caught in the final stretch.”

“I won’t,” I said as we approached the core.

I went up to the precipice, feeling my stomach drop as I peered down the square shaft—a bracing view from this high up.

Cace ran his hand along the glass railing, then abruptly stopped and pointed ahead. “Do you see a door there?”

I squinted at the plain, gray door tucked away in shadows. “I see it,” I confirmed, and together we went over to it.

“You ready to see the Aureate’s best-kept secret?” he asked, holding up the key that hung around his neck. “Well, second best?”

“Sure,” I laughed. “Wait, what’s the first?”

“I can’t tell you, or it wouldn’t be a secret.” He grinned, then felt along the door for the lock. He inserted the key and twisted the handle, opening it to reveal a small room with a spiral staircase winding up the middle.

“Whoa,” I uttered as we entered, my gaze following the stairwell all the way up the towering structure that loomed high above. “I’m not sure whether I should be scared or excited.” My confession echoed softly.

Cace hopped onto the first step. “There’s nothing to be scared of here,” he said, holding out his hand. “I promise.”

I felt another flash of hesitation, but I took his hand and followed him up the mysterious whorl of stairs.

Just before we reached the top, Cace paused and turned to me. “Alright,” he said, “you have to close your eyes now.”

I gaped at him. “You want me to close my eyes?”

“Humor me,” Cace laughed. “Come on, it’s right through this door.”

I peered behind him, beyond the silver stream of light currently enfolding us, and saw that there was, in fact, another door at the top of the stairs.

“Trust me,” Cace dared again, his voice irresistibly soft.

I did as he asked.

“Are they shut?”

“Yes.”

“I don’t believe you.” He stepped behind me, shielding my eyes with his hands and guiding me forward. “Okay, if I counted right, you should have two more steps to go. No peeking.”

I stumbled up the first step, clinging to Cace’s arms to keep from falling.

“New at this?” he taunted.

I nudged him with my elbow.

“Careful!” he exclaimed, catching his balance. “If I go down, I’m taking you with me. Alright”—he helped me up the final step—“now, just reach out and open the door.”

I fumbled for the handle and pushed the door open. Cace huddled close as we stepped through, not leaving me any room to fall. I couldn’t see anything, but I felt the temperature drop slightly. I breathed in a rich, sweet scent.

“Alright,” Cace whispered, “you can look now.”

He took his hands away and stepped back, and I felt my breath leave me entirely.

Stars.

They were the first thing I saw—thousands of them shining brilliantly against a vast, velvet night sky that encompassed us. It looked as if we were standing in a glass globe that had been placed in the center of the universe, with a panoramic view of every dazzling constellation in the cosmos.

And inside the globe, a beautiful, lush garden spanned as far as I could see—walls of vines and leaves shining in the incandescent moonlight, dripping with thousands upon thousands of little purple, trumpet-shaped blossoms. They hung from high above in pendulous clusters and cascaded down in variegated violet hues. Their green vines twisted up and back down the rows of iron lattices stretched out before us in staggered layers, forming a sort of maze, with hundreds of tiny, twinkling lights floating all throughout, as if by magic.

It felt like I had stepped outside of the Aureate for the first time in years. I knew it was only an illusion—that there was still a thick glass wall separating us from the night outside—but it was a spectacular one.

“Do you like it?” Cace asked.

“I…” I began faintly, too overwhelmed to find words at first, “I didn’t think there were any places like this left.”

“Places like what?”

“Beautiful places,” I mused, gazing up at the glittering galaxy. “When you said stars, I had no idea you meant… this.” I looked back at Cace, not knowing whether to laugh or cry.

“I told you you’d see them again someday.” He smiled at my excitement. “I know this isn’t exactly the same as getting off the ship, but…”

“It’s perfect.” I beamed. “What is this place anyway?”

Cace meandered across the promenade, over to the outer wall of the flowered maze, and plucked one of the purple blossoms from the vine. He turned back to me, twirling the bud in his hand a moment before he answered, “It’s the Directive’s greenhouse.”

I blinked, the buzzing awe I felt instantly petrified by the sudden onset fear that Thane could come barging through the door at any second.

“But don’t worry. We’re safe,” Cace was quick to clarify. “No one’s been up here in years. That’s why I take care of the plants. That’s the standing work order I mentioned.”

“Oh.” I felt myself relax a little.

“I’m the only one who comes up here these days. That’s why I wanted to bring you.” Cace crossed back over to me. “At least tonight, someone will get to see the stars.”

My smile faltered a little as I gazed up at the shimmering midnight sky and contemplated the grim notion that for the last three years, there hadn’t been a soul left on the ground to look up and wonder at it.

I dismissed the dolent thought, turning to a nearby wall bristling with violet petals, watching the little lights hover hypnotically around them. “Are these… fireflies?” I asked.

“Technically, they’re a nocturnal hybrid of bees—Anthophila Crepuscula,” Cace mocked the name. “The flowers only open at night, so that’s when they have to be pollinated.”

I gasped and jumped back as one flew past my nose.

“It’s okay,” Cace laughed. “They don’t sting.”

They don’t buzz either, I thought, watching them drift silently from one flower to the next, admiring their peaceful pace. As I observed them, I realized it wasn’t their bodies, but their wings that glowed with warm, twinkling light.

“Lightwings,” I decided to call them.

Cace smiled. “Well, that’s definitely easier to say.”

“So, you get to come up here whenever you want?” I asked with a hint of envy.

“As long as I don’t miss a shift in the washroom,” Cace answered. “But hey, I haven’t even told you the best part about it. It’s off the grid. No Arc. So even if Thane did turn your tag back on, he wouldn’t find you here.”

“So we could just… stay up here forever?” I asked, becoming dangerously infatuated with the idea of the two of us hiding out under these stars until they faded to daylight.

Cace inched closer, tucking the purple flower he held into my hair. There was a deep intensity in his eyes as he concentrated on the motion, his lips forming just a tease of a smile, the moonlight soft on his cheeks. An intoxicating feeling came over me as I watched him. It seemed to steal me away from time, slowing everything down, silencing my mind and settling across my skin, warming me and giving me chills all at once.

Cace’s eyes lifted, finding mine. “For now…” he whispered.

For now, I thought, an indefinite time frame that seems like it will last forever, but it never does. That is the nature of for now. It has to end somewhere.

“Cace…” I drew back, making one last feeble attempt to cling to reality. “If Thane does find us…”

“Aiza, he won’t. We’re safe up here,” he assured me, his blue eyes imploring me to let go of my trepidations. “Come on.” He gave my hand a gentle pull, leading me toward the imbroglio of flowers. “There’s one more thing I want to show you.”

“What is it?”

He flashed a beguiling smile. “You have to get through the maze to find it.”

And with that, he released my hand and vanished into the violet warren.

Several moments passed as I stood there, alone at the edge of the maze, not knowing how to move. “Cace?” I finally called out. But there was no answer.

I ventured into the labyrinth, the amber glow of the lightwings flickering in my peripheral as I hastened through the floral aisles.

“Cace?” I called again, trying to will levity into my voice, but the deeper I wandered into that raveled maze, the more afraid I grew that I wouldn’t find him, that I’d become lost without him.

“Cace!” I shouted frantically, running faster and faster around each corner until finally, I stumbled into a clearing—a juncture where four pathways met.

I panicked, not knowing which to take. Then, just when I was ready to admit defeat, Cace came crashing through the vines, recklessly sweeping me off my feet and spinning me in a breathtaking circle.

I watched the stars and lightwings fly past me in a shimmering compendium of light and laughed, my fear instantly fading.

Cace lowered me gently down, my lips meeting his just as my feet met the ground again.

“Your heart,” he commented. “I can feel it racing.”

“I thought I lost you…” I said, still catching my breath.

The warmth of the lightwings danced in Cace’s eyes as he drew closer. “Never,” he said.

Before I could respond, the head rush hit and I stumbled back.

“Dizzy?” Cace laughed, catching me. “Sorry. My fault.”

I held my head steady until the world was finally still again.

“Here,” Cace said, “I know somewhere we can sit down. This way.”

“Wait.” My hand shot out just as he started away, clasping his. He paused, turning back to me. “Don’t you dare leave me like that again,” I said.

Cace smiled. His fingers tightened around mine, and together we went deeper into the maze.

Cace moved through the passages with purpose, counting the corners, calculating each step, navigating through the maze like he was following some map in his head.

“The Directive makes you water all of this?” I asked as we wandered through a seemingly endless procession of aisles cloaked in purple. I removed the flower he had placed in my hair and looked closely at its petals, webbed with fine veins of white that shimmered like the stars above.

“It’s all on a system,” Cace answered. “But you know, someone has to turn it on, check for leaks, make sure the bees are happy.”

I nodded, but still, I had to wonder at the sheer enormity of this place. Why would the Directive devote so much space to the agronomy of a single purple flower?

We came to a tunnel—a long, arched trellis dripping with violet clusters. I tipped my head back and watched the lightwings flutter through the vines as we passed under them.

“You really don’t know why the Directive is growing all of this?” I asked.

Cace shrugged. “No idea. You could always ask Thane the next time you see him.” His hand found the end of the tunnel and he stopped. “Here we are.”

I froze, staring in disbelief at the glistening, white grand piano before us, set against a wall of glass, so far at the edge of everything that it looked a mere nudge away from plunging into the sea of stars. It didn’t seem real to me at first, bathed in moonlight and sprinkled in purple petals.

How did this even get here? I wondered as I approached the instrument, running my fingers along the smooth, white surface accented with gold.

Cace sat on the bench in front of the piano and lifted the fallboard.

“Do you play?” I asked, sitting beside him.

“Not really,” Cace replied.

“Me neither,” I admitted. But even as I said it, I felt my hands gravitate toward the keys, and suddenly, inexplicably, the notes began to trickle out at my fingertips, gentle and familiar.

Ave Maria.

I pulled my hand away. Where did that come from?

“You sound pretty good to me,” Cace said, inching in to kiss me… until his elbow hit the keys, striking a sour chord. He hung his head and I laughed.

Then Cace turned to the piano, adjusting his fingers in the divots between the keys. His other hand slid off my shoulder, finding a place next to it. And then he began to play.

The chords started out soft, the notes light and lilting with a steady cadence. Then his fingers began to glide more swiftly across the keys, the simple notes burgeoning into an intricate, sweeping melody. It was the sweetest sound I’d ever heard—gentle, and at the same time, stunning. Nothing like the stiff, staccato music Thane forced on us. There was no urgent, graceless pounding of the keys. No brash, abrasive tempo. All the notes flowed beautifully, each one deferentially giving way to the next, weaving together to form a mellifluous tapestry.

I rested my head against Cace’s shoulder and listened to his refrain ascend all the way up to the great glass dome above. As I gazed up at the first night sky I had laid eyes on in years, I found myself marveling not at the stars, but at how Cace and I had spent nearly four years on the same ship… and had never met until now.

I mean, I knew how. He was a crew member. I was a resident. Our paths should never have crossed at all. But now that they had, it was not the stars I feared I’d never see again after tonight. Suddenly, it didn’t matter so much to me… when we went back. All that mattered now was that he was with me, wherever we were.

With one last sequence of slowing notes, Cace perfectly concluded his opus.

“That was amazing,” I said as he lifted his fingers off the keys, the sustain of that final canorous chord dissipating to silence.

Cace gave a humble shrug.

“I thought you said you didn’t play.”

“I don’t really,” he said. “I just sort of made it up one day.”

“You made that up?”

He nodded. “A long time ago.”

“You mean… before?”

Cace nodded again, his gaze retreating distantly. “Not long after I lost my sight,” he explained, “there was this big storm—you know the ones we’d get sometimes in Eiena? There was thunder, lightning, and lots of rain. Ominous, right?” He gave a lopsided smile. “But I always liked the rain. And this storm… it went on for days. They called it a monsoon. We lived in Altus, so we didn’t get flooded like other places, but school was still called off for the week, so I stayed in my room with the window open, and I just listened to the rain falling everywhere—on my windowsill, the rooftops, the streets outside. I couldn’t see anymore, but when the rain came, I realized I could still hear everything around me, and somehow the world always finds a way to go on, no matter what changes.” He smiled faintly, intimating what we were both thinking. “At least, that was how it seemed then. Anyway,” he went on, his hand grazing the keys, “my father was gone that week, so I sat down at his piano, and the song just sort of came out.”

“‘When the Rain Came,’” I repeated. “That’s what you should call it.”

Cace turned up one corner of his mouth. “Alright.”

“So, is that your only masterpiece?”

Cace smiled shyly, as if masterpiece was an overstatement. “I’m afraid so,” he said. “At least, it’s all I can remember now. My father taught me to play. He tried to teach me classical pieces like, um…” He placed his hands on the keys again, plucking out a few buoyant notes. “Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody,” he named the tune. “Or Rhapsody on a Theme of Paganini.”

I vaguely recognized the melody. “I think I’ve heard that one here.”

“Yeah.” Cace turned his head down. “I was never very good at those. I gave up on music well before losing my sight. But then that storm came…”

“And you still remember a song you wrote before you were scrubbed?”

“Well, it took some time,” he said, “but eventually I pieced it back together. After I stumbled onto this beauty—literally”—he ran his hand along the ivory fallboard—“I spent hours up here practicing, trying to remember. That was how I discovered what a good hideout this place was. I was up here for hours, and no one chased me out.”

“It’s amazing that you remember all that,” I said. “Not just the music—your father, the storm—you remember more than most people.”

He gave another nonchalant shrug. “Some things you don’t forget.”

Admittedly, I was a little jealous of the fact that he remembered such a significant piece of his life before this place, when all I had was my name, a poem, a coin, and the Exitus. Just pieces that didn’t add up to anything.

“Okay”—Cace turned to me suddenly—“if I tell you another secret, do you promise not to tell anyone?”

“I promise,” I said, heeding his earnest gaze.

“I lied before,” he began. “The truth is, I do know how I got here. It was because of my father. He found out about the Aureate, and instead of exposing the project to the Eienan government, he swore to secrecy and even offered them funding to continue their work… if they agreed to take me with them. I guess they couldn’t afford to refuse. They got to finish their ship, and his bloodline got carried over to the New World.” He scoffed trenchantly. “I’m sorry I lied. I just didn’t know how to tell you. I’ve lied so much about it over the years, even I forget the truth sometimes.”

“It’s okay,” I said, placing my hand on his. If there was one thing I could understand, it was lying to hide a truth you wanted to forget.

“I didn’t choose this,” Cace uttered, a shadow sidling over his eyes. “I don’t know why anyone would choose this—abandoning everyone we ever knew or loved, right down to the memory of them… just to be the ones who live to see the world turned to ruin.”

“Because it meant we would live,” I found myself saying, my voice juddering. “If I tell you another secret,” I blurted before I could think better of it, “do you promise not to tell?”

“I promise.”

“I remember it,” I uttered that forbidden word. “The day the quakes hit. Or, at least what I saw of it.”

“You… remember the Exitus?” Cace asked.

“I know I’m not supposed to, but… it’s the only clear memory I have from the ground. When you asked me earlier about this scar on my forehead… I lied, too. I do remember how I got it. That day, I was about to climb into the chopper they sent for me. Then a quake hit and I fell and hit my head. We barely made it out alive…” My voice faded, the clashing cries of all those souls trying to climb into that helicopter erupting in my mind. “I know I was supposed to forget it after the scrub, but… ‘some things you don’t forget.’”

I stared at the wall of flowers next to me, the mire of malicious memories threatening to pull me under. Then I felt Cace’s hand land on top of mine, letting me know that wherever my thoughts had stolen me away to, I wasn’t alone there.

I looked at him, the horror instantly ceasing as I peered into those blue eyes. They were like an ocean—when I immersed myself in them deeply enough, the world became quiet.

“I’ve… never told anyone that,” I said.

“Your secret’s safe with me,” Cace vowed.

Again, neither of us said anything for a span.

“What was it like?” Cace finally broke the silence.

I sighed, watching my fingers rise and dip over the grooves of his, unsure where to start. “It was… terrifying,” I began. “I don’t know how anyone could ever forget it. When I woke up that morning, the sky was gray. There was no sign of the sun. When I looked out my window, I saw all my neighbors standing on their porches, facing south. They were watching Altus fall. I could see it in their faces when they looked at each other, too afraid to say what they were thinking… that this was it. The disaster that destroyed the rest of the world had finally come for us. It all happened so fast after that. The commanders took me from my home, right before it collapsed. Everything collapsed. There were floods, fires. The air was so thick with rubble, I couldn’t breathe. But the worst part was the rift. The earth just… ripped open, devouring everything in a giant chasm. That was the last thing I saw before they took me—the world being swallowed up by this… deep, dark pit. And I was so… afraid,” the unwelcome word fell from my lips. “I didn’t know where that helicopter would take me. I didn’t care, as long as it was away from that.”

I shivered, recalling in shame the way I’d turned my back on my decimated home and reached for that commander’s hand. It didn’t matter that I fell before I could take it. In that moment, I chose to run away.

I always do.

“I didn’t see the rest of it,” I said, “but I didn’t have to. When you see a beginning like that, it’s not hard to imagine the end. We chose to escape because we could. No one was thinking about after… when we’d be the only ones left.”

I glanced at Cace. He had a sickly look on his face, the light in his eyes gone.

“I’m sorry,” I beseeched. “I shouldn’t have told you all that.”

“No, it’s okay,” Cace said hollowly.

“No, it’s not. See, this is why I never talk about it. This is why no one is ever supposed to talk about it.” I took his hand in mine, wishing I could recant it all. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” I seethed, “why I’m the only one who remembers.” The thought had never aggravated me as much as it did in that moment—while everyone else on this ship had been living in blissful disregard of our horrific final days below, I was still trapped by the memories, at times drowning in them.

“I never sleep without the nightmares…” I said almost voicelessly, “what we left them all to—” My breath hitched as the scourge of memories ambushed me, and just as I started to fight for air, Cace put his arms around me.

I clung to them without a second thought, burying my face in his chest. He pressed his hand to the back of my head. “It’s okay, Aiza,” he said softly. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

They were just words. Just simple words that anyone could say to anyone. But I’d never had someone to say those words to me before—all the other times those memories consumed me and terrorized my dreams and made it impossible to sleep or even breathe.

Now those words meant everything. It's okay. I’m here. I’m right here.

“I’m sorry.” I wiped my eyes, trying to compose myself.

“Don’t be,” Cace said. “I’m glad you told me.”

His arms tightened around me, and for a moment, the world seemed to cease spinning in its perpetually punishing way. Everything simply settled, like the decrescendo of a song.

I pressed my cheek to Cace’s chest and listened to his soft, steady heartbeat.

Home.

I had lived in thirteen places in almost eighteen years, and not one of them came close to feeling like home the way being here in Cace’s arms did.

As I settled in his embrace, I gazed up at the moon, shining down on the deserted world below as if nothing had changed. It was merely doing as it had done since the beginning of time—giving light to the night so we weren’t left in darkness.

“Cace”—my voice pierced the silence—“can I ask you something?”

“Anything.”

He said it with such soft confidence. Still I measured my next words carefully. “Were you ever afraid? When everything became…”

“Shadows?” he guessed. “Sometimes. Do you want to hear another secret?” he whispered, huddling close.

“Tell me.”

“In the hall yesterday, when we said goodbye…”

“Yes?” I blushed, recalling our kiss.

“It surprised me,” Cace said, his brow creasing. “Then, when I left… I know I said you’d see me again, but honestly, I didn’t know. This is a big ship, and I knew that if I walked away, I might not find you again. I just didn’t think it mattered to you, whether I stayed or not. But then you found me tonight. And even if it was just to try and get rid of me”—he smiled raffishly—“you surprised me again.” The corners of his mouth fell as he confessed, “I thought it would be easy for you to forget me.”

“No,” the word practically leapt out of me.

“The truth is, Aiza, I’ve always been…”

“Alone?” I offered, and his expression shifted, as if he realized that maybe it wasn’t as true now as it had been before. I pulled closer, finally returning the words he’d said to me last night. “Cace, you don’t have to be alone either.”

He nodded, that smile fighting hard to break through, but it faltered under the weight of what we were both thinking. Everything working against us would still be there when we went back downstairs. We couldn’t really stay here forever, in this sanctuary under the stars. Everything it seemed we had escaped up here… it was all still waiting for us below. And eventually we would have to go back and face it—the consequences for these stolen moments up above.

“Aiza, I don’t just want ‘for now’ with you,” Cace said urgently, as though if he didn’t say it now, all of this might disappear into thin air. “For so long, all I wanted was to be free of this place. Then I met you”—his hand slid around the back of my neck—“and suddenly I didn’t have to wonder every day if anything would ever be better than it is here. You’re here. And now… I can’t just let you go.”

He said it as though he was surrendering to something he’d been fighting since we met.

I couldn’t have put it into better words.

I pressed my head to his and closed my eyes, wondering how someone I’d met only two nights ago could mean so much to me. I didn’t know how this night had deviated so far from the goodbye it was intended to be. All I knew was that I didn’t want to let him go either.

Again, with no thought other than how much I wanted to, I kissed him. And I hoped by that kiss, he would understand how everything he said—everything he was—filled me with a dangerous unwillingness to ever leave his side again. Being with him was like being in a dream. And with every second my lips were entwined with his, every shift of his fingers on my neck, every breath his kiss stole from me while the stars spun around us, I fell deeper into it.

“Don’t leave me, Aiza.” His voice brushed my ear, and in it, I heard the echo of a goodbye I was not yet ready to face.

I’d never understood before... how all the world’s light could be contained in one person. How they could come into your life and ignite it, make you lose your mind and abandon your senses just to be near them. How they could pull you in like gravity.

I understood now.

I had found someone, on the Aureate of all places, who I couldn’t bear to lose.

“I won’t,” I said. I knew all the reasons I shouldn’t have, but they didn’t matter anymore.

I wrapped my arms around Cace so tightly that they trembled, hoping to keep him from whatever waited in the shadows to take him from me. With my lips pressed to his sleeve and my voice wavering between a whisper and a solemn declaration, I made him a promise I would never forget.

“I promise, I’m not going to leave you.”

I should’ve known better than to make that promise here. Even as I spoke the words, a voice whispered that Cace and I only had these borrowed moments, warned that I would break my promise to him someday.

I wasn’t sure how long we stayed in the maze. It had to be late into the night when I finally remembered the reality waiting below. Surely someone would’ve noticed by now that I was missing.

Apparently, Cace had the same thought. “We should go back down,” he said. “Thane’s probably looking for you.”

“Yeah.” My answer was barely audible as I looked at my fingers tangled in his and wished time hadn’t caught up to us so quickly. “Pretty sure it’s past curfew. And we wouldn’t want him discovering your hideout.”

“It’s your hideout now, too,” Cace said. “Just promise me we’ll come back here someday.”

“Okay.”

We stood slowly. I glanced up one last time at the night sky, trying to etch every last detail into my memory—the halo of pearly light surrounding the full moon, the sweet aroma of the flowers, the feeling of Cace’s hand entwined in mine. I may have forgotten the great sum of memories that made up my life before the Aureate, but I hoped I would never forget this night.

Cace led us back through the maze of vines and lightwings. We went down the spiral stairs, around the core, and back to the elevators. He was suspiciously quiet on the ride down. I was afraid to ask what he was thinking, and then, too soon, the elevator opened on his floor.

“Wait.” I caught his hand before he stepped out, but words eluded me beyond that. I wasn’t sure how to express this feeling I had… that letting him leave now would be like turning around and marching back into the darkness of a tunnel when I’d just begun to see light. “Just… promise me this isn’t goodbye,” was all I said in the end.

I went to fall back into his embrace, but Cace pressed his palm to my shoulder, keeping me at arm’s length. I stood back, stunned and a little stung by the gesture. “Cace? What is it?”

“Aiza, I…” His hand trembled as it closed around my arm. “I need to show you something.” The tension in his voice indicated this was not going to be another spectacular garden hidden under a banner of stars.

“Okay…”

Cace stepped out of the elevator. I followed only several steps behind, but it felt like miles. He stopped at the nearest checkpoint and held his tag under the scanner. I maintained my distance, until his ID appeared on the screen, prompting me to come closer.

Name not found, ID # not found:

Hair: med. blonde; Eyes: blue; Height: 6’1”

Weight:182 lbs.; DOB: not found; Age: not found

Status: crew

“There’s no name,” I said, “no ID number.” I turned to Cace, heeding the shame of his expression in the blue glow of the screen, and suddenly I understood. “You’re the one…”

The one in 20,001.

The one who technically wasn’t supposed to be here.

“Now you know,” Cace said. “I’m the mistake. Except I wasn’t a mistake. The Directive took me on my father’s bribe and then hid me down here. No one was ever supposed to know about me. Aiza”—he grimaced, and already I didn’t like where this was going—“soon the whole ship will be watching you.”

“Cace…”

He looked suddenly displaced, as if aware of something now, down here, that he hadn’t been up in the greenhouse. “They’ll never let us be together,” he said. “There’s a reason Thane warned you to stay away from me. I know you think you’re his biggest secret, but you’re not. I am. And he’ll do anything to make sure I stay buried. If he finds out you were with me… We can’t do this, Aiza,” he said in a fluster. “You should go back, before he catches us.”

He started backing away. I watched him, paralyzed with confusion. “Cace?”

“I’m sorry,” he said, nothing more than a voice in the shadows now. “I wish things were different. One day you’ll have the life you want. Promise you won’t come looking for me again.”

With that, I heard his steps slowly recede.

I promised I wouldn’t leave him, but even then, I heard that whisper warning that I would have to. I just didn’t think it would be this soon, that the thing I sensed waiting in shadows to sever us… was him.

I took a step toward the darkness he’d vanished into, part of me hoping this was just another game, like in the maze, fooling myself that he wanted me to go after him.

But I knew this was different. If I called his name now, there would be no answer. So I went back to the elevator and hit the button for my floor, telling myself that for now was over, and now all that was left was to try and forget.

“Some things you don’t forget,” Cace’s words careened through my head as the doors drew closed, only this time they felt more like an omen than a promise.

I got off on the fifteenth floor and headed toward my room, but just as I started down the empty hallway, I heard my name.

“Aiza.”

I jumped as the figure in blue stepped into the light.

“Leo?” I gasped. “It’s after one A.M. What are you doing here?”

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you.” Leo inched toward me cautiously. “I wanted to wait for you outside of your room, but it looked pretty heavily guarded.”

I smiled for a second before I was bombarded by guilt. “Have you been waiting here all night?”

“Yes.” Leo winced.

“Why?”

“Thane sent me to talk to you. But… that was five hours ago.”

My shoulders sank. “Leo, you could’ve found me in the morning.”

“I wasn’t sure I’d be able to catch you.” He looked at me, the disparagement clear in his amber eyes. He knows about the kiss.

“Thane told you, didn’t he?”

Leo nodded. “Is that where you were just now?” he asked. “With him?”

It wasn’t an accusation. He didn’t sound angry, just slightly wounded, perhaps. And when all I could do was nod defenselessly, the hurt became even more evident.

I felt awful, but at the same time, I felt ambushed. Leo and I were just playing parts in the Directive’s show, so why was the fact that I kissed Cace so urgently reprehensible that this couldn’t wait until morning?

“It doesn’t matter.” Leo glanced around uneasily. “Maybe we should talk somewhere else.”

For a moment, I was tempted to ask if we could talk tomorrow, but I knew that wouldn’t be fair, after where I’d just come from.

“Okay,” I agreed, and walked with him back to the elevators.

I tried to read his silence as we rode up together, to determine if he was just waiting until we reached a more private location to lampoon me about how my involvement with Cace jeopardized the whole performance that he and I were meant to be projecting. I was so concerned with trying to guess his thoughts, I wasn’t paying any attention to where he was taking me, until suddenly we were stepping out onto the balcony overlooking the ballroom.

It looked different at this hour—dark and desolate, lit only by the muted glow of the utility lights, the phantom refractions trickling faintly through the chandeliers, glistening in ghostly circles across the marble floor below, the stage dais completely abandoned in shadows.

Leo and I leaned over the balustrade, keeping a measured distance from one another as we listened to the faint music out in the hall.

“What’s this one called?” Leo asked. “I don’t think I’ve heard it.”

I stared at him, baffled, but I tried to neutralize my expression. “You don’t know this one?”

Leo shook his head.

“It’s Fur Elise. Beethoven. Thane plays it all the time,” I said, as if reminding him of something he knew. “He told me the song might’ve once been called Fur Thérèse. She was Beethoven’s student, supposedly. Rumor is he proposed to her, but she turned him down and married an Austrian nobleman instead…” I trailed, unsure why I was sharing this with him. Maybe I was rambling as a stall tactic. Maybe I was drawing some sort of subliminal comparison. The humble pianist and the nobleman she chose out of obligation.

“Huh,” Leo said, genuinely fascinated. “It sounds… sad.”

I turned my ear. “I guess it does. I never really noticed. You hear something so often, you stop really listening after a while.”

“Right.” Leo looked at the floor, the way he did when we met.

“You know,” I said, “I was standing right here the first time I saw you.” Leo lifted his eyes to me. “And you were standing right down there”—I gestured to the landing below—“straightening your jacket.”

“Did I look nervous?”

“Not as nervous as I was.”

“You were nervous to meet me?” Leo sounded surprised.

I nodded. “I’m sure you’ve noticed, I’m not great at this kind of thing.”

“What do you mean?”

“Just…” I grasped for the words, “being something to someone, I guess. Even if it’s just for show.”

Leo threw a glance at the unlit stage. “I think it’s the show aspect of it all that I struggle with—everyone’s eyes on us. I’m just glad you were there with me,” he said with that convivial charm that came so naturally to him.

I tried to smile, but it was strained by how unworthy I felt of the compliment. Why was he still being so kind? At this point, I wouldn’t blame him for telling me he wanted nothing to do with me ever again. But then, I supposed he didn’t really have that option.

“I’m sorry for the way I’ve handled this,” I finally offered the first of the litany of apologies I felt I owed him.

Leo smiled graciously. “It’s okay, Aiza. You don’t have to apologize. I know Thane never gave you a choice in any of this”—his eyes fell to his fidgeting hands—“including me.”

“Leo…” I began what was intended to be a gush of reassurances to restore his faith in me, but I knew he wouldn’t be fooled by anything I said now. It wouldn’t change who I was with tonight. I sighed, forsaking the endeavor.

“It’s okay,” Leo repeated. “We’re just here to play our parts, right? But… maybe we should do as Thane asks, just for now… so no one else gets hurt.”

Leo’s exhorting eyes met mine, and I understood his implication.

Cace.

I kept forgetting that he saw the same horrifying demonstration I did last night, and he didn’t want to see it repeated either. He was too polite to just come out and say it—that I was the one making a mess of everything, hurting everyone around me in the wake of my recklessness.

“Leo, I know I haven’t been very good at this so far,” I entreated. “I want to say I can be better, but honestly, I have no idea why Thane chose me for this.”

Leo shook his head. “I don’t know why he chose me either. Until the day I met you, I didn’t even know why I was here.”

“Wait”—I turned to him—“Thane never told you?”

“What, that he planned to make me a Primary?” Leo scoffed. “Not until the day he introduced us.”

My eyes glazed with disbelief. He played his part so proficiently, I just assumed he’d been preparing for it all along. It never occurred to me that he might’ve been kept just as in the dark about it as me.

“You didn’t seem too surprised,” I mentioned, recalling the day he and I faced each other on those steps for the first time.

“Well, Thane had run me through it a few times that morning,” Leo said. “But believe me, I was just as blindsided as you.” He turned to me, and even in the low light, I could see him sweating over the words he coerced out next. “The truth is, Aiza, when we met, I wasn’t really thinking about any of that.” His eyes made another quick retreat to the floor. “I was so nervous when I saw you coming down those stairs. I just… didn’t want you to know…”

“You didn’t want me to know what?” I asked.

Leo’s eyes lifted to mine, his expression suddenly steady as a rock, and whatever I imagined he might’ve been about to say to me in that moment… it wasn’t this.

“That I’ve been in solitary confinement for the last three and a half years. The day they finally let me out was the day you and I met.”

I stared at Leo, my lips twitching with a response I was lost to give.

“I sort of lied to you at the ceremony,” Leo explained. “I told you I spent all these years hiding from people. But it was more like… Thane kept me hidden from them. From the day I arrived here until the day I met you, he kept me in a room, or… cell would be a more apt word.”

“Thane kept you in a cell?” I couldn’t suppress my abhorrence. “You mean like the others?”

Leo regarded me blankly. “What others?”

“Never mind.” I blinked, realizing too late that he wouldn’t know about that if he’d been incarcerated all this time.

“There were no others where I was. Believe me,” Leo muttered.

“Why would Thane lock you away?”

Leo shook his head. “He wouldn’t tell me. At first, I thought maybe I’d blacked out and done something. But I couldn’t remember, and no one would tell me anything. I don’t know what they did to me in there, but I⁠—”

“What do you mean ‘what they did to you’?” I cut in, the words triggering a reaction after what I’d seen last night. “Leo”—I locked eyes with him, leaving him no escape from the question—“did they hurt you?”

The heaviness that settled over his eyes suggested they did, but all he said was, “I don’t know. I just… have these scars, and I⁠—”

“What scars?” I interrupted again, my heart hammering in my chest as I pictured his back marred with jagged burns.

“These…” Leo reached down and rolled up his left jacket sleeve, revealing a cluster of dark marks in the crook of his arm where a barrage of needles had strafed him over the years.

“Leo…” Again, I couldn’t hide my disturbance.

Leo frowned at his arm. “I don’t remember it now, but I’m told I had these… nightmares. This was supposed to make them stop.” He gestured to the injection scars. “For a long time, it didn’t work. Then one day, I guess it did.” He sniffed, rolling his sleeve back down over the puncture marks.

I didn’t respond for a moment. No wonder he doesn’t know Fur Elise, was my initial thought, or where Med is.

Then a more wrenching thought slipped in.

This whole place was a cage, and we were all trapped in it. But Leo… he had spent the last three years trapped in a cage within the cage, alone, like the bird in the poem. He must have been so lonely.

“So they were scrubbing you,” I surmised. “There must’ve been something they wanted to make sure you forgot in there.”

“Must have.” Leo gave a sheepish smile, and suddenly I felt bad for badgering him. “Like I said, I don’t remember much of the last three and a half years. I wouldn’t even know what we’re doing on this ship if they hadn’t told me.”

“What did they tell you?” I asked.

“They told me the quakes destroyed everything on the ground,” he said, “and we’re the only ones left. It’s not an easy thing to wrap your head around… especially when you can’t remember it.”

I nodded. “I guess I couldn’t have seen you before…”

Leo shot me a puzzled look.

“Last night,” I explained, “when you took off the mask, I thought you looked familiar. I thought maybe I’d seen you around the ship, but I guess not.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you before,” Leo said. “I just… didn’t know how.”

Then I remembered what he’d said last night while we were standing over Cace. “They’re monsters,” he’d uttered with such surprising vehemence. “I can’t believe they’d do something like this, just to show us what happens… Like we don’t already know how ruthless they can be.”

I was shocked and horrified by what I saw last night. But Leo had been living in the Directive’s correctional purgatory for years, probably only because he remembered something he wasn’t supposed to. He knew the measure of their ruthlessness better than anyone.

A mordant taste filled my mouth as I began to understand that maybe the reason Leo had been so kind to me was because… I was all he had out here. Maybe our union wasn’t real, but Leo was, and I had as much as told him he was no different to me than the cards I’d rejected last night. He deserved better. He didn’t choose this either.

The handcuffs, I suddenly remembered. Last night, he joked that it wasn’t the first time he’d been in them. It wasn’t a joke, the realization made me sick. How could Thane treat him like that? Leo didn’t even have the chance to defect like the others. Why would Thane bring him here just to lock him in a cell and scrub him repeatedly for years, then let him out and crown him Primary? What was so important for Leo to forget? Was it the Exitus? Or did something else feed his nightmares?

“Leo, do you remember anything about your life before this place?” I asked, once again eliciting that word. “Your family or anything? Do you remember how you got here?”

Maybe if he could remember something, it would help me remember too. Maybe we could find a common factor, and together we could work out why the Directive chose us.

“All I know is what they told me,” Leo said, “that everything is gone, and I’m supposed to lead these people when we go back to the ground… whatever it’s like out there now.”

“Leo…” I wanted to tell him what I knew—that he and I would never be leaders in that world, that these parts we were playing were just for show. But I was deterred by the unshakeable feeling that somewhere, Thane could be listening. “I think you’re going to be a great leader,” was all I said in the end.

“Do you remember anything?” he asked.

“No,” I sighed. “We were all supposed to forget… according to Thane.”

“You sound like them,” Leo said, eyeing me.

“Like who?”

“Everyone,” he said. “Everyone talks out here about Thane and the Directive… and it’s not exactly with veneration. I don’t get it. Thane saved us, right?”

I tilted my chin, contemplating how to respond. “He did,” I admitted with chagrin. “Their grievances are more about what came after he saved us. You just can’t trust him.”

Leo nodded, seeming to understand.

“So how does it feel?” I asked, pivoting the conversation. “Being out here?”

Leo thought about it for a moment. “It feels… like I’m going to get lost.” He smiled, but I could see the consternation in his eyes.

“Don’t worry.” I gazed out at the faintly shimmering chandeliers. “Soon this place won’t seem so big. These walls have a way of closing in on you. Sorry.” I scrunched my nose. “That didn’t come off how I meant it to. I told you, I’m not good at this.”

“It’s okay,” Leo laughed. “It’s just nice to have someone to talk to.”

I felt my smile diminish. “I’m really sorry you’ve been alone all these years, Leo.”

He looked at me, a silently grateful smile flitting across his lips.

“Don’t take this the wrong way,” I said, “but you seem pretty… sane… for…”

“For someone who’s been pent up in solitary confinement for nearly four years?” he guessed.

I nodded, supposing I couldn’t have phrased it any more delicately. “It’s just… I’ve seen what happens to people after they’re rescrubbed. They’re not like you afterwards. There’s usually not much left of them.”

“Well, I did have some time to recover,” Leo noted. “They stopped all that a little less than a year ago. Then they left me in that cell to dry out.”

“They left you in there for a year?”

“Nine months,” Leo corrected.

“One day we’ll all get off this ship, Leo,” I borrowed Cace’s words, hoping they might give him some solace. “We’ll go back to the ground and things will change. They’ll be better out there.”

I saw that spark of hope come alive in his eyes again. “You think so?”

“I have to,” I answered.

Those dimples reappeared, framing his smile. “I am glad you’re here, Aiza,” he said. “I can’t imagine doing any of this without you.”

A hollow smile clung to my cheeks as I tried to drive the guilt away. “You know, when I first met you,” I said, “you had this look in your eye that I hadn’t seen in a long time—like this place wasn’t just… exhausting to you, like you could still see the possibility for something new, something more. It was nice. It made me want to see what you saw.”

Leo’s warm eyes held mine, nervous lines creasing his forehead as he garnered his courage and said, “I saw you.”

A flattered smile danced uncertainly on my lips.

“For so long,” Leo went on, “my life was the same every day. I would stare at the same walls, trying to guess how much time I’d lost in that cell, what I was missing outside, and mostly, trying to remember what came before. The longer I was in there, the more my grip on reality started to slip. I really thought I’d lose my mind.” He gave a short, mirthless laugh. “Then, one day, the door opened, and I heard the words I’d been waiting to hear for years. They were releasing me. That whole morning felt like a dream. While they were getting me ready, Thane told me he was going to name me as Primary, but I barely heard him. I was too busy trying to figure out if any of it was even real. Mostly, I was just waiting to wake up back in that cell. Then I saw you.” His amber eyes held mine. “You came down those stairs and smiled at me… and for the first time, I felt like I was a part of the world again. What they did to me in there, the time I lost… it was all one big nightmare, and seeing you was like finally waking up.”

I swallowed the lump in my throat. That last part sounded uncannily similar to what Cace had said to me only hours ago. “Being here, living day after day just waiting for life to start again… it only became worth it when I met you.”

I shook my head, trying to summon a voice to respond.

“You don’t have to say anything,” Leo granted me reprieve. “I just wanted to tell you, while I had the chance, that… I’m with you, Aiza, no matter what happens… up here or down there.”

From the Aureate to the New World. If Leo truly believed he and I would spend the rest of our lives ruling that world together, then that was no small promise.

If I wasn’t convinced before, I was now. This was not an act. Leo was kind, and good, and nothing the Directive did—not even confining him to a cell for years and using drastic methods to flush out his memories—could ever change that about him.

“Aiza”—he turned to me, breaking the silence between us—“when is your birthday?”

His question caught me by surprise. These past few days had blurred together so much, I had to think about it a moment. “Um, December twelfth,” I finally answered, “which I guess is technically tomorrow, since it’s two A.M. now.” I laughed, but when I looked at Leo, he wasn’t laughing in the least. His eyes grew wide. “Why?” I asked. “What is it?”

“Nothing.” He tried to compose himself. “It’s just… did Thane not tell you?”

“Tell me what?”

“Well, he told me that… the day you turn eighteen is the day you and I will be crowned.”

I stared at him a moment before casting my gaze out across the empty ballroom, allowing the news to resonate. Once this dawning day passed, he and I would be officially inducted as Primaries.

“And married,” I added.

“And married,” Leo echoed, neither of us able to face each other as we stared at the darkened stage where this was all set to unfold in the next few days.

I wasn’t proud of this, but as that last spoken word hung in the air, I thought only of Cace.

Leo and I took separate elevators back to our rooms. I spent my entire commute ruminating on how quickly the night was dwindling into the final day before he and I were to be married and crowned, made permanent fixtures of the Directive’s show.

Ding! The chime of the opening elevator jostled me from my thoughts.

I crossed the empty halls swiftly, anxious to greet my bed. I was nearly there when I heard two voices engaged in a hushed and heated argument. I stopped to listen, curious as to what possible dispute was taking place at this time of night… not to mention, I couldn’t get to my room without walking right through it.

“Seriously, So, I shouldn’t even be here,” one girl whispered contentiously. “Promise me you won’t do that again.”

“I won’t,” the second girl swore.

“Good. You don’t know what you’re risking.”

“I didn’t before, but now I do,” the second girl explained, and I realized I knew that silky voice. Sorrell.

“No, you don’t!” the girl whose voice I didn’t recognize said in an angry breath, struggling to keep her voice low. “You can’t⁠—”

She cut out just as I peered around the corner. I couldn’t make her out in the sparse light, but she certainly saw me, and she turned and took off like a frightened stray.

Sorrell whirled around, her green eyes wide as gooseberries, her cheeks turning red. “What are you doing here?” she exclaimed. Then, remembering the lateness of the hour, she dropped her voice, “You didn’t see anything.” She pointed at me. “Got it?”

She didn’t wait for me to answer before she turned and stalked off to her room.

I followed, only because mine was in the same direction.

I had nearly forgotten about the guards posted at my door until I was near enough for one of them to spot me. “There she is,” he said, already lifting his comm to call it in.

“We’ve been looking for you.” His partner started toward me.

“Wait,” I begged, holding up my hands as I watched Sorrell slip into her room. “Just… give me a second.”

I charged across the hall, sliding through Sorrell’s door just before it closed, not entirely confident I wouldn’t be followed inside.

Sorrell’s room bore a surprising similarity to mine, with only a few slight differences in arrangement. White walls, gold trim, gilded sconces on the walls radiating a dim nighttime glow, a plush, golden chair in the corner, a large rug of fine, white carpet across the floor, and a big, soft bed with blue pillows centered on the far wall.

Sorrell stood in front of the mirror above her dresser, either not noticing I had come in, or pretending not to, as she unzipped her jacket to reveal what appeared to be a thick strip of medical tape across her chest. With a wince, she peeled the tape away, along with the gauze stuffed inside, baring a small, blinking apparatus embedded just under the skin near her collarbone.

The bug.

I had nearly forgotten about it. Had she covered it up so Thane wouldn’t hear her discussion in the hall just now? I might’ve asked, but surprisingly, Sorrell addressed me first.

“You’re her,” she uttered in a low voice that made her sound older, somehow, than the girl who had giggled and snickered at me in the halls. “The Masked Primary.”

Her green eyes met mine in the mirror contemptuously.

“And you’re the one who saw me last night—saw us,” I returned.

“And this morning,” Sorrell responded, arching her brow.

“Who was that you were with?” I asked.

“Shh!” Sorrell scolded, slapping her hand over the bug as she shot me a menacing stare. “You can’t tell anyone about that. You weren’t supposed to see…”

She sighed, realizing the misfortune of her situation. Despite the care she’d taken in meeting whoever that was in the dead of night, she’d been spotted, and by the very person whose secret she had been so careless with the night before.

This time, when her eyes lifted to mine, they were desperate, nearly unrecognizable. “Just please don’t tell Thane,” she pleaded.

“Why shouldn’t I?” I belied. “Why shouldn’t I go to him just like you did when you saw me with Cace?”

Sorrel scoffed, her gaze drifting back to her reflection. “Who are we kidding?” she murmured. “He probably knows anyway. He’s always watching. Always listening…” she trailed, eyeing the blinking device.

“Why did you go to Thane last night?” I dared to ask. “You could’ve told anyone. Why go to him first?”

“Look”—she turned to me—“believe it or not, going to Thane wasn’t about you. I just needed… leverage. Clearly, he turned the tables on me.” She gestured to the implanted bug. “Going to him was a mistake, but I can’t undo it now, so… your secret’s safe. I couldn’t tell anyone even if I wanted to.”

She leered at the bug—the flashing signal that warned the world that Thane was listening to her and anyone she came within earshot of. It was an effective way to silence her, but admittedly cruel.

“I won’t say anything,” I promised, perhaps out of pity. “I’ll keep your secret, and I know you’ll keep mine.”

I hesitated to add that last part. Mine seemed much greater in the grand scheme of things, and no secret was sure to spread faster than one that came from her lips. But it appeared the queen of garrulous gossip had been silenced for now, so I turned to leave quickly, before giving her grounds to test the gag order she’d been placed under.

“Tell him I’m sorry,” Sorrell blurted before I was halfway to the door.

I stopped and turned to her.

“For what I did the other day,” she explained. “I was just… having a rough morning. I shouldn’t have taken it out on him.”

It took me a moment to register who she was talking about. Cace. The bucket incident.

Sorrell saw me with Cace yesterday morning, but she also saw me and Leo carry him in the night before, his back singed and mangled. Perhaps that was the reason for this sudden show of conviction… now that she understood she wasn’t the only one inflicting abuse on the crew.

For a moment, I felt inclined to point out to her that there were other ways of dealing with rough mornings that didn’t involve subjecting innocent crew members to public degradation by their own dirty mop water. Her apology seemed sincere, though, so I nodded and left, not wanting to jeopardize our precarious truce.

I crossed the hall to my room, the pair of blackvests letting me through with matching scowls. When I opened my door, I found a third awaiting me.

Kyla stood at the end of my bed with her arms crossed, looking as though she’d been there for hours, just waiting for me to walk through the door so she could unleash her gathering storm of fury. She freed a hand and pointed at the floor in front of her. “Here. Now.”

I trudged over obediently.

Kyla stood only two inches taller than me, but at the moment, she seemed to tower above me. “Where have you been?” she fumed. “Do you know what time it is?”

I glanced at the time by my bed. “It’s… three twelve.”

“It’s three twelve A.M.!” She threw her hands up. “You’re supposed to be in bed right now. More importantly, so am I! Where were you?”

I shrugged like the guilt was just going to roll off my shoulders. “I was⁠—”

“Never mind,” Kyla cut me off. “I don’t want to know. Wherever it was, you obviously didn’t feel the need to run it by me—or Thane! So I get a call at two A.M. saying my charge hasn’t been in her room all night, and since her tag is deactivated, I have to drag myself out of bed to track her down! We talked about this, Aiza. You can’t just take off whenever you want!”

“I’m sorry!” I brushed past her, ripping off my jacket and hurling it onto the bed.

“Things are different now,” Kyla impugned while I unlaced my boots. “You can’t just keep ducking the rules. I don’t know what’s gotten into you lately, but it has to stop. Tag or not, Thane is watching you, now more than ever.”

“Yeah, I know,” I snipped, pulling off my boots and rubbing my forehead tiredly. “I never asked for any of this,” I said, sinking onto the bed.

“Look,” Kyla eased her tone as she came and sat next to me, “I know you’re sick of having your life decided for you, but believe me, you didn’t get dealt the worst hand. And you can’t just turn your back on all of this and find… distractions.” She rolled her eyes at the word.

I knew she was right. I just didn’t want to admit that my life had never been—and may never be—my own. It seemed like I was always running from whatever system had me in its clutches, trying to buy myself a moment of freedom.

“Get some sleep,” Kyla said, rising to her feet. “You have an appointment bright and early with Thane tomorrow.”

I sighed, collapsing back onto the pillows. “Great.”

Just before Kyla slipped out the door, I glimpsed the tattoo on her shoulder—the silhouetted bird with its wings lifted—and I was reminded of the poem I’d read to Cace.

‘Beware the beast that beats its wings… For it, the earth quivers and quakes…’

I closed my eyes once Kyla was gone, visions of those tormented birds from the ground accosting me—the way they beat their wings against the bars of that cage until it broke open for them.

‘The cage trembles and finally breaks… And open the gilded door flings.’

Six more months, I told myself as I drifted off to sleep.

Six more months in this cage. Then the Salvus Team would send for us. The ship would ground, the doors would open, and then maybe we too could break free.

I dreamt of birds in my deep, but brief sleep. It seemed like an impossibly short amount of time had passed when I awoke to Kyla standing over me again.

“Rise and shine.” She ripped off my covers. “We need to get moving.”

I sat up, struggling to pry my eyes open.

Kyla stood to the left of my bed in full uniform, holding what was likely not her first cup of coffee. She took a swig of it and tapped her tag. “It’s past eight.”

“My alarm didn’t go off,” I said in my defense.

“Yes it did. You slept through it.” She lifted a single finger off the paper cup to gesture to the lights on at full brightness. “You’re just lucky I got up for mine, Miss Up-Till-Three-A.M.,” she sniped, then disappeared into my closet.

“Thane’s going to reactivate my tag today…” I mumbled, staggering out of bed, barely catching the blue jacket that came flying out at me.

“I think that’s the plan,” Kyla called while rummaging around for the rest of my uniform. “And you’ll probably get an earful for ghosting last night.” She came out and chucked a pair of pants at me.

I stood there, pants and jacket in-arm, still half asleep.

“Get dressed!” she ordered. “You’re supposed to be in Thane’s office in twenty minutes!”

I did as she asked, too tired to dread facing Thane just yet, but the panic kicked in soon enough. By the time we reached the doors to Thane’s office, my heart was pounding, my head reeling. What if he knows I was with Cace again last night? After he expressly told me never to go near him again? No, I told myself. My tag is deactivated. There’s no way he could know…

The glass doors opened. I entered to find Thane already seated at his desk.

“Ah, there she is,” he greeted in a bizarrely bright tone. “Do come in, Aiza.”

I obeyed, taking slow, careful steps, feeling as though I was walking on a landmine and each footfall could be the one that blew me to pieces.

A tranquil piano track played in the background, defying the mood of reality.

“Well, first thing’s first,” Thane said, springing to his feet the moment I was seated. “Let’s get you back on the grid.” He held his shriveled palm out to me.

I relinquished my wrist and he ran the scanner with the ring of yellow light over it. After a small beep, my tag reappeared.

“We’re going to have to get used to this, aren’t we?” Thane chided, typing something into the holo-screen that appeared between us. As he swiped it away, his silver eyes pointed at me like daggers. “You and I both.”

I responded with the only thing I could think of, “Debussy.”

Thane looked vaguely impressed. “Very good. This is his famous work, Reverie, meaning⁠—”

“A dreamlike state,” I cut in. “You’ve told me.”

“Indeed,” Thane nodded, resuming his seat. “Now, let’s get down to the real reason you’re here this morning, shall we?”

Here it comes, I thought, my heart thrumming.

“I called you in here…”

I’m dead. Cace is dead.

“… in hopes that you and I could discuss your schedule over the next few days.”

I felt the lungful of air I’d been holding escape in a quiet whimper.

My schedule?

“Now,” Thane continued, “tomorrow, you and Leo will be wed and crowned.” He paused, perhaps granting me a moment to come to grips with the news—a provision which I certainly would’ve needed if Leo hadn’t already warned me last night.

“The day after that,” he eventually moved on, “an assembly will be held. All passengers will be present, and you’ll be making a crucial announcement. Here are your cards.” He pushed another little sheaf of gold notecards across the desk. “Shall we do a practice run?”

I didn’t know what to say. Even if Thane didn’t know I was with Cace, I was still missing for the better part of last night. According to Kyla, he basically sent out a search party for me, and he wasn’t even going to mention it?

I almost wanted to say something, just to put myself out of my own misery.

“Aiza?” Thane beckoned before I could implicate myself. “Shall we?”

I blinked, then picked up the cards and began reading, “Ladies and gentlemen of the Aureate, I would like to take this moment to once again express our sincerest gratitude for granting us the considerable honor of leading you into the New World. The nature of this gathering is not only to celebrate a momentous step forward in our mission to one day see that world thrive again, but also to plan for, and be aware of what awaits us in the more immediate future…”

I glared cagily at Thane. He bade me to continue, so I did.

“As you all know, for the past three and a half years, while we have been preparing for our call to return, the Salvus Team has been striving to build a foundation on the ground that is both safe and operational for us to go back to. However, due to various complications that have recently arisen, and an unfortunate underestimation of the harsh conditions on the ground, it is with great regret that I must inform you”—I strained at the card, certain I was reading it wrong—“that no one on the Salvus Team has survived…”

The words were a detonated bomb, and I had to allow a moment for the dust to settle before going on.

“And our return to the ground has been delayed indefinitely,” I continued, dropping the cards at my side and reciting the final line that was now burned eternally into my memory, “as its current environment has been deemed unsuitable to sustain human life.”

“Just to be the ones who live to see the world turned to ruin.”

Cace’s words were all I could hear as I tossed the cards onto the desk and tried to banish the feeling of walls closing in around me.

So much for six more months, I thought. So much for the promise that one day we’d all get off this ship and things would be better.

I realized this was why Thane hadn’t said anything yet about last night. This meeting was not just about my broken curfew. This was the missing piece I’d been waiting to uncover—the unforgivable mistake that Thane did not want to be held culpable for. This was why Leo and I had been thrust into the spotlight so suddenly, our accession so urgently propagated, and it was not about whatever unspeakable fate befell the passengers who had disappeared. This was worse. It involved all of us, subsumed our entire future… or the lack of one.

“So, the Salvus Team…” I began diffidently, “they’re all dead?”

“Correct,” Thane said, pursing his lips.

“And this?” I motioned to the cards, struggling to hold my voice steady. “Is this true? We can’t go back to the ground… maybe ever?”

“I wouldn’t say ever,” Thane answered in a tone far too casual. “I wouldn’t say anything that isn’t written on those cards when you make this announcement two days from now.”

“How long can we stay up here?” I exhorted. “This ship can’t hold us forever.”

“You’re right,” Thane said passively. “We can’t stay here forever.”

“How long?” I pressed.

Thane didn’t give an answer. His cold, gray stare remained maddeningly aloof.

“You don’t know…” I derived from his silence. “This ship was designed to sustain us for a year, and now we’re closing in on four. Eventually our resources are going to run out, right? Food, water, power—everything keeping us alive up here? What if there’s another malfunction like the one two years ago?”

Thane’s eyes snapped to me at the mention of that notorious day. Two of the solar-powered propulsors had suddenly gone out, leaving the ship dangling in midair at a nearly-vertical keel. Passengers all clambered to dodge falling objects of every shape and size. They clung to anything they could grab hold of just to keep from skidding across the floor so fast that it burned holes in their clothes, or slamming into walls so hard that it rendered them unconscious.

I was with Kyla in the Mess when it happened. We didn’t know each other very well at the time, but after spending an hour huddled together under a bolted table, we became fast friends. We got a little banged up, but we were the lucky ones. A chair ended up wedged against the table, shielding us from the majority of oncoming wreckage.

Med was flooded that day with patients suffering from friction burns, nasty scrapes and bruises, even a few broken bones and concussions. Thankfully, they got the propulsors back up and running before any worse damage could be done, but still… the whole ordeal had greatly disillusioned our sense of absolute security in the arms of the Aureate.

“How do we know something like that won’t happen again?” I challenged. “What if all the propulsors die and we go into free-fall, five miles off the ground?”

“That won’t happen,” Thane insisted. “One of the world’s foremost military engineers was paid generously to build propulsors guaranteed to keep us in the air for the next hundred years if need be.”

I grimaced, hoping we wouldn’t be up here long enough to test that warranty.

“Rest assured,” Thane said, “what happened two years ago was a one-time glitch. It’s highly preventable, and we’ve taken the necessary precautions to ensure that it will not happen again. We can be here for a lifetime, not that we plan to be.”

“How long do you plan to keep us here?” I asked.

“Until we know we can survive on the ground,” Thane rejoined. “The Salvus Team did not have such an advantage.”

“Did the quakes kill them?”

“The quakes had stopped. We made certain of it before we sent them down.”

“So then what was it?” I pressed.

“That’s just it,” Thane replied reticently. “We… aren’t entirely sure. It could’ve been a drastic spike in radiation, surfaced by seismic activity, or debris toxins polluting the air, making it too impure to breathe, not to mention the severe lack of green life causing oxygen levels to decline. Truth be told, there are a thousand things that could’ve killed them. All we know for certain is that they died just days after being dropped.”

“Wait… days?” I repeated, wheels turning in my head.

“That was all the time it took to wipe out all five hundred team members. Now, I don’t know about you, but I don’t think that bringing what’s left of us down there to face those odds would be⁠—”

“That was over three years ago!” I burst, then remembered Tye and Kyla’s warnings. I wore a mask. I was still expendable. “You’ve known all this time?” I asked, adjusting my tone.

Thane took a moment, calibrating his expression to the accusation being leveraged against him. “I know it’s hard for you to understand,” he tried to reason, “but sometimes the truth… does more harm than good.”

“Until the truth gets out!” I repudiated. “This speech makes it sound like they just died! It’s just another lie!”

“Yes, well, we wouldn’t be in a position that necessitates bending the truth about that if it weren’t for your poor choice of words at that ceremony, your promise that the Salvus Team would send for us soon!” Thane glared sharply.

And finally, I understood what I’d said in my speech that was so detrimental. It was not the promise that we’d have an equal chance out there, but rather that we’d have any chance out there at all. I’d made promises about our bright future on the ground, not realizing that in a few short days, I would be announcing that the earth was essentially unlivable—that in all probability, we wouldn’t survive it.

“How do you know they’re all dead?” I asked.

“Because the transmissions stopped,” Thane responded, as if I should know what that meant.

“What transmissions?”

Thane stood slowly, folding his hands behind his back. “Approximately eighteen hours after we dropped the Salvus Team, we began receiving transmissions from their comms… so many at once that they overloaded our transceivers. The signal from the ground was spotty at best—delayed—and the hysterical nature of the messages made them even more difficult to decipher. Eventually, we gleaned that they wanted us to come back for them, but even that took time to extrapolate, and by then it was too late. Only one message came through clearly, and it was only because, at that point, all others had… ceased.”

I shivered, gathering by the grim way he uttered the word that it wasn’t just their transmissions that ceased.

Thane tapped the holo-screen, rendering an old audio file for playback. It began as mere static, high-pitched radio waves screeching in and out. Then, suddenly, a shrill cry severed through the white noise so sharply that I nearly fell out of my chair.

“Help! Send he—” The signal cut out. Static flooded the feed. Then it stitched in again, patchy and garbled, only a few frantically communicated words piercing through at a time, “we—… —just made it to—… —en they…—t of nowhere! They—…—one! …—end help! Please! Send the shuttles back! We—… —don’t have an—…—eft! …—all dead! …—illed them all! Send the shuttles back! Please! Send help!”

The team member’s distraught pleas gave way to a disquieting jumble of sobs and whimpers. He uttered one last “please,” as if in a final, dying breath, and then it was just thunderous, indistinct background noise that eventually cut to silence.

It was, for the most part, unintelligible. But disturbing all the same.

Something had happened down there… something they were not prepared for.

Thane swiped away the file, his thin lips tightening morosely as those silver eyes dug into mine across the desk once again. “That came in thirty-two hours after they were dropped. It was the last one. Thirty-two hours, Aiza. That was all the time it took for all five hundred of them to die.”

“So why didn’t you send help?” I asked.

“And send more to their deaths?” Thane snapped. “Besides, by the time we realized what was happening, it was too late. There would’ve been no one left to save.”

“So…” I scrambled to gather my thoughts, “if you’ve known about this since then… what have we been doing up here all this time?”

“Surviving,” Thane answered sharply.

“There has to be somewhere else we can go,” I contended. “If Salvus is out, there has to be another option we can⁠—”

“There isn’t, Aiza,” Thane said. “We looked everywhere. Anything beyond our planet proved inviable long-term and the technology was scrapped ages ago. Any other remaining land on the ground was deemed far too small and unstable for us to settle on. We would’ve had to divide and scatter across the globe, and even then, those settlements could be lost in a blink. Salvus was our only viable option.”

I frowned, not wanting to believe him. But I did, for one reason. This was not his plan. It was not his plan for the first 500 people he sent back to the ground to die within a matter of hours, their casualties consequentially proving the impossibility of our return. Yet, here he was, telling me this was what it had come to, and preparing me to tell everyone else.

“We’re trapped here. That’s what these cards say,” I inferred, picking them up. “That’s the truth, no matter how much you try to embellish it. The Exitus—or whatever aftermath killed the Salvus Team—it’s still out there. And you not only sent them to their deaths, but you’ve known ever since then how dangerous it will be for us to go back, and you kept it from us! That’s the part you don’t want to be blamed for. If you think that coercing me and Leo into bearing the news will save you, it won’t!” I sent the cards flying across the desk’s surface.

Thane looked down at the mess, then angled his beady eyes up at me. “Aiza,” he said, “crowning you and Leo is about so much more than shouldering the responsibility for a tragedy that was never supposed to happen.”

“Then what is it about?” I flew up from my seat, abandoning all pretense of caution. “I am done being left in the dark and then thrown into the spotlight! Why are Leo and I here? Why us? Tell me!”

“Shh! Aiza, sit down!” Thane scolded, his silver eyes flashing behind me with that strange, paranoid look again, like he was afraid someone out there might be listening to us.

I looked over my shoulder, but again, I saw no one.

I turned back to Thane. “It won’t work,” I said. “Everyone knows you’re the one who brought us here. You’re the one who hid the truth.”

“We hid the truth…” Thane sighed, “because if people had learned about the uninhabitability of the ground in the beginning, there would’ve been panic, and uproar, and eventually they would’ve given up altogether. We couldn’t let that happen so early on. Don’t you see? If they had turned their backs on a sustainable future in the beginning, if they had turned on us, we would never have made it this far. We’ve made a sanctuary for ourselves up here. And now, when we explain to them that it’s necessary for us to remain here until it’s safe to go back, they’ll accept it because it’s what we’ve always done.”

“And what if it’s never safe?” I countered. “The world we knew purged us from it, and the only reason we survived is because we fled. This ship is not a sanctuary. It’s a prison. You didn’t save us when you brought us all here. You stranded us, hovering over a home we can never go back to, in your blind avarice to outlive the rest of the world!”

“I’m not trying to outlive the rest of the world,” Thane refuted. “I’m trying to give the world a chance to live on. Sanctuary or prison—this ship saved your lives!”

“And if we leave it, we’ll die!” I rebuffed. “There’s no way around that, no matter how much we train or prepare. But we can’t stay here forever either, and the minute I read those cards, people are going to work that out, and you know it! That’s why you need me and Leo to take the fall for your failed plan!”

“Nothing has failed yet!” Thane gusted. “I am doing what’s best for all of us, including you. Keep that in mind before you decide to walk out of this office and directly disobey my orders again, like you did with that crew boy last night.”

I fell silent, my expression instantly blanketed by guilt.

“Now, I haven’t done anything with him—yet,” Thane said. “And I won’t have to… if all goes as planned at the wedding and coronation tomorrow, and if Monday’s announcement is delivered exactly as it is written on these cards.” He gestured to the disheveled stack between us. “If you can manage that, then I will spare the crew boy this one time. Understood?”

I clenched my jaw and sank slowly back into my seat.

“I don’t know how else to make you see how imperative it is, Aiza, that you stop deviating from the plan at every turn, both onstage and off… which means no more running around the ship at all hours of the night with crew members, and no clandestine, late-night meetings with Leo, either.”

I parted my lips, about to argue that he was the one who had sent Leo to talk to me, when suddenly I realized… he wasn’t.

Thane would never sanction such a meeting. Leo lied.

“Why did you keep Leo locked up all these years?” I asked instead. “He said you kept him in a cell, that you rescrubbed him over and over until he couldn’t tell what was real anymore, and you didn’t let him out until the day he and I met. Is that true? Don’t lie. I’ve seen the injection scars.”

Thane sighed, shaking his head before finally yielding an answer. “It’s true.”

“Why?” I demanded. “Because he remembered something he shouldn’t? Is that why you locked away the others who talked about their memories, too?”

“I never wanted to keep Leo in that cell!” Thane erupted, his cheeks aflame. “I did it for the same reason I scrubbed your memories! Forgetting was not only kinder, it was necessary! The scrub protected you! Take it from someone who has watched you all your life, Aiza, and taken great care to ensure your survival—everything I’ve done has been for your protection. Within forty-eight hours, the fear and unrest of twenty thousand people could very quickly turn into anger and chaos. It’s a precarious situation, and I am trying to orchestrate it so we have as little upset as possible while I work to come up with a solution. Surviving, as you said, may not be the same as living. In fact, right now, it might be the hardest thing anyone has ever had to do in the history of humankind, but we will do it, no matter what it takes, because we are the ones who still have a chance to. That’s all the Aureate ever was—a chance. Surviving has always been the only thing that matters. And if remaining here for a little while longer is what it takes to do that, then it’s a small price to pay. Mark my words, Aiza, the hardest part will come the day we step foot on the ground again. Now, I am no stranger to the fact that I don’t generate a great deal of popularity out there, but I never needed to win the passengers’ favor. I just had to get them here. You will be the one to deliver them to the New World, whatever that entails.”

I gripped my chair as Thane came around the desk to me, driving his point home.

“This is the part you got wrong in your speech,” he said. “If we eradicate the order upon which we’ve founded our entire system for survival now, we will fall into upheaval—the very upheaval that could destroy us. If we fall apart up here, we won’t stand a chance down there. It’s up to us. We are all that remain. We cannot fail. We must survive at all costs. So”—Thane began gathering the golden cards strewn across the desk—“here is what will happen. Tomorrow, you and Leo will be married and crowned. Monday, you will make the announcement, say only what is written on these cards, and then the two of you will exit the stage forthwith to change back into your uniforms, have your tags reactivated, and go about your separate lives. And I will do everything I can to keep you safe until the day we return to the ground. Do as I say, and you will live to see that day.”

Thane tapped the cards back into a neat little pile on the desk.

Our return to the ground has been delayed indefinitely, that last sentence seared into my mind.

Indefinitely…

Despite the deflective language daubed around it, I knew all anyone would hear was that one condemning word.

“You may go, Aiza,” Thane excused me.

I stood and reached for the cards, but Thane’s bony hand came down on them.

“Those stay here,” he said.

I drew my hand back. “No one below knows about this,” I gathered.

“No,” Thane confirmed. “And until the announcement is made, this stays on this floor.”

I stumbled through the glass doors of Thane’s office in a daze, feverishly entertaining ugly visions of what would become of this place within the next forty-eight hours.

Upheaval, the word Thane used clanged in my head like a pealing bell. “The very upheaval that could destroy us.”

This ship was a powder keg—20,000 people trapped inside with no past, and now, no future. The truth about the Salvus Team was the match that would ignite it, and in two days, I would be the one to light it. Upheaval would be inevitable. There would be outcry. Panic. Anger. And what were Leo and I supposed to do? Exit the stage, take off our masks and join them? Riot against the very syndicate that crowned us?

Again, I felt that burning mix of rage and powerlessness stir inside me, alternating with that invasive fear that our survival was a mistake. We were not meant to live in the world as it was now.

Couperin played in the halls as I marched across the Directive floor to meet Kyla for lunch—The Mysterious Barricades again. It taunted me as I passed each mammoth wall bound to keep us all immured inside this miserable ship for years to come, maybe even the rest of our lives.

“One day,” Cace’s words beckoned to me, “we’ll all get off this ship. We’ll go back to the ground and things will change. They’ll be better out there…”

I didn’t know just how much hope I had consigned to those words until now. The only reason I’d played into this whole charade was so that when we finally grounded, I’d be in a position to initiate change. Now there was no ground, and I couldn’t wage a war against the Directive while were still trapped on their ship.

As I met Kyla at the elevators, I realized she was right. Leo and I were not the diversions. The diversions were the training, the classes, the crowded meals in the Mess, the endless preparation we had been so focused on day in, day out—all to keep us busy and distracted from the fact that we’d been up here for years now, waiting on a hail from the Salvus Team that wasn’t coming.

Targets. That was what Leo and I were. The grand parties, the glittering outfits, the bright stage lights, even the mystery perpetuated by the masks—it was all to embellish the spectacle, to lure every eye away from Thane and onto us. That way, when the truth came out and imploded our illusion of immortality on this ship, there’d be no one left looking at him. Thane would remain our unimpeachable deliverer, rather than be seen for what he truly was—our captor.

The elevator chimed. I shook myself away from my spiraling thoughts and followed Kyla to the Mess, where I found I was yet again the subject of trivial gossip circulating through the line. Except this time… it was not the disgraced, defective resident fueling their idle chatter.

It was the Masked Primaries.

“They’re the ones who built the Aureate.” The comment came from a resident in front of me. “They’ve been hiding up on the Directive floors all this time.”

“Who are they?” his friend asked.

“They must’ve been loaded to build all this,” a third one interposed.

“Maybe they were royalty before the Aureate.”

I had to stop myself from snorting at that last one. Guess again.

“They’re just kids.”

All eyes fell on the young girl from whom this contribution came.

“It’s true,” she said. “They’re the same age as us.”

“What? No,” one of her friends sneered.

“I’m serious!” she swore. “Look closely next time. You can tell.”

I felt my throat tighten as I imagined this rumor spreading in the course of the afternoon. Then, at the assembly two days from now—20,000 eyes studying me to see if it was true, while I tried to convey to them all the inexorable fact that the future we had been so rigorously readying ourselves for on the ground was a lie.

Then I noticed another eavesdropper… standing in line a few spaces ahead of the rumormongers, his ear subtly turned to their conversation under a thatch of dark curls. Leo.

I wanted to get his attention, but he received his lunch and was gone.

I ditched Kyla, darting through the crowd after him. I caught his arm and he whirled around, freezing as our eyes met, neither of us quite used to seeing each other in this context. “Come with me,” I exhorted, glancing over his shoulder to check that the commander shadowing him hadn’t seen me.

Leo’s eyes flitted around nervously. “Aiza, we’re not supposed to⁠—”

“I know,” I interrupted, scanning to make sure no one was watching us, figuring that the new resident and the defect talking in the middle of the Mess might attract attention. “I don’t care,” I said. “I need to talk to you. Not here.” Leo’s ambivalence persisted. “Please, Leo. It’s important.”

“Okay,” he finally gave in and followed me to the exit, giving his lunch tray one last longing look before discarding it into the receptacle.

As we exited the Mess, our numbers appeared on the screen together. I winced, but I didn’t let it deter me. This would be my only chance to speak to him before tomorrow.

“They’re talking about us in there,” Leo said once we’d finally found a hallway that was quiet, save for one of Telemann’s violin concertos playing. “The Masked Primaries,” he added.

“I know.” I breathed anxiously, sitting against the wall. “Have you talked to Thane?”

“Not since you and I talked last night. Why?” He regarded me warily as I rubbed my sweating palms on my pants. “Did he talk to you?”

I nodded.

“Are we in trouble?” Leo asked, sitting down beside me.

“You might be.” My lips curled into the slightest smirk.

Leo’s brow twitched.

“Thane didn’t really send you to talk to me last night, did he?”

Leo threw a glance at his shoes. “No,” he admitted. “It’s just… Thane was telling me all these… things, and I just wanted to find out the truth for myself. That’s why I wanted to talk to you alone.”

“What things?” I asked.

Leo hedged. “He… implied that I couldn’t trust you. But I never believed it. Like you said, Thane’s the one you can’t trust.” His eyes lifted to mine. “I’m sorry I lied.”

“It’s okay,” I said with a forgiving smile, but Leo held his deep, contemplative stare. “What is it?”

“It’s just…” he wavered, “I was listening to them all talk in there, and I had an idea. What if we started talking? You and I? What if we… told them about what Thane did to Cace? To me? What if we exposed the Directive for what they⁠—”

“Leo, I don’t think that going up against the Directive would be our best move right now,” I interjected, but I couldn’t seem to justify my objection beyond that.

“But no one here trusts them as it is,” Leo pressed. “I even heard someone say that the Directive killed a bunch of people who disappeared from the ship a few years ago.”

I felt my lips tighten. “I’ve heard that too,” I said, rather than revealing how much truth those rumors held. “But, Leo… we can’t…” I sighed. We can’t just live like there won’t be a tomorrow on this ship, the words remained trapped on my tongue.

“Look, we outnumber the Directive thirty-nine to one, right?” Leo asked. Clearly, he’d been sitting on that particular observation a while. “I know I haven’t been out here very long,” he went on, “and I know I said before that we should just do what Thane asks. But now I realize, there are others out here who want their lives back, too. If someone could convince them all to do something about it⁠—”

“Leo, we can’t take down the Directive,” I said, knowing too well that if this conversation had taken place yesterday, or even two hours ago, I wouldn’t be arguing the side of caution. “As long as we’re in those masks, we are the Directive.”

“Maybe we don’t have to be.” Leo’s eyes ignited with a dangerous zeal. “Do you really want to spend the next six months smiling and waving and saying whatever Thane tells us to?”

“It’s not just six months…” I murmured.

“Exactly,” Leo said. “It probably won’t stop, even when we ground.”

“Leo.”

“Aiza,” he implored, “you were right. It’s no different out here than it was in that cell. And I’m sick of feeling trapped. Aren’t you?”

“Yes,” I said emphatically. “But we can’t beat Thane.”

“Not alone,” Leo replied. “But if we could get people to see our side, then we’d have six months to⁠—”

“To what, Leo?” I couldn’t bear to hear six months one more time. “What are we going to do? Even when we go back, we won’t escape Thane! Grounding isn’t going to change that. Don’t you get it? You and I are just two kids that he took because he could, because he needed someone to blame! That’s the only reason we’re still alive. And when he doesn’t need us anymore, he’ll get rid of us, just like the others. Even if the Directive didn’t kill them, those people are still locked away just like you were.”

I flushed, immediately wishing I could take back that last part… if not all of it. Leo didn’t deserve this. I was the one withholding the truth from him.

“I’m sorry,” I said, returning to my senses.

“It’s okay,” Leo forgave me.

“It’s just… you don’t know what Thane is capable of.”

“It’s true, then?” he asked. “There are others locked up, too?”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what’s true anymore. But a lot of people did go missing in the beginning and no one really knows what happened to them.”

“What…” Leo began tentatively, “what did you mean Thane ‘needed someone to blame’? Blame for what?”

I had to tell him. It was the only way to make him understand. And he deserved to know. He was a part of this, too.

“It’s the whole reason he’s crowning us,” I began apprehensively. “Everything Thane’s done to launch us into the spotlight has been about this, so the whole ship is looking at us and not him when the truth he’s been hiding for years gets out.”

“What truth?” Leo’s eyes glistened as they searched mine.

I took a breath, and then I told him—the first of 20,000 people I would have to break the news to. “We don’t just have six more months on this ship. Thane’s been pushing that date back for years now. And all that time he’s known… if we go back to the ground, we’ll die… just like the Salvus Team did the day after they were dropped.”

The words were just as explosive as when I’d first read them on those cards. I looked to Leo, his blank stare resembling that which I’d staggered out of Thane’s office with earlier.

“I heard the transmission that came in from the last one of them to die.” I shuddered. “It was… real. Whatever killed the Salvus Team, it only took thirty-two hours to do it.”

“Does Thane know what it was?” Leo asked.

“That’s just it.” I gave a grim head shake. “No one does. It’s just… aftermath of the Exitus. But we won’t survive it, Leo. And Thane’s not going to take that chance. He lied to us. We don’t have six months until we go home. There is no home. We’re trapped here. That’s what we have to tell everyone in two days.” I let my gaze drift to the wall in front of us. “Someone had to take responsibility for the lie. That’s why we’re here. We’re never getting off this ship,” I uttered quietly. “We’re going to die up here.”

“No… we won’t,” Leo said, after a pause. “We can’t.”

I turned to him. “Did you hear what I just said? The first five hundred people to leave the Aureate died within⁠—”

“I heard you,” Leo stopped me. “But we can’t stay here forever. Even if it kills us… we’re going to have to try out there someday.”

I didn’t know what to say to that. The notion was far more daunting than that of staying on this ship for what was left of our lives. He was right, though. We couldn’t just wait to die up here.

Eventually, we’d have to take our chances on the ground, whatever that meant.

‘It will find its freedom, or in trying, die,’ that last line of the poem blazed through my mind, sounding far more fatal than hopeful now.

Leo’s tag beeped at the same time as mine. Seconds later, the Mess doors opened and a surge of blue uniforms filled the halls. Leo was on his feet swiftly, anxiously watching them swarm. Again, I had to remind myself of his lack of experience with crowds these last few years.

“Leo?”

He turned to me, trying to quiet the chaos in his eyes. We shouldn’t be seen together, I read their silent message.

“I’ll see you around?” I asked.

He nodded and we abruptly parted ways.

It wasn’t until after Leo left that I tapped my tag and saw that my schedule was clear for the rest of the day. I considered returning to my room, but instead, as the other residents dispersed for their next classes, I found myself wandering into the fields of the solar range.

I hadn’t been back here since I had ag lab several terms ago. We’d worked so hard to get the soil arable then, and it was only now that I could see the literal fruits of our efforts. Rows and rows of small, but hale cherry, plum, olive, and hazelnut trees had shot up in the back, stacks of sugarcane in the middle, with vast patches of rye, wheat, and triticale spanning the front.

These fields were once the closest I’d ever felt to being on the ground. But now, as I ambled out into the brush and lay down between the rows of ripening wheat, I looked up at the green and gold chutes, and couldn’t help but begrudge them for lacking the splendor of the violet blossoms that had surrounded Cace and I last night. I stared up at the solar reflectors overhead, resenting their inferiority to the stars and moon.

Everything it seemed we had escaped up here, the dour thought I had in the greenhouse revisited me, amplified now that I knew the danger awaiting us on the ground, it’s all still waiting for us below. And eventually we’ll have to go back and face it—the consequences for these stolen moments up above.

Leo was right. We couldn’t stay on this ship forever, waiting to die. But if life outside was ever going to be more than just surviving… that day was still a long way off. We couldn’t fight the Directive if we were too busy fighting for our lives on the ground.

I breathed sharply, images of that last day assaulting me—the screams of souls long dead that still clung to me years later.

I was angry with Thane, but truthfully, I was far angrier with myself for getting caught up in the lie that we had survived the Exitus, when really, all we had done so far was run and hide from it. And even if everyone else had forgotten the disaster that destroyed our home, I remembered it. And for once, I felt grateful for whatever glitch had left me with those memories. Those nightmares that confronted me every time I shut my eyes—they held the truth about the world waiting outside.

There is no true escape from the Exitus. Not even on the Aureate.

After an hour or so, the doors to the solar range flew open and I heard the familiar racket of residents pouring in. I snuck out quietly behind them, then made my way up to the fifteenth floor. When I stepped off the elevator to go to my room, I was nearly overrun by a small herd of resident girls rushing past me in the opposite direction.

“What’s going on?” I stopped one of them long enough to ask.

“Chancellor Thane.” She doubled back. “He’s here on our floor!”

My expression curdled as I marched to my room.

Sure enough, when I rounded the corner, there he stood, conversing outside my door with the guards I couldn’t quite see from this angle. Amon was there too—the four of them huddled conspicuously in my little nook at the end of the empty hallway.

Wait… not four.

I ventured a little closer, spotting a fifth person—a girl in a leather blazer with dark, coiling curls, punching buttons on my door’s keypad.

She turned to Thane, straightening her glasses.

The Directive girl. What is she doing here?

I didn’t stick around to find out. I raced back into the more common hall, not wanting to be spotted anywhere near the suite Thane and his team were breaking into. But just as I staggered into the oncoming flow of people, I looked across the way… and I glimpsed a head of mussed bronze hair moving this way, maintaining a tight proximity to the wall.

Cace.

Something inexplicable happened to me as he approached. It felt like my heart was beating under a brick, the excited flutter in my stomach quickly chased off by a sickening surge of fear. I knew I couldn’t go to him—not with Thane around the corner. But I couldn’t just stroll casually past him either. So I stood there, motionless in the middle of the bustling hallway, my head spinning to the rampant, frenetic overture of Mozart’s Serenade No. 13 as I watched him go by. It wasn’t easy, but I knew the alternative would be worse.

When Cace was at last out of sight, I released the air trapped in my lungs and flew in the other direction.

“So,” Kyla commented as I wolfed down another bite of powdered potatoes at dinner, “I see your appetite’s back.” Her brow shot up implicatively.

“I’m sorry I ditched you at lunch,” I muttered. “I just wasn’t hungry. And I didn’t really want to be around all these people, you know?” I stole a side glance to see if she was buying it.

“Mhm,” she hummed. “I take it Leo wasn’t hungry either?”

Busted.

“Seriously, Aiza, we just had this talk last night. Actually, we had it very early this morning, and you promised me you’d be more careful!”

“I was careful,” I rebutted. “No one saw us. And you didn’t exactly chase me down.”

Kyla sighed. “Yeah, well, I’m sick of chasing you down. And it’s not like you had anywhere to be.” She rolled her eyes. “But starting tomorrow, I’m not letting you out of my⁠—”

The loud chime of the speaker interrupted her then, the general rumble of the Mess ebbing as we all tuned in to the loud, cursory voice.

“Attention all passengers, please be advised that a formal ceremony will be held on the Directive floor tomorrow, Sunday, December twelfth, to crown the Aureate’s new Regna Primaries and to celebrate their union in what will be the first official wedding since our departure from the ground. This event will be attended by members of the Directive only, however, it will be televised throughout the ship for all passengers’ viewing. In addition, please be advised that on Monday, December thirteenth, there will be an assembly held at ten A.M. in the Assembly Hall, at which time, our newly inducted Regna Primaries will make an important announcement. All classes’ attendance is mandatory for this event. No exceptions. Thank you.”

“The first official wedding since our departure from the ground,” the words rippled through my mind as I pushed my plate away and slid down in my seat, hiding my face.

“You look insane,” Kyla commented, stealing the last bite off my plate.

I grumbled and sat up. I knew she was right, but she didn’t know what I was going to have to say at that assembly, how it was going to change everything.

Just then, I saw Sorrell make her way over to her usual table in the middle of the Mess. She exuded less confidence than usual as she set her tray down next to her peers, one of whom immediately shot to her feet and pointed to the doors. Sorrell protested, but was soon relegated to picking up her tray and trudging to the Mess doors in shame.

Poor Sorrell—no longer the center of adoring attention. Now that she was under the Directive’s surveillance, she’d been officially ostracized.

Unfortunately, I knew the feeling, and currently, I was looking for an excuse to flee this overcrowded Mess Hall. Any would do.

“I’ll, uh… be back,” I told Kyla, flouting her objections as I stood and followed Sorrell out.

“Sorrell, wait!” I called after her.

She whirled around, the hopeful gleam in her eyes dying when she saw it was only me. “What do you want?” she asked.

Our tags beeped, notifying us that dinner was over now.

“I just wanted to see if you’re okay,” I said. “You… looked like you could use a friend.”

Sorrell shot me a dubious look. “Did Thane put you up to this?”

“What?” I blinked. “No. No one did. I just⁠—”

That was when the Mess doors flew open and the dinner crowd came pouring out. Of course.

Sorrell scoffed, backing away as the Main Deck filled around us. “You don’t want to be friends with me.” She signaled up with her eyes.

I followed her gaze up to Thane’s aerie, his thin, shadowed shape appearing in the window right on time, his invigilating gaze immediately zeroing in on us.

Well—on me, I realized as I looked back and saw that Sorrell was gone.

When I arrived back at my room, I expected the guards to have a message for me from Thane, considering his earlier visit, but apparently not. I breezed past them without interference and shut my door.

Just as I began removing my jacket, however, I spotted a folded piece of paper on the floor. I stooped down and picked it up, unfolding the slip warily.

It wasn’t from Thane.

There, in shaky, but meticulous handwriting, it read:

One last night under the stars? Greenhouse, 9:00. You promised we’d go back.

- C

My lips curled with confliction, Thane’s voice in my head reminding me of the stipulations surrounding Cace’s current pardon. But I knew that tonight would be my last chance to see Cace before everything changed, to tell him what I knew… before he heard me announce it to the whole ship on Monday and assumed that I’d kept the truth from to him, too.

It was 8:47 P.M. when I finished showering and getting ready. I stuffed Cace’s note into my dresser and turned to leave, but I paused at the door, looking down at the glowing, blue ring on my wrist. The greenhouse isn’t on the grid, I reminded myself as I stepped into the hall, ready to give the guards an excuse about being summoned by the Chancellor. But to my surprise, no one was outside. Must be a gap in the shift change. I smiled, then snuck away before the next shift showed.

I got off on the Directive floor and made a beeline to that gray door Cace had led me through last night, careful not to get caught en route. I arrived to find the door already open, the winding stairs calling to me under the pale stream of twilight. I ascended them, feeling the weight of everything lift away with each step, arriving at the top of the staircase to find the next door open as well. I couldn’t suppress my smile as I ran outside, breathing in the greenhouse’s sweet air, watching the lightwings bumble under the soft, silky glow of the moon.

“Cace!” my voice ricocheted buoyantly off the glass walls.

There was no answer.

I wandered further out onto the terrace. “Cace?” I called again, less exuberantly.

Again, no answer.

My smile fell as I hazarded into the labyrinth of purple blossoms, all the way into the heart of that fiendish maze—racing around each corner, rushing through the tunnel, until finally I reached the white grand piano.

He wasn’t there.

Maybe I’m early. I glanced at my tag. 9:06 P.M. Maybe he’s late.

I took a seat on the bench. As I recovered my breath, I considered that perhaps Cace had come to his senses and realized this was a mistake. But he must’ve heard that announcement earlier. He must’ve known this was our last chance to see each other. If there was any way he could be here now, he would be… right?

Then it hit me.

Thane. He was standing outside of my room earlier today.

Cace was right around the corner, probably having just slipped that note under my door.

What if Thane broke in and found the note before I did? What if this was an ambush, and his commanders had already hauled Cace out of here?

Not sparing a second thought, I sprang to my feet and tore out of the maze, leaving a trail of purple petals in my wake. I stopped just short of the door, though… frozen in the shadow of the massive commander blocking it.

“Busted.” The blackvest grinned.

That grin, that steel jaw… I knew those features.

This was the commander who had shock-lashed Cace.

I tightened my fists at my side. “Where is he?” I demanded.

The commander chuckled, his eyes moving over me, that insidious grin stretching wider as he uttered, “You look nice tonight, Your Highness. What’s the occasion?”

I felt my blood boil. While my fight-or-flight instincts were still battling, the commander drew the stun gun from his belt and pulled the trigger.

The electrified slug struck me in the sternum, bolts of white energy surging across my chest and arms. I dropped to the ground, twitching and seizing, every nerve and muscle in my body prickling with pain.

Relief came only when I finally blacked out.

My eyes burned. Everything around me was misty, miasmic.

I was on fire.

I looked down and saw my skin burning, shedding from my arms and hands in glowing embers. My throat stung. A dark, opaque cloud swarmed me. Each breath I took in only filled my lungs with black dust.

“Please,” I begged in a voice that was not my own. “Please… send the shuttles back!”

It was the voice from that fragmented recording of the last Salvus Team member left alive.

“Please!” My cry was distorted, garbled by radio interference. “Don’t leave me here!”

But I knew no one would hear my plea in time.

No one would come to save me.

“Ah!” I awoke from the dream with a jolt. I sat up, coughing and gasping as I struggled to convince myself that I was not still suffocating in that burning, black cloud. The allegro strings of Mendelssohn’s Violin Concerto in E minor that had seeped into my dream still played as I blinked in the bright-white haze surrounding me.

Med, I identified where I was in a daze, looking down at my fingers gripping the bed rail, the monitor clamped to the tip of my index.

“She’s awake,” I heard a voice say.

I startled and looked over to find two figures in white coats standing over me.

“How are you feeling, Aiza?” the second asked, her voice almost abrasively cheery as she peered down at me over her white clipboard.

Before I could respond, a third voice came from beyond the enclosure of white curtains. “Yes,” it creaked, the partition parting as Thane stepped through, “how are you feeling?”

I glared at him without a word. He seemed to heed the measure of my contempt. A twinge of a smile flitted across his lips as he turned to the doctors and asked them to leave us.

Not a good sign, I thought.

As they cleared out, Thane turned back to me, forcing his sickly smile into an unnatural frown. “I’m afraid I owe you an apology, Aiza,” he said. “I am truly sorry you had to undergo such trauma before your big day. Niro was not supposed to hurt you—only deliver you to me so you and I could discuss the… persistent interest you seem to have taken in the crew boy.”

“Where is he?” I forced the words from my throat.

Thane looked slightly surprised at my temerity. “Aiza, you do remember what I said would happen to that boy the next time I caught you two together, don’t you?”

“Cace,” I uttered through gritted teeth. “That boy’s name is Cace. And we weren’t together. You made sure of that.”

“But you went to see him,” Thane scorned. “And I warned you what would happen the next time you did that. Now you are both out of warnings, and you will both reap the consequences for⁠—”

“Don’t do that,” I cut in spitefully. Maybe it was the lingering effects of being stunned muddying my judgment, or maybe I was just fed up enough to say exactly what I was thinking. “Don’t pretend you care what happens to Cace. He’s just another crew member to you.”

Thane sneered at my insolence. “And am I to believe that you do care about him? Is that what you call it when you go against my orders again and again, determined to fly in the face of any consequences it might bear for him? You are a Pri—” He stopped himself, remembering these curtains weren’t soundproof. “You are a resident,” he said instead. “He is in crew. He has no place in your life. You need to let him go.”

“I can’t!” I lashed out.

“Why not?”

“Because I—” I bit my tongue to keep the dangerous word from flying out.

“You what? Love him? Oh, Aiza,” Thane chided, a patronizing grin sliding garishly across his face. “You don’t even know him.”

“You don’t know him!” I argued.

“Oh, you might be surprised,” Thane rebutted. “I know the name he goes by was his name before the Aureate because the Directive failed to assign him a new one. I know he’s legally blind. I know he’s nineteen years old—two years shy of the age parameter typically required of a crew member, which was only overlooked because⁠—”

“Because his father paid you?” I blurted out.

Thane’s beady eyes cut to me. “Is that what he told you?” He took a bracing step closer. I recoiled, comprehending the mistake I’d made too late. “He remembers…” Thane muttered, his gaze zipping back and forth, calculating. “Did he tell you anything else?”

“No,” I lied.

Thane bared his teeth, an unsettled glint in his silver eyes.

“Is it true?” I ventured to ask. “Did Cace’s father buy his place here?”

“In a way,” Thane conceded. “The Directive agreed to grant Cace admission after his father offered up a tremendous sum of money which, frankly, we were in no position to refuse. But the Directive… they felt having Cace here would raise too many questions, and many of them voted to eliminate him once we were off the ground.” Thane took another step toward me, pointing a shaking finger at his own chest. “I was the one who convinced them to give him a chance here. I found ways to make him useful without drawing attention, putting him to work in the washroom and the greenhouse. And eventually the Directive forgot about him—that is… until his recent entanglement with you.”

I eyed him with a leery frown. “Why would you go head-to-head with the Directive over a crew member who was never supposed to be here?”

“As I’ve said before, there is no one on this ship who isn’t supposed to be here.”

“Except Cace!” I cried. “He wasn’t given a name or a number! He’s the one who was never on the manifest! You only gave him that key to hide him away in the greenhouse because you didn’t want anyone finding out about the crew member you took on a bribe!”

“It was not a bribe,” Thane corrected. “It was a contribution.”

“If Cace is so important to you,” I ignored his deflective speech, “then why did you let them do what they did to him that night?”

Thane huffed. “I told you, I had nothing to do with that. Amon was merely exercising the authority delegated to him to handle the situation, while I was doing damage control after your impromptu speech. I would’ve let the boy off with a warning, but Amon… he was simply following protocol for any crew member who engages in a physical altercation with a commander!”

“Your ancillary said they were your orders!”

“They weren’t!” Thane denied doggedly, then blinked. “What did you just call him?”

“Your ancillary,” I repeated. “Isn’t that what Amon is?”

“No,” Thane said in a low snarl. “I told you. There are no more ancillaries in the New World. And I am not the Primary. You are.”

“If I was truly Primary,” I said through gritted teeth, “that night would never have happened.”

“Look”—Thane sighed, running his fingers through his grizzled hair—“I know you don’t think I care what happens to Cace, but I’ve fought too hard for that boy’s life to see him rot in a cell for the remainder of it over this… development between you two. You need to forget about him. After all…” he uttered with a pernicious grin, “he’s already forgotten you.”

I felt my heart rate spike, images of Cace strapped to a chair, getting pumped full of scrub serum flashing through my mind. I sprang to my feet, the sheets toppling off me. “What did you do to him?” I demanded.

“Nothing,” Thane said. “I didn’t have to. Cace and I simply came to an agreement.”

“What agreement?” I sensed I was being baited even as I asked it.

“After Sorrell came to me the other morning to report the two of you,” Thane explained, “I pulled Cace into my office for a little discourse, to present him with some… options. I explained to him, in no uncertain terms, that either I would lock him away for the duration of our time here for his infractions—which neither of us wanted—or… he could ascertain some information for me. And, in return, he’d receive a full pardon.”

I shook my head, not believing a word.

“You didn’t really believe the two of you had wandered into that greenhouse without my knowledge, did you?” Thane goaded. “You didn’t consider that perhaps there was a reason you were left up there, uninterrupted for so long? What did Cace tell you? That you were safe there? ‘Off the grid’?” He chuckled odiously. “There is nowhere you can go on this ship that I don’t see. You were exactly where I wanted you to be in that greenhouse. Far away from the listening walls—a safe space for you to divulge those secrets you hold so close, those memories you don’t speak of.”

I gulped, stumbling back. “You…”

“I’d always suspected that you remembered more than you let on, Aiza. And I knew the only way I would find out just how much… was if I wasn’t the one asking. That was where Cace came in.”

No… I tried to articulate, but my mind was spinning too fast. I blinked, spurning the idea. “I don’t believe you. Cace would never⁠—”

“What?” Thane interrupted. “He would never lie to you—a girl he met only days ago, even if it meant avoiding a lifetime of incarceration? Even if I offered him a place as a resident?”

My eyes darted to him.

“Yes,” Thane simpered, “I arranged to have him moved up to the Residency if he agreed to help me. Do you really think he would’ve passed up the chance to be free from crew life? In exchange for merely relaying to me the things you told him in confidence?”

“What things?”

Thane arched his brow. “I must say, Aiza, you’ve done an impressive job masking it. Most in your position have unraveled completely by now. Still… I had my suspicions.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” I turned away so he couldn’t see the uneasiness rippling through me.

“You don’t have to hide it anymore,” Thane practically purred. “I know you remember your last day on the ground. The day the Exitus hit. The day you got this…” He took my face in his cold, rough hand, fixating on the scar above my right eye.

I reeled away from him, gripping the bed rail behind me.

It’s not true. Cace would never…

But then… I had never told anyone else about that. How else would Thane know?

“Consider this a lesson learned,” Thane harped. “Be more careful who you tell your secrets to. The truth is, Aiza, you never really knew Cace. He was just an idea in your head. Ideas… are dangerous things to become infatuated with. They aren’t real.”

With every word he spoke, I felt a knife drive further into me. Had I made a mistake trusting Cace?

“Cace was only using you as a means to an end.”

I shook my head again, though less adamantly this time.

“You know, they say actions speak louder than words,” Thane offered, seeing I required further convincing. “Tell me, Aiza, what did Cace do when the two of you came back down from that greenhouse?”

I fell silent, felt the knife plunge deeper and then twist.

“What did he do, Aiza?” Thane pressed.

He left, the words caught in my throat and rescinded back into my head, rolling through it like a distant clap of thunder.

After everything Cace said about not letting go… he left me.

And I hadn’t seen him since.

“We can’t do this…”

“You should go back…”

“Promise you won’t come looking for me again.”

Those were the last things he said to me, maybe not because he feared what would happen if we were caught together… but simply because he’d gotten what he needed from me.

He did say he would find a way to be free someday.

Maybe I was it. A means to an end.

The note. The single thought eclipsed me as Thane stared me down in the Med enclosure.

What if Thane didn’t find the note in my room after Cace had left it? What if he was the one who had let Cace in? What if Cace left the note so Thane’s henchman could ambush me in the greenhouse?

That’s why there were no guards outside my door to stop me, the realization sliced through me, why the greenhouse doors were left open.

What if it was all a trap, and Cace helped lay it?

I fought back tears, struggling to stifle the sting of betrayal.

“Come now, Aiza,” Thane said in a cloying, condescending voice. “You don’t love Cace. You don’t even know what love is. You lived in twelve homes in thirteen years, and you spent most of that time running from them. You ran, knowing that even if you never ran far enough and fast enough to truly escape the system, at least when you were dragged back to whatever sordid home you’d been placed in at the time, they’d have to relocate you. You never did escape the system, did you? Not even when you ran all the way to the golden gates of Altus.”

My gaze snapped to him. How does he know about that? I didn’t even remember it until I saw those gates in Cace’s picture. Even then, I told Cace it was only a dream.

“You remember that day, don’t you?” Thane pried. “The day you finally saw those gates up close. Let me tell you how that memory ends.” He leaned in unnervingly close and uttered, “You go back to the Harena, where you live out the rest of your days… until the day you climb into the helicopter that I send to save you.”

I glowered at him. “How do you know that?”

“Because, Aiza… we’ve been watching you all your life.”

I shivered, suddenly picturing a slightly hunched figure watching me from the shadows all those years ago. “Why?” I seethed, graveled by the notion that even before the Aureate, I couldn’t escape Thane’s eye.

“Because we needed to be sure we could get you out alive when the day came,” Thane answered.

“Why?” I impetrated once more. “Why me?”

“Poor Aiza,” Thane cajoled, evading the question, “living all these years with the memory of those horrific final moments on the ground. You should’ve come to me. I could’ve made those painful memories disappear long ago. But it’s not too late.” He stalked toward me. “One little injection, and we can eradicate those memories for good.”

I staggered back, picturing a syringe hidden inside his sleeve.

“It’s alright,” Thane spoke calmly. “I won’t rescrub you tonight. The side effects tend to linger a day or two, and you have some busy days ahead. But after the wedding and the assembly, once things quiet down⁠—”

“I’ll lose my mind,” I blurted, scrounging for a reason—any at all—that would make Thane think twice before turning me into a hollow shell of myself. “If you rescrub me, I’ll lose my mind like the others.”

“That was an early version,” Thane said. “Powerful, but obviously not without adverse effects. We’ve since made significant improvements to the rescrubbing formula… although it took some trial rounds.”

“Won’t I forget?” I asked. “The wedding, the coronation? Leo? If you rescrub me, won’t it all get erased?”

Thane shook his head. “You’ll forget only what we want you to.”

Cace. I would remember everything else that had transpired these past few days and everything that was about to. But all memories of Cace would be expunged, along with the Exitus.

Admittedly, the idea was intriguing… enough so that I nearly missed what Thane was really saying. “You didn’t have to erase everything,” I voiced. “You could’ve made us forget only the Exitus, but you took it all. Why?”

Thane ignored my question. “Whatever pieces of the past you’re holding on to, it’s time to let them go now,” he said. “She doesn’t exist anymore—little Anna, thief from the Harena, whose greatest fear still haunts her to this day.” He could not bridle his gamey grin as he uttered the words, “Being all alone in the world.”

A chill spread over me. A lump formed in my throat.

I didn’t tell Cace about that in the greenhouse. That, I had told him in my room, before Thane made any sort of deal with him… just before he slid his hand into mine and told me that I didn’t have to be alone.

“You should thank me, Aiza,” Thane sniped. “If it hadn’t been for me, you might not have known until it was too late just how fast Cace would turn on you. If the Aureate teaches you anything, let it be this: people will always choose to save themselves first. Self-preservation is what it takes to survive. The sooner you learn that, the better. Now you can forget about Cace, and we can move forward with the plan.”

Thane made to leave, but just as he turned his hunched back to me, I blurted, “That night…”

Thane paused at the curtain, two silver slits peering over his shoulder at me.

“How did you know I would go to him?” I asked.

Thane pivoted. “How did I know you would leave my office and go to Cace after I explicitly told you not to?” He smiled perfidiously. “I just told you, Aiza, we’ve been watching you all your life. I know you… perhaps better than you know yourself. Did you think it was just a happy accident that I let you leave with your tag still deactivated?”

My tongue curled behind my teeth.

“Get some rest,” Thane ordered. “You have a busy day tomorrow.”

Once I was discharged from Med, I changed back into my uniform and returned to my room. I scanned my tag at the door, brushing past the guards without a word. I collapsed onto my bed and faced the ceiling, every memory I had of Cace running rampant through my head, every word he’d said to get me to follow him up to that greenhouse sibilating in my ears.

“I don’t care about any end of the road where you’re not with me. Being here, living day after day just waiting for life to start again… it only became worth it when I met you. I can’t just forget you.”

“I’d rather spend my life fighting to be this close to you… than forget you.”

Every word, a lie that I so willingly believed. I took his hand and let him bring me up to that greenhouse. I sat at that piano and told him all the things I never would’ve told anyone else. I trusted him.

“People will always choose to save themselves first,” Thane’s voice festered in my mind.

Part of me was happy to let Thane rescrub me, to blot out all memory of Cace forever. But another part worried that no amount of rescrubbing could ever truly make me forget him.

Some things you don’t forget.

But then, this was the Aureate. We all forgot a lifetime of people who meant everything to us once, and we woke up not knowing the difference. All it took was the prick of a needle.

Just then, another thought brought me to my feet. I went to my dresser and pulled the top drawer open. I began rifling through it, ripping out clothes in a fevered effort to locate that slip of paper I’d kept safely tucked away there for years. But the more I dug through the contents of each drawer, the more apparent it became that it wasn’t here anymore.

Cace must’ve told Thane about the poem too, and if it was gone, it meant that Thane was planning to erase it with everything else.

I met my own gaze in the mirror above the dresser, trembling as tears surfaced. Then I glimpsed something in the bottom corner of the reflection—a piece of paper peeking out from the pile of clothes on the floor.

I ran to it, feeling a jolt of hope. But that hope vaporized when I unfolded the paper and saw that it was not my handwriting scrawled across the creased sheet.

One last night under the stars? Greenhouse, 9:00. You promised we’d go back.

- C

I couldn’t explain what I did next. I just snapped.

I swiped away the tears and forced back any others that might’ve followed. I curled my fingers, crumpling the paper into a ball and flinging it to the floor. Then I whirled around and ripped out the drawer hanging from its husk, hurling it to the ground next to the paper and disheveled clothes. I did the same to the other drawers, then I pushed the entire dresser over, letting it topple with a resounding thud.

Still not satisfied, I pried the mirror from the wall and smashed it over the fallen dresser, hundreds of glistering glass shards flying everywhere.

I swept the hair off my face and beheld the mess I’d made.

In my fit of rage, that dresser had become Cace… and Thane, and the Directive, and the Aureate, and the Arc, and everything else that had a chokehold on my life. Now, as my breath coasted back to normal and I stared at the heaps of clothes lying under the gutted drawers and shattered mirror, I saw that it was just another mess that I was going to have to clean up.

But, like the others, it could wait until morning.

I snatched a pair of sweats up off the floor, shaking out the fragments of glass before I changed into them, then climbed into my bed and turned out the lights.

As I lay there, staring up at a dark ceiling, it wasn’t the wedding or the coronation tomorrow that kept me from much needed sleep, nor was it the announcement about us being trapped here that I would have to make afterwards. It wasn’t even Thane’s threat to rescrub me. No. At the moment, there was just one tiny, nagging detail holding me hostage.

When the Rain Came.

The song Cace had played for me and the story he’d told with it. It was real. The things he’d told me about his father and how he taught him to play were real. The necklace with the picture of his family hidden inside was real. So many parts of him were real, and that was what made this so unbearable. It would be easy to forget him if it was all a lie—all the little pieces that made him who he was.

But really, the only lie was what he pretended to feel for me.

It seemed everyone was better at playing their part than me. I just didn’t realize that Cace had a part in the show too.

I wasn’t sure if it was from being stunned, or the morbid lack of sleep from the previous night finally catching up to me, but waking up the next day proved immensely difficult.

Today is my birthday. The thought floated faintly through my head as I went to silence my alarm.

I sat up, feeling heavy and sluggish, my vision swimming as the rest of today’s daunting itinerary began to trickle in, dredging my mind slowly from the swamp of sleep.

Today I would marry Leo and we would be crowned the new rulers of our skyborne purgatory. And tomorrow we would inform our fellow shipmates of our perpetual captivity here. Then, sometime after that, Thane planned to strap me to a chair and stick me with a syringe that would make me fall asleep and awaken a hollow shell of myself, with no memories of Cace or the Exitus or the gates of Altus or the stolen poem.

Kyla was wrong. I wasn’t like Lucas. I never had a choice in any of this. I was a part of the show. And the show had to go on.

I was still dragging as I started getting ready, so preoccupied with dreading the impending days ahead that I hadn’t noticed anything amiss about my room until I was standing in front of my mirror, braiding back my hair. I went to set my brush down on my dresser… and suddenly gasped, the brush clattering as it fell from my hand.

I scurried away from the dresser that had been entirely overturned when I went to bed last night. I gaped at my reflection in the mirror I’d last seen scattered in tiny, broken shards across the rug. My chest heaved with panicked breaths as I reached out slowly and pulled one of the drawers open, finding my clothes neatly folded inside, not a speck of glass in sight.

I whirled around, gaping at the spot on the floor where I’d last seen the dresser lying in dismembered pieces. Did someone come in here and clean it all up while I slept? How hard was I sleeping? How did anyone even know about it?

Then I recalled the joke Cace had made the other night about my room being wired.

I glanced around, wondering if he knew something I didn’t.

“We’ve been watching you all your life,” Thane’s disconcerting voice invaded my thoughts as I shoved my boots on and ran out the door.

I was still shaking like a leaf as I sat in Thane’s office, staring at that great glowing A on the wall above his empty chair. Then my gaze dropped to a digital file that had been left hovering on the glass top, labeled in glowing, blue letters.

The Argent.

I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no one was watching, then I reached across the desk and tapped the file.

A long list of names and Arc ID numbers appeared. I began scrolling through the list, but I didn’t recognize any of them. When I finally reached the name at the end, I tapped it.

Confidential Information. Passcode Required.

Just as the warning materialized, I heard the glass doors open behind me. I swiped the log away and plopped back into my seat.

“Good morning,” Thane greeted as he came strolling in. He crossed over to his side of the desk and saw the hovering file. His eyes flickered briefly to me, but instead of making an accusation, he merely gave an inveigling smile and said, “I must’ve forgotten to close this.” He did a somewhat frantic dance with the console and the file vanished. “So”—he took his seat, folding his hands on the glass—“are you ready for today?”

“Schumann,” I named the composer of the melody playing.

“Indeed,” Thane nodded, too distracted to name the piece, either by the mysterious file he’d just swatted away, or by the probing way I glared at him. “Aiza… is something the matter?”

“The dresser,” was all I said in response.

“The… dresser?” Thane pretended not to understand.

“Why was my dresser put back together when I woke up this morning?”

“Had it been… broken?” He feigned confusion, but he wasn’t fooling me. He sent someone in to clean it up after I’d fallen asleep… right?

Suddenly I wasn’t entirely convinced that my conniption with the dresser last night even happened.

“Aiza… are you alright?” Thane bade.

“I’m fine.” I snapped myself out of it. “Never mind.”

Thane watched me tentatively. “Well, the good news is that we don’t have to worry about any snafus with speeches today. No cards. You just have to walk down the aisle and remember to say I do.” He laughed, but his silver eyes studied me, awaiting confirmation that he had no cause for concern.

“I think I can handle that.” I refrained from rolling my eyes.

“Good,” he said. “Well, you have a busy day ahead of you. The ceremony begins at one, and I know Roxanne has plans for you in the meantime, so I won’t keep you long. I just wanted to remind you⁠—”

“I know, Thane,” I stopped him there. “I know the plan. I get dressed up, I put on the mask, and I marry Leo with a smile. I won’t get in the way again.”

Congratulations. You win.

“Well…” Thane trailed skeptically, “then I suppose I’ll see you at the ceremony this afternoon.”

I nodded and rose from my seat, but just as I went to leave, Thane stopped me.

“Oh, and Aiza.”

I paused, turning back to him.

“Happy birthday.”

I marched through the glass doors without a word, images of that dresser, overturned and sprinkled in glass slivers still flashing at me.

Was it just a dream? I realized with perturbation that I couldn’t quite tell.

I thought of what Leo said—how the more time he spent trapped, the more his grip on reality had started to slip.

We’re all trapped in this cage, I thought. And if we don’t get out soon… we’re all going to lose our grip.

The skylights offered a rare bit of natural light today, I noticed, as Roxanne led me into the ballroom after the usual hours of primping.

A Bach Cantata played as we entered.

“Ah, here she is,” Thane greeted us, his gray eyes sweeping favorably over the bridal ensemble I’d been trussed up in for today—a white gown made of a jacquard silk, spun with subtle, gold detail. The neckline was intricately embellished with the same fine, gold elements that flourished the cuffs of my sleeves and curved around my hips, cascading into a long, flowing skirt. A white-brocade cape fastened at my neck and trailed behind me in a grand train. My hair had been intricately plaited at my neck, woven around a halo of gold and studded with a constellation of white crystals that matched today’s mask.

“Exquisite work, as always,” he commended Roxanne, then excused her to join the rest of the party. As she sauntered off, he turned to me and said in a low, furtive tone, “There’s just one last matter to address.” He reached into his coat, pulling out the scanner. He took my wrist in his cold, scaly hand, waving the ring of yellow light over it, and this time, when he punched in the deactivation code, I paid close attention.

I realized the code would only be useful to me if I could get my hands on that scanner, and if Thane delivered on his threat to rescrub me, it would be of no use at all after tomorrow. Still, I committed the code to memory, just in case.

It wasn’t until Thane released my wrist that I noticed the curious gold band encircling his left ring finger. I squinted at it, certain I was imagining things now. For all the times I’d sat in his office and listened to him drone on with those bony fingers folded on his desk, I was sure I’d never seen that ring. Was it a wedding ring? Did he put it on just for today?

No, I reasoned. Thane would never be so sentimental. Then again… I never would’ve thought him one for marriage either.

As Thane wandered off, I recalled what he had told me about forgetting—that it was kinder. I knew that no one in the Directive was allowed to forget those they left behind. I just never considered there could’ve been anyone Thane cared about leaving.

The sudden applause of wedding guests roused me from my thoughts. I looked over to find Thane standing at the ledge of the balcony, motioning me forward.

I descended the grand stairway, my gold-lined cape trailing behind me as a symphony of strings harkened my entrance. As I neared the bottom of the steps, I began to look for Leo. Thankfully, he was easy to spot amidst the vaunting crowd—the only other person in a mask.

Leo’s suit wasn’t quite as extravagant today, bearing less semblance to the raiment of old nobility and more to classic black-tie formal, with gold cufflinks and faint, gold accents along his black lapels and coattails. He looked debonaire as ever—his dark curls combed and sculpted, and when he smiled, I noticed a fresh shave that flaunted his dimples.

Prince Charming, was all I could think as he cut politely to the front of the room and offered his hand to me. The crowd cooed as I took it.

The show has begun, I thought.

At least with Leo, we both knew it was an act.

The afternoon unfolded much like our inaugural, with all the same pageantry and pomp. Leo and I made obligatory small talk, accepting congratulations, feigning smiles, sneaking away every now and then to nibble away at the gourmand spread of food, the likes of which we never saw in the Mess. Again, I was happy to let Leo do most of the mingling, this time even more in awe of his conduct. How is someone who spent the last three years alone in a cell so adept at this?

I could tell he was anxious. He stole an uneasy glance at me now and then, those nervous lines showing behind the mask, but he carried on with unfaltering charm and affability.

He had just told a run-away-bride joke that had them all laughing, when one of Brahms’s 16 Waltzes came on… and a strange phenomenon began to occur. One by one, members of the Directive began making their way onto the dance floor, falling into perfect formation.

Then they began to dance.

At first I was surprised, then annoyed, figuring they were just showing off to the rest of us that they still remembered the old dances. But the longer I watched them smile and laugh and light up the dance floor with their kaleidoscopic color and grace, the more I realized it wasn’t hubris that filled the floor, but nostalgia for a time only they remembered.

“I’d say the first official wedding since our departure from the ground is a success,” a voice praised from behind, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end.

I turned around to find Leo gone and Amon standing in his place, wearing a pale-gray suit with velvet lapels, his platinum hair greased back, his wild, dark-ringed eyes peering at me over his crystal cup as he took a sip. “Wouldn’t you, Your Highness?”

I gave a reviling glare. Cace and I might not be on speaking terms, but that didn’t mean I’d forgiven Amon for the part he’d played in Cace’s punishment. What made him think he could just strike up a casual conversation with me now?

I made a show of peering around him to find Leo, who appeared to have been stolen away by several members of the Directive more inclined to banter than dance. I started toward him, but Amon stepped in my path.

“I hear you have an announcement to make at tomorrow’s assembly,” he said, ice-blue eyes locking with mine.

He knows.

“What do you think I should tell them?” I challenged. “When they all realize they’ve been lied to? That we have no future on the ground?”

“Well, that’s the beauty of that mask you wear, isn’t it?” Amon gestured to it with a deranged laugh. “You don’t have to have all the answers.”

“Leo and I are the masks. That’s the point of all this, right?” I motioned to the fanfare around us. “So Thane has someone to hide behind, someone to blame for his broken promise that we would live.”

“We did live.” Amon’s glacial eyes twitched.

“But we can’t go back,” I refuted.

“We will go back,” he countered, “when the time is right.”

I scoffed. “You have about as much blind faith in Thane’s plan as he does.”

“A plan that saved us,” Amon returned sharply. Then he spotted Leo making his way back to us. “Anyway,” he declared ostentatiously, “enjoy the rest of the festivities, Your Highness.” He gave a showy bow as he slunk away.

I cringed, seeing flashes of that baton slating Cace’s back again and again at his command, and suddenly, a disquieting thought occurred to me.

What was done to Cace that night… that was real, too. I was the one who defied Thane’s orders, and he took the thrashing for it. All he did was try to save me.

I was still angry with Cace, but I felt that hot rage temper significantly as I realized in hindsight that perhaps that was the night I became the enemy to him. Or, at least, a girl whose trust was worth betraying for a free ride out of crew.

But where that rage abated, only heartache remained—simmering heartache that I couldn’t allow myself to feel now. I blinked, composing myself quickly as Leo approached.

“Sorry.” He furrowed his lip.

“Don’t be.” I smiled.

Then the gramophone struck up a new refrain. Leo saw the spark of recognition in my eyes and grinned, holding out his hand. “Shall we?”

I stared at him. “Shall we what?”

“Dance.” He took my hand in his. “Everyone else is.”

“Leo, I—I can’t,” I protested as he pulled me out onto the floor.

“Yes, you can,” he insisted, his other hand sliding around my waist as he led me in a sequence of simple steps and turns.

“Alright, how is it you know how to do this?” I asked.

“What, you didn’t think they offered ballroom dancing in solitary?” he quipped. “I have to say, it’s better with a partner.”

I narrowed my eyes, pressing him for a real answer. “Leo…”

“Let’s just dance,” he whispered, the smiling lines beneath his mask receding ever so slightly. “Please?”

As his eyes pleaded with me, I realized this was not the time or place. We’d only make a scene, and not the one we were meant to be making right now. So I let it go and tried to play my part as convincingly as Leo played his, even if he only did so out of fear of being locked away again.

“Quite a show, isn’t it?” Leo commented, glancing around as we fell into a rhythm. “Doesn’t it all seem a little backwards? Isn’t the party supposed to happen after the wedding?”

“First wedding since the ground,” I mumbled. “And you know the Directive. It’s all about spectacle.”

“I suppose,” Leo said resignedly, and suddenly I felt a twinge of guilt, not only for having called our wedding a spectacle, but also for forgetting that for the last few years, Leo had only seen the side of the Directive that they intentionally kept out of the spectacle.

“You never heard the music, did you?” I asked him. “Where you were?”

Leo’s gaze held mine as the room swirled around us. “No,” he admitted. “I never heard it. What are we listening to now?”

“Pachelbel’s Canon. Thane says it was traditionally played at weddings.”

“I like this one.”

“Me too.” I smiled as my favorite part of the song came around. “It really is beautiful, isn’t it? I get so used to hearing these songs, sometimes I forget the reminder they are… that people are capable of more than just surviving.”

“Maybe someone will write them again someday,” Leo mused. “When we aren’t all so worried about living to see tomorrow.”

“Maybe.”

“So, which of these songs is your favorite?” Leo asked.

“Ave Maria.” The answer came to me easily. “Gounod and Bach. It’s the one piece Thane plays that makes me feel less… trapped here.”

“So… free,” Leo translated. “You’ll have to point it out to me the next time it plays.”

“I will,” I promised.

Leo’s smile fell slightly. “Listen, Aiza, I’m sorry about yesterday. I know I sounded crazy. Thane told me everything last night after you and I talked. You were right. We’re going to be here a long time. The last thing we want to do is make enemies of the Directive.” We both peered uneasily over our shoulders at the adoring audience soon to turn on us. “Anyway”—Leo faced me again—“I’m sorry if I scared you.”

“It’s okay. I’ve been acting a little crazy lately myself. But that’s all over,” I said, banishing all thoughts of Cace’s treachery. “It’s just you and me now. Together…” I drew a little closer to those amber eyes. “Right?”

“Right,” Leo grinned, then he did something utterly unexpected.

In a single maneuver, he somehow had me enfolded in both his arms, my back pressed to his chest. Then, just as quickly, his arms unfurled, sending me wheeling away from him. The room rushed around me in a blur of luminescent color and light, so fast that it felt for a moment like I was flying, and before I could even catch my breath, I was back in his arms.

His left hand clasped mine, the other sliding around my waist again.

I beamed at him, and while the fawning cries from our spectators still surrounded us, Leo dipped me back in his arms, his eyes flitting back and forth between mine under the gilt brow of his mask. “Aiza?” he said, the slight tremble of his voice betraying the suave of his movements.

“Yes?” I replied breathlessly, the room spinning as I clung to him.

“I know this is all just for show…”

“Uhu…” I said dizzily.

“But…” Leo’s gaze wandered away from my eyes and settled on my lips, which happened to be hovering within inches of his at the moment.

My stomach fluttered as I waited for him to work up the nerve to say whatever he was about to say… or do whatever he was about to do.

“I just…” He blinked, returning his wayward eyes to mine. “I just want you to know that I meant what I said. I’m with you… no matter what.” He offered a small smile as he brought me back to my feet. “I know this all happened so fast,” he said, “and I know that nobody wants this choice to be made for them, but I just want you to know… I wouldn’t have chosen anyone else. That’s the truth. But this… is for them.”

He suddenly dropped to one knee in front of me, reaching into his jacket pocket and pulling out a small velvet box. The audience became hysterical as he opened it to reveal a dazzling, gold ring.

“I can’t take credit for this,” Leo said so that only I could hear him. “It was Thane’s idea. Like you said… spectacle. May I?”

I nodded, presenting my left hand. He removed the ring from the box and slid it onto my finger to a score of spirited applause.

Leo understood this was all a show, and we were just here to play our parts. He played his well, despite the fact that he knew who I’d chosen.

Perhaps I’d chosen wrong.

I smiled for the onlookers as Leo stood and embraced me. Inside, though, I felt a final piece of myself fall away quietly, like the last petal of a wilting flower.

If being rescrubbed was the only way I could hope to play my part as well as Leo, then I wouldn’t fight it anymore. He deserved that much from me, at least.

As I danced in Leo’s arms, I tried to forget about Cace, about everything—to lose myself in the spectacle. And it almost worked. Almost.

But just as I began to settle into our performance, Leo led me in a turn… and I spotted a head of untamed bronze hair moving across the room.

Cace.

I stood, frozen in the middle of the dance floor, heart pounding as I beheld Cace at the back of the room with the rest of the wait staff.

What is he doing here? How could they let him in here?

“Aiza? What’s wrong?” Leo asked, following my gaze.

“Nothing.” I shook my head, suppressing the wave of feelings swelling inside, but it was too late. Leo had seen him.

“I’m fine,” I swore. “I just… didn’t expect him to be here is all.”

My pitch was unconvincing at best, but Leo knew as well as I did, the show had to go on, so he took me back in his arms and we kept dancing.

There was something I couldn’t push past, though.

Cace was wearing a crew uniform. Not a resident’s.

I tried to be inconspicuous as I stole glances over Leo’s shoulder, watching that head of bronze hair weave through the back of the room. The door at the far corner cracked open just enough for him to slip out.

Maybe he isn’t supposed to be here, I thought. Maybe he stole that uniform and snuck in.

“Aiza?” Leo bade.

“Huh?” I blinked, realizing I had stopped again. “Oh, sorry.”

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

“Yes,” I lied, tucking a loose curl behind my ear. This wasn’t working. “I just… need to go to the ladies’ room. I’ll be right back, okay?”

“Okay,” Leo said, though I could see a flicker of suspicion as he let go of my hand.

I barreled through the crowd, toward the door I saw Cace leave through. I stumbled out into the hall and found him pacing the floor.

“Aiza?” Cace lifted his head hopefully.

“It’s me,” the words fell coldly from my lips.

Despite my frigid tone, he smiled. And when I saw it—that enigmatic smile that once lit up my world—I felt my armor of indifference fall away.

“What are you doing here?” I asked, my voice jagged.

“Well, you came looking for me last time. I figured it was my turn to find you.” Cace turned up one corner of his mouth. “Is this a bad time?”

“You told me not to come looking for you again last time, remember?” I returned, ignoring his attempt at levity.

Cace’s smile vanished. “I know. I shouldn’t have said that. But Aiza, there’s something I have to tell you⁠—”

“Look, I don’t know why you’re here,” I cut him off. “I don’t know if it’s to explain, or to lie to me again, but it doesn’t matter. You need to leave.”

“Wait, Aiza!” Cace reached out, nearly catching my arm. “What do you mean lie to you again?” he asked, turning up his palm.

“Don’t do that,” I berated, fighting the pang in my chest. “I know, okay? Thane told me everything. The show’s over now.”

“What show?” Cace’s features sharpened. “What did Thane say to you?”

I shook my head. “Cace…”

“Aiza,” he enjoined, “whatever he told you, it isn’t true. He lied to you. Not me. You have to know that.”

“Yeah, that’s what I thought at first,” I said acridly. “But then how did he know about everything I told you? About the dream I had with the Altus gates, or the poem hidden in my dresser—which he took, by the way? How did he know that I remember the Exitus? I’ve never told anyone any of that, except you!”

“How could you think I told him all of that?” Cace implored.

“Because,” I snapped, tears stinging my eyes, my throat burning as I forced out the words, “after we came back down from the greenhouse… you walked away. You left me!”

“I know.” Cace ran his hand over his eyes, through his hair. “I can explain that. It’s not what you think. I was just… afraid of what might happen if he caught us together.”

I shook my head again. “That’s just it, Cace. You were never afraid of Thane. You said as much. And I didn’t understand why, after what he did to you, but I do now. You weren’t afraid of Thane… because you made a deal with him. And you had me right where he wanted me—in that greenhouse with you, where I’d tell you everything I remember, so you could turn around and tell him… so he’d know exactly what he’s erasing when he rescrubs me!”

Cace quailed at that last part. “When?” he asked.

“Tomorrow, after the assembly,” I said. “He’s going to wipe it all… including you.”

Cace’s expression ranged from shock to hurt to wrath. “Aiza, you have to believe me,” he said through gritted teeth, “I never told Thane anything.”

“How else could he know those things, Cace?” I demanded, part of me wishing desperately that he had an answer.

“I don’t know!” He threw his arms out. “Because… Thane always knows. I don’t know how, but somehow he always knows about everything! But I didn’t tell him. I would never do that!”

“Not unless he offered to free you from crew and make you a resident, right?”

Cace took a step back. “Is that what he told you? Aiza, look at me! Does it look like he made me a resident?” He tugged at his white jacket, which had clearly been stolen, because he was wearing a plain service uniform under it. Still… it was a crew uniform—not a resident’s.

“Your Highness,” a third voice interjected, again raising the hairs on my neck. I whirled around to find Amon standing in front of the ballroom door as it fell shut. “Apologies for the interruption,” he said, taking in the tension of the scene he had just intruded on. “You’re needed back inside.”

“Fine, I’ll be in there in a second.” I waved him off, but Amon lingered still. “You can leave now,” I excused him, less than politely.

Finally, after shooting one last demeaning look at Cace, he did.

“Please, Aiza.” Cace reached for my arm when it was just the two of us again, catching it this time. “I promise, I can explain all this, if you just give me a chance. There’s something I did lie to you about—how I really got here. It’s not what you⁠—”

“I don’t want to hear it, Cace,” I interrupted, pulling free of his grasp. “Thane was right. I never should’ve trusted you.”

“And you can trust Thane?” Cace countered. “Don’t you see what he’s doing? He couldn’t keep me away from you, so he found a way to keep you away from me!”

“I can’t do this right now!” I fumed, turning for the door. “I have to go back in there.”

“Don’t do this, Aiza,” Cace beseeched. “Don’t let him rescrub you.”

I sighed, letting my hand fall from the gilded handle. I faced him, daring to ask the question, “How else am I supposed to forget you?”

Cace folded his brow. “Is that what you want?”

I blinked away tears. “It was just a dream, you and me,” I said faintly. “Now you have to let me wake up.”

Cace frowned. Those blue eyes that once held all the world’s light now held a stormy sky about to break.

“Please, Cace,” my voice cracked with desperation, “just… go.”

“Alright,” Cace said. “I’ll go… if that’s what you want.”

But neither of us moved.

We might have stood there forever, trapped in each other’s gravity… were it not for the blue glint I caught peeking out from his collar just then.

The necklace. The tangible memory that he was allowed to keep… while he helped Thane learn how to strip me of every last one of mine.

I dug my fingers into my palms, working up the will to be the one to walk away this time. “Do me a favor, Cace,” I stole the very words he’d used, “promise you won’t come looking for me again.”

With that, I yanked the door open, vibrant music and chatter instantly spilling out of the ballroom.

“If you change your mind,” Cace’s voice barely carried over it, “you know where you can find me.”

I turned away, stepping decidedly back into the vortex of revelry and light. But even as the door fell closed behind me, I felt that gravity pulling at me from the other side. I paused with my back against the door that divided us, throwing a hesitant half-glance over my shoulder. Thankfully, before I could do anything foolish, I was intercepted.

“There you are.”

I whirled around. “Kyla,” I stammered, surprised to see her here, in full Command attire, “what are you doing here?”

“Security detail,” she said. “Listen, Thane’s about to flip his lid. You need to get back your groom, now.” She faced me toward the vast sea of Directive guests and then shoved me into the fray. “Look alive!”

I felt all eyes on me as I endeavored to cross the room to Leo with some marginal level of poise. I was glad to be wearing a mask.

“Are you okay?” Leo asked once I’d reached him.

“I’m fine.” I gave a weak smile. “I just… don’t want to dance anymore.”

“Sure,” Leo obliged.

As we departed from the dance floor, I spied two commanders stealing across the back of the ballroom and out the back door. I knew who they’d been sent after, but I tried not to think about it. About him.

Eventually, the ceremony commenced. I watched from behind velvet curtains as members of the Directive shuffled into their seats. Thane stood behind the glass podium onstage, Amon hovering in his shadow like always. Leo strode out and took his position to the right of the makeshift altar in front of the stage. Then, to my bewilderment, a fair-haired girl in a glittering, sea-green gown strutted out and took my place on the left.

My heart skipped a beat as she turned toward the audience and I saw that she, too, was wearing a gold mask. Who is that?

A woman appeared at my side just then, dressed like one of Roxanne’s minions and waving a bouquet of flowers in my face, saying it was almost time for me to go down the aisle. I wanted to ask her if she was certain that was still the plan, but the moment I took the bouquet, she was gone.

I looked down at the flowers she’d left me with—an arrangement of fresh-cut, purple, trumpet-shaped blossoms.

My breath hitched. “You know where you can find me.”

I realized the flowers from the greenhouse were probably the only presentable ones on the ship, but still, it was a cruel trick for Thane to make me hold them while I went down the aisle.

The song playing faded out and Wagner’s Bridal Chorus started up, prompting the guests to their feet. This is it, I told myself, smoothing out my gown. No running away.

I took a deep breath and began my ceremonious march. I tried to keep my focus on Leo as I made my way to him, rather than on all the other eyes leeched onto me… especially the mysterious blonde standing in my place. No… she wasn’t quite in my place, I realized as I neared her. She stood just a little to the left of it.

When I reached the altar, she held out her hand to take my bouquet. I was happy to hand it off, the sweet smell making me woozy, but just as I did, I looked closely and noticed a small ring of pinprick scars just below her collarbone… from the tines of the bug that had been there previously.

“Sorrell?” I whispered.

“Shh,” she scolded, taking the flowers, her green eyes moving shiftily around the room under the glittering curve of her mask. They stalled on someone seated in the front row. I turned to find the Directive girl who had let Thane into my room last night staring up at us.

The music faded out. Sorrell blinked and resumed her place. I returned my focus to Leo as we joined hands and Thane began conducting the ceremony. He recited a few ritual lines for Leo to repeat, then me. Back and forth it went, until eventually we came to the I do’s.

“Ileon,” Thane began the dictation, “do you take Azara to be your lawfully wedded wife, to be faithful and devoted to her, to demonstrate…”

I tuned out momentarily. Suddenly this all felt much too real. Show or not, this promise that Leo and I were about to make would bind us to one another for the rest of our lives.

“... for as long as you both shall live?”

Leo’s eyes met mine, stealing me back as he professed, “I do.”

My turn. I only hoped I could deliver my line half as immaculately.

Thane locked eyes with me. “Azara,” he uttered warningly, “do you take Ileon to be your lawfully wedded husband, to be faithful and devoted…”

I tuned out again, glancing down my hands in Leo’s, the ring on my left finger sparkling in the light.

Then my gaze wandered to that gold band encompassing Thane’s finger. He was married, I thought again, still unable to fathom it.

“... for as long as you both shall live?” Thane’s prompt called me back.

I turned to him, watching him force a stiff smile for the cameras as he waited anxiously for me to say those two crucial words.

I looked back at Leo, working up the courage to say them… when suddenly, it came down on me like an anvil.

My eyes shot back to Thane, heart beating fiercely.

That smile. That forced smile. I had seen it before.

I studied Thane’s pale, colorless eyes, his grayed hair combed neatly to the side, his gaunt figure eroded by time, his nodular hands that had spent innumerable hours toiling at a piano over the years.

My gaze reverted again to that band on his left finger, and this time, I noticed the unique, geometric lines etched on its surface.

I had seen that etching too… in the same place as that smile.

When I finally found the voice to speak into the austere silence that clung to the ballroom, I found myself uttering a very different pair of words than the ones I was duty-bound to say today. “I… can’t.”

And with that, I turned and sprinted out of that ballroom as fast my legs would take me.

So much for not running away.

So much for playing my part, not getting in the way of the plan.

All that went out the door when I did.

I plowed through the towering doors, stumbled out into the empty hallway and halted, still coming to grips with what I had just done… what I had just put together.

The picture from Cace’s necklace flashed at me—the tiny, hidden family portrait with young Cace standing outside the golden gates of Altus between his mother… and Thane.

I grasped at the cape around my neck, tearing free of the suffocating layer and casting it aside. I shut my eyes, but all I could see was the collision of the hunchbacked Chancellor I knew and the younger man in the photo with slightly peppered hair, standing straight and tall with his left hand on Cace’s shoulder, the same gold ring on his finger as the one he wore today.

It was him. All along, it was⁠—

“Aiza,” the familiar voice creaked behind me. I whirled around.

There he stood, breathing heavy, swiping his disheveled, gray hair back into place as the door fell shut behind him.

“I get it now.” My words echoed through the hall as I addressed Thane. “Everyone gets to start over here. And in order to do that… ‘everyone has to forget the past.’ You weren’t scrubbed, but you made sure that Cace was. You made sure he forgot you.”

It took Thane a moment to comprehend my meaning, but I saw the flash of fear in his eyes as he began to grasp the possibility that I had just uncovered his greatest secret—greater than the Salvus Team’s mass casualty, greater than what he did to those passengers who disappeared years ago. This was the one secret he never wanted anyone to discover.

“He doesn’t know, does he?” I demanded. “Cace doesn’t know who you are… because you haven’t spoken to him since he was scrubbed.”

Thane looked me in the eye, wavering a moment before finally admitting the truth. “No. And you cannot tell him. Never. Understood?”

All this time, the father Cace spoke of, the one who had shut him out for most of his life… he was here. He was still doing it.

“You never made a deal with Cace,” I determined. “How could you have? I don’t know how you learned those things about me, but it wasn’t from him. You lied, again.”

“I had to put an end to this affair between you two somehow,” Thane bit out. “You wouldn’t listen to reason! It was for your own good and for his.”

“His own good?” I repeated indignantly. “How can you say that? You’re his father and he doesn’t even know you’re alive! You abandoned him in crew! You let them…”

“What?” Thane dared.

“You know what,” I returned rancorously.

“I told you, I didn’t know about that until it was already done!” Thane maintained. “Amon followed protocol!”

“Well maybe he wouldn’t have if he’d known who Cace is! But thanks to you, no one knows—not even Cace!”

“Believe me, it wasn’t how I wanted it!” Thane rebuffed. “To have no contact with Cace after he was scrubbed. But it was better than letting him die in those quakes, knowing I didn’t do everything in my power to save him!”

“This is your ship! You chose who was saved!”

“No, Aiza, that’s just it!” Thane repudiated. He glanced over his shoulder before going on, afraid of who might be listening on the other side of the doors. “I keep trying to tell you”—he lowered his voice—“it was never just up to me!”

“He thinks his father bought his place here.”

“I did!” Thane’s eyes were white flames, his cheeks red embers burning beneath them. “The Directive didn’t know where the money came from. They poured every cent they had into the project, and it got us close. But we needed more to finish the ship in time, and I needed a way to make sure that Cace was on it. So, a few months before the quakes hit, I enlisted the help of a prospective resident with a proclivity for hacking even the most secure systems untraceably. Together, we siphoned funds from private accounts, and then I made a sizable anonymous donation with the single stipulation that Cace had to be on the Aureate when it left the ground. The Directive didn’t know who the money came from, or who Cace was, but they were desperate, so they took both without question. He was living with his aunt and uncle when they collected him. They brought him here and took him straight to the scrubbing labs. I didn’t even get to speak to him.”

I eyed Thane, considering his admittedly sound account of events.

“Why couldn’t you at least tell Cace the truth?” I finally asked.

“Because if he knew the truth, it would only be a matter of time before others did, too,” Thane contended. “I told you, a lot of people in the Directive opted to eliminate Cace once we were off the ground, and if any of them ever found out he’s my son…” Thane didn’t deign to say it aloud. “There are many in the Directive whose loved ones they were forced to leave behind. I’ve made innumerable sacrifices for this ship and its mission, but Cace… I was never going to let him be one of them.” His pale eyes drove into mine with dire implication. “Cace’s only hope of surviving was if no one ever knew who he was—a plan that was working fine… until you. Clearly, no matter what I do, you two will just keep finding your way back to each other, and as I said last night, I’ve fought too hard for my son’s life to see it thrown away. Mark my words, Aiza, I will not let something happen to Cace because you couldn’t keep him out of this. That is why, by this time tomorrow, you won’t remember him… and he won’t remember you.”

So that was his plan—to rescrub us both.

“Cace deserves to know the truth,” I said, backing away. “If you won’t tell him, I will.”

“Aiza…” Thane moved toward me. I took another sweeping step back.

“I’m sorry, Thane,” I said. “This is one secret I won’t keep for you. If you want to keep me quiet… you’re going to have to catch me. Those commanders won’t find Cace. Not before I do.”

“You know where you can find me,” Cace’s voice beckoned again.

I turned to answer it, but then something Thane said froze me in place.

“You forget, Aiza… there is one commander who knows about the greenhouse.”

I shuddered, turning slowly. Niro. “You wouldn’t…”

“It’s already done,” Thane said almost dejectedly. “Cace snuck into a private Directive event to find you. That cannot go unanswered.”

Cace. I had to get to him.

Without wasting another moment, I kicked off my shoes, gathered up the layers of my dress, and then I did what I knew how to do best.

I ran.

I ripped the mask from my face and threw it to the ground. Its clatter against the polished floor faded into the distance, along with Thane’s shouts of protest as I raced toward the greenhouse with everything in me. I charged around sharp corners and bounded up steep stairwells. My lungs burned, but I did not stop running.

Nothing was going to stop me from getting to Cace and telling him the truth… before I was made to forget it.

“A safe space.” That was what Thane had called the greenhouse last night. “Far away from the listening walls…”

“He’s always watching. Always listening.” As Sorrell’s words clamored in my head, I couldn’t stop seeing those pinprick scars on her collarbone.

A bug. That was how Thane knew about the things I’d told Cace. If he could plant a bug on a person, who was to say he didn’t have thousands of bugs planted all over the ship? In the greenhouse? In my room, even?

My room. That was where I’d told Cace about the gates. And the poem.

Thane had been listening to me all along. I’d just never told anyone those things… until Cace.

The dresser. I knew I didn’t dream it. Thane did hear me tear it apart, and he sent someone to clean it up after I’d gone to sleep.

This morning… when I woke up… I knew something felt off. What had Thane done to ensure that I would stay asleep until the damage was cleaned up? All evidence of my mess erased… just in time for him to rescrub me?

As I belted toward the greenhouse to find Cace, all the pieces started fitting together with perfect concinnity. Cace was admitted into crew too young. He kept his necklace and the picture inside. He even kept his real name. And Thane let it all slide just to keep him off the Directive’s radar.

But Thane would never free Cace from crew. That status was the only barrier separating the two of them on this ship. And the reason Thane was so furious when he learned I had run off with Cace was not just because of Leo, or the plan, or even our difference in status. It was because, of all the people I could’ve defied Thane to be with, I chose his most guarded secret.

I charged up the penultimate flight of stairs and arrived at the top floor—utterly empty now with the Directive still sitting in that ballroom in a stupor over my latest stunt.

As I ran through the glowing, solitary, white halls… I heard a song playing.

“Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody,” Cace’s voice echoed as I recalled his fingers floating across the keys, playing this very tune.

“My father taught me to play,” he’d told me.

Classical pieces… like the ones Thane had such a predilection for.

The greenhouse didn’t belong to the Directive, I realized. It belonged to Thane, as did the piano, which he kept hidden deep within the walls of the maze. Just as he had done with Cace.

I skirted around the core and recalled what else Cace had told me about his father.

“He had always been distant, wrapped up in his job.”

But it wasn’t Thane’s job in the late Regna Primary’s court that kept him so preoccupied. It was the Aureate. Thane had spent over a decade engineering an escape from the inescapable. Cace didn’t know that, though. Not then and not now. Thane knew the secret had to be preserved if it was going to save them.

“He worked longer days, came home less and less. Even when he was home, he barely spoke to me.”

The Aureate had become the only world that mattered to Thane—a deliverance from the disaster.

“Then, one day, he left and just… never came back.”

I panted as I stood before that unassuming gray door, feeling suddenly conflicted. Right now, Cace believed his father died in the Exitus, and Thane was just… the man who took the bribe for his place here. Maybe that was better than knowing the truth—that his father had been here all along, that he had been the one to put him in crew.

But Cace deserved the truth, and I was the only one who was going to give it to him.

It had to be now, though. Tomorrow would be too late.

With that, I disentangled one of the crystal pins from my hair, dropped to my knees, and scrambled to pick the lock on the door. I heard it give, then dredged up the layers of my dress and raced up that spiral staircase. I burst out onto the terrace, my eyes burning in the daylight they had not been met by in over three years. I strained at the brightness, searching for Cace amidst the sheet of white.

Finally, my vision adjusted and I found him knelt in front of a wall of closed, violet buds.

No. My heart lurched in my chest. I’m too late.

His wrists were shackled to the iron trellis behind him, the bruise on his left cheek already starting to turn the same shade as the flowers. His bottom lip was split open, crimson droplets spattering his white uniform.

Niro stood over him… a pair of clenched, bloody knuckles at his sides.

Cace had tried to tell me that he wasn’t in collusion with Thane… and this was what it cost him. I didn’t even listen. I chose to believe Thane.

Never again.

“Cace!” I shrieked.

“Aiza?” My name was a strangled bellow from his bloodied lips. He tried to stand, but the trammels binding him to the iron lattice pulled him to his knees again.

“Stay put!” Niro brandished a blunt weapon and bashed him with it.

“Cace!” I raced to his side, but Niro swung the weapon at me, striking me square in the ribcage. “Ah!” I doubled over, the air driven clean out of me.

Niro crooked his head and grinned, grabbing me by the arm. “We have to stop meeting like this, Your Highness,” he sibilated, tossing both me and the baton to the ground.

Pain racked my ribcage as I fumbled for the iron frame and pulled myself up. My eyes went briefly to the baton on the ground, but before I could even think of making a move for it, I heard a daunting click.

“Careful, Your Highness,” Niro warned as I turned to face the stun gun aimed at me. He toggled the switch and the weapon lit up, emitting a high-pitched warble.

I started to raise my hands in surrender, then launched forward, ducking as the weapon fired and the charged slug flew overhead. It struck the iron chassis behind me, strands of white-hot energy shooting out and singeing the purple petals. I grabbed Niro’s wrist and employed a maneuver I’d learned from Tye to force his hand slack.

He yowled as the stun gun clattered to the ground.

I swiped it up and took off toward the maze.

“Stop!” Niro called. I ignored him, tripping on my own dress in my haste, scraping my palms and already bruised ribs on the stone ground. I clambered to my feet and kept running, air smarting through the torn silk of my dress.

“I said stop!” Niro’s demand was followed by the unsettling sound of a new weapon being discharged from his belt.

I froze, a chill running up my spine as my eyes fell to the stun gun in my hand, knowing it would be no match for the deadly firearm Niro had trained on me now.

I turned slowly, both hands lifted as I stared down the barrel of Niro’s gun.

“Drop it,” he commanded.

I did as he asked, dipping down slowly and setting the stun gun at my feet. “Are you going to kill me?” I asked, holding Niro’s glare behind the weapon as I rose again.

“I’m not going to kill you,” Niro snarled. “Those aren’t my orders.”

“What are your orders?” I tried to keep my voice steadier than my hands.

In answer, Niro merely flashed that menacing grin and pulled the trigger.

Bang! I flinched as the gun went off, the bullet soaring over my shoulder and lodging into the thick wall of glass behind me with a splintering crack!

“Aiza!” I heard Cace’s cry, but before I could answer—bang!—Niro’s gun went off again.

This time, the bullet penetrated the fractured glass, air screaming as it escaped through the vacuous hole.

“It’s about to get real hard to breathe in here.” Niro fleered over the whistling perforation. “I suggest you come with me.”

“Aiza!” Cace called out again.

“Shut it, drudge!” Niro turned the gun on him. “The next one goes through you.”

“No!” I shouted in a panic. “You don’t want to do that. Trust me.” My chest pounded as I stared at the cocked weapon aimed at Cace and recalled what Thane had said to me last night in Med. “Niro was not supposed to hurt you.”

Niro had a tendency to go rogue, and for all he knew, Cace was just another drudge from crew. However he had come by that gun, I knew there was nothing stopping him from pulling that trigger now.

Driven by that notion alone, I lunged forward, forcing the gun from his grip with the same maneuver I’d used to make him unhand the stun gun. The gun went off as it bounced onto the ground, the bullet caroming off one of the golden panes of the glass dome above. I scrambled for the weapon, my mind racing to remember the training I’d never had to utilize outside the range. I extracted the magazine, pulled back the slide to eject the chambered round and chucked both over the hedge of the maze.

“You!” Niro’s low growl thundered over the tintinnabulation of shells scattering across the stone. “You’re coming with me. Now.” He stormed toward me, pulling a pair of cuffs from his holster, seizing my arm and latching one of the manacles to my wrist.

I stole a split-second glance at the stun gun still lying on the pavement. It was close. Only a few feet away. All I needed was two seconds…

Quickly, before Niro could get the second manacle on, I elbowed him in the gut. He keeled over and I dove for the stun gun, clumsily snatching it up. I spun around and aimed it at Niro, blowing the hair out of my eyes and pulling the trigger, instantly lighting him up with fifty thousand volts.

Niro dropped to the ground, twitching and seizing, eventually losing consciousness as the last of the crackling current died away.

I flipped the safety back on, flung the stun gun aside and bent over, clutching my torso as a wave of pain ripped across my ribcage.

“Aiza!” My name tore roughly from Cace’s throat. “Are you hurt?”

“I’m okay,” I said, stumbling toward him.

“What are you doing here?” he rasped. “Shouldn’t you be at your wedding?”

A strained sound that was almost a laugh escaped me. “I was… but then I realized something… and I had to find you—ah!” I groaned, crashing to my knees.

“Aiza?” Cace tugged against his shackles.

“I’m here.” I crawled the last few feet to him and collapsed against his chest. He couldn’t put his arms around me, but he rested his cheek on my head. “I’m right here,” I panted, lifting my hands from my abdomen and glancing down to see blood spreading like scarlet ink across my silk dress. Not good.

I looked up at Cace. My chest wrenched at the bruise on his eye, the swollen weal on his lip. I took in the red staining both our white clothes. “This couldn’t have been what you had in mind when you asked me to promise that we’d come back here someday,” I said through coursing breaths.

Cace half smiled.

“I’m sorry, Cace,” I wheezed. “I never should’ve listened to Thane. I should’ve listened to you.” The unfastened manacle dangled from my arm as I lifted my hand to his cheek. “Cace… I have to tell you something. It’s important—ah!” I gasped, racked by another scend of splitting pain. My hand fell to his shirt collar and clutched it tight. I felt lightheaded, silver specks flocking my vision.

He’s here, Cace. He’s been here all along.

Despite the lengths I’d gone to, to get here and tell him that, I couldn’t seem to get the words out now. “I lied,” I said to him instead. “I don’t want to forget you.”

We waited in silence for the scourge of commanders to come for us. As the minutes passed, my condition worsened. I didn’t know if it was the oxygen escaping through the breach in the glass, or the blood leaching through the wound in my side, but I began to feel woozy. I tilted my head back, watching the clouds spin languorously above me.

In the daylight, I saw just how much the gilded panes that arced over the top of the ship resembled the domed top of a cage… like the one that immured those birds on the day the Exitus hit.

I shut my eyes and pressed my cheek to Cace’s chest, listening to his soft, steady heartbeat and trying not to think about the fact that come tomorrow, neither of us would have any memory of the other, or of anything outside of this ship. We would be like those birds, trapped contentedly in our cage, never comprehending the bounds of the world it kept us from.

I realized there was something else I wanted to tell Cace, while I could. But in the seconds it took for my voice to find its way out, Thane’s mocking words swiftly stole in, sabotaging my efforts. “You don’t even know what love is. You lived in twelve homes in thirteen years, and you spent most of that time running from them…”

He was right. Running was all I knew how to do. But Cace was the one person I ran to, and if these were our last moments together before we were made to forget, then I wasn’t going to let Thane steal another second.

“I love you, Cace.”

It came out so much quieter than I’d intended, but Cace must’ve heard me, because somewhere through the haze of my muddled senses, I heard him say, “I love you, too, Aiza,” and felt him kiss the top of my head.

That was when we heard the distant clang of commanders’ boots barreling up the stairs. Five of them came crashing through the door, wearing translucent-orange masks over their faces to shield them from the compromised air.

One of them started barking orders. His subordinate came and grabbed my arm with no regard for the injuries I’d already sustained. He saw the manacle dangling from my wrist and frowned, pivoting to find Niro sprawled near one of the iron lattices. He smirked slightly as he snapped the other cuff on and tried pulling me to my feet, but my cries quickly dissuaded him. He scooped me up in his arms instead, my bare feet and the train of my dress trailing over one of his burly arms, my head hanging limply over the other.

Through the dizzying, upturned chaos of black-clad figures shuffling around me, I saw two commanders march over to Cace. They unfettered him and pulled him to his feet.

“Aiza!” His muffled cry fell vaguely upon my ears as he struggled in their grip. “Take her to Med! She needs a doctor!”

But the commanders ignored him, dragging him toward the stairwell. It wasn’t until they were hauling him past me that I realized… I recognized one of those orange-tinted faces.

“Tye?” I uttered.

But if he heard, he ignored me, too. He kept his eyes forward, his expression impervious as he and his comrade carted Cace through the greenhouse door.

As the commander holding me followed them across the terrace, my gaze drifted up to the gold cage top. I thought of those birds on the ground—cursed, craven creatures flapping their wings unrelentingly until their cage finally crashed open and they all fled to that bleak, gray sky.

But the birds didn’t see it, in all their haste to flee from the prison that held them. They were free… with nowhere to go.

They had escaped their cage, but not the Exitus.

There is no escape from the Exitus.

One day we too would have to break free of our cage.

Whatever it takes. Whatever waits outside.

That was the last thought I had as the greenhouse door closed and the commander carried me down the stairs, the darkness devouring me.

PART TWO

A SHOW OF MASKS

I awoke to the haze of bright white again. Med.

Twice in two days. Must be a new record.

I blinked my fuzzy surroundings into focus—the white curtains enveloping me, the beeping, blinking machinery beside me, the strain of music playing overhead. Bach’s Cello Suite No. 1.

I reached across my abdomen, feeling the thick layer of bandaging under the stiff linen smock that had replaced my wedding dress. I pressed on my ribs and carped at the dull pain, then freed my arm from under the sheets, beholding the blue glow of my reactivated tag.

Figures.

I doubted I’d ever be allowed to drop from the grid again after this.

I lifted my left hand and fanned my fingers, observing the absence of the ring Leo had placed on it earlier. That figures too.

I tapped my tag for the time.

Sunday, December 12, 2134. 6:36 P.M.

I’d only been out for a few hours. My ribs didn’t hurt quite as much now, probably thanks to whatever was trickling into my veins through the IV drip lodged in my arm.

I gazed blearily at the needle rooted in my skin… and suddenly I remembered Thane’s threats to rescrub me.

I sat up with a jolt and frantically ripped out the needle, tape and all. I covered the bead of blood and shut my eyes, reciting the poem in my head. ‘Beware the bird you cage… Though it may sleep for the night… When dawn brings new light…’

I sank back down on the bed and breathed. My memories were still there. I remembered my name, the coin, the golden gates of Altus. Most importantly, I still remembered⁠—

Cace! I flung the covers off and shot to my feet, scrambling to disentangle myself from the rest of my leads. I gripped the curtain, steadying myself until the dizziness passed, then I tore it open and scanned the rows of white curtains all drawn aback to reveal empty beds.

Where is he?

I heard a pair of heels clacking up behind me. I looked over to find that same abrasively cheery doctor approaching. “Well, look at you! Up and about already!” she greeted exuberantly. “Can’t keep a good resident down!”

I couldn’t bring myself to respond, the volume of her voice only adding to the pounding in my head. She proceeded to explain that I’d undergone a mild oxygen treatment, that the scrapes on my stomach had been cleaned and sealed, but two of my left ribs were badly bruised and would take time to heal, and she was going to discharge me with a regimen of painkillers to take in the meantime. She then handed me a neatly folded uniform and added that as soon as I felt up to it, I was to change and report to Chancellor Thane’s office.

Naturally, I thought, as two commanders appeared beside her, ready to escort me.

I asked the doctor if a crew boy had been admitted with me, but she merely pursed her lips and said I was the only patient she’d seen today. I wasn’t sure if I believed her, but I felt too addled to press her for answers I knew I could wring from Thane.

It was after 7:00 P.M. by the time I was sitting alone at his desk in black warm-ups and a blue jacket. I was fiddling with the braid in the front of my hair when I heard the door open behind me. I turned, expecting to find Thane, but it wasn’t him.

“Cace?” I blurted, as a commander escorted him in.

“Aiza?” He sounded just as surprised as me.

As the commander left, Cace reached out and found the chair next to mine. I knew I should be concerned by the fact that Thane had summoned us here together, but I was too relieved that Cace still knew me.

He hasn’t been rescrubbed yet either, then.

I smiled as he slid into his seat, but I knew he couldn’t see it. I tried to say something, but I couldn’t seem to think of anything besides what I’d failed to tell him in the greenhouse. In the end, I just reached out and took his hand in mine.

“Are you okay?” he asked, clasping it tight.

“I’m fine.” I gulped. “You?”

“Yeah.” He tried to summon that bright smile, but it looked a little worse for wear with his injuries—the deep purple around his left eye, the stripe of blood crusted over his lower lip.

The silence dragged on the way it always seemed to in this office, but this time it was even less bearable, knowing what I knew. Cace was about to talk to his father for the first time in years, and he wouldn’t even know it.

“By the way,” Cace said, finally breaking the lull, “I never wished you a happy birthday.”

“Thanks.” I shook my head dismally. “Some birthday.”

“How was the wedding?” He turned to me. “Are you Mrs. Prince Charming now?”

“No,” I murmured. “We… didn’t make it that far.”

Cace nodded and faced forward, a smile sneaking quietly across his face. But just as quickly, a penitent frown slipped in and stole its place. “I never should’ve showed up there today,” he said. “Now you’re hurt. This wouldn’t have happened if⁠—”

“Stop,” I interrupted. “I’m glad you showed up when you did. I never should’ve believed Thane. I just… didn’t see how he could know about any of that if you didn’t tell him. But I do now. There’s nowhere we can hide from him… not even in the greenhouse—clearly,” I grumbled. “But…” I hesitated to say it, “you did walk away from me that night, afterwards.”

“I know.” Cace shut his eyes, furrowing his brow. “I was just… afraid of what Thane would do if he caught us together.”

“And then what? You changed your mind when you left me that note?”

Cace turned to me, his blue eyes narrowing sharply. “What note?”

“The…” I started to say, but something about the severity of his gaze gave me pause. “The note you left under my door. The one that said for me to meet you in the… greenhouse.” My face rumpled with self-admonition. “You didn’t leave the note.”

“You have round-the-clock guards at your door,” Cace said, reinforcing the truth I should’ve seen sooner. “I couldn’t go near your room. I mean, I tried… last night, but⁠—”

“I know,” I confessed. “I saw you… in the hall. But Thane was right around the corner, probably planting the note, so I couldn’t…” My voice fell out as suddenly another question came to mind. “Wait, then why were you going to my room last night?”

Cace lifted his broad shoulders in a prolonged shrug. “I just… wanted to see you one last time, before today. But Thane’s thugs intercepted me. They said that if I tried to go near you again, he’d have me executed. And now”—he gave a strange, skittish laugh—“I’m sitting in his office with you.”

“Cace… Thane won’t kill you.”

Cace propped his elbows on his knees, knitting his hands together anxiously. “I wouldn’t be so sure,” he muttered.

“I am sure. Whatever else he’s done… he won’t kill you.”

Cace turned to me, a suddenly stark look in his eyes. “You know.”

I stared at him, mouth agape. “You… you know?”

“Aiza, he’s my father,” Cace said, as if it was a known fact. “I may be scrubbed and blind, but I don’t need to see to remember that this is his ship, or that he’s the reason I’m on it. I just never wanted anyone else to know.”

“So… you’re…” I struggled to say it even now.

“Cace Thane, son of the inscrutable Casimir Thane.” Cace’s chest deflated as if he’d just confessed to a capital crime. “That’s me.”

As I stared at him, silently astounded, something he’d said to me the other night surfaced. When I’d tried to warn him that it was dangerous for him to be with me, that he didn’t want any part of this game Thane was playing, he’d said he was already part of it. He didn’t mean because he’d been punished for something I did. He meant that he was the one person on this ship whose life had always belonged to Thane.

I supposed this explained why he wasn’t afraid to tackle that commander to the ground the night I gave my speech, or to kiss me even after they shock-lashed him, or to bring me up to the greenhouse even after I warned him of the danger.

“This was what you tried to tell me at the wedding,” I realized aloud. “You said you lied about how you really got here.”

Cace nodded slowly. “I didn’t know how to tell you. I never wanted anyone here to find out who I am, but you…” He gestured toward me. “He’s taken more from you than anyone else. And I was just afraid that if you got too close…” He wavered, then started again. “We came down from that greenhouse and it just hit me—how much I had told you that I’ve never told anyone else. And I knew that if we kept going the way we were, eventually the truth would come out. That’s why I showed you my tag, why I left. I guess I hoped that if you learned what I was before you learned who I was, it would be enough to push you away… and then I wouldn’t have to. Because I knew, Aiza, that if it came to that… I couldn’t do it.”

As he said it, I thought back to that night, the two of us standing together in the blue glow of his Arc ID. “I know you think you’re his biggest secret,” he’d tried to explain, “but you’re not. I am. And he’ll do anything to make sure I stay buried.”

Then I remembered what he’d asked me earlier that night, just before he led me up those stairs, “You ready to see the Aureate’s best-kept secret? Well, second best?”

“Sure,” I’d laughed. “Wait, what’s the first?”

Cace was Thane’s greatest secret, not because he’d been taken on a bribe, but because he was the one living piece of Thane’s past that he’d brought with him onto the ship.

“I never wanted you to know.” Cace hung his head. “But… I couldn’t just let you go either. That’s why I tried to find you last night… and why I crashed the wedding today. I wanted to tell you the truth, but then…”

“Then I started yelling at you.” I winced, seeing now that if I had just listened to Cace instead of haranguing him for something he didn’t do, he might’ve had the chance to tell me the truth, and then I might not have run out on my own wedding to tell him what he already knew.

“I’m sorry I lied to you,” Cace said. “It’s just… if people knew who I was, especially in crew…” He left me to guess the rest. “Besides, he made it pretty clear that he didn’t want anyone knowing the truth either. Not even me.”

“So Thane doesn’t know that you know,” I inferred.

Cace shook his head.

“So… this…” I turned, facing the empty chair in front of us.

“This… will be interesting.” Cace clutched the arms of his own chair like he was bracing for impact.

Thane entered then, right on cue… almost as if he’d been listening to every word.

He’s always watching. Always listening.

This will be interesting…

The harbinger echoed as I watched Thane make his way over to his side of the desk, his strong, piney scent filling the air as he stared us down with those cold, gray eyes, utterly unaffected by Cace’s injured state.

Now that I was seeing the two of them together, I detected the resemblance. It was faint, with the decades that stood between them. Thane’s face was paler and more drawn, his cheeks sunken in, and of course, his colorless eyes held no trace of Cace’s vibrant blue—not anymore. But they were undeniably father and son.

Thane’s gaze volleyed between the two of us for a moment before landing decidedly on me—the easier of the two discourses to tackle, I presumed.

“Aiza.” His fricative tone sounded a mere pinprick away from total eruption. “It would appear you and I are at an impasse. You seem to be under the impression that you stand above consequence, that your acts bear no repercussions, so let me be unequivocally clear.” Those piercing eyes felt mere inches from mine as he warned, “You have one last chance. The next time you defy me, it will not just be you who will suffer for it. Mark my words, Aiza, your next act of subversion, however big or small, will not end well for anyone. I have dedicated my life to building the empire that lives and breathes within the walls of this ship, and I will not see it fall to upheaval just because you are displeased with your part in it.”

“I think everyone in this room is privy to your lifetime of dedication to this ship, Chancellor,” Cace interceded.

Thane reared his head, and I swear, if I didn’t already know of their relation, I would’ve gleaned it just from the look he foisted on his son in that moment. Cace’s entire childhood was perhaps emulated in that single, scathing look.

Then Thane turned his glare to me. “You told him.”

“No one had to tell me,” Cace cut in again. “Maybe the scrub isn’t quite as inerrant as you’d like to think it is.”

“Cace, I couldn’t very well let y⁠—”

“Don’t,” Cace cut him off. “Don’t pretend we have anything to say to each other. The fact that you and I haven’t spoken in all the years we’ve been on this ship together pretty much says it all. But hey”—Cace scoffed caustically—“it’s not like we saw a lot of each other on the ground either.”

“That was for your protection!” Thane contested. “I couldn’t see you! They wouldn’t let me.”

“Who?” Cace demanded.

Thane huffed. “I keep trying to tell you both. Despite what you think, the Aureate does not belong solely to me.”

“Yes, it does!” Cace launched to his feet, knocking his chair back. “This ship is your world, and you never wanted either of us in it! Nothing has changed!”

Thane’s expression turned tenebrous. “Who are you talking about?”

“You know who!” Cace lunged forward, slamming his hands down on the glass top. “She’s not here!”

No… I was amazed the word didn’t fall right out as I watched them face off with one another and recalled the blonde woman standing on the other side of Cace in that photo.

I looked down at the gold band on Thane’s left hand. Cace’s mother.

“Oh, Cace.” Thane frowned. “You truly don’t remember, do you?”

Cace didn’t say anything. He just stood there, fists at his sides.

“Be thankful, Cace,” Thane said. “Forgetting is a gift. And it is one that I’m obliged to live without.” A haunted look passed over his gray eyes as he explained, “It was too late for your mother when the Exitus hit… far too late. She was sick. She passed more than a year before the quakes even touched Eiena. You were living with your aunt and uncle in Battan when I sent for you.”

Cace bit his lip, a fresh drop of red forming over the cut. “You’re right,” he said. “I don’t remember. You made sure of that. But why would I believe you wanted me here, when you were so quick to leave after the accident?”

“Is that what you think?” Guilt overwhelmed Thane’s features. “I didn’t leave because of you, Cace. The end made people desperate. When they started hearing rumors about a way out, I began receiving threats, not just against me, but my family. I left to keep you safe. It wasn’t easy to stay away, but it was the only way I could protect you. Everything I did was to protect you.”

Cace twisted his lips. “So… my aunt and uncle,” he finally said, “you just left them behind?”

Thane’s upper lip twitched. “The Aureate is a very meticulous system—a network of carefully chosen constituents designed to⁠—”

“It was your design!” Cace burst. “You could’ve saved anyone!”

“I couldn’t save everyone!” Thane slammed his hands down. “You don’t understand the difficult choices that had to be made, but they were made a long time ago, and believe it or not, they were not only made by me! Just be thankful that I found a way to save you!”

“Yeah,” Cace sneered, “and then you dumped me in crew. Look, you have the only thing you’ve ever really cared about.” He gestured to Thane’s seat of power. “Just leave me and Aiza out of it!”

“I can’t leave her out of it! There is a plan for her, Cace, and you were never part of it! You need to stay away from her!”

“You mean stay away from you. Because you don’t want people finding out that your son is the one who was never supposed to be here!”

“Shhh!” Thane pressed a finger to his lips. That strange, paranoid look possessed his silver eyes again as they flashed to the hallway.

I looked over my shoulder, but once again, I didn’t see anyone.

“Yes,” Thane yielded, “I bought your place. And I kept our lives here separate for the same reason I did so on the ground—to protect you. You were supposed to have forgotten me.”

“Fine,” Cace said. “Let’s go back to forgetting each other. I’ll go back to crew. I’ll stay out of your way, if that’s what you want. But you have to let Aiza go, too.”

“I don’t have to do anything,” Thane riposted. “Let me remind you both of something you seem to forget. As long as we are on this vessel, you both belong to me. To my point, Aiza”—he stepped around the desk and seized my right wrist, pushing up my sleeve to display that neon-blue ring—“your tag’s been reactivated. Leo’s too. Remember that,” he snarled as he unhanded me. “And be ready for an early start tomorrow. We still have that announcement to make. And I suppose we’ll be crowning you as well… since we never got around to it today.”

“Leo and I weren’t married,” I pointed out.

Thane sighed impatiently. “There was a wedding. You walked down the aisle and one of you said ‘I do.’ As far as those watching tonight’s broadcast will see, it all went according to plan—barring, of course, your indecorous exit. But remember, if you do not follow those cards to the letter tomorrow, the entire ship will suffer for your insubordination. I don’t want to have this conversation again. Both of you are to stay away from each other.” His pale eyes shifted to Cace, then back to me. “And you stay out of my greenhouse,” he added, then gestured to the door behind us. “Ah, right on time.”

I turned to find the commander waiting to escort us out. Tye.

He wasn’t wearing an orange mask anymore, but he still had that strange look in his eye—distant, vacuous, and at the same time… intensely focused on something.

“Take them both,” Thane instructed him. “See that this resident is returned to her room. The commanders posted at her door will make sure she does not leave it until tomorrow.”

I knew that part was more for my benefit than Tye’s.

“As for him”—Thane nodded coldly to Cace—“straight to his floor below. He won’t give you any trouble.”

Like that, Cace was just another crew member again—one who had flouted the rules.

Tye nodded dutifully and ushered us through the glass doors with stiff, mechanical movements. He wouldn’t look at me. He just stared straight ahead with unshakable, laser-sharp focus—the kind usually only reserved for when he had a gun in his hand.

I felt a cold panic push through me as I realized there could only be one explanation for this drastic shift in demeanor.

Tye… what did Thane do to you?

Perhaps the better question was… What did you see that he didn’t want you to remember?

Tye escorted us to my room first. Kyla was waiting outside, exhibiting all her usual signs of impatience—arms folded, foot tapping, sighing at the wall.

“Finally!” She threw her arms up when she saw us coming. “Where have you been?” She came over and noticed Tye clutching my arm. “What did you do now?” She glowered at me, then noted who else was with us. “Never mind. I think I can guess. You must be Cace,” she said to him. “I’m Kyla, Her Highness’s security.”

“Nice to meet you,” Cace mumbled, under the circumstances. “If you’re waiting on a handshake,” he added, “I can’t see it.”

Kyla smirked. “I wasn’t. Nice eye, by the way.”

Cace pressed a finger to his bruised lid. “Thanks.”

Kyla turned to Tye. “Hey, thanks for keeping tabs on her up there. I’ll take it from here.”

She started away, and I knew I was meant to follow, but Tye’s grip on my arm tightened.

Kyla doubled back. “Tye, I’ve got her now.” She sounded irritated. Then, when Tye still wouldn’t let me go, she seemed utterly confused.

She doesn’t know.

“Tye, I said I’ve got her,” she repeated, but Tye still stood there like a brick wall.

“Copy that,” he finally said, but only in response to the voice hailing him on the other end of his earpiece. He released me, maintaining a cold scowl. “See that this resident returns to her suite immediately,” he addressed Kyla. “You will thereby be relieved of duty and required to report to your suite for curfew, seven-five-three-four-three-two.”

Kyla raised a single brow. “Excuse me?”

“I said you are relieved of your supervisory duties until further notice,” Tye repeated. “Orders from the Chancellor. Restrictions to your access will become effective tonight at curfew.”

With that, Tye turned and started leading Cace away.

“Tye!” Kyla called out, to no avail. He and Cace vanished around the corner.

In a huff, Kyla marched over to my door. “Rowan! Maddox!” she barked at the guards. “You’re supposed to be at dinner. You’d better get down there before you miss it. The Chancellor sent me to keep an eye on things until you get back.”

Maddox shot Rowan a skeptical look. Rowan simpered at Kyla. “We’re not supposed to be anywhere but here. We have the late slot for dinner. Nice try though, Commander.”

“Fine.” Kyla shrugged. “I’m just telling you what the Chancellor said. Where do you think I just came from? You might want to double check your schedules.”

I braced as they both tapped their tags, realizing she was bluffing. Before they could even glimpse them, though, Kyla snatched the stun gun from Rowan’s holster and pulled the trigger. The slug latched onto his vest, sending a powerful jolt of electricity through him. As he dropped to the ground, convulsing, Maddox went for his stun gun, but Kyla stunned him too.

She stood over the indisposed guards, sliding the stun gun into her belt, then she scanned her tag and opened my door, waving me inside.

“I can’t believe he fired me.” Kyla was still seething twenty minutes later, lolled across the foot of my bed, fidgeting with a pillow like she was trying to slowly torture it to death.

“Kyla…”

“What?” she snipped, curling her fist around it.

I reached over and took the pillow, forcing her to sit up and look at me as I ventured to share my theory. “What if Tye was… rescrubbed?”

Kyla turned pale, her eyes instantly filling with a compelling sadness. As hard as it was for me to accept that Tye’s memories had been wiped, it had to be that much harder for her. Tye was my friend. He was her world. And now she was nothing more than an ID number to him.

Unfair. That word sprang to mind again, and suddenly I felt the need to warn her what was coming. “Thane says he’s going to rescrub me tomorrow,” I said. “Cace, too.”

Kyla blinked. For a moment, I couldn’t tell what she was thinking. Then, too easily, she shrugged and said, “Maybe that’s not such a bad idea.”

I shot her a look of abhorrence.

“Look, I’m just saying, you wouldn’t be in all this trouble in the first place if you had just let the crew kid go like Thane told you to.”

Now it was reprehension that marked my silent stare.

“I know, I know.” She rolled her eyes. “But, Aiza, if you keep going like this, he could end up disappearing, too. In fact, it’s a wonder he hasn’t already. Thane doesn’t usually have a three-strike policy for crew members. He killed a commander for less.”

“He won’t kill him,” I uttered.

“How do you know?”

“Because he’s Thane’s son.” The words were out before I could stop them.

Kyla’s reaction was stalled, but after a moment of consideration, she turned down the corners of her mouth and nodded. “Makes sense.”

“You can’t tell anyone I told you,” I begged. “Especially not Cace.”

Before she could answer, a loud, assertive knock came at the door.

“I’ll take care of this.” Kyla shot to her feet.

I watched in suspense as she crossed the room. What if Rowan or Maddox had woken up? What if Tye had returned with backup? What if Thane had come down here himself? Again?

“Oh,” was all Kyla said when she opened it. “It’s you.”

She pushed the door open the rest of the way and stepped aside so I could see who it was.

“Cace!” I leapt up and ran to him.

“Easy,” Kyla groaned as we collided. “You just saw each other twenty minutes ago.”

“How did you get away from Tye?” I asked.

“The giant commander?” Cace returned.

I smiled. “Yeah, him.”

Cace knit his brow perplexedly. “Yeah, that was… weird. He took me down to the crew floors. But then he just… left. No lecture. No warning. So, I waited a few minutes, and then I came back up here.”

“I’m… just going to step outside,” Kyla said, inching toward the door, “make sure those goons aren’t going to wake up anytime soon.” She tapped the stun gun at her hip and slipped into the hall.

Cace shot me an inquisitive look.

“Kyla stunned my door guards,” I said. “They’re passed out on the floor.”

He laughed. “I was just going to ask if that was a person I tripped on outside.”

Suddenly, an influx of white noise came streaming through the P.A. speaker on my wall.

“Attention all passengers of the Aureate,” the robotic voice severed through the static, “please tune in at nine P.M. this evening for the viewing of Regna Primaries Ileon and Azara’s wedding. Due to scheduling complications, the coronation ceremony has been postponed, and will now take place at the ten A.M. assembly tomorrow. We once again remind you that all classes are required to attend. No exceptions. Thank you.”

“‘Scheduling complications,’” Cace mocked as the voice cut out. “Convenient.”

I didn’t respond, too distracted by the leering glow of Cace’s tag. Thane would know he was here. A fresh brood of commanders was sure to turn up at my door any minute. I needed to tell him everything now, while I could.

“Cace,” I said, “about tomorrow…”

“Aiza, you won’t be rescrubbed,” Cace assured me. “We won’t let that happen.”

“It’s not just me.” I knit my fingers into his. “He plans to rescrub us both.”

An array of flustered feelings flashed across Cace’s face. We said we couldn’t forget each other, but deep down we both knew… it would only take scrubbing a few days’ worth of memories to make it as though we’d never met.

“Do we believe him?” I asked. “Do you think he’d rescrub you?”

“Yes, but we’re not letting him do that,” Cace said obstinately.

“How are we going to stop him?”

“We’ll figure something out.”

“Cace, as soon as I make that announcement tomorrow…”

“What is this announcement?” Cace asked the imminent question. “Let me guess—another grounding delay?”

“Not exactly…” I murmured, my chest churning with the secret I knew I couldn’t keep much longer. But for all I knew, Thane was still listening to us.

Thankfully, Cace had something to get off his chest too. “I knew where he went,” he said. “My father… when he left. I knew about the ship.”

“You… knew about the Aureate?”

Cace nodded. “He brought me to see it when I was younger, when it was still under construction in the Dead Zone. He said he wanted me to understand that we didn’t have to be afraid like everyone else, but it was a secret. If I ever told anyone about it, even my mother, it would disappear. I believed him,” he admitted. “I always blamed myself that she wasn’t here. I thought maybe if I had just told her… But I guess now I know—she was never going to make it here.”

“You think he was telling the truth about that?” I asked reluctantly.

“I don’t want to,” Cace said. “But with the ecosystem in free fall, a lot of people got sick at the end. Some never recovered. I think I remember my aunt taking me to visit her at the hospital.” He frowned, the memory returning. “I spent so long trying to remember leaving her,” he said. “It never occurred to me that she was already gone. I can’t even remember what she looked like now.”

“She was beautiful,” I mentioned on a whim. Cace shot me a flummoxed look. “The uh… picture in your necklace,” I explained. “You have her smile.”

He clasped the gold pendant at his chest, allowing that smile to break through, and it was then I realized… it had belonged to her.

“Cace…” I couldn’t believe I was going to say this, but something told me he needed to hear it. “For all the things your father is, and all the things he’s done, he’s still the reason we’re alive.”

Cace nodded, but he remained quiet for a long time. Then, finally, he turned to me and asked, “Do you remember what I said the night we met? That one day we’ll all get off this ship and go back to the ground, and things will change? They’ll be better out there?” He shook his head. “I’ve been telling myself that for years—that one day we’ll go back and he won’t be in control anymore. But it’s not true, is it? Even when we ground, we’ll never stop running from him.”

I knew I couldn’t give him the answer he wanted—not when I knew the permanence of these walls that barricaded us from the world outside. But I couldn’t bring myself to tell him the truth either. Instead, I reached up and brushed the uninjured side of his face. “Hey,” I said, “one day we’ll leave this place behind. We’ll go somewhere no one can find us. It’ll just be me and you. That’s the end of the road.” I slid my other hand gently across his bruised cheek. “One day none of this is going to matter.”

Cace reached up and folded his fingers into mine, his jaw jutting slightly. “When?” He sounded tired, so tired of asking that question.

“I don’t know.” I shook my head, wishing I could forget what I knew. “Just stay with me until then. Don’t leave me, okay?”

“I won’t,” he promised, pulling me close.

I pressed my cheek to his chest, listening to his soft, steady heartbeat and wishing more than anything that whatever else tomorrow held, I wouldn’t have to forget him.

“So,” I said as we faced each other again, “all these years… you just let residents order you around and kick buckets of dirty water at you… and you never told anyone who you are?”

Cace shrugged. “I didn’t think it would—wait… you saw that?”

“Yeah.” I winced, realizing the confession I’d made too late. “I was on my way to training that morning… when Sorrell⁠—”

“Sabotaged me in front of half the ship?” He gave a surly scoff.

“She knows how to put on a show, I’ll give her that,” I commented. “Thane should have given her the crown.”

“Don’t even joke about that.” Cace laughed.

We were still laughing when the door creaked open, a narrow stream of light spilling in from the hall outside. Kyla peered around the door in her black tank top, not having wasted any time ditching her jacket.

“Break it up, you two.” She pointed at us. “Someone’s here to see you.”

Before I could ask who, Kyla swung the door open… and in walked the last person I ever expected to cross the threshold to my room.

I gulped, hoping she hadn’t just heard us talking about her.

Sorrell had barely stepped through my door when she saw Cace standing next to me and stopped short, her cheeks flushing. She, too, was back in uniform, and faced her boots, looking as though she suddenly wanted to be anywhere else. Clearly, she wasn’t expecting to find us both here.

“S-Sorrell,” I stammered.

“Speak of the devil…” Cace muttered under his breath.

Kyla clapped her hands together. “Okay, you three have fun. If anyone needs me, I’ll be out here… in case we get any more drop-ins.” She aimed a glare at Sorrell before ducking out again.

“So”—Sorrell pointed between Cace and I once we were alone—“this is why you bolted today?”

“It’s not what you think…” I fumbled to explain, but Sorrell didn’t give me the chance.

“Look, you don’t have to explain it to me.” She waved dismissively. “I’m not here about that.”

I waited for her to say why she was here, but she didn’t seem to be in any hurry. As the silence stretched on, I stole a glance at her collarbone. I could just barely make it out under the shadow of her partially unzipped jacket—the tiny ring of scars where the bug had been removed. Thane hadn’t re-implanted it—not yet anyway.

Sorrell noticed me staring and flicked her hair over it. “Thane thought the bug would look a little conspicuous up there,” she explained irritably.

“Why were you up there with me today?” I asked, recalling my surprise to find her standing there beside Leo in a mask just like mine as I marched to the altar.

Sorrell sighed. “Because Thane wanted someone close to you. A commander would’ve been too obvious, and since I’m the only resident who knows who you are⁠—”

“But why?” I interrupted.

“Oh, just in case you did something like… run away before making it through the I do’s.” She smirked.

“And what were you supposed to do about it?” I scoffed, too stunned by the absurdity of the plan to even be insulted. “Tackle me to the ground?”

“Not in front of the cameras.” Sorrell blinked. “And only long enough to tag you with this.” She reached into her pocket and pulled out a scanner with a ring of yellow light at the top, like the one Thane had used to deactivate my tag before.

“Sorrell…” I said, already angling for it, “do you know what you’re holding?”

“Not so fast.” She yanked it out of my reach. “Before you start drooling over it, you should know it’s only programmed to reactivate your tag without a code. Thane wanted to be able to track you down if you took off.” She slipped the scanner back into her pocket and smiled. “He said he would’ve chained you to that altar if he could find a way to hide it from the cameras. I thought he was being dramatic, but then”—she laughed, like the whole fiasco suddenly struck her as hilarious—“then it actually happened! I mean, you flew out of there! And then Thane started chasing you, which was fine with me.” She shrugged. “He wasn’t in heels.”

She looked at me, her smile paling slightly.

“That still doesn’t explain why you’re here now,” I said.

Sorrell rolled her eyes. “I just wanted to thank you… for not telling anyone about what you saw the other night…”

As her voice tapered off, I caught on. She wasn’t really thanking me. She just wanted to be sure that I hadn’t told Thane about whoever I’d found her arguing with that night. Honestly, I’d nearly forgotten about it.

“Sorrell,” I huffed apathetically, “I promise, I haven’t told anyone, and I won’t. But you should go now. If Thane catches you here…” I gestured to her tag, then trailed off, knowing I didn’t really have grounds to ask her to leave with Cace here.

Sorrell ignored my suggestion and took a step closer, studying me. “You know, all this time, I thought you were Thane’s little pet,” she muttered derisively. “I thought you were like him. But then… you did that!” She swept out her hand, indicating how I’d fled my own wedding. “I get it now.” Her green eyes moved over me like a complex equation she’d just solved. “You hate it here just as much as the rest of us. Thane forced you into this, didn’t he?”

As I struggled to reply, her lips split into a grin. “I guess I owe you an apology for all those years of torment,” she said, something like sincerity slipping into her tone. “I was wrong about you.” Then she turned to Cace and said, “I owe you one, too… for the other day.”

“It’s okay,” Cace said. “I hear you’ve done worse.” He smiled at her speechlessness. “Yeah, in crew sometimes we all just sit up late at night, plotting our revenge from our bunk beds. We have a club.”

Sorrell went pale. I caught my laugh too late.

“Look,” I stifled my own smile and said to her in all seriousness, “I get why you thought Thane and I were the same. But you’re right. I never wanted any of this. Maybe that’s why I thought it was all I could do… to just stand by and let Thane run the show. But…”

I looked at Cace, at the bruising around his eye, to say nothing of the burns on his back. I looked at Sorrell, that small ring of scars marring her collarbone. I thought of Leo, and the cluster of needle marks on his arms, the isolation he’d endured. I thought of Tye’s brother, who wasn’t even given a fighting chance here, and how Tye and Kyla had been living in fear every day because of it. And now Tye’s mind had been wiped blank, simply because he saw something he shouldn’t have.

The Aureate had left us all with scars. These scars would never heal as long as Thane was allowed to remain at the helm. We couldn’t go on like this. All those things I’d said to Cace about leaving this place behind melted like snow in the desert sun. That day was far, far away… if it was ever coming.

Kyla told me to play my part, to wait until I had all the pieces. But she also told me not to let Thane turn me into something I didn’t want to be.

“Thane makes it seem impossible, but you have a choice.”

Maybe I didn’t have all the pieces yet. Maybe I never would. But if I was going to make a choice, it had to be now. Tomorrow would be too late. After tomorrow, everyone would know the truth. After tomorrow, I would be a blank slate, a mouthpiece for Thane and all his lies. After tomorrow, the passengers would become trapped in his web of deceit indefinitely and I’d lose my chance to fight back. I couldn’t let that happen. But the only way to stop it… was to do the very thing Tye and Kyla had warned against. I had to take Thane’s power.

“Someone has to stand up to him,” I said. “Here and now. We can’t wait until we ground. That will be too late. We have to find a way to break Thane. Tonight.”

Kyla burst into my room, evidently listening from the hall. She and Cace started cornering me with a jumble of protests.

Sorrell smirked at me silently, an expression which in her case could mean anything. Finally, once Cace and Kyla’s objections piddled out, Sorrell spoke up. “You’re going to take on Thane?” she challenged with no change in countenance. “How?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted.

“Aiza, think this through.” Kyla took me by the shoulders and warned exigently, “Remember Lucas.”

“I am,” I said, disentangling myself from her grip. “Lucas… and everything else is exactly why we have to do something now, or we’re going to spend the rest of our lives like this. You’re the one who told me I had a choice in all this,” I pointed out.

“I didn’t mean stage a coup to overthrow Thane and the Directive in one night!” Kyla rebutted. “I’ve said it before—Thane is the one person I can’t protect you from. You haven’t been crowned yet. He could still replace you.”

“He won’t. Look,” I explained, “after everything I’ve done, I still haven’t been executed, or locked up. Even after what I did at the ceremony today, I woke up in a Med bed, not a cell. I don’t think Thane implemented the mask so he could replace me, or he would have by now. I don’t know why, but… I think he needs me.”

Kyla cut me a skeptical glance.

“He can rescrub me, though,” I added. “That’s why this assembly tomorrow is my last chance to tell people the truth about him.”

“What truth?” Cace’s tone spiked with panic that I might be plotting to divulge the secret he and Thane had both just agreed to keep inhumed.

“Yeah, what truth?” Kyla echoed obliviously. “It’s not like the scars on his back”—she pointed to Cace—“or Lucas’s death, or even the fact that he kept one of his Primaries locked in a cage for three years will be enough to make the whole ship revolt against him.”

“I’m sorry, what?” Cace cut in, I assumed in reference to the part about Leo.

“Kyla, how do you know about that?” I asked, fairly certain that I hadn’t told her.

Kyla didn’t answer. Instead, her eyes widened at something behind me. “Speaking of…” She pointed to my doorway. “You have another visitor.”

I whirled around. The sight of him standing there in his blue uniform made my heart skip a beat. “Leo.”

Leo cleared his throat. “Are you aware that you have two unconscious commanders out here?”

“What are you… d-doing here?” I sputtered.

“Chasing after my run-away bride, I guess.” Leo laughed faintly.

As he came into the room, I tried to laugh too, but all I felt was guilt sitting like lead weight on my lungs.

Admittedly, I wasn’t expecting to have to face him so soon.

“I just came to make sure you were okay,” Leo said, “you know, after…”

I glanced nervously at Cace. He stood against the wall, a thinly veiled glower in his eyes.

Then my gaze went to the sliver of blue light peeking out from Leo’s sleeve. As promised, he was back on the grid now, too.

“I’m fine,” I assured him, “but you should probably…” The words left me as suddenly another figure appeared in my doorway, blocking the light.

I stumbled back as he strode brazenly into my room and locked eyes with me, his expression unreadable.

“Tye…” I uttered.

Then, inexplicably, a friendly smile broke through his stolid scowl. “Hey, kiddo,” he said.

I blinked. “Tye, how…? What… was that earlier? You were acting like…”

“Like a blackvest?” He winced.

“Like you’d been rescrubbed.” I looked to Kyla, hoping she’d back me up, but she just stared at him.

“Is that what you thought?” Tye’s question wasn’t directed at me. His eyes pleaded with Kyla, but she wouldn’t answer. “Look, I’m sorry if I scared you,” Tye said fervently. “I just… had to sell it, make it look like I was following orders. I didn’t want to lose my new assignment.” He gave Leo a stiff pat on the back. Leo stumbled forward a little, giving a lopsided smile.

“Wait… Leo is your assignment?” I blurted. Then it hit me. The commander I saw with Leo in the Mess that first day… it was Tye. He’d passed me so fast, I barely glimpsed him, but it would explain how Tye knew about Thane’s plans for me before I did. And how Kyla knew about Leo’s imprisonment. They both knew more than they let on. “So… you’re Leo’s…”

“I’m his security,” Tye supplied. “Or babysitter, if we’re using Kyla’s word.” He smiled at her. She maintained a glare that promised not to forgive him for a long time.

“Look.” Tye turned to me. “You remember at your inaugural, when you went rogue and everything got cut short? Thane snapped his fingers and a fleet of commanders moved in to detain you.”

I shot him a vicious look. Yeah, Tye, I remember.

“Well,” Tye continued quickly, “those commanders had to know whose authority they were really under, while you were being introduced as Primary. Thane calls us the Regna Garrison, which, to any commander who isn’t one of us, just means we’re security for those events. But really, we’re the only ones who know the truth about what you are—a version of it anyway. And even fewer of us know who you are.”

I looked to Kyla. “Is this true?”

She shrugged. “Garrison, security, babysitter—it’s all the same. But I’m not any of those things anymore.” She shot Tye an accusing glare. “Not since you fired me.”

Tye smiled, perhaps just relieved she was speaking to him now. “Thane fired you,” he clarified. “He just made me tell you.”

“Yeah, well”—she folded her arms indignantly—“you were convincing.”

“I had to be.”

“Why?” she demanded. “Thane was nowhere near us when you were giving me that by-the-book spiel!”

“I know. But I had to follow orders in case he was…” Tye hesitated a moment before he uttered, “watching.”

My gaze snapped to him.

“How would he be watching?” Kyla challenged.

“I don’t know,” Tye admitted. “I can’t explain it, but… it’s like he’s got eyes and ears everywhere. I know it sounds crazy,” he added, heeding Kyla’s dubious expression.

“It is crazy, Tye,” she rejoined.

“No, it’s not,” my voice carried across the room. All eyes fell on me. “Tye’s right,” I said. “Somehow, Thane always knows… about things he couldn’t get just from our tags.” I opted not to go into detail about the secrets I’d told Cace, or about me losing my mind last night and turning my dresser inside-out. “I don’t know how, but somehow”—I looked to Cace, taking his words from earlier—“Thane always knows about everything.”

“It’s true,” Cace vouched.

“It is,” Sorrell confirmed.

“See?” Tye motioned. “That’s why I had to be careful.” He turned from Kyla and addressed me, “This gig with you and Leo is one I’d actually like to keep.”

“Easy for you to say,” Kyla grumbled. “You got the easy one.”

“Cace.” Tye placed a firm hand on his shoulder. “Sorry about earlier. Hope I didn’t rough you up too much.”

Cace shrugged. “Wasn’t the first time I’d been detained by a commander. Or the worst.”

A grim silence commanded the room after that comment, all of us knowing exactly what he was referring to. I was the first to break it, the reminder of that night spurring another question. “Is Niro in your garrison?” I practically spat his name.

“Unfortunately,” Tye grumbled.

“And Rowan and Maddox?” I gestured to the comatose guards out in the hall.

Tye nodded. “Pretty much any commander who’s ever been allowed near you.”

Suddenly the lights in my room dimmed and the projection dowel lowered from my ceiling, clicking and whirring until the words flashed brightly into the dark:

Mandated Broadcast

The words blinked away and then, rather than Thane’s likeness greeting us as it usually did, it was Leo and I who filled the chromatic glow of the holo-screen, dancing together in our lavish wedding ensembles and masks.

“You two make quite the couple,” Sorrell commented. Then she glanced over her shoulder, observing the way Leo and I stood at opposite ends of the room now, and she gave a small grunt of embarrassment.

I chanced a look at Cace. His head was turned down as the cloying music played, the room saturated in the lurid, gamboling light of the broadcast being viewed by the whole ship—a convivial compilation of me spinning in Leo’s arms, surrounded by giddy Directive spectators.

Of course, they showed no footage of me spotting Cace in the crowd and freezing in the middle of the dance floor, forgetting to breathe, or of me stumbling out after him. And of course, we didn’t see a single glimpse of me flying out of the ballroom as fast as I could when it came to the I do’s, leaving Leo alone at the altar.

Thane was right. As far as anyone watching this could tell, the day went according to plan—a perfect, dignified wedding. Thane had inveigled me into doubting Cace just long enough for me to go on smiling and dancing blissfully in Leo’s arms and⁠—

Wait…

Suddenly, I remembered something Leo had asked me on that dance floor. “Doesn’t it all seem a little backwards? Isn’t the party supposed to happen after the wedding?”

Then I thought of what Sorrell said—that she was only up there with me today so she could reactivate my tag before I got away… and suddenly it hit me. I was the reason the ceremony came last. Thane wanted to get plenty of usable footage of this day before I did something to upend it. He knew I was going to run, and when, even before I did.

“I know you,” his voice bristled in my ear, “perhaps better than you know yourself.”

I shuddered as the broadcast ended in a final, flashing reminder:

A mandatory assembly will be held tomorrow at 10:00 A.M. in the Assembly Hall.

Silence befell the room as the lights came back up—the kind of protracted silence that had everyone waiting anxiously for someone to break it.

“Leo”—I spun around to face him—“we can’t go through with this tomorrow.”

I knew Thane could be listening, but I didn’t care. Nowhere on the ship was safe from him. I knew that now. Let him come for me if he wants, I thought. Nothing he can do to me now is worse than what he’ll do to me tomorrow.

Leo’s gaze shifted between me and the rest of the room. “Aiza,” he said, “I don’t like it any more than you do, but we don’t have a choice. Should we really be having this conversation right now?”

“It has to be now,” I said. “We have to do something, tonight, or else we’re going to be trapped here like this… maybe for a long time.” My eyes widened, insinuating the secret we were still harboring for Thane.

Leo sighed helplessly.

“Aiza, what have I been telling you?” Kyla stepped in to talk me down, since Leo wasn’t going to. “You can’t go up against Thane. You won’t win.”

“I know I won’t win alone,” I returned. “But there are nineteen thousand five hundred other people on this ship whose lives have been dictated by the Directive from the moment they boarded. We just have to give them a reason to take their lives back. If we show them what Thane’s done, what he’s going to keep doing to us as long as we’re here⁠—”

“Aiza, they know what he’s done,” Cace cut in. “It’s why they’re afraid of him. Anything you try to tell people will only reinforce that.” He struggled to sift out the words. “It won’t matter what you say. The Chancellor”—he made a point to avoid any familial terms—“is an expert at covering secrets with lies. You know that as well as I do.”

My eyes peeled off to Kyla. Don’t you dare say anything, I warned silently.

“If it comes down to our word against his,” Cace went on, “we’ll lose. He’ll twist everything you say until he’s laudable again, and we’ll be put back in our place… or worse. That’s how it always ends with him.”

I knew he was right. Thane flicked his silver tongue and had me believing, at least for a night, that Cace was the liar and I was the one at fault for believing him.

“So we won’t use words,” I said. “We’ll do something else.”

“Like what?” Kyla dared. “What are you going to do? Look, I know it’s not fair, but like I said, for now, you just have to⁠—”

“It won’t just be for now!” I snapped, unable to hear those words one more time from someone who didn’t know what I knew. “This is never going to stop.” I was speaking to myself as much as anyone listening. “The only reason people still follow the Directive’s orders is because they still think they saved us! They don’t know the truth. The Directive didn’t save us from anything.”

Cace drew a step closer. “Aiza, what are you saying?”

“He told you, didn’t he?” Kyla guessed. “Thane told you what he’s been hiding. What is it?”

I wanted to tell her. I wanted to tell them all. But like Tye said, Thane had eyes and ears everywhere.

I looked to Leo, hoping he might have the sense to stop me, but he only nodded and said, “They’ll all know tomorrow anyway.”

I sighed. “You were right, Kyla. Something went wrong, and Thane didn’t want to be blamed. That’s why he catapulted Leo and I into the spotlight, so that we’d be the ones to stand up there tomorrow and tell everyone the truth he’s been hiding from us for three years now—that we can’t go back to the ground… maybe ever.”

I paused, allowing the scattered murmurs to settle before I went on.

“The quakes have stopped,” I continued, “but it’s still too dangerous for us to go back, even to Salvus. The people we sent down there—the team we’ve supposedly been waiting on to send for us all these years—they all died within the first two days of being dropped. We’re not waiting on anyone. We never were. And Thane… he’s known all along. Every time he stood up at those assemblies and pontificated that we’d be going home any day, every time he pushed back our return date, he knew the truth. We’re stuck here, indefinitely. And all the training and classes have just been a… distraction, so none of us would have time to look around and see just how trapped we are. We don’t just have six more months. The Aureate may be the only home we see for a long time.”

I looked at Cace, suddenly regretting the empty promises I’d made to him minutes ago, simply because I didn’t want to accept the reality of our situation.

“This place… it isn’t just for now,” I said. “The truth is… we may be looking at the rest of our lives like this. Unless we do something to change it.” I looked to Kyla. “Think that will be enough to turn twenty thousand against Thane?”

Kyla didn’t answer me fast enough and Cace beat her to the punch. “I don’t buy it.” He gave an adamant head shake. “Thane is lying.”

“Cace…”

“No, Aiza, don’t you see? This is what he does. He just wants to keep us here where he can control us.”

“He’s not lying this time,” I importuned. “Believe me, I know it wouldn’t exactly be out of character for Thane to keep us here when there’s still a viable chance for us out there, but this is the whole reason he’s crowning us. He wouldn’t be going through with this if there wasn’t a real problem that someone had to take the rap for. For decades, Thane obsessed over being the one to bring us back after the Exitus. He doesn’t want to be trapped here any more than we do. But he knows that if we go back now, we won’t survive, just like the Salvus Team didn’t.”

“What killed them?” Tye piped up.

“I don’t know for sure,” I said.

“What do you mean you don’t know?” Sorrell exhorted.

“No one does. That’s the problem. Thane doesn’t know what happened to them, so he doesn’t know how to combat it the next time around. It’s just… aftermath from the quakes. But I heard the transmission that came in from one of the team members, and I could hear it in his voice. He knew he was going to die, and he did. They all did, in just thirty-two hours. It didn’t matter that the quakes had stopped. They didn’t stand a chance. We can’t let that happen to us. We’re still the only ones left. Survival is still our mission, and I can’t believe I’m saying this, but right now, the Aureate is our best chance at that. Staying up here is the only way we don’t end up like they did. If we go back now, we die. And fast.”

I fell quiet, watching the familiar shadow settle over the faces around me—that invasive fear that couldn’t be shut out. Tomorrow… there would be 20,000 faces consumed by that same fear.

Cace turned his back to the others. “How long have you known about this?” he asked me quietly.

“I just found out yesterday. I was going to tell you, but with everything else…” I stopped there before I accidentally divulged the other secret that had come to light today. “I was honestly just trying to forget it,” I said in a futile breath. “But to answer your earlier question… if we don’t find a way to take our lives back here and now, on this ship, we’ll never stop running from Thane.”

“Speaking of which,” Kyla interceded, “maybe we should consider moving this conversation elsewhere.”

“Where are we going to go where Thane won’t know?” Leo entreated.

“Nowhere,” Tye muttered, but I barely heard him, my attention stolen now by a tiny, white glimmer I’d just spotted in the middle of the floor.

I kneeled and plucked it from the fine threads of the rug, holding the sliver of glass to the light. It was a piece of the mirror I’d broken last night.

I didn’t dream it.

As I held up the glass morsel, my gaze fell to the tag on my wrist—that glowing blue ring intricately spliced with the fibers of my biology, forever binding me to the Arc.

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide. No escape from Thane.

My eyes drifted back up to the reflective fractal at my fingertips… and an incipient idea began to take shape.

“The Arc,” I announced, dropping my hand. “We have to shatter it.”

I turned, panning the array of estranged stares pointed at me.

“We outnumber the Directive thirty-nine to one, right?” I said to Leo, citing his figure. “The only reason no one has tried to depose the Directive before now is because of these.” I pointed to my tag. “If we shut down the Arc, we take away the Directive’s control. And let’s face it, once people find out the truth, they’re going to lose it anyway. If we can find a way to crash the Arc by the time Leo and I get up there tomorrow…”

“What, it’ll soften the blow?” Kyla spurned.

“It will give us a fighting chance,” I vied.

“It’s not that easy, kiddo,” Tye said, holding his voice low, leery of the listening walls.

“Can I see that?” I asked Sorrell, pointing to the ring of yellow light peeking out of her pocket.

“Um, okay…” Sorrell pulled the scanner out slowly. “But you know you can’t use it to⁠—”

“To deactivate tags without the code. I know.” I took it from her. “I have the code. At least… I hope I do. Cace”—I turned to him—“can I borrow your wrist?”

Cace took a reflexive step back, and it was only then that I remembered why he wouldn’t want me scanning his tag in front of everyone.

I placed a hand gently on his arm. “Cace, no one here is going to care about that. And the sooner I get you off the grid, the better.”

He still looked hesitant, but he surrendered his wrist. I held the yellow ring over it until it beeped, displaying his ID in neon blue for all to see.

Name not found, ID # not found

Sorrell, in all her faithful candor, was the first to say anything, “Where’s your ID number?”

“I don’t have one,” Cace volunteered. “I’m the one who was never supposed to be here.”

As the room buzzed around us, I set to work punching in the series of numbers I’d watched Thane enter earlier. In a matter of seconds, the blue ring of light on Cace’s wrist guttered and died.

“There,” I said, feeling a small sense of victory. “Your tag is deactivated.”

“Really? How?” Cace grazed his wrist, feeling only his own pulse now.

“I watched Thane when he deactivated mine earlier today,” I said, scanning my own tag and then punching in the same sequence. “See?” I held up my wrist to show Tye.

“Okay, but you just deactivated two tags,” Tye noted. “How do you plan to do that to all nineteen thousand five hundred of them by the assembly tomorrow?”

“I haven’t gotten that far yet,” I admitted. “I’m sure it can be done… somehow. We just need someone with clearance who can access the system and⁠—”

“And crash it,” Sorrell interjected, a temerarious look in her eye.

“Oh, perfect,” Kyla chimed in. “Well, if all we need is someone in the Directive who’s willing to help us destroy the Directive…”

“We need someone who can hack into the Arc and completely wipe it out,” Sorrell said. She hadn’t stopped staring at Cace’s wrist since it had gone dark, but suddenly her epiphanous gaze shot to me. “I think I know someone who can help us. But… Thane can never find out,” she uttered almost inaudibly. “If we get her here… could you deactivate her tag, too?”

“Well, where is she?” I asked.

“She’s in the Directive,” she replied, as though it was the answer to all our problems.

I blinked at her. “If she’s in the Directive… she doesn’t have a tag for me to deactivate,” I said, not even touching on the biggest oversight of her bright idea.

“She does have a tag.” Sorrell continued to stare at me like she had propounded some brilliant solution that I had yet to grasp.

Tye was the one to finally voice what we were all thinking. “If she’s in the Directive, why would she help us wipe out the Arc?”

“Trust me, she will,” Sorrell said in a hush.

Whether it was her unwavering conviction, or my own need to believe that this plan would work by some means, I bit. “Where do we find her?” I asked, matching her furtive volume.

“We don’t. It’ll have to be one of you.” Sorrell pointed to Kyla and Tye.

“And what are we supposed to say when we find her?” Kyla spoke in a sharp whisper. “‘Hey, can we borrow you down on Residency for a quick consult on crashing the Arc?’”

“Just use my name,” Sorrell said. “Tell her I need her. She’ll come.”

Kyla stared at Sorrell like she was mad, but Sorrell didn’t falter.

“Fine, I’ll go,” Kyla forfeited, then pointed to Tye, still using an icy tone that hadn’t quite thawed. “You stay here. One of us has to babysit these two, and apparently I was fired.”

Tye pressed his lips into a tight line and nodded.

“Besides,” Kyla added, “I want to check out this rogue Directive before I bring her anywhere near your crazy ideas.” She volleyed a withering glare at me.

I smiled. “Come here. Let me deactivate your tag before you go.”

Kyla didn’t object. While I deactivated her tag, Sorrell gave her instructions on where to find this person.

“Kyla?” she said, just before sending her off. “Don’t let Thane catch you.”

It might be too late, I thought, as Kyla went on her way.

“Alright.” I held up the deactivating device. “Who’s next?”

I prayed Thane was too busy planning tomorrow’s assembly to notice us dropping off the grid like flies as I waved the scanner over Leo’s arm and shut his tag off last.

“This is amazing.” Leo laughed as the ring of blue light on his wrist died.

“Hopefully, after tomorrow, we won’t have to worry about this anymore,” I said, maybe too optimistically, since all we had so far was the raw beginning of a plan.

Leo smiled, but the longer I studied it, the more I noticed those nervous lines surrounding it. Suddenly I had the sinking feeling that I was the only reason he was involving himself in this potentially disastrous scheme.

“Leo, I know I said before that we shouldn’t go up against the Directive, but⁠—”

“No, Aiza, you’re right,” he said. “We have to do this. I’m not saying we won’t potentially fail, but I told you… I’m with you, no matter what.”

I winced, not certain he was grasping the full weight of what we were about to do.

“Once people are free,” Leo added, “they won’t give that up again without a fight.” I couldn’t help but think he wasn’t just talking about the tags now. “Just… don’t let Thane throw me back in a cell when this is all over,” he echoed my thoughts.

“Okay,” I agreed conservatively, not wanting to consider the all-too-plausible scenario where I would be powerless to uphold such a promise.

I glanced over just then, and noticed Cace leaning against a wall on the far side of the room, his arms folded, head bent, a far-off look in his eye.

“Give me a second?” I asked, stepping away from Leo. “Cace?” I called as I came over to him, but I guess he didn’t hear me. When I touched his arm, he nearly jumped out of his skin. “Sorry. What’s wrong?”

“They should’ve come by now…” he said pensively.

“Who?”

“Commanders. We’ve been here for an hour. We literally just ripped ourselves off the grid.” He sounded almost angry. “Why hasn’t he sent anyone down here yet? At least for me?”

I grimaced. He was right. Things had been suspiciously quiet up there. If Thane really did have eyes and ears everywhere… he should’ve intervened by now.

Cace faced me, blue eyes wide as he whispered, “Aiza, are you sure about this? It’s one thing for us all to stand around and talk about it, but now our tags are dark and we’re about to involve someone from the Directive. Do you really think we can pull this off by tomorrow?”

“I’m not sure,” I confessed. “But I don’t know what else to do. We can’t keep running from him forever. As long as we’re here and he’s in power, he’ll always find us. If we don’t do this now,” I dropped my voice to a nearly silent decibel, “then tomorrow he’ll rescrub us both and make sure we never find each other again.”

Cace drew a strained breath. “I was never afraid of him before,” he said quietly, “him and all his friends in high places. It was easy to underestimate him when we were staying out of each other’s way. But now… with you…”

“Cace, listen,” I said, “what they did to you that night… I couldn’t stop it.”

“I told you, that wasn’t your fault,” he insisted.

“I know…” I said apprehensively, “but if what we do tomorrow means that will never happen to anyone again, then we have to at least try, right? Please, Cace. I can’t keep standing up there, masquerading as one of them, when I know what they do to the ones who fail to follow their rules. If we can pull this off, if we can take away their power⁠—”

“If, Aiza,” Cace stressed. “That’s a big if. That’s if he doesn’t catch us first, if we can actually crash the Arc, if we can get everyone to stand against the Directive with us… if this person Kyla’s bringing down here right now doesn’t turn around, march straight back upstairs, and tell Thane to send an army of commanders down on us.”

“She won’t.” Sorrell’s voice came from behind me.

I spun around. How long has she been listening?

“How do you know?” Cace invited her into our conversation.

“Because I know her,” she said, “and I wouldn’t be asking her to get involved if I didn’t trust her. If anyone’s going to make this plan work, it’s her.”

“See? Cace”—I turned back to him—“this can’t be the end of the road—the way things are now. You asked me if things will be better out there, if we’ll ever stop running from Thane. There’s only one way to know for sure.”

While Cace hedged, a knock came at the door.

Tye opened it, and Kyla waltzed through. “Well, she hasn’t said much,” she announced upon entering, “but I’m pretty sure I got the right person.”

“Not funny.” I scowled.

She smirked and turned to the girl in the doorway. “Come on in. Don’t be shy.”

She came in cautiously—our visitor from the upper floor. She wore pinstripe pants and an orange button-down shirt. Her coiling curls came to her shoulders, and a pair of tortoise glasses rested on the bridge of her nose. It was the Directive girl who had let Thane into my room last night, who was always stealing longing looks at Sorrell from afar.

The newcomer took slow, reticent steps into our quasi-formed circle, looking one sudden move away from breaking for the exit. Then she spotted Sorrell and went stone still.

“Sorrell…” she uttered, beholding her like she was a ghost.

“Wren,” Sorrell exclaimed softly as she went over to her. She stopped just a few feet shy, though, afraid to get closer.

“So… these two know each other?” I whispered to Kyla.

“Looks that way.” She shrugged, amused.

“Huh…” I murmured, watching in fascination as the two of them faced each other; Sorrell with that bizarre smile, the girl with the glasses—Wren—maintaining a leery frown.

Wren kept her distance, confliction written all over her face, like she was mad to be standing in the same room as Sorrell, and at the same time, all she wanted was to be closer. Finally, she broke the silence between them. “What am I doing here, So?”

So. The nickname rang a bell, and suddenly it dawned on me. She was the one I’d caught Sorrell arguing with that night in the hall outside of our rooms. Of course.

“I shouldn’t be here.” Wren shook her head, sounding just as agitated as she did that night. “You promised you wouldn’t do this again.”

“Wren, it’s okay.” Sorrell held up her deactivated tag. “See?”

Wren took a step toward her, adjusting her glasses as she studied Sorrell’s wrist like it was some unexplainable phenomenon. “How did you do that?”

“I didn’t,” Sorrell said, then nodded to me.

Wren turned around, taking on an authoritative tone as she fired an onslaught of questions at me, “How did you do that? Who are you? Where did you get that code?”

I bided my silence, not willing to answer a single one just yet.

“Well, my tag is still live.” Wren shoved up her sleeve to reveal the ring of neon blue.

“We can fix that,” Sorrell offered, looking to me eagerly.

I sighed, knowing I didn’t have a choice. The second Thane realized this girl was missing, he’d need only search the grid to find her here. Then we’d all be caught—tags or not.

“Come here,” I caved, waving Wren over.

I pulled the scanner from my pocket and ran it over her wrist.

Wren, ID # 392146:

Hair: black; Eyes: brown; Height: 5’7”

Weight:132 lbs.; DOB: June 3, 2114; Age: 20

Status: Directive

Position: system programming tech

Access: restricted – level 2 clearance

System programming tech. If that meant what I thought it did, she could be very useful to us. I blinked the notion away and quickly entered the code to shut her tag off.

“So… you’re in the Directive?” I asked, pocketing the scanner as her tag went dark.

“Yeah…” she answered, staring at her blank wrist. “And who exactly are you?” She pushed up her glasses, looking me over.

“Let’s just say I’d probably look more familiar if I was standing next to him”—I nodded to Leo—“and if we were both in masks.”

Wren’s eyes darted between the two of us shrewdly, her grin stretching wide as she pieced it together. “So, it’s true. The Masked Primaries… you’re just two kids. I gather that’s the reason Thane’s taken such an interest in this room?”

“Yeah, and you’re the one who let him in here,” I returned venomously.

“Hey, it’s his ship,” Wren said, absolving herself. “He would’ve found a way in, with or without my help. I’m just a civilian with a knack for bypassing security. I have to follow orders, same as you. Well—maybe not you”—she gestured—“Your Highness.”

“But you’re not a civilian. You’re in the Directive,” Tye countered.

“Yeah, well”—she rolled her eyes—“even some of us in the Directive have to follow orders.”

“You mean the ones they pull from the Residency?” I asked.

Wren’s eyes shot to me.

“You have a tag,” I said promptly, not about to admit that I’d been observing her nearly every day in the Mess since the beginning of our time here. “No one in the Directive has a tag.”

“True,” she ceded, then nodded to the scanner. “How’d you get the code?”

“I watched Thane deactivate my tag. He’s not as careful as he thinks he is.”

Wren laughed. “I’ve been trying to nab that code for years.” She grazed her wrist. “I guess I just needed to be royalty.”

“Well, you’ll have an opportunity to show me up,” I told her, seeing my chance to segue. “What would you say to deactivating every tag on the ship, permanently?”

Wren raised her eyes. She didn’t spew a mouthful of protests. She merely lifted her brow and waited for me to elucidate.

“Look,” I cut right to it, “the Arc is the Directive’s main means of controlling us. If we can destroy it, we can all be free here and now. We don’t have to wait until we ground. But it has to be tonight. That’s why we called you here. According to Sorrell, you’re the only one with the access and the know-how to crash it.”

Wren stared at me as if I had started to tell a joke and she was still waiting for the punchline. When I failed to deliver one, she looked to Sorrell. “So, please tell me you don’t seriously think this is a good idea.”

“It would be if you helped us,” Sorrell said. “If we had you, we might actually stand a chance. You could be free, Wren.”

“No, I can’t,” she argued. “I took a huge risk even coming down here. Thane will never let me go without⁠—”

“He wouldn’t have a choice if the Arc was dead,” Sorrell contested.

“I’m sorry. I can’t help you,” Wren refused. “And if you know what’s good for you, So, you’ll walk away from this too, while you can. In fact”—she turned to the rest of us—“you all should. What you’re talking about—it’s not possible, and even if it was… Thane would make sure it wasn’t worth it. He always does.” Her expression softened as she gave Sorrell one last longing look, much the way she would look at her from across the Mess, like all she wanted was to go to her, but something precluded her. Then she turned for the door, not sparing so much as a parting word.

I shot Sorrell a suppliant look. If Wren left now, there’d be nothing stopping her from marching straight upstairs to blow the whistle on us.

“You’re the only one who can do this, Wren,” she beseeched. “You know the system forwards and backwards. If anyone can hack into it and crash the Arc, it’s you.”

“Sorrell, please,” Wren said over her shoulder, “let it go. You don’t understand. I can’t be a part of this.”

“I do understand.” Sorrell made her way across the room and placed her chin just above Wren’s shoulder, whispering something in her ear.

Wren pulled back, eyes gaping behind her glasses. “No.”

“This could be the answer, Wren.”

“No!” Wren shook her head, her cheeks flushing with incendiary rage. “It won’t work. I shouldn’t have come.” She turned to leave again. “I have to get back before someone notices I’m gone. Maybe we can revisit this later, but right now… I’m sorry, I have to go.”

“Later will be too late,” I jumped in with a last-gasp effort to keep her here. “If we’re going to do this, it has to be tonight… before the assembly tomorrow morning.”

“What does she mean?” Wren directed the question at Sorrell.

Sorrell looked to me, as if asking my permission to tell her the real reason for the urgency of our half-hatched plan.

“Go ahead,” I granted it.

“It’s hard to explain,” Sorrell began tenuously, “but, Wren, if you don’t do this… then you could be stuck working for Thane for another three years, or ten years, or longer. I might never see you again.” Her voice thinned at that last part.

“What are you talking about?” Wren probed.

Sorrell proceeded to tell her everything—the Salvus Team’s abrupt demise, the unlivable conditions of the ground, and our plot to crash the Arc by the time Leo and I made the announcement in the morning. “The quakes are over,” she concluded, “but it’s still not safe out there. For all we know, it may never be safe to go back.”

“This ship didn’t save us,” I added. “It stranded us up here.”

“And you’re announcing this to the whole ship tomorrow?” Wren asked. I nodded, hopeful that, like the rest of us, our indefinite sentence to life on the Aureate would be enough to make her reevaluate her position. “And you want me to find a way to hack into the Arc and shut it down before then?”

“Not just shut it down,” Sorrell said. “We need you to do serious, irreparable damage—destroy it from the inside out—so Thane can never bring it back.”

“So, there’s a reason my hacking days are behind me,” Wren objected.

“We aren’t just talking about fudging attendance and ditching class,” she rejoined. “We’re talking about a total overthrow, bringing the Directive down once and for all. If you do this, Thane can’t keep you trapped anymore.”

“It’s not me I’m worried about.”

“I know.” Sorrell looked deep into Wren’s eyes. “Like I said, this might be the answer to that, too.”

I didn’t know what she was referring to, but Wren seemed to give it serious consideration.

“And you expect me to do this all in one night?” Wren looked at me, apparently catching on to the fact that I was the one with whom this treasonous plan originated.

“Honestly, I didn’t even expect you to hear us out,” I countered. “You’re in the Directive. Why would you help us sabotage it?”

Wren’s expression changed then, a cocky grin crossing her lips, as though she’d just decided something. She lifted her chin slightly and announced in a bold voice, “I won’t. You should forget this plan. Never speak of it again.”

I sighed in defeat as Wren made for the door, but she merely opened it, then closed it again without leaving. Then she turned around and silently summoned us all into a close circle.

As I guided Cace into the huddle, Wren whispered, “To answer your question, I never asked to be in the Directive. I was a resident, as you so astutely pointed out, but I cheated the system one too many times. Thane saw what I was capable of, and he felt threatened by it. So he recruited me to work for him up above, where he could keep a closer eye on me… in lieu of imprisonment. I guess I should be grateful I didn’t wind up like the others who disappeared.”

“What exactly did you do that was such a threat to him?” Leo asked.

“Nothing too destructive,” Wren said. “Harmless stuff, mostly. Unlocking doors I wasn’t supposed to, tweaking a few schedules here and there.” She stole a glance at Sorrell, and I sensed a longstanding history between them. “Anyway,” Wren went on, “eventually I got on Thane’s radar. I hadn’t done anything catastrophic… yet. But I guess it was what I could do that had him scared, and the fact that everything I’d done so far went undetected for so long. He started approaching me with warnings, but I didn’t take any of them seriously. Then one day… he showed up at my door with two blackvests and a pair of cuffs. He gave me an ultimatum—either I’d work for him, or he’d lock me up. Obviously, I chose the former. But… if it’s true that we’re stuck here, I’m not about to spend my whole life a prisoner on that top floor.” She exhaled before meeting my eyes and declaring just above a whisper, “If bringing Thane and the Directive down is your endgame, I’m in. I’ll do whatever you need me to do.”

If it was true that Wren’s skill had Thane unnerved enough to change her status in order to keep a closer eye on her, then she might’ve just become our greatest ally and asset.

But I wasn’t convinced we could trust her in full just yet.

“So, you’ve been…” I searched for how to phrase it, as we all stood shoulder to shoulder.

“I’ve been trapped up there,” Wren helped me out. “Thane decided he wanted me right under his nose, where no one with their own agenda could try to poach me. But”—she scoffed ironically—“here we are.” Her smirk faded as she faced me dead-on and said, “I’m no more Directive than you are Regna Primary.”

I blinked, surprised at the confidence inspired by the comment.

“So, you’re a hacker,” Cace deduced.

“Best in the world these days,” Wren boasted. “Of course… crashing the Arc in one night is a tall order.”

“But you’re going to try?” Leo asked.

Wren gave a strained sigh. “Here’s the problem. Even if I was able to infiltrate the firewall and access the network… crashing it immutably is infinitely harder. There’s really only one place I’d be able to do that: Control. It’s the central interface for the Arc.”

“So then let’s figure out a way into Control,” I suggested with perhaps unrealistic hope. “I mean, between you and two commanders, we⁠—”

“Still wouldn’t have a prayer,” Wren assured me. “The place is obscenely outfitted with security. We couldn’t get near it, much less do any kind of damage without getting caught and incidentally thrown in a cell… which I, for one, would still like to avoid.”

“When you say security,” Tye posed, “do you mean commanders? Or the kind of security you could hack through? Because if it’s the boots you’re worried about… I think Kyla and I can handle them.”

“You have lost your mind,” Kyla chided.

“I’m talking about security that can’t be hacked,” Wren answered. “DNA scans, face, voice, and retina recognition. Then there’s the boots.”

“I can’t believe you’re even considering this after Lucas,” Kyla repined at Tye.

“I know.” He gave her an intimating look. “But… maybe Lucas is exactly why we need to do this.”

“Sorry, who is Lucas?” Sorrell cut in.

Tye’s gaze remained anchored to Kyla as he replied, “My brother. He was⁠—”

Whatever he was going to say was cut off by a loud crackle of static from Kyla’s comm.

“Seven-five-three-four-three-two,” a commanding voice emerged. “Come in seven-five-three-four-three-two. Requesting verification on four-seven-two-nine-eight-six’s location.”

“Interesting. And I thought I was fired.” Kyla shot Tye a spiteful look.

“Congratulations,” he said. “Sounds like you’ve been reinstated.”

Kyla was about to respond, when the same voice came through Tye’s comm, demanding a location on Leo.

“It seems all of us dropping off the grid isn’t going unnoticed up there,” Tye remarked. He lifted his comm, providing just enough to convince the voice on the other end that he didn’t have a location on Leo yet, but he was looking into it.

Kyla followed his lead, buying us maybe a few minutes. “Listen”—she dropped her comm—“we’re out of time to stand around talking. Tags or not, those commanders are on their way here now. This is the last place we were all pinpointed, so it’s the first place they’ll look.”

“Do you mind?” Wren gestured to the scanner in my hand. After a moment of vacillation, I turned it over.

Wren examined it only briefly before nudging up her glasses and pulling up the keypad. Within seconds, our last checkpoints appeared on a holo-map—seven blue dots placing us all right here in this room. She tapped a few keys and suddenly, the dots all scrambled to various locations throughout the ship and then… vanished.

“There, that should throw them off our scent for a while.” Wren handed the scanner back to me.

“You keep it,” was all I could say in response. I was starting to believe that Wren might actually be as useful to us as her track record would suggest.

“We should go now,” Kyla said impatiently, already waiting by the door.

“Where?” Cace asked the unavoidable question.

“I may know somewhere we can go,” Tye offered.

It sounded tentative at best, but we didn’t have any other options, so we beat a hasty retreat from the room, following his lead.

Cace held my arm as I maneuvered around Rowan and Maddox’s recumbent bodies. “Kyla, what did you do?” I asked. “Kill them?”

“No!” she exclaimed, then kneeled to check Rowan’s pulse. “Yeah, they’re fine. Let’s keep moving though.” She waved us along. “I don’t want to be here when they wake up.”

Tye was already scoping out the next sector of halls when we caught up to him. “All clear,” he said. “Let’s move.”

We tailed him to the elevator, but just as we approached, he held up a hand, signaling us to stop. The numbers above the doors were dropping.

20… 19… 18…

Someone was on their way down from the upper floors.

“Let’s take the stairs,” Tye suggested, hurrying us past the doors about to spit out a band of blackvests. He proceeded to take us down more than a dozen flights, past the crew floors, until finally we came to the very bottom of the ship and the steps ran out.

As we maundered across the vast, ill-lit void, I was about to ask Tye where we were, when suddenly, I spotted a wide beam of light up ahead, streaming down from what looked like a giant square hole in the ceiling.

We crossed over to it and I tilted my head back, gazing up at the twenty-something stories that towered brightly above us.

“The core,” I marveled as we stood under it.

“I’ve never seen the core from this far down before,” Sorrell commented.

“Are we on the first floor?” I asked.

“The warehouse floor,” Cace confirmed, squinting in the brightness. “Crew gets sent down here all the time to dig out extra supplies.”

Sorrell crooked her brow at him. “You’re blind.”

“Mostly,” Cace retorted.

“Keep moving, guys,” Tye called from somewhere beyond the cascade of light spilling down from overhead.

We migrated away from it and discovered him standing next to a glowing keypad on the far wall. He hit a few buttons and the wall began to rumble and split apart.

“Come on,” Tye waved us through, flipping on the lights.

The room inside was massive, stacked floor to ceiling with shelves of miscellaneous items. There were uniforms, towels, sheets, cleaning supplies, tools, batteries, and hygiene products. Around the corner were rows of canned food and giant sacks of coffee beans, flour, sugar, even egg powder. Actually, it seemed most of our food came in powder form.

Up ahead, we came to a section filled with laundry detergent, bleach, light bulbs, and various spare hardware. Everything we used daily was right here, in plethora. I supposed I’d never given much thought to where it all came from. No wonder the warehouse took up the entire first floor.

“Welcome to the warehouse,” Cace said behind me, running his hand over one of the shelves. “A dusty hoard of over-preparation… or so I always thought.”

Even as he said it, I noted the bare spots on the shelves, the holes where certain frequently-used items had been picked over. Then I rounded the corner and saw a dozen ATVs lined up, and suddenly it occurred to me that not all of this was for here—not originally.

“I’m guessing a lot of this was meant for when we grounded,” I heard Leo say somewhere nearby.

I turned the aisle and found him standing before a towering stack of small aluminum boats. I peered further down and saw that they ran along the entire length of the enormous outer wall.

“Found it!” Tye’s shout came from what seemed an impossible distance away.

“Found what?” Kyla shouted back, her voice lifting into the rafters.

“Over here!” he yelled, a strange, metallic squeak emanating from his general proximity.

Cace took my arm again and we all herded toward the sound. We found Tye behind a stack of lumber, bouncing lightly on what appeared to be a steel trap door in the floor.

“What is that?” I asked as we gathered around it.

In answer, Tye started feeling around the edges of the door until he heard a click and lifted it open.

“What’s down there?” Kyla asked as we sidled up to the ledge.

Tye stayed tenaciously tight-lipped as he disappeared into the stacks, returning a few seconds later with a flashlight. He flicked it on and pointed it down the pitch-black hole.

“Stairs,” I observed, the beam illuminating a walled-in staircase.

“I thought we were on the bottom floor…” Sorrell trailed.

“Something tells me you’re supposed to,” said Wren.

I stared down the dimly lit chute of stairs and shivered a little. “This is where we’re hiding?” I didn’t undersell my hesitation to venture into the creepy secret basement of the ship.

“Don’t worry, kiddo. It’s not so bad,” Tye promised as he plodded fearlessly down the dark stairway.

“You’ve been down here before?” Cace asked as he and I descended the stairs carefully.

“One of my last jobs was down here,” Tye answered.

The others made their way down. Kyla went last, shutting the metal hatch over her head. “What job?” she asked upon joining us at the bottom.

Again, Tye didn’t answer. Instead, he tilted the flashlight up, revealing a door with yet another keypad beside it. This one was coated in a film of dust, save for a single streak that had recently been wiped clean.

“Great, Tye.” Kyla threw her arms up. “Can we even get in?”

Tye punched in a code.

Incorrect.

Tye’s lips curled as the word glided across the screen. “Well… I used to have access. Guess I should’ve known they’d change the code. Uh… sorry guys.”

“Tye!” I exclaimed. “Where are we going to⁠—”

“May I?” Wren interjected coolly, slipping between me and Cace and examining the keypad. “What’s down here anyway?” she asked as she started tapping buttons.

“It’s nothing we have much use for these days…” Tye began to answer, but then he stole a strange, pointed glance at Leo and suddenly went quiet.

Before I could question him about it, a trilling beep sounded and the door opened.

“How’d you do that?” Tye gaped at Wren.

She shrugged. “There are only so many passcodes Thane’s tech department uses in rotation for these things—all his… secret little doorways…” Her voice faded as she wandered through the door.

“Told you,” Sorrell gloated as she brushed past me and went in after her.

I checked that Cace still had a hold of my arm and then followed her. I couldn’t see much as we wandered in the darkness that met us on the other side—just the beam from Tye’s flashlight whipping around until he finally found the light switch.

One by one, the lights came on, illuminating the long strip of hallway that stretched out before us. As we started down it, I soon realized what lined the walls on either side of us—two rows of towering metal doors, each with a small, slot-shaped window in the center.

I walked over to one, cupping my hands around my eyes as I peered inside. It was too dark to make anything out beyond what looked to be a small, empty room with a bench against a wall. Wait, no. I spotted the steel latrine beside it and realized… it was a bed.

I stumbled back and saw the number painted in red above the door. “These are cells,” I said, looking to Leo.

He stared motionlessly at the metal door before him like it might come alive and swallow him whole. “Strange feeling…” he uttered when he noticed me watching, a weak smile trying to find a place on his lips, “standing on the outside.”

“Leo…” I started toward him, but he flinched and staggered away.

I froze.

He looked at me, embarrassed, trying to salvage some composure, to conceal the fear he’d usually done such a seamless job of masking, but it was too late. I had seen it now—the crack in the mask, the maddening terror that lived just under the surface. He turned away, ashamed.

A cage within the cage, I thought woefully, imagining the years Leo had spent in grueling isolation, and wondering if that had been here. It didn’t look like anyone had been down here in ages, and Leo was only released a week ago. So what is this place?

Sorrell peered inside one of the cells. “There’s… no one in any of these,” she observed. “Wherever Thane’s keeping the passengers who disappeared”—she turned to Wren, looking strangely disheartened—“it’s not here.”

Wren said nothing in response, but I had to admit, I was starting to think it, too. This place looked like it had been abandoned for years, but it felt awfully commensurate to the secret floor where Thane’s prisoners were rumored to have been kept—if any were still alive.

Maybe there aren’t any still alive. The morbid thought intruded as I looked around the desolate floor.

“Tye, what did you say you did down here?” Kyla asked, eyeing him suspiciously.

“I didn’t,” Tye replied cryptically. “But this place is well off the grid. No blackvests are going to find us down here. Most of them don’t even know it exists.”

“I’ve heard the Directive talk about places like this,” Wren said. “They call them blackout zones—sections of the ship designed to be inactive once we were in the sky, to conserve energy. They run on their own power banks. They’re not connected to ship’s main energy source or to the Arc’s grid.”

Blackout zone. As I turned the term over in my head, I glanced back at the end of the hall we had just come from… and spotted a pair of doors that looked different from the rest.

“Is this an elevator?” I asked no one in particular as I crossed back to it. The doors appeared to be stuck halfway open. I ran my hand along the opening, then turned sideways and shimmied through the narrow gap.

“You’re not going to leave us down here, are you?” Cace joked from outside. I could just see his smile through the rift between the doors.

I shook my head. “Not in this thing. I don’t think it’s run for…” My voice fell away as I spied the two buttons on the console—Sub and 28.

And suddenly I was waylaid by the memory. I had been in this elevator before… though not for a long time.

I stumbled out of the elevator and into a sprint, red numbers whizzing past me as I raced to the far end of the hall. Cace and Tye both called after me, but I ignored them, charging headlong into the dark abyss ahead.

I had to know… had to see for myself if this was, in fact, the place where my memories had been scrubbed all those years ago.

I raced past the corridor of cells and into the void beyond, my feet guided only by a vague shadow of memory. I stopped suddenly and looked to my left, where I found a door marked L4, enveloped in a single beam of light.

Slowly, I reached for the door’s handle and nudged it open. I stepped inside, feeling along the wall until I found a switch and flipped it. A single light hummed to life, dangling over a menacing chair on the wall across from me… one with wrist and ankle restraints.

The last time I had seen this chair, I was fourteen years old, with no earthly idea of where I was. They strapped me to that chair and shot a syringe into my arm… and I awoke with nothing but a gaping lacuna where my memories once were.

I walked toward the chair slowly, breathing in the musty scent of the room as I felt the distant memories of that day draw closer… particularly that of the boy who came racing clumsily down the hall, calling my name just before they brought me to this room.

“Anna…” his small voice echoed, faint at first, then loud as a siren. “Anna!”

“Aiza?”

I jumped at Cace’s voice. I turned to find him standing in the doorway, ribbons of dusty light streaming in behind him. “You in here?” He knocked softly on the wall.

“I’m here.”

He came and placed a hand on my shoulder. I reached up and clasped it tight.

“This is the room they scrubbed me in,” I told him. “I haven’t been back here since…” Suddenly, impulsively, I turned and flung my arms around Cace, holding him tight, afraid that time might somehow undo itself in here and take me back to that day, before he and I found each other.

Come tomorrow, that fear could very well become reality.

“Maybe we should get out of here,” Cace suggested.

I nodded, but I didn’t move. I just stayed there in his arms, staring at that pernicious chair on the wall. That was how the others found us.

“Whoa,” Kyla uttered.

“Is this…?” Sorrell’s voice ebbed as she straggled in.

“The last place any of us remembered who we were before the Aureate,” Wren murmured, glancing around. “The room we woke up in after they took everything.”

Afraid, confused, alone. That was how we all started our lives here.

I looked to Leo, to see if he felt the same eerie déjà vu as the rest of us in here, but he made no indication.

Tye, however, pointed at the chair on the wall. “No,” he said, as if something about it was amiss. “This isn’t the room I woke up in.”

With that, he returned to the hall, and after exchanging a few wary looks, we all went after him.

Tye rounded a corner and clicked on his flashlight, revealing dozens more doors identical to the one we had just come through.

“Are these all scrubbing labs?” Kyla asked.

No one answered, but Tye seemed to find the one he was looking for. We followed him through the door marked L17, into a room that was an exact mirror image of the one we’d been in previously.

“This was the room they scrubbed me in.” Tye’s voice was heavy with something more mournful than grief, more tremulous than fear, as he stared at the chair on the wall.

Like all of us, Tye lost everything the day he woke up in that chair… except for Lucas.

The last time he was in this room, he still had his brother.

Again, Tye left without a word.

Kyla watched with confliction as he did. I knew she wouldn’t go after him—not while she was still giving him the cold shoulder for earlier, and not while she was fighting back tears of her own.

“I’ll be back,” I whispered to Cace, deciding to go in her place.

By the time I caught up to Tye, he was all the way back at the cells, standing in front of one with his hand pressed to the wall.

“Tye?” my voice carried across the hall, but I couldn’t tell if he heard.

Upon closer approach, I noted a strange sound coming from the cell he stood at, low and gusting. I saw a fiery-orange glimmer reflected in his eyes. I looked to my left and saw that it was not a cell he stood before at all, but rather a thick-plated glass window looking into a blazing inferno.

“The incinerator,” Tye said, unprompted. He took his thumb off of the button he’d been pressing, and the fire vanished instantly. “It’s where they burned the clothes we came here in.”

I gulped, staring at the fiery chamber where the last remnants of our past were scorched to ash. “Tye.” I pulled my gaze back to him. “I know about Lucas.”

Tye’s eyes snapped to me, a different fire burning in them now.

“Kyla told me what happened to him,” I said. “I’m really sorry.”

“Yeah… me too.” His face fell, lament replacing the flash of anger. “Kyla doesn’t know the half of it.”

“What do you…?” The question became lost as I marked the way Tye looked at the empty cells around us… like he could still see someone inside one of them. “Tye,” I said in a more traducing tone, “you mentioned your last job was down here…”

“Yeah.”

“The job you didn’t tell anyone about—not even Kyla.”

Tye frowned. “Uh-hu…”

I crossed my arms, my next question directed more at the merciless commander who carted Cace away in the greenhouse today than the soldier who had saved my life years ago. “Why did Thane assign you to Leo when he was released?”

It took Tye a moment to understand my insinuation—that maybe his assignment didn’t start when Leo was released.

“Aiza”—Tye scoffed indignantly—“do you really think I was involved with what they did to him? Look, wherever Thane was keeping Leo all those years, I never knew about it, I swear. The day they let him out was the first day I ever saw him. He was never here.”

“Then who was here? Where did they go? What is this place?”

“I can’t tell you!” Tye snapped.

“Why? Because you’re covering for Thane?”

“No! Because… it’s a long story!” He huffed. “And it’s one we don’t really have time to get into right now—not with every commander on the ship hunting us down!”

“Aiza!”

I startled at the sound of Leo’s voice.

Tye and I both turned to find him hailing us from the far end of the hall.

“You’re not going to believe what Wren found!” he exclaimed.

“What is it?”

“Come see!” He waved us over.

So Tye and I followed him back through the scrubbing labs. Tye stayed a few paces behind, but that did nothing to allay the burgeoning feeling I had that we were being tailed by one of Thane’s spies.

Tye said Thane had eyes and ears everywhere.

Maybe he wasn’t just talking about the Arc.

Maybe he knew better than anyone just how many eyes and ears Thane had planted throughout the ship.

Leo led Tye and I back through the maze of scrubbing labs and into a large room containing a labyrinth of obsolescent computers and consoles. We crossed through the mess of machinery, over to a monitor behind which the others huddled.

Cace, Kyla, and Sorrell stood in a row behind Wren, who was seated in front of the screen, its bright display reflected in her glasses.

I stood beside Cace, balking a little as a sharp pain shot through my ribs.

“Aiza? You okay?” he asked quietly.

“I’m fine,” I lied. Painkillers must be wearing off. “What do we have here?” I pointed to the screen.

“Wren found it,” Sorrell said, but she seemed lost for an answer beyond that as she stared at the changing sequences on the monitor.

“After we found those scrubbing labs,” Wren jumped in, her gaze not diverting from the screen, “I had a hunch. I figured that if every passenger brought onto the Aureate came through this floor first, there might be something down here that they used to log us into the database. I didn’t have to look far to find this beauty.” She beamed at the computer. “Our files, our ID’s—it’s all right here. It’s a pretty rudimentary version of Control’s operating system, but it can access the Arc. If I can hack into it from here, we might not need Control at all.” Her eyes finally parted from the monitor and met mine, a scheming smile stealing across her lips.

I wasn’t sure I fully understood. “So… you’re saying…”

“I’m saying your crazy plan might actually work, now that we have this.” Wren gestured to the machine that had sat in desuetude for years.

“Really? Wait, how did you get this thing running without power?”

“Same way we got the lights on,” Wren said. “Blackout zones have their own stored power. Don’t worry. This won’t put us on the grid. You said you make the announcement tomorrow morning, right?”

I nodded. “First thing after breakfast. Ten A.M.”

“Got it.” Wren lifted her sleeve to check the time, then remembered her tag was dead. “That’ll take some getting used to,” she said, consulting the screen instead. “Okay, it’s nearly midnight now. That gives us ten hours. That should be enough time for me to break through the firewall and cue the damage we need to wipe the Arc for good. But the minute I pull that trigger, Thane’s team will be able to trace where it came from… which means I can’t execute the command until the assembly. In the meantime, Thane can’t catch onto us, so you’re going to have to keep him on his toes.”

I grinned. “Finally. Something I’m good at.”

“Alright.” Wren turned back to the screen. “Let’s see what it’ll take to get us into this… archaic beast.”

As she worked, I caught a flash of blue in my periphery and glanced over. “Cace.” I touched his arm. “Your tag.”

“It came back on?” he asked.

“Wren”—I tapped her urgently—“the scanner I gave you…”

“Okay, okay. Don’t panic.” Wren calmly pulled it from her pocket. “We’re still in a blackout zone. We’re fine for now. Can I see your wrist?”

Cace obliged, holding out his arm. Wren took it, and as she ran the scanner over his glowing tag, she studied him. “Looks like it hurts,” she commented, nodding at his contusion.

“The eye?” Cace’s hand went to it. “Yeah, I uh… tangled with a commander.”

“That’ll do it,” Wren murmured as she pulled up his ID. “Wait.” She squinted, straightening her glasses. “You’re⁠—”

“The rumored stowaway?” Cace inserted. “That’s me.”

“Huh,” Wren mused.

“Wren, the code,” I reminded her. “It’s⁠—”

“I’ve got it,” she said, already punching it in, and like that, Cace’s ID vanished, along with his tag. “Told you”—Wren gave the scanner a boastful little toss, basking in our collective incredulity—“I’m the best. That’s why you roped me into this crazy coup, right?”

I couldn’t help but smile. Wren was starting to grow on me.

Then she frowned at the scanner. “If Thane’s reactivating tags remotely, I should hold on to this through the night. I don’t want to take any chances. If he finds me down here, it’s all over.”

“It’s yours,” I consented.

Wren pocketed the scanner and then set to work, her fingers whizzing across the keys. A list of files came up, but just as quickly, a window materialized, blocking the screen.

Authorization required.

Wren’s smile spread ear to ear. “This is too good.”

“What?” Sorrell asked.

She gestured to the screen. “Manual passcodes! This system is primitive. I can break into this, easy. No one upstairs will ever know.”

“What is it you do up there, Wren?” I suddenly thought to ask.

“I help program the Arc,” she answered. “Schedules and all that.”

“But you said the Directive trapped you. If you have access to all of this, and you’ve hacked the system before… why haven’t you tried something like this sooner?”

Wren took a long time to answer. Finally, she turned away from the screen and said, “Thane brought a lot of smart people onto this ship—smarter than him—not to mention a lot of high-profile, power-hungry investors with eyes on his seat of power. He found a way to subjugate every last one. He made sure they all had a reason to stay allegiant to him—myself included. Thane has a propensity for exploiting people’s weaknesses to bend them to his will.”

“So why help us now?” I asked.

This time, she didn’t think twice about her answer. “Because,” she said, “until tonight, I had no idea how long we’d be trapped here. Honestly, I’m not sure how many upstairs do. Between us, the Directive’s pretty unstable these days, and that information might just be the card that collapses the whole house. If this works, it won’t be hard to overthrow whatever’s left of them.” She waited a beat before adding, “And… because this will only work if you have my help.”

She tapped the window.

Passcode Request.

Wren’s fingers did another swift, methodical dance across the keyboard.

“You know it?” Kyla asked.

“No,” Wren admitted, just as a low note sounded. “But I have to try one in order to crack the cipher…”

She pulled something from her pocket and swiped it, casting it to the screen, then she proceeded to open and close tabs in a dizzying sequence. “Ladies and gentlemen, we are now officially in hacking mode,” she declared. “Like I said, Thane’s tech department usually uses the same passcodes in a rotation…”

Wren lifted her hands off the keys and sat back, watching the cipher display all potential combinations of letters and numbers that might break us into the database.

“Where did you get decryption tech like this?” Tye asked.

“I made it,” Wren replied, “back in my delinquent days. I always keep it on me, just in case. Wait…” She adjusted her glasses and leaned toward the screen, watching a new combination flash across it.

N-7-9-A-2-A-4-8-N-6

“I’ve seen these characters before. Wow”—she flicked her brow—“I haven’t seen this one in forever. This didn’t come from the tech department. This is one of Thane’s original passcodes, which I guess makes sense, since this thing hasn’t been updated since it was first initialized”—she located the date on the screen—“back in 2119. Fifteen years ago.” She gave a low whistle, then pushed up her glasses and set to work entering the characters in the correct order.

Not until she was inputting the last few did I realize what she was typing.

A-N-N-A-4-7-2-9-8-6

“Wren…” I uttered, “where did you get that code?”

“It’s one I used to see before it dropped out of the rotation,” she said. “Why?”

“Because… that’s my name. And that”—I pointed at the six digits succeeding it—“is my Arc ID number. Are you sure this is right?”

In reply, Wren hit the key to submit the code and suddenly every window on the screen vanished, a single word consuming it.

Authorizing…

The dots kept rolling for what felt like an eternity, until finally, a beep sounded.

Accessing…

And just like that, we had gained access to every tag and file of every passenger on the ship.

“It… worked,” I said, gaping at the screen.

Wren swung around in her chair to face me. “What did you mean the passcode is your name?” she asked.

“Anna…” I droned in disbelief. “It was my name before the Aureate.”

“Anna?” Leo repeated, regarding me curiously.

I nodded, staring at the computer we’d just hacked into, a disquieting thought rolling in like a dark cloud. If Wren was right… that passcode was programmed fifteen years ago, before any other file was created, before the ship itself was even built. I didn’t even have a new name yet, but I had a number. Even then, I had a place here.

“We’ve been watching you all your life…” Thane’s voice crept in.

I shuddered. What if I really was part of Thane’s plan from the beginning? But why me?

There it was again—the question I could never seem to outrun.

“Hang on.” Wren scrolled through the docket. “Look at the number of files.” She pointed to it.

20,499 files.

“This was including the Salvus team.” She turned back to us. “One file is missing.”

“Technically two are missing, right?” I corrected.

“Well, I think it’s safe to assume I’m not in there,” Cace interposed. “So there’s one mystery solved.”

“Then who’s the other one?” Wren asked.

“Try looking up my number,” I suggested. Wren typed it in.

No passenger registered under this ID number.

“Huh.” She stole my reaction.

I turned to Leo. “What’s your ID number again?”

“Uh…” Leo strained to recall it, “six-two-three-eight-six-three, I think?”

“Can you look that up?” I asked Wren.

She typed it in. “That’s weird,” she said. “It says here you were nineteen when you boarded and that your height is… six-foot-two?” She looked Leo up and down. “There’s no way.”

“Can I see that?” Leo drew closer to the screen. “None of this is right,” he said, scrolling to reveal a headshot of someone who definitely was not him by any stretch of the imagination. The only similarity was their dark hair.

“Who is this guy?” Sorrell asked the obvious.

“I have no idea…” Leo trailed. “What do you think happened to him?” He turned to me, amber eyes spinning fearfully. “You don’t think they… replaced him with me, do you?”

“I don’t know,” I admitted. “But whatever happened, it wasn’t your fault, Leo.”

“Look, whatever happened to this kid doesn’t matter right now,” Tye interrupted. “We need to hurry and make a plan.”

“I think I have one,” Wren proposed. “It won’t be easy… to override such an active, exhaustively backed up database and wipe it entirely, but if I work through the night, I should be able to do it from here.” Wren pressed out a sigh, as if the weight of everything we were about to do had finally sunk in, then she spun her chair to face me. “If we do this,” she said, “our timing has to be perfect. Like I said, I’ll do what I can tonight, but I can’t fire out the command until you’re on that stage tomorrow morning. That’s a small window, and I can’t be sure this will work until then. We should’ve held on to one of those comms. I’ll need a way to signal you at the assembly when it’s done.”

“We ditched them in Aiza’s room, but there’s more where they came from,” Tye said. “We can grab some from the warehouse and remove the trackers.”

I couldn’t help but glare distrustfully at the possible interloper in our midst. But Wren had no reason not to trust Tye, so she nodded. “Okay. I know of a few ghost frequencies we can use. We won’t have any room for error tomorrow, so let’s get our plan straight now. You two will report back to Thane tonight,” she addressed me and Leo. “Once he reactivates your tags, he’ll ask how you fell off the grid, but glitches in tag tracking aren’t as uncommon as he wants you to think, so here’s what you tell him: the system rebooted. I’ll wipe some of the archived data going back to when we deactivated our tags, so it’ll all check out by the time Thane’s team looks into it. As for tomorrow…”

Wren continued mapping out the plan for us, orchestrating each of our parts down to the last detail. We went over it again and again until we had a full-fledged plan in place to depose Thane and the Directive by morning.

“Alright,” Kyla said once we’d run it forwards and backwards, “let’s get you two back to Thane before the search party beats us to it.”

Sorrell turned to Wren and gripped her arm pleadingly. “I’m staying here with you.”

“That’s actually not a bad idea,” I inserted before Wren could refuse. “We should only let Thane reactivate as few of us as possible. The four of us don’t have much choice.” I gestured to Tye, Kyla, Leo, and myself. “But you should stay here, Sorrell. And so should you, Cace.” I turned to him.

“Aiza,” he began to object.

“Just hear me out.” I took his hand in mine. “If somehow Thane figures out what we’re doing before tomorrow, he’ll use you to make me call it off. You know he will. Please, Cace. The only way I can go through with this is if I know you’re somewhere he can’t find you.”

Cace looked like he wanted to demur, but like Wren said… Thane had a propensity for exploiting people’s weaknesses. Thane knew there was nothing I wouldn’t do to ensure that Cace was never hurt again because of me. Cace knew it, too.

“I actually could use the help down here,” Wren thankfully spoke up.

Cace sighed, realizing the futility in arguing. “Alright, I’ll stay.”

“Thank you.” I squeezed his hand and whispered, “I love you.”

Cace blinked the rancor away, tracing my cheek. “I love you, too.”

He released my hand then, and it was only as I turned to leave with the others that I saw Leo waiting for me, a hint of injury about his features.

He heard.

He managed a smile, saying nothing as we backtracked through the scrubbing labs and cells with Tye and Kyla.

We had just made it to the stairs, when suddenly we heard footsteps careening up behind us.

“Aiza, wait!” Cace’s cry clamored down the hall.

I turned to find him racing to catch us, his hand skimming the corner as he came around it.

“Cace.” I went to meet him. “What is it?”

“You were right…” he panted. “If you want to turn people against the Directive, just… tell them the truth.”

“What truth?”

“Just tell them what you told us—that we’re looking at the rest of our lives here, just like this, unless we do something to change it.”

“You really think that will work?”

Cace shrugged, winded. “It worked with us. No one wants this to be the end of the road. We were supposed to go home a long time ago.”

I grazed his cheek. His hand closed over mine.

“Whatever happens…” he said in a trembling breath, “don’t forget me.”

“I won’t,” I promised, wanting desperately to kiss him one last time. But I knew I couldn’t. Not here. Not now.

So I said goodbye and followed the others up to the warehouse, praying I’d get the chance to kiss him again when this was all over.

“He was telling the truth,” Leo said to me as we waited alone in the warehouse behind the stack of lumber.

I faced him blankly. “Who?”

“Tye,” he said. “I never saw him when I was locked up. We met the day they let me out. He’s the only commander who never treated me like a prisoner.”

I nodded, realizing he must have overheard that, too.

“I wasn’t kept down there.” Leo gestured to the floor below us. “Where I was… it was different. But the door was the same.”

That was when Tye and Kyla returned from running new comms down to Wren. “Alright,” Kyla announced, “phase one of the plan complete: untraceable comms and a bogus Arc reboot. Now on to phase two.”

“Turning ourselves in…” I grumbled.

Leo’s eyes met mine knowingly. “Time to face the music,” he said.

The four of us hazarded back upstairs, careful not to get spotted on the lower levels and give the commanders a trail to follow to the others. It wasn’t easy, but we managed to clear the Residency floors before letting five commanders detain us and bring us to Thane’s office.

Thane was seething by the time we came through his doors—frantic, furious, and entirely unwilling to hear our excuses for disappearing. He gave Tye and Kyla both a stern lecture while he reactivated their tags, then sent them on their way.

Leo and I didn’t get off quite so easily.

“You must understand why I’m a bit suspicious of it all,” Thane finally said, after we’d spent several minutes telling him exactly what Wren had told us to. His silver eyes narrowed at us like two honed blades. “Both your tags and your commanders’ lost their signal right around the time a certain crew member’s did.”

I waited for him to mention Sorrell and Wren, but it seemed they weren’t even on his radar, which boded well for us.

“If Cace’s tag went out when the Arc rebooted, too,” I ventured to suggest, “then maybe there’s something wrong with it. Can you think of a reason his tag might have glitched?” I eyed him incisively, threatening to spill his secret.

Thane glowered at me, his upper lip twitching. “Fine,” he muttered with chagrin. “But I warn you, Aiza… this assembly had better go according to plan, or there will be fallout, not only for you, but for everyone on this ship. Am I clear?”

I nodded, careful not to oversell it.

Thane’s glare toggled between the two of us for another long moment before he finally said, “Now, there’s one last matter to address.”

He held out his hand. I surrendered my arm and he pulled another scanner from his pocket, running it across my wrist.

It beeped, and like that, my tag was back on.

As Thane unhanded me, I felt another pang in my ribcage. I tensed, clutching my abdomen, and Thane frowned.

“I’ll have some stronger painkillers sent to your room,” he said. “We can’t have you in this shape tomorrow.”

I didn’t argue. I just wanted out of this office.

Thane turned Leo’s tag on next, then instructed us to return to our rooms. “Your own rooms,” he clarified. “In the morning, your tags will tell you where to report… provided they remain intact.”

Leo and I departed, returning to our individual rooms as ordered. I took the painkillers that were delivered, then I stayed awake all night worrying about Cace down on that subfloor, hoping Wren was procuring as much success with her end of the plan… and that none of them were found in the meantime.

By 9:45 the next morning, I was waiting backstage in the raiment Roxanne had curated for today’s occasion—a long, form-fitting dress made of a rich, midnight-blue velvet that featured a golden starburst pattern fanning out from my hip. A length of fine, dark voile swept down my right shoulder and across my chest. The same material formed the three long trains that spilled from my shoulders and the back of my dress, each spangled in gleaming, white crystals, creating the vague impression that I had three sections of sparkling night sky trailing behind me. A host of gold pins held my hair together in another complex chignon, topped with a decorative, gold barrette. And of course, yet another elaborate gold mask hid my face.

I watched through the curtains as 20,000 people filled the Assembly Hall, which took up the entire twenty-second floor. Haydn’s String Quartet No. 62 in C Major played as the Directive filled the mezzanine above, the shadow of which eclipsed the back rows where the crew filed in, residents and commanders pouring into their respective tiers in front of them. It felt strange to be standing here and not out there, amidst that great blue throng.

I located the centerstage podium where I would make the announcement, and my heart began to race. Would this be the day Leo and I became objects of enmity from every person that filled those lower tiers, living in fear of the day they learned we were one of them? Or would this be the day we liberated them from the small, but powerful section of dignitaries seated aloft? I supposed it all hinged on the measure of Wren’s success—which we wouldn’t know until we were up there. In the meantime, I just had to play my part and wait for a signal from Kyla or Tye.

Kyla stood her post at the door to the right of the stage, comm in hand. I looked to the door across from her, where Tye was meant to be stationed, but I didn’t see him. Maybe he was off testing communications with Wren. I hoped so.

Thane’s crepitating voice boomed behind me. I turned, observing him directing the crew members backstage, trying to decide if that glib grin he wore was simply because he believed we were finally back on track, or because he was secretly a step ahead of us… and we were about to watch our plan crash and burn.

I must’ve been more on edge than I realized, because the faintest tap on my shoulder nearly spooked me senseless. I gasped and whirled around to find a pair of dark-ringed, ice-blue eyes staring back at me.

Amon.

“You scared me.” I gripped my chest.

“My apologies, Your Highness.” Amon gave a servile bow. He was in an eggshell suit today, his platinum hair slicked back as usual. He held my cue cards out to me. “Your speech.”

I took the cards from him—or card, I realized once I was holding it.

I looked down at the single golden leaflet in my hand and felt my heart rate spike again. “What is this?” I asked. But when I looked up, Amon was gone and Thane was making his way over to me, flaunting that ambiguous grin.

“Ah good, you have your cards.”

“Card,” I corrected, holding it up. “Where is the rest of it?”

“Yes. About that”—Thane turned down his chin—“there’s been a change in the itinerary. Leo will now deliver the initial announcement. You will deliver the closing.”

I wanted to protest, but I knew I didn’t have grounds for it without raising suspicion.

“Rest assured, Your Highness”—Thane took the scanner from his pocket and waved it over my wrist—“your part is just as important.” He punched in a new code and my tag vanished. But rather than freeing my wrist, he clutched it tighter. “Just stick to the cards,” he warned. “I don’t have to remind you what happens if you don’t.”

I gritted my teeth. “No, sir,” I uttered.

“Good.” Thane unhanded me. “How are you feeling today?”

“I’m fine,” I said stubbornly, ignoring the twinge of pain in my ribs.

“So you know, Niro will no longer be bothering you,” he hinted, and before I could ask what he meant, he turned on his heel and left.

Once he was gone, Leo approached, bearing the stack of cards that contained the imperative announcement. His coatee was almost entirely gold tonight, complete with golden aiguilettes, bullions, buttons, and dark blue velvet cuffs with gold cufflinks.

“We have a problem,” he said, holding the cards up.

“I know.” I mirrored the gesture with my own.

I should’ve seen this coming. After everything I’d ruined so far, it was no wonder Thane didn’t trust me to give a speech as crucial as this one. But this was one variant that none of us foresaw when devising our plan. Wren had put so much emphasis on the timing of it, and now Leo would be the one up there when we received the signal instead of me.

Does Thane know that? Is that why he switched our parts?

No, I told myself. This doesn’t change anything. As long as we still get the signal…

“So…” I said, scrambling to organize my thoughts, “if you’re going first⁠—”

“I’ll do it,” Leo blurted before I could even pose the question. “If Wren gives us the signal—when she does—I’ll say what you were going to say. I’ll tell them that the Directive lied to us, that the Arc is dead, and that it’s time to take our lives back.”

“Leo…” I began to caution.

“Aiza, please, I can do this. Give me a chance.”

His amber eyes bore into mine adamantly from behind the mask.

I tried to think of a reason to talk him out of it. I guess I wanted to believe that if I was the one who announced the fall of the Arc, Leo would somehow be spared. But deep down I knew… either way, we would both go down for this.

“Okay,” I finally gave in, “if you’re sure.”

“I am,” he swore. “This is going to work, Aiza. It has to.”

I nodded, mustering a smile of confidence to hide what I was thinking.

I hope you’re right.

Leo and I observed from our vantage behind the curtain as Thane sauntered out onto the stage. Amon and several other prestigious figures of the Directive sat in a row behind him as he delivered his prefatory address, which he kept shockingly succinct, and sooner than expected, he was calling us forward.

A light, obligatory clap filled the Assembly Hall as Leo and I strode stiffly into the spotlight. I couldn’t help but note the disparity in enthusiasm from this audience of 20,000, compared to the roar of applause exuded from the much smaller gallery of Directives to which we were first introduced.

I focused on the bright light beating down on us, letting it wash out the sea of spectating eyes swarming me. Despite their underwhelming applause, 20,000 never seemed like as many as it did in this moment.

I tried to breathe, but that dull, unrelenting ache still gnawed at my ribcage. I was so concentrated on filling my lungs, I didn’t hear what Thane was saying, but suddenly Amon was standing before me again, this time bearing a glistening, gold crown.

I gathered we had arrived at the coronation portion of the ceremony.

I had to admit, the crown was exquisite—a ring of gibbous, golden points dripping with radiant white and blue gems. I glanced over and saw Leo bend his knee for Thane to place my crown’s counterpart atop his head. I lowered myself in turn, allowing Amon to place the diadem on mine. I reached up and touched it, loathing the way it felt—heavy, and at the same time, so delicate. I stood, taking in the apathetic ovation of the people who never assented to my being named Regna Primary.

Thane and Amon receded from the spotlight as Leo and I made our way toward each other, mounting the podium steps. Leo looked spectacular in that crown, like he was born to wear it. He smiled for the audience, but I was close enough to see those nervous lines not quite concealed by his mask.

As we basked in the forced adulation of the auditorium, Thane’s warning echoed in my ear. “This assembly had better go according to plan, or there will be fallout…”

I supposed that was the idea.

As the scattered applause died out, I leaned in and whispered to Leo, “Remember to watch Kyla for the signal.”

He nodded. “And if there is no signal?”

I grimaced. “Then just… stick to the cards. No one has to know. Wren will cover her tracks.” Unless she’s already been caught.

As the arena went quiet, Thane motioned for Leo to begin his speech.

I checked Tye’s post again. Still no sign of him.

I looked to Kyla and fanned my hands out at my side. Where is he?

Her gaze darted over to his vacant position. She lifted her comm to check in with Wren. No answer. She lowered it and shrugged.

I released a sharp exhale. Come on, Wren…

Something was wrong. Wren was the one who’d planned this down to the minute. Even if she had failed, she should’ve at least told us by now.

There could only be one explanation for her radio silence…

Just as I thought it, a commotion arose backstage. I stepped away from the light, straining at the penumbra behind the curtains, where three figures emerged, just out view of the audience—two commanders… holding Cace between them.

No. A terrible feeling clawed at my chest. If Thane had found Cace, it meant he’d found Wren, too.

But how? They were on an abandoned floor that the grid didn’t even reach, with the most technologically prolific person on the ship keeping their tags dark.

Someone must’ve told Thane where to find them.

I had one guess who.

Again, just as I thought it, the commanders holding Cace shifted, the narrow seam of light landing on one of their faces. Tye.

Just then, a small unit of commanders appeared behind Kyla. She looked straight at me as they set upon her, utterly confused.

I looked to Thane… and found his shrewd silver gaze readily awaiting me.

This was why he had switched my part with Leo’s—so that I’d be standing right here when they brought Cace forward. So that I’d see him and understand well before I stepped in front of that microphone… we had failed.

Thane never bought our story last night about the tags going out because of a reboot. Maybe he didn’t know everything when we turned ourselves in, but after Leo and I left his office, he cornered the one person he knew he could wring the truth from.

Tye gave us up.

Leo stood speechless before the mic, watching as Kyla was quietly arrested. He turned to me, silently imploring me to tell him what to do.

I shook my head. It’s over.

Leo seemed to understand. He gulped, sifting desperately through his cards.

Stick to the cards. No one has to know.

Except Thane. He knew everything, and now all we could do was try to minimize the consequences.

“Ladies and gentlemen of the Aureate,” Leo opened, “I would like to take this moment to once again express our sincerest gratitude for granting us the considerable honor of leading you into the New World. The nature of this gathering is not only to celebrate a momentous step forward in our mission to one day see that world thrive again, but also to plan for, and be aware of what awaits us in the more immediate future.”

Leo looked to me one last time, as if somehow I could will the Arc to crash here and now. When I offered him nothing but a helpless wince, he continued the dictation.

“As you all know, for the past three and a half years, while we have been preparing for our call to return, the Salvus Team has been striving to build a foundation on the ground that is both safe and operational for us to go back to…”

Leo frowned at the lie he’d just declaimed. The crowd broke out in spontaneous cheering—nothing forced or halfhearted about it. I recoiled at the sound of unbridled hope that was about to be swiftly shattered.

“However,” Leo projected his voice over the pulse of excitement, “due to various complications that have recently arisen… and an unfortunate underestimation of the harsh conditions on the ground…”

I cringed at the words I knew were coming. Everyone was about to know the truth, and there was nothing we could do now to mitigate the sting of a potential lifetime trapped on this ship. With the Arc still in play, we had no hope of winning any war we waged against the Directive now.

“It is with great regret that I must inform you,” Leo’s voice shook slightly, “that no one on the Salvus Team has survived, and our return to the ground has been delayed indefinitely, as its current environment has been deemed unsuitable to sustain human life.”

A thrall of stunned silence settled over the auditorium. Then, slowly, it began to bristle and bombinate. Then, all at once, it erupted with vehement rage, the decibel of which far exceeding the tempered applause from earlier.

Upheaval, the word rang in my head. The very upheaval that could destroy us.

I looked out at the vast arena as thousands of angry fists shot into the air. With them, thousands of little blue flecks of light, tethering them to the despotic system we’d failed to eradicate.

I leered at Thane, who stood far from the spotlight now, safely in the shadows.

He lifted a gnarled finger and pointed at the card in my hand. Your turn.

I gathered the skirt of my dress and approached the podium. I just hoped that whatever was written on this card wasn’t worse than the news that had just been delivered.

Leo reluctantly relinquished the microphone to me. My heart hammered as I stared down at my solitary card, preparing to read it quickly and then abdicate the stage. But just as I was about to… in my periphery, I saw Kyla suddenly break free of the commanders’ clutches. She held her comm to her ear, then dropped it and cast her gaze out across the auditorium. She didn’t bother fighting off the blackvests as they remanded her again. She merely locked eyes with me… and nodded.

I looked out at the crowd, not understanding at first.

Then I saw it.

Out in that raging ocean of riled chaos, one by one, I witnessed those tiny dots of blue light flicker and die away, like watching a rolling blackout.

The signal.

I laughed in astonishment. I didn’t know how she did it, but Wren delivered on her promise. She crashed the Arc.

I looked to Thane, his silver eyes flashing with anger and bewilderment as he watched the last of the blue light extinguish, leaving nothing but a dark arena. Then his eyes shot to me… and I knew we had the same thought.

Whatever he’d done to Wren, he was too late.

We won. We were free.

If he tried to revoke that now, he would have a war on his hands.

All I had to do… was tell them.

And so, once more, I forsook the words written on a card in favor of my own.

“Just tell them the truth,” Cace’s voice rang in my head as I stood before the clamoring crowd. “No one wants this to be the end of the road. We were supposed to go home a long time ago.”

“Everyone look at your tags!” I said loudly into the microphone.

This wrested the attention of some. A few voices fell. The noise attenuated as they all glanced at their wrists, noting the absence of that oppressive blue ring.

“Look,” I seized my opportunity to be heard, “I know that with every day that passes, we all grow more anxious to leave this place and go home. But the truth is… there is no home anymore—not the one some of us might remember,” I invoked the word boldly. “We don’t know what killed the Salvus Team. We do know that they sacrificed their lives so we would know just how dangerous it is on the ground. We can’t let their sacrifice be in vain. We can’t just rush down there without first knowing what we’re facing.”

I paused, taking in the ambivalent silence of the audience. At least it was an improvement over the dissonant shouting.

“We will go back someday,” I promised, “but it won’t be in six months. And… it won’t be without risk. We escaped the quakes, but the Exitus is far from over. The hardest part of our survival is yet to come. I know that surviving isn’t the same as living. In fact”—I paused, hesitant to use Thane’s words, but they were fitting—“right now, it might be the hardest thing anyone has ever had to do in the history of humankind. But we will do it, no matter what it takes, because we are the ones who still have a chance to. That’s all the Aureate ever was—a chance. And for now, like it or not, it’s the only home we have. Going back to the ground is going to take time, and it’s going to take all of us. That is why”—I looked to Thane, his reviling glare practically coaxing the words out of me—“the Arc has been shut down. Your tags have been permanently deactivated. You are no longer restricted to statuses and schedules allocated to you by the Directive. Residents, your vocational scores are null and void, and there will be no more mandated pairings. You’re free. All of you.”

“It’s true!” a voice suddenly arose from the crew section to declare, as he held up his wrist for all to see. “Our tags are dead!”

It took only seconds for the news to disperse throughout the auditorium, the collective drone of confusion and conference eventually culminating in 19,500 amassed cheers. They hooted and howled. A few couples exchanged kisses—their unions clearly not attributed to the Directive’s pairing algorithm. The whole arena teemed with elation.

Well… almost.

The Directive section loomed like a dark cloud over the celebration, many of them frowning and shaking their heads at this decision, which obviously none of them were consulted on.

I dared to steal a glance at Thane, expecting to be met by his incensed stare again. But he didn’t look at me with anger. More… distress.

No matter. I turned back to the reveling audience. It’s done now.

The secret was out. The lies were over. As was my part in the show.

Perhaps it was that notion that compelled me to do what I did next. I bowed my head and slowly removed my mask. I stared at it there in my hands for a moment—the golden imprint of my own face staring back at me. Then, just as I began to lift my eyes—boom!—the light cut, and suddenly everything went black.

As I blinked in the new darkness, a pair of hands grabbed me from behind and yanked me off the stage, dragging me behind the curtain. When my eyes finally adjusted, I saw Kyla gripping my arm, breathing heavy.

“Have you lost your mind?” she scolded over the commotion of the crowd outside, pointing to the mask in my hand. “That wasn’t part of the plan!”

I didn’t get to respond before Cace shouted behind me, “Aiza!”

I turned just in time to see him break free of Tye’s grip.

“Stun him!” the other commander holding Cace ordered.

Tye reached across his hip and freed the stun gun from his belt.

“No!” I screamed as Tye pulled the trigger, but something strange happened.

The slug shot past Cace and struck the other commander in the chest, Cace barely escaping the shock.

But Tye never misses… I thought as I watched the blackvest flop to the floor, caught in a web of electricity.

“Aiza?” Cace called again, stumbling away from the commanders and searching for me amidst the pall.

I ran to him, ripping the crown from my head and letting it roll into the shadows as we collided with each other. “Cace, what happened?” I asked. “How did Thane find you?”

Cace’s expression darkened.

“What? What is…?” My voice ebbed, as suddenly I became aware of the eerie silence that had gathered over us. I glanced around. We appeared to be alone now.

Wait. No. A single figure stood in the light of the doorway at the back. I squinted, just barely able to distinguish the outline of a pale suit.

Amon.

“Where did everyone go?” I asked him.

“I’ve been instructed to have you follow me to the Chancellor’s office,” was his reply. “But first, you must change.” He stepped forward, holding out a neatly folded blue jacket and pair of black pants. His other hand emerged from behind his back, producing a pair of boots.

The show was over now. Reality and all its repercussions awaited.

An hour after I’d changed, Cace and I found ourselves sitting once again in the same pair of chairs across the desk from Thane’s tall, empty one. As we waited in silence, I studied Cace’s bruised eye. In the light, I could see it had turned a new color, but thankfully he didn’t appear to have sustained any new injuries.

I reached up, adjusting the single gold pin I’d kept from today’s ensemble to keep my hair off my face, since I wasn’t given time to braid it. That was when the doors opened behind us.

I turned around, surprised to see a commander enter instead of Thane. He was small in stature, and looked somewhat nervous as he cleared his throat to announce, “Chancellor Thane requests that you follow me. And, uh… I’ve been instructed to tell you that your resistance is ill-advised.”

Despite the less-than-convicting warning, Cace and I complied. Cace held my arm as we followed the commander out of Thane’s office and through the bright halls that spanned the Directive floor. I couldn’t help but shudder at how similar this felt to the last time I’d given a speech. I placed my hand on Cace’s, reminding myself that he was with me this time, not waiting in chains in some abysmal hidden room.

The commander halted in front of a door that was propped open, a strange, beryl light spilling out of it. He gestured for us to enter. I squeezed Cace’s hand and together we went inside, where Sorrell, Kyla, and Tye all waited in a row… facing Thane.

Tye leered at the scrawny commander who guided us to join the line. “You don’t have to do this, Julian,” he said. “Thane doesn’t call the shots anymore.”

“Don’t listen to him, Julian,” Thane belayed, sneering at Tye. “You’ve always been more trouble than you’re worth”—he stepped toward him—“just like your brother.”

Tye seethed and wound back his fist, but Julian intercepted before he could leverage its wrath.

“Move!” Tye fumed.

“It’s alright, Julian,” Thane said placidly. “He won’t hurt me.”

“Don’t be so sure,” Tye spat as Julian stepped aside.

I was starting to question my theory that Tye had double-crossed us.

The room grew quiet as tensions between Thane and Tye deescalated. Thane folded his hands behind his hunched back, offering no account for the silent standoff we now seemed to find ourselves in. I began to get the feeling we were waiting for something… or someone.

A few moments later, a second commander burst into the room and marched up to Thane. “Still no location on three-nine-two-one-four-six, sir,” he said shakily. “Not with the Arc still⁠—”

Thane raised a hand, silencing him. “Continue the search, Murphy,” he instructed. “The culprit is here… somewhere.”

“Yes, sir,” Murphy nodded, then he and Julian exited posthaste, as if there was some emergency outside that required their presence.

As I watched them leave, I wondered why they were still taking orders from Thane. I supposed neither of them seemed especially like the type to defy authority, even with the Arc abolished. Perhaps these subservient commanders were all Thane currently had at his disposal.

“He found a way to subjugate every last one,” I recalled what Wren said about Thane and the people he brought onto this ship.

Wren. I glanced at those lined up next to me and noted she wasn’t among them.

That number Murphy mentioned… it was an ID number. They were looking for her.

What would Thane do when he caught her? Thane liked to make examples of those who broke the rules, but Wren didn’t just break the rules. She took away Thane’s control. She took the mercy he’d granted her by allowing her to join the Directive’s ranks and used it to cut him down.

“Well”—Thane clapped his hands together—“shall we begin?”

“Begin what?” I ventured to ask, if no one else was going to.

“The demonstration,” Thane replied. “Nightmare. It’s a protocol I truly hoped we’d never have to invoke. But I warned you, Aiza, it would not just be you who suffered the fallout the next time you scorned my orders.”

Thane turned to the wall behind him and tapped the keypad. The wall rumbled and split apart.

Secret little doorways… I thought.

A white light came pouring out of the parting wall—so bright that I had to turn away, and as I faced the others lined up beside me… I realized who else wasn’t here.

I raised a hand to my eyes, waiting for them to acclimate to the blinding light. Once they did, I saw him, sitting in a chair much like the ones we saw in the scrubbing labs, his wrists and ankles bound to it.

Leo.

Amon stood behind Leo, his white suit so washed out in the light that he almost appeared as a floating head with two dark-ringed eyes in the center.

Leo was wearing his blue uniform, shackled to the chair in front of Amon, his head hanging limply to one side, lips quivering, fingertips twitching. Sweat beaded his forehead and dripped down his neck, drenching his gold-trimmed collar. His skin was pale, ashen, his veins deep purple and distended, jutting up his arms like malignant vines. His eyes zipped busily back and forth behind closed lids, his dark lashes fluttering.

“Leo…” His name fell from my lips as I started toward him.

“I wouldn’t get too close,” Thane warned.

I stopped short, only just noticing the wall of faint, almost imperceptible ripples before me. I listened closely, finding the soft pulse of the electric current. I’d seen this on the ship before. It was an electromagnetic field—a galvanic barrier that would zap me on contact.

I grimaced and stepped back.

It was happening again. Only this time, it wasn’t Cace who would bear the punishment for my offense. And it wasn’t shock-lashing. It was…

“What is this?” I demanded, gesturing to Leo. “What have you done to him?”

“It’s what you’ve done to him,” Thane fleered as the others gathered around. “What all of you have done. It’s time you all learned—Command, Residency, and crew alike—the Directive is not your enemy. We saved you. We do not want a war, and frankly, we won’t tolerate one. Fortunately, I am prepared to quell the impending dissidence before it comes to that.”

Thane nodded to Amon, who came up to the edge of the live barrier, holding something to the light for us to see. It was a syringe, like the one they’d used to inject us with the scrub serum, only this one was filled with a shimmering, milky liquid.

“As soon as we inject Leo, here, with his final dose,” Thane explained, “he will demonstrate for us the effects of the toxicant that is about to infect every passenger on the ship—with the exception of the Directive, of course. We call it Nightmare.” He waved his hand, motioning to Amon. “Care to take it from here?”

Amon looked a little taken aback by the offer, but he composed himself, cleared his throat, and expounded in a sibilant voice, “Well… as the Chancellor mentioned, we call this serum Nightmare. It’s a formula I’ve spent several years perfecting—a uniquely concentrated hallucinogen.” There was a buzzing quality to his words as he spoke to us through the humming force field. “We’ve administered small, measured doses intravenously to Ileon—Leo—to monitor him and ensure there will be no permanent damage, since his mind is a particularly delicate one.” He looked straight at me when he said it. “Inoculation also works best for demonstration purposes,” he added. “However, with a few protein alterations, Nightmare can be made airborne. Once the Directive floors are sealed, we will release it in its gaseous form throughout the ship. It will disseminate, and within minutes, everyone aboard will experience the… symptoms you’re about to witness.”

“Let me guess—nightmares?” Kyla arched her brow.

Amon’s mad, shadow-ringed eyes shot to her. “This is much more than a bad dream,” he said with a garish inflection. “The Nightmare enters the subject’s body and overtakes their nervous system, immobilizing them and causing them to fall into a deep sleep. The chemical agent then targets the brain—namely, the part that houses fear. As a result, the subject’s new reality is one compounded entirely of⁠—”

“Of fear,” Cace guessed.

“Yes.” Amon nodded. “Specifically, memories associated with fear.”

“But our memories are gone,” I pointed out, not daring to mention I had retained a few fear-charged memories that required no chemical agents to resurrect.

Amon’s manic grin widened. “They aren’t gone,” he corrected. “They are simply tucked away. That’s all the scrub is—a locked box, keeping your memories contained. It’s one of my proudest creations.” His mouth twitched at the corners as shocked silence fazed the room.

“You created the scrub?” Sorrell finally asked.

“Yes. Just as I created the Nightmare—the key to unlocking the box.”

As Amon gazed at the luminescent substance he held, suddenly it dawned on me—what his role here was. I’d never given it much thought before, but now it was clear. He was the mind-manipulator—the secret weapon Thane employed to brainwash us all.

“The Nightmare induces a sort of anamnesis in the brain’s cortex,” Amon elucidated, “and those once-forgotten memories are revived, over and over in the subject’s mind until the opioid wears off. Soon all will remember… the atrocities the Aureate saved us from.”

“You mean the Exitus?” I guessed.

His cold eyes flitted to me. “Why, Your Highness,” he said, “I think you’ll come to find there are worse things to remember about the world we once lived in than its end. Far worse things.”

Leo trembled feverishly in his shackles, dark veins protruding from his paper-like skin. As I watched him, I suddenly had a very vivid glimpse of all the years he’d spent in that cell. My chest tightened. This is all my fault, the familiar reproof crashed through my head.

Again, I was reminded of something Wren had said. “Thane has a propensity for exploiting people’s weaknesses to bend them to his will.”

It appears I have two weaknesses, I thought, as Thane nodded, permitting Amon to administer the final dose.

“No!” I sprang forward, but I was zapped back by the voltaic barrier as Amon injected Leo with the poison. My head buzzed and my hand stung as I watched the glowing serum flood Leo’s veins, a trail of light traveling up his arm to his chest and neck, ravenously invading every inch of him… until finally it reached his brain.

Leo began to stir and flinch, his face wrenching in distress, then suddenly his eyes flashed open. His pupils were dark and dilated—two black holes surrounded by bloodshot whites.

For a moment he just lay there, shivering and staring up at the ceiling. Then his lips parted… and he released a harrowing cry.

“What… what is he seeing?” I asked faintly.

“Only he could tell you that,” Amon tsked.

As Leo loudly lamented over whatever horrific memory he was being forced to behold, I thought of what he said to me last night. “Just don’t let Thane throw me back in a cell when this is all over.”

I bit my lip, internalizing a cry of my own. This was worse.

It should’ve been me. Crashing the Arc was my idea. Leo said what he was supposed to. I was the one who got up there and delivered the wrong message, again. Now Thane was delivering his—Arc or not, this world still belonged to him. And so did we.

Wren wasn’t here, but I heard her voice once again issuing the warning she’d given when we first told her of our dangerous plan. “It’s not possible, and even if it was… Thane would make sure it wasn’t worth it. He always does.”

Thane reached over and tapped a button on the wall. The charged barrier receded and I ran to Leo, but I didn’t know how to help him.

As I stood there, watching Leo writhe, Thane snuck up behind me, his guttural voice curling around my ears. “I believe you forgot this.” He slipped something into my hand. “I told you, Aiza, all you had to do was read the card.”

I scowled as I lifted the single gold card into view, and with Leo’s cries still ringing in my ear, I finally read the words I was supposed to say today.

It is of the utmost importance that we all continue to abide by the laws of the Aureate for as long as we are here. These laws have been put in place for all our benefit and safety. Failure to abide by these laws will result in swift and severe consequence.

I dragged my eyes up to Thane, finally grasping his intention in giving this part to me.

But as always… I grasped it too late.

This was why he’d switched my part with Leo’s. He was giving me a chance to back down. It was right there in my hand. All I had to do was read the card and I would’ve realized the mistake we were about to make.

But if Thane knew what we were planning to do at the assembly all along, then why did he let us on that stage? Why give us the chance? Was it just so he could do this in retaliation?

Of course.

It finally hit me, now that I was swimming in the hindsight of it all. Thane couldn’t afford to weed out any more of us. He needed a reason to show the people once and for all who was in power. I’d given him exactly what he wanted. Insurrection—a reason to strike back, to subjugate us all.

What did that commander say to Thane earlier? “Still no location on three-nine-two-one-four-six, sir. Not with the Arc still⁠—”

That was where Thane had cut him off.

Maybe he didn’t want us to hear that Wren was still missing… because he was the one who had let her go, to allow her to finish what she’d started.

Thane was listening to us in my room. He heard us forming our plan from the beginning. He even heard us bring Wren in on it. But he allowed us to proceed with crashing the Arc so that he’d have to establish control over us another way, with this… Nightmare.

Leo’s cries ceased. His entire body convulsed as he struggled to breathe. Then his chest deflated and he went limp, his eyes falling shut again. He lay there, utterly unmoving.

“Leo!” I grabbed hold of his shoulders and shook him, not knowing what else to do. “Leo!” I screamed. “Wake up!”

“Aiza, stop!” Thane ordered, his cold hands closing around my arms, coaxing me away.

“Wake him up!” I commanded, craning against Thane as he held me back.

I didn’t see Thane give the signal, but I saw Amon give a biddable nod, and the next thing I knew, he was freeing the syringe from Leo’s arm and ripping the needle out with his teeth. He inserted a clean needle, then grabbed my arm and gored the syringe into it.

I watched as the remaining drops of pearly fluid drained into my veins, my skin going gray as the luminescent substance flooded my bloodstream.

I began to feel faint, my nerves tingling as Thane lowered me to the floor. Soon it was all I could do to lie there and let the Nightmare take hold.

It’s just a dream, I told myself, as I waited to awaken to the Exitus… or some demented, Nightmarish version of it. It’s not real. It’s just a dream.

I should’ve known better. I had spent enough time in the world of nightmares.

It was never until I woke up that I realized it was all a dream.

I was running furiously toward something.

My lungs burned, my heart raced, but I forged on.

The earth I treaded was still. The night was silent, save for my own ragged breath.

Dilapidated brick walls rushed past me in shadows on either side, but there were no quakes, no signs of destruction.

My feet fell hard and fast against the gravel as I raced through the dark alleys in the crisp, desert night air. My foot caught on the ground and my ankle rolled. I whimpered, but I pushed through the pain. I did not stop running.

Finally, I saw it.

I forced myself to breathe as I executed the final steps and pulled to a halt, my heels skidding in the dirt. I stood there, dust settling at my feet as I stared down the empty, moonlit alley before me.

No…

Something was wrong. This alley… it wasn’t supposed to be empty.

Something was supposed to be here—something that wasn’t here now.

Panic shot through me. Fear overtook me.

I felt it so deeply, even though I didn’t yet understand why.

I heard another pair of footsteps slog up behind me. I turned to find a woman with stringy blonde hair and haggard eyes. “Where is he, Anna?” she asked impatiently, clearly irritated to have been dragged all this way in the night, only to come to an empty alley. “Where’s the boy?”

I turned back to the dark, deserted alleyway… and suddenly I remembered.

It was not something that was supposed to be here. It was someone.

Whoever he was, seeing that he wasn’t here now… it felt as though my heart had stopped beating, but somehow, my lungs kept filling reflexively, keeping me alive just enough to feel the great, abysmal void of his absence.

“No,” I uttered hoarsely. “He… he can’t be gone. He was just here!” I became hysterical, frantically searching the shadows. “Where did he go?”

“Anna, come on. He’s not here. There’s nothing we can do.” The woman used that tone—one that many of my guardians had used with me over the years. Not cruel, just… indifferent. It was her indifference that graveled me. She should be as concerned as I was. No, not concerned. Terrified.

“It’s late. I’m sure the boy’s fine,” the woman insisted. “Someone probably came for him. Come on, let’s go back home.” She shivered against the frigid night air, but I didn't move. I stood there, numb to the cold that clouded my breath.

“Anna,” she raised her voice, her patience wearing thinner by the second. “We’re going home. Forget about the boy. How can you even be sure you really saw him?”

I turned to her, provoked by this. “What?”

The woman sighed. “We both know this wouldn’t be the first time you’ve seen someone who isn’t there.”

“He’s real!” I screamed. “He’s real, and he’s hurt! We have to find him!”

“Anna, stop. We’re going home. Now.”

She took hold of my arm. This pushed me over the edge.

“No!” I yanked free of her grip. “We can’t just leave! I promised I’d come back for him! He’s not here. Something is wrong! We need to find him!”

“Anna, shh!” she admonished in a sharp whisper. “It’s late and you have school in the morning! We’re leaving! Right now!”

She went for my arm again. I tried to break away, but she was stronger. I stumbled along as she dragged me away, reaching toward the alley where he was supposed to be. “No! Wait! I can’t leave him!” My cries echoed off the brick walls. “Please! I promised I wouldn’t leave him!”

I continued to protest as my guardian forced me away. Then, just before the alley disappeared from my arc of visibility altogether… I saw a figure emerge.

He stood in the moonlight, his face obscured in shadow. He was nothing more than a tall and billowing shape, darker than the night. But every nerve in my body went rigid at the sight of him. I felt the same invasive fear I’d felt on the morning of the Exitus, and somehow I knew—somehow I remembered… he was the reason this was the single most fearful memory of my life.

He was the reason the boy went missing on this night.

The Nightmare began to fade, leaving me in limbo between the ensnaring past and the mantled present of which I was only dimly aware.

Feeling was the first sense that returned to me. I felt myself lying in someone’s arms.

I blinked, slowly regaining my vision, and I looked up to find Cace’s blue eyes hovering above me, his cheeks flush with worry.

I needed to say something to let him know I was awake.

“Cace.” My voice sounded muffled to my own ears, but he heard me, and smiled with relief.

“Don’t leave me, Aiza,” he whispered.

A loud clatter sounded behind him, followed by a thud that rocked the floor.

“I won’t,” I promised, just before my head fell back and the world went dark again.

The next time I came to, I wasn’t in anyone’s arms. I was sprawled on the cold floor in the middle of that room saturated in bright light.

How long was I out? I wondered, my head rolling to the left as I struggled against the ataractic effects of whatever was in that syringe.

A figure in white was lying unconscious on the floor across from me. Amon.

He must’ve been the thud I felt before.

I groaned, reaching overhead, fumbling to grab hold of whatever was behind me and pull myself up. It wasn’t until I was on my feet that I realized it was the chair Leo had been strapped to… but he wasn’t there now. The chair was vacant, the restraints pried open.

I tried to push away from it, but I was still too shaky to stand on my own, and just as I began to lose my balance, a pair of arms swooped in and caught me.

“Aiza?” a voice spoke. “Can you hear me?”

Tye.

I could hear him, but I couldn’t see him—only phosphenes bursting before my eyes.

“She’s still too far gone,” he said as I clung to him. “She can hardly stand.”

“Then carry her!” another voice shouted. Kyla’s. “We have to go before he comes back!”

Tye whisked me off my feet, carrying me out of the bright room. A swift melody played in the halls—Corelli, I was fairly sure.

“Tye…” I groaned as I jostled around in his arms.

My vision cleared a little as he gazed down at me. “Hey, kiddo. How do you feel?”

“Cace?” was all I could manage.

Tye slowed his pace and shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

And just like that, darkness closed in on me again.

Thane had Cace.

There was no way he’d let him go now… not until he made sure that Cace had forgotten me.

My skull pounded as I rattled around in Tye’s arms, the lights zigzagging overhead. Eventually, I requested that he put me down.

“Aiza…” he tried to protest as I tumbled to my feet.

“I’m fine,” I said.

“Let her run if she wants to!” Kyla panted. “Come help us with him.”

I turned to find her and Sorrell struggling to hold Leo, who had an arm around each of them, his head drooping sluggishly.

Tye went to take Kyla’s place, crouching to slide his arm under Leo’s. “Hang in there, man,” he said. “We’re almost there—just a little further. I’ve got him,” he told Sorrell, freeing her as well. “Come on, let’s keep moving.”

He gave Leo a brute pat on the chest and we set off again.

“Where exactly are we going?” I asked as we accelerated through what I now recognized was a Command floor.

“Wren’s meeting us at the Command outfit,” Sorrell answered, tying her hair up as she ran.

“Wren?” I asked, ignoring the ache that had reemerged in my ribcage. “I thought she was missing.”

Sorrell shook her head. “Not missing. Hiding. We used the comms with disabled trackers to set a rendezvous point.”

“Why the Command outfit?”

“You’ll see,” Tye said, fighting to keep Leo upright as he jogged alongside us.

“What happened to Cace?” I dared to ask.

“Thane’s men took him,” Kyla confirmed my worst fears. “We tried to stop it, but between busting Leo out of that chair and trying to pick you up off the floor…”

“We did manage to knock Amon out,” Tye noted. “Hopefully that buys us some time before he releases the toxin onto the ship.”

“There she is!” Sorrell pointed as we came skirting around the core.

Wren stood across the way with her back to a pair of doors.

“There you are!” she exclaimed as we approached. “I got the doors open. Let’s hurry and get this—whoa.” She gaped, as Leo and Tye straggled up behind us.

Wren nudged up her glasses, taking in Leo’s sickly state—his shirt drenched in sweat, skin pale, dark veins stemming up his neck.

I guessed I didn’t look quite as bad since I’d been injected with less.

“So… that’s going to be everyone on the ship?” Wren’s brow twitched.

“Not us,” Kyla said. “Not if we get what we need here. Nice work getting the doors open.” She gave Wren a pat on the shoulder before disappearing into the outfit.

Wren and Sorrell exchanged wary glances, then sauntered in after her.

I stayed outside with Tye and Leo, partly because I was too tired to take another step, but mostly because I wasn’t entirely sure I trusted Tye enough to leave him alone with Leo. Having just lost Cace, I wasn’t willing to take any chances.

I wandered over to the glass railing overlooking the core, grateful for something to lean on while I caught my breath. It was a short respite, though. Kyla reemerged from the outfit moments later. “Got ‘em!” she announced, holding up two translucent-orange masks, like the ones I saw Tye and his team wearing in the greenhouse.

“Gas masks?” I guessed, watching Kyla secure one of them to her face.

“Yep.” She pressed a button on the side of the mask and it sealed shut with a hiss.

She handed the other to Tye, who managed to put it on with one arm, holding Leo steady with the other.

Sorrell and Wren each came out holding a pair of masks as well. Sorrell slung one over her shoulder, then affixed the other to Leo’s face. Wren removed her glasses and donned one of her masks, then offered the other to me.

“Um… isn’t it a little late for me?” I asked.

Wren shrugged. “You really want to risk it?”

“Good point.” I took the mask and put it on, making sure to seal it.

“We look good.” Wren smirked. “Not that I can really see us,” she added, gesturing to the glasses tucked into her pocket. Then her gaze lifted to something behind me and her face suddenly paled. “Um”—she pointed with a trembling finger—“I know I just said I can’t see, but… is that…?”

I spun around and saw the pale, shimmering cloud rising from the bottom of the core… silently, rapidly.

“Nightmare…” I gasped, then whipped around and shouted, “Run!”

The others looked up and saw the roiling, iridescent haze ascending. Without wasting a second, Kyla took Leo’s other arm and flung it around her neck, she and Tye stumbling into a jog with Leo lumbering in between.

Wren grabbed hold of Sorrell’s arm, pulling her into a sprint, and together the six of us raced through the halls, trying to outrun the chemical cloud that chased after us.

“This way!” Tye yelled up ahead, he and Kyla barely keeping Leo in tow as they banked around a sharp corner.

“Where are we going?” I asked.

“You’ll see!” he shouted back, leading us into a wing on the east side of the ship. He stopped at an unmarked pair of doors and flung them open. We piled inside the room where a dozen chairs were arranged around a long table—a briefing room of some sort.

Tye dumped Leo into one of the chairs and rushed to the other side of the room, punching numbers into yet another keypad.

I glanced down, watching the virulent, white fog slither under the doors. “Um… Tye?”

“Just… one… second…” He stalled the words as if counting down to something.

“Tye!” I cried, clambering away from the shimmering vapor that gathered, accidentally bumping into Sorrell. “Sorry, I…” My voice escaped me when I turned and saw her skin going gray before my eyes. I looked down. “Sorrell… your mask!”

She followed my gaze, finding it dangling from her right hand.

She had never put it on.

She looked back at me, her green eyes going wide, then instantly falling heavy. “I don’t feel so…” Her voice waned as she began to swoon.

“So!” Wren dove to catch her. She held Sorrell, watching helplessly as the luminous poison crept up her arms, its rapacious light multiplying as it invaded her body, spreading up her spine and finally swarming her skull.

Sorrell’s eyes flashed open, green rings vanishing into two black holes.

A loud buzz sounded across the room.

“It’s open!” Tye shouted, waving us over to the parting wall. “Hurry! Everyone inside!”

I helped Kyla hoist Leo out of the chair. Wren struggled to pick Sorrell up off the floor. Tye ran to her aid, scooping Sorrell up and bringing up the rear as we all stumbled into the secondary room. Kyla slapped the button to close the wall behind us.

“Don’t take your masks off yet,” Tye instructed, as suddenly a loud vacuum came on overhead.

After a few noisy seconds, any trace of the noxious fumes had been leached out of the chamber and a voice announced that the decontamination process was complete. Then another set of doors gasped open behind us.

“Okay, we’re good,” Tye said, carrying Sorrell through them. “We’ll be safe from the Nightmare in here.”

Kyla helped me haul Leo in after him.

“What is this place?” Wren asked as she came in last.

Kyla flipped on the lights, illuminating the narrow room with two rows of bunk beds lining the walls on either side of us. “Airlock bunker,” she answered, yanking off her mask.

“It was advertised as quarantine for commanders in case of ‘potential airborne contamination,’” Tye added with a scoff as he laid Sorrell onto one of the lower beds and then removed his mask.

Wren took hers off too as she came to Sorrell’s side.

“I guess Thane thought he might want some of us still conscious if he ever decided to release a toxic hallucinogen onto the ship,” Kyla commented, helping me finagle Leo into another lower bunk.

I removed my mask, then sat beside Leo and carefully removed his. He let out a groan as I brushed the curls from his face. He was still shaking, short of breath. I winced. “I bet you wish you’d picked a different side now.”

I didn’t think he would hear me in his torpor, but he turned his head, his eyes barely opening as he uttered faintly, “You’re wrong. I told you, Aiza, I’m with you… no matter what.” His eyes closed again. “He took him, didn’t he?” he asked.

“Who?”

“Cace. Thane took him.”

“Yes,” I answered, a slight catch in my throat. “Thane took him.”

I didn’t succumb to a rush of tears, but it still stung, knowing I was trapped in here while Thane had Cace trapped somewhere out there and I couldn’t get to him.

“I’m sorry,” Leo’s voice was nothing more than a low rasp.

“Don’t worry about that now.” I placed a hand on his shoulder. “Just rest.”

Suddenly, Leo’s hand was on mine, his eyes fighting to stay open. “I wish things were different…” he drifted. “I wish I wasn’t just another part of your life that was chosen for you.”

I blinked, admittedly a bit dumbstruck by the confession.

“I know what it is to feel trapped,” Leo said. “I never wanted you to feel that way with me.”

“Leo,” I began to contend, “I don’t⁠—”

“You said, ‘I can’t.’”

I gulped. “What?”

“You were supposed to say, ‘I do’… and you said, ‘I can’t.’”

Oh.

“I should’ve gone after you…” he mumbled, “when you ran. I should’ve told you that… I wanted you to choose me.” His eyes fell shut again, his words slurring. “I was just afraid that if I did… they’d send me back. I couldn’t go back to that cell. I couldn’t. I couldn’t go back…”

I told myself this was just the Nightmare talking, that Leo wouldn’t be saying any of this if he wasn’t still under its sway. But what if it wasn’t that? What if, for him, this had always been more than just the two of us playing a part in the show?

“Jake!” Sorrell’s sudden shriek jarred me from the thought.

Wren had just put her glasses back on. She took Sorrell in her arms, sweeping away the fair strands of hair tangled around her face.

“Let go!” Sorrell squirmed, unaware whose embrace she resisted, her eyes black as starless night. “Let go of me! Jake, wait! Jake!”

Wren held her tight, uttering fervid words of comfort as Sorrell continued to thrash and scream, until eventually, the paralysis set in and she went still.

“This is happening to the whole ship?” Wren looked to us.

Our grim, unanimous silence served as her answer. None of us wanted to acknowledge the deleterious ill befalling the ship outside of this bunker.

Wren glared at the orange mask hanging uselessly at Sorrell’s fingertips. She picked it up and seethed. “I should’ve told her to put it on.” She pressed her head to Sorrell’s. “I should’ve told you…” she repeated softly. “I’m sorry, So. I should’ve told you why I left. I should’ve told you.” She lifted her head, turning to the rest of us. “Could this kill her?” she asked.

“No,” Tye answered without hesitation. “Thane’s not killing anyone. Anymore.”

“You would know,” Kyla muttered a tad too audibly.

Tye cocked his head. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“Don’t, Tye,” Kyla returned. “Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about—how lately, when Thane snaps his fingers, you turn into the proverbial good soldier! And suddenly none of us matter! Just your orders!”

“I don’t have a choice!” Tye fired back.

“We all have a choice!” Kyla countered. “Lucas gave his life before he let Thane turn him into something he wasn’t!”

“No, he didn’t!” Tye snapped. “Lucas isn’t dead!”

Silence rendered the bunker.

The ire drained from Kyla’s face as she took a single step toward Tye. “What?”

“He’s not dead,” Tye repeated. “Thane has Lucas. Alive.”

Alive. The word seemed to echo endlessly through the bunker as Tye paced the narrow floor. “Lucas is why I did everything that I did,” he explained. “I know I haven’t always been a model commander, but that was before I found out that he’s alive. Now… I’m just trying to keep him that way.”

Kyla regarded Tye in silence. “He’s… alive?” she finally uttered.

Tye’s eyes sparked with hope that died just as quickly—a flash in the pan. “For now…”

“How long have you known about this?” Kyla asked. “Wait. Let me guess. Was it around the time you finally decided to leave your room and rejoin what’s left of the world? Is this why?”

“Look, I know I lost it when Lucas disappeared,” Tye admitted. “I went way off the deep end and I couldn’t bring myself back. That’s why Thane finally told me the truth.”

“All this time…” Kyla murmured. “Tye, how could you not tell me?”

“Because I knew what you would say.”

It took Kyla a moment to comprehend his meaning. “Tye”—she narrowed her eyes at him—“how do you know Lucas is alive?”

Tye’s rigid glare crumpled into dejection.

“Have you actually seen him?” Kyla pried.

Tye shook his head. “I only saw his file. It said he was imprisoned the day I thought—the day I was told he was executed. He had a prisoner’s tag on his arm in the picture, and…” He gave up there, relenting under the duress of Kyla’s inquisitive stare.

“So, you’re basing this on a picture in a file that Thane only showed you when he saw you weren’t going to pull it together on your own?” Kyla impugned.

“See? This is why I didn’t tell you sooner!” Tye said. “I knew you’d tell me that believing Lucas is alive just because Thane says so is delusional!”

“It is!” Kyla shrugged incredulously. “Look, I want to believe it too, but Thane lied to you, Tye. You have to see that. He just didn’t want to lose you both as commanders.”

“Thane has a propensity for exploiting people’s weaknesses to bend them to his will.” Wren’s words came to mind again.

Thane knew that if he presented Tye with even a pittance of possibility that Lucas was alive, Tye would’ve cooperated to any degree for a chance to see his brother again.

“Thane is a pathological liar,” Kyla reminded him. “He would’ve said anything to get you to⁠—”

“I know!” Tye fumed, then softened his voice. “I know, Kyla.”

“Then why would you believe him? Lucas has been gone for three years.”

“I know,” Tye juddered. “But gone… doesn’t necessarily mean dead. I think Lucas is alive… because I don’t think Thane killed any of the passengers who disappeared. He just locked the refractory ones away somewhere where they wouldn’t be a problem anymore. I think he wanted us to believe he killed them so we wouldn’t go looking for them… and to scare us into falling in line. But the truth is… he can’t afford to lose any of us. And he can’t afford to lock any more of us up either. That’s why he’s doing this.” Tye gestured to the bunker we had sealed ourselves in to avoid the egregious poison infecting the ship.

“Tye, thousands went missing when your brother did,” Kyla scrupled. “Where would Thane even be hiding that many people?”

“I don’t know,” Tye confessed. “But this is a big ship. I mean you saw that subfloor last night. It’s massive, and most people don’t even know it exists. There have to be more places like it—hidden places.”

“Fine,” Kyla conceded. “Let’s say Lucas is alive somewhere on the ship. If that’s the reason you suddenly decided to become one of Thane’s lackeys, then why help us depose him?”

“Because last night, I finally realized the truth,” Tye answered. “If Thane locked those people away because he perceived them as a threat, then nothing I did was going to change that, one way or the other. He was never going to kill Lucas, but he was never going to release him either—not until we ground, whenever that will be.”

“I think you’re right,” Wren chimed in. We all looked to her. Sorrell’s head rested on a pillow in her lap now. “Thane didn’t kill any of the passengers who disappeared,” Wren concurred. “But wherever he’s got them… he’s the only one who knows about it.”

“What makes you say that?” I asked.

“Because this isn’t the first I’ve heard of it,” Wren said. “They talk about it in the Directive too—the disappeared passengers… still alive somewhere. But no one knows where or how many, except Thane.”

“But they say they’re alive?” Tye reiterated.

Wren nodded, pushing up her glasses. “That’s the rumor.”

“I knew it.” Tye laughed. “Thane’s been holding them all hostage until we ground. I just didn’t understand how far off that day was until⁠—”

“Until I told you last night,” I realized aloud.

Tye nodded. “When I heard you talking about crashing the Arc, I knew it was my only chance to find Lucas and break him out of whatever cage Thane’s been keeping him in for the last three years.”

Suddenly I felt a writhing guilt, seeing now that I’d unknowingly convinced Tye that we had a real shot at usurping Thane, that he had a shot at seeing his brother again. All this time, I’d been blaming Tye for our failed plan… when he had the most to lose if it didn’t succeed.

“Wait”—I turned to him, still harboring one last qualm—“this still doesn’t explain why you were holding Cace offstage at the assembly this morning. You know what that looked like, right? I thought you told Thane where to find them.”

“Yeah, I know what it looked like,” Tye said measuredly.

“Then why did you do it?”

“Because Thane did find them,” he returned. “I didn’t tell him, but somehow he knew where they were and what they were doing. I’d switched my comm to the Regna Garrison’s channel to report in before the assembly. That was when I overheard Thane sending a unit down to the subfloor. I realized we’d been made, so I ditched my post to go with them and run some interference. I didn’t exactly have a chance to tell you.” He directed this at Kyla. “I was busy trying to radio Wren to tell her to hide and shut off her comm.”

“That’s why I couldn’t reach her,” Kyla realized.

“It’s true,” Wren confirmed. “Tye’s warning was the only reason I was able to hide in time. I wanted to warn Sorrell and Cace to hide, too, but they’d gone to scrounge up some food from the warehouse and there wasn’t time. I was seconds away from transmitting the termination code to the Arc when I got word. I had to make a choice.” Wren shrugged guiltily.

Still, considering how she fretted over Sorrell now, I found it hard to believe she would just leave her in the lurch when the blackvests came for them.

“Once we got down there,” Tye said, “I pulled Sorrell aside and asked her if it was done.” He looked to Wren. “She confirmed that all you had to do was pull the trigger. Then I heard the other commanders say they were bringing Cace to the Assembly Hall on Thane’s orders, so I volunteered to take him. I figured with Wren’s comm down, maybe I could get up there in time to let you know the plan was still on,” he addressed this at me. “When we got to the stage, I saw you step up to the podium. That’s when I radioed Kyla to tell her we were still a go.”

“You gave the signal,” I realized.

Tye nodded. “I’m sorry about Cace,” he said, “but I swear I never told Thane where he was. I wanted to let Cace go the second you saw us with him, but I had to wait for the right moment. As soon as I saw the chance, I released him. I even stunned that other commander so he could get away. You have to believe me, Aiza.”

“I do, Tye,” I found myself saying.

“I still don’t know how Thane knew,” Tye seethed. “You were on a blacked-out floor, working from an untraceable computer.” He was speaking to Wren, but he wasn’t looking at her. “Your tags were dead. You were completely off the grid, and he still found you. Somehow he’s always a step ahead.”

Tye threw a lazy punch at one of the bedrails, then sank down onto one of the lower bunks, his massive figure hardly fitting in its frame. He buried his face in his hands, so I might not have made out what he uttered next, except that I’d heard him say it before. “He’s got eyes and ears everywhere…”

I looked at Sorrell, the small circle of scars still marking her lower neck from the bug. “He’s always watching. Always listening,” her words stirred.

“There is nowhere you can go on this ship that I don’t see,” Thane’s acrid voice chased hers away.

It was true. It wasn’t just that he’d found them down on that subfloor. He knew about everything I’d disclosed to Cace in confidence in the greenhouse. He knew about the dresser I’d torn apart in my room, the poem I’d hidden in the drawer. He knew that I remembered the Exitus, even before I spoke of it. Somehow, Thane always knew everything.

Nowhere to run. Nowhere to hide.

Even with the Arc neutralized, it seemed there was still no escape from Thane.

Once Sorrell and Leo were finally sleeping soundly, the rest of us settled into our beds for the night. We all opted for lower bunks, me claiming the one across from Leo so I could keep an eye on him.

I didn’t fall asleep right away. My ribs were still sore and I was worried about Cace. And, if I was being honest, there were two other individuals consuming my sleepless mind—the boy who had gone missing in my Nightmare… and his anonymous abductor. Just thinking of the shadowy figure from my dream made me restless.

“No! Wait! I can’t leave him!” My own cries from that night pealed through my head as I recalled being dragged away from that empty alley. “Please! I promised I wouldn’t leave him!”

But I did leave him. I left to get help, and when I came back, the boy was gone.

How could I remember that night so clearly, feel the fear so profoundly… and not remember who the boy was? Or his captor?

Because this is the Aureate, I reminded myself. We all forgot a lifetime of people who meant everything to us once… All it took was the prick of a needle.

I tossed and turned as the night wore on, contemplating the missing boy while fiddling with the gold pin still stuck in my hair. Eventually, it became clear I was not the only one awake.

“Can’t sleep?” Tye’s whisper came from the bed at the head of mine.

“No,” I sighed.

“Me neither. You worried about Cace? You know we’ll find him.”

I shook my head. “Even if we do, it’ll be too late. Yesterday, Thane told me he’s going to rescrub him. Me too… once things quiet down a little.”

“Well,” Tye said, after a lag, “good thing we haven’t let things get too quiet.”

I smiled. I wasn’t sure if it was my restored trust in him, or the fact that I felt more hidden in this bunker from Thane’s listening ears, but something compelled me to finally divulge the truth I’d kept from Tye all these years.

“Tye”—I sat up, spinning around to face him—“I have to tell you something.”

Tye grabbed a rung above his head and pulled himself up. “Okay…”

“The day the Exitus hit Eiena… you were part of an extraction team that was sent to get me out,” I said. “You saved my life that day. Twice.”

Tye’s eyes gleamed in the low light, unblinking. I figured I sounded crazy to him… until he said, “You remember that?”

“Y-you remember?” I stammered. “I just figured they scrubbed you afterwards.”

“They did,” Tye muttered. “And it erased everything else. But I still remember that day like it was yesterday.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Because we don’t talk about it.”

“We? You mean you and the team sent down with you that day?”

Tye nodded. “At first,” he explained, “we didn’t talk about it because none of us wanted to. We each thought we were the only ones who remembered. By the time we realized that wasn’t the case, we’d seen what became of those who were rescrubbed, and none of us wanted to end up like that. So we made a pact to keep our silence.”

“Why didn’t you say anything to me, though?” I asked.

“Because I thought at least you forgot it. And I wanted to keep it that way. They warned us it wouldn’t be easy to go back there,” he said in a thin voice. “For a minute, it looked like we’d have time to get you out without seeing the worst of it. But when that first quake hit…” Tye shook his head. “I don’t think any of us understood how hard it would be… to be surrounded by all those terrified people we couldn’t save. The only thing that got me through it was focusing on saving you. It was all I wanted to do, and not just because I had orders. You were just a kid then. I know it doesn’t usually feel like time flies up here, but when I see you”—he lifted his eyes, giving a faint, but proud smile—“I see how much has changed these last few years. You’re not that scared little kid anymore, Aiza.”

I smiled too, but it was bittersweet. “Do you think we’re the only ones who remember that day?” I asked.

“We were the only ones who saw it,” Tye replied. “Everyone else was already here.”

“What?” I blinked. “Tye, is that true?”

Tye squinted at me. “You didn’t know that? Aiza, you and Leo were the only two passengers still on the ground that morning. Everyone else was already here on the ship, safe and sound. Scrubbed and tagged.”

“I didn’t know that,” I said absently, suddenly recalling something I hadn’t thought about in years. When those commanders sat me in that scrubbing lab chair beneath that lonely light, they’d said, “She’s the very last one.”

“What about the other one?” the woman in the white coat asked. “The boy?”

“That day…” I began, “you talked about a team that was sent to get another kid out at the same time as me. You’re saying that kid was Leo?”

“Wow.” Tye flicked his brow. “You really do remember. Yeah, it was Leo. An emergency extraction was not Plan A for you guys. We trained for a rescue mission, but that was supposed to be worst-case. You were never supposed to see the quakes hit. None of us were. But… plans go awry in the Age of the Exitus.”

“‘That whack-job, Hale, was off…’” I said under my breath.

“What?”

“That’s what you said in the helicopter that day. You said you were supposed to have more time, but Hale’s prediction was off. That’s why Leo and I were still down there when it hit.”

“Yeah.” Tye gave a short, joyless laugh. “And now we all get to live with the memories. Guess there are some things the scrub can’t erase.”

“Hale is on the ship, right?” I asked.

Tye nodded. “That’s the rumor. No one knows who he is, though. Whoever he is, I bet he never had to see the quakes when they hit.”

“Leo doesn’t remember it,” I said, glancing over at him, sound asleep in the bunk across the way. “Not anymore. That’s why Thane kept him in that cell, scrubbing and rescrubbing him until it finally worked.”

“Are you sure it worked?”

I shot Tye a quizzical look. “What do you mean?”

“I mean… if we’ve just been pretending to forget it, maybe Leo has too. Maybe he just wanted out of that cell. I wouldn’t blame him. And I don’t know of anyone who was on the ground that day who actually forgot it. Even Lucas remembered it.”

“Lucas was there?” I blurted.

“Not with us,” Tye clarified. “He was on the team sent for Leo.”

Suddenly the conversation Tye had with the commander in the hangar that day came back to me. “Have you heard anything from the other team? Did they get the other kid out?” Then, just before he took me inside the ship, he asked, “You’ll let me know when he gets back?”

“You’ll be the first,” the commander had promised him.

Tye wasn’t asking about Leo. He was asking about his brother.

“I was so worried about him out there,” Tye said. “I guess in the end, it wasn’t the Exitus I had to worry about.”

“Is that why you were assigned to Leo when he was released?” I asked, finally piecing it all together. “Because it was supposed to be Lucas’s job?”

Tye nodded. “Until he got put away, too. Lucas was one of the last to disappear. And the first… was the kid who originally had Leo’s ID number—the one whose picture we saw in that subfloor database.”

I frowned. Now that he mentioned it, I did remember Tye being the one to change the subject when we found that picture in Leo’s file. “Why didn’t you tell Leo?” I asked.

“Because I didn’t want him reading into it,” Tye answered, a grave look in his eye.

“That kid…” I hazarded a guess, “he died, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know for sure,” Tye said. “But I’d wager that either he died before they could get him here… or he was here, and Thane deemed him unfit for the role. Either way, I don’t think it would benefit Leo to know that he… replaced him.”

I nodded, imagining for the briefest of moments how different things might’ve been if I’d been paired with that other boy instead of Leo. But something inside of me instantly repelled the idea of a world where Leo’s life ended the day the Exitus hit. Even if I didn’t know yet what we were to each other, I knew I wanted him here, alive.

“Tye, was there ever… someone before me?” I asked, a little afraid of the answer.

“Not that I know of…” Tye trailed, his gaze now settled on the bed where Kyla lay. She had one arm over her head, her brown hair fanned across the pillow, her lips fluttering softly as she dreamed.

“She’s missed you too, you know,” I found myself saying. Tye locked eyes with me, cautious hope replacing despair. “She told me you guys were close before Lucas went missing.”

Tye’s smile was heavy. “Things were good in the beginning,” he said. “Even with the Exitus happening outside… here, with her and Lucas… somehow, things were good. Then Lucas disappeared. And by the time I finally pulled myself together, I’d lost her too. Or, I thought I had… until the day you two showed up in my gym.” His gaze gravitated back to Kyla. “I spent so long wishing for a second chance with her. And then, one day, she was standing there in front of me again. By the way, if I’ve never thanked you for being a distraction in class…” He gave me a nudge.

I snorted. “Don’t mention it. You did save my life once. How about we call it even?”

“I seem to recall you saying I did that twice.” A pert grin slid across his face, but a reminiscent frown soon weighed it back down. “For all the distance I’ve driven between us over the years,” he said quietly, “she’s stayed with me. I could never get her out of my head. And the thing is… I don’t want to anymore. I really don’t want to lose her a second time. I love her.”

“Tye,” I hesitated to say it, but the thought of Cace not knowing who I was the next time I saw him compelled me to, “you should tell her.”

Tye drew an anxious breath. “You really think she wants to hear it?”

I shrugged. “Does it matter? It’s the Exitus. You never know what’ll happen.” I turned around, hunkering back down in my bed. “You should tell her while you can.”

“I’m scared I’ll lose her again,” I heard him murmur.

“You won’t,” I said, laying my head on the pillow and shutting my eyes. “You’ve stayed with her too.”

The next morning, I awoke to a gentle touch on my shoulder. I opened my eyes.

“Leo?” I sat up, blinking him into focus as he stood over me, looking miraculously recovered. “You look… better.” I laughed in disbelief.

“I feel better.” He gave a spry shrug. “Thirsty, though.”

“Me too,” I realized as I sat up, gripping my stinging ribs. “What time is it?”

“Not sure,” Leo said. “I’m not even sure what day it is. Tuesday, I think?”

I glanced over and spotted Tye and Kyla talking in low voices in one corner of the bunker, Sorrell sitting with Wren across the way. She looked better, too. I wanted to ask her how she was feeling, but before I could, a surge of white noise suddenly came from Tye’s comm.

“East G wing bunker,” the patchy voice said. “Floor thirteen.”

“Heading there now,” another replied.

“They know we’re here,” Tye announced to the room.

“How?” Wren exclaimed.

“Doesn’t matter. We need to get out of this bunker,” Kyla said.

“How are we going to do that?” Tye posed. “The Nightmare is still out there.”

“We don’t know that,” she countered.

“What about our masks?” I asked, at the risk of suggesting the obvious.

Tye shook his head. “No charge left.” He grabbed one and pressed the seal to demonstrate. Nothing happened. “See? Dead.”

“We don’t know for certain that the toxin is still airborne,” Wren pointed out. “We do know those commanders are on their way to detain us right now.”

“We’ve been in here all night,” Sorrell said. “It should be clear out there by now, right?”

“There’s one way to find out,” I suggested.

Tye and Kyla exchanged wary glances.

“If it’s not clear, we’ll come right back here,” Leo said, helping me convince them. “We’ll let the chamber purge whatever’s on us… and then find some other way to keep those commanders off our backs.”

“Fine,” Tye conceded. “But just… try not to breathe out there until we’re sure.”

“Oh, great,” Kyla remarked.

Tye hit the button and the hermetic chamber doors opened. We all filed inside.

Leo looked one last time at the group of us, confirming before he tapped the button to open the damper wall. It parted with a loud buzz, and Leo and I stepped out first, crossing through the briefing room and into the hall outside.

“Wait,” I said, noting the slight shimmer in the air around us.

But it was too late. The strange scent was already making my head swirl. Leo was swaying and stumbling, unable to keep his balance.

Sorrell had made it out with us and was giggling deliriously at the light dancing on her skin.

“What’s happening to them?” Wren’s voice came from the conference room behind us.

“Don’t go over there,” I heard Kyla say.

“Sorrell?” Wren called.

“Don’t!” Tye exclaimed.

I tried to turn around, but everything was spinning. Finally, amidst the turning, tumbling chaos, I found Tye and Kyla, dragging Wren back behind the damper wall just before it closed again.

“We… sh-shouldn’t have… come out.” My words slurred as the world seemed to melt around me, the miasma tingling as it invaded my nervous system. I held my hand in front of me, watching my skin go pale, my veins lighting up and then turning that dark, detrimental color.

Within seconds, Leo, Sorrell, and I were on the floor.

As I lay there, immobilized, eclipsed in the chemicalized fumes, I noticed the smell seemed oddly familiar. Or rather, it was some reductive version of a scent I knew, but couldn’t place where from—not before the Nightmare took hold, flooding my senses and sending me back to that alley, back to that fateful night.

It was all so discordant this time—more dream than memory.

A face, a smile, a hand, a gold coin, a brick building, a wooden swing, a diamond bracelet, a white paper bird, a shiny black car, rain falling heavy on a window, a pair of muddied sneakers, a yellow carnation, the golden gates that towered outside of Altus, the marble fountain in the courtyard, and then⁠—

Nothing. Darkness.

Boom! The echoing thud sounded.

A single streetlamp came on, shining a pyramid of light down on the alley—the last place I’d seen the boy before he was taken.

I approached, slowly at first, then I picked up my pace.

“Hello?” I called out, but no one answered. Again, he wasn’t here.

I felt my chest sink with disappointment. Then suddenly, a dark figure dashed across the light, like a pestilential creature scurrying from one shadowy corner to the next.

I tried to quiet my quickening pulse as I listened to the footsteps recede into the distance.

“Hello?” I called again, venturing a step forward.

Whoosh! In a heartbeat, the figure dressed in darkness was towering over me, blocking every shred of light. I gasped and stumbled back, beholding the man in the black cloak, the wide brim of his hat pulled down over his face, concealing it in impossibly dark shadows.

“Where is he?” I said to the figure. “I know you took him.” When he gave no answer, I raised my voice and asked again, “Where is he?”

The shadow offered no reply. Instead, with a flick of his cloak, he turned and disappeared back into the darkness.

The Man in Shadows, the words came to me.

That was what I called him… before I was made to forget him.

I wanted to go after the man, but I couldn’t seem to move, and before I managed so much as a step, I heard a sound that stopped me cold.

The earth gave a low, voracious rumble.

I froze in my tracks and looked up, the brick walls of the narrow alley rattling above me, raining down sedimentary particles.

I whirled around and found myself suddenly surrounded by daylight, as if an eclipse had lifted. I blinked in the abrupt brightness as the shaking escalated.

Crash! I heard the clang of metal hitting the ground.

I peered around the corner just in time to see the fallen cage of birds break open, the entire volary pouring out of it and absconding to the austere sky.

But where will you go? I wondered as I watched them soar into the horizon.

Then I heard the running footsteps again. I looked over my shoulder and gasped as a dark figure emerged through the fog of refuse and ruin, charging at me.

As I watched it approach, I realized it was not the Man in Shadows, but a commander in full armor. He grabbed hold of my arm as he raced past, pulling me alongside him. “I gotcha, kiddo!”

I turned to the soldier. “Tye?”

He lifted the visor of his helmet, flashing me a smile. “Come on! We gotta go!”

“No! Wait!” I pulled back. “I can’t leave him! Please! I promised I wouldn’t leave him!”

“No time!” Tye dragged me away from the alley. “We have to get out of here now!”

“No!” I planted my feet firmly in the dirt, dust kicking up around me.

Tye stopped running. The shaking ceased and we were left standing in the stillness of the empty alley. I turned back to where the boy was supposed to be.

“What did I tell you, kiddo?” Tye said, kneeling in front of me. “Don’t look back.”

“I can’t leave him,” I uttered, my eyes welling with tears that didn’t quite spill.

Tye offered a comforting smile, but what he said next extinguished all the warmth of it. “You already did. He’s gone. He begged you not to leave him, but you did.”

“I… I went to get help,” I tried to defend the mistake I’d made all those years ago, my mind racing to recall what had happened, but it was all so fuzzy and far away. “He needed help. He… he was hurt.”

“He needed you to stay with him,” Tye reproached. “But you didn’t. You knew someone was after him, and you were afraid. So you ran. Just like you always do.”

“Stop,” I begged, shutting my eyes.

“Who was after him?”

“I don’t know…”

“Yes, you do. Come on, Aiza. Remember,” Tye urged. “Who took him that night?”

“I don’t know!” I yelled, but when I opened my eyes again, Tye wasn’t there. I was alone in that alley and night had fallen again.

I looked to that empty spot in the moonlit alley, and I realized it was not just fear, but guilt that shadowed this memory.

“I’m sorry,” I said to the boy, nowhere to be found. “I’m sorry I left you.”

“Ah!” I surfaced from the dream, pulling fiercely for air as I came to.

I sat up in a narrow, unfamiliar bed and glanced around, taking in the small, strange room around me. Where am I?

I looked down at my wrist. My tag was still off. I supposed that was a good sign.

Then I looked to my left and my heart nearly stopped. There was a door—steel, square, with a single, slot-shaped window in the middle.

No…

I stumbled off the bed and staggered over to it. I peered through the slot and immediately jumped back. Someone was standing outside.

The figure turned just enough that I could see the silhouette of his slightly hunched back. Thane.

A beep sounded, followed by a loud buzz, and my cell door opened.

I took a wary step forward, but paused… detecting the faint, but distinct hum in the air.

“Aiza. I’m sure you can guess why you’re here,” Thane’s voice chirred through the nearly invisible live barrier between us.

“Because I destroyed the Arc,” I said, mostly just to see if it was true.

Thane’s grating grin remained imperturbable.

“Fine,” I yielded. “I’m here because you see now that you chose the wrong person for this. I’m not what I was supposed to be. I’m a mistake, and mistakes disappear here.”

I didn’t know why I said it. Maybe I just needed to hear him admit that it was partly his fault I was in here—that lying and keeping secrets from me all these years and then forcing me into the spotlight to answer for his arrogance had backfired.

“You are not a mistake,” Thane snarled. “You’ll come to accept your purpose here, in time. Meanwhile, you can stay here and reflect on how your misguided little crusade to free the people from the Directive’s oppression… failed.”

“So that’s it?” I threw my arms out. “You’re just going to leave me down here? What about Leo?” I demanded. “Did you lock him up too?”

“What do you think?” Thane snipped.

I winced, imagining Leo coming to and finding himself right back in the waking nightmare from which he’d only just escaped.

“And… the others?” I relucted to ask. “Kyla and Tye? Sorrell and Wren?”

“Wren has been treading on thin ice for some time,” Thane said. “Since she was the one who hacked the Arc, I had no choice but to incarcerate her. As for the others, they will be given one last chance to reevaluate their position.”

“They won’t,” I riposted stubbornly. “They’re free now. And you can’t take that back. Not without inciting a war.”

I wasn’t oblivious to the irony of my giving such a speech from within a cell, and neither was Thane, according to the vexatious grin that slipped across his face.

“Oh, I don’t know,” he chided. “See, freedom… comes at a price. Some are willing to pay it. Some are not…”

He stepped aside, revealing who stood behind him.

“Cace!” I started toward him, but something stopped me, and it wasn’t necessarily the barrier.

Something was different.

Cace was dressed in tails similar to Thane’s. His moppy bronze hair had been trimmed and neatly groomed. But neither of those things troubled me half as much as his eyes. They were… empty. Hollow. The light inside them gone.

“Cace?” I beckoned faintly, drawing a little too close to the charged barrier between us as I searched desperately for some indication that he still knew me. I knew he couldn’t see me, so I used my voice. “Cace, it’s me… Aiza?”

Cace didn’t respond or react in any discernible way.

“Cace, you—ah!” I came too close to the barrier and it zapped me.

Thane chuckled as I stumbled back. I glowered. He’d made good on his promise. He had scrubbed Cace, and the only reason he hadn’t bothered to scrub me was because he planned to leave me in this cell.

“Cace,” Thane summoned him. “Come, son.”

Cace hesitated a moment, then took Thane’s arm and allowed his father to lead him back to the elevator that had brought them both down to this oubliette hidden beneath the ship. It seemed it was in working order again.

I sank to the floor as my cell door closed, and pulled my knees to my chest, trying not to think about what Thane had done to Cace. The more my thoughts pushed away from Cace, though, the more they were pulled to the Nightmare I had just awoken from.

“Remember,” an intangible voice thundered in my head. It was Tye’s. Or, rather, the version of him that had confronted me in the dream.

“Come on, Aiza. Remember,” the voice beckoned again, exhorting me to recall who had taken the boy that night.

All my life, I had remembered a shadow. I thought it was the Exitus—the shadow of fear for the impending disaster. But now I remembered… it was a person. The Man in Shadows. He followed me everywhere, to every new home they placed me in. No one ever saw him but me, and I never saw his face. My guardians never believed me about him, and eventually I stopped telling them.

But he never went away.

I remembered now. He was the reason I always ran. It wasn’t the system I was always so desperate to escape. It was him.

“We’ve been watching you all your life…” Thane’s words invaded.

But if the Man in Shadows had been watching me all those years… why did he take the boy that night?

Days turned to weeks in that cell.

I counted the passage of time by tallying the meals delivered to me.

“You’re just here to play your part…” Kyla’s words taunted me frequently, “for as long as he needs you. And there will come a time when he won’t anymore…”

I should’ve listened. Now I was one of them—the disappeared passengers, left for dead on this subfloor, never to be seen again until we grounded. If that day ever came.

I wanted to believe Cace would come for me, but it had been twenty-three days since he’d left with Thane in that elevator. If there was any part of him that remembered me, any part that cared I was down here at all, he would’ve come by now.

I might’ve lost it completely, confined to that tiny cell, had it not been for the purple pen I’d fortunately found wedged under the mattress on my first night. At first, I just used it to tally the days that passed. But, thanks to incredible boredom that I didn’t know I was capable of feeling, I soon began to draw pictures on the walls, the floor, even on my own skin.

Still, even with that element of entertainment, I was deteriorating quickly. I paced the floor until I was dizzy. I dug my nails into the walls, just to see what it would take to scratch my way out. I had developed a sort of twitch in my right leg every time I found myself sitting. Sometimes I would shout spontaneously at the top of my lungs, just to see if anyone would answer. But, of course, no one did.

I was losing my mind in that cell. I wondered how Leo had made it through years of this insufferable isolation and came out so sane.

Finally, on day twenty-four, my slot opened at an unusually early hour. I went to it, expecting to find a tray of food, but instead I was greeted by a familiar pair of eyes.

“Cace,” I gasped, not entirely sure he wasn’t a hallucination at this point.

“Aiza.” My name on his lips was like a tether binding us together, unsevered by the scrub. He does remember me.

“What are you doing here?” I asked.

“I came for you,” he said.

I wanted to question why he came now, after I’d spent weeks down here, but I gave him a chance to explain first. “Cace, what’s going on?”

“The Arc is back up,” he said. “Everything is back to the way it was.”

I was quiet. Something about the way he’d delivered the news irked me. “You sound… relieved.”

Cace shrugged. “It’s better than the alternative. You have no idea the upheaval we caused. It was bad, Aiza. The Directive just finally got a handle on things.”

“So we didn’t change anything,” I inferred.

“We are changing things,” Cace argued. “It’s not the same up there now.”

Something unnerved me about the way he said that, too, and it didn’t take me long to figure out what. We didn’t mean he and I. It meant he and Thane. Cace didn’t just look like Thane in that suit. He sounded like him, too.

Maybe Thane hadn’t scrubbed Cace, but he’d done something to him.

He must have.

“Why are you here, Cace?” I asked him outright.

“I just… didn’t want you to think that I had…”

“Forgotten me?” I said bitingly.

I expected him to argue, but he didn’t. He just stood there, those slightly amiss blue eyes unblinking. “Please don’t make this harder than it has to be,” he uttered.

“Make what harder?”

He pressed his fingertips to the window between us, something like regret shaping his gaze. “Goodbye.”

“Cace?” I pleaded as his hand fell away from the glass, and he turned around to walk away from me. Again. “Why did you even bother coming back?” I shouted impulsively.

Cace paused. “One day you’ll understand, Aiza,” he said over his shoulder, “why everything happened the way that it did.”

And with that, he was gone.

I whirled around and returned to my cot. I dug the purple pen out from under my pillow and began drawing furiously on the floor. I drew trees, flowers, ocean—all things that didn’t exist here—while I worked out what Thane had done to Cace, and why it left me feeling so aggravated.

Something about all of this felt wrong.

Finally, on a blank spot in the middle of the floor, I drew a bird in flight, like the one on Kyla’s shoulder. But it looked lonely there, so I drew a skein of birds around it. Behind the flock, I drew a sun setting behind the mountains, and when I’d finished, I wrote the words from the poem below it.

‘Beware this creature; into fire it will fly…’

‘Never again to fear the ground… Never again to be captive and bound,’ the prose continued in my mind as I stood back and marveled at my work.

“See?” Cace’s voice seemed to whisper, familiar and sweet. “You do think about the end of the road.”

And suddenly it all came back to me in a spate—everything Cace had ever said that… stayed with me.

“You don’t have to be alone, Aiza.”

“I’m here. I’m right here.”

“I don’t care about any end of the road where you’re not with me. Being here, living day after day just waiting for life to start again… it only became worth it when I met you. I can’t just forget you.”

“I’d rather spend my life fighting to be this close to you… than forget you.”

And suddenly I knew what was so upsetting about Cace’s visit.

He left me here.

Cace would never leave me here.

Just then, the music outside became garbled. I hadn’t even realized it was playing until it slowed, its pitch warbled and warped, as if coming from an old record player that had suddenly stopped working.

The song wound down… and then a new piece started up, clear and clarion.

Debussy’s Reverie.

A dreamlike state.

As the melody played, I held up the pen I was using to draw… and my hand began to shake.

I had used this pen incessantly these past few weeks, and it never ran out of ink.

I never ran out of space to draw. These drawings… they weren’t even mine. I’d never drawn anything like these in my life.

I gasped, dropping the pen as the purple images suddenly seemed to come to life around me.

None of this was real.

The twenty-four days I had spent in this cell… they were just a dream.

I was still trapped in a Nightmare.

I need to wake up, I thought, panicked by the terrifying knowledge that I was trapped in a dream I couldn’t surface from.

Wake up! I implored myself. Please… please wake up!

I looked over and saw that the door to my cell was wide open now.

Cace was standing outside, but he wasn't facing me. It was as if he didn't even know I was here.

The Nightmare was losing tangibility. Edges became blurred. Colors faded.

I reached out, but my hand was shocked back again.

“Cace?” I called, not sure he could hear me.

A single beam of light shined on him. Everything else was just shadows.

“Cace!” I screamed his name.

Finally, he turned to me. “Aiza,” he said, “it’s all a show.”

Then the light cut out and darkness surrounded me again.

My eyes shot open as I startled awake, gasping.

It wasn’t real. I told myself. None of it was real.

My tongue felt like rubber.

I sat up, blinking in the blur of white around me. Med again.

I groaned, holding my wrist out in front of me. Still no tag.

I ran my fingers through my hair, grazing the gold pin still entangled in it from the ceremony. How long ago was that?

I gripped my ribcage, but strangely, there was no ache anymore.

I looked down. There was no white sheet over me this time, no linen smock. In fact, I was still in my uniform, boots and all.

Suddenly, the curtain in front of me slashed back, a figure also in a blue uniform entering with his back to me, watching the aisle outside.

“Leo?” I rasped.

He turned. “You’re awake!” He rushed to my side. “How do you feel?”

“Is this… real?” I reached out and touched his shoulder.

Leo smiled, showing those dimples, the detail of which I knew I could never have dreamed. “Yes,” he said. “It’s real.”

“Sorry.” I laughed embarrassedly. “I know I must sound crazy. It’s just, I had this dream…”

“I know,” Leo said. “After dreaming for so long, I wasn’t sure I was really awake either at first. But… somehow you can tell when you’re awake, even if you can’t always tell when you’re asleep.”

“Right.” I laughed again, then my smile ebbed. “We’re in Med?”

Leo nodded, sharing in my suspicion.

I looked around, still parrying flashes of those cell walls covered in my mad, purple scribbles, and I wondered why Thane hadn’t seen fit to make that my new reality.

“My stomach hurts,” I grumbled. “How long have I been out?”

“I only woke up a few minutes ago myself,” Leo said, “but the front desk says it’s Saturday, so… four days?”

“Four days?” I echoed. The near-month I’d spent trapped in that dream… it had only been days in the waking world. I supposed this explained my healed ribs.

“I think they gave us fluids.” Leo clasped the crook of his arm with a wince. “But you’re probably starving. Here.” He reached into his pocket, pulled out a foil-wrapped protein bar, and handed it to me. “Sorry, it’s all I could find.”

“Thanks.” I took the bar and tore into it ravenously.

“Go easy,” Leo cautioned, clutching his stomach. “Eating too fast was my mistake.”

“Where are the others?” I asked, chewing more slowly. “Kyla and Tye? Wren and… Sorrell!” I gasped. “She was with us when we left the airlock bunker!”

“She’s in the bed across the way.” Leo motioned over his shoulder. “She’s the only one, though. I don’t know where the others are.”

I grimaced, remembering Thane still had Cace.

“Aiza, we should probably get out of here,” Leo said with sudden urgency, his amber eyes flitting around.

“No one knows we’re awake yet, do they?” I gathered.

Leo shook his head. “I haven’t seen anyone since I woke up. I don’t know who knows we’re here, but if we want to find the others, we should leave while we can.”

“Good plan,” I agreed. “Is Sorrell awake?”

Leo’s brow creased anxiously.

“What?”

“Well, she woke up once… but then she sedated herself again.”

“She sedated herself?” I repeated dumbly. “With what?”

Leo pointed to the left of my bed. I looked over… and to my horror, I found three syringes on the tray—two filled with pink liquid, one empty.

“They’re by all our beds,” Leo said. “Whoever put us here, I think they’ve been keeping us all sedated.”

I frowned, too foggy to put my finger on what exactly was so disconcerting about that notion. Whatever it was, it made me more eager to leave.

“Okay. Let’s get out of here,” I said, shooting to my feet and ignoring my spinning surroundings as I staggered over to Sorrell’s bed.

I drew back the curtain and found her sleeping soundly. I almost didn’t want to wake her. She didn’t appear to be caught in the throes of a Nightmare, but rather a serene dream.

“Sorrell,” I whispered, nudging her gently. She didn’t budge. “When did she sedate herself?” I asked Leo.

“Maybe a half-hour ago?” he guessed. “I’m not sure how long it takes to wear off.”

I turned back to Sorrell, speaking her name louder this time and giving her a firm jolt. She began to stir. Her peaceful expression soured, as if her sweet dreams had taken a dark turn.

“No…” she whimpered. “No… no! Jake!” She sat up, crying the name again, “Jake!” She glanced around, struggling between dream and reality. “Jake?”

I went to touch her shoulder, but she flinched, snatching up the sheets and clutching them tightly to her chest.

“It’s okay, Sorrell,” I coaxed softly. “It’s just me.”

But she didn’t seem to hear me. Her bloodshot eyes darted around in search of something. They locked on to the tray of syringes by her bed.

“Sorrell, no…”

Her hand shot to the tray, knocking one syringe to the ground as she fumbled to grip the other and raised it shakily to her arm.

“Sorrell!” I swiped it out of her hand just in time, holding it out of her reach.

“Give it to me!” she screamed in a beastly, unrecognizable voice.

“I can’t do that,” I said. “Look around, Sorrell. You’ve been asleep for days.”

Her expression shifted. She glanced around, suddenly displaced. “Days?” she breathed, clutching her ravel of hair.

“We all have,” I said, setting the needle carefully back on the tray and seating myself between it and her. “Sorrell, we have to go now. We have to find Wren.”

“Wren…” she repeated, a haze lifting at the mention of her name. “Where is she?”

“We don’t know,” Leo said. “But we should go if we want to find her, before they realize we’re awake. Here.” He pulled another protein bar from his pocket and offered it to her.

Sorrell’s glassy eyes oscillated between the bar and the syringe on the tray. Finally, she took the bar and tore it open.

Once she finished eating, she stood and followed us to the exit. No one came to stop us.

I didn’t know what we expected to find outside of Med—bodies sprawled on the ground, a chorus of Nightmare-plagued cries filling the floor, maybe an all-out war. But the reality was even more unsettling. It was quiet everywhere. Desolate. As if we were the only ones on the ship.

We padded quickly and quietly through the halls. At every corner, I expected to be met by an infantry of commanders ready to remand us. But we didn’t run into a soul.

“Where is everyone?” I whispered, as if talking too loudly might trigger some alarm in this eerie quiet. “Wait.” I stopped and raised my hand. “Listen…” I said, concentrating on the silence. “There’s no music.”

Leo and Sorrell exchanged blank looks, neither of them grasping the significance of its absence.

“Hang on…” Leo turned his ear. “Do you hear that?”

I listened closely, eventually picking up the distant racket.

“What is that?” Sorrell asked.

“I think it’s coming from the Main Deck,” I said.

We followed the sound, the pulsating noise growing louder with each step, until finally we stumbled onto a massive mob gathered on the concourse, craning and yelling disruptively.

I followed the aim of their raucous appeals all the way to the aerie above, where Thane stood in his perch.

I strained to hear the individual entreaties of the masses gathered below him. Some begged and pleaded, others demanded and made threats, but they all clamored for the same two things—to be made to forget again… and to unseat the Masked Primaries.

Nightmare. I seethed. They think we’re responsible for it. Of course. That was Thane’s intention.

He waited until we’d been crowned to unleash it, to make it look like our first order was to drown the ship in a malicious poison that revived their most fear-fraught memories.

“They’re asking for things to go back to the way they were before,” Leo observed. “Why doesn’t Thane just turn the tags back on?”

I glanced down at my tag, still inert. Leo’s and Sorrell’s were, too. I looked out at the dissonance—angry fists careening through the air—not a single glowing, blue ring among them.

“Because he can’t,” I said. “Wren destroyed the Arc irreparably. That’s why Thane had to retaliate with the Nightmare.”

“Isn’t that… good?” Leo asked, noting the unease in my voice.

I frowned at the din of outcry inundating the Main Deck. Visions of those birds breaking free of their cage flashed at me again, all fleeing to that gray sky while the quakes ravaged everything below… and suddenly our victory in eradicating the Arc seemed somewhat Pyrrhic.

Like the birds, we were all free now, with nowhere to go.

The Arc was not the real cage. The Aureate was. As long as we were on this ship, we were trapped. And now, with the Nightmare, Thane had done the one thing we never considered possible. He made them choose the cage.

Thane didn’t release the Nightmare to make the passengers fear him. He did it to incite fear for the world he couldn’t bring us back to. And it worked. No one wanted to return to the breeding ground of their Nightmares now. The truth about the Salvus Team would be buried, along with Thane’s belligerent prevarication of their demise and its implications for our future on the ground. Leo and I would be blamed for the Nightmare, the lies, the secrets… everything. We would be vilified as callow, capricious rulers, and Thane would be hailed our deliverer once again. Even through all of this, he would maintain the mask he’d always worn, whether in the spotlight or the shadows—the savior of humanity.

“It's all a show,” Cace’s words from my dream rang in my ear.

A show of masks, I realized as I glared at Thane looking down on us all in our calamity.

Wait, no. I took a step closer and realized he was looking at me.

“We’ve been spotted,” I said over the commotion, watching Thane retreat from his post as the elevator beneath him trilled. The doors glided open, and a troop of commanders filed out, carving a clear path toward us.

“Come on,” I bid Leo and Sorrell away.

As we departed from the crowded concourse, commanders hot on our trail, it suddenly occurred to me why there was no music playing.

Thane was no longer interested in inducing a tone of order and structure. He wanted the chaos, the fallout… the upheaval.

He let us sleep while it spread, keeping us sedated in Med while the rest of the ship woke. The Directive went dark, allowing people’s fear and confusion to compound into tumultuous dissension. Then, and only then, were we permitted to wake… and walk out of Med freely, fueled by the protein bars that had been left out to ensure we’d have strength enough to do so.

Thane wanted us to witness this—the upheaval we had caused.

Now that we had, he was coming for us.

We tore across the seventh floor, barely outrunning the band of commanders chasing us.

“Why is it…” Sorrell wheezed as we ran, “that whenever I’m with you… I’m either running, hiding, or being poisoned?”

I smiled.

Admittedly, it was a bit of a rude awakening to surface from a dream in which I’d been inarguably defeated, facing perpetuity in a cell, only to come to and realize that none of this was over yet.

But if Tye’s guess was right, there were still a lot of people for whom a cell was the reality they’d awoken to every day for the last three years, and they were still far from free. We had to find them and get them out.

And I had to find Cace.

Cace. It had been four days since Thane had taken him. Was there any chance at all that he hadn’t been rescrubbed?

“I can’t just forget you,” his words lingered. I wanted to believe they were true, but I knew better. The scrub was the great effacer of all memories, even the ones you never wanted to believe you could forget.

I put the distressing notion aside for the moment as I charged through the halls with Leo and Sorrell, and tried to work out our next move. I didn’t have long to formulate one. We rounded the oncoming corner, finally gaining some distance from the commanders, when we spotted a group of Directive members marching right toward us.

I backpedaled quickly. Thankfully, we saw them before they saw us.

“Quick, in here!” I whispered, waving Leo and Sorrell over to the first door I could find.

We crowded into the closet and shut the door, our heavy breathing drowned out by the hum of the water recycling tank behind us. We crouched, pressing our ears to the door as the Directive members stopped just outside.

“Are you sure this is where the commanders placed them?” one of them asked.

“This is ridiculous!” another carped. “We appointed this position to children so we’d be able to manage them, and now look what’s happened!”

“We wanted to guide them,” a familiar voice returned, “to teach them what they needed to know as early as possible.”

Thane.

“The boy isn’t the problem,” a fourth party member interjected. “It’s her.”

“She has never accepted this role,” another said. “She’s sabotaged it at every turn.”

“We could still find someone else,” one of them proffered. “No one will know the difference if we replace her now. No one’s seen her.”

“We don’t know that,” someone pointed out. “The whole ship very nearly saw her at that assembly. That wasn’t the plan, Chancellor.”

“I concede that many things didn’t go according to plan that day,” Thane rejoined, “but we are not replacing her. You know why it has to be her.”

So it was true. Whatever the reason, Thane needed me.

I shivered, something telling me I should fear that reason.

“She is indispensable,” Thane went on, “and I’m not about to let her propensity for going off-script upend it all. She just needs time. Remember, we’re focusing on the long-term plan.”

“Yes, but even that is failing… isn’t it, Chancellor?”

“You let me worry about that,” Thane muttered with umbrage. “In the meantime, I know how to counteract the insolence exhibited today.”

“And just how do we do that?” one of them challenged.

“The Argent,” Thane answered plainly.

At its mention, a memory surfaced. That lone file I found hovering on Thane’s desk the other day was labeled with the same name.

“The Argent was decommissioned,” the man to whom he spoke chortled.

“Then we recommission it,” Thane snapped. “Anyone who fails to follow their schedules—which will be reinstated tomorrow, with or without the Arc—will be put away. We start dragging off the delinquents again, we let the others draw their own conclusions about their fate, and order will soon be restored, just as last time.”

“Are you forgetting why we put the Argent initiative to rest last time? At the rate we were apprehending passengers, this entire ship would’ve been interned ten times over by now.”

“We only locked up a handful of passengers for defecting,” Thane disputed. “The rest were siblings, triggering each other’s memories, nullifying the effects of the scrub. Locking the younger ones away was the only tenable option. That was how we filled the Argent with forty-two hundred prisoners. This time, we’ll need only toss a few insurgents into the cage. The rest will fall in line. It worked before.”

“For a time,” one voice countered. “Then this happened! That girl hacked our network and obliterated the Arc in one night, and you gave her clearance.”

“Obviously entrusting her with that clearance was a mistake,” Thane assented. “But she was already working the system. I merely attempted to redirect her skillset to our advantage. I thought surely she’d comply, considering the collateral we had with her.”

“What collateral?”

“She has a sibling locked away, too—one with whom she’s eager to be reunited,” Thane replied. “In light of her recent actions, I’m thinking that can be arranged… once we apprehend her.”

“Wren…” Sorrell’s juddering whisper echoed through our current confinements.

“And how do you propose we do that?” one of them questioned. “Nearly every commander is down there revolting with the others. The tags are still down, and you haven’t caught a single one of these kids yet… except the crew boy.”

I pressed my sleeve to my mouth, stifling the scream that threatened to escape.

“This ship may be vast,” Thane huffed, exacerbated by all the voices of doubt, “but they’ll run out of places to hide eventually. Rest assured, when I catch them, the crew boy, the hacker, and all other accomplices to this mutiny will be implacably dealt with.”

A beep went off just then. I panicked it was one of us, but then I heard Thane sigh. “That’s Control,” he said. “They want us back. Look, we’ll find them.” Their footsteps began to recede. “We’ll get the Arc reinstated and everything will work out according to plan. You’ll see.”

That was the last I heard before their voices faded from earshot.

“The Argent,” I said over the drone of the water tank. “That’s where Thane’s keeping the disappeared passengers. Sorrell”—I turned to her—“has Wren ever mentioned a sibling?”

She didn’t answer. Her expression was indiscernible, her eyes calculating.

I ran a few calculations of my own. Forty-two hundred prisoners were too many to fit in that string of cells on the subfloor. There were only maybe a hundred down there, and they were all empty. Wherever Thane was keeping the disappeared passengers, it had to be somewhere much bigger.

Tye was right, though. His brother was still alive. They all were, and from what I’d just heard, most of those prisoners never committed any crime greater than failing to forget their past or being the younger sibling of someone out here. For that, they had spent the better part of the last three years incarcerated.

I looked down at where my tag would be. The prisoners, I thought. They have tags, too.

Had we gone too far, destroying the Arc? Could we have used it to find them?

Just as I thought it, a beam of blue light suddenly pinged into the closet.

“Leo.” I nudged him. “Your tag.”

Leo looked down and slapped his hand over it.

The closet was dark again for a moment, then another beam of blue light came on, this time from my wrist.

Sorrell’s lit up soon after. “Thane’s team fixed it?” She looked between the two of us frantically.

“This must be why he was called up to Control,” I realized.

“I think we need to get out of here,” Leo said, reading my mind.

“Where?” Sorrell asked. “We’re back on the grid now. There’s nowhere to go.”

The grid…

“I might know somewhere,” I tendered. “But getting there is going to be… interesting.”

I cracked the door open, ensuring Thane and his company were well out of sight before emerging from the utility closet. I signaled Leo and Sorrell to follow me to the nearest elevator, and once we were safely inside, I hit the button for the twenty-eighth floor.

“Wait!” Leo objected. “We’re going to the top floor?”

“Are you crazy?” Sorrell lambasted as the elevator lifted off. “That’s where Thane is!”

“Look,” I said, “obviously, we’ll steer clear of Control, but our tags are back on. We need to get off the grid, and there’s only one place I know of to do that. But to get there, we have to go through the Directive floors. I told you this would be interesting.”

“Try impossible,” Sorrell groused.

A few moments later, the doors opened. Music was the first thing I noticed as we stepped out into the luminescent, white halls. Beethoven. Piano Sonata No. 24—A Thérèse. The familiar notes followed the three of us all the way to the glass railing encompassing the core.

Sorrell slowed as she peered down the mouth of it, taking in the bracing view. “I’ve never seen the core from this high up before either,” she commented.

“Wait until you see what I’m about to show you. You see that gray door up there?” I pointed across the way.

“This one?” Leo crossed over to it and jiggled the handle. “It’s locked.”

“I know,” I said, freeing that straggling gold pin from my hair. I kneeled in front of the door and shimmied it into the lock, jostling it around until I heard it give.

“Is that an actual lock? For an actual a key?” Sorrell asked.

“Key or… whatever you happen to have on you,” I replied, sliding the pin back into my hair as I stood and pushed the door open. Leo and Sorrell gawked at the spiral staircase inside. “Come on,” I urged, hastening up the stairs.

The glow of our tags seemed brighter as the three of us scaled the tower, which made it even more obvious when they began to flicker halfway to the top. We froze on the steps, holding our wrists out and watching the rings of light flinch and eventually die.

“Okay…” I said. “I guess that’s a good sign. Let’s keep going.”

I climbed toward the trickling rays of sunlight above. When we arrived at the door at the top, I paused, knowing the air could still be compromised from that hole Niro had shot in the glass. And, for all I knew, the greenhouse was still bugged.

Maybe not anymore, I thought, with the Arc corrupted.

I pushed through the door, blinking in the fulgent daylight until my eyes found their focus… and I couldn’t believe what I saw.

The greenhouse was unrecognizable. There was no longer anything green about it.

There was still a faint, lingering scent of the purple flowers, but that was all that remained of them now. The once lush maze was now a graveyard of bare, iron frames with only a few sad, yellow vines still clinging to them for life.

“What… happened here?” I stammered, taken aback by the transformation of this place. I reached out and grazed a sere vine, its browning leaves breaking off and crumbling at my fingertips.

“What do you mean?” Leo asked.

“The flowers…” I trailed, ambling out into the rows of iron husks. “There used to be thousands of them everywhere. Now they’re gone…” My voice ebbed as I caught another faint whiff of their fragrance, and suddenly it came crashing over me like a tidal wave. It was their scent I recognized in that chemical cloud outside of the bunker.

“The Nightmare…” I realized, “it came from the flowers.”

Neither Leo nor Sorrell seemed alarmed. Why would they be? They hadn’t spent hours up here, surrounded by those flowers, oblivious to the bane coursing through each petal.

Leo wasn’t even looking at the desiccated maze. He was looking at the sky.

“I wasn’t sure I’d ever see it again…” he mused.

I glanced up at the firmament, gray and somber, just like it had been on the morning of the Exitus. “You should see it when the stars are out,” I commented.

Leo dropped his gaze to me. “How did you find this place?”

“Cace showed it to me,” I confessed.

Leo’s expression shifted as he panned the gaunt remains of the garden, seeing now that it was littered with memories of him. I frowned, recalling what Leo said to me in the bunker when he was still under the Nightmare’s spell.

I turned to Sorrell, her gaze distrait as she surveyed the pale rays of light piercing through the gloom. I knew that look. It was that of one haunted by a memory… or a Nightmare.

“Sorrell… who is Jake?” I finally asked.

Her green eyes snapped to me, but just as quickly, they resigned to the ground. “He was…”

She didn’t get further than that, but she didn’t need to. With those two words, I understood the provenance of her grief.

“He was having dinner with me and my parents,” she said, eyes glistening with an aching nostalgia, “when the blackvests came for me. I remember he ran after me, screaming my name. I screamed his, too.”

“Jake!” I recalled her cries from the bunker. “Let go of me! Jake, wait! Jake!” I saw the scene accompanying those cries much more clearly now.

“Did you know?” I asked. “That they would come for you?”

Sorrell stole away from the memory momentarily, shaking her head. “I don’t remember. I begged them to let me say goodbye, but they didn’t care.” An angry tear rolled down her cheek. “They shoved me into that helicopter and brought me here. Then they stuck me with a needle.”

This is the Aureate, I thought jadedly. We all forgot a lifetime of people who meant everything to us once, and we woke up not knowing the difference. All it took was the prick of a needle.

“I never really forgot him, though,” she went on. “That was the worst part—waking up in that chair, knowing something was missing and I couldn’t remember what, or who… until the Nightmare. And every time I woke up in Med, I remembered how long it’s been, how I left him to—” She bit her lip, tears flooding her eyes. “I just wanted to stay with him there, in the dream.”

Dream. Of course. After the Nightmare had vacated her system, she was left with only dreams of him. No wonder she didn’t want to wake up.

“I never asked to be here,” she uttered.

I looked at her, understanding now, at least in part, why she and so many other residents resented the crew so deeply. The crew, the Command, the Directive—they all chose this. They chose to save themselves and leave everyone else behind.

It was different for the three of us. We were residents. We were never given a choice.

“My name was Elyse,” Sorrell said, wiping her eyes. “That was the name he called out… when they took me.”

She looked like she might burst into tears again. I looked to Leo, hoping he’d have something apt to interject with.

“What about Wren?” he propounded. “You met her here, right?”

Sorrell nodded. “When she was still a resident. Believe it or not, she was… fun then.” A fond smile fanned across her cheeks. “But… things changed when her little sister disappeared.”

“Sister?” I echoed. “So, what Thane said back there… it’s true?”

“Yes,” Sorrell said. “Her sister went missing with the others. I didn’t think any of them were still alive, but Wren never gave up hope. She went crazy looking for her.”

“So Tye was right,” I said quietly. She and Leo blinked at me. “Right. You were both… passed out. Tye told us in the airlock bunker that his brother who disappeared is alive, too. Or, so Thane claims.”

Sorrell shook her head. “Wren looked everywhere, but she never found them. Then she joined the Directive, and it was like she disappeared, too. I saw her in the Mess sometimes, but she was always dodging me…”

I recalled the day I bumped into Wren outside of the Mess, the way she bolted when she saw Sorrell coming. “She’s not dodging you anymore,” I mentioned. “What changed?”

Sorrell frowned. “I always thought Wren chose to leave me for the Directive,” she said. “But the day I went to Thane after I saw you and Cace, I finally learned the truth. I tried to tell Thane I’d only keep his secret if he let me see her. That was when he told me that Wren’s sister is alive… that if I didn’t want to be the reason anything happened to her, I had to stay away from Wren and stay quiet about you two. Then he planted that bug-thing on me.”

“Thane has a propensity for exploiting people’s weaknesses to bend them to his will,” I remembered Wren’s presaging words and realized… Sorrell didn’t keep the secret for our sake, or Thane’s, or even her own. She did it for Wren.

“Wren was the one I found you talking to that night in the hall, right?” I asked.

Sorrell nodded. “After I went to Thane, she came to warn me off. I spent so long resenting her for shutting me out. But after that night, I finally understood; Wren never wanted to leave. Thane extorted her, just like he did with me.”

“I’m sorry, So. I should’ve told you why I left,” Wren’s pleading words from the bunker came back to me.

I thought of all the times I’d watched Sorrell’s flirty displays with other residents in the Mess, and suddenly I realized… she knew Wren was watching. Maybe she did it to spite her, or to see if she’d be jealous. Maybe she just didn’t want Wren to know how much she had hurt her. Now she knew the truth. It was never Wren’s choice to leave.

“That night in my room,” I ventured to guess, “Wren said you didn’t understand why she couldn’t help us, and then you said something to her. It was about her sister, wasn’t it?”

“Yes,” Sorrell answered. “I told her that I know she’s alive.” She shut her eyes and sighed. “I never should’ve dragged Wren into this. I knew that once we told her everything, she’d agree to help. Crashing the Arc was her only chance to find her sister, to free her. But… that was only part of it. The truth is, I wanted Wren to be free, too. To be with me. And now… if something happens to her sister because of this…”

“It won’t,” I assured her. “No matter how this ends for us, Thane won’t hurt her sister. He was bluffing.”

“Do you think he was bluffing when he said he’ll lock Wren up too?” Sorrell’s eyes leveled with mine. “In that… place?”

“The Argent?” I blurted. Sorrell flinched. “We won’t let that happen,” I attempted to console her, but it didn’t seem to help.

“This is all my fault,” she whispered. “I got her into this. She’s going to disappear again, and this time, I won’t even know where.”

“Sorrell…” I tried to assuage her, but before I could utter another word, she leapt to her feet and bolted for the door.

“Wait!” Leo called as she ripped it open and disappeared down the stairs.

“It’s okay, Leo,” I placed a hand on his outstretched arm. “It’s not her they’re after.”

“They could catch her and make her lead them to us,” Leo pointed out.

“Thane probably already knows we’re here,” I admitted, scanning again for hidden bugs. “He’s just waiting for the right time.”

Leo turned to me. “What do you mean?”

“You know those syringes by our beds?”

He nodded.

“I think Thane wanted to keep us under while everyone else woke up.”

“Why?” he asked.

“To allow enough time,” I answered, “for their fear and contempt to escalate into… that.” I motioned to the clamoring mob below. “And now he’s planning to feed us to the wolves.”

I looked around at the state of the greenhouse. Or rather, the vault Thane had built to safeguard his most precious secrets—Cace, the piano, and the poison he’d been growing all along.

“Something Sorrell said just now didn’t make sense,” Leo said, snapping me out of the contemplation. “She mentioned she and her family were having dinner when the commanders showed up to take her. But the quakes hit Eiena early in the morning. Even if she was in one of the last sectors hit, they wouldn’t just be… having a casual family dinner, right?”

They weren’t, I thought. Not on that day. But I didn’t have it in me to explain to him that Sorrell was brought aboard weeks before the quakes hit, that he and I were the only ones still on the ground that day.

“Maybe she’s remembering wrong,” I said with a shrug.

Leo looked unconvinced, but he didn’t pry any further. Instead, he gazed at the stripped aisles before us and asked, “So this place was used to grow flowers?”

“Just one,” I corrected. “Just a whole lot of one flower… until Thane had it harvested to make the Nightmare.” I blinked, swatting away a black-gold fleck hovering in my periphery.

It came back seconds later with a friend.

What are these? I squinted at the bug on my sleeve, flicking its diaphanous wings.

A lightwing, I realized in disbelief. Much like the stars, its radiance had been extinguished by the daylight, and now it just looked like a verminous insect.

Where are the rest of you? I wondered as it flew away.

I peered around the rows of skeletal frames, searching for the hole Niro had shot in the glass, suspecting the others must’ve escaped through it. Instead, I found a whole swarm of them gathered like a dark, teeming cloud just below the hole.

“Leo… look,” I said, pointing to a recumbent figure sprawled under the horde of hovering parasites.

We edged toward the body, and with every step, an uneasy feeling sank deeper in my gut, until finally I could see his face.

Niro.

The barrel-chested blackvest was splayed on the ground, his eyes open and bloodshot, his face an unnatural skewbald of blue and purple. However he’d died… evidently it wasn’t peaceful.

Leo gaped at Niro’s corpse in horror. “What… happened?”

“I might know,” I said, venturing a step closer and zeroing in on the cracked, orange mask around Niro’s neck. “On the day of the wedding, when I ran,” I broached the subject reticently, “Niro chased me up here. He shot this hole in the glass to deplete the air supply so I’d have to go back with him.” I pointed to it, observing that the hole was sealed now. I looked at Niro again. “I think somehow he got trapped up here with a busted mask before the leak was patched.”

I cringed at the carcass being marauded by vulturous pests.

I looked away, unable to stomach the sight anymore. I turned to Leo. “Are you okay?”

“It’s just”—Leo gulped, unable to tear his eyes away—“no one was supposed to die here.”

“In the greenhouse?” I asked.

Leo turned to me. “On the Aureate.”

“Come on,” I said. “Let’s go somewhere else.”

Leo didn’t argue. He followed me through the maze, which didn’t seem so unnavigable now that I could see through it all. Strains of sunlight leaked through the clouds, piercing the grate overhead as we passed under the tunnel once dripping with flowers, until at last we came upon the white piano with pale petals scattered across its lid.

“Is that what I think it is?” Leo laughed in disbelief as we approached the instrument.

I reached intrinsically toward the keys, rapping out a quick melody.

“Ave Maria?” Leo guessed.

I lifted my fingers and blinked at him in surprise.

“You said it’s your favorite.”

“Right.” I glanced down, finding a wilted flower resting on top of the piano. I picked it up, its purple-brown edges curling around my fingertips.

“So we could just stay up here forever?” I recalled asking Cace the other night, as he tucked a more vibrant version of the flower behind my ear.

“For now,” he said, his fingertips brushing my cheek.

I sighed, compressing the frail little flower in my fist.

Nothing lasts forever. That is the nature of for now. It has to end somewhere.

Now Cace was gone, and this place no longer resembled our sanctuary under the stars. Here, in the insipid light of day, I finally saw this place for what it was—just another cage, its glass walls as impenetrable as any other on the ship.

I opened my fist, the saccharine aroma of the crushed petals suddenly flooding my senses. I reeled back, clutching the piano as my surroundings shifted before my eyes and I once again found myself staring down that empty, moonlit alley.

The cold desert wind howled through the dark void between those familiar brick walls.

A pair of arms reached out and snatched me from behind, dragging me away.

“No!” I heard my own familiar shriek echo. “Wait! I can’t leave him! Please! I promised I wouldn’t leave him!”

And then whoosh! The Man in Shadows appeared once more, his towering, tenebrous figure untouched by the light of the streetlamp behind him.

“Where is he?” I demanded. “I know you took him.”

“Aiza…” a familiar voice severed through the mackled vision, dissolving the elements around me. “Aiza?”

My eyes shot open. I found Leo’s amber eyes hovering over me, radiating concern. I realized I’d fallen into his arms.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“I’m fine.” I stood up straight, holding my head until the dizziness abated. “Sorry. I… don’t know what that was.”

“I think it was a relapse,” Leo said, his gaze sliding to the purple flower still clutched in my hand. “Here.” He put an arm around me, guiding me toward the seat tucked under the piano. He pulled it out, and together we sat on the white bench that, until now, I’d only ever shared with Cace. “Better?” he asked.

I began to nod, but my hair snagged on something. “Ow!”

“What’s wrong?” Leo tried to pull away, but it only made it worse.

“My hairpin,” I grunted, attempting to free it. “I think it’s caught on your jacket.”

“Oh, here,” Leo offered, disentangling it with relative ease. He handed it back to me and smiled. “Better hang onto that. It comes in handy.”

“Thanks.” I took it from him, but instead of putting it back in my hair, I set it on the bench between us and let my hair fall over my face like a partition.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Leo asked.

I nodded, tucking my hair behind my ear while my other hand still clasped the virulent little flower. “I’m having some trouble, I guess,” I admitted, “dissevering reality from… the Nightmares.”

“Me too,” Leo empathized. “Can I ask what you saw? You said you couldn’t leave someone? Then you said that someone… took him?”

I blinked, mortified to discover that wasn’t just in my head.

“You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to,” Leo said swiftly.

“I do want to,” I blurted. “I’m just not sure how to explain it. I was… running toward this alley in the middle of the night. Someone was supposed to be there—a boy. He begged me not to leave him, but I had to go get help.” I strained to recall what had happened to the boy, but I couldn’t. “When I came back, he was gone. There was this man—the Man in Shadows. I think he took him. I’d seen that man before, Leo.” I couldn’t hide the tremble in my voice as I spoke of the mysterious figure. “I’d been seeing him all my life. I don’t know who he was, or why he was after us that night… but I remember how I felt when I came back and saw that he’d taken the boy.” My heart raced just thinking of it. “But that was a long time ago,” I reminded myself, closing my eyes.

“Still,” Leo replied, after a beat, “when it comes back to you like that—so suddenly, so clearly—somehow it doesn’t matter how much time has passed. It’s like it’s… happening all over again, like there’s nothing more real.”

I looked at him, only now registering that what I saw in my Nightmare—haunting as it was—was probably trivial compared to whatever he’d seen.

“My name was Isaac,” Leo said.

I blinked. “Really?”

He nodded. “Isaac Rothe.”

“Huh.” I tried to picture him with the name. “He sounds important.”

“He was just a kid who immigrated to Eiena with his parents when he was eight,” Leo said. “They got jobs in a factory. So did I when I turned fourteen. We lived in a tiny one-bedroom apartment in the Harena.”

My eyes flew to his. “Y-you lived in the Harena?”

“Yeah, right across from the train tracks. It was… noisy.” He turned to me and half-smiled, seeing my obvious bewilderment. “I guess you didn’t see that one coming—the kid Thane chose to be Primary came from the Harena.”

“No, it’s not that,” I said, although it was true—I had always assumed Leo came from nobility. “It’s just… I lived in the Harena, too.”

Leo stared at me, brows slightly raised.

“I was in the system,” I explained, “so I moved around a lot. But it was always the Harena. Honestly, I never really forgot that place.”

“Me neither,” Leo confessed.

“What did you see?” I asked him. “When the Nightmare… you know?”

Leo lifted his gaze, but instead of meeting mine, it seemed to land somewhere very far away. “I saw the explosion,” he uttered tremulously.

“Explosion?”

“At the factory where my parents and I worked,” he specified. “It was the morning the Exitus hit. School was called off that day because of the tremors, so I went to work with them. No one was really worried yet—we were so used to tremors. But then the quakes hit, and the factory sprang a gas leak. I remember the workers from the back all stampeding to the front of the building, screaming at us to run. So, I did. I just… dropped everything and followed them to the door. I was already outside when the alarms began to sound, but I just kept running. I was almost to the next block by the time the explosion happened, but the blast still knocked me down. When I stood back up, I turned and saw the building up in flames… and I knew my parents were still in there. The ground kept shaking. I remember hearing screams and sirens and thinking I should run, but I just stayed there… watching it burn… until a man in a black helmet came up and asked what my name was. I barely heard him over the ringing in my ears, but I remember telling him it was Isaac Rothe. The next thing I knew, he was rushing me to a helicopter waiting at the end of the street. You know the rest.”

Leo looked like he was miles away by the time he finished, as if relaying the events of that day had somehow pulled him back to it.

I wondered, fleetingly, if the commander who had escorted him to the helicopter was Tye’s brother. But more than that, I was still coming to grips with the fact that while I was being dragged away from my home and forced into a helicopter on that chaotic morning, somewhere not far from me, the same was happening to Leo.

“Before the Nightmare,” Leo said, “I would’ve given anything to remember just a piece of my life before this place. But now…” He dropped his head, his hands gripping the bench. “Maybe forgetting was easier.”

I gave a slow nod. Part of me still wanted to know who the boy in the alley was, but the other part knew it might hurt too much, knowing he was gone now.

“You must’ve been really afraid that night,” Leo commented, breaking up the heavy silence. “When you saw him… your Man in Shadows.”

“I was…” I let the word drag.

“I just mean,” Leo expounded, “in my Nightmare, I remembered what happened on the day of the Exitus. It was the most afraid I’d ever been. I think the Nightmare made most people remember the Exitus. But you… you remembered that. Whoever was taken from you that night… I think you were more afraid to lose him than you were of the Exitus.”

I stared at Leo speechlessly, floored by his perceptiveness.

He was right. I was terrified the morning the Exitus hit. But I had always remembered that fear. Whoever the boy in the alley was… losing him scared me more than watching my world meet its end.

Amon was right, too.

There are worse things to remember than the Exitus.

Far worse things.

Silence loomed as I allowed the revelation of Leo’s last comment to sink in. I tossed aside the bald bud in my hand and looked over, watching him wrestle still with the memory his Nightmares had exhumed. And suddenly, I recalled what Tye said in the bunker about Leo only pretending to forget the Exitus, like we both did.

“Leo, did you remember the Exitus?” I asked point-blank. “I mean… before the Nightmare?”

Leo’s eyes flashed at me, dialed wide with guilt.

“You lied when you said you didn’t remember it, right?” I guessed.

He vacillated, then finally sighed. “Yes. I’m sorry. It’s just… we weren’t allowed to talk about what we remembered. Especially the Exitus.”

“You were afraid that if Thane found out, he’d throw you back in that cell,” I inferred, still seeing flashes of those purple-scribbled walls from my dream, recalling the torment of not knowing if I’d ever see the outside of them again. For Leo, it wasn’t just a dream, and the longer I contemplated that isolation, the more I understood why he would’ve done anything to avoid returning to it.

“I couldn’t go back there,” Leo echoed my thoughts. “I lied about not remembering it. I remember it all—every new version of the serum they tried on me, and the side effects. Fevers, rashes, even seizures…”

As he listed them off, I was suddenly reminded of something Thane said when he threatened to rescrub me. “We’ve since made significant improvements to the rescrubbing formula… although it took some trial rounds.”

I was too panicked at the prospect of having my memories wiped again at the time, but now I realized… they were using Leo to run those trials.

My stomach turned.

“After each time, they’d send someone in to ask me these… questions,” he said with a curious connotation. “It was like they were quizzing me on a life I couldn’t remember. I racked my brain trying to come up with the answers. It took me such a long time to finally understand… they weren’t trying to get me to remember something I couldn’t. They were making sure that something had been erased.”

“The Exitus?” I presumed.

“I thought so…” Leo trailed. “So I pretended to forget it. I figured if I could learn to sleep without tossing and turning—if I could quiet the nightmares—then maybe they’d let me out. But it didn’t happen that way. They stopped scrubbing me, and then they just… left me in that cell for another nine months. When the door finally reopened, I thought it was all going to start again. But instead… they cleaned me up and put me in that mask, and the next thing I knew, I was waiting on those steps to meet you. By then, I’d convinced myself never to speak of that day to anyone.” He turned to me, his tone no longer distant, but direct. “I never wanted to lie to you, Aiza. I was just so afraid of saying something that might land me back in that cell.”

“It’s okay, Leo.” I touched his shoulder. “The truth is… I never forgot that day either. I don’t think anyone who was there forgot it.”

Leo shot me an inquiring look. “What do you mean ‘anyone who was there’?”

I drew a strained breath. “Leo, the morning the quakes hit Eiena… you and I were the only ones from the Aureate’s manifest still on the ground. Well—us and the extraction teams Thane sent down for us. Tye was on mine. He remembers that day, too. He’s the one who told me that they began boarding the Aureate weeks before you and I ever stepped foot on it. That’s why Sorrell was having dinner with her family when they came for her. By the time the quakes hit, she was already here. Everyone was, except us. No one knew what was happening on the ground, not until the Directive—” I stopped short, struck by another epiphany. “The Directive,” I voiced. “They were here, too. No wonder they weren’t scrubbed! They never even saw it! No one here saw the Exitus firsthand like you and I did. For them, the Nightmare brought back… things they saw on the news while it happened to the rest of the world.” I leaned forward, setting my elbows on my knees and folding my hands together. “I don’t think anything they did to us was ever going to erase that day,” I said.

“They gave it their best shot with me. Or… shots,” Leo grumbled, gesturing to his marked arm. “The thing is, Aiza… I’m not sure it was the Exitus Thane wanted scrubbed from my memory. I think there was something else.”

I sat up. “Like what?”

“That’s just it.” Leo breathed deeply. “I don’t know. Thane went to great lengths to make sure I forgot something, and I think eventually it worked. They only stopped scrubbing me after…”

“After what?” I urged.

“After they sent her in to talk to me,” Leo said. “She was a doctor, I think. She asked me more questions, strange questions… but nothing about the Exitus. Nothing about my last day on the ground. And at the end of the session… she reached into her pocket”—he furrowed his brow, concentrating on the memory—“and she pulled out this… little bird folded from white paper.” He turned up his palm, as though he could see it there now. “She didn’t say anything for a minute. She just held it out and watched my reaction. Then, finally, she asked if it made me feel anything, or think of anyone.”

“And did it?” I asked, not mentioning the suspiciously similar paper bird I had seen in a vision just before the Nightmare pulled me under the last time.

Leo shook his head. “I don’t think so. But maybe it would have, once.”

“So, you think that whatever Thane really wanted erased from your memory had to do with that paper bird?”

“I’m guessing so, but since I can’t remember…” Leo shrugged, flustered.

I wondered what, pertaining to a paper bird, could’ve possibly been so important for Leo to forget before Thane would let him out of that cell.

Then I remembered… Leo wasn’t the only one Thane put in a cell.

“Leo,” I began forming my theory aloud, “what if the Exitus wasn’t what Thane really wanted scrubbed from any of our memories? Think about it—he would never have released the Nightmare if it was. What if there was something else about the world we left behind that Thane wanted to ensure none of us ever remembered, and that’s why he was willing to lock up anyone who spoke of their memories?”

“There are worse things to remember about the world we once lived in than its end,” Amon’s warning just before he stuck that needle into Leo’s arm came back to me. What if he was right? Amon may have created the scrub, but he never used it on himself. What if he knew something we didn’t?

“There are twenty thousand people on this ship,” I rationalized, “and most of us can’t remember anything before the day we woke up here. Anyone who remembered and talked about their past was locked up. Thane put them away to silence them, along with all younger siblings to eliminate any risk of the scrub being compromised for the rest of us. Thane went to great lengths to make sure we all forgot something… and it’s not the Exitus. The Argent.” I looked hopefully to Leo. “Someone there has to remember.”

“Aiza,” he already guessed my next question, “I wish I could help… but I wasn’t kept in the Argent, or anywhere near it. Trust me,” he said, “no one else was kept where I was.”

Pity shaped my gaze as I recalled the quiet horror with which Leo beheld those cell doors on the subfloor.

Then I remembered the other discovery we’d made down there.

“That computer we found downstairs…” I said, “the passcode was my birth name and my Arc ID number. Wren said that passcode hadn’t been updated in nearly fifteen years… which means that fifteen years ago, before there even was an incident with the Salvus Team to cover up… I had a place here. If we’ve been a part of Thane’s plan from the beginning, why were we the last ones he brought onto the ship? Why did he wait until the last minute to save us if we were always so important?” I turned to find Leo giving me a strange look. “What?”

“I think you were part of his plan from the beginning,” he said. “But you saw my file. It wasn’t even me. The last time that system was updated, I wasn’t in it. The other kid whose picture we found—he was supposed to be here. He was supposed to be Primary. Not me.”

“Leo, Thane wouldn’t have sent an army of commanders down in the middle of those quakes for you if you weren’t important,” I argued.

Leo grimaced. “Thane didn’t send an army for me. He sent two people. I don’t think I was ever as important to him as you were. I think something happened to that other kid—something that wasn’t part of the plan—and they just figured since they were sending a team down for you, they might as well find a kid to replace him—one nearby… in the Harena.”

Now I didn’t know what to say, because that made more sense than I cared to admit.

Tye did say that Leo was brought here to replace that boy, but he failed to mention that his brother was one in a team of only two sent for him.

“I think you were important,” Leo drove his point home. “I was… an afterthought.”

“She’s the very last one,” I remembered that commander saying when they brought me in.

“What about the other one?” the woman in the white coat asked. “The boy?”

Maybe Leo was right.

“You really don’t know where Thane was keeping you all that time?” I asked him.

Leo gave a slow shrug. “Somewhere even further off the grid than this place.”

I squinted at the rows of iron jutting up into the bleary sky. “This place isn’t on the grid…” I said faintly, remembering what Cace had told me when he first brought me here. Of course. “This isn’t a blackout zone.” I turned to Leo. “It isn’t on the grid because Thane built it before the grid existed! That door opens with a key because it was installed before the Arc was created… which means that back when the Aureate was just framework, Thane was growing those flowers here. Leo, the Nightmare was his plan all along. We may have expedited it with what we did at that assembly… but Thane knew even before he let the first passenger step foot on this ship that we may not be leaving it for a long time. And he was prepared to make sure we never wanted to.”

I shot to my feet, overcome by a sudden, manic longing to be free of this place. “What if Thane does want to keep us trapped here?” I uttered under my breath, setting a hand on the glass. “We have to get out.”

“Where would we go?” Leo posed.

“Do you remember what you said to me that day outside the Mess?” I promptly resumed my seat beside him. “You said, ‘Even if it kills us… we have to try out there someday.’ What if it comes to that? We can’t die here, Leo. I promised everyone we’d go back.”

“We will,” Leo said. “Someday. But we only get one shot. We have to make it count. We have to know what we’re facing out there if we want to stand a chance.”

I nodded, doing my best to hear reason amidst the panic that possessed me.

“Besides,” Leo added, “we can’t ground with the Directive still in power. And like you said, nothing here is going to change until you change it.”

“Me?” I echoed. “I think I said ‘we.’”

“These people listen to you, Aiza,” Leo said tenaciously. “They have since the first speech you gave. You didn’t need those cards. You knew what to say. You always know. You can do this. You can lead these people.”

“I’m not the one they want leading them,” I reminded him. “I’m not a real Primary.”

“Yes you are,” Leo asserted. “Look at everything you’ve done with the power they only pretended to give you. You can’t give up now.”

“But you heard them down there,” I argued. “All they want is for things to go back to the way they were, before me.”

“That’s because they don’t know the truth,” Leo said. “You’re the only one who can give it to them. You were the only one of us brave enough to stand up to Thane. Now you just have to finish what you started. It’s not over yet.”

I was speechless, overwhelmed by his intrepid faith in me.

“I meant what I said, Aiza.” Leo smiled. “I’m with you, no matter what. Just don’t let Thane win.” He touched my arm. Then he looked down at his hand, and his smile withered. “I meant what I said in the bunker, too.”

My lips parted, but no words came.

“I should’ve told you sooner,” Leo spoke instead, his hand and gaze both retreating. “This was never just playing a part for me. I know I was delirious when I said it, but it’s true. I…” He lifted his amber eyes to me, allowing the words to fall boldly from his lips, “I love you, Aiza. A-and I know that sounds crazy,” he added feverishly. “I’ve told myself over and over how crazy it is for me to feel this way when I only met you a week ago. But the thing is… I feel like I’ve known you so much longer, and it’s not just because you’re the first person I met when I got out. You said you thought I looked familiar when I took off the mask? I didn’t say it then, but I had the same thought about you. Ever since that night, from the moment I saw your face, I’ve had this feeling that somehow… I know you.”

Now I was truly lost for words. I didn’t get the chance to find them. Across the terrace, the door suddenly screeched open, and we both leapt to our feet.

My heart drummed as two figures in black came storming toward us through the grated tunnel.

A third commander straggled behind them, dragging Sorrell with him.

Leo was right. They made her lead them to us.

“Four-seven-two-nine-eight-six,” one of the commanders roared, grabbing me by the wrist.

“Aiza!” Sorrell cried as he yanked me up from the bench.

“It’s okay, Sorrell.”

“No, you don’t understand!” Sorrell wrenched away from the blackvest holding her, panic abounding in her wide, green eyes as she exclaimed, “Thane is fixing it! The tags… they’re all coming back on!”

I looked at my wrist in the commander’s grip. Sure enough, there was that irksome, blue glow.

“Let’s go,” the blackvest urged, pulling at me.

His friend forced Leo to his feet and soon the three of us were hauled back across the greenhouse, past Niro’s body—which none of the commanders noticed—and down that spiral staircase. As they marched us around the core… I began to hear the distant rumble of a rampage below.

The Main Deck.

They weren’t pleading in fear anymore. They sounded angry… violent.

I went to peer down the core to glimpse the riot, but the commander shoved me to the ground instead.

“Aiza!” Leo cried as he was thrown to the ground next to me.

Sorrell wasted no time. She booted her commander in the shin and fled.

As we heard her boots charging down the hall, Leo locked eyes with me. Don’t give up, he reminded me silently, his cheek pressed to the floor. Finish what you started.

I drove my elbow into the commander holding me down. He yelped and I rolled out from under him, then hurled myself at the one restraining Leo. I pinned my knee to his chest and pressed his arms to the floor, but my palms were sweating from the effort, and in a blink, he was on his feet again, his boot finding its way into my gut.

“Ah,” I wailed, crumpling to the floor.

The commander came at me again and I scrambled back. And just when he had me cornered, my back against the wall, Leo’s fist shot out and decked him in the nose.

The blackvest howled, throwing his head back as blood ran from it.

I gaped at Leo. He stared at his own curled knuckles, as if he couldn’t believe the damage had come from them. He offered his hand to me, but before I could take it, the other commander swung at him. Leo ducked the first punch, then snapped his hand up to break the momentum of the next and jabbed the blackvest square in the throat.

Leo blinked, shaking out his hand, again surprised by his own skill. But he was from the Harena, and some things you don’t forget.

As the commander choked and gasped for air, his friend straightened up, wiping his bloody nose on his sleeve. He lunged at Leo, closing his giant hand around Leo’s neck. Sorrell cried out down the hall, grappling with the third commander who had apparently caught up to her now. The blackvest with the bruised throat recovered and took a swipe at me. I clambered away, but he caught my jacket and bolstered me against the wall.

That was when two more commanders came barreling onto the scene. Great.

To my surprise, however, one of them collared the blackvest choking me and tackled him to the ground. As she held him down, I saw the wings of the black bird peering out of her tank top, and I grinned. “Kyla!”

The commander accompanying her snatched the blackvest strangling Leo and took him to the ground, digging his thumb into the goon’s artery and rendering him unconscious.

“Tye!” I exclaimed. “What are you both doing here?”

Before Kyla could answer, the blackvest cropped her left cheek with his fist. In response, Kyla unsheathed the gun from the commander’s holster and raked the butt of it across his temple, knocking him out cold.

“Aiza, behind you!” Tye yelled, as suddenly the commander towing Sorrell approached, hooking his free arm around my throat and locking me in a chokehold.

I grasped at his arm, but he was too strong, so I slashed my elbow into his stomach, forcing him to release Sorrell and I both.

As the blackvest doubled over, a blur in orange swooped in and swiped the gun from his holster, stunning him before he’d even looked up, and he face-planted on the floor.

“Wren!” Sorrell cried happily.

“Looks like I still remember some of my training.” Wren tossed the gun aside and turned to Sorrell. “You okay?”

Sorrell nodded, falling into her embrace.

“Thanks for the assist,” I huffed, taking in the three blackvests laid out around us.

“We should get out of here,” Kyla said. “Thane may not have a lot of commanders at his disposal right now, but I doubt we’ve seen the last of them.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“The riot,” Tye answered. “Most of Command is down there rioting with the crew and the—Kyla!”

We all looked over to find her sliding the gun she’d apparently pilfered from the knocked-out commander into her belt. “What?” she shrugged. “I still haven’t gotten my sidearms back since you fired me.”

“You never carried a gun,” Tye reminded her. “Actually, under normal circumstances… no commander does.” He looked at the three thugs sprawled at our feet. I followed his gaze, observing that the other two each had a gun on their person as well… and not one, but two stun guns apiece. Tye frowned. “Thane’s getting serious about hunting us down.”

“Well then,” Kyla patted her hip, “I should probably hang on to this.”

As I watched her sling her hand over the weapon, I couldn’t help but note the absence of a certain blue ring on her wrist.

I looked at Tye, his sleeve still pushed up from the brawl. His tag was dark too.

“Your tags are dead,” I commented.

“Thanks to Wren, here,” Kyla nodded at her. “She’s the reason we found you, too.”

“When the tags started coming back on,” Wren explained, “I hacked the Arc so we could try to locate yours… and make sure we didn’t cross paths with any blackvests on the way.”

“Did you turn our tags back on?” Leo asked.

“No,” Wren replied. “But I figured Thane would, and I was right. We tracked you to this floor, but then, right as we were getting close, the blackvests’ tags went dark.”

I glanced down at the three comatose commanders on the floor, nudging one of their arms with my foot.

It was true. His tag was off.

“Thane turned them off,” I surmised.

Wren nodded. “I think he realized two could play this game.”

“Speaking of tags,” Sorrell said, holding her wrist out to Wren.

“Yeah, let’s take care of that.” Wren reached into her pocket and brandished the scanner I’d entrusted to her a few nights ago, working quickly to deactivate Sorrell’s tag.

“I don’t know what we would’ve done without our tech genius,” Tye commended Wren. “She’s kept us off Thane’s radar for days now. She even found a way to jam the bunker doors so no one could get in.”

“You were in that bunker for days?” Leo asked, as Wren took the scanner to his wrist next. “What about food and water?”

“We found an emergency stash of both, but there wasn’t much,” Tye said. “That’s what finally forced us out yesterday. By the way, the Mess? It’s pretty much a free-for-all right now.”

“Too bad we can’t get to it now,” Kyla muttered. “Thane sealed off the Directive floors as soon as he made the announcement. Thankfully we were already up here, so⁠—”

“What announcement?” I cut in. “What did he say to them?”

“What do you think?” Kyla retorted. “He told them the Arc is being reinstated.”

“‘Per the new Primaries’ decree,’” Tye added.

“Is that true?” I asked Wren as she came to deactivate my tag last. “Is it even possible?”

Wren was quiet as she watched my tag go dark. She pulled our last locations and scrambled them, then finally she answered, “It wouldn’t be if I hadn’t been caught. The Arc was just backed up in so many places, I didn’t have time to wipe them all. So yes, potentially, the Arc could make a full recovery.”

“We have to find another way to stop him,” I said. “If we don’t, he’s going to lock you all up in the Argent, while Leo and I⁠—”

“Wait,” Kyla stopped me. “In the what?”

“Aiza”—Wren gripped my arm—“where did you hear that name?”

“From Thane,” I said, sensing this wasn’t the first she’d heard it. “We overheard him saying that the Argent is where he’s keeping all the disappeared passengers. Tye.” I turned to him. “You were right. Thane didn’t kill them. Your brother is still alive somewhere on this ship… and so is your sister, Wren.” My gaze swept back to her.

Tye shot Wren a bewildered look. “What is she talking about?”

Wren sighed. “Her name is Riley,” she explained, pushing up her glasses. “She disappeared with the others. She was the youngest resident here, but she scored so high on the intelligence assessment, they made an exception for her. I’m good with tech, but Riley—she was the real genius. She was only ten when they brought us here and wiped our memories. It was just… too much for her. She’d be almost fourteen now.”

“Wren…” I searched for a way to break this to her, “your sister wasn’t locked up because she defected. Thane interned all younger siblings when he realized the scrub was susceptible. He worried siblings would trigger each other’s memories.”

“I know,” Wren’s response surprised me. “I figured that out… eventually.”

“Wait,” Tye spoke up, “you’re saying Lucas is only trapped in that place because I’m out here?”

“I’m sorry, Tye,” I said. “There’s something about the world we left behind that Thane really doesn’t want us to remember. That’s why he rescrubbed anyone he suspected of remembering. And when that didn’t work, he locked them away. Wren”—I pivoted to her—“in all the time you spent up there, did you hear or see anything that might lead us to the Argent?”

She shook her head. “After Riley disappeared and I started hearing the rumors about executions, I hacked into databases, broke into places no resident was ever supposed to go… I went crazy searching for any sign she was still alive. I got desperate… and sloppy. That’s how I got caught. That’s when Thane invited me to… join the Directive or else. He told me Riley’s alive, that if I ever wanted to see her again, I had to cooperate. I knew I couldn’t risk it, so when he pulled me from the Residency, I stopped searching. I might as well have disappeared, too, after that.”

She looked at Sorrell, an apology written in her gaze.

“Then, one night,” she continued, glancing archly at Kyla, “this random commander showed up and asked me to follow her down to the Residency floors. That’s when I finally understood just how long I’d be playing this game with Thane before I ever got to see my sister again. Like Tye said in the bunker—he was never going to kill her, but he’s never going to let her go either—not while siblings threaten the scrub. Nothing I did was going to change that, one way or the other. I thought crashing the Arc would be my chance to find Riley, to free her.”

As Wren cast her eyes down, I suddenly understood why she’d stayed hidden on the subfloor while the commanders took Cace and Sorrell. It wasn’t self-preservation. She was only helping us destroy the Arc to free her sister. She stayed hidden to finish the job, even though it meant abandoning Sorrell.

“It doesn’t make it any easier,” Wren murmured, “knowing she’s been trapped all this time and it’s my fault.”

“Wren,” Sorrell placed a hand on her shoulder, “it’s not your⁠—”

“I’m the reason she’s on this ship!” Wren lashed out. “If I hadn’t convinced Thane to let her on, she wouldn’t be⁠—”

“Wait,” I interjected, “what do you mean you convinced Thane to let her on?”

Wren let out a labored sigh. “The Directive wasn’t sure they wanted Riley. She was too young. But Thane and I… we came to an agreement a few months before the ship left the ground. I shouldn’t remember it, but clearly the scrub isn’t infallible. Thane found me and told me about the Aureate, but he said it wouldn’t be done in time to save us unless the Directive could get their hands on more money—and fast. I’d hacked plenty of cyber security systems before, but wiring money out of bank accounts was new territory for me. Thane seemed desperate, though, so I agreed to help… if he promised to take Riley, too.”

“You were the resident who helped him tap those accounts…” I uttered, recalling what Thane told me the day of the wedding—how he’d ‘enlisted the help of a prospective resident with a proclivity for hacking even the most secure systems untraceably.’

And suddenly it dawned on me, why Thane transferred Wren to the Directive instead of imprisoning her.

Not only was she the reason the Aureate left the ground in time—the reason we were all alive—she was also the reason Cace had a place here.

I threw my arms around Wren, wrapping her in an impulsive hug.

“Um… what’s this for?” Wren trailed uncomfortably.

“Just… thank you,” I said, releasing her. “You saved us, Wren.”

“Uh, don’t mention it,” she smiled, straightening her glasses. “Funny thing about the end of the world—suddenly siphoning millions of dollars out of billionaires’ accounts doesn’t seem so criminal. It was actually kind of fun.” Her smile spread, then fell just as fast. “And it got my sister here, so…”

“Wren, we’ll find her,” I said. “We’ll break down every door. We’ll bust through walls if we have to.”

“Aiza”—Wren looked at me in defeat—“I’ve looked. I looked everywhere before I was caught—restricted areas, blackout zones. I never found the Argent.”

Blackout zones… The gears started turning in my head.

If the Argent was a blackout zone, then it wasn’t connected to the Arc. And anyone trapped inside of it probably didn’t have active tags, so the Arc couldn’t help us find them… at least not presently. But maybe…

“Wren, you’re right,” I said. “Thane is never going to free those passengers. The only way they’ll ever be free is if we find them and break them out ourselves. They all have tags, right? Is there any way you could hack the Arc and get them back on the grid?”

“I’ve tried that,” she said. “Every time, Thane’s team caught me and seized control again before I could get anywhere.”

“So we need a way to make sure Thane can’t take back control this time… Control!” I gestured excitedly. “You said that’s where Thane and his team access the Arc, right?”

“Yes…” Wren said warily.

“Can you take us to it?”

“What?” Sorrell piped up. “We just spent all day dodging Thane. We just knocked out these guys who were about to take us to him,” she gestured to the blackvests at our feet. “Now you want us to march up to Control and turn ourselves in?”

“We’re not turning ourselves in,” I assured her. “We’re not being dragged back to Thane by a convoy of commanders.” My eyes went to the sidearm on Kyla’s hip, and the image of that hole Niro had shot through the glass in the greenhouse surfaced. If those great glass walls encompassing Thane’s garden weren’t bulletproof… then neither was Control. “We’ll be armed this time,” I said, eyeing the remaining two guns in the commanders’ holsters.

“Whoa, wait.” Tye stepped forward. “What do you mean armed?”

“Aiza, we can’t just go up there, guns blazing!” Kyla exclaimed.

“Why not?” I threw up my arms. “We’ve tried everything else! We have to destroy Control somehow. Thane is up there right now, undoing everything we’ve done, and everyone down there is too busy calling for our heads to see it.” I gestured to the seventh floor. “If we don’t do something, Thane will have every tag back online and the whole system reinstated! This is about to end exactly the way he wants it to. Leo, you’re right,” I said to him. “We can’t let him win. We have to finish what we started. Going behind Thane’s back didn’t work. We have to try a new tack—a direct hit—and it has to be now, while the Arc’s security is still down.”

“What about the stun guns?” Leo suggested, kneeling down and lifting the two off the commander closest to us. “We have six right here, fully loaded, right?”

I looked to Wren. “Would that work?”

“What, firing off a strafe of fifty-thousand-volt stunners in a room made almost entirely out of the circuit boards that control the whole system?” She scoffed. “Yeah, I’d say that would pretty much obliterate it. We’d just have to be careful not to fry ourselves in the process.”

“But it will destroy Control,” I clarified.

Wren nodded. “Irreparably.”

“And then you could access the Arc from somewhere else?”

Wren fiddled with her glasses. “Yes,” she answered, after careful consideration. “It’s still backed up so, in theory, I should be able to bring the prisoners’ tags back online from the subfloor. That computer should be safe. It doesn’t have the capacity to fully restore the Arc and command the ship the way Control does, but it should be able to remotely reactivate and locate a few tags.”

A long turn of silence followed before anyone else spoke.

“Well, I’m in,” Tye broke it first.

I looked to him, feeling a spark of hope.

“Tye…” Kyla began to warn.

“Kyla, I have to do this,” he said. “Now that I know Lucas is alive, I have to get him out. I’m not letting Thane stand in my way anymore. Lucas is my brother, and if that’s the only reason he ended up in that place, I owe this to him.”

He shot her an inescapably compelling look.

Kyla gritted her teeth, then finally conceded. “Fine… for Lucas.”

“And Riley,” Wren said.

“And all those other passengers Thane locked up,” Leo agreed.

“And everyone out here who thinks they’ll never see them again,” Sorrell added.

And for Cace, I thought, hoping it wasn’t too late.

“Well, what are we waiting for?” I said, taking one of the stun guns from Leo.

The others dispersed, lifting the remaining stun guns off the commanders passed out around us. Tye and Kyla had gone to the one farthest away. Their backs were turned, but that didn’t prevent me from seeing Tye grab the stun guns, hand one to Kyla, and then reach over and lift the other weapon off the unwitting soldier.

He slid it into his belt and stood, pulling his jacket down over it, sharing a cagey glance with Kyla as her hand fell to the gun tucked at her waist.

I guess when she said we couldn’t go up there guns blazing, she really meant I couldn’t. Maybe she was right. Maybe that was why I didn’t say anything when she made her way over to me. I just bent my head, pretending to count my stunners.

“I hope you know what you’re doing here,” she said.

“Not really,” I admitted, sliding the cartridge back into the stun gun and lifting my eyes. “Look, Kyla, I know I haven’t always been the easiest to babysit, but⁠—”

“No, Aiza, you were right,” she said. “It took all this to make me see it, but someone had to stand up to Thane. You were the only one of us crazy enough to do it, so…”

“Some would say brave enough,” I pointed out. Kyla smirked. “Someone once told me that I had a choice in all this,” I added, “no matter how impossible Thane makes it seem.”

“She sounds smart,” Kyla commented. “You should listen to her more.”

“I’ll try.” I started to laugh, when suddenly a sharp sliver of pain dug across my torso from where the commander’s boot had struck me. I gripped it with a wince and Kyla’s grin vanished.

“Look, I was wrong before,” she said, “when I told you I couldn’t save you from Thane. It’s my job to protect you, and even though it hasn’t been easy lately”—she gave a chastising glare—“I’d take this over being one of Thane’s goons any day. I was never good at that job anyway.” She cracked a smile. “Whatever happens up there, I’ve got your back.”

I fought to keep my eyes from going straight to her firearm.

“You sure you know how to handle that thing, kiddo?” Tye’s voice came from behind.

I turned to find him pointing at the stun gun in my hand.

“I think I’ve had enough target practice,” I replied, not mentioning the fact that I’d also shot Niro with one. I didn’t want to think about Niro right now, his corpse rotting up in the greenhouse. “What about you?” I asked. “Last time you fired one of these, you missed, remember?”

“Did not!” He shot me an indignant look. “I hit my target, like I always do. Have you forgotten who taught you how to shoot?”

“How could I?” I said, risking a glimpse at the weapon protruding from his jacket. I blinked, tearing my eyes away quickly, but Tye wasn’t looking at me now anyway. He was looking behind me.

I peered over my shoulder and saw Leo standing some distance away, his hands shaking as he stared at the stun gun he held.

“Did you check that it’s loaded?” I asked, crossing over to him.

“What?” Leo looked up. “Oh. How do you…?”

“Here.” I took his stun gun and ejected the chamber, revealing sixteen stunners inside. “Looks good to me.” I slid the mag in and handed it back. “Just make sure the safety’s off before you shoot.” I gestured to the toggle on top. “Then you just point and pull the trigger. Easy enough.”

Leo aimed the stun gun at the wall, tilting his head and squinting. He frowned, lowering the weapon and shaking his head. “I can’t go back to that cell…” he mumbled.

I frowned. “Leo, you won’t. Thane needs us out here.”

“No.” Leo faced me. “He needs you. You’re the one he chose. He can’t throw you in a cell and leave you there, but he can do it to me! He did for years!” He breathed rapidly, looking just as shaken as when he was standing in front of that menacing cell door on the subfloor. “You don’t know what it’s like…” his voice paled to a whimper, “to be trapped, to know that no one is coming for you. I can’t go back to that, Aiza! I can’t!”

“Leo… Leo, look at me!” I gripped his shoulders, leaving him no escape from my gaze. “It will never be like that again. Do you know why?”

Leo’s amber eyes seemed to look straight through me.

“Because you’re not alone anymore,” I said. “I promise, you’re never going to be alone like that again. This time, if Thane locks you away, I’ll find you. I will never stop looking until I find you, do you hear me?”

He didn’t seem to at first.

“Whatever happens, I’m not going to leave you, Leo,” I swore, realizing only afterwards that I’d made the promise to both of them now.

Leo’s eyes finally met mine, glistening with terror as he asked, “What if Thane scrubs you… and you forget me again?”

Again?

“Hey you two!” Kyla called from down the hall. “Come on! Unless you want a welcome party waiting by the time we get up there.”

Leo blinked. “She’s right. We need to go.”

“Are you sure you’re okay to do this?” I asked.

Leo nodded. “I said I’d be with you no matter what. I’ll keep my promise… and you’ll keep yours, right?”

I took a moment to let the weight of both those promises sink in, to grasp how much was riding on each of them. “Yes.” I nodded, and we followed the others to that pinnacle floor.

A familiar intro played as we followed Wren through the luminous white halls of the top floor.

“Rachmaninoff’s Rhapsody,” Cace’s voice in my head transcended the melody.

The thought of seeing Cace again consumed me, but my eagerness was undercut by the fear that he wouldn’t know who I was. I tried my best to banish that fear and focus on the imperative task at hand, as we came up to a door that stood wide open at the end of a tapered hall.

Wren slowed her stride.

“Is that it?” I asked.

She nodded. “That’s Control. I don’t see any security.”

“They’re all either rioting downstairs or looking for us,” I said.

“The door’s open,” Sorrell commented.

Wren crooked her brow. “This might be easier than we thought.”

I hazarded a peek inside the vast room. Thane was standing with his hunched back to us. A balding man sat at his side, the two convened before one of many screens that lined the place from floor to ceiling—a maze of mechanisms, the functions of which I didn’t fully know, but I didn’t need to. My only mission was to do as the Exitus had done to my home all those years ago—decimate it so that it could never again be exhumed.

I signaled the others to line up on the wall just left of the door. I did the same, positioning myself closest to it. “Weapons ready,” I whispered.

“I don’t want excuses!” Thane’s voice suddenly thundered from within. “You and your team assured me it was impregnable, yet here we are! You cannot honestly tell me that the damage that miscreant executed from the basement of the ship is irrevocable! Fix it! Unless you want to end up where she will when I get my hands on her.”

Wren cringed behind me. I peered around the ingress, watching Thane pace huffily, coattails whipping around behind him.

“Uh, sir?” The balding man pointed a shaky finger at the map on the screen, where a single blue dot appeared just outside the room marked Control.

I lifted my sleeve. Sure enough, that blue ring was alight on my wrist again.

“Looks like you found me.”

Thane and his subordinate both whirled around.

“Aiza…” Thane started, no doubt surprised to see me standing here without a Command escort. “How did⁠—”

Before he could eke out another word, I raised my stun gun and pulled the trigger.

“No!” Thane cried as the stunner whistled through the air and latched onto the screen behind him. The glass fractured, white tendrils of energy pulsing through the growing cracks until finally the screen exploded, sending red-hot shards flying across the room.

It was quiet after that. Only the sound of my breathing echoed the crackle of fried circuitry and the faint sound of Rachmaninoff still trickling in from the hall. As stray fragments fell to the floor in a tailspin of sparks, Thane turned to the peon crouched next to him. “Leave us, Arthur.”

He didn’t have to ask twice. Arthur fled the room, shimmying past the others on his way out.

Wren, Sorrell, Tye, Kyla, and Leo all stood in a line behind me. One by one, they raised their weapons and looked to me, awaiting my order.

I nodded, and they opened fire.

Rachmaninoff accompanied the cacophonous symphony that followed—the crash of shattering screens, the hiss of frayed wires spewing sparks, the sporadic buzz of flinching holo-screens, the pop of smoldering circuitry as the stunners’ current burned through the mainframe.

I drove the butt of my stun gun into a nearby screen still sputtering with life, smashing it to pieces.

Then the lights above began to strobe.

A low thrum emanated from somewhere deep inside the walls, followed by a tick, tick, tick. I turned my ear to the sound, breath held as it came faster and faster. And all at once, the walls erupted with a great surge, the sonorous blast knocking us all off our feet.

My back slammed into the floor. I groaned as searing embers rained down. My eyes stung as I blinked in the dark. I felt a blistering heat on my face and craned back to see the low flames flapping nearby.

I shot up, ripping off my jacket and throwing it onto the fire to stomp it out. I coughed, straining in the darkness and dissipating smoke, the room lit only by the tawny gutter of a few small, scattered conflagrations… and a greenish-blue whisper of light emitting from somewhere behind me.

I turned to face the screen that had somehow gone unmarked by our attack. How it was still intact, I didn’t know, but I intended to remedy that now.

I checked the chamber of my stun gun. One left.

As the others staggered to their feet, I walked toward the screen, cutting through the fog of floating cinders, ignoring the crunch of glass beneath my boots. I lifted my gun, but just as my finger curled around the trigger, Thane appeared at the end of my muzzle.

“Step aside, Thane,” I commanded.

But Thane stood his ground, his silhouette gasping in the green-blue light.

“Why wasn’t this one hit?” I gestured to the screen.

“It’s protected,” Thane wheezed. “Please, Aiza… look around. You’ve done what you came to do. You’ve shattered the system. But this”—his hand shook as he motioned to the unbroken display behind him—“this has nothing to do with the Arc. Our lives depend on this. Please. It’s the only thing that makes the Salvus Team’s sacrifice worth something—years of data collected from instruments they left on the ground. It’s our only remaining connection to the outside world. It must be preserved.”

I eyed him ambivalently, considering his plea. I lowered my gun and approached the display. It appeared to be a topographical map—an irregularly shaped mass of land surrounded by ocean. The map was live—tiny blue dots forming wavy lines that bowled in strange patterns across the right of the screen. A list of figures and integers cascaded down the left of it, some changing frequently, some reading steady.

“Is this…?” I trailed.

“It’s a live feed of Salvus,” Thane confirmed. “Our future home.”

“And this?” I pointed to the odd, skittering blue dots.

“That”—Thane took another gulping breath—“is just one of many dangers on the ground currently, and it’s most likely what killed the Salvus Team—tsunamis.”

“Tsunamis?” I repeated dubiously.

Thane nodded. “Before the Exitus,” he explained, “the earth’s surface was approximately seventy-one percent ocean. Now that number stands at over ninety-nine point nine. The quakes have stopped, but the aftershocks are ongoing, generating massive tsunamis that are not only dangerous in and of themselves, but are quickly eroding any land left standing above sea-level.”

“But…” I contended, pointing to the blue dots trundling to the far right of the screen, barely grazing the shoreline, “these waves aren’t even hitting Salvus.”

“Not currently,” Thane stressed, then shook his head. “Whatever hopes you’re entertaining, Aiza, abandon them now. These tsunamis have swallowed entire continents, or what was left of them. They devoured the Salvus Team—five hundred souls—in just over a day. They are erratic, and catastrophic, and they harbor no concern for sparing these lives we’ve worked so hard to preserve. And… they were not the only hazardous element the Salvus Team faced during their short hours on the ground.”

“Let me guess,” I said, citing our previous conversation, “exposed radiation, heavy air pollution, lack of ecosystem?”

“To name a few,” Thane gestured. “Other obstacles include infertile soil, hostile atmosphere, toxicity in the water after absorbing the earth’s remains—any of which could either cause the food we grow to be inedible or stagnate growth altogether. Adding to that list, while Salvus is currently reading stable, there is still a chance it could crumble under tectonic strain or become submerged entirely within the next few decades. See, Aiza, we boarded this ship to ride out the quakes, but that was just one in a number of phases of degradation the earth will undergo. When those quakes laid waste to our world, they set off a chain of scourges, the effects of which diminish our chances of survival to near nullity. I’ve said it before… the fight for our lives is far from over.”

“How do you know all this?” I asked.

Thane gestured to the screen. “Telemetry from the Salvus Team’s instruments is still transmitting to the ship. As I stated, they gave their lives for this information. You see… the Salvus Team wasn’t just sent to the ground to lay the foundation for us. They had to survive first… if they could. We never expected them to be wiped out so quickly, before we had the chance to… ‘send help,’” he quoted the final appeal of the last team member to die, “but the truth is, they were⁠—”

“They were just a trial group,” I uttered, “sent to test the ground for survivability. Did they know?”

Thane’s glare shot abruptly to me. “They understood the risk. They were some of the strongest, smartest, most capable survivalists in the world, and a reconnaissance mission on the ground post-Exitus was a better option than facing the initial quakes, which always resulted in one hundred percent fatality.”

“But it wasn’t better,” I returned vehemently. “They still died. And even before you sent them, you knew how dangerous it would be for any of us to go back! That’s why you created the Nightmare—to scare us out of wanting to!”

“The Nightmare was a necessary reminder!” Thane’s voice boomed. “Every time we announced another grounding delay, we came that much closer to the anarchy currently overtaking the ship! The inevitable flaw in purging those painful memories was that the truth was forgotten with them. None of these people understood what stepping foot outside this ship again would mean. Bringing back memories of the Exitus was the only way to put it into perspective. Those Nightmares were real, Aiza. You know better than any of them—that is the reality of the world outside. And yet every time you were up on that stage, you made promises about the future that you were in no position to make! This is still the Age of the Exitus. There are no survivors beyond these walls for a reason. Up here, we’re safe, but that will change the moment you step foot on the ground again.”

“Are you ever planning to take us back?” I demanded.

Thane leered tenuously before relinquishing his answer. “No. I am not.”

“We can’t stay on this ship forever,” I impugned. “You said we had to ‘survive at all costs.’ Those were your words, not mine!”

“I meant humanity must survive!” Thane refuted. “Even if it means I don’t get to see it… you will live. These people will go back to the ground someday, but I won’t be the one to take them. You will.”

My only response was a single, shuddering breath.

“Don’t you see it yet, Aiza?” Thane pressed in my silence. “It’s no secret that those of us in the Directive have spent our lot of years in the world as it was. And as I said, going back to the ground will take time. It’s entirely possible that by the time we’ve worked out a viable plan for our return, most, if not all of us in the Directive will be dead, or close to it. They all understood when they came aboard that the Aureate might be as far as any of us would go. We chose the two of you”—his eyes shifted between me and Leo—“to finish what we started. None of us wanted to have to pass off such an enormous responsibility to two children, but truthfully, when the time does come for you to go back, you won’t be children anymore. We appointed you here and now so that we could help prepare you for what is to come.”

Every instinct I had screamed at me to reject his assertions, discount them all as lies… but for once, I had to concede Thane might be giving me the full truth.

“You’re right, Aiza,” he continued. “You can’t stay here forever. No matter the danger, you will have to try out there someday. Not because I say so, or because it’s what you’ve been preparing for all these years… but because none of you will be content to remain on this ship for the rest of your days. You promised these people a life on the ground. It will be up to you to make sure they see it someday.”

I blenched, terrified at the prospect that I alone would have to deliver on that promise.

“The day is coming when anyone who wants to see a life outside of these walls is going to have to fight for it,” Thane said. “You and Leo will lead that fight. History will write you as the ones responsible for humanity’s return to the ground. Not the Directive. Not the Aureate. Not me. The New World—whatever it becomes—will belong to you.”

As his eyeline darted from me to Leo, I felt it incumbent to ask another question. “If Leo was always going to be Primary, then why did you make him a prisoner here? You kept him in that cell for over three years, scrubbing and rescrubbing him, and you only let him out when you were ready to crown us. Why?”

“Because he had to forget,” Thane replied through gritted teeth.

“Forget what?” Leo came forward.

Thane bided his silence.

“Right.” Leo scoffed. “Of course, you won’t tell me now.”

“What was it, Thane?” I exhorted, because if Leo wasn’t going to demand the answers Thane owed him for all those years he’d spent caged like an animal and having poison shot into his veins, then I would. “There’s something you wanted to make sure none of us ever remembered about where we came from, and it wasn’t the Exitus. What else was so important to blot out, it was worth taking everything—scrubbing us all, under the pretense that it was the only way to move forward?”

“Don’t do this, Aiza.” Thane’s eyes burned with warning. “Erasing everything was the only way…”

“The only way what?”

“To protect you!” Thane shouted. “I swore I would protect you… and so I have. I’ve kept my promise.”

“The scrub protected you.”

I considered all the times he’d said it to me over the years, how I had always assumed he meant that it protected us all.

Maybe I was wrong.

“Why would the scrub protect me?” I asked. “Who did you promise?”

“I’m sorry, Aiza.” Thane crooked his head. “I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?” I belied. “What’s stopping you?”

Pop! Another circuit board suddenly went off. Thane recoiled, his silver gaze zipping around anxiously.

He peered over my shoulder, out into the hall… still afraid that someone out there might be listening.

I looked, but again… I saw no one there.

I turned back to Thane. His eyes snapped to me. Wide. Fearful. Paranoid.

I’d seen that look before, when he first told me that he was crowning me, and again, when I confronted him about the disappeared passengers, and most recently, when he divulged the truth about the Salvus Team’s demise. On each occasion, I’d asked him the same thing that I stood before him asking now. Why me?

I ventured a step closer and revised my earlier question, “Thane… who is stopping you?”

“No one is stopping me,” Thane answered with a supercilious scoff, but his eyes kept drifting back to the door, as though he was expecting someone to walk through it.

“Fine,” I said. “Then tell me where Cace is.”

Thane’s glare flew to me, as if I had no right speaking his name. “Somewhere he can no longer interfere with the plan,” he bit out.

“You mean the Argent?”

I had his attention now.

“Where did you hear that name?” he sneered.

“From you.” I hazarded another step, further enclosing the space between us. “You’re not the only one who listens,” I said. “All those people who disappeared in the beginning—you locked them all away—everyone who remembered, and every younger sibling of someone out here. You incarcerated them so they couldn’t compromise the scrub for the rest of us.”

“Be careful, Aiza,” Thane warned. “There are very few who know the truth about the Argent, and I assure you, no matter what you think you heard, you are not one of them.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I rejoined. “You don’t control the Arc anymore. We can find the prisoners ourselves now.”

“Oh, Aiza.” Thane gave a denigrating head shake. “Is that what this was all about? Even if you did somehow manage to salvage anything from these vestigial shambles”—he gestured around us—“the Arc won’t help you find the Argent. It isn’t on the grid. It never was.”

“He’s lying,” Kyla called his bluff.

“Where is it?” Tye demanded, tearing across the room and grabbing Thane by the lapels. “Where is my brother?”

“I don’t know where he is!” Thane whimpered in Tye’s emasculating grip.

“You’re lying!” Tye roared. “You put him away!”

“No, I didn’t!” Thane swore desperately. “It wasn’t me!”

Tye loosened his hold on Thane, taking a step back.

A confused, charged silence prevailed upon the room.

“I’m sorry,” Thane entreated raggedly, not bothering to straighten his jacket. “I don’t know where the Argent is… but I know Cace isn’t there.” His gray eyes met mine ruefully.

“Where is he?” I asked.

“I told you, he’s gone,” Thane said with a strange air of defeat. “No crew member gets to defy the rules like he did and get away with it… not even my son.”

He waited while the shockwave of gasps and murmurs swept through the room, his eyes never breaking from mine.

“I keep trying to tell you,” he said finally, “this ship does not belong solely to me. There was a plan for you, Aiza, and Cace was not a part of it. You two were never supposed to find each other. I know I didn’t give him the best life here, but at least he lived! At least he would’ve had a chance in the New World! Everything would’ve been fine if you had just left him out of this like I warned you to,” he snarled venomously, then dropped his voice. “I told you there were people here who wanted him gone.”

I gulped, that last word drilling a deep pit of panic into my chest. No, I told myself. It’s not true. Thane only wanted me to think it was so I wouldn’t go looking for him. I’d made the mistake of taking Thane at his word once, and I almost lost Cace because of it. I would not make that mistake again. I lifted my stun gun and pointed it at Thane.

“Where is Cace? Tell me!” The words ripped from my throat in a violent cry.

Boom! I jumped at the jarring sound. Another network of wires combusted, wrapping an entire wall in flames. Smoke began to fill the room. Then something sputtered and hissed above us… and I felt something I hadn’t in a long time.

Rain.

I looked up, watching the sprinklers lower from the ceiling, a deluge of water spouting from them. I closed my eyes as it poured down my face and slid coolly down my neck, dousing my hair and clothes, extinguishing the last of the flames around us.

I opened my eyes, leveling my glare at Thane again. Then my focus fell to the charged weapon in my hand. I watched the tiny droplets roll down the barrel, feeling every ounce of emboldening rage wash away with them.

I lowered the stun gun.

I couldn’t do this, and now everyone here knew why.

“Aiza?”

I braced at the sound of his voice, my heart beating hopefully.

I turned around slowly, afraid he wouldn’t really be there.

But there he stood, his lip fully healed, hardly any trace of bruising around his eye. The water was already soaking through his white shirt, making it cling tightly to his chest and torso, the blue gem around his neck catching what little light there was.

The necklace. Relief rippled through me. He wouldn’t still have it if he’d been rescrubbed.

“Cace…” I breathed his name, throwing the stun gun to the floor, running and flinging my arms around him in the downpour. As his arms enveloped me, a fractured smile fluttered on my lips. “You remember.”

“I told you I couldn’t forget you,” his voice floated sweetly around me.

I shut my eyes. I pressed my cheek to his damp chest and listened to his steady heartbeat between the soft patter of rain. “I was afraid I’d never see you again,” I uttered.

Cace’s jaw grazed my temple, but he said nothing.

I pulled away, searching his pensive, blue gaze. The knot in my stomach that was just starting to give tightened again as I began to understand. “You’re not staying, are you?”

“I don’t know,” Cace answered. Then, as if suddenly the clock was running out, he reached up, unclasped the locket around his neck, and pressed it into my palm. “Promise you won’t forget me either.”

My eyes fell to the gold periapt. My thumb brushed the blue stone, water sliding off the etched golden face. “How did you get up here?” I suddenly thought to ask.

“They brought me here,” Cace said, drawing close, but keeping his head angled, alert… listening.

“Who?”

“I’m not sure.”

I looked down, suddenly noticing a strip of bandaging across his left forearm.

“Cace, your arm.” I turned it over in my hand.

“What does it spell?” he asked.

“Spell?”

I peeled the bandage away, revealing six bold letters tattooed on his skin, red and raised beneath the fresh, black ink. “Argent,” I read.

“What?” Tye stammered forward. “That tag”—he pointed to it—“it’s the same one they gave Lucas right before he disappeared.”

I turned to Thane, ready to demand to know why he’d bothered summoning Cace here if he was only going to take him away again. But then I saw the way he looked at his son—like he’d just crawled out of the grave—and I realized… he wasn’t the one who’d summoned Cace here. In fact, he and I might have been equally in the dark as to where Cace was these last four days.

“Impossible.” Thane shuddered as he stared at Cace’s arm.

“Thane”—I gestured to the inked letters—“who did this?”

Thane stumbled back, the projection of silver static from one of the glitching holo-screens consuming him, his gaze flitting around frantically, as if he was looking for someone he couldn’t see… but knew was here.

I looked around, but still I saw no one. I turned back to Thane.

“I’m sorry,” his voice shook inordinately, pale eyes pleading as they fixed on me, the fuzzy, silver light cast over his face making him appear almost spectral. “I’m sorry I couldn’t protect you from him like I promised,” he beseeched.

“Protect me from who?” I asked. Before Thane could answer, Leo mumbled something next to me. I turned to him. “What did you say?”

“Lin,” Leo repeated, loud and clear, lifting his eyes to me. “Anna Lin. Was that your name before?”

“I-I don’t know,” I stammered.

“I do. Aiza.” Leo gripped my arm—a wild, revelatory fire in his eyes. “I remember now. I know what they needed me to forget. It was you.”

“Don’t!” Thane’s voice gusted across the room, eyes aglow as they darted around in search of whoever was listening to us.

Thane said this ship didn’t belong solely to him.

Maybe he was telling the truth.

Maybe he was just another mask. Like Leo. Like me. One mask after another, all to conceal the identity of the Aureate’s true author and architect.

A show of masks, the words swirled in my head.

I approached Thane, speaking over the rain, “When I first came here, I had a perfect preliminary score. Someone forged that score because they wanted me on this ship. If it wasn’t you, then who was it?”

“I… can’t tell you,” Thane juddered.

“Why? Why did it have to be me, Thane? Why me?”

“Because, Aiza! You’re⁠—”

Bang!

Thane’s answer was sundered by the sudden, thunderous peal of a gunshot.

His silver eyes flashed as the bullet tore through his chest. He fell to the ground, blood instantly blooming across his white shirt and pooling beneath him.

I released a staggered breath and whirled around, half expecting to find Kyla or Tye holding the smoking gun. But it wasn’t either of them. I didn’t see who it was, not before Kyla shouted, “Aiza, get down!”

I ducked as she unsheathed her weapon, aiming it over my head.

Two blaring shots went off—one echoing the other.

My ears were still ringing as I lifted my head and glanced around in search of where the hostile shots had come from.

My heart was beating so loud… I almost didn’t hear the small, soft gasp behind me.

I turned around.

Cace was gripping his upper chest, crimson already gushing between his fingers where the bullet had pierced him.

He winced, lifting his face, his eyes going wide with shock just before they rolled back.

I dove to catch him as he plunged to the ground.

“Cace!” I screamed, crashing to my knees, catching him just before he hit the floor.

My arms shook as I held him. My soaked hair smacked my cheek as I whipped my head around, scanning for the phantom shooter, but I couldn’t see in all the smoke that had gathered.

“Kyla!” I heard Tye cry out behind me.

Two more shots rang out. I ducked as their echoing boom rolled through the room. When I lifted my head, the lights were palpitating again, the smoke parting just enough for me to see Kyla drop her gun and clutch her chest. She held her hand out in front of her, red dripping from her trembling fingers.

Tye’s gun clattered to the ground. He raced to catch her as she fell, the two of them dipping below the plume of smoke.

“Aiza?” Cace lifted his hand, not quite reaching my face.

I blinked and looked down at him, fighting for his life in my arms. My fist still clutched the chain of his necklace, the blue gem too bright next to his fading eyes.

“Aiza?” He struggled for air, his chest lurching.

“I’m here, Cace.” I took his hand, smudging it with cinders as I pressed it to my cheek. His blood mingled with the rain, forming a river of red around us. “I’m right here,” I said.

But they were just words. Just simple words. I knew they couldn’t save him. I wasn’t even sure he could hear me.

I panned the room for help. Thane was on the floor a few feet away, laboring for breath. Wren and Sorrell were huddled in the corner, Wren quietly hysterical, Sorrell’s arms up over her head as if shots were still firing. Tye was holding Kyla so tightly that they looked like a single being in the haze still circulating from the quenched flames.

I coughed into my shoulder, then turned back to Cace, watching him slip away and feeling that same terrible, invasive fear as I did in that alley all those years ago, when I found the boy I’d left there missing.

Cace’s eyes opened, slivers of blue searching to find my face one last time amidst the muddle of smoke and shadow and light. As I drew closer, the strangulated sound that escaped his parted lips sounded like death itself stealing him away. Then his eyes closed again. His head collapsed back.

“Cace?” A quiet panic filled me, the tunnel pulling me deeper into its eclipsing darkness. “Cace?” I jostled him, but he didn’t move.

I laid him gently on the floor and held my ear to his chest, but I couldn’t hear his heartbeat now—only infinite stillness.

“Please.” I took Cace’s hand in mine, succumbing to tears. “Please don’t leave me, Cace.”

I don’t care about any end of the road where you’re not with me.

“One day…” I sniffed, my voice barely treading above a whimper, “we’ll leave this place behind. We’ll go somewhere no one can find us. It’ll just be me”—I closed my other shaking hand around his—“and you. Just stay with me until then. Don’t leave me, please.” My chest heaved as I repeated the words like an incantation that might somehow bring him back to me. “Please don’t leave me.”

I watched through misty eyes as my right hand traveled across his chest, reaching for his other hand draped limply atop his wound. I weaved my fingers into his, his blood staining my skin. I pressed my head to his and closed my eyes, tears stinging my cheeks.

I thought I knew what for now was. But I had no idea how suddenly someone who meant so much to me could be ripped away.

That is the nature of for now.

I laid my cheek on his chest, listening to the endless silence.

“I love you, Cace,” I said. “I’ve never loved anyone the way I love you. Please don’t leave me.”

They were just words. Just simple words.

But maybe he heard them that time. Because he answered with a single heartbeat.

I gasped, lifting my face with a jolt before I remembered myself and pressed my cheek to Cace’s chest again, willing my own heartbeat to quiet as I listened for his.

Silence. Did I imagine it?

I closed my eyes and listened closer.

There. I heard a faint, two-beat pulse.

I listened for another, then another after that.

The longer I listened, the stronger and steadier the beats came.

Finally, Cace’s eyes fluttered open. He lifted his head.

I stared at him, unblinking, waiting for him to speak.

“I love you, too,” he said at last.

I laughed and sobbed and pulled him close.

Cace’s arms slid tremulously around me.

“I thought you were… I thought…” I couldn’t even finish the sentiment, too overcome with relief that it wasn’t true.

“It’s okay,” Cace whispered. “I’m here. I’m right here.”

“Don’t you dare leave me like that again.” I sniffled.

He buried his face in my shoulder. I won’t, I waited for him to say, but instead, I felt him go limp in my arms again.

“Cace?” I pushed away and saw the wound on his shoulder still bleeding. He made a faint sound, hardly able to keep his eyes open. “No.” I shook my head obstinately. “I am not losing you again. I’m taking you to Med,” I grunted, struggling to hold him upright. “First I need something to stanch the bleeding…”

I looked around and spotted my jacket on the floor, only slightly charred by flames. I reached out, flexing my fingertips to snag it. I wrung it up and wrapped it around Cace’s shoulder, cinching it tight.

“Ah!” Cace wailed, his eyes snapping open.

“Sorry.”

“Cace?” a reedy voice bade from the corner of the room.

I turned to see Thane propped against a wall under one of the flickering screens.

“Come…” he beckoned, gaunt fingers twitching at his side. “Please.”

With some travail, Cace clutched his injured shoulder and crossed the room, guided by the sound of Thane’s fraught breathing.

“I’m sorry,” Thane said, placing a hand on his son’s arm, “for everything.” He coughed, his lips gleaming red. “I just wanted you to live.”

Cace placed a hand on his father’s, confliction burning in his blue eyes.

But Thane didn’t have time to wait for forgiveness that he knew Cace couldn’t grant him now. He’d given his apology. Clemency could come after he was gone. “Aiza,” he summoned me, and as I kneeled beside him, he implored in a final salvo of strength, “Find the Argent. Find the prisoners. They’re alive.”

“Where?” I asked.

“I don’t know. I never found it.” Thane’s breath grew rapid and shallow. “It’s up to you now.” He scraped out the words with what little air was left in his lungs. “Finish what we started. Deliver them to the New World. We… must survive… at all costs.”

With that, his hand slipped from Cace’s and fell at his side. His grizzled lashes swept closed, and he exhaled his last breath.

Cace’s empty palm trembled in midair.

With slow, careful motions, I took his hand and placed the locket inside of it.

Cace hung his head and folded his fingers around the keepsake, clutching it until his fist shook. Then his strength left him again. He collapsed into me.

“I need to get you to Med,” I said, grappling to hold him up.

I looked across the room to Tye, hoping he could help me, but he was still holding Kyla.

The rain had finally cleared enough of the smoke away that I could see the tattoo on her shoulder—the black bird with its wings lifted. Her skin looked paler against it now. Tye held her so close.

“Tye?” My arid voice barely carried across the room.

Tye lifted his face, but there was so much sorrow in his eyes, it was as if he didn’t even see me. He lowered his arms just enough that I could glimpse Kyla’s face—lifeless and still.

No.

I bit back a sob. A tear slipped down my cheek.

I looked around for the assailant, but I still couldn’t find any sign of him. Except…

There. At the door—a trail of red droplets leading out into the hall.

“Tye.” I pointed to it. “Look.”

Tye peered through puffy eyes at the trail of blood the shooter had left while making his escape. At first, he just stared at it blankly. Then his gaze dropped to the gun at his side, and as he slowly picked it up off the floor, something registered. “I didn’t get him,” he uttered. “I missed.”

“Did you see who it was?” I asked.

Tye shook his head. “I didn’t see his face. He was… wearing a mask.”

A shudder bolted down my back.

Of course he was.

It was he who invented this show of masks.

“Wait,” I said, searching the room again and realizing who else was missing. “Where is Leo?”

FIVE HOURS LATER

“Plans go awry in the Age of the Exitus.”

Tye’s words were all I could hear as I stood alone in the middle of Control and skimmed the dripping, smoldering wreckage we’d left—the metallic fragments scattered in damp darkness, the charred floor smeared with blood.

A severed wire popped next to my ear. I jumped and clenched my fist tighter around Thane’s gold ring in my hand, feeling it dig deeper into my palm. I ignored the cutting sting.

I promised Cace I’d keep the ring safe while he was in surgery. It was the one personal effect he’d asked to keep before they took Thane’s body away.

We didn’t know what to do with the bodies at first. In the end, Tye asked a few trusted friends in Command to help transport them discreetly to the subfloor incinerator.

Cace was out of surgery now, stable and resting, but they still wouldn’t let me see him. I was too restless to pace outside of the recovery room a minute longer, so I wandered back up here, hoping to follow that trail of blood to some clue as to where the shooter had fled with Leo.

I had no luck. The trail disappeared just past the door.

So here I stood, staring into the green-blue glow of the shatterproof Salvus display, contemplating our unknown future.

“You can do this.” I heard Leo’s voice. “You can lead these people.”

A warm, familiar refrain drifted in from the hall outside, and a pang struck me.

It was Ave Maria—the song I’d told Leo I would point out the next time it played.

“I’ll find you,” the promise I’d made him just before he followed me up here rang relentlessly in my head, clashing with the gentle melody. “I will never stop looking until I find you.”

“What if Thane scrubs you,” Leo asked me, “and you forget me again?”

Again.

I was the reason he was kept locked away all those years. All that poison they shot into his veins—it wasn’t the Exitus they wanted to erase. It was me.

I scoured every corner of my broken memory, but I found no clear recollection of Leo, or Isaac.

Unless…

My mind flashed to the day they first brought me onto the ship, to the boy who had raced past me in the halls, calling out my name… “Anna!”

I never really got a good look at him. He ran past me so fast, without so much as a second glance. But according to Tye, that was the day they had brought Leo here, too.

And there was another memory I couldn’t ignore.

The boy in the alley.

“No! Wait! I can’t leave him!” My own cries from that night knelled through my head. “Please! I promised I wouldn’t leave him!”

If Leo was the boy in the alley, then I’d already left him once, and I lost him for a long time because of it. I wasn’t going to let that happen again. No matter what it took, I was going to find him.

“I’m not going to leave you, Leo,” I promised him again, wishing he could hear me, wherever he was now.

A knock came at the door.

I turned to find Sorrell and Wren standing at the threshold.

“Anything?” I asked anxiously.

“Sorry.” Sorrell shook her head. “No sign of Leo yet.”

“But we’re not giving up,” Wren added. “‘We’ll break down every door. We’ll bust through walls if we have to.’”

“Aiza?” Sorrell beckoned, as I distractedly crossed the room, through the mangled machinery, to a strange pair of doors I’d just noticed in the shadows.

“‘Secret little doorways…’” I muttered as I stood before them. “Wren, do you think you can get these open?”

She and Sorrell wandered over. Wren adjusted her glasses, studying the keypad on the wall. “I can try,” she said. “Why? What’s behind them?”

“I think it’s an elevator,” I answered. “I think it goes to Thane’s aerie.” I ran a hand across my forehead, gathering my thoughts, then I turned to Sorrell. “Can you do me one more favor? Can you try to find Tye?”

“Sure,” Sorrell agreed. “Where are you going?”

“I’m going to change before I talk to them.”

Sorrell caught my arm as I started for the exit. “Talk to who?”

I stopped, turned back to her. “Everyone.”

“Aiza,” she tried to caution, “what will you tell them?”

“The truth,” I said. “No more secrets. No more lies. We’ve all been kept in the dark long enough.”

Don’t look down.

The words taunted me as I stood at the window of Thane’s aerie, gazing down at the upheaval amassed below.

I had changed into a fresh blue jacket—one not scorched by flames or sopped in blood. My hair had dried and now hung messily around the gold mask I’d dug out from under my bed. I never wanted to wear a mask again, but I figured it was the only way anyone would know who I was, now that I didn’t have Thane or Leo by my side.

It was late into the night, but the riot still raged. I estimated over half the ship was down there, overflowing the concourse as far as I could see, their muted commotion barely reaching my ears. Screens and speakers lined each side of the tall window I faced, but their feeds were all cut when we attacked Control. No more hidden cameras. No more listening walls.

I didn’t want to look. I wanted to shut my eyes so I couldn’t see the mob underfoot, but every time I did, I saw only the silhouette of that winged bird on Kyla’s shoulder just before they draped the sheet over her body.

‘Beware the bird you cage… It will find its freedom, or in trying, die.’

Kyla said she couldn’t protect me. In the end, she gave her life for me.

She just didn’t know… that bullet wasn’t meant for me.

I did take my mask off at the assembly. Surely someone could’ve seen me before the lights cut—a masked rioter who’d broken through the seal and found his way up to Control tonight.

But the shooter wasn’t a random rioter. And he wasn’t there for me.

He hit his target. But thanks to Kyla, he didn’t kill him.

Thane wasn’t lying. Someone on this ship wanted Cace gone. There was a plan for my life that did not include Cace.

But it was never Thane’s plan.

And tonight was not the first attempt made on Cace’s life.

I didn’t realize it until I was up in the greenhouse, showing Tye’s friends to Niro’s body so they could take it with the others. As they hefted him onto the gurney, I found myself staring once again at the patched hole he’d shot in the glass… and suddenly it struck me.

“Those aren’t my orders.” That was what Niro said to me when I was staring down the barrel of his gun and I asked if he was going to kill me.

His orders were not to kill me that day.

Niro had been sent up there with that gun after Cace showed up at my wedding, after Thane had no doubt assured someone that Cace would never interfere with the plan again. Niro was supposed to kill Cace in that greenhouse, but I emptied his gun and stunned him before he had the chance, so he was killed instead.

Someone on this ship wanted Cace gone, and now that Thane was out of the picture, there was nothing stopping him from trying again.

“Not sure if you heard…”

My heart jumped at the sound of his voice. I turned to find him leaning by the elevator. I must not have heard it open over the din below.

He wore a clean, white shirt, the bandage on his shoulder peeking out of the collar, his left arm cradled in a sling. His bronze hair was freshly tousled, the sheen of his tan skin glistening in the light, along with the blue stone in the center of the locket around his neck.

“There’s an angry mob out there.” Cace gestured with his good arm and flashed that enigmatic smile I worried I’d never see again.

I ran to him, wrapping my arms around him gently, mindful of his injuries.

He traced the gilded cheek of my mask and tipped his head curiously.

“I’ll explain later,” I said, taking his hand in mine, glancing at our tag-less wrists. “How did you find me?”

“Sorrell and Wren came by when they discharged me, showed me to the secret elevator.”

“I wanted to be there when you woke up.”

Cace wrinkled his brow. “Did you get lost?” he teased, gesturing to the room we stood in—two stories above Med.

I smiled. “What did the doctors say?”

“I’ll live,” he gave the short answer. “I just have to wear this sling for a few weeks.”

“Good.” I felt a tear surface. “I was worried about you.”

“You sound like the doctors,” he said. “They all seemed pretty concerned about a crew kid with a hole in his shoulder.”

“Well, that might be because…” I began reluctantly, “while you were under… I might’ve told them about your relation to the Chancellor.”

Cace’s expression turned reproachful. “You didn’t. Aiza…”

“I just wanted them to do everything they could to save you,” I said defensively.

“People are going to find out soon enough that he’s⁠—”

“I know,” I cut in. I took his hand and placed his father’s ring inside. “Cace… about your father⁠—”

“Aiza, we don’t have to talk about it.” His hand closed around the ring. “Not yet.”

“Okay,” I nodded, understanding what he really meant—that he wasn’t ready to talk about it. “I just think maybe we were wrong about him.”

Cace’s brow lifted.

“I know,” I said again. “I know what he was like here. But… I don’t think that was really him. That was just the part he had to play. Look,” I began to convey everything I’d managed to piece together while he was in surgery, “the Aureate was built in the Dead Zone, right? But even out there, there’s no way a ship this size would stay off the Primary of Eiena’s radar… unless there was someone to divert her attention away from it—an inside man. You said your father worked for her. He was her ancillary, right?” I asked, even though I already knew the answer.

“There will be no ancillaries in the New World,” Thane’s bitter comment resurfaced. “That structure of the monarchy will die with the Old, never to be resurrected.”

That wasn’t entirely true, though.

“I think…” I wavered a moment before arriving at my point, “I think that’s all he was here, too. I think he was telling the truth. The Aureate never really belonged to him. He was just the ancillary to whoever it really belongs to.”

Cace pondered this for a long time before finally asking, “Who?”

“I don’t know,” I confessed. “Whoever he is… he doesn’t want to be found. That’s why he used Thane as a figurehead… until he shot him.”

“Then he took a shot at me”—Cace frowned, working it out—“which means…”

“You’re not safe here,” I finished the thought, looking at the pulsing disruption below and feeling that inexorable fear creep in once again—that we were not meant to live in the world as it was now.

“Thane was right,” I said. “We can’t stay here forever. I’m not saying we’ll go back tomorrow, but eventually we’ll have to figure out how to go back. ‘Survive at all costs…’” I cited the words Thane had imparted with his final breath.

“Even when it feels like a mistake?” Cace’s voice quivered slightly.

I turned to him. He summoned that masking smile again, but I saw through it now, saw just how much he kept hidden behind it.

“Looks like you found her,” Sorrell said as she and Wren stepped off the elevator.

“You ready?” Wren asked me. “Tye’s waiting for us.”

Cace shot me an inquisitive look. “Ready for what?”

“I’m going to talk to them,” I said. “I’m going to tell them the truth… as far as I know it.”

“Hence the mask,” Cace deduced. I expected him to protest, but instead he said, “I’m coming with you.”

“Cace… it might not be safe.”

“If what you said is true, then nowhere on this ship is safe for me now,” he argued. “At least down there, I’ll be in a crowd… with witnesses.”

He had a point.

“I’m not leaving you,” he added stubbornly, finding my hand.

So, I turned out the lights and the four of us exited Thane’s perch.

Tye waited for us by the main elevators as promised. I saw the eerie, empty look in his eyes, so devoid of the razor-sharp focus they usually held, and I was reminded of what he said in the bunker about Kyla. “She’s stayed with me.”

I wondered if he ever found the chance to tell her.

Tye saw us coming and gave a listless smile. “Ready for this, kiddo?” he asked.

You’re talking, I thought. That’s good. It means you’re not still in shock.

“Not really,” I confessed, pulling in a deep breath.

Tye tapped the button for the elevator to take us down. “You’re doing the right thing,” he said as the doors opened. “We’re all right behind you.”

“Thanks,” I managed, as we all filed in and the doors drew shut.

“It’s up to you now,” Thane’s words ricocheted in my head while we plunged toward the upheaval that I alone would have to quell. “Finish what we started. Deliver them to the New World.”

The further the elevator descended, the louder the furor grew. Enraged shouts accompanied fists banging angrily against the doors until they finally pulled open.

Play the part, I reminded myself, until you have all the pieces.

I stepped out of the elevator and the commotion ebbed briefly. The frontmost rows parted, yielding a path as the five of us marched into the crowd—a Directive, a commander, a resident, and a crew member, holding the arm of the Masked Primary.

I stopped in the middle of the mob, drawing a nervous breath. All eyes landed on me. Cace’s hand fell away as I reached up and removed the golden visage.

Their reaction grew slowly. Some in front recognized me right away, murmuring amongst themselves about the defect. Most were too far away to see me, but the scurrilous whispers spread fast, as they always had here on the Aureate.

I wanted to run. I wanted more than anything to run and hide in that water closet, or the bunker, or the subfloor. But I stood my ground and let them all see my face.

Finally, a voice in back rose over the droning chatter. “You’re her. The Masked Primary.”

I cleared my throat. “Yes,” I answered as intelligibly as I could.

No more secrets.

“You’re just a kid!” cried another.

“I’m eighteen,” I replied, not entirely sure if I was arguing or agreeing.

“Are you bringing the Arc back?”

This inspired a groundswell of follow-up questions. I waited for them to die out before I answered, “The Arc has been destroyed. Permanently.”

“The Chancellor told us our tags were coming back on!” one recapitulated.

“Chancellor Thane is dead,” I replied, a catch in my voice. “He was killed today.”

No more lies.

“By you?”

“Not by me.” I shook my head, not sure anyone would believe me.

“By who, then?” one voice questioned, thick with suspicion.

“Was it someone from the Directive?”

“I knew it! They’re all turning on each other up there!”

“They don’t know what they’re doing! They’re the reason the Salvus Team is dead!”

“We can’t trust them!”

The onslaught of imputations fired from every direction. I let it go on for a while, partly because nothing they were saying was entirely untrue, but mostly because I didn’t come here to refute rumors or to pacify unrest.

“Everyone quiet!” a resident girl with a commanding voice shouted, cutting to the front of the throng. As the noise around her relented, she looked me dead-on and asked, “What happens to us now? Is it true we can’t go back?”

Before I could answer, another deluge of questions and panicked outcry drowned me out.

“What’s happening on the ground?”

“What will happen to us if we go back?”

“What will happen if we don’t?”

“How much longer can we stay up here?”

“Is the Salvus Team really dead?”

“Are the quakes still active?”

“Isn’t there somewhere we can go that’s safe?”

They were all fair questions. Most of them I had asked Thane myself at one point or another. Finally, the questions ran out. The crowd quieted and all eyes fell on me again.

“These people listen to you, Aiza,” Leo’s voice beckoned to me in the spanning silence. “They don’t know the truth. You’re the only one who can give it to them.”

Unfortunately, the truth… was the same as the answer to why I was here, who brought us here, and what I was supposed to do now… without Thane, without Kyla, without Leo.

“I don’t know,” I said. Instantly, the voices rose to defy me, but I made mine louder. “I don’t know what it’s like out there now. I don’t know what will happen to us when we go back. I don’t know how much longer we can stay up here. All I can tell you for certain is that the Salvus Team did die out there. The quakes have stopped, but the ground is still dangerous, no matter where we go.” Again, I couldn’t stop myself from voicing Thane’s words, “The things you all saw while you were under the Nightmare were real. That’s the reality of the world outside. Up here, we’re safe, but that will change the moment we step foot on the ground again. The day is coming when anyone who wants to see a life outside of these walls is going to have to fight for it. This ship is not going to be the end of the road. We will go back someday, but we only get one shot.” It was Leo’s words I borrowed from now. “We have to make it count. We have to know what we’re facing out there if we want to stand a chance. It’s up to us. We can’t fail. We won’t stay here forever, but for now… the Aureate is our home. And it belongs to all of us. That’s why, starting now… the crew will train with everyone else,” I announced definitively, “and we are all going to start sharing their workload to give them a chance to catch up. From now on, we live and work together. That’s how we’ll survive on the ground. That’s the end of the road”—I looked to Cace—“and it’s worth fighting for.”

The crowd tumbled back into frantic dissonance. As the chaos closed in on us, I reached for Cace’s free hand and held it tight.

Then, somewhere amongst the ravenous cries of fear and fury, I heard music playing again.

That piece… I could barely pick it out over the commotion surrounding me, but I recognized the prelude of low, somber notes ringing out in haunting harmony with light, lilting ones.

Chopin. Nocturne No.7 in C Sharp Minor.

It was the first piece I’d ever heard on the ship, right before I was scrubbed.

But where was it coming from? Who was playing it?

I looked up, straining to see into the tenebrous window of Thane’s aerie.

There, right where I had been standing moments ago, a figure looked down on me from darkness.

My heart stopped.

For a split-second, I thought I was seeing Thane’s ghost.

But it wasn’t Thane.

It was another ghost—one I hadn’t seen for a long time, except in my Nightmares.

The Man in Shadows.

The phantom in the brimmed hat who’d followed me all my life, lurking in dark corners, watching me from the mantle… he was here.

How did he follow me here?

Then it hit me like a quake hits the earth—subtle at first, then instantly shattering.

He didn’t follow me here. He brought me here.

He brought us all here.

He was the Aureate’s true captain and creator.

I will find you, I swore to the menacing shadow watching me from aloft. And when I do, you will tell me where Leo is, and the others you imprisoned. You will tell me everything.

That was the paradox of our sanctuary in the sky. We were all trapped here. There was nowhere for him to run either. Nowhere to hide.

I leered at the looming figure, letting the mask fall from my hand.

No more masks.

I was done fearing the monster from my Nightmares.

I had revealed my face. Soon he would reveal his.

The show is over now.

End of Book One

Hannah J. August lives in Northern California with her husband and cats. In the winter, she’s usually inside reading, writing, or listening to music. In the summer, she enjoys camping, visiting the river, and being in the sun. She especially enjoys reading a good series, and plans for The Aureate to be the first book in a trilogy.

Thank you to Selkkie Designs for such an incredible cover. I couldn’t have imagined anything more perfect for this book.

Thank you to Halle at AJ Wolf Graphics for providing such beautiful formatting.

Thank you to my wonderful editor, Joyce at ReJoyce Literary Editing Co., for everything you’ve done to help polish this book up, for giving it such care and attention, and providing such incredible support along the way.

Thank you to Courtney, without whom this book might not have seen the light of day. Thank you for always being in my corner, in writing and in life, for believing in this book from the beginning and never letting me give up. You’re the best friend a girl could ask for and I’m so glad that now we get to share writing as well.

Thank you to Emilee, for being a wonderful friend and boss and giving me the best ‘day job’ I could ever ask for while I was writing this book and for always being so supportive.

Thank you to Juliana, for supporting me as well, and also for giving me a wonderful place to work while I made this dream a reality.

Thank you to Naomi for always being so encouraging while I was writing this. I will forever be grateful for my time with your family and for your friendship.

Thank you to my family. You all have been so supportive in my slow progress and pursuit of this dream—especially you, Lu. All those hours we spent poring over our bookshelves in each other’s rooms and talking about our favorite stories was really what started all of this and helped me keep going, even when it was difficult.

Thank you to my mom, for always giving me a safe place to land and a space to write, and for continuing to teach me to stress less and find the bright side of life.

Thank you to my dad, for always believing in the ‘dreamer’ side of me and encouraging me to embrace it.

Thank you to Bethany, not only for your unwavering sisterly support, but also for being an early reader, and for providing the beautiful artwork I used to start promoting this book early on.

Thank you to Eddie, for your never-tiring cheer and support as well.

Thank you to my amazing husband, Nate. I was always afraid I’d never find anyone who would put up with the time and dedication it would take to finish this book. I never imagined I’d find someone as incredibly supportive as you. You’re the love of my life, and you’re wonderful in so many ways, but for the purpose of this acknowledgement, from the bottom of my heart, thank you for being there while I crossed the finish line to get this book out into the world. I truly could not have done it without you.

Last, but not least, thank you to the readers! I cannot express the measure of my gratitude to everyone who’s taken a chance on this book. I’m so grateful for each and every one of you.

Please note this book contains the following: natural disaster; brief depictions of post-traumatic stress, brief violence, blood, and use of guns; brief depictions of death; themes of loss, grief, and hardship.