Table of Contents

Prologue: [SHATTERED]
One: Of Recapping
Two: Buckle Up, Sweetheart
Three: Of Unwanted Conversations
Four: To Look Upon Ruin
Five: Felix, Part II
Six: Starlight
Seven: Ashes, Ashes
Eight: Like a Lamb
Nine: Mikhail
Ten: Argos
Eleven: Control
Twelve: Reunions
Thirteen: C.A.N.A.A.N.
Fourteen: Of Needed Conversations
Fifteen: Gwen Stevens, pt. II
Sixteen: Blood and Water
Seventeen: Of Happy Days
Eighteen: Of Leaving and of Starting Again
Nineteen: Of Time and Happy Things
Twenty: Athena
Twenty-One: Living and Dead
Twenty-Two: Shatter Me
Twenty-Three: Of Revelations
Twenty-Four: Of Renewal
Twenty-Five: Pockets Full of Posies
Twenty-Six: Of Uncertainty
Twenty-Seven: Decisions
Twenty-Eight: Arrivals and Departures
Twenty-Nine: We All Fall Down
Thirty: Come Again Another Day
Epilogue
Author's Note
 Prologue: [SHATTERED]

A/N: Hello! Welcome, dear reader, to book 2 of the Burning series! This book follows
the events of its predecessor, Dust, which can be found on my profile! I hope you all
enjoy this book, and if you'd like, leave a vote or a comment! Thank you so much!
There's a disturbing kind of beauty to be found in shattered glass.
It's like a magnet to me, thought I know not why. Perhaps it stems from the sharp edges,
and the way that should part of it break, it all comes crashing down.
Maybe it's the mesmerizing spiderweb of breaks that come when my fist collides with the
bathroom mirror, or the small shards that dig into my skin.
It might even be the hollow eyes I see in my reflection, reminding me of one thing.
You killed her.
She was your friend, and...
You.
Killed.
Her.
Perhaps it's the way the broken fragments remind me of my own torn and shattered mind,
or the way my heart constantly aches. Guilt on my mind works the same way as does a fist
against glass.
It tears you apart, ripping out your soul until all that are left are fragments.
Guilt is a deadly demon, the kind that tortures you until all of the blame falls on you.
And it tastes like ashes in my mouth.
 One: Of Recapping

A/N: The picture is an aesthetic for Ariadne. Enjoy the first chapter!
The world is changing.
There used to be men, and there used to be monsters.
The line between the two is blurred now.
Nearly three months ago, everything was okay. I lived in a dome in the middle of the desert,
safe within the glass walls I thought were a barrier between the wilderness and I.
Everything is different now. People are dead. I'm running. I'm still running. I wonder if I'll
ever stop.
My heavy boots thud lightly against the sand as I pace around the huge bus we're using to
travel through the desert. Somewhere in the distance, a red sun is setting, and even further,
the place I used to call home is probably settling down for the night.
Not me. Never me. I haven't earned the right to settle down.
Someone clears his throat behind me, and I turn to face my older brother, Titus. He's been
through far too much to be considered sane anymore. We both lost our mother a few short
months ago, and we're still reeling from it. His girlfriend was lost only to become the
monsters we ran from, and I'm the one who killed her not two weeks ago.
"Is it still bleeding?" he asks me, motioning towards the bandage around my right hand. I
glance down at the white gauze, seeing specks of blood across my knuckles.
"Yeah."
Maybe punching the bathroom mirror inside the bus wasn't the best idea.
"You're an idiot, you know that?" he tells me, before pulling me against him and hugging me
tightly.
"We'll be okay. In time," he tells me, and I'm tempted to scoff. People like to tell you that
time heals everything. It doesn't; it just makes you forget.
"I've survived a lot lately. I think I'll live through some chopped up knuckles," I tell him, and
he gives me a half-hearted smile that oozes with pity that I wish wasn't there. I'll take
sympathy and I'll take kindness, but pity? Never pity.
My best friend, a tall, lithe ginger named after the stars, somehow makes it behind the two
of us without either noticing.
"We're gonna eat, if you want to join," Callista offers, a dimpled smile spreading across her
pretty features. She's been through hell, too. Her boyfriend was lost early on in our journey
away from home. There's a heavy handgun at her side, a commodity that only a few months
ago we'd thought would never be so important to our survival. There are monsters now.
Not all is well.
All three of us make our way back into the bus, Titus flopping onto the couch next to Kyros.
Kyros Riddick may very well be the reason we're all out here. He showed up at the doors of
our dome nearly consumed by the disease known as the Burning, and I saved him. It cost
me my freedom and the death of friends and family, but I'd do it again if only because it was
the right thing to do. He's one of my best friends now. He gives me a grin, his dark hair
slightly longer than it used to be and sticking in every which direction.
Beside the boy I refer to as my ghost sits our resident Skywalker. The smiley blond boy was
one of the workers in our old city who used to check the glass for cracks. We might have
ended up being a thing if we had stayed there. I'm glad we didn't. He's not so glad.
We eat the weird dehydrated food in relative silence. I think they're expecting me to snap
again after the mirror incident. No such luck.
The desert outside used to be beautiful to me. Not in the way that a painting is beautiful, or
the way a dance is, or the moon, but as in the tragedy of what it used to be. There could
have been endless fields of green, rivers of icy blue... it would have been beautiful.
The desert left over now is an old, gnarled beast; cruel, miserable, taunting. It's taken too
much from me now to see it as anything even remotely good. Nothing good can come from
this place.
There's a howl in the distance, and we all look up almost completely in sync. Really?? Now?
No sound follow afterwards, however, so after almost fifteen minutes of tense silence, we
return to our silent meal. The air is heavy and tense with nervous silence. We know there's
a living mass of nightmare outside, but we also know we can't go back to either of our
domes. Not yet. Not safely.
Probably not ever.
There's a city somewhere in the distance, a haunting specter of the monster that is time.
And then there's us. Little specks of nothing in a moving metal coffin trying to fight our way
into some semblance of what we claim as normality. Part of me doubts that after all this,
we'll ever return to normal.
"You alright there, Jinx?" Mikhail asks me, and I glance up with a slightly miffed expression.
"Yeah, wonderful. Couldn't be better," I say, and Titus rolls his eyes.
"Oh, lay off him. We get it, you're pissed. We all are. Stop taking it out on him," he chides,
and I give him a glare that doesn't really follow through. Standoffs like this have been
happening far too often lately. Tensions and emotions have been skyrocketing ever since
we left the Refuge. Since Thea.
After we eat, Mikhail, Titus, and Callie head pretty much straight to bed, but neither Kyros
nor I can sleep. We linger in the living area of the bus for a bit, silent and focused on
anything but each other.
"You holding up okay?" he asks me, glancing over at me with caramel eyes that bear far too
much concern.
"A little snappy. I'm breathing, though," I say, and he gives a half-smile I can tell is forced.
His fingers dance around the teal-colored stone around his neck, a ghost of his past that
remains unknown to any of us. A lot of Kyros is a mystery to us. There are stories, and we
know who he is now, but a lot of him is still unclear. No one really knows completely what
to make of him sometimes.
"I'm glad," he assures me, eyes flicking up to meet mine for a few split seconds before
returning to his hands again.
Somewhere off in the distance is our goal through all of this mess: the cure for the disease.
A cure for the cursed Burning. We don't know if it still exists, but at some point, my father-
my real father, who I never met-had found the cure and it had worked. It had been tied to
something he referred to as Canaan, of which I still do not comprehend its meaning. All we
know is that the same thing was mentioned in the last remaining journal of a survivor from
the day the disease began. Her name was Gwen Stevens, and the coordinates we're chasing
now could be where the cure is actually located.
Of course, we could get there and find nothing. The world's been rotting in the disease for
hundreds of years, so we might be chasing the impossible.
Chasing ghosts.
At this point, we have nothing left to lose. We've all lost our families and several of our
friends to this suicide mission, so even if there is nothing there, our deaths are almost
meaningless. We've got each other and no place to go. We decided to go look for something
that might not even exist because we have nothing to lose but each other.
People are funny that way. If you take away whatever it is that they have to lose, they
become dangerous. Reckless. Fearless.
Cruel.
"How many more weeks until we get to the coastline, you think?" I ask Kyros, who lets out a
heavy sigh and looks up at the ceiling as he thinks through it.
"Hard to say. We should make it to the ruins by midday tomorrow, and we'll stop to check
for supplies or something. Then... Maybe three weeks?" he says, eyebrows raised in
pensiveness as he mulls over his answer.
"You'd think it'd be longer,"
"Yeah, but we've got an ocean to cross. Keep that in mind, Love," he says, concern trickling
across his shoulders.
"Still don't know how we're gonna get past that," he mutters, more to himself than to me.
He scratches at the tag on the back of his dark t-shirt, his left hand still fiddling with the
necklace he brought with him on our mad dash to what we thought would be safety. My
eyes grow foggy for a few seconds from exhaustion, and I shake my head quickly to clear
my vision. Ever since what happened with Thea back at the Refuge, I haven't been able to
focus on anything for too long. Not even sleep.
"Ariadne, how much sleep have you been getting?" Kyros suddenly asks me, his eyes
tracing my tired form as I slump against the seat I'm in.
"Not nearly enough," I admit, and his hand tentatively reaches out so that our knuckles
barely brush against each other.
"Thea?" he asks, his voice barely above a whisper. I give him a rueful smile, fingers
stretching out to touch his hand ever so lightly. It hurts a little bit, with the slices in the
knuckles of my right hand still bleeding a bit, but I don't particularly care.
Somehow, in the low light of the bus's ceiling, things are okay for a second. Kyros makes me
feel like that sometimes. Like I'm home. Like I'm safe. The feeling is rare enough that I tend
to try and cling to these moments for longer than they'd allow.
Things aren't okay. My guilty conscience, lack of sleep, and bloodied knuckles are living
proof of that.
But some part of me clings to the idea that they will be eventually. Time might not heal
anything, but it does pull you into new moments in life. Moments where things can be
remade. Moments where you can allow yourself the space to heal.
Somewhere in the back, there's a heavy snore I assume to come from my older brother, and
a slight smirk tugs at my tired features.
"Get some sleep," Kyros tells me, his hands retreating back to his own sides. I consider
arguing that he needs to rest, too, but he's too stubborn to give in so easily. Besides, I really
am tired, and for maybe the first time since we left the Refuge, I feel like I actually could
rest right now.
"Wake me up when you need to switch watches," I tell him, and he gives me a small smile
before I turn and head off to my own bunk.
Finding my spot under Callista's bunk, I pull the rough navy blue sheets up to my chin,
releasing a quiet sigh as I let the comfort of it envelop me.
Some small part of me wants to remind of my demons. It claws at some tiny corner of my
soul, begging to be let out and wreak havoc on whatever happiness I find.
The rest of me, for some reason, finds contentment in just breathing. One breath at a time.
One step at a time. One day at a time.
And for now, that's enough.
 Two: Buckle Up, Sweetheart

A/N: The picture is the aesthetic for Mikhail.

The morning light finds my eyes as they flutter open, meaning we'll probably start moving
soon. I roll sideways off the rough sheets and brace myself against the floor, letting out a
half-hearted yawn as I stand with a stretch. My bare feet make quiet padding sounds as I
tiptoe my way into the main area again.
Kyros is slumped against the back of the couch, mouth hanging open as he snores a little.
He fell asleep during watch. I want to be mad at him both for putting us in danger and for
not telling me how tired he was, but he looks funny and peaceful enough that I can't really
let myself believe it.
I run my fingers through my unruly hair, not really possessing the willpower to try and fix
it, and scratch at the back of my neck before taking my seat at the front of the bus. The red
sun is just barely peeking over the horizon line, meaning it's earlier than I would've
thought, so I just let out another yawn and pull my knees up to my chest.
It's almost peaceful. There's a sight northern wind whispering a song into the forgiving
sand, curling its secrets into spirals of dust. The dunes to my right almost seem to move in
waves in the distance, and even the haunting city in front of us takes on a mournful sort of
beauty.
A quiet sigh escapes my lips, and I close my eyes to wash out the memories that threaten to
spill over me again. I think that's been my new greatest skill. It rarely works, but sometimes
I can push the horrid memories away so that I manage to ignore them for a bit. After
yesterday's outburst, I've been pretty much okay. Which is weird.
Speaking of yesterday's outburst...
I glance down at the bandage around my fist, the blood beneath it forming a line across
wherever the cuts connected and speckles wherever they didn't. I should probably clean
and change that again.
The corner of the gauze is tucked tightly enough that it takes me a little longer to fish it out,
butI manage to unravel the first wrapping around my hand without incident. The line and
speckles of blood on the bandage grow wider the more I unravel it, and before long, I
manage to painfully peel it from my injured hand. The cuts are partially scabbed over,
bleeding slightly from where I pulled the bandages off a little too roughly.
Rolling up the old gauze, I toss it into the trash and sift through the storage bins overhead
as quietly as I can. The medical kit isn't too far in the back, so I manage to pull it out and sit
back down without waking anyone up.
My fingers wrap around a bottle of peroxide, which I dig out of the bag before twisting the
cap off. There's a small rag in the pack as well, so I dip it into the disinfectant and lightly
touch it to the deep gashes in my knuckles.
I let out a sharp hiss as fire-like pain spread through wherever the disinfectant comes in
contact with my blood, but clench my teeth and wipe at every single cut meticulously. The
last thing we need out in the desert is an infection.
The gauze takes me a few seconds to wrap tightly, and by then, someone is already stirring
in the back of the bus. I glance backwards and see scruffy blond hair sticky in ever which
direction of our Skywalker's head, and fight a laugh at his comical appearance. He yawns
and walks towards the front of the bus, flopping into the driver's seat beside me.
"Morning," he greets, yawning widely as he rubs at his eyes.
"Hi," I say, and his blue eyes twinkle a bit in the sunlight.
"It's kind of peaceful sometimes, isn't it?" he says, more to himself than to me. I let out a
soft hum of agreement, and turn slightly as I hear Kyros shift behind me. Mikhail follows
my gaze, and a almost sad look spreads across his face as he looks between Ky an I.
I pretend I don't see it, for fear of what conversations would follow.
There's a noise in the back of the bus as Callista practically falls from her bunk, which in
turn startles Kyros awake. He leaps to his feat with a knife in hand, vaulting over the table
and landing roughly on the floor. The entire bus shakes as he realizes what happened, but
the movement wakes up Titus in the process, who sticks his head out of his bunk and
glances around quickly.
"That's one way to get everyone up, I guess?" Mikhail tells me, and I can't help but laugh as
they all sit there and recover from... whatever it is that just happened. Kyros rubs at his
eyes and tosses the knife onto the table, giving me a sleepy smile before he returns to his
seat. Titus makes his way out of his bunk and begins scrounging for something to eat.
Callista... Callista stays on the floor. I'm not entirely sure why.
Eventually, we're all awake and fed enough to start moving again, so Kyros claims the
wheel today and continues our journey to Canaan. It only takes us about an hour to get to
the city, and we stop again for supplies and something Kyros considers to be "securing the
perimeter".
The city itself is apparently the remains of Seattle, according to Kyros' map, and actually
looks quite similar to the remains of Los Angeles, where we lost Felix. There are buildings
that are still standing and buildings that are completely crumbled, some with recently dead
vines and moss covering parts of it.
Kyros decides to stay and watch the bus, and Titus and Callista are supposed to find any
supplies they think we could use, just in case things go awry in the near future.
Mikhail and I are sent to scout the area on dirt bikes that we apparently brought with us.
Which I did not know about. Great.
"We're not letting disasters happen again. Arm yourself to the teeth, if you'd like, but make
sure that we're safe," Kyros insists, before unlocking the room in the back that holds two
freaking motorcycles.
Mikhail takes two handguns from the wall, belting one to his side and tossing me the other
one before strapping on a shoulder holster that wraps around his back. It bother me a little
how excited he's getting about this as he places a shotgun into the holster, but try to ignore
the sinking feeling in my stomach as I take the other gun that I can barely carry from Kyros.
I throw my leg over the side of the motorcycle, adrenaline and nerves becoming a deadly
mixture in my veins.
Mikhail throws back his head and laughs as he takes the second one, shotgun secured into
the holster on his back.
"You guys ready?" Callista asks, leaning casually against the doorframe as she studies our
polar opposite reactions.
"Ready as I'll ever be," I mutter, and Mikhail grins like a little kid who was just given candy.
"Buckle up, sweetheart," he teases, and I fight a grin that disappears as the door opens. The
bike zooms forward, and everything ticks in slow motion for a few seconds. The sand
whirling around the back of the bus, the roar of the engines, and then we both smack into
the earth and speed off into the distance. The cityscape feels safer upon the seat of the bike,
mostly because we could literally drive away from the Burning if needed.
The road is cracked and filled with potholes, so just driving on it is a massive hazard, but
Mikhail's excited whoops of freedom kind of lighten my anxiety a little bit. The buildings
are a little less scary when we drive through the roads as if they were usable, and even the
broken down cars littering the road are a little less haunting. The rubble on the road is
probably the only thing I can't imagine away.
Everywhere we look are snapshots of lives gone by. A car door open where a mother and
her child ran from the diseased monsters chasing her. Two cars smashed together where
two frightened people lost their lives.
The only thing that ruins it is the petrifying fear that at any given moment, a mass of
Burned people could come sprinting around the corner, ready and willing to tear us apart
for sport.
And the flashbacks. But I'm still trying to pretend that I don't have those.
We make it probably halfway through the city before Mikhail sees something and calls for
me to stop, so we both halt the motorcycles almost exactly in front of what probably used
to be an auto shop of some sort.
"If we get lucky, there might be fuel or something here. Otherwise we'll have to find
another gas station," Mikhail tells me, as he grabs an extremely worn leather handle at the
base of the metal roll-up door and yanks on it. The rusty metal groans and creaks, but
doesn't raise at all.
"Mickey, that thing's been closed year who knows how many years. It's not gonna budge," I
tell him, and he releases the handle slowly.
I decide to check the back for a door or maybe even a window. There's rubble that I
carelessly sidestep as I walk around the old brick building, and a rusty metal trashcan is
lying across the alley, but it barely makes a difference. My boots thunk against the cracked
concrete as I step over the can, and finally wrap around to the back of the building. There
are two windows on the back, but more importantly, there's a door between the two of
them. I try the lock, and although it doesn't budge, the hinges rattle uncertainly as they
cling to the cracking brick weakly.
"Mickey!" I yell, and the Skywalker comes running towards to me with his shotgun out. I
hear the clattering noises of him knocking things aside before he suddenly reaches the
clearing. With his eyes wide and breathing heavy, I realize that he probably thought I was
in some sort of trouble. He relaxes a little when he sees I'm alright, and then glances over at
the door.
"We're gonna bust the hinges," I tell him, taking the slightly lighter shotgun from his hands
and giving him my heavy assault rifle. With a grunt of effort, I smash the stock of the gun
against the bottom hinge, and it falls from the door even easier than I would've though.
Mikhail catches on and takes the gun from my hands, smashing at the top lock easier than I
would've been able to due to his height. Freaking tall people.
Either way, I have to grab his wrist and yank him backwards as the heavy metallic door
swings sideways and then clatters loudly to the floor, and I wince at the booming noise.
Well. Hey, Burning! Guess where we are!
Either way, we step into the old shop with cautious footsteps. Like a room frozen in time,
there's a thick layer of dust stirred up by our arrival. The metal sliding door Mikhail had
tried at the front proves to not have been sealed by rust. Rather, there are several metal
and wooden bars secured and welded across it, proving that whoever was in here planned
to seal themselves in permanently. Particles of dust floats leisurely across the rays of
sunlight that filter through the windows and open doorway, illuminating two cars raised up
above our heads on service stations. There are parts and tools littered everywhere, and
here and there, a few old guns are strewn about.
A sickening crack fills the air, and I look down suddenly to find its source. Dread fills my
veins as I stare in horror at the skeleton of a dead man. My breathing speeds up and
shallows suddenly, my throat feeling like it's trying to implode, and my wide eyes shoot up
to meet Mikhail's.
"Creepy," he says, reaching down and poking at the skeleton. It falls and clatters all over the
floor, and my fear subsides long enough for me to slap Mikhail's arm.
"Why?" I ask him, my tone dripping with sarcasm. He doesn't answer, merely grinning
widely as he continues to look around the garage. He tosses some random items into his
backpack; a cartridge of still-usable ammo, a wrench, a bottle with who knows what in it...
anything remotely useful.
I, on the other hand, decide that this place is too eerily mysterious not to check out further,
so I keep walking further into the shop. There are empty cans and all sorts of trash littered
everywhere, probably from the food stash these people used to have in here. Whether they
locked themselves up to avoid the Burning or the bombs is unclear, but one thing still
remains: whatever was out there was enough to drive them into hiding.
"Hey look! There's actually a gas can pac here," Mikhail tells me, reaching to pick it up.
Seconds later, he lets out a groan and drops it to the floor.
"Empty. We're going to have to look for a station again," he tells me. I nod apprehensively,
taking one last look at the ghost-like shop before heading outside again.
Onwards, I guess.
 Three: Of Unwanted Conversations

A/N: I'm so sorry! I've been dancing around posting this chapter for far too long.
Hope you all had a great Christmas and New Years! Here's the aesthetic for Callista.
The streets of deserted Seattle are actually quite pretty in the midday light, the sun dancing
off of the ruins in a mysteriously elegant way. I think the beauty of it is what distracts me
from the fact of where Mikhail's leading until we actually get there.
A tall spire is standing in front of us, reaching at the heavens with the metal-and-glass it's
made of.
"What..." I start, but sort of trail off at the sight of it. It's incredible enough to take my breath
away.
"I ended up reading about Seattle at the Chronicler's place back at the Refuge. This thing
used to be called the space needle. Now, if we're lucky, the elevator will still work, and we
can get all the way to the top and maybe even see far enough to find our gas station," the
Skywalker tells me, and I just look over at him in wide-eyed wonder.
"This is incredible!" I breathe, mesmerized by the massive structure before us.
"You think it'll work?" I ask him, and Mikhail shrugs nonchalantly.
"Let's find out, shall we?"
Turns out we get lucky. The elevator works, albeit very slowly, and despite the nagging
voice that tells me we could get stuck in a metal coffin, I get in and Mikhail and I rise up into
the top of the Needle.
What used to be the observation deck is actually still quite pretty. The glass in some places
is shattered, but in others, it's still intact. Either way, you can still see as far as your eyes
will let you. Not that there's much to see; there's a few scattered ruins, but mostly desert.
It's always desert, isn't it? It's never-ending.
The Skywalker points out a gas station in the distance on what probably used to be the
outskirts of the city, so that solves our previous problem. We linger on the balcony for a bit
longer, silence looming above us as we drink in the sights below.
"So I was wondering," Mikhail starts, his voice sounding nervous and unsteady, a stark
contrast to his usual decisiveness. I clutch the railing a little tighter, dreading what he's
going to say next.
Please don't bring up our last conversation, I beg, the awkwardness washing over me like a
tidal wave.
"Last time we talked," Crap cakes. "I know it was... messy... but maybe we can talk about it
again?" he asks, turning to look at me a little bit. He drags his teeth against the corner of his
lip nervously, and I kind of freeze up.
This is not good. Part of me wants to lash out, to scream that I can't handle anything more
than I'm already dealing with, but the other part hesitates. For a few split seconds, I see him
as the cheeky Skywalker I had nearly felt for back at the dome we left a while ago.
But this is not the dome, and we're not the same people we were back then. We aren't kids
anymore; those kids died in the desert long ago. We are shells of the people we were. We
have tired bones haunted by lonely ghosts that remind us of our loneliness and our sins.
There is no room for anything else until we rest our hearts.
But what then? What if we make it to Canaan, and everything gains a sense of normalcy?
Then what?
I decide to wait and see.
Then the angry part of me sort of snaps and I'm suddenly flooded with distaste. You don't
deserve to talk about it again. I told you no once, I shouldn't have to tell you again if you
really want to keep me around.
"Mikhail. I'm only going to explain this one more time: no. The Ariadne Simon who nearly
liked you died with her mother in the dome! She died with Felix and the Burning, and she
died with Thea... twice! You can't keep pushing me! I..."
"Because of Kyros?" he interrupts, his gaze frozen into a steely mask of contempt. I'm so
shocked at his reaction that I merely freeze and stare at him, eyes wide in surprise.
"What?!" I manage to splutter, hands waving frantically as I snap for real. "No! My life
doesn't revolve around relationships, Mikhail! I'm struggling to keep breathing every
morning, and... and you're accusing me of turning you down because of Kyros! He's my
friend, Mikhail, but so are you! I don't... how could you even say that?!" I say, and he steps
back a little to avoid my waving arms and loud screaming. His face is carved out of stone,
unmoving and cold as ice.
"Yeah? Then tell me to my face that you feel nothing for him," he spits, arms folded across
his chest in what I can't tell is a threat or a defense. I freeze again for what feels like a
lifetime, and only come to again when Mikhail lets out a tiny scoff. His arms unfold and
drop to his sides, his shoulders sagging a little as if he carried the weight of the world on his
shoulders. I almost spit out a resounding no, but the memories of the butterflies that
fluttered through my veins at his touch come crashing down. I can't lie to Mikhail. I can't lie
to myself.
"I can't," I say, unable to meet the Skywalker's steely ocean eyes. He lets out a defeated sigh,
but I don't let him start the sentence on the edge of his lips.
"But had Kyros asked me to do the same, I couldn't deny that I once felt something for you,
too," I say, and he looks up to meet my gaze. There's a flutter of hope there that for some
reason angers me.
"It's a lot more complicated than anything you can see, Mikhail. Nothing is the same. I can't
trust myself even around Callie and Titus, who I've known my whole life. I'm not worth any
of your attention for now, neither do I want it. Do I like you? Not anymore. But somewhere
between my anger at you are the emotions I had back at the dome. Do I like Kyros? I want
to say I don't, but that's not true. Are those feelings important right now? Far from it," I say,
stopping for a little if only to gauge his reaction. He's not pleased; that's for sure.
"Give me space, Mikhail. I'm not capable of anything but survival right now. I don't know if I
ever will be again. If you keep pushing me, I'll slip away for good. What you're doing is
petty. You need to stop. If you don't, you'll lose that little fragment of me that you have left.
I've lost too much to gain anything for now," I say, finishing my rant with my lungs heaving
in exertion.
Do I like Mikhail? No. But I used to, if only a little bit. And he deserves to know.
Do I like Kyros? Maybe. A little bit. But I haven't had the time or capacity to process
anything lately, so maybe I don't.
Either way, there a lot more important things in life to deal with for now. Like, oh, I don't
know... survival? Overcoming crippling guilt and fear? Supporting my brother?
Not punching the bathroom mirror again?
I let out a weak sigh and brush my fingers over the bandage wrapped around my hand, and
turn to face the outlook again. Mikhail's expression of stone-cold seriousness falters for a
bit and a flicker of hurt flashes through his gaze, but he quickly fixes his demeanor before
leaning over the balcony himself. I lose count of the minutes that tick by, nothing said
between the two of us.
"Hey. What's that?" the Skywalker suddenly asks me, poking at my shoulder before
pointing at the streets below. I follow his pointing finger and nearly keel over off of the
balcony. There's a group of five people that I can see beneath us, with guns clutched in their
hands.
My first reaction is to freeze up with panic. The Burning. They've found us again.
But upon closer inspection, their clothes aren't at all tattered or sun-bleached. They're
made of clean fabric tinted in dark browns and blacks that cover their entire bodies. And
some of them have skin that is far from the sickly grey-white that characterizes the Sear.
"They're not Burning," Mikhail breathes, and I nod in agreement.
"Who are they?" I ask, more to myself than to him.
"How am I supposed to know?" he says, glancing over at me in a bout of frustration that I
don't take too kindly to. Neither of us says anything for the next few seconds, merely
watching the people in a frozen blend of confusion and horror.
Suddenly, with a whooshing noise we can hear even from the top of the tower, there's a
bright blue flash of something lightning-like that envelops each individual figure, and the
five people suddenly vanish with the light.
I gasp and take an involuntary step back, as Mikhail stares at the now empty ground like
he's seen a ghost.
"What... I don't..." I say, unable to form a proper sentence in my panic. They disappeared.
Vanished into thin air. That should be impossible.
Should be. A lot of things should be impossible.
"We need to tell the others," Mikhail tells me, but his voice sounds distant and echo-y to my
panicking head. With my knuckles clenched, I squeeze my eyes shut for a few seconds
before opening them again and forcing a nod.
"Yeah," I manage, despite my tightening throat and clenched fists. Mikhail's eyes bleed
concern, but after a split second of hesitation, he motions for me follow him away from the
edge of the balcony.
I can hear my heart pounding in my ears, and the shaky gasps of air I struggle to inhale, but
I keep moving anyway. My vision loses focus every so often, but I can't stop running.
Who were those people?! What were they doing?! And above all, how did they disappear
like that?!
By the time we sprint out of the Space Needle, my mind is so paralyzed that I actually don't
remember much of the ride back to the bus. It all kind of blurs together into a mess of
colors and ruins.
The bus is still parked exactly where we left it, so I slam my hand onto the brakes and
nearly skid to a stop. Titus comes bursting out of the bus, worry written on his features as
he sees my reckless stopping skills.
"Ari!" he yells out, and I nearly collapse into his arms as soon as I'm off the dirt bike. I pull
away and clutch at my brother's broad shoulders with trembling hands.
"There were people. Not Burning; normal people. And they disappeared into thin air," I
manage to spit out, and Titus' eyes ooze concern. Probably for my sanity. He sends a wary
glare over my shoulder to Mikhail, who merely nods once with steely certainty.
"I saw it too," he tells Titus, and I see my brother's face shift from worry to fear.
"What were they like?" he asks me, confusion and terror tracing along his face. I open my
mouth to speak but am ever so rudely interrupted (read:saved) by Callista and Kyros
bursting out of the bus. Callie doesn't even question anything, merely pulling me against
her and hugging me as tightly as possible.
"I don't care what happened, but you look like you've looked death in the face," she
mutters, before releasing me and looking me over quickly.
I expect them to talk to me. I expect them to try and pry information out of my panicking
head. They don't.
They ask Mikhail questions, but they leave me alone. I couldn't thank them enough. Callie
merely sits with me on the seats in the bus as I sit and let myself stew in the horrors that I
just can't seem to escape from.
Part of me starts to claim that this is my fault. None of us would be here if it wasn't for my
stupidity.
But if I keep throwing pity parties, things aren't going to get any better.
So I stick my chin up a little bit higher as we proceed into the desert, hoping that I can leave
my demons in Seattle.
As if the desert would ever be that kind.
 Four: To Look Upon Ruin

A/N: Aesthetic for Titus.

I dream that night.
What does it mean to look upon ruin? A voice asks, sounding sad and lonely. Everything is
dark, and then suddenly, with a flash of light...
Clothed in a flowing white dress and barefoot, I find myself kneeling on the crest of a
mountain of sand in the middle of the desert. I can feel the grainy sand between my toes as
I push the tops of my feet against it. I can see both our domes, my home to my left and the
Refuge to the right. Between the two are the ruins of cities; crumbling, falling, as if I'm
watching the day where they fell apart.
The sun burns against my back, but it doesn't hurt. It's warm, and somewhat calming, and
it's peaceful.
There's suddenly a cry from the base of the huge sandy hill, and I see a hand reaching out
from the dusty depths. A chill runs up my spine, and I find, to my horror, that I can't move
towards the hand to save it. There are shackles on my ankles and wrists now, and no
matter how much I tug against them, the only thing I can do is scream for help. I pull and
yank against the chains until my skin bruises and stings, but to no avail.
There's suddenly a sticky warmth that trickles down my arms, spilling from my shoulder
blades, and I realize too late that it's blood that spills down my arms and over my hands.
My heart nearly stops in terror and fear.
It tastes like oak and the songs of lost children. It tastes like pain and the blood of the weary. It
tastes like the ash of destruction and ruin. The stars know what it means to suddenly become.
You do not.
I can't tell if the voice is my own or someone else's, but its tone is somber and foreboding.
Like the prediction of some hidden evil.
As if on cue, the owner of the arm far below tears free of the dust for a few seconds, and I
can see his face.
Felix.
He lets out a bloodcurdling scream right before his entire being bursts into flames.
And I can feel my heart in my throat.
Others rise from the dust; Thea, the Riddicks, many faceless Burning people.
They all burn. They all burn and I am powerless.
I scream at the sun until I taste the coppery bitter of blood in my mouth, but they burn
nonetheless.
Close your eyes and make a wish, the voice instructs, and I do just that. I close my eyes and
wish for peace, for life, for the destruction to stop, for water, for green fields of grass, for no
more dust and no more ashes.
When I open my eyes, there's no more blood running along my arms, no more burning,
dying people, no more shackles, no more sand.
I'm kneeling in a forest, and my unconscious brain can't imagine what the grass beneath me
actually feels like.
My heart is full.
Callista is with me, a smile on her face like I haven't seen in months. Titus holds one of my
hands in his, his hands strong and his eyes void of all pain and anger.
Kyros is kneeling right in front of me, his face a vision of peace so different from the boy I
know that it takes me a few seconds to realize it's really him. The boy I know is a stormy
ocean, heart torn asunder by every passing wave. Here, he is the sunrise over a calm sea,
raindrops sticking to his eyelashes and the smell of saltwater drifting off of him.
Felix wanders behind him, tumbling joyfully around the grass like a bunny, a stupid grin
smeared over his face.
There are faces I don't know, either, but they look at me like I'm some kind of savior. A girl
with chestnut hair and eyes the color of the earth after the spring rains. A boy with dark
blond locks of hair and green eyes like the grass beneath us. Another girl with blonde curls
and chocolate eyes with a smile that could grow flowers.
I blink for a second, and it's all gone. I'm back in the desert, but alone this time. No
mountain, no screaming, no cities, no fire, no grass, no sun, no people... nothing.
There's a song hidden in your quiet mouth somewhere. You'll find it someday, the voice tells
me, and I wake with a start.
Kyros is looking at me with concern, kneeling next to my bunk, and I have to look around
for a few seconds before I really adjust to my surroundings.
I'm in the bus. We're not safe. We're in the desert. No one else has died, but we're not safe
yet.
"You alright?" my ghost asks me, and I nod slowly.
"What time is it?" I ask, my voice heavy from restless sleep.
"Really early in the morning. You started yelling at one point and then you just kept on
muttering things," he tells me, his mouth drawn into a tight-lipped frown that causes his
eyebrows to furrow. I rub my face to try and clear away the blurriness from my eyes, and
though it doesn't fix my sleepiness, it does make it a little bit better.
"Did we get much further up?" I ask him, and he shrugs casually.
"We're on track. Nothing more, nothing less," he informs me, a small grin tugging at the
corners of his mouth.
"That's good," I say, and he shrugs.
"Until we reach the ocean," he says, letting a rough sigh.
"You're really worried about that, aren't you?" I ask him, shifting off of my bunk and onto
the ground. With my back against the wall and his on the opposite one, our knees are not
even an inch apart, knocking against each other every so often.
"You aren't?" he questions, and I give him a half-hearted shrug.
"Somehow, I haven't been able to think about it that much," I say, quietly enough so that the
conversation lulls for a few seconds. The quiet isn't awkward, like when no one really
knows what to say, or tense like when someone is angry.
There's a noise from the back of the bus, and I immediately slap my hands to the floor to be
able to stand quickly. A grin breaks across my ghost's face as I stare wide-eyed at the back.
"Titus is out there. He wanted to check out the weapons and stuff," he informs me, and I
nod slowly in acknowledgement as I calm down a little.
Not for long though.
Titus suddenly bursts through the door, eyes wide and panicky as he crashes through the
bus. He wakes Callista with his loud stomping, and Mikhail wakes from his spot on the
couch with a yell.
"Burning!" Titus yells, not stopping to gauge our reactions before sprinting to the back
room again.
I glance over at Kyros in horror, but his face is turned into a steely mask of focus.
"Get Callie and Mikhail ready," he tells me, leaping to his feet and taking off after Titus.
"Mickey!" I yell, and the blond Skywalker nods solemnly. "Start driving,"
Callie manages to not roll off of the bed this time, landing on her feet and pulling a gun from
under her pillow. For a moment it scares me a little, but the one I reach for under my
mattress isn't all that different.
We've all become steely messes of nerves and fear that live in constant terror of the world
we now live in.
The bus lurches forward as Mikhail slams his foot onto the gas, and not even a few seconds
later, the air fills with the sound of gunfire.
"Ari! Head to the back! I'll stay with Mickey!" Callie yells, and I barely have time to think
about it before my legs start moving.
I can hear my heartbeat echoing in my ears as if there are war drums in my head, and my
body moves almost on its own accord. That detached feeling that I used to get when I
worked in the hospital with my mother returns, and this time, I embrace it.
I push through the door, and immediately am overwhelmed by buzzing noises. They're
opened the back of the bus and are shooting wildly into the sick people chasing us. Titus is
holding a massive gun that fires round after round into the mass of Burning people that
tails us. It's hardly effective; the frontrunners have a sort of metal-and-glass shield that
connect with each other and block several of Titus' bullets.
Dust swirls through the air, making it difficult to breath as the gritty sand chokes my lungs.
The crews of people we'd met before are nothing compared to this. This crowd is only a
little bit smaller than the group who chased us in Los Angeles, but far more armed. A lot of
them are ceasing their mad dash as they realize the bus is speeding up, and I let out a sigh
of relief. It barely escapes my lips when a group of about ten or fifteen armored Burning
people enter my field of vision, rusty motorbikes carrying them towards us at alarming
speeds.
"Kyros?!" I yell, and he glances back at me with bloodlust in his eyes.
"Sniper," is all he says, nodding towards the gun on top of one of the weapons chests
against the back wall.
Without thinking twice, I take hold of the weapon and land on my stomach, propping the
gun up and looking through the sights.
The bus shakes and rattles repeatedly, making it extremely difficult to aim well. Or maybe
that's my hands that are shaking. Everything is kind of blurring together.
I raise my head from the scope for only a few seconds before the bus lurches sideways
violently, sending all three of us hurtling into the opposite wall. My back slams against it
and for a few seconds the wind whooshes out of my lungs.
This can't be happening. We have to fight. We have to make it. I need to get up.
"Find out what happened!" Kyros yells from he knees, and I suck in a breath and force
myself to stand on shaky ground. This is not the time to panic. This is not the time to show
weakness. This is not the time to hide.
I yank the door open and run to the front, and see what caused the massive turn Mikhail
somehow managed to pull off.
"They're boxing us in," Mikhail grunts, motioning towards the gunners he had just barely
managed to avoid. Callista lets out a string of curses as Mikhail turns sharply again, and my
grip on the back of Callie's seat is the only thing that stops me from hurtling to the other
side of the bus.
"I'll try to go around them," the Skywalker tells me, and I nod once before running back to
Titus and Kyros.
"We're wasting bullets. This is their territory; they'll chase us out," Titus tells me, and I nod
once before picking up one of the guns that I barely know how to use.
It wasn't supposed to be like this. We'd gotten lucky this far; the few Burning that we'd
spotted hadn't really given chase to us before.
"They've got gunners up front! Mikhail's trying to go around!" I yell, and Kyros merely nods
without meeting my eyes. He wordlessly bursts past me and takes off into the front of the
bus, leaving Titus and I alone in the back of the vehicle with an open door and an army of
people who want to kill us.
"To the death," Titus tells me, giving me a somber grin and a wink as he turns and opens
fire once again.
I reach for a weapon myself, but as soon as I start aiming, I can't make myself pull the
trigger.
A familiar head of brunette hair appears into my field of vision, a wicked grin stretched
across his face. His clothes are tattered and even bloodstained in certain places, and despite
his increasing speed due to the messed-up dirt bike he's riding, his grin remains fixed in
place.
Titus sees him, too, lowering the weapon in his hands in silent horror.
Felix.
He speeds up and comes closer. Closer. Closer.
He's not ten feet away when a taunting yell escapes his mouth.
"Did you miss me?" he sneers, the dust swirling around us.
No. Not again. I'm not letting anything happen this time. I'll get him back to us, even if it
kills me.
With a scream that blends together horror and sorrow, I sprint towards the open back of
the bus.
And I don't stop running.
For a few seconds, I'm suspended in the air, kicking at the wind as my boots leave the solid
surface of the bus.
I can barely hear Titus screaming my name over the sound of the whooshing wind and
roaring engines.
This is what it means to look upon ruin.
Then I collide with Felix, and we both slam into the sandy earth.
 Five: Felix, Part II

A/N: Aesthetic for Felix.

The impact of my body against the earth is broken only slightly by Felix, and with a yelp,
my shoulder slams against the dust.
Except I don't stop tumbling.
By the time I stop crashing against the earth, I must've bruised every single piece of my
body, and there's a few skinned elbows and knees between Felix and I.
The crowd of Burning that was after the bus haven't given up their chase on our bus,
leaving Felix and I nearly alone in our area of the desert.
He stands up slowly, rolling his shoulders quickly and allowing a terrifying grin to spread
across his face.
He's a shell of what he used to be. Where Felix was constantly wearing a mischievous grin,
the smirk he now bears holds a much more sinister look to it. His hair is unruly and scruffy-
looking, as if he hasn't cared for it in weeks. Amber eyes are now silver, and where my Felix
used to be scrawny, the Burned version of himself looks like he could snap my neck with a
single movement.
"This is new. Since when does Ariadne Simon throw herself into the fray of a battle?" he
chuckles, his silvery eyes glinting with a flicker of something evil.
"Since we lost you," I manage to spit, rising to my feet despite the sharp pain it sends
though my ankle. I try to ignore the dull ache in my shoulder, which isn't all that hard to do
when you're staring into the eyes of the boy that used to be so kind.
Something flickers in his eyes; if I didn't know better, I'd say it was wild, blood-freezing
terror.
Seconds later, it flutters away. Literally. His head kind of twitches sideways twice, as if he's
shaking off a ghost.
He slowly pulls the knife from its place at his side, a sardonic grin replacing his previous
look of fear.
"Well. Isn't that a pity?" he sneers, and I let out a mirthless laugh. Despite the terror in my
veins, my shaking hands, and the fact that I can hear my heartbeat in my ears, I'm not going
to lose Felix too. Not like I lost Thea.
"Yeah. I guess it is," I say, and I barely have time to duck as the knife in his hands suddenly
lunges for my neck.
There's a loud whoosh as he barely misses what could have been a fatal blow, and he lets
out a choked laugh as I take a leap backwards.
"I'm not going to fight you," I tell him, but he merely looks at me with an arrogant sort of
glee.
"That makes one of us," he says, and twirls the weapon in his hands ominously.
The funny thing about fights is how quickly things happen. You'd think, after reading so
many stories and seeing all the movies, that time magically slows down and that you act
almost on instinct, fueled purely by adrenaline.
It's not quite true. Adrenaline is great at first, but it makes you reckless and tires you out so
ridiculously fast. Maybe Kyros and Titus act on instinct and manage to stay calm, but I can
do neither.
And things move like time has actually sped up.
In the split second it takes me to glance backwards and see the bus approaching, Felix is
attacking again, rusty knife slicing through the air with terrifying speed. I try to dodge his
attack again, but the knife still tears through the sleeve of my shirt and leaves a nasty cut on
my arm.
I let out a yelp without really meaning to, but don't have much more time to stress about it.
Mostly because the knife barely misses my stomach a few seconds later.
Okay, Ari, come on! Think! What has Kyros taught you?!
Catch his wrist.
So that's what I do. The next time that Felix's blade comes calling, I sidestep and catch the
wrist of burn-like skin that holds it.
He looks up in a little bit of surprise. Wether it's because it was unexpected or because the
bus is suddenly barreling towards us, Felix freezes for a few seconds, giving me a nearly
microscopic window of time to work with.
I can't fight Felix physically, since he's a lot stronger than I am, but I can avoid him until my
brother gets here.
I drive my knee up against his wrist, and with a yelp, he drops the knife onto the ground.
With a grunt of effort, I barely have the time to kick the knife away before Felix lets out an
angry yell and wraps his arm around my throat.
I try to struggle against his grip, but it only take a few seconds for specks of black to sneak
into my vision.
This can't be how I die. I had expected a thousand things-dehydration, wounds, the
Burning, bleeding out, diseases... but never this. Never being choked to death by my
childhood best friend.
The air suddenly fills with screaming as my brother leaps from the back of the bus.
"Don't shoot," I croak, barely able to speak. Felix turns and uses me as a shield, his hold
around my throat lessening slightly. I suck in two huge gulps of air before his grip tightens
again, and I'm clawing at his arms.
"Let her go, Felix," Titus grows, gun aimed at his head.
"Titus! Don't shoot him!" I scream, my voice ripping though my throat as a hoarse and
choked whisper. The specks of black start to grow, and Felix lets out a sinister chuckle.
"Why should I? What have we got to lose, pretty boy?" he sneers, and before I can fully
register what's happening, both Felix and I are hurtling towards the ground.
Kyros.
I scramble away from Felix's grasp, just as Kyros' fist collides with the Burned boy's face.
But it doesn't stop.
There's blood that sprinkles through the air, staining Felix's face and Kyros' hands, but he
doesn't stop.
Through the ringing in my ears, I can hear myself screaming for him to stop, and Titus
yelling that we need to run, but it all sounds like white noise.
Felix is alive. We don't have to kill him.
The crowd of Burning that we had previously left behind sprints over the crest of the dune
about 50 feet away, and Titus's pleas increase in volume.
Kyros looks up with bloodlust in his eyes, teeth bared as he bodily heaves Felix to his feet.
"Bring him with us, let's just go!" Titus yells, before he picks me up and sprints into the bus.
Kyros drags Felix in with us, and Callista slams the button to close the back of the bus.
"Mickey! Drive!" Titus booms, cradling my weakened body against him.
"Felix..." I start, forcing myself to try and stand. Everything spins and I collapse against my
brother again, who shushes me quickly.
"Shhh... you're okay. Just relax," he says, and I kind of just let myself rest a bit. I'm okay. We
can get away from the Burning. We've got Felix with us again.
Kyros finishes tying Burned Felix's wrists and feet, and then glances at his bloody knuckles.
For a few seconds he glances at me, but then he and Titus exchange a look, and he glances
away. He looks furious, but merely flicks his hands quickly and storms off to the bathroom.
As for Callie?
My ginger is staring at Felix with the most confusing blend of emotions I've ever seen on
her face before. Fear, confusion, love, anger, shock... it's all there. She sucks in a sharp
breath and takes a few cautions steps towards nearly-unconscious Felix.
"Felix?" she questions, her shaky voice barely above a whisper.
I had thought my heart broke when I saw Felix. I had thought it broke when Callie was
looking at him a few seconds ago. No.
It breaks when she sinks to her knees in a mess of sobs, unwilling to go any closer to the
monster that used to be the boy she was in love with.
"Please, tell me you're still in there somewhere," she begs, and not-Felix raises his head
slightly.
His eyes flicker from malicious to gentle, and he slowly looks over her.
"Callie," he chokes, his voice infinitely kinder than before but still sounding like the
Burning.
Something's come over him. Is it possible that our Felix is pushing through the Burned
monster that's consumed him?
His hands, though tightly bound, reach forward slightly to ever so slightly brush against his
girlfriend's cheekbone. He leaves behind a trail of dust and blood, but neither of them seem
to care.
They both kind of stand there, transfixed by each other.
"Is that you?" she chokes, a hopeful grin tugging at the corner of her mouth. Felix lets out a
watery laugh as a single tear trickles down his cheek. He open his mouth to speak when his
eyes suddenly widen and his hand yanks backwards. With a booming yell, he clutches at his
head, and Callista scrambles backwards with a shriek.
"No!" Felix yells, and suddenly stops writhing about.
What the heck is happening?!
Felix suddenly leans forward a little bit, his hands outstretched towards Callista with
brokenness in his eyes and fear in his voice.
"Listen, listen. Kyros beat the life out of... him... for a few seconds, but he's coming back now.
Listen. Callie, I love you. I love you," he chokes, and then his head twitches sideways quickly
and his hands snap back towards his head.
With a loud yell, he falls backwards again, and a roar of anger escapes his lips. Callista is
sobbing now, one hand wrapped around her middle and the other holding onto the wall.
"Callie, take Ari and get out of here," Titus instructs, his voice calm but commanding. Felix
suddenly lets out a cackle, glaring at Callie as if he could tear her apart.
"He loves you. Pity I can't say the same," not-Felix laughs, and Callie stares at him with fear-
filled eyes before she turns and leave the room as quickly as she can.
"Ari, you too," Titus says, helping me stand and guiding me towards the door.
For some reason, I don't move right away. I've regained enough of my strength to make it
out, but I don't want to.
Felix is a shell of who he used to be, and as much as it terrifies me, it fascinates me too.
Does this mean that maybe we can bring our friend to who he was?
Titus repeats his command, a little more forcefully this time, and I listen this time.
Shell-shocked, I stumble into the main area of the bus, and curl up next to Callie on the
couch.
She doesn't say anything, merely staring at the wall blankly as her hands tap against the
table, brimming with nervous energy.
Mikhail glances back over at us with concern, but keeps on driving. We've apparently
gotten away from the Burning now. I don't know if a bunch of traumatized teenagers could
handle round two of whatever just happened.
Kyros is sitting next to Mikhail, stony faced as he scans the desert for danger. Something's
up with him. I intend to find out what later today. As soon as we're all... more sane.
Callie hasn't stopped trembling, so I just pull her against me and hug her tightly as she
cries.
"I don't know what to feel," she chokes, and I nearly start crying with her.
"None of us do," I say, and she nods.
"I think it was really him for a minute there. Ari, it was him!" she says, her voice nearly
hysterical.
"But he's a monster now!" she finishes, pulling away from me to look me in the eyes. Her
emerald eyes are circled by red, raw skin caused by her tears, and there's still a fading line
of blood and dust where he touched her.
"Shhh. I know, I know. I'm so, so sorry, Callie," I say, unable to keep my voice steady as I
watch my best friend break down in front of me. She cries and cries until she can't
anymore, merely leaning back weakly against the couch. It's like the life has been sucked
out of her.
The sun sets without any other Burning encounters, and Titus only enters the main area
once to tell us he's planning on keeping watch over Felix for as long as he can bear.
My brother's sacrificial side is always the most prevalent in times like this. With Mikhail
and I being close friends of Felix, and the ones who were there when we lost him, we'd be
overcome with guilt if we had to stick around him. Callista obviously can't be the one to
watch him, and I think all of us are a little scared that Kyros will kill him.
The agreement that we would bring Felix with us to Canaan is unspoken, but we all seem to
agree that we're bringing him with us.
Callie and I stay seated on the couch in silence for who knows how long, my legs crossed
over hers as we merely stew in our thoughts.
"Do you think we can bring him back?" she asks suddenly, asking the question that we're all
thinking of. Our eyes meet, but neither says a thing.
"I want to think so,"
I don't know what else to tell her. None of us really know what just happened there. None
of us really want to know. Callie still loves Felix, and Felix, or at least whatever remains of
him, loves Callista. My heart breaks for them. They were always the ones who were
destined for a happy ending, yet here we are.
I realize then that I hate love. Love is unwanted confrontations, love is unwanted sacrifice,
love is unwanted attention. Love was my parents, love was Titus and Thea, love is Callista
and Felix, love is Mikhail's affection. Love is loss, love is pain, and love is heartbreak.
If that is love, then I want no part of it.
 Six: Starlight

A/N: *loud screaming*

Also the Kyros aesthetic is finally here!
It's late at night when I realize that I won't be sleeping tonight.
Callista only fell asleep a few seconds ago, tears dripping slowly onto her pillowcase with
anguish clear even on her expressionless face.
Mikhail was the first one to fall asleep. How he manages to keep calm throughout all of this
is beyond me.
Titus is still watching Felix. I think part of him wants to watch our friend only because it
might shed some light on Thea.
Kyros hasn't spoken to me since before I got back on the bus, but left his bunk about an
hour ago and went onto the roof.
I decide that maybe I'll join him.
The floor of the bus is oddly cold against the bottoms of my bare feet, but I ignore it as I
patter down the bus as quietly as possible.
The desert outside is terrifyingly quiet, with a chilly southern wind blowing across my face.
I suck in a sharp breath and pull my jacket closer to my body, making my way up to the
roof.
The starlight dances across the darkened desert, and I can barely see my ghost's silhouette
sitting on the edge.
Wordlessly, I make my way to his side and sit down, and he merely glances over at me with
a look I can't read in the dark, before turning back to the distance. It only takes a few
minutes for my eyes to adjust to the darkness, and before long I can see the expression on
my ghost's face. He looks troubled, as if he watched one of us die.
The wind whistles a little bit as it stirs up the ground, and Kyros lets out a heavy breath
before glancing over at my bandaged arm.
"How you holding up?" he questions, his voice sounding heavy and tired. His hand raises a
little, and then drops back onto his lap.
"I'm breathing," is the only explanation that I can think of. It's not a lie. It's my plan for life
right now.
"I didn't check on you before. I should've done more. I should have helped you..."
I wave my hand to silence him.
"It was my fault for being stupid. It's okay," I say, and he looks up as if he's contemplating
whether or not he should say what's on his mind.
"It's not though," he says, and glances over at me with dread dancing across his face. The
questioning look on my face urges him to continue, and he lets out a little scoff.
"I can't lose you, too," he tells me, his hand reaching out tentatively to take hold of mine. I'm
always kind of afraid of these moments, whether it's because of what I feel or because
emotion is so out of character for Kyros. Either way, my pulse quickens and my breath
catches a little bit in my throat.
"Yes you can. You're stronger than any of us are. If anyone should make it to Canaan, it'd be
you," I tell him, and the look on his eyes changes from fear to a slightly miffed expression. I
squeeze his hand lightly in both of mine, and he lets out another sigh.
"I'd argue with you, but I'm pretty sure I'd lose," he says, his expression sliding to
amusement a few seconds later. I let out a quiet laugh, and he pulls his hand back to his lap
as it he just realized what he was doing. Minutes tick by in silence.
"Do you ever wonder what would happen if you hadn't saved me?" he asks suddenly, and I
hold my breath without even realizing. I hesitate, but I know what my answer is. I just don't
know if I'm ready to talk about it.
"All the time. But I don't regret it," I say, my voice emerging resolute and certain. He looks
at me like he's waiting for me to continue.
"I could have let you die. Then Mom would still be here, Felix would be okay, and Thea
wouldn't be dead. We would never have become the messed up people we are now," I say,
and he raises an eyebrow.
"Maybe you should've left me there, then," he says, and I shake my head as I chew on my
bottom lip.
"But then I would never have met you. And I'd have let one of my favorite people in the
world die without ever getting to know him," I say, and I mean every word of it. Kyros is
one of my best friends, and the thought of letting him die is almost too much to think about.
He looks at me like I'm some kind of unicorn as a smile cracks across his face.
"Ariadne Simon, you're a mess. But I think we all are, so it's okay," he tells, and I laugh. I
laugh both because some of us don't deserve to be and some of us do.
"There was something my father used to say-not Mr. Riddick, but my blood father..." he
starts, but I interrupt him.
"Wait... does this mean your last name isn't really Riddick?" I tease, and he hesitates. I feel
my jaw drop. No freaking way.
"You're kidding," I say, and he shrugs.
"By the books, I'm Ashton Kyros Bancroft," he tells me, a sheepish grin sliding across his
tired features.
"This is a joke. You got any more last names you want to clear up?" I ask, laughter staining
my words.
"No, that's it. I just... since what happened at the Refuge, I don't know if I can handle having
their name. I mean, it's my fault that they died," he says, a hint of despair creeping into his
tone. Without thinking twice, I place my hand on his shoulder and look him in the eye.
"Hey, listen to me. This is in no way your fault. Don't you ever say that again," I say, and he
looks at me as if he's starting to believe it for the first time. We return to silence again,
before I remember I interrupted him earlier.
"What were you gonna say?" I ask, and he hesitates, looking confused.
"I think I forgot," he says, with a quiet kind of laugh.
There's a noise behind us, and suddenly Callista is sitting next to me. With a heavy sigh, she
releases a breath and leans her head on my shoulder.
"How're you holding up?" I ask, and she lets out a scoff.
"Peachy," she says, and both Kyros and I laugh a little at her response.
"Couldn't sleep?" I question, and Callie lets out a soft hum of agreement as she closes her
eyes. I rest my head on top of hers, relaxing a little bit in the company of two of my best
friends.
I glance up at the heavens and trace the patterns forged from starlight. It looks like peace. It
looks like life. It looks like hope; like light.
"The stars know what it means to suddenly become," I mutter under my breath, my words
echoing the dream I'd had a last night, and Callie glances at me curiously.
"What?" she questions, and Kyros also looks at me like I've grown a second head.
"Nothing. It was just a dream," I say, attempting to brush them off. Callie lets the matter go,
but Kyros keeps on looking at me for a few more seconds. Concern. That's what it is. He
thinks I might be losing my mind.
He's not wrong.
"Ari, do you remember when we first started working after we got out of school?" Callie
asks, and I nod.
"Yeah. Why?" "It feels like ages ago. It's only been two years now," she says, and I just kind
of freeze for a second. Two years. I'm nearly eighteen now. I slip into a kind of terrifying
realization that this is it; there's no going back now. No more hospital work, no more joking
around in my parents' living room, no more late nights in a comfortable bed reading books
that I had been over a thousand times.
There's just sand and blood and dust and death and empty hearts. Nothing more, nothing
less.
I let out a heavy sigh, exhaling a bunch of thoughts I can't fathom into words.
"Is Titus still in there?" Kyros asks, and Callista nods slowly.
"Yeah. He's still there," she tells him, her voice emerging hollow and cautious. Fearful.
"What's he doing?"
"Just... sitting there. Sometimes looking at Felix, sometimes at the floor. He looks sad," the
ginger tells my ghost, and he lets out a hum of acknowledgement.
"He's thinking of Thea," I say, knowing my brother well enough to understand the meaning
behind his silence. Titus is lost, and he's praying that Felix will hold answers about what
happened to Thea.
Kyros sucks in a sharp breath like he's just been slapped, and Callista lets out a heavy sigh.
Whether or not it's intentional, these things affect all of us deeply enough to keep us
constantly guessing. Guessing about our future, guessing about our sanity... it's a mess.
At some point, we went from children who thought they knew what pain was to broken
people who encapsulated your standard Greek tragedy. Like Achilles, like Odysseus, like
Aeneas. Hopeless wanderers tossed about by the winds of time and fate that cares for
nothing but their glorification.
"We should probably head to sleep," Callista says, and Kyros agrees with her cautiously.
"Yeah. Let's go?" he asks me, hand brushing against mine as if he's going to take it and help
me up. I give him a smile but pull my hand away anyway. I still can't even handle it when he
touches me.
"In a few minutes. I kind of want to stay out here for a little bit," I tell them, and Callista
shrugs.
"Suit yourself. Come back soon, okay?" she grins, and I let out a little laugh of agreement.
They both climb back down in silence, and before long, I hear the door of the bus slam shut.
Time ticks by ever so slowly once they're gone, as if someone had replaced the sand in my
hourglass with honey. I watch the dust curl upwards slightly as a southern breeze tickles
my face, and I breath in the smell of emptiness.
A million memories manage to flutter through my head. I was four years old the first time I
got caught in one of my parents' fights. Matthias had gotten so angry that he threw a glass
against the wall, and I had stepping in a sharp shard of the remains as I ran towards my
room. I remember telling myself not to cry, because if I did, then I wasn't strong enough to
keep myself together for Titus' sake.
I met Felix when I was seven. He used to understand me in the same way Titus did, so we
became fast friends almost instantly. He used to defend me from the people at school who
teased me for being the perfect couple's daughter. No one knew about the screaming and
shouting that happened behind closed doors. Except for Felix. And I realized that while I
hated this life, some of the people weren't so bad. And maybe I wasn't so weak anymore.
I was eight when I met Callie, the builder's daughter from the lower levels. I told Felix about
her, and before long, the two became closer to each other than to me. I could never hate
them, though, because they're still my family. And Titus-bless his heart, poor Titus-fell in
love at the ripe age of fourteen. And me? I couldn't even make myself get too attached to
anyone. After all, I though they would probably leave me, too. Because I am weak. I am
pitiful. But I couldn't be, so I used to tell myself that I was strong. I almost laugh at my
naïveté.
At ten, I decided I wanted to be a doctor-just like my mother so distant from me. Because
maybe, though she couldn't heal things, I could try to fix things. I could carry my own
burdens, I thought I could rely only on myself.
"I'm not weak," I would tell Titus. As if I was ever strong.
At sixteen, Felix and Callie started dating, and I started working with Mom in the hospital. I
refused to even admit to myself that I hated the blood. I hated the pain, so I learned to
detach myself from it. I started to learn how to become numb. And then I was seventeen,
running though the desert on a madman's journey that ultimately cost and is costing me my
innocence.
Greek tragedy, indeed.
With a heavy sigh, I stand and make my way down to the desert below. There's a strange
smell in the air, but I can't place my fingers exactly on what it is.
My fingers barely brush against the handle of the door before something sweet-smelling
and intoxicating is smashed over my face by a large hand.
My quickly darkening vision can see the warped skin that covers the arm around my neck
in the moonlight, and my screams are completely muffled by the brutish hand.
Seconds later, everything fades to black.
 Seven: Ashes, Ashes

I come to with a shock as icy, brownish water is poured upon my head. I splutter wildly,
droplets dripping though my hair as I spit some of it onto the ground.
There are two burly Burned men, one on either side of me, with heavy, rusted assault rifles
slung over their shoulders. I'm kneeling on cracked pavement, in the center of a street.
Something tells me I should be afraid, but I'm too in shock to process anything right now.
Including fear.
It strikes me as odd that there's no sunlight anywhere. It's clearly not nighttime anymore.
A quick glance upwards explains why. And nearly stops my heart.
The ceiling, with a distance that I find all too recognizable, is made of glass. We're in a
dome.
Except this dome is underground.
Sand covers the entirety of the dome, and I wonder how far underground we are. This is
terrifying.
The buildings are much like those of the Refuge and of the dome where I grew up, but
there's graffiti all over the crumbling walls. Dim, dirty lights keep the place out of the dark,
but only by a little.
The Burning city smells like ruin. There's the smoke of cigarettes around every street
corner, the reeking stench of alcohol from every other bystander. The air is thick with
darkness and kicked-up dust, and the choking sneers of the Burning in the streets is
deafening as I kneel in their streets.
"Hello, Darling," I sickly voice sneers, as a Burned man steps into my field of vision. Tall and
built like he could snap your neck, his appearance alone is petrifying. A ragged trench coat
is draped over his shoulders, but you can still see the edges of tattoos creeping up his neck
and hands. There's ammo bolstered to a holster on his leg, and a scary-looking handgun is
strapped to him. His hair is shaved into a buzzcut, stubble growing around his warped
features.
Carelessly, he tosses aside the bucket that had probably held the water that's now all over
me.
"Where am I?" I spit, my voice sounding thick and sleepy in my own ears.
"Welcome to Astheneia! The Burning city," he laughs, and I can't do much other than stare
at him blankly. I didn't even know that the Burning had a city, let alone that it's an
underground dome. The Burned man merely laughs at my blank expression.
"Oh, don't worry. We know who you are. You gave Dakros and his people a whole lot of
trouble a few months back, and you gave us Fox and Terra," he sneers and I struggle
against the hands of steel on my shoulders.
"Liar! You took them!" I roar, throwing myself against the guards to no avail. The man finds
some sick kind of humor in my frantic anger, chuckling sadistically as he merely watches.
"Careful with those accusations, dear. We don't even know each other's names," he says,
and I cease my struggling as soon as I really it'll do nothing. I'm too angry and shocked to
feel fear, but the tightening in the back of my throat tells me that's about to change.
"Allow me to introduce myself. My name is Daedalus, and I'm the leader of any organized
group of Burning people you will meet. I'm the king of Aestheneia, and all Burned crews
answer to me. And you are?" he says, and I freeze up a little bit. He's the cause of so many of
my problems. This guy, Lockman, and McGregor.
I refuse to answer him, which for some reason strikes him as amusing.
"I know your name, Miss Thorne, but if you won't tell me, then I'll tell you. You're Ariadne
Thorne, sister of Titus and Echo Thorne, and daughter of Athena and Ezekiel Thorne," he
tells me, and where I should feel concern at his knowledge I feel confusion. I don't have any
sibling other than Titus. But then who's Echo?
"Who's Echo?" I ask, and a look of surprise passes across his face.
"You'd think McGregor would've told you. Of course, she's been with us for so many years it
would make sense that you wouldn't know," he tells me, and I can merely gape at him with
my jaw slack. I have a sister?! A sister who's one of the Burned?!
"But I'm sure you'll meet her eventually. For now, your purification must begin. Do you
know why you smooth-skins are afraid of us?" he asks, and I frown. Smooth-skins. Okay.
"Because you're disgusting and won't hesitate to kill mindlessly?" I ask, my voice trembling
slightly. Oh, hello fear. I was beginning to wonder when you'd show up. Daedalus laughs.
"Perhaps that's what you think. But the truth is that you don't understand us," he tells me,
pacing back and forth a little bit as he speaks.
"We're stronger than you all are. We feel less pain. We're smarter," he says, a growl
creeping into the edges of his voice.
"And you will soon know this, too. Black her out," he finishes, and before I know it, the
guards drug me again despite my screams of protest.
Somewhere in the blackness, I find myself roaming through the streets of the dome where I
grew up, my mother next to me as she discusses her plans for the next day.
Matthias and Titus are out on active duty right now. Mom and I are swamped with work
and stress, surviving off of coffee and determination. There are broken people who need
our help. I fear that we can't save all of them. My mother is prepared to deal with it. I am
not.
The second time I come awake is not because of water, but because of pain. With a loud
scream, I glance downwards to see a hot iron rod pressed against my side, my flesh sizzling
as the burning orange metal touches me. My hands are chained up above my head, my back
pressing into the metal stake I'm tied to. They're moved me into some room even further
underground, stone walls on either side of me and a locked door in front of me.
Gasping in pain, it takes a few more seconds for my vision to focus a little bit more, but with
my clearing head comes fear that hits me in the chest like a sledgehammer.
"You shouldn't squeal so, Miss Thorne," Daedalus sneers, tossing the searing hot metal
aside carelessly. "It doesn't suit you,"
Gulping for air that for some reason I can't find, I try to calm my heartbeat to no avail.
Glancing down at my arm, I can see a bleeding sore spilling blood over my hand, and that's
when I lose it.
He's going to turn me into one of them. That must mean I've been down here without water
for at least a day or two.
My friends won't find me. I'm underground. There are no saviors here.
I'm going to become everything I've been running from. Everything I've been fighting
against.
"Daedalus!" a voice calls, causing the man to stop his teasing.
A girl with short but raggedly curly waves of blonde hair steps forward, I can only sit there
and gawk. No way.
But it's true, because standing before me is Kyros' friend, Andi, who was lost to the desert
and basically the reason he was banished. The reason he came to our dome, and the events
that followed. Holy crap.
"Rhea, you need to stop walking into torture sessions," Daedalus huffs, looked slightly
peeved but not quite angry.
Andi, or Rhea, apparently, ignores him as she strolls towards me, eyes bleeding curiosity.
"You're one of the people traveling with Kyros," she states, no hint of questioning in her
voice. I give her a quick nod, and she nods curiously.
"Come find me once Daedalus fixes you up. I'd like to ask you some questions," she says,
and then trots off like I'm not about to be tortured again.
Daedalus sneers with a wicked grin as Andi leaves, cracking his knuckles expectantly.
Panting from exertion, I barely manage to look him in the eye. I feel so weak, and I can't
place my finger on why. It could be a thousand things; torture, fear, whatever they drugged
me with...
"Surely you must be thirsty," the Burning man asks me, and realization hits me like a brick.
Dehydration. Of course.
"Don't worry. This too, shall pass," he informs me, and immediately slams another sweet-
smelling cloth in front of my face.
I feel my eyes widen as I struggle against his grip, but the gray mists of unconsciousness
quickly return to sedate me.
This time the blackness is empty. I'm almost grateful.
The third time I come to, I'm kneeling on the ground in a room that's completely empty,
save the chains around my arms and ankles. My entire body is consumed by fiery pain,
feeling like a million needles are piercing my skin at once. I let out a quiet groan as I try to
straighten my head enough to look up. I'm going to die here. This is it, isn't it?
I had expected a lot of different things from my life, bit never dying underground
surrounded by crazy diseased people.
As despair sinks its icy claws into my heart, I wonder if my friends are looking for me. They
might have just decided I wasn't worth coming back for. Rightly so.
I pray they won't try to find me. Or maybe that they will. I can't even tell anymore.
The rough stone is painful against my knees, and a quick glance downwards reveals why.
My clothes are covered in blood that pours from the sores that cover the entirety of my
body. Blood that comes from the effects of the Burning.
Daedalus walks in and fills the room with cackling laughter, and I can barely raise my head
to look at him.
"Do you believe in destiny, Miss Thorne?" he asks me, pacing by me like a lion stalking its
prey.
I lock my jaw and stare him down, despite my heart trying to claw its way up to my throat.
He waits for a few seconds, and then lets out a quiet chuckle that can only be described as
sinister.
"I'm convinced you do. And I think you and I are destined to do this forever." he sneers, but
I just glare at him and muster up whatever courage I have left.
"Go to hell," I spit through gritted teeth, and he merely grins at me before turning away.
"Oh, darling," he starts, his tone sickly sweet and condescending. "We're all in hell already,"
I pass out again, but this time from a deadly mix of paralyzing fear and burning pain.
The last time I wake up during this horrible period of time, I can immediately tell that
something is different.
It's like I watching everything through a lens that's a few inches away from my eyes. It's
incredibly strange, but I assume it must be the effects of the drugs and pain.
I'm no longer in an unground cell. I'm in a room with an old bed in one corner and a dresser
across from it, changed into a ragged but cleaner set of clothes that could easily blend in
with sand. Andi and another girl with short, dark hair are sitting there, watching
expectantly as I look them over.
My heart nearly stops when my body sits up slowly on its own accord. My hands reach up
into my field of vision, and a scream that doesn't leave my lips rips through my system.
Where there once was smooth, pinkish skin, there's now flaking burnish skin. Like that of
the Burned.
What is happening?!
Ah. So you must be the original occupant, a voice questions. It's my own, but sounding like
my vocal chords have been dragged through sandpaper.
My name is Arya. And I'm you, I guess. Oh, we're going to have fun together, she laughs,
despite no sound leaving the lips of my body.
Would you like a mirror? she asks me.
Yeah. That'd be nice. I really want to see this hellish creature manifested through my flesh.
Careful, darling. I can hear you, remember? But I'll be kind. Lord knows you need it,
"Where's the bathroom?" not-me asks, her voice raspy and sickly. Andi motions for me to
follow, and Arya follows.
The mirror inside the bathroom is ancient and filthy, but clear enough to see my reflection.
My once chocolate brown eyes are a silvery gray, flashing with something malicious and
twisted. My skin is that of the Burning, my cheeks gaunt and sagging slightly and my eyes
underlined by dark circles. I look like death itself.
I scream and claw at my face. But my body doesn't move.
Not-me reaches up slowly with a wicked grin and runs a hand across her cheeks. With a
satisfactory hum, she leans back and runs a finger through her hair.
"Not too bad," she says, and I can't do anything about it.
Oh, darling, Arya sneers, This is just the beginning.
 Eight: Like a Lamb

Wake up, it's time to destroy things.

I'm aware. I can hear you. Open your eyes, nitwit.
Careful, Sunshine. I might not be able to hurt you, but I don't feel this body's pain. Do I need to
remind you that you do? she threatens, opening her eyes and glancing down at the scars that
litter my body now.
It's been two weeks since Arya completely took over my body. At first, I tried to fight her.
Screaming and clawing at my own head, making her life miserable.
In return, I quickly learned why the Burning don't feel pain: the sick part of them, the one
that's in control, feels very little when it comes to pain. Only enough to keep them alive.
I on the other hand...
Arya has currently slashed at me with a knife, thrown me down a flight of stairs, bashed my
fingers inside a closing door, and countless other injuries. She's picked fights with people
three times her size, let herself get pummeled, and broke her own nose.
The body of Ariadne Simon is a battlefield. There's a broken rib tightly bandaged that
hinders my already stiff and painful movement, bandages covering the various scratches,
cuts, and bruises, and a small bandage over the bridge of my bruised and broken nose. Her
hair is unkempt and wild, for there are far greater things to be concerned about.
At the same time, she keeps on getting stronger. Day after day of sparring and fighting has
started to harden muscles I didn't even know I had.
She's travelled with crews of Burned people to hunting grounds filled with diseased
animals (which apparently do exist if you know where to find them), learned how to kill
quicker than she thought possible, and picked up more knife tricks than she knew existed.
There are only two people that I, as Ariadne, can stand. Andi, Kyros' friend from the Refuge,
and Echo, who is apparently my sister. I haven't had the chance to ask her, since only Arya
and her Burned self have spoken.
Burned Andi asked me questions that Arya answered in ways I would never have expected.
"How is our dear wanderer?" she would ask, and Arya would laugh.
"He's a killer now. I've lost count of how many of our people he's killed. Yet Ariadne... likes
him,"
"Andi would fight her. But only for so long. I think our former occupants get along outside
of us," Rhea laughed, and that was the end of it.
As for Echo, her story is a little different. Apparently, she turned into one of the Burning at
such a young age that her name neither changed and she has a little bit more control.
Although she can't control her Burned self physically, she can sometimes speak as Echo.
Who apparently is incredibly pissed off at life all the time.
Rightly so.
The Burning get in and out of Asthenia through what used to be subway tunnels, the trains
surprisingly still running after all this time. No one controls it, but it keeps on moving
nonstop. It's slow enough that we can still outrun it, so getting out of Astheneia and into the
world above usually involves sprinting and getting onto the train and jumping off when we
reach the station that's close enough to the surface.
It's wild, and I hate it. Arya loves it.
I realize at one point that this is the end for me. That my friends won't come for me, and
that they shouldn't. I deserve this.
I deserve this because I had been so selfish on our trip to the Refuge, and still on the way
back. As if I'm selfless now.
I deserve this because I couldn't save Felix, Thea, or my mother.
I deserve this because I'm too stubborn to talk to Callista and risk losing whatever
fragments of our friendship that remains.
I deserve this because I've broken Mikhail's heart time and time again.
I deserve this because I killed the love of my brother's life.
I deserve this because I can't talk to Kyros without feeling like I'll implode. I deserve this
because he got involved with my life and lost his family because of it.
I must be cursed.
More days pass. I keep on fighting with myself.
It's only when they take us up to the Overground that I realize this isn't like the other times.
"What is this? We already went hunting," Arya asks Echo one day, as we're all crammed
into the train on the way to the surface.
"Headhunting. People wander too far into the desert sometimes," she replies solemnly. I
don't know if it's her or her Burned self that's speaking. Neither does Arya.
"What kind of people?"
"New Canada. They've got massive walls built up where the desert ends. We don't bother
them and they don't bother us. We also don't cross their borders. We've tried. They'll kill us
on the spot. We do the same,"
"Are they like us?" Arya asks, and Echo shakes her head once.
"They're smooth-skins. The war didn't turn their world to dust. I think that's why the wall
is there,"
I would have fainted if I was in control. The world keeps on growing. There are non-Burned
people out there? The desert ends? Is... is that Canaan?!
Don't get your hopes up, Darling. You'll never really know, now will you? Arya mocks, and I
nearly send a string of curses at her before remembering my trip down the stairs this
morning. We're on a train. She'd probably throw me against the tunnel walls and turn me
into a pulp.
No thanks. I choose life. For now.
I'll admit, this isn't the first time I've considered bugging Arya into killing herself. It'd be a
whole lot easier.
But no. Some tiny, hidden part of me wants to have faith that I'll escape this.
The crew of Elite Burned we've brought with us start signaling for us to jump, and before I
know it, we're hurtling out of the rattling subway and onto a collection of soft items ranging
from ancient mattresses to the stuffing from pillows to hole-filled blankets.
Arya lands slightly too far to the left, and pain races through my shoulder as I halfway hit
the hard ground.
Mind your thoughts, Dearie, she growls, and I keep silent. I have no other choice.
The Burning's portal to the outside world is an underground train station, nearly torn
completely to shreds and the center of it covered by the makeshift landing pad.
There's a crack the races up the center wall and splits what used to be a massive poster. It
used to advertise some sort of supermarket, the words "Merchandise Mary's" apparently
used to be written. Ironically, the only letters left are MERC AN ARY, dubbed by the Burning
as Mercenary Landing, or MercLand.
Guards are stationed behind small makeshift barricades, watching for any intruders and
making sure no one goes in or out without proper clearance.
The crew leader clears everyone, and our group makes its way up a flight of stairs that is
overtaken by sand halfway up. The sun aches a little bit against Arya's eyes, accustomed to
the dim lighting of the underground, but she soon adjusts and starts her sprint after the
crew.
It takes nearly two hours of running and marching before Echo tells Arya we're close.
In the ruins of what apparently used to be a place called Danville, we find the so-called
trespassers. And they're my age, if not younger.
It's a group of three or four teenagers, three boys and a girl. And one of the boys faints
when the crew leader leaps around the corner of the ruins they were exploring.
The girl and one of the boys immediately rush to grab hold of each other, and the last boy
takes off running.
One of the Burned people whips out his gun before I can blink, firing two shots with deadly
accuracy that strikes the boy's head and neck respectively. Blood splatters through the air,
and he collapses, never to rise again.
I can, once again, only stand in horror as Arya laughs. She laughs. The sick, twisted monster
laughs as they kill an innocent.
They make the other two kneel. And then shoot both of them in the forehead.
And I snap. I don't know if it's the repulsion in my stomach or the terror in my lungs or the
anger in my heart, but I beat Arya to control of my own body for a minutes or so.
I turn and take of running, and they let me go.
"It's normal for the newbies. She'll be back in a few," one of them assures, barely audible as
I run.
They killed them. They murdered innocent kids in cold blood and I did nothing. Again.
I crumple to my knees and I scream. I scream and curse at the empty sky until my throat
burns with pain and my voice is hoarse and empty.
Seconds later, I keel over and vomit onto the sand until all I'm doing is dry-heaving.
And then Arya's back. And she is so, so angry.
She straightens my body up immediately like she touched hot coals, coughing once, twice,
and then spitting onto the sand.
You're gonna pay for that one, she hisses, her nails raking up my-her-forearm. Before I even
realize what's going on, she pulls out the gun at her side and shoots her own foot.
There's pain, so much pain, like fire that races up my system, but I can't make a sound. Arya
merely grunts a little and half-stomps, half-limps back to where the Burned is waiting, and I
think I pass out from the pain.
I wake up on a bed in Astheneia, with Arya awake and sharpening a knife. Sparks flutter
across the room, dancing forward like reminders of what just happened.
Morning, Sunshine, she mocks, tossing the knife with deadly accuracy against the target on
the far wall.
Oh, go to hell.
You want another bullet hole in your shoe? You're lucky the medics have something to shoot
you up with when you get shot up, she threatens, and I go silent. There's not much else to say.
Nothing she would want to hear.
That's more like it, she chuckles, and if I had any sort of control, I'd probably be sick.
Another few days tick by without any change in my life. Arya continues to destroy me at my
resistance. Andi and Echo continue to be the only people I get along with.
I keep on somehow wanting to live.
It's only when, nearly a week later, as sirens fill Astheneia and the Burned rush after their
weapons, that I truly wish I wasn't alive.
Because walking slowly from the entrance to the subway tunnels are the very people I wish
weren't here.
In the lead is Kyros, a heavy leather coat worn over dust-covered clothes. There's a cut over
his left eye that seems to recently have scabbed over, and though they promptly take away
his gun, the heavy knife at his side is immediately evident.
Behind him is Mikhail, also wearing a coat similar to Kyros. He's got a bandage wrapped
around his hand that extends up into his sleeve, making me wonder what lengths they went
to in order to find me. His hair is a mess of wild, dust-covered blond spikes, yet he's still
grinning stupidly.
Titus looks ready to kill something. He's clutching a rifle in his hands, and the Burned
guards rush to wrench it from his tight grip. Where Kyros looks deceptively calm and
relaxed, and Mikhail is still grinning like a goofball, Titus looks furious.
Callista must be back at the bus with Felix.
Also, seriously... what's up with the matching coats?
From my spot near the front of the crowd that's gathered, I can see everything unfolding.
Both Echo and Andi make their way next to me, and Andi's eyes widen like she's seen a
ghost.
Daedalus pushes his way past, fuming as he looks them over.
"Who let you in here?!" he roars, standing like a lion ready to pounce.
"Your guards, sir. We come with a proposition," Kyros greets, his hands raised above his
head in surrender. Daedalus merely stares at him, as if waiting for someone to start
shooting. When nothing happens for a few seconds, he composes himself and looks Kyros
over judgmentally.
"Then tell me, boy. What could you possibly have to offer me that will guarantee your
lives?" he smirks, the slightest hint of a snicker hidden in his voice.
"More weapons than you can imagine. We have a bus outside stocked to the brim with any
weapon you could dream of. You can ask your guards if you want proof," Kyros explains,
and where Arya lets out a laugh, my heart leaps up to my throat. They're willing to sacrifice
everything for me.
Idiots. I love them all, but I don't deserve this.
Daedalus glances at the guards who brought my friends in, who give him a quick nod of
affirmation.
"I see. I assume it's not for free, though?" Daedalus ponders, his fingers brushing against his
chin pensively.
"No, sir. You took a friend of ours. Ariadne. We want her back," Kyros says, and Daedalus
scoffs.
"That's it? No deal,"
"There's more to it, if I may," Kyros quickly snaps, and Daedalus motions for him to
continue.
"I challenge you to a fight. The winner keeps both the bus and Ariadne," Kyros finishes. The
crowd is completely, utterly silent. I'm assuming nothing like this has ever happened
before.
The only sound in the city is the laughter of Daedalus.
"You see, normally I'd refuse, but I can't resist a good fight. Accepted," the Burning king
finally replies, and murmurs of shock and confusion race through the crowd like wildfire.
I want to scream. I want to claw my way out of this body and tell them to run while they
still can. I want to watch the run far enough so that they can't be hurt.
Arya doesn't.
She steps forward cautiously, silent but smirking confidently just as Titus sees her.
Your brother's gonna be real upset when he sees you. Let's show him my work, she says, and I
can only watch in horror as my heart breaks.
He lets out a strangled sob that is soon followed by the sound of his stomping feet as he
takes off running towards us.
The guards move to stop him, but Daedalus tells them to stop and watches curiously.
As he gets closer, Titus starts looking more and more broken. The closer he gets, the more
bruises and scars he sees. When he's close enough to touch me, he merely looks me over,
eyes tracing the wounds that cover my body. Gingerly, his hand reaches forward and
brushes against my cheek, his eyes bleeding sorrow.
Kyros and Mikhail trot up behind him, except Kyros doesn't stop.
He takes Arya's hands in his for a few seconds before crushing her against him.
"What've they done to you?" he mutters into her shoulder, and I nearly start crying. These
are my friends, my family.
And Arya laughs at them.
"They've perfected me," she sneers, wrenching free of my ghost's arms with no hint of
remorse. Kyros clenches his teeth angrily and I see his knuckles turning white against his
balled-up fists.
"You were already perfect," he says, and turns and storms off.
What? How... I... um... okay...
Oh, shut up. We both know you like him, too, Arya scoffs, and I go silent again.
"Where's this fight going to take place?" Kyros yells, his semblance of calm completely
gone. Daedalus chuckles darkly.
"Are you so eager for a fight?"
"I am now," Kyros growls, and the Burned king merely shrugs.
"Very well. Come along then. Hyperion! Take Arya with you, and... let's say fourteen others
of her choice, yeah?" Daedalus instructs the nearest guard who quickly comes to speak with
me.
Kyros is shoved roughly after Daedalus to wherever it is they're going.
Like a lamb to the slaughter.
 Nine: Mikhail

A/N: Mikhail Foster, ladies and gentlemen.

The ring where they place Kyros and Daedalus inside is kind of terrifying in and of itself.
And fifteen people are not even close to the capacity of it.
The massive, arena-like area has an inner ring that seats eighteen, the fifteen people of my
choice and three guards, but the amphitheater reaches up so much farther. Hundreds of the
Burning file into the massive arena, as Kyros and Daedalus are prepared for whatever fight
is about to happen.
Echo and Andi both seat themselves to my right, while Mikhail and Titus sit on my left.
Behind us are rows upon rows of wildly enthusiastic Burned people, filing into the seats
like this is a game. To be honest, to them it probably is.
There's relative silence for who knows how long. They're all waiting, watching as Daedalus
and Kyros prepare for fight in which only one will survive. The guards, clad in their rusted
armor, watch us warily as Mikhail and Titus whisper something to each other which even I
cannot hear.
Suddenly, ushered in by the roaring crowd, Daedalus emerges from his corner and enters
the ring, a smug grin on his face. He's abandoned his armor and his shirt, revealing
terrifying tattoos tracing all along is Burned skin. If he wasn't terrifying then, he surely is
now. There's no weapons I can see on him, so I cross my fingers and pray that he won't pull
any tricks.
Hands raised up into the air, Daedalus laughs and yells triumphantly, the crowd responding
in fervor. He stalks the ring like he owns the place, which isn't far from the truth.
A few seconds later, Kyros walks slowly out of his corner and up into the ring.
His shoulders droop slightly, but there's fire in his eyes. His jaw is locked tight, a tight-
lipped frown cemented onto his face. He's also abandoned the trench coat and the t-shirt he
had on under it, and he's wrapped his knuckles up in a white gauze-like material.
He's still wearing Andi's necklace however, and I think she sees it at the same time as I do.
For a few split seconds, her eyes flicker with recognition, and she sucks in a sharp breath.
Seconds later, Rhea returns, and she lets out a scoff.
Kyros raises his fists up in a ready position, bouncing once, twice on the balls of his feet
before settling down again. Daedalus laughs and throws a few punches at the air before
motion for the referee to commence the battle.
With the loud sound of a gunshot, hell breaks loose.
Daedalus, previously seeming nonchalant and overconfident, changes his semblance
immediately and lunges at Kyros.
His fists raise to block the blow, even landing a punch at the man's ribcage, but Daedalus is
one of the Burned. He doesn't feel pain.
Seconds later, Kyros is bodily slammed into the chain link wall of the ring, the crowd
exploding in frenzied cheers.
But my ghost is far from finished.
He grabs hold of the metal frame of ring and lifts himself up, his boots slamming into
Daedalus' chest seconds afterwards.
The Burned man is launched backwards, giving Kyros a few seconds to charge at him. With
a few deft kicks, my friend kicks the king of the Burned smack in the face.
The crowd grows silent. I don't think they're used to seeing their king fighting against
someone who can actually take him.
There's blood that pours from Daedalus' nose as he stands, a wicked snarl escaping his lips.
And then he charges again.
For a few seconds that feel like an eternity, it's impossible to tell who's winning-a mess of
flying fists, yells of anger, and splatters of blood that stain the still air.
Mikhail is clinging to his seat with knuckles that are quickly turning white, teeth clenched
as he stares at the scene before us.
"Come on, Ky, come on," he mutters, and Titus glances over at him quickly. There's
something the three of them know that we don't. I've known them long enough to
recognize these things.
Is that so? Well, time to tell the guards, Arya sneers, and I nearly scream again.
You do that, things aren't gonna be pretty.
Yeah? What are you gonna do?
Please!
And then there's silence. She doesn't reply, but also doesn't move.
With a yell of fury, Daedalus snaps free of the tangle, and Kyros staggers backwards.
There's blood trickling from his nose, and a few bruises already settling in on his lip and
ribcage. Daedalus doesn't fare much better.
"Did you really think you would win, boy? I don't lose. Ever," Daedalus sneers, only loud
enough for the front row to hear.
My confusion at his statement is soon replaced with horror as a glint of silver flickers from
his hand.
A knife. He's got a wicked-looking switchblade clenched between his fingers.
Kyros' eyes widen, and he spits blood quickly before preparing himself for the worst.
Mikhail and Titus see it at the same time as Rhea and Echo, all of them gasping in surprise.
Terror grips me and threatens to squeeze the life out of me, and despite Arya's control, my
breathing starts getting messed up.
Mikhail stands suddenly, still clinging to his chair with white knuckles.
The Burned king slashes at my friend suddenly, but Kyros is quick. He ducks under the
knife, dodging attack after attack successfully. Until he trips.
Daedalus' knife slashes against his shoulder, a few droplets of blood splattering against the
fence.
The crowd loses it.
Kyros doesn't last much longer. One dodge, another, and then Daedalus' knife stabs against
his leg. With a cry of pain, my ghost crumples, weakly dodging attacks that litter his body
with bleeding wounds. And daedalus doesn't stop. Even when Kyros feebly kicks his knife
away, he takes to his fists, laughing maniacally as he lands blow after blow onto my friend.
This can't be happening. I'm going to lose him. I don't... I can't...
And suddenly, my despair overpowers Arya's maliciousness.
"Kyros!" I scream, in control of my body once again. Titus and Mikhail both snap to look at
me, as I try to clamber over the stands. Daedalus ceases his assault and looks at me in
confusion.
The guards look at each other in confusion, unsure of wether to stop me or let me go. The
crowd goes silent.
Down on the floor level, a desperate girl reaches desperately for the hand of one of her only
remaining friends through the fence of a fighting ring.
Weakly, Kyros coughs up some blood and reaches his hand out for mine. The tips of our
fingers barely brush together before Daedalus is sneering down at both of us.
"Fight her off, Arya. We both know you're stronger than her," he tells me, and though Arya
tries to wrestle her way to the forefront of my mind, my despair and panic are stronger
still.
I shoot a murderous glare at Daedalus, who merely raises his eyebrows in surprise.
"You love him," he says, and I don't reply. I don't need counseling from the crazy Burned
king. Also of course. He's my friend, my family. How could I not?
You're an idiot, Arya sneers faintly, but I manage to ignore her.
Daedalus' gaze switches from Kyros and I to something behind me.
There's a hand on my shoulder, and I turn to look at my skywalker. His gaze is unreadable,
like he's waiting for the world to explode or something along those lines.
The crowd is back into their frantic murmuring as soon as I turn away, with Daedalus
pacing and taunting my ghost as he lies there, dying.
His scruffy blond hair is tinted a little bit by the sand in it, a smear of dirt across his left
cheekbone. There's a scabbed over cut over his right eye, but I remember thinking that his
blue eyes had never been brighter.
"I love you," he tells me, his voice thick with some unregistered emotion. Before I can feel
any sort of indignation, he leans forward and kisses me.
It's barely anything at all; a slight brush of the lips with gentleness that would make you
think we're both made of glass. Somehow, I don't pull away.
Mikhail pulls away and flutters his eyes open, cheeks flushed as he stares at my gaping
expression. I must look ridiculous, because he lets out a sad sort of laugh and pushes a stray
strand of hair from my face.
"I had to do that. At least once," he tells me, and I still can't find words to speak.
I think I would've been angry if it weren't for what happens next.
"Buckle up, sweetheart," he chuckles, and then turns away like nothing ever happened.
It's only as he's turning and sprinting up the steps that I realize what's going on. His coat
flutters backwards and I catch a glimpse of the trigger he's just pulled out of his pocket.
He's going to do some sort of suicide bombing.
I can barely register the scream that's ripping through my throat as I take off after him, but
it's far, far too late. He's already nearing the top of the arena, and my screams don't even
get him to turn around.
He's going to die, too. Whatever happens here, I'm going to lose someone I care about.
And once again, I'll be helpless to stop it.
"Mikhail!" I scream, loud enough to hurt my throat. It's no use.
The look on his face is peaceful. He wanted this. He wanted to sacrifice himself to save me.
To save us.
There's conviction like star-fire dancing across his face. This was his choice.
But it shouldn't have to be.
Then my world is consumed by fire.
I'm close enough to the explosion that I can feel the heat of the fires burning against my
back as I'm launched backwards bodily.
All I hear is ringing. I can see the people running and screaming, I can see the panic that has
suddenly flooded all of Astheneia, but I can't hear anything but the ringing.
Something registers, that I'm sobbing, screaming with lungs that already burn, and that's
there's a throbbing pain that races along my back, but there's not much more that's in my
head other than Mikhail.
There are Burning people and parts of Burning people that explode and fly everywhere, the
debris covering everything and anything.
It's only when I look up that I realize that their plan was to break the glass above and not
the people below. There's sand that pours from the ceiling like water.
Part of me hopes that I'll be buried beneath it.
I want to die. Even if someone came to save me, I'd beg for them to leave me here.
So when Echo and Andi, apparently freed from the control of their sick selves, come and
hoist me to my feet, I struggle against them, only capable of repeating the word "No!" over
and over and over again.
Titus catches up rather quickly, with a bloodied Kyros over his shoulder, and they all start
moving. The more I struggle against them, the more the pain in my back increases, before
everything goes black and I knock myself unconscious from pain.
I dream of my rogue skywalker and a dance beneath the ground on the day we met. I dream
of the day we find Kyros, and how much panic I had felt at the thought of never seeing him
again. I dream of when we all raced into the desert, and how Mikhail was my lifeline for a
good part of that. I remember the day we lost Felix, and how from that day on, we started
drifting apart. I remember how he told me he loved me, and how I broke his heart. Twice.
And now, when he sacrificed his life to save us all.
In the end, there is but one thought in my mind.
This is what the sinner said to the desert:
"Take my life, but do not take my love from me."
And the desert listened.
 Ten: Argos

A/N: Aesthetic for Johann Blackwood.

I awaken to find the all-too-familiar rumbling of the bus beneath me. The familiar rough
navy blue sheets of the bunks are beneath me, and over me, and I can only stare at the
wooden bottom of Callista's bunk as guilt and sorrow wash over me like the ocean.
The first thing I notice is that there's a burning pain that makes my back feel like it's on fire.
The second thing I notice is that I'm not in control.
Morning, sunshine, Arya spits, no hint of teasing confidence in her voice. She's angry, and
away from her people, and my friends have her under their control.
She rattles against the cuffs that are attached to one of her wrists and both of her feet, but
to no avail. They've been waiting for this. They're ready. Every angle of this situation,
they've calculated. Even Andi and Echo coming with us, apparently.
Arya glances sideways and reveals the two of them chained up in a similar fashion. Andi is
still asleep, but Echo is awake, staring at the ceiling like she wants to kill it.
Callista crouches down into my field of vision suddenly, startling both Arya and I.
"Ari is that you? Or is it... her?" she questions, and I can feel the smirk that spreads across
Arya's face.
"Ariadne isn't home right now. Please leave a message at the tone,"
Oh, sure. Of course evil me had to be a sarcastic idiot.
While Callie looks disappointed, there is moment where humor flickers across her gaze,
soon replaced by hatred.
"Where's Felix?" Arya asks, and Callie gestures behind her.
"In the back. Still," she replies, and Arya nods slowly.
"And where are we?"
The bus suddenly lurches to a halt, and shouting fills the air.
"The gates of New Canada," Titus yells from somewhere in the back. Arya pokes her head
out of the bunk and glances at the front window of the bus.
There's a stone and concrete wall that seems to reach for the heavens themselves, iron
gates sealing off who knows what. The towers far above us shine spotlights upon us despite
the sun outside, and Titus quickly sprints from his seat to head outside.
Holy crap. So this is New Canada.
I hear shouting and frantic apologies filling the air, and then silence. Callie edges closer to
the front of the bus, while Echo, Rhea and I merely stare at the scene outside in intense
silence.
Kyros. Where's Kyros?
I can't even ask because of Arya.
Titus enters the bus a few seconds later, gently placing his hand on Callie's shoulder and
pushing her to sit on the couch.
Three men in heavy body armor and masks step into the bus, clutching heavy weapons in
their arms. In their lead is muscled, tall blond dude with an undercut and more tattoos than
I could count. Seriously. Arms, hands, and neck are covered, let alone probably everywhere
else on him.
He raises a hand and the men stop moving, and he points at me quickly.
"Are these your Burned friends?" he questions, and Titus nods.
"My sister, three friends, and the guy who was bringing us here," he says.
Kyros. He's one of the Burned now, too.
The tattooed blond guy lets out a scoff.
"You're crazy, man. There's no cure for them, you know that? Canaan's a myth," he says,
and I can see the color drain from both Callie and Titus' faces.
This turned out to be a wild goose chase anyway. We've been chasing ghosts.
"Anyway. My name is Johann Blackwood. I'll stick with you guys as you come into the city.
There are people who would kill your friends on sight," he informs, and Titus nods once.
"Understood,"
"Here's my condition, though. If you can't find any hope for your friends, which I'm sure
you won't, you either kill them or we send them back to the desert where they belong.
Three days," he barks, and Titus doesn't say a word.
"I can't let you in until you agree, Mr. Simon," Johann says, hands folded behind his back
soldierly.
"Alright," Titus says, and Callie whirls to look at him like he's grown three heads.
"Titus!" she yells, and my brother merely holds a finger up to his lips in a plea for her
silence.
"Very well, then. I'll stay with them. The rest of you report to Hyperion," Johann instructs,
and the remaining soldiers stomp off of the bus. He waits until the door slams shut, and
then releases his hands as his entire body loses its soldierly tension.
"Listen and listen quick: Canaan is real, but the people here hate the Burned so much it'd be
dangerous for them to reveal themselves. I work for people who call themselves Argos. Our
job is to move Burned people to Canaan to be cured. My people will get you there by any
means necessary. Canaan's got a boat station near Alaska; I'll make sure to find a way to get
you all there," he says, his voice barely above a whisper.
Callie is pale as a sheet, looking terrified and angry. Titus, on the other hand, has got a look
of frozen determination on his face, like he's ready to do whatever it takes. Like he's
already lost everything.
"Thank you," Titus says, his voice thick with emotion as he shakes Johann's hand firmly.
"Oh, don't thank me yet. And you, Red. You okay with this?" he asks Callista. My ginger
meets his eyes and nods once, and he winks at her playfully before hopping into the
driver's seat. Titus sits by him in the passenger's seat, and Callie sort of crumples onto the
couch.
Holy crap. Canaan is real, and we're going to get there. Soon.
They can get rid of Arya.
For once, the monster is silent. I can feel her fear, though. This is... going to be messy.
For the next few hours, the bus keeps on rolling. Arya and Echo throw about some nasty,
murderous conversations, and while Rhea joins in every so often, Kyros is silent.
Even the thought of his suffering through actually becoming one of the Burned sickens me
to the stomach. He doesn't deserve this.
None of us did. And Mikhail, especially, should never have even been here.
The skywalker's name brings a fresh wave of guilt over me like a hurricane, and I'm certain
that if Arya wasn't in control, I probably would've thrown up.
We pass by cities that are reconstructed, and though I can only see glimpses of them
through the windows, I'm already blown away. These people have built kingdoms out of
ashes, fashioned from anything from scraps to material that looks mostly new.
Johann finally stops the bus somewhere that seems to be in the middle of nowhere, and
says something to Titus which causes my brother to jog off into the back room.
"Where are we?" Callista asks, looking kind of pissed off.
"Not pretty enough for you, Red?" Johann asks with a smirk, leaning towards her slightly.
Oh. Oh.
Well I mean. Of course. Callista's gorgeous. Why wouldn't he flirt with her?
"That's not what I meant at all," she says, looking extremely ticked off at Johann's behavior.
"I know," he says, smirking smugly before trotting off after Titus. They emerge a few
seconds later with Felix between the two of them, and despite his roars and struggles, they
manage to get him outside.
Callista waits impatiently, her foot tapping against the ground being the only sound in the
bus apart from several sets of breathing.
With a laugh, Johann bursts back into the bus, Titus on his heels as the lead Andi outside
next. She thrashes against them wildly, snarling wickedly as they drag her off, but she too,
makes it outside.
"This is insane," Callista mutters, glancing over at the three of us that remain.
Echo proves to be more difficult, as she launches herself to the floor and almost makes
Titus release his grip on her after she kicks his legs nearly out from under him.
Kyros is next, and I can see his usually calm face twisted into an angry scowl. It hurts just to
see him.
Finally, they come for me, and Arya is frantic, although not quite strong enough to cause
her freedom. Besides, with whatever painful injury is on my back, there isn't that much
resistance to be had.
"Alright, Red. You can come on down, now," Johann instructs, and Callista follows after
them quietly.
As soon as we step outside, both Arya and I are rendered speechless. All we've seen for our
entire lives in desert that never ends. This is so far from that.
Though the green in the scenery is minimal, the skeletons of trees are present, brownish
yellow leaves still dangling from their branches. Dead leaves and grass are on the ground,
turned a tan yellow from who knows what causes.
There's an entrance to a camouflaged stone tunnel in front of us, which the three of walk
into without much said between the four of us.
An iron door opens to reveal a whole other place just as the light from behind us goes away.
They've probably closed the entrance to the tunnel.
The room itself is phenomenal. Reddish stone brick walls line a massive room filled with
tables, maps, weapons, tools, and above all, people. Wearing all sorts of clothing and with
all types of people present, Johann lets out a laugh as we all gape at the place. There are
guards stationed in towers on all four corners of the room, giving them a bird's eye view of
the hubbub below. Shelves lined with everything from weapons to medical supplies to
books and papers line the walls and even stand alone near some of the tables circled by
people. At the very center of the room is a raised dais upon which a massive stone table
stands, with one woman with graying blond supervising the entire place.
"Welcome to Argos, friends! The Burning World Republic," Johann introduces, and we can
merely gawk at the sight of it.
"Johann! You're late!" the woman at the center yells, and Johann waves goofily at her.
"Sorry, Mum! I did get us some friends, though!" he cheerily calls, and despite the eye roll
that follows, a slight smirk tugs at the woman's lips. There's a heavy leather overcoat
draped over her shoulders, a navy blue scarf covering her neck and the hem of the black
shirt she's wearing.
The people barely pay attention to Arya as she's dragged in, but merely glance at her as if
this happens a hundred times a day.
"Whisper, can you take our friend to go be with her people?" the woman asks, and a wiry
girl with a platinum blonde undercut quickly leads me away from Titus and Callie.
I'm led away from the central room and down a hallway filled with prison-like rooms,
which I am promptly led into. The handcuffs are removed just as I'm pushed inside.
The door locks quickly, and Whisper heads off again without a word. Her name is fitting.
"Arya?" I hear Echo ask, and I turn to see my friends all sitting there.
"I'm gonna kill them," Arya spits, and Rhea agrees heartily.
"Get in line, girls," Fox informs us, rolling his neck quickly with a sickening grin on his face.
Echo lets out a scream and suddenly throws herself against the bars, but it does nothing.
"You'll do nothing but bruise yourself," a voice chides, and Burned Kyros stands up from his
corner. He's bandaged everywhere, probably from the fight with Daedalus.
"Kronos, it's better than doing nothing," Echo spits, and he rolls his eyes like he's bored.
"What do you think they'll do to us?" Arya asks, her voice emerging frightened. There's
silence among the Burned, and it stays that way for another half an hour or so.
They all fall asleep, one by one, until only Echo and I are still awake.
I still don't know if she's really my sister, but I do still get alone with her. Pretty well,
actually.
"They're gonna kill the Burned version of me," Echo says, her knees pulled up against her
chest. Her voice emerges calmer, quieter, and even a little bit afraid.
She has good reason to be. She's been one of the Burning since she was four years old.
"Who will I be once I kill this... thing?" she asks, and Arya lets out a scoff.
"I'm just not looking forward to seeing this sap come back and I'll be gone for good," she
spits, referring to me. I should be offended, but I feel too bad for Echo to pity myself.
"I'm not. I kind of want to meet Ariadne. You know my mother used to say that's what she'd
name the baby?" she tells Arya, who merely rolls her eyes and wanders off.
She is my sister. Holy crap. How am I gonna break that to her?
Either way, night comes and both Arya and Echo fall asleep.
The morning light brings with it the completely unexpected.
 Eleven: Control

Arya is still asleep when handcuffs are roughly slammed over her wrists and she's roughly
yanked to her feet.
Johann grins through her sleepy-eyed vision, laughing a little as he shoves her out the door
and into Whisper's arms. Quickly, she pricks Arya's neck and injects some sort of strange
greenish substance into her veins.
Her body goes limp and she crumples, her knees colliding with he rocky ground hard
enough to send pain shooting up my veins.
One by one, Johann tosses my Burned friends to Whisper and her incapacitating solution,
until we're all awkwardly sitting (read:heaped up) against the wall. Silent men whose faces
I never really see come and carry all of us away, until we're all finally loaded onto what
looks like a train of sorts.
The thing itself is pretty magnificent. It's formed from some silvery-white material with
light green accents and seats inside of it, with handcuffs attacked to the armrests of the
seats to hold in the Burning victims it probably transports regularly.
It smells oddly like bleach and cleaning product, making me wonder how many messes
they have to clean up in here.
My friends and I are strapped down into the chairs just as our strength starts to return, and
Arya mutters a few curses before yanking at the restraints a few times. Once she realizes it
will get her nowhere, she slumps against the seat and huffs.
This is ridiculous. They're chaining us up like animals, she growls, and I scoff.
Maybe because you are?
Arya goes silent, but I can feel her stewing anger.
Johann and Whisper walk into the cabin as well, followed by Titus and Callista.
"So... noon?" Titus asks, his voice sounding quiet. Defeated.
"Noon," Johann agrees, leaning the gun in his arms against the wall of the train before
taking a seat close to Callie.
The doors slide shut with a hiss, leaving only the light of the train to illuminate the cabin.
Time ticks slowly. Whisper doesn't say a word, and Titus merely watches all of us like he's
looking at ghosts. Johann doesn't stop flirting with Callie, who merely ignores him in angry
silence.
I know her too well, though, and I can tell she's actually quite flustered by it. In front of
Felix. Who's trapped in Fox's body merely watching this. Ouch.
Kronos, Rhea, and Fox kind of hold a hushed conversation by themselves in their corner,
while Echo and I merely huddle in our corner. I think Andi, Kyros, and Felix's monsters are
all angry. Furious. Ready to kill.
Echo and Arya are afraid. Afraid of losing themselves.
I almost let out a laugh as Arya cowers within my own body, and despite her anger, her fear
stops her from doing anything to me right now.
Probably about two hours in, Arya, suddenly starts to scream.
"Please don't kill me! You can't! Please!" she shrieks, repeating basically that same sentence
over and over again as she thrashes against the restraints around her wrists.
How does it feel, monster?! How does it feel to have everything ripped away from you?!
"Shut up, shut up!" Arya yells audibly, rather than taunting me within my own head, as she
tucks her head down as if that will block out my voice.
Seconds later, Whisper shoots her up with another tranquilizer, and she goes limp.
Oh, how the tables have turned. There's no pity anywhere in my soul. In fact, part of starts
to hope she'll suffer when she dies.
A few hours later, Whisper stands up and tranquilizes all five of us in the chest without
speaking or hesitating, so that we're all quiet and movable. They take Kyros and Felix first,
and then Andi and Echo, and then finally, Titus comes to take me.
"They told me it's gonna hurt when they heal you. That you'll have to fight to be okay again.
I... I need you to fight, Spunk. For me, okay? Come back to me," my brother says, nearly in
tears as he gently shakes Arya's shoulder, and I want to scream that I will.
I will fight for as long as it takes, walk off of the earth, climb the tallest mountain, anything
to be reunited with the only family I have left.
He sucks in a sharp breath and rubs at his face quickly before gently picking me up and
carrying me out of the train. And boy, what a sight we find.
It's cold-really cold as we step outside; the kind of frosty wind that nips at your skin and
that you feel in your bones. Everything is covered by white, and I immediately assume that
this is the snow from the Histories. Holy crap.
I wonder why none of us are wearing coats, until we quickly push into the door of a small
building in front of us. With Arya's head dangling off of Titus' arm, I didn't even see the
place.
Johann merely gestures for Titus to head down the next hallway before us, and I can hear
his footsteps behind us. Everything I see looks the same, until Titus turns and I can the
ocean. The ocean. As far as my known world was concerned, this thing didn't exist.
We're on the deck of a massive boat. A ship, really. And there's people everywhere.
Titus and Johann carry me down a flight of cramped stairs quickly and I hear the creak of a
door opening before Arya's body is limply laid onto a bed. An actual, real, soft bed like I
haven't seen or felt in two months.
"There'll be a scientist here any second. You can stay with her, if you'd like, but after they
inject her, you'll have to leave her in quarantine until we get to Canaan," Johann tells Titus,
who merely lets out a quiet hum of acknowledgement before seating himself on a chair
near my bed.
Still without control, and with Arya incapacitated, all I can see is the tan-colored ceiling and
the top of Titus' head sticking up with wild tufts of curly dark hair.
And so we wait. And wait. And wait. And I get to listen to Arya's muttered curses and
whines of terror. Pathetic.
Finally, nearly a half hour later, I hear the door creak open again, and footsteps sound as
someone walks in.
"Hi. Are you Titus?" she asks, and my brother stands to his feet with a nod.
"And this is Ariadne, I assume?" she asks, her voice sounding... condescending, almost. Like
she's filled with false pity. She must be used to this.
"Was," "Is, Mr. Thorne. We've just gotta pull her back out of here. Help with the restraints?"
she questions, and Titus merely nods as the strap my wrists, head, ankles, and waist down.
"Okay. I'm going to inject her with the cure now, okay?" she asks, and Titus' face is drawn
into silent determination as he nods.
There's a needle-prick pain on my left arm, and for, a few seconds, nothing happens.
"Alright. You don't want to see this. Let's go?" the nurse says, and I see Titus leave quickly
with his mouth drawn into a tight lipped frown.
The door is barely closed when my world erupts with fire.
There's pain like a thousand flames that races across my skin, racing over every inch of me
like all-consuming fire.
I don't think there are words to explain what it feels like. I had thought turning into one of
the Burning hurt, or that getting stabbed through the shoulder or slashed at with a knife
hurt. I had thought that the burns on my back hurt.
Compared to this, all those things felt like kisses.
And Arya feels pain. With frantic spasms only reinforced by her screams, she only makes
things worse than they already are. The burn wound on my back splits open painfully, only
adding to the deathly sensation.
Not like this! Arya screams, but the words can barely form through the fiery pain in her-my
veins.
She starts convulsing violently and I can taste the bile rising up in her throat, rattling
against the restraints so loudly that I can already feel the bruising biting into my skin
wherever the leather bindings touch me.
And then she stills, and her eyes flutter closed.
Seconds later, I join her in oblivion. And the pain grows dull.
I don't how much later it is when I wake up again, but the restraints are loose, and my
skin... my skin is normal. There's no more rough, scaly burned scar tissue, only smooth,
pinkish skin that has returned to normal.
Though my vision is blurry, it no longer feels like I'm looking through lenses. My own eyes
are back.
I raise my head and-I raise my head and look around!
There's no voice in the back of my head, no one else controlling my limbs.
This is freedom.
And I don't deserve it. Mikhail is dead because of me.
Slowly, with shaky limbs that rattle like old bones, I shift myself into a sitting position. The
blanket over the sheets around me is colored purple, the kind of rich, deep color that seems
to be reserved for royalty, but the rest of the room is white.
It's small, with the bed and the seat int he corner taking up most of the space, but there's
probably about seven or eight feet from the bed to the wall opposite to the door.
There's moonlight that filters through a sliding glass door that's on said wall, and I have to
blink a few times to readjust my vision. Looking through my own eyes again is bizarre.
I suck in a sharp breath as my toes brush against the faux wooden flooring, the chill of the
outside seeping into it slightly.
The floor doesn't creak when my full weight leans against it, but I'm too weak to stand
alone.
My mouth is dry as the desert I grew up in, and my tongue feels swollen as it sticks to the
corners of my cheeks. There's a burning feeling at the base of my throat, and I feel
lightheaded, as if I've just awoken from a coma.
On the desk next to the bed lies a piece of paper with hastily scrawled out handwriting on
it. It's a note from the nurse telling me that I need to stay in quarantine for a few hours after
I wake up, just to make sure I'm alright.
Feebly, I hobble my way over to the sliding door, feeling more vulnerable than ever. I try
the door, but I'm too weak to even open it.
Thoughts flood my mind like a tidal wave, and a single name paves the path for the
wreckage.
Mikhail.
I crumple into a mess of tears, sliding against the glass door weakly as I stare up at the
heavens. I scream, I sob, I howl into the night and throw every curse I know at the sky, but
the stars... the stars know what it is to suddenly become. I do not. They merely stand there,
so mockingly indifferent to all that I've suffered.
The skywalker didn't deserve this. He came with me out of love, and died out of love, and
all I ever did was break his heart. He died thinking that I still hated him.
And it's all my fault.
"Don't do this to me, Mickey! Come on, don't be dead, you can't be dead!" I scream,
crumpling to the floor in a mess of sobs and empty promises that will never be fulfilled.
My demons have a voice now, and they sound an awful lot like Arya.
You're the sun, Ariadne Thorne, cries sneering Persephone from the depths, taunting me
through what resembles Arya's voice, the skywalker was your Icarus. He flew far too close to
you. You blaze and you burn and everything that comes near you falls apart. You are alone,
alone,
alone.
The world would never again hear Ariadne Thorne scream at the stars as she did that night.
 Twelve: Reunions

A/N: Aesthetic for Echo Thorne.

I think at some point, I fall unconscious against the door, because all I hear in the morning
are the muttered curses that Titus spits as soon as he walks in.
"If you won't even stay in bed, Ari, how are we supposed to keep you alive?!" he grumbles,
picking me up as if I weigh little more than a feather. Gently, he places me back down on the
bed, making sure I'm conscious before he starts to speak.
"How're you feeling, Spunk?" he asks, his voice quiet and his eyes bleeding with worry.
"Like there's sandpaper in my throat, knives in my stomach, and dust in my eyes," I say, my
voice emerging croaky and hoarse.
"And there's enough guilt in my system to make the ocean overflow," I finish, and Titus lets
out a scoff that's tinged with humor.
"So basically, you're ready to see everyone else,"
We both chuckle a little at that, but I find myself agreeing against my better judgement.
"If I could get a shower, first, though..."
"Yeah, yeah. Come on, I'll show you where it is," he says, standing up and helping me to my
feet.
I'm not feeling very stable; far from it, but Titus won't know that. No one will. So I force
myself to stand and waste nearly all of my little energy to follow him with my back straight
and my chin up, down a narrow hallway lined with rooms identical to mine, except with the
doors closed.
There's a tiny room with a shower stall that's barely big enough for me to stand in, with a
plastic sink, cheap mirror, and plastic toilet cramming it even further, but it's clean. And
there's no sand anywhere.
"I'll have a nurse bring you a change of clothes. Take as long as you want, and then meet us
all on the recreation room on deck 3," he instructs, and I nod slowly. He sucks in a deep
sigh, and then pulls me again him tightly. My brother's arms are strong and comforting;
they're probably the last thing I can really call home. And for once, things feel good for a
few seconds.
My cheek sticks slightly to his leather jacket, either from the tears now spilling down my
cheeks or just because I haven't showered, but neither of us really care.
"Don't ever scare me like that again. I thought I lost you," he says, as soon as he pulls away.
I let out a watery laugh but nod anyway.
"I'll do my best,"
Seconds later, he slips out without a word and I lock the door behind him.
Weakly, I struggle with the tattered t-shirt I'm wearing until I can get it off completely.
There's bloodstains from the wound on my back on it, and it's only when I take it off that I
realize how much the darn thing hurts.
It had partially scabbed over with the shirt still on, so when I take it off, it pulls at the
blisters and scabs enough to tear some of them open anew.
Ariadne from nearly a year ago would've cried out in pain. Ariadne now merely sucks in a
sharp breath. I've endured much worse than this.
It's then that I get a good look at myself in the cheap, clouded mirror.
My eyes are hollow and sunken in, like that of a heroin addict, with dark, bluish circles
under them. There's a scabbed-over cut over my left eye, deep enough to surely leave a
scar. Another scar is carved into my neck, as is another mottled patch of skin over my
shoulder where I was stabbed so long ago. There's another slash against my arm where
Felix cut at me, as well as countless smaller scars from Arya's torture methods. Bruises and
rashes from falls, scrapes, and fights litter my entire body, as well as a purplish split lip that
only adds to the effect.
I turn slightly at the expense of the burn wound on my back, but at least I get a glimpse of it.
It's nasty and blistered and bleeding, with fluid and blood mixing as they ooze from the
wound. It extends from the nape of my neck, slightly over my shoulder, all the way down
the right side of my spine and ends a few inches above my coccyx.
Perhaps the most striking change, however, is my eyes.
My right eye has returned to its normal chocolate brown, but my left is changed into the
color of the sky, blue as the ocean. It's probably the least terrifying of my traits at this point.
I want to scream and cry and curse the stars for this haunted shell I've become, but I don't. I
merely stare back at my reflection like I'm looking at the angel of death, and then turn
away.
I instinctively turn the water of the shower to a lukewarm setting, like we'd done for the cat
baths we'd had in the desert, but soon realize I don't have to do that. When we'd been in
the bus, we were all allowed one lighting quick shower every five days, only long enough to
rinse of using about a half bucket or so of water.
So when the water actually hits my body, I shriek and leap backwards, only stopped by the
sudden pain in my back.
The shower is gentle and warm and inviting, so I give myself the nerve to enjoy it for a
while. The door creaks open, and since I obviously can't see through the curtain, I poke my
head out the side of it. The nurse shrieks a little in surprise, but gives me a kind smile as she
places a towel and a clean set of clothes onto the sink. I try to smile in return, but physically
can't and so just mutter a feeble 'thank you.'
There's some cheap soap and shampoo already in the shower, so I use it carefully so as not
to put too much too close to any of my injuries.
I finished nearly without incident, and dry of quickly. There's a pair of jeans and a gray t-
shirt a strange logo on it, as well as an old, black oversized hoodie. I put it all on with some
difficulty, as well as the brown leather boots on the floor, and push the door open carefully.
There's no one in the hallway, which means two thinks: a. that there's no people that I have
to avoid, and b. that I'm lost and there's no one to ask for directions.
That's okay. I'll find them myself.
Twenty minutes and a lot of wrong turns later, I finally find the exit to the maze of rooms,
thanks to a small sign on the door that points to the "third deck."
I start up the stairs, but suddenly, a tutting nurse leaps around the corner and pulls me
along with her.
"Miss Thorne, we still have to bandage your back! It'll just take a minute, your friends are
waiting!" she says, and I stay silent as she merely leads me up the stairs and into a room
with the words 'medbay' on the door.
It only takes her a few minutes to bandage my back up and send me off in the right
direction, the speed of it for which I am very grateful.
There's a few more medical people I brush past in the hallway on my way to the third deck,
but no one that would make me stop.
Everything looks basically the same, with the white walls and faux wooden flooring
covering every corner of the ship, but the dining hall... the dining hall is different.
Same wooden flooring but there's a lot more... metal. The tables, the walls, the counters... all
of it. There's windows, too, with sunlight filtering through to reveal a magnificently blue
ocean that reaches as far as one can see.
I barely get a good glimpse of it before there's a tall bundle of goofy grins and messy dark
hair hugging me, a laugh returning that I thought I'd never hear again. My back stings
wherever he touches it, but I honestly don't care.
"You took your sweet time coming to find me," my friend teases, and I let out a watery
laugh that's somewhat tinged with sorrow.
"Felix, I didn't even know I had to look for you," I say, and he lets out a somewhat barking
laugh at that.
"Understandable. It's good to see you, Ari," he says, and I give him a weak smile and a nod.
His eyes are like mine. One brown as the earth after a summer rain and the other as icy
blue as the reflection of water on a glacier. I have to ask someone what this is all about.
Seconds later, Andi comes running and punches me in the arm with a surprising amount of
strength.
"Ow!" I shout, feeling a lot of confusion, concern, and a bit of anger.
"That's for whatever's you've done to Kyros," she says, and then seconds later pulls me into
a tight hug.
"And that's for saving my life," she finishes, and some of my confusion is placated. She pulls
away with a smile and lets out a laugh.
"I'm kidding about the first one. Honestly. I'm really glad you let us come with you guys,"
she says, brown eyes sparkling. Huh. I guess it didn't affect Andi?
"My pleasure. I'm looking forward to getting to know Andi instead of Rhea from now on," I
tell her, and she grins before giving me a playful wink.
"I'm sure you are,"
I see Titus laughing from his seat on the table, and I give him a quick wave before Kyros is
suddenly crushing me against him.
"You're so stupid," he mumbles, his voice wavering on the edge of cracking. His arms are
strong and solid, the smell of cheap soap and a tinge of saltwater filling up his being. I fight
a shudder as he pulls away that I pretend isn't there.
"Thanks," I chuckle, and he laughs a little.
"I'm glad you're alright," he tells me, and I give him a genuine smile. It's weak and small, but
present all the same.
"You too," I tell him, and his now blue eyes sparkle with joy. Okay. The eyes thing. What the
heck.
There's a sharp intake of breath behind me, and I turn to see the girl who I could swear is
my sister. She even looks like me, for Pete's sake!
"Echo Thorne?" I ask, and she raises a quizzical eyebrow.
"Ariadne. Athena and Ezekiel's youngest?" she questions, and I tilt my head slightly with
the smirk that accompanies the realization.
"The one and only,"
"No, no, sweetheart, I was the youngest first. You were still a baby bump when I met you
last," she says, and I give her a smile that's rewarded with a quick hug.
"I've found Titus already, but apparently he doesn't remember me,"
"No. But we do have a lifetime of catching up to do," I tell her, and she nods with a slight
smirk on her face.
"That we do,"
With another glance around, there's two people I don't see. Callista, for one, but with all
these reunions, I'm half expecting Thea to pop out from nowhere. If we found Felix, I'm
sure we must've found Thea, too, right?
There's an audible gasp from the entrance to the hall, and all I see is a streak of ginger as
Callista leaps into the arms of one particularly sarcastic brunette boy who's recently
regained his sanity.
She crushes her lips against him without a second of hesitation, smiling through the kiss
with the joy of their reunion.
Something's wrong, though.
Felix looks incredibly confused, and Callie soon realizes he isn't reciprocating the affection.
Her face a mask of confusion, she merely stares at him like he's just slapped her.
"I'm so sorry, and I appreciate the kiss, but who are you?" Felix questions.
You could probably hear a pin drop in the silence that follows.
"Felix, it's me, Callista," she says, and he shrugs nonchalantly to signify his continued
confusion.
"Your girlfriend?!" she questions, a tinge of panic entering her voice.
"I think I would remember having a girlfriend, sweetheart," Felix scoffs, and Callista steps
backwards like someone just slugged her in the gut. She turns and looks away from him,
her face a mask of sorrow, and runs a hand through her hair.
I nearly throw up onto the floor. After all that these two have suffered through, he doesn't
remember her.
Every single one of us are cursed.
Callista's face hardens like molten steel in a bucket of ice, and she glares over at me a few
seconds later.
I see her coming towards me, and despite the rage written across her features, I can't make
myself turn away. Or run. Or speak. Nothing. I deserve what's coming.
With a yell of fury, her fist flies towards me and collides with my face. I stagger backwards
soundlessly, while Kyros and Titus rush to calm her. I roll my neck as I straighten myself
up, watching as my best friend launches curses at my name.
There's a bruise forming on my cheekbone. It stings, but I had hoped it would hurt. I don't
know what that says about me.
"This is all your fault! You lost him, and now he doesn't even know my name! I hate you!"
she screams, and I can't even make myself respond. Whether that's because I think it's true
or because I merely can't find the words to answer, Callista takes it as indifference and
literally has to be dragged away from me by Titus and Kyros.
I barely register that Echo's next to me, her face a mask of shock that borders on disgust.
"Come on. Let's go get food," she encourages, and I follow her lamely to the buffet section of
the dining hall.
Echo takes a plate and starts tossing food onto it, taking care to load mine up, too. I've
known this girl for nearly a month, today being the first day I've actually met her, and she's
already the mom friend. Or the older sister.
We sit in the corner of the place, as far away from the mess by the entrance as we can.
"So let's start from the beginning," Echo offers, and I give her a slow nod that I can't force
myself to smile with.
So I tell her everything. I tell her about our dome, about Lockman, about Athena and
Matthias Simon and how they were always fighting. I tell her about meeting Felix and my
desire to be a doctor, and then about Thea and Titus and the guardsmen and what it was
like working in the hospital. I tell her so many stories that feel like just that: stories. My life
is so different from what it used to be that these memories feel like they're not my own.
"So no one knows what happened to Ezekiel?" she asks, and I shake my head slowly.
"No. I didn't even know he existed until two or three months ago. I don't know how Mom
managed to end up with Matthias. I'm starting to think that it was an arranged marriage, or
at least something along those lines," I say, and Echo nods for me to continue.
I tell her about meeting Mikhail, and about finding Kyros, and how we were all launched
into a world we knew nothing about.
I tell her that Athena died saving my life.
"So... she's gone?" Echo asks me, her voice quiet as she thinks over the implications of the
stories. I can only nod, but she urges me to continue anyway.
So I tell her how we lost Felix and how we fought so many of the Burning, and I tell her
about losing Thea, about nearly Burning, and then about the Refuge. I tell her about Kyros
and Kara and Garrett Riddick, and how during that time, Kyros was the only one who
treated me like I was still sane. How Titus hated me for a while. I tell her the whole story
about the cure, to which she merely laughs, tells me she was there for that, and then
motions to the area around us.
"Looks like you found it," she grins, and I give her a hum of agreement.
And then I tell her about how we were forced to run away, how I broke Mikhail's heart, and
how we made so close to New Canada before the Burning took me.
"And the rest includes you," I finish, unwilling to retell the story of what happened to
Mikhail. It's too raw to even speak of.
"And how does it feel? Being free of the Burning," she questions, and I have to think about
it.
How does it feel? It feels like I've been stripped of everything that was mine, and I'm only a
set of battered skin and feeble bones. There's no soul, no light, no life left within me.
"There's a dead girl inside me. I can feel her rattling around, her lungs choked with loss,
heart pounding like a wardrum. She used to laugh like the summer rain, but there are
demons now, and they tore it all away," I tell her, and she merely watches my fingertips
trace patterns into the cool metal of the table. Echo's expression is unreadable, a bitter
smile lightly engraved into her face. She gets it. She's there, too.
I take in a shaky breath and then decide to finish:
"Little girls who wish on stars don't last long in the desert,"
 Thirteen: C.A.N.A.A.N.

A/N: Aesthetic for Eva Stryker

"So it's your turn now," I tell Echo, who merely lets out a hum of agreement before finally
meeting my eyes.
"I don't remember much about Mom. I remember playing with Titus in the living room and
I remember Athena and Ezekiel talking in hushed voices, but then not much after that. I
remember being really confused and even more scared when we had to run, and I
remember a harsh and painful grip on my arms as the Burned dragged me into Astheneia. I
remember flashes of pain and suddenly Burned Echo was born. She called herself
something which I don't even remember at first, but as I got older I started to be able to
speak through her. Not control anything, but speak. She killed... so many people. I never got
too attached to anyone. Everything else is a mess of jumbled memories that I can't really
see clearly. I guess that's what happens when you've been one of the Burned for most of
your life," she says, and then sucks in a sharp breath.
"There was one guy. A Domer trying to find New Canada. His name was Thomas, and he
swore he would come back for me and rescue me as soon as he found a cure. But he never
came back,"
"So I told myself that I'd never let anyone in again. But you guys saved me," she says, and I
reach out and place my hand over hers.
"Hey. We're family. It's what we do, apparently," I say, and we both laugh a little at that.
Days tick by slowly. I don't spend too much time wandering about the ship, since I'm still in
a weakened kind of recovery mode. I sleep a lot, and when I'm not sleeping, I'm either with
Titus, Kyros, or Echo. Mostly Echo and Titus, since there's so much catching up to do
between the three of us. Johann spends a ton of time with Callista, while Felix and Andi stay
in their separate rooms for most of the day.
At some point, Titus and Echo dragged their mattresses into my room and we all stayed
there together, with Kyros coming in to join the conversations every so often.
I think that the water is the most impressive thing on the boat. I've never even imagined
that so much water existed, but it's there, so infinitely deep and dark blue that I could stare
at for hours. It's enchanting. I start to think I'll be addicted to the smell of salt water, or
maybe just the mystery of the reflection of sunlight on the water.
It's nearly a week later, while Kyros and I are sitting in the lounge area, when the ship's
massive horns go off at an immense volume, scaring my ghost so much that he topples off
his seat and onto the floor with a loud grunt.
I'm tempted to burst into laughter, but his miffed expression reduces it to a stifled sort of
snicker.
"Yeah, laugh all you want, Ari. You're next," he says, and I grin a little as he helps me to my
feet.
We meet up with Titus and Echo on the way out to the top deck, and run into Johann, Andi,
Callie, and Felix on the way up.
"Did we make it?" Callista asks, searching deck wildly like she's searching for a gold mine.
The others are soon following suit, but seconds later, we actually turn in the right direction.
And I think that I forget how to breath.
I've never seen that much green in my life. Ever. There's trees-trees-that I've only ever seen
in books and movies. They stretch for miles and miles and miles, rolling like the waves
themselves in the wind. There's a smell that I can't quite place that drifts from it, something
reminiscent of life; of renewal.
I realize now that this is where we're going to start rebuilding our lives. No more domes, no
more deserts. This is my clean slate.
There's a ton of people I've never seen before wandering off the ship, but I remain
cemented to the floor.
I feel someone's fingers brush against mine, and I look down to see Kyros twining his hand
into mine.
"You okay?" he asks, and I let out a somewhat watery laugh.
"Yeah. It's just... this is it, you know? The sanctuary we've been looking for," I say, and he
lets out a hum of agreement.
"I remember thinking that there'd be more of us here," I admit, voice shaking slightly, and
Kyros goes silent.
"Me too, Love. Me too," he agrees, and then tugs me towards the masses before I can let
myself feel guilty.
We're caught up in the hundred or so people who are being ushered out of the ship by the
medical staff, and I catch hold of Echo's hand as well. Her fingers tremble and her eyes are
wide, like this is triggering some memory, but she calms slightly when she sees my face.
"Oh, good," she says, somewhat teasingly, but I just give her a playful wink and focus on not
getting trampled.
We all make it off without incident onto a rocky coastline; or rather, the concrete walkway
to what looks like gates before us. Titus has to literally drag me with him twice as I nearly
get run over because I was gaping at the trees. And gape I do.
The waves lap at the rocky shoreline behind us, and all of it feels like a dream. All I've ever
seen is desert, and then a few slightly more alive places in New Canada. But this? This is
like a sanctuary of life.
The huge, metal gates slide open with a lot of hissing and groaning, and armored guards
step out of it.
"Alright, listen up! We'll split all of you up into groups, and you'll be given homes and tours
of the main parts of the island. You'll all have to join a work force of some sort, but for now,
stay where you are until we send someone your way. Families, stick together!" the head
guard shouts over his megaphone, and I realize that I've subconsciously stepped a little
closer to Titus and Kyros.
The eight of us huddle a little closer to one another, and before long, there's a girl in a lab
coat walking towards us.
She's not particularly tall, but not that short, either. Her raven hair is cut into a sort of bob,
and her dark eyes are shadowed by a pair of glasses that she seems to be annoyed with
when they slide down the bridge of her nose slightly. Her background seems to be some
kind of Native American background, like the people I'd read about in the histories. I think
everyone notices how pretty she is, especially Titus, because we all kind of just watch her
for a few seconds.
"Welcome to Canaan. My name is Eva, and I'll be your tour guide for today. Do you all know
each other already?" she questions, glancing at her clipboard quickly and then back up at
us.
"Yeah. These two are my siblings and the rest are friends," Titus pipes up, motioning
towards me and Echo and then everyone else.
"Excellent. And all of you are formerly Burned?" she asks, and apparently Titus has
nominated himself as our spokesperson.
"No. The ginger and I never Burned. Everyone else did," he says, and Eva looks surprised.
"Wow. That's never happened before. How'd you pull that off? Wait, don't answer. Another
ti... Blackwood?!" she says, eyes widening as she gapes at Johann in surprise.
"Hey, Eva," he greets, and she lets out a surprised laugh as the hug quickly.
"You haven't been back to base in what, a year now?" "Been busy. But hey, these guys are
special. I thought I'd oversee bringing them here myself," he explains, and Eva gives him a
slight nod of understanding.
"How's your mother doing?" "Oh, you know. She loves her job. She's happy,"
"Oh, good. I'm glad. How... oh. I should probably run the tour. Johann, are you coming with
us?" she asks, and he hesitates. With a smug grin, he turns to look at Callista.
"What do you say, Red? You want me to hang around a little longer?" he asks, leaning a
little too closer to her for comfort. Callista stares him down with apparent annoyance, but
despite her rolling eyes and attitude, I can tell she wants him to stay.
"I can't stop you, can I?"
"Stay, Johann," I say, and Callista whirls to look at me. Johann raises an eyebrow, but shrugs
and agrees anyway.
"Okay..." Eva interrupts, and we all snap back to give her our attention.
"Yeah. We can all go inside now," she offers with an almost false cheeriness, and we all sort
of trot after her through the gates.
The first area of Canaan isn't as impressive as the gates, as there's only a few residential
houses along a street. The houses themselves aren't anything insane; the look like the
houses in the histories rather than the dome houses, and they're all pretty nice looking.
"These are our first residential houses. There's plenty more later on, but these are mostly
for the Argos people who are only here for a few days. They like being close to the exit," she
laughs a little, and I see Felix shoot me a cheeky grin. Oh dear.
His hand shoots up before I can stop him, and Eva furrows her eyebrows in confusion
before she gestures for him to speak.
"What does Canaan stand for?" he asks, and both Titus and I breath a sight of relief. We'd
been expecting him to start cracking jokes.
"Canaan stands for the Cooperation for the Advancement of the Natural Academic Analysis
of Necrosis," she answers, and Felix counts his fingers quickly before replying.
"Doesn't that make it TCFTAOTNAAON?" he asks, pronouncing it like "tuk-fat-out-nah-on."
Titus slaps his forehead and Eva looks confused.
"Do you know how acronyms work?" she questions, not entirely unkindly. Kyros stifles a
bout of laughter, as do Titus and I. We missed Felix.
Callie still looks angry, while everyone else just looks confused.
"Moving on," she sighs, and we all continue walking. Titus keeps on staring at Eva, and I
resist the urge to make a few snarky comments.
We pass the houses and walk around a tall line of trees, and then gape at the massive
building behind it.
"This is our research facility. Most of our scientists work here to develop now technologies
and cures for more diseases," she says, and pushes the glass doors open to allow us into the
chilly lobby. There's white/gray marble everywhere, and a lot of light. The place looks as
clean as I think anything I've ever seen, and that's a lot considering I worked at a hospital.
We head up a flight of stairs as Eva rants on and on about how many lives this building has
saved.
We make it to the third floor of hallways full of laboratories when something interesting
happens. A young man probably around Echo and Titus' age walks out of a laboratory.
Where everyone in here is wearing matching blue shirts, black jeans, and a lab coat, this
guy has tossed a lab coat on over cargo pants and a back t-shirt, his dust-covered boots a
contrast to the shoes of the other scientists.
He awkwardly stumbles out of the lab, balancing a test tube rack in one hand and a beaker
in the other, all filled with some kind of liquid. He's successful up until about halfway
through the hallway when a man moving very fast moves past. The poor dude doesn't even
see him coming before they collide and the glass containers go flying in every which
direction.
Not-scientist guy lets out a wail of despair as he starts at the mess on the floor, not even
noticing the apologies from the other man.
"Hayden!" Eva calls, and he looks up at us sadly. A curly mop of brownish-blond hair is
ruffled on top of his head, and piercing blue eyes set deeper into his skull look up over. He's
tall and pretty well muscled, leading to me believe he's not particularly suited for lab work.
"Eva! And... I screwed up Doctor Sullivan's project in front of new arrivals. Oh, help..." he
stutters, wiping at his face nervously as he continues to stare at the mess.
Echo pulls out of the group and peeks inside one of the rooms, reaching in and emerging
with a broom. I catch what she's going for and take the dustpan she tosses at me, and we
both move to help the poor boy. Who is now staring at Echo like she's some sort of celestial
being.
"Here," she starts, sweeping up the glass shards into a pile before pushing them into the
dust pan.
We finish quickly, replacing the supplies to their corner before anyone can really object.
"There. That wasn't so bad, huh?" Echo offers, and the guy merely nods with a kind of
stupid grin.
"I'm Echo, and this is my sister, Ariadne," she greets, extending a hand in a manner I would
almost call harsh.
"Uh... um... Hayden. You... knew that already... because Eva pointed it out... to everyone. Hi,"
he stumbles, and shakes her hand gently.
"Hayden's working an internship for Doctor Sullivan. He's one of our best field agents, but
he wants to build up his scientific skills and so works here on his off time," Eva explains,
and Hayden gives an awkward sort of wave.
Looking at his appearance, he seems like a great field agent, but whenever he speaks and...
acts in general, all I can see is this awkward puppy-boy.
"I should... go tell Doctor Sullivan what... happened. Yeah. I'll hopefully see you all around?"
he asks, his eyes barely leaving Echo's as he waves goodbye.
"Okay, he was totally gaping at you," I tell Echo, and she rolls her eyes.
"It's whatever. I'm not concerned about it. We'll probably never see him again," she says,
brushing off the entire thing.
"Alright, so I can let you guys all go to your homes, and do the rest tour tomorrow, or we
can keep looking around a bit more," Eva offers. Titus looks at me and mouths "keep
looking?" but Felix answers for me before I have to.
"I don't know about you guys, but I'm exhausted,"
Everyone generally agrees, so Eva takes us back downstairs and into an elevator in the
lobby.
"There's a train underground to take you to the other side of the island where the
residential areas are," she explains, as we all huddle into the cabin of the train.
It takes fifteen minutes to get to what Eva says is the residential area, as we climb outside
only to continue to gape at the scenery.
There are four houses cradled in a field surrounded by mountains. It's probably one of the
prettiest things I've seen in my life. The dark gray stone of the mountains contrasts sharply
enough to the green of the ground that I can only assume to be grass. There's clumps of
purple and white flowers scattered around the scenery, and at the end of the clearing, trees
cover anywhere the mountains don't.
The houses themselves seem actually pretty big, especially if all four of these are just for us.
Light gray walls framed by dark wood make up the construction of it, with a gravel
sidewalk extending from the exit of the underground train to the four houses.
"And this is the place where you guys will be living! You guys can split up into pairs for
now, and if you want to invite in more roommates later on, you're welcome to. There's
clothes and food all in there already. Get some rest," Eva interacts, and we all gape at her
for a while.
"All of this is for us?" I ask, not really believing it myself.
"We keep track of the people we allow into Canaan and to be cured. You guys got lucky,
because we only bring in new people every ten years or so," she says, and I can't fight the
feeling that something about that isn't right. They put a cap on who gets to be cured?
"Thank you," Titus says, and Eva blushes a little bit at my brother's sincerity. Okay guys,
seriously?
"Don't thank me yet. I'll see you all again tomorrow at noon?" she offers, and everyone
agrees.
Rooming arrangements take a few minutes to get sorted out. Echo immediately claims me,
and I give no objection. Andi offers to stay with Callie, who actually agrees without rolling
her eyes. The boys are the ones who present the problems.
No one wanted to stay alone, so after quite a bit of arguing, Kyros takes his own house and
Titus joins Felix.
Echo and I walk into the house and immediately kind of flop onto the couches without
really looking around. I can see the gray and dark blue walls of the house, and the wooden
flooring that tapers off into tile where I assume the kitchen is, as well as a flight of stairs
that leads upstairs, but not much else in the living room other than the brown couches, a
coffee table, and a TV.
It's bizarre. This place feels like a dream. It can't be real, can it?
But it is. And this is our new home now.
Maybe things can actually get better, after all.
 Fourteen: Of Needed Conversations

A/N: Things are calm. For now ;)

I wake up late at night, judging from the moonlight filtering through the window, confused
and disoriented.
There's a fuzzy blanket over my shoulders, and Echo is slumped over her couch, fast asleep.
The TV is running on an almost inaudible volume, some rerun of a show from before the
earth died.
With a yawn, I pull the blanket back up to my chin and close my eyes.
Seconds later, the air fills with yelling.
I fling the blanket off and stand up with a start, sucking in a sharp gasp of pain as my back
reminds me of why I can't move too fast.
They're not loud enough to wake Echo up, but I hear them all the same. With hobbling
steps, I make my way out of the house and to the gravel outside, and quickly realize it's
coming from Kyros' house.
With panic filling up my lungs, I half-trip, half-run to my ghost's house and push the door
open. Surprisingly, it's unlocked, and the yelling is coming from upstairs. I run upstairs and
narrowly avoid a vase that collides with the wall and shatters into a million pieces.
Kyros is yelling with choked tears in his eyes as he trashes the upper floor of his house.
There are table and chairs strewn about in every which position, with broken glasses,
vases, lightbulbs, and other breakable objects shattered everywhere.
"Kyros!" I yell, hoping to catch his attention, but he completely ignores me as he continues
to lay waste to the house. Despite the repetition of his name, he continues his rampage
without so much as looking at me.
"Kyros, stop it!" I scream, and a plate shatters right near my feet as he shoves a set of dishes
off the nightstand.
My ghost slumps against the wall in a heap of bloodied hands and sobs, and my heart
breaks with his as he buries his face into his shaking hands despite the carnage he's
performed on them.
"Hey, shhh. It's okay, it's okay," I say, huddling up next to him and running my hand up and
down his back as gently as I can.
"I'm here now, Ky. It's okay," I tell him, and his shoulders shake beneath my moving fingers.
The desert broke him, too. It broke him beyond what any of us could see; it took his friends
away, it took his family, and it took his innocence.
"I'm here, Kyros. I'm here. It's okay," I hush him, and he buries his face into my shoulder
and just cries. I never thought this would ever happen, but here we are, and before I know
it, we're both curled against each other in a mess of injuries and sobs.
We don't ask each other what's wrong, and there are no questions about sanity, because
the answer is all too simple: we've both lost everything. Everything but each other.
"They deserved to be here," he finally says, his voice hoarse and choked with loss.
"Kara, and Garrett. Mikhail and Thea and your mother. All of them. And they're gone
because of us," he says, and I have to let out a sniffle before nodding a little. We both carry
burdens of guilt on our shoulders.
"Where do we go from here?" he questions, and I can only shrug weakly. I don't know. I'm
starting to think I don't deserve to go anywhere, with all the blood on my hands.
"I used to think that I was the raven king. Surrounded by darkness, but safe nonetheless. I
had a kingdom, a home," he says, and I can almost feel his sorrow as I look at his broken
face. He's got a crescent-shaped scar about the size of a quarter on his right cheekbone, and
a stitched scar over his left eyebrow. His eyes, once the color of copper, are now blue as a
crystal sky, and he's looking at me like there'll somehow be answers in my suddenly
mismatched eyes.
"I was so, so wrong," he says, his voice breaking as he finishes. My ghost sees himself as a
wanderer in the wasteland. I see myself as the sinner who dragged him out there.
"Hey, listen," I say, letting my fingers interlock with his despite the electricity that races
through my bloodstream.
"You are not alone. You're not. And I know that because I'm not alone either. I know you've
lost you family, Kyros, and none of us can ever replace that, but we will all carry you if
that's what it takes for you to be alright," I say, gripping his bloodied hands tightly as he
stares at me.
"You know, we've known each other for nearly a year now, and you still know very little
about me," he says, and I let out a sort of watery but quiet laugh.
"Yeah?" "Mmhm. You want to hear a story?" he asks, and I nod.
It's a kind of funny scene, the girl with mismatched eyes and a messed-up back, and the boy
with blue eyes and bloody hands, both curled up against each other on a floor littered with
debris and telling stories.
"I was born Ashton Kyros Bancroft to a guy named David Bancroft. I don't know my
mother's full name, but he called her Dezzie. I think they weren't married and I think I was
an accident, because I remember them always arguing and never smiling when they picked
me up. I was raised by them for three years,"
"What happened to them?" I ask, and he raises his eyebrows a little as if he's bracing
himself.
"Turns out that David was a murderer and a thief. I'm fairly certain that he killed my
mother, because when he got back one night, Dezzie wasn't with him and his hands were
covered in blood. I remember him cursing and drinking a lot that night, and the next day, he
started teach me how to fight. Three more years passed and at six years old, I already knew
how to kill a man and shoot a gun," he tells me, and I think my heart breaks for him.
"When I was seven, David took me with him on one of his thieving missions, telling me that
I was small enough to crawl into small spaces. I messed up the mission and we practically
ran home. I remember him beating me that night. It was strange, because for most of my
life before then, he kind of pretended I didn't exist. Not that night,"
"That's horrible. I'm so sorry," I say, unable to process much else.
"Hey, Love, don't cry for me," he laughs, wiping a stray tear from my cheek.
"I'm fine, I'm fine," I insist, and he grins a little before continuing.
"He tried to take me out again a few weeks later, but he was caught and banished the same
night. The Council didn't really know what to do with me, and that's when the Riddicks
showed up," he says, and smiles a little bit before continuing.
"They raised me as if I were their own son. Garrett trained me and had me help him work in
the army, and I learned how to fight then. I met Andi the same year at school, as well as my
friend Thomas," he says, and there's a few red flags that go up at that name. Echo had told
me about a Thomas. It couldn't be the same guy, could it?
"Well, Thomas, Andi and I started digging up stuff on your father and the Burning two year
ago, and we got caught six months later. Andi and Tom were banished, but because I was
Garrett's son, I was safe. I spent the next six months trying to find a way to go after them, so
when I was caught snooping again, they offered me an ultimatum: if I could find the fabled
second dome and bring back proof we'd all pretend like this never happened. If I didn't...
well, then I was doomed to the desert, and you know the rest of that story,"
"You got lucky," I tease, and his face grows somber.
"Yes, I did," he tells me, and I look away from his gaze that threatens to burn into me.
"Thank you for telling me this. You didn't have to," I say, my nervous voice barely above a
whisper. He squeezes my hand lightly, and I look up to meet his eyes quickly. I'm not
prepared for the intensity I see there.
"I owed it to you, if nothing else. I wanted to tell you," he says, and I give him a small smile.
"But hey, you should probably get some sleep," he says, standing up and helping me to my
feet. I hesitate.
"You gonna be okay here?" I ask, and he nods.
"I am now. I'll see you tomorrow, Ariadne," he says, and I give him an actual smile before
heading back to my house.
I'm woken the next morning by a knock on the door, which an already-awake Echo moves
to answer. She opens the door cautiously, and despite her confusion, she lets people in. A
set of two scientists step into our house, apologizing for the timing but moving forward
anyway.
"We're here for your medical exams and psych evals," one of the two scientists informs,
motioning for us to return to our seats. Well. Okay.
The physician heads over to Echo first, so I'm left with the psychiatrist.
"Hi, Sweetie," she starts, and I fight the urge to roll my eyes.
"How are you feeling?" she asks, and I nearly scoff. Terrible.
"Fine. A little sore, but I'm okay,"
"Johann says you lost a friend out in the Waste. Mikhail, I think it was," she states, and I feel
myself physically stiffen. No.
"Don't talk about him," I hiss, and the lady scrawls some things out on her clipboard.
"Why not? How do you feel about his death?" she insists, and I clench my fists tightly
enough to turn my knuckles white.
"I told you not to talk about him,"
"Miss Thorne, I need you to talk to me about this. Mikhail's gone." "You think I don't know
that?! How dare you!" I scream, my body moving almost involuntarily as I slam my arm
against her throat and press against it. Her eyes open as wide as the sun and she looks
terrified, but the red tinging my vision and my clenched teeth only frighten her further.
It's only when I hear Echo screaming my name that I snap out of it, leaping away from the
poor woman like I've touched hot coals.
What the heck? For a few seconds there, it was like I lost control.
"Well. I think that concludes today's exams," the psychiatrist stutters, rubbing at her neck a
little bit before standing up slowly.
"I'm so sorry, I just... I don't know what came over me..." I stammer, reaching for words that
seem to flee from me.
"You're not the first one, rest assured," she replies, writing out some more notes before
turning away.
Echo goes me a "What the heck?!" kind of look, just as the physician moves towards me
cautiously.
"Well. Let's see how you're doing physically, yeah?" the other scientist asks me, scanning
me over quickly. She lifts at my shirt slightly, and I gently push her hand away.
"There's a nasty burn there," I inform her, and she hesitates before nodding once.
She finishes her exam a few seconds later, and they both head out after informing us that
they'll give us clothes in our sizes by tomorrow.
"Go shower," Echo encourages, and I nod once before heading upstairs.
The layout of the second floor is almost identical to that of Kyros' house, with four
bedrooms in the hallway and a large bathroom at the end of it. I walk into one of the rooms
and decide to claim it as my own. Taking a black hoodie with the Canaan logo on it from the
closest and some other clean clothes that seem like they'll fit, I head into the bathroom and
shower as quickly as I can. Echo helps me bandage my back up again, and then I head
downstairs to wait for her.
I hear knocking on the door before Echo's back, and Felix bursts in when I tell him to come
in.
"Yo, your brother is high-key flirting with Eva," he gags, and I furrow my eyebrows. Titus is
what?!
My friend laughs at my confused expression as I just stare at him blankly, and then shrugs.
"You can ask him when he gets here," he grins, and I raise an eyebrow when my brother
storms in a few seconds later.
"Felix!" he yells, and the goofball points finger guns at him with a little tongue click noise.
Titus kind of flying tackles Felix from across the room, and I decide now might be a good
time to step outside.
I see Callista and Andi coming towards me, and I give them a small wave. They both see me,
but only Andi responds. Callista merely brushes past me and walks into my house, and I'm
left dumbfounded by the door.
"You'll catch flies with your mouth like that," Kyros comments as he comes to stand next to
me. I didn't even see him coming.
"Protein," I reply in the most deadpan voice I can muster. I coax a smile from him with that,
but it's gone before anyone else sees.
"You doing any better?" I ask him, and he hesitates before nodding a little bit.
"I'll get there," he assures me with a half-smile, which I only barely manage to return.
We both turn as a confused Eva steps out of Kyros' house, and my ghost laughs a little as
her expression turns to understanding once she sees us.
"Sorry! After Titus and Felix ran off, I couldn't find any of you. This would be why," she
explains, and Kyros and I try to give her polite smiles as we reassure her that it's alright.
Echo, Callista, and Andi make their way outside, and Felix come out sprinting in peals of
laughter as Titus moves to chase after him. He catches a glimpse of Eva from the corner of
his vision and stops his chase after our goofball to stand by my side.
I raise an eyebrow and look over at him, and he pretends to look confused.
"Well. Are we ready to continue?" Eva questions, and We all generally agree.
Onwards.
 Fifteen: Gwen Stevens, pt. II

"Alright. So our first stop for today is the training department," Eva tells us, as the train
pulls to a stop with a screech. The doors slide open, and a cool blast of air smacks me in the
face. It smells like bleach and sweat that's been masked over by cleaning product, and the
smell of gunpowder fill the air a little bit, too.
The staircase up is little more than just concrete, but I can tell by the giddy expression on
Kyros' face that this is going to be something familiar to him. Fight training.
And fighting it is. The staircase leads directly up to a mostly concrete building, with dark
gray stone flooring covering the entirety of the ground floor. There's a few tables here and
there with people surrounding them, and four elevators on the right and left walls. There
are lightbulbs handing from the concrete ceiling, shedding light everywhere despite the
many windows on the front wall.
A burly dude with a heavy-looking leather jacket nearly bumps into me, a tattoo running up
the side of his neck. With a kindly smile, he apologizes quickly, and then waves at Eva
quickly.
"Sam, is Johann here?" Eva asks him, and he hesitates like he's thinking.
"Yeah, I think I saw him with Hayden on the third floor," he tells her, and our guide thanks
him quickly.
"I don't like this place. I always feel like anyone here is about ready to fight," Eva chuckles
nervously, and we all kind of glance at each other. All of us have some sort of tendency to
want to pick fights at this point.
"Alright. Up we go," she says, and we all cram into the elevator that somehow manages to
keep us all in it.
"The second floor is the shooting range. Not much to see unless you want to practice your
gun skills. There are four underground floors for those training to be field agents or Argos
workers. Third floor is the sparring area, and fourth is the armory. Here we are," she tells
us, and we all step out into a huge room with concrete pillars around it every so often.
There are rows of sparring rings everywhere, filled with hardcore-looking people going at
each other.
Eva leads us down the rows, looking more than a little afraid of the whole scenario, which I
think Felix finds really amusing.
We find Johann sparring with Hayden, the awkward boy we met in the science building
yesterday. Johann's shirt is hanging on the side of the ring, exposing his tattoo-covered
torso. Seriously, he's tattooed enough to make it look like the ink is his shirt.
Hayden is across from him, in joggers and a t-shirt, with his knuckles wrapped tightly in
some sort of gauzy material.
They're both ridiculously fast and calculating to the point that I'd be afraid to ever get into
a fight with them. Fists and kicks flying, I'm just as surprised by Johann as by Hayden.
"Guys!" Eva waves, and Hayden looks over momentarily only to have Johann bodily flip him
over his shoulder. We can all hear the air rush out of the boy's lungs.
Johann lets out a borderline sadistic laugh, which sends a trickle of fear through all of us, I
think.
He helps Hayden to his feet, despite the other boy clutching at his side and gasping for air.
Johann throws his shirt back on and flings himself over the side of the ring.
"Morning! Welcome to the fight building,"
"Not actually," Eva corrects, and Johann laughs a little.
"You're too uptight, Stryker. If you guys are ever interested in becoming field agents, this is
your place," Johann informs, and Hayden half-limps up next to him.
"Yeah, just don't pick a fight with Mr. Blackwood. He literally graduated with a specialty in
injuring people," Hayden coughs, and both Echo and Kyros find this particularly amusing
for some reason.
"Oh, goodie! You're a torturer!" Felix butts in cheekily, and Johann grins a little.
"Not technically, but I guess so,"
"He is," Hayden says, and we all laugh a little bit despite the apparent darkness of the
conversation.
"Well. You guys ready to move on?" Eva questions, obviously ready to leave, and though I'm
sure Titus, Echo, Kyros, Felix and I would like to say, Andi and Callista seem ready to go, so
we all make a silent agreement to come back here later.
"You guys want to come with us?" Felix offers, and while Eva seems ready to object, our
two fight friends seem eager to come with us.
"So Johann, if you know everyone in Canaan, why are you working at Argos?" Kyros asks
him once we're all settled into the train for our next stop.
"I grew up, and my mother was one of their head field agents. Eventually, she decided she
wanted to do full time field work, so I went with her and I love it. I spend my time
monitoring New Canada and potential candidates for the cure. Besides, I'm in charge of a
huge branch of soldiers in New Canada. It works out," he explains quickly, and Kyros seems
to more or less understand his story.
"Eva, so we have a ton of questions to ask about the cure and side effects of it. I've been
trying to wait and see what happens, but who do we get to ask that?" I ask her, and she
gives me a small smile.
"That's our next stop," she informs us, but then turns with a question of her own.
"Kyros, what did you do with your hands?" she questions, noticing the bandages around his
knuckles from where he tore them on his rampage last night. My ghost stares back at her
blankly, unsure of what to say, so I jump to answer.
"He told me he tripped last night on his way to the bathroom. It was dark and he
accidentally knocked over a vase and landed on it," I rush to explain, and Kyros glances
over at me quickly before turning back to Eva.
"On your knuckles?" she questions, and Kyros shrugs.
"I'm just really unlucky," he grins, and that seems to satisfy her.
My ghost's fingers lace against mine quickly and he squeezes my hand gently before
releasing me, a small gesture of thanks that only goes noticed by the two of us.
The train stops and we all climb out, surfacing in a small pathway to the biggest building
yet. This one is mostly metal and glass, which isn't all that strange, but the top of the
building?
A spire rises from the top of it up to the heavens, high up enough that I can't tell where it
ends. Massive metal support beams reaching from the ground hold it up, and we all just
gawk at it.
"Welcome to the central base of C.A.N.A.A.N.; this is where we manufacture the cure, and
where the Commander works," Eva says proudly, as we all gape at the massive structure.
We all step inside to a bustling laboratory full of people stepping back and forth, with a
huge set of metal doors on each of the walls and a metallic, rounded table in the center of
the room that projects a three-dimensional bluish hologram.
"If you'll follow me upstairs," Eva asks, and we all sort of stumble after her, much to Hayden
and Johann's amusement.
The staircase goes up to a baloney-like floor from which one can look down and see the
first floor, but with an elevator on one wall, two doors on the other two, and a spiral
staircase in the middle.
Eva ushers us into the elevator, enters some specific code, and we begin our ascension.
The room we appear in must be the last floor before the spire starts, because one wall is
entirely glass, and from it you can see a huge part of the island, from the buildings and
research departments that seem to randomly be placed throughout the land to the clearing
that appear to have houses in them.
Perhaps most interesting are the city-like structures throughout, and I make a mental note
to ask someone about it as soon as whoever we're about to meet appears.
The room itself is entirely made of spotless white synthetic material, wit h a red carpet
covering most of the floor. Apart from the elevator on the left wall facing the window, there
are two more oval-shaped doors on the other two walls, and a luxurious looking set of
couches in the center of the room. A glass table is positioned in the center of the circle of
couches.
"Miss Stevens?" Eva calls, and one of the doors slides open with a quiet hiss. I catch a
glimpse of what seems to be a bedroom as the owner of this crazy apartment walks out.
There's a black jacket over her shoulders that she tosses aside slowly, the insignia of
Canaan's tree on the upper right arm of it. The tan dress beneath it is not overly fancy, but
it gives her an even more regal appearance. Her dark hair is pulled sideways over her neck
and cascades down her shoulders, with hazel eyes looking us over quickly. Her face is prim
and sharp, with a calculating gaze and a tight-lipped smile. She can't be older than her mid
to late thirties, but there's something in her eyes that makes her seem much, much older.
"Miss Stryker. I assume these are the newcomers you all wanted me to meet so
desperately?" she questions, motioning for us to sit down.
"Yes. Two of them never Burned, Ma'am. I thought... maybe that story would strike home
with you?" she questions tentatively, and something akin to hurt flickers through the
woman's gaze.
"Indeed," she hums, taking a particularly long time to sit down on the couch before again
motion for us to take our seats.
"I assume you all have plenty of questions. But if we may cover introductions first?" she
asks.
"Of course," Titus agrees with a smile, again nominating himself as our spokesman.
"My name is Gwendolyn Stevens. I am the current acting director of all Canaan operations,"
she instructs, and my head fills with white noise and panic. This is a joke, right?! Gwen
Stevens from the journal?! Who was alive when the world collapsed?! Who's supposedly
been dead for centuries?!
I don't hear Titus calling my name until he nearly shouts, and with a start, I snap back into
reality. Everyone's staring at me like I'm crazy. I feel crazy. A quick glance over at Kyros,
who also read the book, assures me that I'm not.
"Are you alright?" Gwen asks me, and I shake my head slowly once. "No. I read a book. A
journal. And the narrator had your name," I tell her, and her eyes widen in a bit of surprise.
"My journal? How did you find it?!" she questions, and I think I nearly faint.
"Someone in one of the domes had found the journal and copied it into a book. We read all
of it. The journal is how we found the coordinates to this place," Kyros explains for me, but
there's something in his voice that changes it to sound afraid. Terrified.
"So it appears we've already met," Gwen smiles a little, but I'm far from satisfied with this
discussion. Titus catches the glimpse of fire in my eyes and shakes his head once to tell me
to stand down.
"How are you..." I start, but Gwen interrupts me.
"Still alive? It's complicated. Suffice it to say that the Canaanite technology is far beyond
what every other institution in the living world possesses," she says, but none of us are
content with that answer.
"Are you the only one who gets to not age?" he asks, and she shakes her head.
"No. Well, right now I am, but no. The acting Director of Canaan is the only one allowed this
privilege due to the difficulty of producing the age-slowing. I've been acting Director for
over a hundred years," she says, and we all kind of silent in awe after that. A hundred years
old. She's over a hundred years old.
What the heck?!
"And your names? Ages too, if you please," she asks us, and everyone goes around to recite
what they need to.
"Johann Blackwood. Twenty-one,"
"Callista Reissman. Eighteen,"
"Felix Tyler O'Hara. Nineteen,"
"Hayden Hunter. Twenty-two,"
"Titus Si-Titus Thorne. Twenty-four," my brother says, having to correct himself at the near
slip-up of his last name. We're both still getting used to that.
"Andrea Winters. Nineteen,"
"Echo Theresa Thorne. Twenty-one,"
"Ashton Kyros Bancroft. Nineteen," my ghost says, and Felix gives him a funny look. Right.
Felix doesn't know about Kyros' collection of last names.
"Ariadne Thorne. Seven-eighteen, actually," I say, and it hits me then that I didn't even
realize my birthday has already come and gone. Other priorities, I guess.
Gwen nods twice kindly, and then proceeds to speak.
"Wonderful. But to the cure. You've all surely noticed your eyes, yes?" she asks, and Felix
assures her for the rest of us dumbstruck idiots.
"Well. That comes from the eye color change when you were Burned. Some people manage
to get the tint in their eyes back, but others get only partial color. Hence the blue, green, or
mismatched eyes," she informs us, and it makes a bit more sense now.
"Some of you will experience side effects from the Burning, like some violent tendencies,
memory loss, or flashbacks that you don't feel like are your own. This is common and can
be dealt with in time. The Burning is a disease that attacks your brain cells, replacing your
healthy ones with sick ones. When the cure takes its effect, it kills the diseased cells, and
sometimes some of the host cells. Hence the memory loss and change in behavior," she
explains, and I suddenly understand Felix's forgetfulness and my violent outburst earlier
today.
It doesn't soften the blows, but at least they make sense now.
"Now. I would love to answer more of your questions, but I have a meeting to attend. Have
Eva contact me and I'll meet with whoever at some point soon. Miss Stryker?" Gwen says,
as if she's trying to get rid of us.
We all kind of have no choice but to follow Eva back outside and into the train, the whole
path down silent. I think my people are confused and afraid, while the Canaan people are
trying to understand how we could possibly know about Gwen already.
"You said your last names are Thorne?" Eva asks Titus, Echo and I once we're all back in the
train again, and Titus nods slowly.
"Yes. Why do you ask?"
Eva hesitates, and then purses her lips before speaking.
"I was going to brush it off as coincidence, but after that episode with the Director, I'm not
sure what to believe anymore. The name Ezekiel doesn't mean anything to you, does it?"
she questions, and I think my blood runs cold.
Echo shoots up to her feet, and Titus and I slowly rise as well.
"He was our father. Why?" Titus asks, and Eva's eyes widen with surprise.
"How did we not know about you three earlier?! You know about Gwen, and your father is
one of our head scientists?! What are the chances of that?!" she says, her voice borderline
frantic.
I'm pretty sure the blackness that follows her sentence is my consciousness after I pass out.
 Sixteen: Blood and Water

A/N: This chapter needs a lot of editing, so forgive whatever mistakes are there!

"Ariadne. Ari, wake up," Kyros urges, and I feel his hand on my shoulder before my eyes are
even open.
With a sharp intake of breath, I open my eyes and sit up with a start, and Kyros has to
practically hold me down so I don't fall off the couch.
"You okay? You've been out for about an hour," he states, worry drawing creases across his
forehead as he waits for my answer.
"No. Not okay. I don't think I can handle having another existential crisis," I say, and he lets
out a stifled chuckle at that.
"Yeah, well, buckle up. They want you, Titus, and Echo outside in half an hour," Kyros says,
his tone apologetic. I cringe at the phrasing of his sentence, memories of Mikhail returning
to flood me with guilt.
"Are they going to take us to see Ezekiel?" I ask, and Kyros shrugs.

"I want to say yes, but we've just met a woman who was alive before the the desert existed
who looks like she's only in her thirties. And she says she's over a hundred years old. Which
has to mean the earth died a century ago rather than hundreds of years ago. I don't even
know what to expect anymore," he says, a hint of panic-induced humor tinging his voice.
"Oh, goodie," I groan, and my ghost gives me a rueful smile before helping me to my feet. I
step outside and find a very worried-looking pair of siblings waiting for me.
"Okay. Please don't do that again," Titus huffs, and I give him a small smile.
"Sorry,"
"You guys ready to go?" Echo questions, and Titus and I agree. We all turn to leave, but
Kyros catches my hand and turns me to look at him. The lighting that races up from the
hand he's holding isn't lost on me.
"Hey. Whatever happens, I'm here if you need to talk after, okay?" he says, his gaze almost
bleeding with sincerity.

"Thanks, Ky," I tell him, and he smiles a little bit.

"We look out for each other, Ari. It's what we do," he tells me, as if that statement is the
simplest thing in the world. Before I can sit there and think twice about it, I lean forward
and hug him quickly, before turning and trotting after my siblings.
Eva is waiting for us at the train, so we all walk in without a word and take a seat.
It must be fifteen minutes later when we stop, and I feel like my heart might beat out of my
chest. We're going to meet my real father. Of the three of us, Echo is the only one who
remember even a little bit of what he's like.
We step outside of the train and head up the step quickly, finding ourself in one of the small
cities I saw from Gwen's apartment. From one of the apartment building steps a man who
resembles the three of us enough that there's no doubt in my mind about who he is. Ezekiel.

Tightly curled hair that's as dark as night is cut short on the top of his head, with sharp,
striking amber eyes that match my brother's set into his skull. He looks like he hasn't
shaved in a while, and the black t-shirt and jeans that he's wearing are covered by a white
lab coat that falls down to his mid-thighs. He stands like he's ready to fight a war, fists
clenched tightly at his side, shoulders back, and chin up slightly. Understandably so,
consider my mother's pale skin, he's darker than the three of us, and we can all do nothing
more than gape.
He looks exactly like the hologram Kyros and I had found back at the Refuge, with quite a
few years added to him.
He sees us standing there and kind of freezes, his eyes wide and jaw slack as he recognizes
us immediately. Slowly, as if he's waking from a dream, he takes a few wary steps towards
us, and none of us really know how to react.
This is our father, the man Athena Simon loved. A man we've never met.
Yet for some reason, I have to fight tears of joy as he comes towards us.
"I never thought I'd ever see a day like this," he manages to choke, looking all of us over
with eyes brimming with unshed tears. He has an accent that resembles Hayden's a little
bit, with a slight blurring of his r's.
Echo is the first one to break, throwing herself into our father's arms in a mess of sobs that
seems uncharacteristic for her. Ezekiel holds onto her tightly, as if he's afraid that letting
her go will mean never seeing her again.
"Hi," she greets with a shaky voice, and he lets out a watery laugh.
A few seconds later, she releases him, wiping at the tears that are trickling down her
cheeks. Ezekiel's composure has somewhat faded away, and it comes across like that
doesn't happen often.
"Titus," Ezekiel breaths, and my brother pulls him into a tight embrace.
"I think I'm starting to remember things, now," Titus chokes, and our father laughs a little.
"That's a good thing," he assures, and my brother takes a step back.
My turn.
"Ariadne. Last time I saw you, you were little more than a bump on Athena's stomach," he
tells me, and he earns a watery laugh and a hug.
"I don't have a last time I saw you," I say with a laugh, and he chuckles a little once we pull
apart.
We're all crying now, amidst grins and smiles that come from somewhere in the depths of
our souls. It's weird; weirder than anything I can really describe. Titus seems incredibly
happy, as does Echo, and while I am too, they're a lot more excited than I am. We're all
more than a little wary. The desert has taught us to be such, but they've got memories to
cling to. Not me.
I realize that at some point, Eva just slipped away, but it's alright.
"We have a lot of stories to swap," Ezekiel tells us, and there's general agreement from all
sides. How deep the stories will go, well, that depends on my siblings.
"All I know is that you three and your mother were sent into the desert a month before I
was. What happened?" he asks, leading us down the street and into what looks like a
coffeeshop.
"We don't exactly know," Titus says, and I nod in agreement. Ezekiel raises a quizzical
eyebrow.
"I wasn't born and Titus doesn't remember," I say, with enough cynicism to earn a quick
glare from my elder brother.
"And I was in the desert. With unpleasant company," Echo says, a tinge of bitter laughter in
her voice.
"You grew up with the Burning?" he asks Echo, who nods with a rueful smile. Something
flickers across his face that at a first glance seems like rage; I realize a few seconds later
that it's guilt.
"I'm so sorry," he offers, as if that would make amends, and she shrugs casually.
"I'm alive, aren't I?"
"Of course. Continue, then," he tells me, and I nod once.
"We grew up with Mom married to the head guardsman of the dome. His name was
Matthias Simon. Honestly, I'm starting to think they forced her to marry him to keep her
quiet. It would explain so much about their relationship," Titus tells him, and thought
Ezekiel's face falls a little bit, a couple of lightbulbs go off in my head. That would make a lot
of sense. I'm a little cautious at Titus telling him this, but something in Ezekiel's eyes gives
off something trustworthy.
"So she's remarried?" he questions, something similar to hurt coming through his voice.

"Was," is all I say, and that's when Ezekiel's face sinks.

"She... she's gone?" he asks, voice breaking a little.
"She died helping us escape into the desert," I choke, and he nods solemnly once.
"Once I heard you three were alive, something in me... I hoped that maybe..."
"We all did," Echo assures him, and we all lapse into silence for a few minutes.
The rest of the time is filled with a lot of kind of useless things: favorite colors, favorite
foods, so on and so forth. At one point, Titus mentions the Refuge, and Ezekiel stiffens a bit
when he mentions McGregor. We decide not to question it.
"So how'd you end up in Canaan?" Titus finally asks, voicing the question that had been on
all of our minds. Ezekiel hesitates, as if he doesn't want to talk about it, but starts anyway.
"They threw me into the desert a month after you guys were banished. I got completely lost
within the first week and turned into one of the Burned not long after. Argos found me at
the gates of New Canada when I had a spell where I overpowered Burned me, and they
quickly brought me here. I've been searching the records of all the existing domes for the
past eighteen years, but I never found an Athena Thorne. Your names weren't even in the
roster for your dome, and I'm assuming it's because Lockman knew someone would try to
come find you all. I've been continuing my research on the Burned here in Canaan since
then," he explains, and more gears start turning in my head. The fact that Lockman kept our
names out of the dome headcount does explain a lot.
From then on, our time together is filled with stories. Childhood tales of Echo and Titus
from Ezekiel, and Titus and I from my brother. I laugh and smile more then than I have
together in the past few months, and it feels good to actually be relaxed for more than five
minutes despite my caution.
The sun is setting by the time Eva finds us and informs Ezekiel that he has a meeting to
attend right now.
"Oh. Well, surely we still have more to discuss," Ezekiel asks, and we all agree quickly.
We've just gotten our father back and anything we can learn about him, we'll embrace.
It's dark by the time we all get back to our homes, and our friends greet us eagerly. There's
a sort of unspoken vow of silence between us Thornes for the time being, since we don't
know where all of this is going to go, so we appoint Titus as our spokesperson.
"He was... everything we could had dreamed of. Everything that Matthias wasn't," Titus
says, and that seems to satisfy our ragtag family. That's the weirdest part for me; these
people have become my family, not Athena or Ezekiel anymore. The concept of being
reunited with our father is so strange that I don't know if I can even fully stomach it.
The sun is set, but none of us are particularly tired, so we all more or less retreat to our
separate houses.
Echo and I spend some time talking about Ezekiel, and we decide to invite Titus to come
hang out for a while.
The night air outside is chilly but feels good against my skin, and the crunch of the gravel
pathway only adds to the lovely nighttime feeling that I'd never had anywhere else.
The door to Titus' house is somewhat ajar, and so I can hear the set of voices coming from
it. Kyros and Titus. I can hear water running upstairs, so I assume Felix must be upstairs.
My brother and my ghost are talking in somber, somewhat hushed voices, a hint of
bitterness tinging Titus' tone.
"Kyros, you can't expect her to be okay so quickly. Mikhail's death is hurting her more than
any of us," Titus mutters, and I hear Kyros scoff a little.
"I don't expect her to be okay. I just want to make sure we're all there for her,"
"Yes, but we both know how you feel about her. If you get too close to her, and I know you
will, things might not end too well. My sister is strong, but she's covered in fault lines
ushered in by the desert and the skywalker. She's pushing everyone away right now, or at
least is about to start pushing," Titus huffs, and I hear Kyros suck in a sharp breath.

Okay, what?! Kyros?! Feels about me?!

Half of me wants to brush it off, and the other half wants to cling to those words. Half
number one emerges victorious.
"I'm willing to fight for her to be alright," Kyros says, his voice emerging resolute and firm. I
can hear Titus scoff.
"You don't get it, do you? There's nothing left for her to burn. Nothing left but you," my
brother explains with a huff, his voice sounding stressed and tired.
"Then I'll go out in a blaze of glory," Kyros assures him quickly, but Titus is quick to reply.
"You don't understand. She's changed. She walks with darkness dripping off her shoulders.
I've seen ghosts brighter than her soul,"
Well. He's not wrong.
"We've all changed, Titus. We're not kids anymore," Kyros refutes, his voice much more
somber than before. Titus lets out a defeated sigh.
"I just don't want either of you to get hurt," he admits, and Kyros lets out a heavy sigh.
"Me neither," he agrees, and all is silent for a while.
"Hey look. We left the door open," Kyros laughs a little, and I take that as my cue to take off
running as quietly as possible.
I debate about talking to Echo about this, but the mention of the skywalker's name has
brought with is a new wave of guilt. It's like a wound that keeps on coming back. My
messed-up back is a reminder of such.
Titus isn't wrong. Ever since I've been cured for the Burning, it's been harder and harder to
feel joy, let alone show it.
He wasn't mine and he isn't mine to grieve over. He is not all I have.
But his blood stains the lines of my hands without ever touching them.
My demons are no longer faceless. They look like scruffy blond hair and a grin that could've
made flowers grow and eyes as blue as the sky that used to be constantly filled with
mischief.
The tears come before I can stop them.
"You must be haunting me," I whisper to the sky, hoping that somewhere up in the heavens,
Mikhail hears me. A thunderbolt claps in the distance as if to laugh at my empty threats.
You are alone, alone, alone, cries the ever-sadistic sky above, laughing down at the broken
girl through strikes of lightning. There is nothing left for you to burn.
Nothing left but him.
 Seventeen: Of Happy Days

A/N: Aesthetic for Hayden Hunter.

I wake up earlier than Echo the next morning, stepping out of the ridiculously comfortable
bed that I find in my room upstairs.
Half of me is tempted to pull the blankets back up over my head and pretend there isn't a
life outside, and though I soon fall asleep, my sister isn't content with my slumber.
It must be at least an hour later when I feel the sheets ripped off of my bed and cold air
seep into my skin.
"I have an idea," Echo informs me, and I let out a groan akin to one of despair as my sleep-
filled eyes force themselves to open.
"Oh, good," I mutter, and I feel the bed dip slightly as she takes a seat by the foot of it.
"No no, you'll like this one. I promise," she tells me, and I'm inclined to believe her. My
sister is typically a more stoic creature who smiles even less than I do, so her sunny mood
is a change that seems borderline uncharacteristic.
"Alright, alright. Go ahead," I chuckle, and she nods quickly.
"You, Andi, and I are going to go explore Canaan's city area. I'm tired of being surrounded
by boys," she jokes, and I raise a skeptical eyebrow.
"What about Callie?"
"Oh. I'm assuming Titus didn't tell you? Johann's leaving this afternoon to go back to Argos,
and Callie and Felix are going with him to say goodbye,"
"Really?" I ask, surprised that Felix would agree to go with them. I mean, Callista and
Johann have been around each other a lot since we've gotten to Canaan, but Callie and Felix
have been avoiding each other since the incident on the ship.
"Yeah, and we've barely gotten to see Andi since she's been back. Besides. You need to get
out more," she says with a slight smile, and she receives a pillow to the face in return.
Despite this, I don't think it's the worst idea ever. Granted, I grew up around Callie and
Felix, but Echo's right. We need some sort of sense of normalcy in our lives.
"I like it. Just let me shower first," I tell her, and she agrees with a tiny grin.
Twenty minutes later, the three of us manage to pile into the train without really knowing
what we're doing. Without Eva there to guide us, we're sort of running blindly. Echo
wanted to wait to figure out what was going on, but Andi, being the goof that she is, decided
it'd be more fun if we kind of just rolled with whatever punches were thrown our way.
That's where we find ourselves almost a half our later: still sitting on the train because
we've gotten off at seven wrong stops so far.
"Honestly, you'd think they'd mark the stops or something! All I see are these weird
squiggly line patterns on the wall we exit on. I have no idea where we are," Andi huffs,
sounding annoyed but not the least bit concerned.
I glance over momentarily just in time to see Echo groan and bury her head into her hands.
The train slows to a halt, and Echo and I don't even bother getting out this time. Andi, on
the other hand...
Our blonde friend shoots to her feet and jogs outside, and I make sure to place a hand over
the door so we don't accidentally lose her.
I hear a male voice protesting from outside the train, and seconds later, Andi drags a very
confused Hayden into the car.
"I don't... why are you... dragging me? You're... what?!" he stutters, and Andi promptly sits
him down. He's wearing training clothes again, meaning he was either coming from
training or heading towards it.
"We wanted to go and explore one of the towns, but we have no idea what we're doing,"
Andi quickly explains, and Hayden kind of opens and closes his mouth a few times before
furrowing his eyebrows.
"So I'm... like, a tour guide?" he asks, glancing over at Echo and I with a sort of defeated
expression in his gaze.
"No, Hayden, you're fine. Andi!" Echo sighs, and I have to stifle a laugh. Since we've been
here, watching Echo and Andi interact is always pretty funny, mostly because of the stark
contrast between them. Half their friendship is built on shared experiences and
understanding, the other on the amusement they take in each other. Where Andi is
footloose and full of humor, Echo is collected and borders on being cold.
The blonde merely continues to explain to poor Hayden about how desperate Echo is for
coffee and how she'll die without it, and how he wouldn't want to fall for murder charges,
would he? Echo only glares at Andi like she's glaring at a child with too big of a mouth, and
Hayden just looks terribly confused. This poor boy...
"I don't... I'm going to get in... more trouble..." he sighs, looking incredibly distressed as
Andi's babbling doesn't stop.
The train reaches the next stop and Hayden merely stands with a defeated sigh and
motions for us to leave.
The four of us clamber out quickly enough, managing to get off just before the doors close.
Hayden looks defeated but not as upset as I would have thought, and I'm somewhat
grateful for that. It'll be good to have Hayden with us for multiple reasons, ranging from
learning more about our new friend to not getting lost.
The little city/town we emerge into is small but has its fair share of large enough buildings,
not the least of which is a tall steel, glass, and concrete building that looks ever so slightly
ominous. Hayden notices my curiosity and kindly offers an explanation.
"That's where they hold the field training. A bunch of people go into that building and go
through a bunch of different trainings and tests until they're qualified for field work," he
tells me, a hint of pride in his voice.
"And you've been through it?" Echo asks, a little bit surprised at the actual function of the
building. Or maybe at Hayden. Ha. As if.
"I, um... well, yes. I... help lead them now," he says, a hint of a blush creeping over his cheeks
as he suddenly looks down at his feet.
Okay. We all definitely underestimated Hayden.
"Hayden, that's so cool!" Andi chimes in, genuinely happy for the awkward boy. He gives
her a small but grateful smile before waving his hand in the general direction we're
supposed to go in.
"There's a few, uh.. restaurant place, uh, things around... that one's a coffee shop... this one
is a research building... I don't know why I told you that. No one wants to visit a paperwork
building, Hayden," he says, muttering the last part to himself under his breath as if he's
disappointed in himself.
"It's all good, Hayden. The coffee shop sounds great. None of us have had breakfast yet," I
assure him, and his eyes light up a little bit at the affirmation.
"Okay. After breakfast, I can get my car and show you guys some of the cool places here! I
mean... if you want to, that is..."
We all get excited about that. Cool places sound like a lot of fun.
"That sounds amazing, Hayden, but what about your job?" Echo asks, a hint of concern
tinging her voice. Oh, right. Andi dragged him away from whatever schedule he had.
"Oh... I mean, it's not mandatory... I think I can call Doctor Sullivan. He'll let me take a day
off... I hope..." he says, as we all step into the coffee shop together. Echo grins a little as
we're greeted by a blast of cool air, the smell of coffee and pastries, and some quiet music,
and I join her. It's somewhat comforting to be able to return to some sense of normality,
even if we've only been here for a few days.
There's a little nagging in my voice that tells me I should feel guilty for these short
moments of happiness, that Mikhail should be here instead of me, but I shove those
thoughts away. It's about time I go at least a day without mourning.
We all make our orders, and despite our protests, Hayden insists on paying, so we all give
in and find our place around a small table near the corner.
Andi's wearing a grin on her face that I think is genuine for the first time since we've been
here, and Echo is laughing as the four of us mess around until we all finish our food.
I can't remember the last time I was this happy. We're all singing along to some stupid song
none of us know the words to as Hayden drives us to wherever his surprise is, resulting in a
lot of gibberish and a lot of laughter. Echo's wearing a grin that could probably make
flowers grow.
It's surprising how pretty the scenery of Canaan's island is. There are mountains and trees
and long, winding roads that weave their way through the cliffs and forests and creeks. The
sun dances its way through the foliage with golden threads that only fully shine through on
the road itself.
The other strange thing is the animals. While I was with the Burning, I had discovered that
the desert still held some creatures, but they were sickly and some even furless form the
lack of water and from the former radiation. These animals are the creatures from the
histories; birds of scattered colors and sweet songs like Apollo's harp itself, and deer and
foxes and other creatures that I never even knew still existed. Echo, Andi and I gape at them
like some ethereal being has gotten hold of us, which amuses Hayden. He probably sees
them all the time.
The bodies of water that we see are another thing. Waterfalls, lakes, ponds, creeks, streams,
and rivers are all closer to myth than reality for us, so seeing them in reality is more than a
little bit jaw-dropping. Rocky cliffs and trees have the same effect.
In general, it feels like we're living in some sort of dream.
It takes about a half hour to get to Hayden's surprise spot, and he parks at the edge of a
short cliff from which a small but rushing waterfall cascades.
"I'll bet you guys have never been cliff-jumping before," Hayden grins a little, and Andi
hesitates.
"We'll get your car soaked, Hayden. We're all in jeans and whatnot," she says, and the boys
face falls as realization dawns across his features.
"Oh... I mean, we could do something else, it's not that big of a deal..."
"Are you kidding me?! Of course we're staying. Andi, quit being a princess and kick your
shoes off. Let's do this thing," Echo interrupts, already tossing her shoes and socks onto the
rocky surface and approaching the edge. Hayden's face lights up excitedly, and he quickly
tells us to not be afraid before he launches himself off the edge with a yell of joy.
A few seconds later, there's a loud splash as he hits the water below, and we all peek over
the edge to see him swimming towards the edge.
"Who's next?!" he yells from the bottom, and Echo glances at me for reassurance.
"Me, then you, then our resident princess?" she asks, and Andi lets out a slightly miffed
snort. Nevertheless, I agree, and seconds later, my sister has flung herself off the edge of the
cliff.
I suck in a sharp breath as a chilly breeze suddenly tickles over my face. It's not exactly the
warmest of days, and the rock of the cliff is almost icy against the bottoms of my bare feet,
but I find myself not caring in the least. The cold is a foreign but welcome change to the
heat of the desert.
The water ripples gently away from he waterfall, and both Hayden and Echo have seated
themselves on a rock near the edge of the river, and I glance back at Andi before letting out
a heavy sigh.
Seconds later, I sprint off the edge and am floating for a few terrifying seconds, the wind
beating against my face as the water below comes closer and closer.
The river itself is like ice. The frigid water envelops me before I can fully register that I've
hit it. A few seconds later, I realize I don't know how to swim. Great. I don't think I've ever
seen this much water in my life, but I'd rather not die in it.
How did people do it in the movies?
I start kicking my legs and swinging my arms furiously, and before I know it, I break to the
surface with a gasp.
Echo lets out a cheer that's follow by Hayden's laughter, and I quickly get the hang of
moving and manage to doggie-paddle to shore.
We lose track of time from then on out, spending at least another hour or two jumping and
climbing back up only to jump again.
Our next location is near a mountaintop that over looks what I immediately note as the
prettiest place on earth. There are trees are far as the eye can see, rolling over valleys and
mountains and covering the earth in a carpet of green.
"I like to come here whenever I need to think. It's quiet and peaceful and beautiful. I like it
here," Hayden breathes, a look of serenity on his face.
We eat lunch back at the city, and explore more of Canaan for the rest of the day.
We all go to sleep at the end of the day with our hearts full and with smiles on our faces.
The first happy day in a long time.
Eighteen: Of Leaving and of Starting Again

A/N: Andi Winters aesthetic.

There's a slight heat on my face when I wake up in the morning, and I find a particularly
bright ray of sun shining on my face and nearly blinding me.
With a groan, I manage to stretch over and pull the blankets off of half my body, and I
slowly move myself to a sitting position. There's a slight chill that races up my fingers when
they brush against a glass of water, and I nearly knock over the lamp as I blindly slap
around the nightstand.
There's something unfamiliar, though; a folded-up piece of paper laid gently on my desk
with an all-too familiar silver band on top of her. Callie's ring. Felix and I had coined our
money together to buy that ring for her fourteenth birthday.
My heart rises to my throat and I suddenly find it hard to breath. There are a million ideas
of what could have happened running through my head, and none of them end well.
I knew she was angry, as she had full right to be, and I had been trying really hard to give
her space, but... would she have taken it this far?
With trembling fingers, I reach forward carefully. Pushing the ring ever so slightly onto the
beginning of my thumb, I unfold the small paper and begin to read.
Dear Ari. Or whoever will read this.
I'm sorry, but I can't stay here anymore. I tried so, so hard not to hate you, and though I don't,
I'm still really angry.
Seeing him, seeing everything falling into place again... for all of you, it's perfectly fine. You
have Kyros and he has you, Titus found Eva, Felix is fine, Echo and Andi seem to be alright, and
above all, you have your father.
Not me. I can't fix the hole that's left in me now. I have no family, and I barely have friends. At
least, not anymore.
To be quite honest, the only person I feel comfortable around is Johann. Which is why I'm
leaving. I'm going to work for Argos now, and I don't know if I'll ever be back. Please don't
come after me and don't try to convince me to stay. I'm to going to. It's time to start
rebuilding, I can't rebuild on top of broken foundations. Roots run deep, and when those roots
are toxic, the fruit is, too.
We'll meet again someday, hopefully under better circumstances, when I'm not bitter and
you're not broken. You and Felix were the best parts of my life until we realized that the world
actually does still spin. Now, I have to find a way to be okay.
I hope that you do, too. I wish you the best, Ariadne.
-Callista Reissman
I cover my mouth with the back of my hand as the tears drip silently down my face, but I
shake uncontrollably as I sob.
She's gone. My best friend, the girl who I grew up with, is gone, and part of it is my fault.
Echo walks in just then, and I glance up to meet her gaze for a few seconds before I hand
her the letter. She reads over it as I cry about it, and once she finishes, she merely hugs me
tightly against her without another word.
I think today must be the most unlucky day of my life, because an all-too familiar off-key
singing voice suddenly fills the air. Felix. Of course. Just my luck.
"Ari?" he calls, and Echo glances at me to gauge my reaction.
"Ari? I've been hanging out with Hayden and we had a brilliant idea!" he yells, and I let out
a quiet groan.
"I'll be right down!" I call, and Echo cracks a small smirk.
"Can you entertain him?" I ask her, and she nods once.
"Sure. I'll make sure he doesn't break anything," she assures me, and almost on cue, there's
a loud crashing noise from below.
"That wasn't me!" Felix yells, and Echo rolls her eyes before trotting back downstairs.
I quickly splash some water across my face, throw on some more acceptable clothes, and
trot downstairs before any more destruction can ensue.
Felix is upon me before I can even fully register he's there.
"Yo, so here's my idea, okay? Get this: we all join field agent training." he grins, and I give
him a blank stare. Okay, what?
"Felix, I don't..."
"No, no, no, hear me out. Titus told me he's thinking about going to spend a few weeks with
y'alls dad, so the rest of us have nothing to do. Even if we don't become field agents, we can
know a bit more about how Canaan works. Besides, I don't know about you, but I don't
want to spend the rest of my life living here with nothing to do but plod onwards with life.
We tried that in the dome, and I don't think we can ever go back. Personally, I want to do
something useful with myself," he tells me, his tone becoming more somber as he explains
his idea.
Not gonna lie, it's not a bad one. One problem:
"No, Felix, you're craving for an adrenaline rush. We all are. But I like it," I tell him, and
Echo jumps to agree.
"I want in. At the very least, we have something important to do for a few weeks,"
"Okay. I'll go assemble the avengers," Felix laughs, and he's sprinting out of the door before
I can fully register that he's gone.
"Did he says Titus is taking a leave of absence?" Echo questions, and I freeze. Oh shoot.
Titus? Why?
"We should talk to him about that," my sister informs me, and I nod slowly. Yeah. We
should.
Kyros and Andi walk in together, both laughing at whatever joke one of them had cracked.
There's something sharp that pangs within my conscious, but I ignore it and smile at both
of them. Felix and Titus walk in a few minutes later, and I raise an eyebrow at my brother
as our eyes meet. His nose crinkles a little as he gives me an apologetic face, and that's that.
Great. Just great.
To my surprise, everyone agrees almost immediately.
So that's how we find ourselves crammed into a tiny room in the training building with a
bunch of wide-eyed kids our age that stumble around blindly as we place our few
belongings on the crammed bunks of the barracks.
The room itself is incredibly crammed, with maybe fifteen to twenty girls crammed into a
maybe twenty or thirty foot long room, bunks against all of the walls and in a row in the
middle. Echo quickly claims the lower bunk of one of the corner beds, so I take the top and
Andi take the lower bunk of the bed next to ours. The mattresses are at best five inches
thick, with thin, rough gray sheets barely covering a well-worn pillow. There's a door on
the left side of the room that leads to a single toilet, a beaten-up sink, and two showers that
are barely large enough to stand in.
Our guide, when she had shown us in, had merely explained that these conditions are
glamorous compared to what we will usually get in field work, and to get used to it. Most of
the newbies had groaned and complained about the accommodations, but for some odd
reason, I find it almost comforting. Our house had felt almost too nice. We'd been used to
gritty sand everywhere on our barely-sanitary beds and housings in Astheneia, so this is
fine. It's clean, and that all that really matters.
"Callie would've hated this," I tell Echo with a slight smirk, and she gives me a half
apologetic smile.
"I'll bet. If it's of any comfort to you, I'm surprisingly okay with this," she tells me, and I
laugh a little. Echo has been my lifeline for these past few days. It's been good.
"I'm excited. Tomorrow, we get to actually beat people up again. I've kind of missed
fighting," she says, and I can hear a quiet gasp from the girl who's sharing a bunk with Andi.
Echo stifles a snicker, and I grin a little before letting myself drift off to sleep.
There's a loud banging on the bunk of the poor girls near the exit, and we're all jolted
awake roughly. The clock on the wall read 3:26 A.M., and I barely manage to blink away
enough sleep to clear my vision before what feels like a gun is shoved into my hands.
"Everyone up! Main hall, now!" the gruff male voice yells from the door, and a bunch of half-
asleep girls head towards the door. My hands shake as images of the Burning in the desert
flit through my brain, but I clench my teeth and keep on walking.
"We're in our pajamas!" one girls protests, and the angry-looking blond guy who woke us
up looks her over quizzically.
"Is that a problem?"
"No, sir," she quickly agrees, once she catches the ferocity in his glare.
I realize I few seconds after we've entered the hallway that the weapons in our hands are
paintball guns, which explains the pod thingie attached to the top of it. We're handed
goggles and a bandana of either blue or orange and roughly shoved into a massive room
littered with various obstacles and barricades.
I tie the rough blue bandana around my wrist as soon as I realize it's my identification, and
start running as soon as the hisses of compressed air from the guns begins.
They're testing us. Wether it's for combat readiness or skill, I don't know, but my body is
already working on its own. There's red in the corners of my vision, and though my hands
shake, my aim doesn't. This is no longer a bunch of kids getting ready to train for some test;
I see screaming, growling Burning people with guns in the desert, their bared teeth
gnashing as I fire deadly shot after deadly shot at them.
It's only when Echo places a hand on my shoulder that I snap out of murder mode.
"It's training, Ari," she whisper-shouts, and I nod slowly.
I should be afraid of the easy way I slipped into kill mode, but I'm not. I'm not sure if that
terrifies or excites me.
I look around and almost laugh. Everyone is in their pajamas, with some girls in tank tops
and shorts and some of the boys in nothing but their underwear. It would be comical if it
weren't for the poor souls so stricken with fear that they merely huddle against the walls.
"Boo," someone says in a deadpan voice, and I turn to see Kyros and Felix behind me. Both
of them have got blue bandanas around their foreheads.
"Where is your shirt?!" Echo asks Kyros, and my friend is about to answer when Felix butts
in.
"You look beautiful, Ky, don't listen to her,"
Echo gives me a look and waggles her eyebrows suggestively, and despite my eye roll,
there's a blush that creeps up the sides of my neck.
"Ari and Kyros, stop gawking at each other and start shooting," Felix instruct as a paintball
whizzes past our heads, and I drop to my stomach nearly without thinking. Weeks of
training and practice for scenarios such as these immediately pop into my head.
Kyros and Echo protect Felix and I as we shoot anyone who comes too close. None of us
find Andi, so I assume she's either somewhere else or on the other team.
Option two proves to be correct.
"Heads up, soldier boy!" she yells, and suddenly, she's landing in our midst with one rifle in
each hand. Felix and I manage to roll over the barrier we'd been hiding behind and quickly
fire off several shots at our friend, but not before she nearly covers both Echo and Kyros in
colorful splatters.
"That's gonna leave a mark!" my ghost groans, and Andi laughs as the three of them are
ushered out of the arena by the staff of whatever mess this is.
"You and me, Simon," Felix grins, and I give him a half hearted smile as we scramble back to
somewhere safe.
"It's Thorne, now," I correct him, and he quickly lets out a scoff.
"Tomato, tomatoe. Same difference. Duck," he says, casually sidestepping to avoid a
whizzing bullet. His coolness in situations like this is more than a little surprising, but
either he doesn't realize how strange his behavior is, or doesn't care.
There's a snapping sort of sound as another paintball smacks into something plastic behind
is and sends a crack running up the surface. Felix lets out a borderline maniacal laugh as
some poor soul decides she should try to jump us.
"Ariadne?" Felix questions momentarily, flinging his gun over his shoulder and striking a
comical pose.
"I think I'm enjoying this a bit too much," he laughs, and despite my rolling eyes, I still
smirk a little at my friend's lightheartedness. Somehow, he's kind of okay, or at least is
acting like he is.
"I think you are, too," I inform him, and he grins a little bit before taking off into one of the
elevated huts near us.
I think we lose complete track of time, because before we know it, winners are declared
and we're hurried out of the paintball arena.
"So... that's it? What was the point of that?" Felix questions, and I shrug nonchalantly. I
don't particularly care.
I half-expect us to be shoved into our rooms again, but I turn out to be wrong. Instead,
we're led into a huge room with table all along them, and ushered to sit down. The only
sound that fills the air is the nervous chattering of the pour, paint splattered souls that
signed up for this genius idea.
There's a sudden blast of noise as heavy ropes slam onto the tables we're sitting at, and
both Felix and I spring to our feet. Some of the kids scream and duck for cover, but others
stand and prepare to fight.
There's the squealing sound of someone sliding down a rope, and one person per table is
suddenly looking down at us curiously.
There's a black cloth mask over all of their faces, but they quickly remove them and shove
them into their belts or pockets. I finally catch a glimpse of Andi, Echo, and Kyros from
across the room, with Hayden on top tor their table casually. The awkward boy is
noticeably less awkward, standing confidently and even in a somewhat bored manner as he
paces around the table slowly.
Our table is trampled by a scary-looking blond with amber eyes and a gun at her hip.
"Alright, welcome to day one of field training!" someone yells from above, and I recognize
the man from somewhere.
"My name is Samuel Pavlov, and I'm the head of operations here in Canaan. For those of you
planning to transfer to Argos after all this, you'll be answering to Sarah Blackwood. All of us
answer to Director Stevens. But I'm getting ahead of myself. You will undergo exactly three
months of in-house training before transferring to shadowing for at least a month. The
trials follow that, and only then will you be cleared for work. Any questions?" he says, and a
cocky young man raises his hand. Brave. Or stupid. Felix's sarcastic comments that come
from under his breath would indicate he thinks it's option two.
"Go ahead," Samuel urges, and the guy grins.
"What happens if we have to take a leave of absence?"
"If it's for anything other than an emergency, you can forget your dreams of making it to the
field,"
"You will all be required to report back here today at 6 am. What you do between now and
then is up to you." the girl on our table barks, and almost everyone agrees quickly.
"But we didn't even get to sleep enough! We barely have an hour!" one girl protests, and
Samuel lets out a barking laugh.
"Well, then enjoy your hour-long nap," he grins wolfishly, and the girl is quickly silenced.
Let the games begin.
 Nineteen: Of Time and Happy Things

A/N: Okay this chapter is half-filler, half just everyone being adorable to their own
degrees. Enjoy this one, you guys. It's long overdue. :)

The next couple of weeks blur together into a mess of fight training, sharpshooting, and
middle-of-the-night activities that serve to prepare us for the unexpected. Early on, we
were cautioned to keep our paintball guns with us at all times, and less than half of the
group took them seriously. My friends and I know better, since we've been in several of the
situations they're preparing us for.
Training is much like what I went through with Ky at the Refuge. My friends and I are
already much more advanced than several of the new trainees, giving us an tiny advantage:
my friends and a couple others get to finish training a month before everyone else, since
our skills are already past the beginner stage. Kyros and Echo especially excel at everything
thrown their way, and my sister's deadliness in combat grows to terrify me a little. I've
seen her be quick and skillful enough to flip and easily defeat full-grown men twice her size.
Hayden spends a lot of time specifically with us, and it's quickly apparent that he's got
more than a little bit of a crush on my elder sister. I still haven't commented on it to her, but
I'm pretty sure she knows.
I lost track of the amount of times that trainers would bust into our dorms already shooting
paintballs everywhere and we had to snap into action. One night, they filled the dorms with
some sort of gas that knocked people unconscious, and only the vigilant passed the test. A
lot of people dropped out that night.
Last night's surprise had been... a little more terrifying, to say the least.
There had been a low rumble that began to crescendo, and most of us who remained had
quickly been prepared for a fight.
Not so. Seconds later, water poured from the ceiling of the dorms, quickly submerging us.
Andi had been the one to figure out that the door had been locked, but picking it proved to
be our way out.
The drains we'd seen in the hallway had finally made a lot more sense.
Kyros spends a lot of his time circling all of us and making sure we're mentally okay. It's
weird that he can tell when something in training has triggered unpleasant memories.
Whenever he goes into this protective mode, Felix calls him Mom, much to my ghost's
annoyance. Despite this, however, I can tell something has been bothering him. During the
few moments we're gotten to speak to each other in private, he hasn't told me anything, but
he also knows that I can tell something is off.
I told Felix about Callie about a week into training at Echo's insistence, and he was
definitely saddened by it.
"It's weird, because just now, I think I'm starting to remember a little bit. They're flashes,
like shattered fragments of memories that I can't quite piece together, but they're there all
the same. It's alright, though. We're different now. Maybe moving on is okay," he had told
me, a rare moment of seriousness from my friend that honestly broke my heart a little bit.
Echo and I spend a lot of time together, and Andi kinds of floats between hanging out with
Ky and Felix to the Thorne sisters.
Titus and Ezekiel show up every so often to check up on us and eventually go out for
dinner, and it's good to see Titus happy again. When he's not with Ezekiel, he told me he's
been spending time with Eva. He says he doesn't feel for her like that, but she's good to talk
to, and parts of her remind him of Thea.
I go out with just Ezekiel every so often, and he never ceases to disappoint. It's weird,
having your father who you never even knew was your father show up into your life again,
but it somehow kind of works. He's a good person, and he sees a lot of stuff in us that even
we don't.
As for me?
It's a good thing that we joined training, because it keeps my mind off of unpleasant things
a lot more than I'd expected. Every so often, Mikhail comes back to haunt me, but most
times, I manage to distract myself before things get too bad.
Felix's favorite and least-favorite thing about training is the food.
"Look at this! How can you call this mashed potatoes?! It's practically mush! Where are the
potato chunks?! Where's the butter?!" he screeches, while simultaneously filling two bowls
above the brim. I raise a skeptical eyebrow at him as he continues his rant.
"And this muffin. It's hard enough to knock somebody out! Watch!" he cries, literally taking
at least seven and pelting the other one at the back of Ky's head. My ghost stiffens and
shoots Felix a glare, but our resident idiot friend doesn't even notice. Someone releases a
heavy sigh paired with a groan of annoyance in front of us.
"This roast beef tastes like boiled leather. It's ridiculous! They probably cut up somebody's
old boots and call it roast beef to poison us!" he wails, even though his plate is covered in it.
I roll my eyes despite the smirk on my face, and Felix puts down his tray to allow him to
place his hands on his hips mockingly.
"Oh, you mock me now, Ari, but one day, when you're nearly dead from food poisoning, I'll
be the one mocking!"
"Felix, you'll get poisoned before me with the quantity of food you consume," I sigh, and he
pretends to look incredibly offended.
"I'm hurt! You know I need to keep up this figure somehow, no matter how bad the food is!"
he scoffs teasingly, and I merely raise an eyebrow at his antics.
"Mr. O'Hara, if you have a complaint about the food, please save it for somewhere other
than the dinner line!" one of the trainers shouts from somewhere in the back, and Felix
waves enthusiastically at him.
"Sure thing, sir! Could you do me a favor and give me some paper and a pen? I need to write
a strongly worded, passive-aggressive letter to your chefs!" he grins, and has to duck as
someone throws a muffin at him. He catches it and takes a huge bite of it before tossing it
onto his pile. I don't know how he even fits all of that onto his tray.
Echo slips into the line quickly behind me, a smug smile tugging at the corners of her
mouth.
"What, have you been flirting with Hayden again?" I ask, and she merely raises an eyebrow
curiously.
"Have I?"
"You like him, don't you?" I question, and she shrugs before giving me a cryptic grin.
"You just wait and see, baby sister," she teases, and I roll my eyes before dropping my tray
next to Felix.
"I thought you hated the muffins," I ask my friend, and he shrugs, holding a half-eaten
pastry in either hand.
"They're passable today," he says, giving me a look that I can only describe as judgmental.
"How are you still so in shape?" a girl passing by giggles, obviously flirting, and Felix shoots
me a malicious grin before looking up at her.
"I guess it's just in my... jeans," he snorts, slapping his thighs to gesture to his pants.
"I don't get it," the girl says, the mirth vanished from her face, and Echo waves her off
reassuringly.
"None of us do, sweetheart, just leave him be,"
"Guys, you know what I miss?" Kyros asks, sitting his tray down next to me and across from
Felix.
"What do you miss, babe?" Felix asks, and my ghost gives him a deadpan look before
answering.
"I miss sending Titus after you, you trainwreck of a human," he tells Felix, and then turns to
us.
"I miss pizza. I mean, how long has it been?" he asks, and we all agree to one degree or
another.
"Ari, can we talk after dinner?" he asks, quietly enough for only Echo and I to hear. My
sister shoots me an evil grin, and I roll my eyes. Echo teases me incessantly about Kyros.
I hesitate a little. What is it that he wants to talk about.
"Sure. Where?"
"Rooftop?" he questions, and I nod.
So that's how I find myself, nearly an hour later, seated on the edge of the roof with my
ghost by my side.
"Is everything alright?" I ask him, taking a seat by his side. He looks over at me with a
peaceful smile.
"Yeah. It's just been a while since we hung out,"
"No kidding. Something's been on your mind," I tell him, and he shrugs a little again. He's
not going to open up, is he? Kyros tends to think it's his job to carry all of us. We both
glance up at the twinkling stars in silence for a few minutes, before I decide to speak again.
"You carry the heavens in your eyes, like one of those old Greek tragedies. And see, I'd call
you Atlas, but he wasn't given a choice to carry the world on his shoulders. You were.
Why?" I ask him, and he smiles a little bit. I try to ignore the fact that his smile kind of
makes my stomach do the floppy thing.
"I do it for you guys, you know," he says, and glances over at me before focusing on the
stars again. "I carry the weight of the world so you don't have to do it alone. I just wish I
could've done the same for Mikhail," he tells me, and I nod a little bit. We all do. Is that what
it is? He feels guilty about Mikhail?
"Me too," I admit, and my head fills with memories I've been trying to forget. There's no
more mirth in my voice, and I fight to keep from breaking down at the thought.
We lapse into comfortable silence for a while, until my ghost finally speaks again.
"Before he died, my father used to talk about the stars a lot," he tells me, like it's the
simplest thing in the world. Kyros does that a lot; he unleashes sentences with the depth of
the ocean but speaks them like they're nothing. It makes him seem more grounded than I
think he is, a lot of the time. My ghost is our starlight boy, with his head in the clouds but
his feet on the ground.
"Did he, now?" I question, staring up at the hundreds of twinkling lights above us. Kyros
reaches out and takes my hand in his gently, and points up at the night sky.
"He said that when a hero dies, a thousand souls light up the heavens to say goodbye."
"You think that Mikhail was a hero?" I ask, not sure if I agree or disagree.
"Maybe. Maybe not. But we're all something," he says, and I laugh a little bit at that.
"Like what?" I ask, half-encouraging him to expand on the matter.
"Felix is ice, Callista is fire. Titus is rage, while Thea was peace. Mikhail was chaos, while
Kara was order," he says, his voice sobering up a little. I bite my lip a little bit, but the smile
comes through anyway. He's not wrong. They do all make sense to a certain extent.
"And what does that make me?" I tease, but once I turn to look at him, the mirth evaporates
from my face. There's too much sincerity there. Too much of something in his eyes that I
refuse to admit to reciprocating.
"You?" he asks, and then flicks his eyes away from me. "You're my everything," he
confesses, and I can feel my breath catch in my throat.
I can't be anyone's everything. I am nothing but brittle bones and a bitter heart, filled with
nothing but revenge and guilt. Kyros Bancroft deserves infinitely more than me.
"I like you, Ky. I think I really do," I admit, but I hold up a hand before he has a chance to
interrupt. "But if I fall for you, I'll risk breaking apart. And I don't think I could put myself
back together again after everything that's happened," I tell him, but to my surprise, there's
no hurt in his eyes. No hurt born from entitlement, like I'd seen in Mikhail's eyes whenever
we talked about this sort of thing.
"That's alright. We're all damaged people now. But I'm willing to wait for you," he tells me,
taking my hand into his.
For a few seconds, our eyes meet and there's something fluttering within my stomach, and
realization hits me like a brick.
Everything that's happened is so far beyond my control, except for Kyros. He's the one
person who hasn't pushed me to pour myself out, and I guess that was the moment I
realized I was willing to wait for him, too.
Instead of speaking, I give him a weak smile and squeeze his hand tightly before leaning my
head against his shoulder.
I'm not ready for this now. But maybe someday.
"Funny. You're my ghost, but he's the one who's haunting me," I admit, with dry chuckle
that Kyros smiles at.
"You and your ghost stories, Ariadne Thorne. I think you let yourself be haunted," he says,
and I raise an eyebrow in confusion. He reads my expression and decides to continue.
"'Course! All you gotta do is let the ghostbusters in, and you've got no more ghosts to haunt
you," he teases, and we both laugh at that.
Go on, something urges within me, the voice tinged with the sorrow of what could have
been. Let go. You are still so young and wild.
And so I decide that maybe tonight is as good a night as any to start rebuilding.
There are worse places to come to life; much worse places than a rooftop with your best
friend in the starlight.
 Twenty: Athena

A/N: Guys, this book has gone by so fast?! I don't even know what to do...

I start to notice a lot of things after that night that I never did before. There's a lot more
nervous touches, a lot more blushing (according to Echo. I'll believe it when I see it), and
honestly, a lot more smiles. It's not too bad. Things could be worse.
And then all hell breaks loose.
Because why wouldn't it, right? Ariadne Thorne has no right to claim happiness. Or peace.
Although this might be the first, but not the second.
Callista calls me on a Monday.
The messenger comes into the training arena right after breakfast, as I'm wrapped up in an
intense sparring session with Echo.
Her fist flies by my ear, nicking the edge of it and returned with a kick that does little to my
stonewall of a sister.
"Ariadne!" someone booms, but I don't bother to turn and look. They're tried this trick
before, and we've all easily outgrown it. My sister lunges at me with a growl and I barely
manage to duck under her reach before she whirling and aiming for my throat.
"Echo! Please let her talk to me," the voice repeats, and we freeze as both of us slam our
arms against our opponent's throat. Fist raised in the air and positioned awfully close to my
face.
Titus is standing just outside the ring, watching us apprehensively with his arms folded
across his chest. His hair is a little longer than when I saw him last, and he looks disheveled
with his stubble-covered face. The scar across his cheekbone that's been there since he got
in a fight at school at sixteen is somewhat more hidden beneath the layers of exhaustion
across his face. There's exhaustion behind his emerald eyes, and his lips are drawn into a
tight, thin line.
Something is wrong.
I launch myself over the edge of the ring and hug him quickly, and my brother lets out a
heavy sigh of relief.
"Dad's been trying to reach me all day. He wants to see you and Echo, too. Hayden's given
you the green light to leave," he informs us, his voice sounding weary and defeated.
"Something else is wrong," I point out, and he waves me off.
"Thea's birthday. Don't worry about it," he admits, brushing it off like it's nothing. Right.
Part of me wants to wonder if Thea might still be out there somewhere. I mean, last I saw of
her, she had been with me in the desert, and next thing I knew, she was gone.
"Titus, can I ask you something crazy?" I question as we start walking towards the exit of
the training center.
"Shoot,"
"I want to go look for Thea with you. To get you the closure you deserve," I offer, and he
freezes. With a mask of complete and utter horror and confusion on his face he glances
over at me and then whirls away to run his fingers through his hair nervously. He shoots
out a long and heavy string of curses before turning back to me.
"I knew we were too lucky to hope you hadn't forgotten anything. Ari, Thea's dead," he
says, his voice sounding defeated and depressed.
My heart freezes a little bit.
"And you know that without a doubt?" I ask, and he lets out a heavy sigh.
"She was leading part of the crews of the Burning when we were leaving the Refuge. We
didn't know what happened to the Burning yet, and when she tried to kill you... I was the
one who killed her," he tells me, sounding so incredibly broken that I can do nothing but
hold him tightly.
"Titus, I'm so, so sorry," I tell him, hoping to bring some kind of comfort. It doesn't work,
but he shrugs me off a few seconds later.
"We can talk about this later, Ari, but right now, we need to go," he says, and I nod quickly
with a sniffle as we all climb onto the train that zooms us off to Ezekiel Thorne's office.
My father doesn't say a word as he merely instructs us to sit down. Callista's face is paused
on the screen before us, and Ezekiel merely clicks on something that makes the video start.
"My name is Callista Reissman, and I have a message for Ariadne Thorne," she starts, and
my father nervously covers his mouth with his hands.
"Ariadne, your mother is alive. Johann and I stopped at our old dome on the way home.
She's alive, Ari. I promise I'll explain more, but call me, okay? Here," Callie says to the
camera, and reaches over to scrawl out a phone number on a piece of notebook paper. She
holds it up to the screen, and with a tired smile, the video freezes.
I don't react immediately. How can I?!
I've been blaming myself for her death for nearly a year, mourning and cursing the stars for
my fate, and now, it's been flipped on its head. Athena Simo-Athena Thorne is alive. I don't
know what to feel.
Suddenly, reality hits me like a slap in the face and I lunge for the phone in my brother's
pocket.
The phone rings once, twice, and Callista picks up with an uncertain "Hello?"
"Callie!" I blurt, and there's silence for a few seconds on her end of the line.
"You got my message?" she questions, and I quickly agree.
"Yes?! Will we be able to get it?!"
"There was a revolution after we left. They overthrew Lockman. Matthias and Athena are in
charge now. I think you'll be fine," she says, and my head spins with all of this information.
"Will you be there?" I ask, and again, there's silence.
"No? Maybe," she hesitates, and I suck in a sharp breath at her words.
"Yes. I'll have Johann send me over. When are you all going to come?"
"Tomorrow?!" Ezekiel splutters, and Echo and Titus rush to agree.
"Tomorrow it is. I'll see you then," she says, her voice taut and curt as she hangs up quickly.
"Pack your things. We leave first thing in the morning," Ezekiel says, a mixture of fear and
joy somehow blending on his face.
"How are we getting there so fast?" I ask, and Ezekiel grins.
"Canaan's teleporter. It's how we drop field agents off at wherever they need to be,"
Suddenly, images of those people we'd seen in Seattle make a lot more sense. It had been
Canaanite agents that we'd see there. Small world.
All three of us are silent on the way back to the training center, different emotions swirling
through our heads. There's a mixture of bliss and terror in my veins. There's so many
things I promised myself that I would say, that I would apologize for. What if she's changed
and doesn't want us around her anymore? The whole guilt and mourning thing is a weird
sort of hollowness of its own.
You're never taught what to do when you're given a second chance with someone you were
sure you'd lost. Reality is composed of heartbreak and loss and only one chance to get
things right. No one gets lucky enough to try again. No one deserves to try again. Especially
not us.
"We don't deserve this," I tell them, and Titus agrees with a grunt. Echo hesitates.
"Nobody deserves anything. People fickle creatures with brittle bones and changing hearts.
But we are owed better. We are owed," she suddenly says, her voice confident and
determined. There's something fiery in her eyes, which cautions both Titus and I not to
challenge her.
Titus drops us off at the training center almost twenty minutes later, and so Echo and I trot
off to our rooms to get ready to go.
"I'm kinda scared," I tell Echo as I toss a pair of t-shirts into a duffel bag. She stops packing
for a few seconds and breathes out a heavy sigh.
"I am too. Dad's excited beyond belief, though," she says, and I let out a semi-bitter chuckle.
"He should be. He's going to see his wife again. I wonder how Matthias will take that?" I ask,
and Echo shrugs.
"We're gonna find out, won't we?"
There's a quiet knock on the door a few seconds later, and once Echo shouts out that they
have permission to enter, Hayden pokes his head in.
"Hey. Are you guys all good to go? Anything you need?"
I shoot Echo a malicious grin and motion for Hayden to enter. He hesitates, knowing that
this is the girls dorm, but cautiously walks in anyway.
"We're good, Hayden. You can hang out with us until we're done, though," I offer, and Echo
raises an eyebrow at me. Hayden hesitates a little, but with a small smile, agrees silently.
"So... you guys are leaving?" he asks us, and Echo nods.
"Just for a few days. Don't worry; we'll be back soon. You won't have to go too long without
me," she tells him with a wink, which earns her some blushing and a lot of squirming. I
stifle a laugh, which thankfully, neither of them notice. I give Echo a smirk before leaving
the room to go grab some extra supplies, and Hayden glances at me nervously just before I
close the door.
I decide to grab an extra jacket from the supply room, and nearly slam into Kyros on the
way in.
"Ari, I need your help," Kyros suddenly says, his face hardened into a mask of steel that
almost terrifies me.
"What? Are you alright?" I ask him, my hand subconsciously reaching to hold onto his arm.
This is weird.
"Sort of. So you know how I told you about my family that night? The one where I had a
mental breakdown?" he asks, and I nod once slowly. Where is this going?
"Yeah. Why?"
"I... might not have told you everything. And I can't find any other way to deal with this so I
need your help," he tells me, and I raise a skeptical eyebrow.
"Okay?"
"I wasn't David Bancroft's only child. I have a half-sister who's still at the Refuge," he says,
and I'm kind of gripped by shock. He had a sister, and he left her behind?!
"And you left her there?!"
"It's a long story. She was with me when I got kicked out, but they put her in jail instead of
banishing her. The Riddicks were really suspicious of her, so whenever I visited her, it had
to be in secret. I knew she was safe in the dome, since the Refuge's prison is probably the
safest place in the entire dome. I was planning to bring her with us, too, but when the
Riddicks decided to come, I realized it would only cause unnecessary tension. But now that
we found Canaan, it's been eating me up. I want to go back for her," he explains, and though
it doesn't make complete sense, it's better that what I was expecting.
"So... where do I come in?"
"Your dad could surely get us into the teleport room and send up back for a few hours to
get her and teleport back," he says, his voice wavering slightly with uncertainty.
I let out a heavy sigh. I'm a little bitter that he didn't tell us this, because he knows we
would have helped him rescue her when we first left, but the other half of he feels bad for
him.
"I'm not supposed to tell you this, but Echo, Titus, Dad and I are going back to our dome to
get Mom back tomorrow," I tell him, and his eyes light up.
"So... maybe we can go to the Refuge and get my sister, too?" he asks, a grin sliding across
his features. I can't help but smile with him.
"I'll see what I can do,"
Kyros' grin cracks into a smile and he suddenly pulls me into a hug. My stomach does a
couple backflips, but the moment is ruined by a sudden loud crashing.
Felix busts out of the closet, earning a fighting stance from Kyros and a loud scream from
me.
"Just so you know, I'm coming with you guys," Felix informs with a grin, and then trots out
of the room like nothing happened. Kyros and I exchange a look that's soon followed by
laughter.
Classic Felix, I guess. One more can't hurt, can it?
Yeah, right. It's Felix. He's probably going to get us killed.
 Twenty-One: Living and Dead

A/N: Aesthetic for Athena Thorne.

Early the next morning, we find ourselves all waiting near the teleport room, with
backpacks and duffel bags in our hands as we wait for Ezekiel to finalize the coordinates for
both our dome and the Refuge.
"So you do realize that we're ditching poor Andi?" I ask Kyros, and he laughs.
"Nah. She wouldn't want to come anyway. I asked,"
With a slight laugh, I turn to look at Titus, who seems unable to hold still. His hands are
extremely fidgety.
"Hey. It's gonna be okay," I tell him, and he nods a little despite the unbelief in his face.
Ezekiel trots into the room just as the door hisses shut, the doors barely missing the corner
of his leather jacket.
"Alright. Here we go!" he says, and suddenly there's an infinite amount of energy surging
through my veins.
Being torn apart and put back together is a nearly indescribable feeling. It's like every part
of you goes into a few milliseconds of pain, and then it's just energy flowing through every
fiber of your being.
The flashing lightning before my vision suddenly gives way to reveal swirling dust around
us, and I rush to cover my eyes.
And suddenly, it's all there. A thousand memories, a thousand sleepless nights, a thousand
teardrops, a thousand smiles, a thousand bouts of laughter.
Home.
It looks just like it used to, from the outside. The inside of it is only a little different, and
only because there's people from the Lower Levels there.
Titus steps closer to me and slips his hand into mine, and I grab Felix's chilly fingers.
There's someone sitting on the steps where I used to spend my early mornings, a young girl
only a few years younger than I. She staggers to her feet, gaping at the battered-looking
group of people who've just appeared out of thin air. Seconds later, she's sprinting away,
and before long, there's a crowd gathering to come look at us. I almost want to laugh. That
would've been us a year ago.
Titus and I are the first ones to move towards the blast doors, and Felix goes to knock on
the glass and make faces at people.
The doors slide open and we all step inside slowly, and I almost laugh at this situation.
My world is afraid of me. There's a scar above my left eyebrow about an inch long, and you
can barely see the beginnings of the burn scar creeping up the back of my neck. A crescent-
shaped scar is on the back of my hand, the least of all the trauma marks I now possess. The
people gape at us.
We're all littered with ghosts and scars, battle-hardened shells of the people we used to be.
There are guardsmen who watch us warily, and others still who recognize Titus and I.
I never thought I would see this place again. Never thought that I would want to. Yet here
we are.
"You're the Simon kids," someone shouts from the back, and murmurs race like waves
through the crowd.
"Thorne, actually, and we're looking for Athena," I shout back, and the crowd goes silent.
No matter.
We walk down the familiar streets, and the guardsmen follow. I can still identify everything
here. There's the spot where I used to sit in the morning. The house that belonged to the
colonel of the guardsmen, the library, the hospital where I used to work, Callie's old house,
the Thompson's house... all of it feels like something from a dream.
"Titus?" someone questions, and we all turn to look behind us. Mr. James is standing there.
Thea's father.
Titus's face falls, and I can almost hear his heart grow heavy in his chest.
"I'll catch up," he whispers to me, and then jogs after the confused-looking man.
With a heavier heart, we keep on moving. I don't know where we're going, but it's
somewhere. Suddenly, people in the streets around us shift their attention from us to
someone further up ahead. Four people, actually, two of which are guardsmen.
The other two are Athena and Matthias Simon.
Everything seems to freeze. I could count a million things I dreamed about saying, different
ways I'd imagined this might go. My head is empty now.
Instead, my mother merely looks at all of us like she's facing ghosts, and I imagine we must
look the same.
I had dreamed of this moment; of what I'd say, what I'd do, what I'd tell her, but all I can do
is stare.
Seconds later, I'm nearly blinded by my tears as I run into her open arms.
"You made it," she whispers, and all I can do is cry.
"I thought you were dead," I manage, and she merely holds me tighter.
My mother is alive. She's alive and she's real and I'm not dreaming and we're not dead.
"I'm here, Ari. I'm here,"
For a few seconds, all is well with the world.
We both pull away with smiles that light up our whole faces, and my mother takes a few
seconds to look me over, tracing the scar over my eye. I must look so different to her now;
all hardened muscle and hollow, mismatched eyes and littered in scars, cuts, and bruises.
She seems not to care.
When she pulls away, Echo is waiting with tears in her eyes, and Athena gapes at her
blankly for a few seconds before whispering her name as if it were a prayer. It's almost as if
she's guessing; surely the resemblance is there, but dare she hope?
My sister's pursed lips crack into a smile, and she nods without a word. She has no chance
to speak; Athena has already crushed her against her frail body and is weeping into her
shoulder. Both of them are sobbing. They each thought the other was dead. We all did, but
this is different.
Apparently everyone in my family thinks that everyone else is dead. I manage a bitter
chuckle under my breath. This has got to be some special kind of dysfunctional.
My mother suddenly looks up from my sister's shoulder and her gaze freezes.
"Zeke," she chokes, and I can see the single tear trickle down my father's face despite his
massive grin. Echo lets go of Athena with a watery laugh, and comes to stand by me with
joy spilling from her face.
My parents approach each other slowly, as if one would disappear if the other moved too
fast.
Matthias Simon merely watches them, his face a mask of sorrow. I start to understand this
man a little bit more now. He's in love with someone who will never love him the same
way, because her heart belongs to someone else. The nagging voice of guilt in the back of
my mind gloats that Mikhail would've gotten along all too well with him. I clench my teeth
and chase the ghosts away.
Ezekiel reaches out as if Athena were made of glass, his fingers brushing against her cheek
ever so slightly, and her hand reaches out to intertwine with his. They're looking at each
other like there's no one else in the world; they're looking at each other like they're seeing
for the first time.
Felix shoots me a grin and he waggles his eyebrows jokingly, earning an eye-roll from me
and a grin from Kyros.
"You're supposed to be dead," my mother informs Ezekiel, and a slight smirk spreading
across the corner of his mouth.
"I can go climb back into the grave, if you'd like," he tells her, and she gives him a watery
laugh before their foreheads lean forward and just barely touch.
"I think I'm home," I hear my father say, and I think even I can't help but smile then.
I see Titus approaching us with sagging shoulders and his head down, and I immediately
know the conversation with Thea's father didn't go so well.
He sees Athena a few seconds after stepping into my field of vision, however, and he
straightens a little bit.
"Oh, please don't kiss. Your kids are all here," he yells, and the trance over the reunited
Thornes is broken. Athena steps away from Ezekiel just as Titus walks into her arms, and
there are suddenly even more tears.
Everyone else finishes their greetings rather quickly, and Matthias suggests we all go back
to our old apartment.
"I'll catch up. Can I call Callista really quick?" I ask Titus, who gives me a little nod paired
with a smile before handing me his phone.
I pull the slip of paper from my pocket that has Callista's number scrawled on it, dial in the
number, and wait.
"Hello?"
"Hey, Callie. It's Ari," I say, and again, there's silence on the other end of the line.
"Who're you talking to?" a male voice asks in the distance, and I hear Callie shush him
quickly.
"I'm not coming, Ari. I'm sorry, I just... I can't go back. I hope you can forgive me," she says,
and hangs up a few split seconds later. I'm left silent, frozen in place for a few moments
before I let my hand drop.
A heavy sigh escapes my lips and I push the phone into my pocket. Since when did my life
change so drastically? Callie has been my best friend since I was seven years old, and now
she's so distant that I don't even recognize her anymore.
If I'm perfectly honest, though, I don't recognize myself at this point, either.
I can't bring myself to go inside just yet, so I walk back to the steps where I used to take
refuge and sit down. It's as good a time as any to contemplate on my life.
Yeah, right.
I think I lose track of time as I watch the dust curl into swirls with the passing wind,
remembering how this used to calm me down. It scares me a little bit now. All I used to
want was to have time to think alone. Now, I'm desperate to be busy.
As I scan the glass surface above, all I can see is my blond skywalker dangling from it with a
goofy grin on his face.
"It gets old, sometimes. Just staring at the unbreakable glass for signs of it being breakable."
he had once told me. I let out a bitter scoff at how foolish we were just a few months ago.
We were kids who thought we understood everything about the world. We were so, so
wrong.
I used to think that I was the white queen—that I made the difficult choices for the greater
good. I almost laugh at how young I was then. There are no noble choices, no queens, no
kings... just a bitter heart and brittle bones that can barely contain a girl with a broken
heart. Just a head full of dying dreams and painful memories. Just hands littered with scars
that should have saved lives but ended them instead.
There's a loose thread on my jacket, so I gingerly pull it out and weave it between bony
fingers. The sound of boots scraping against rough concrete sounds to my right, and I turn
to look at my elder brother.
Titus avoids my eyes, letting out a grunt of annoyance as he takes a seat by my side.
"I thought I'd find you here," he says, and I give him a rueful smile.
"You thought right," I say, and he gives me a weak smile.
"Kyros asked me to come find you. He likes you a lot. You know that, right?" he tells me, his
eyes scanning the horizon slowly.
I glance over at him and then back at the dark string I'm twirling in my hands.
"He deserves someone better. Someone who's not so broken," I tell him, looking back up at
my older brother. He chuckles a little, and then takes my hand in his.
"You are damaged and broken and unhinged, but so are shooting stars and supernovas and
comets. Broken might not be such a bad thing," he chuckles, and I give him a grin.
"Since when are you so poetic?" I tease, and earn a laugh from his usually stoic mouth.
"Since you became emo,"
"I'm not emo," I say, slightly miffed, and he waggles his eyebrows playfully.
"And I'm not Titus Thorne. Come on, Spunk. You've got a family waiting,"
 Twenty-Two: Shatter Me

A/N: Aesthetic for Brynn Bancroft.

I wake up to the sound of laughter in the kitchen, a sound that hasn't filled this house for as
long as I can remember. There'd been screaming, and crying, and breaking, and a lot of
silence, but not laughter.
With a contented sigh, I roll out of bed and feel my bare feet hit the carpeted floor with a
quiet thud. The kitchen contains my parents, and Kyros, all three of them laughing a little at
some wild story from my ghost's past
Athena leans into Ezekiel's shoulder like it's the most natural thing in the world, and the
sight is odd at best.
"Ari, as soon as Felix is back, I think we're gonna get going," Kyros tells me, and I give him a
quick nod before heading to the bathroom to shower and change.
As the warm water runs over my shoulders comfortably, I start to reflect a little farther
than I wanted to.
What happens now? Can we just up and take Athena out of here? Will she want to come?
What about Matthias? I don't think he'll be all to happy to have his wife leave, even if she
was never really his.
Upon exiting, I'm informed that Felix is returning from a visit to his family now, and we'll
head out once he gets back.
I take a seat on a stool by the kitchen counter, next to my ghost as my parents wander
around the kitchen on their mission to feed this army of people here.
Felix walks in a few seconds later with a grin on his face, and motions to the door without
saying a word.
Ezekiel merely stops for a few seconds, his face sobering as he realizes it's time for us to go.
Echo, Athena, and Titus don't know that we're going, and for whatever reason, Kyros wants
to keep it that way. I don't understand him sometimes.
Either way, Ezekiel merely ushers us out the door and decides that the hallway is a good
place to teleport from. Okay Dad. Whatever you say.
"Be careful, Ari. Please," he begs, his hand cupping my cheek ever so carefully before he
presses the receiver device into my hands. I give him a small smile and a nod before
slipping the device into my pocket.
"And you two. Promise me you'll keep her safe?" he asks, a hint of distrust tinging his voice.
Both Kyros and Felix agree solemnly, and before I can fully register what is happening,
there's energy surging through my being and all I see is blue lightning.
And then we're standing in the streets of the Refuge.
There's still more dust and minuscule fragments of rubble from the attack a few months
back, but nothing that someone who wasn't there when it happened would recognize. They
cleaned up well. Better, they covered everything up well.
"Alright, Ky, what's the game plan?" I ask, and my ghost hesitates.
"We were supposed to teleport into the prison already," he admits, and both Felix and I
whirl to face him.
"What, so we're gonna waltz up into McGregor's office and ask to be let in? 'Hey, remember
us? You tried to kill us? Yeah we need to escape with one of your prisoners. Okay, thanks
Uncle Will! Appreciate the help!'" I say, and my sarcasm amuses Felix but irritates Kyros.
"Okay, but seriously guys? Creepy Uncle McMurderkins has never met me. I'll get us in, and
you guys come in afterwards. I've been wanting to beat someone up for a while now, and
not in a training way," Felix tells us, and Kyros and I glance at each other quickly. My ghost
shrugs, but agrees anyway.
"Can you get us in without being spotted?"
"Please. That's my new talent. Sneaking around, I mean," Felix grins, and starts down the
street. Kyros merely stays put, so I don't move either.
"Okay real quick: where are we going?"
Thankfully, Kyros has a lot more grace towards Felix that I do, because he manages to
quickly explain where Felix has to go before sending him off in the right direction.
All Kyros and I can do is wait somewhere safe, which somehow ends up being a tiny coffee
shop. Once we're sitting down and can do nothing but sit there, I notice immediately that
something is off about my ghost boy. He looks incredibly tense and nervous, and I can
almost guess why. There must be a thousand memories here flooding his head.
I merely reach out and take his hand in mine, squeezing it gently between my fingers as he
lets out a heavy sigh.
"I can't lose someone else in my family,"
"You won't," I tell him firmly, and despite the uncertainty in his eyes, he nods.
"I hope not. See, before everything happened, Andi, Thomas, Brynn-that's my sister's name-
and I were all super close. Thomas and Brynn kind of had a thing, but Tommy was always
more trouble than the rest of us. He'd been arrested three times before McGregor finally
banished him. Brynn was furious and kind of ended up in a dark place, and started getting
involved with people she shouldn't have. Some gang of thieves or something. She was
arrested, too, but on behalf of the Riddicks and I, he just kept her in prison. She's been in
there for two years," he tells me, letting out a heavy sigh before running his fingers through
his hair. I'm about to reply when my phone suddenly rings, and I reach to answer it.
"Yo, are you guys coming or not?" Felix asks, and I almost scoff.
"On our way," I reply, and Kyros doesn't even wait before stepping outside.
Felix is leaning against the door casually when we reach the entrance to the prison, and I
almost laugh at the irony of its location. The Spire, the tallest building in the Refuge and the
housing of both the library and the Council, is the above the parking garage that doubles as
the entrance to the prison.
"You're late,"
"We came when you called us, you dolt," Kyros groans, seriously irritated at Felix's
shenanigans for possibly the first time. Felix either doesn't notice or doesn't care, because
he merely leads us into the entrance and past the unconscious guards.
I can't tell if I'm more shocked at the unconscious guards or at the prison itself. Spotless
gray concrete floors line the ground, and the walls are composed of some slightly reflective
white material which I almost want to call plastic, with bright white lights hang from the
ceiling.
We walk down what feels like the longest hallway ever, and I try to ignore the tightly sealed
metal doors that we pass ever so often. Kyros seems to know exactly where we're going,
though, so when he turns and steps into one of the branch-off hallways, both Felix and I
follow him almost without question.
That's when I see the prisoners. The front walls to all of the cells are some sort of
unbreakable glass, and there are people of all sorts behind the glass. All of them have the
same matching white uniform, which resembles a hospital gown to a certain extent. There
are burly men with tattoos and dyed hair who growl as we pass, bony teenage boys who
sulk in the corners, nervous young women with ragged hair who pace nervously, and
furious girls who pound on the glass.
And then my ghost stops in front of one of the cells with a choke, and Felix and I quickly
catch up.
Brynn Bancroft looks a whole lot like her brother, with the same dark chocolate hair and
impish grin, and icy blue eyes light up once her brother steps into her field of view. There's
a scar that runs through her left eyebrow, leaving a nick in it of scarred skin, and a wry
smile is stretched across full lips. Her cheekbones are clearly distinguishable on her gaunt
features, probably from hunger. Her face is long and lean, and though she's not tall, she's
not so short either.
"Brynn," Kyros mutters, and she reaches out to place her hand against his through the
glass.
"Alright, Mr. Break-Down-The-Doors, you have a plan to get her out?" Felix asks with a grin,
and Kyros glances over at him momentarily.
"Yeah, yeah. Here," he says, producing a keycard from his pocket and touching it to the
panel. I think he was expecting it to only open Brynn's cell, because his eyes widen when all
of the cells open instead. Another point for team failure. Go us.
"Okay, how did you get that? And you realize you've just unleashed chaos, right?!" I hiss, as
prisoners start to pour from their cages.
"I took it off a guard at the front. We need to get out," he mutters, but is obviously more
focused on his sister.
"Kyros, I swear, you took your sweet time getting here," Brynn suddenly says, her voice
thick with emotion anyway as she looks at her brother with raised eyebrows and her hands
on her hips.
"Took a little detour," he says, and she laughs just as they practically fall into each other's
arms. I guess we all get our family reunions this week.
"So this is Ariadne? I've heard a lot about you," she tells me, looking me over carefully once
Kyros lets her go.
"All good, I hope?" I ask, glancing over at Kyros with a smirk. He blushes crimson, and all of
us laugh at him.
"I'm Felix," my goofball friend introduces, bowing comically as Brynn turns to face him.
"You're not dead, then?" she questions, and he winks at her playfully.
"Sometimes I have my doubts, but no. Not such luck for this one," he says, pointing at Kyros
half-heartedly. Brynn laughs.
"It's a pleasure, Felix. But in all seriousness, we'd better get out of here sooner than later,"
she says, and Kyros snaps to reality rather quickly.
"Felix, can we teleport when we're underground?" Kyros asks, pulling the receiver out of
his pocket and checking the timing.
"Yeah. But we're going to have to hold absolutely still for at least a minute or two so it can
register," he says, and Kyros quickly glances up at the small group of prisoners who have
been slowly approaching us.
"Yeah, that's not gonna happen. Time to run," he hisses, and grabs both my hand and
Brynn's before he takes off sprinting down the hall.
It's a strange sensation; there's no fear that courses through my tired bones. Some sadistic
part of me even relishes this sort of mad dash, and that scares me.
It's only when we all come barreling out of the prison and into the streets that we realize
our first mistake: tiny devices that bring big problems called alarms.
We step out right into a circle of guardsmen with guns trained at our chests.
"Any time now, Felix!" Kyros yells, an Felix takes hold of my wrist quickly before suddenly
energy is coursing through my system.
And we're back in the living room of my old apartment. Okay. This is ridiculously trippy. I
don't think I'm ever going to be fully used to that.
Brynn, the poor soul, merely staggers to her feet, blinking wildly as she looks around in
shock and maybe even some horror.
"Are you okay?!" Ezekiel immediately asks, kneeling down to my spot on the floor to check
on my quickly. I nod and sort of brush him off, electing instead to let Echo help me to my
feet and checking me over for injuries. Finding nothing, she lets out a quiet hum of approval
and proceeds to check on the others.
I help a trembling Brynn to her feet, who merely walks around slowly.
"You know, I'd been in there long enough that I forgot what freedom was like. Is this really
happening, Ky? Or is this still a dream?" she stutters, eyes filled with droplets of unshed
tears.
"Welcome back to life, Brynn. I've missed you," he laughs, and with a watery chuckle, she
falls into his arms again.
We spend the next three days hovering around our old home. Matthias explains what
actually happened this whole time; when Athena first showed up, pregnant with me and
with six-year-old Titus at hand, Lockman managed to get her inside in the dead of night. His
first instinct had been to kill her, but Matthias had helped him and proposed another
solution: he would marry Athena publicly, and keep an eye on her to make sure she kept
her mouth shut about everything else that was out there. Athena agreed, only because she
didn't want her children to be raised by anyone else. Somewhere along the way, Matthias
actually fell in love with her, while Athena never felt the same. Titus' memories of the other
dome were removed, and we would be raised as if Matthias was our father. However, as
time went on, Matthias purposely let more and more things slide so that Athena could be
happy, which is where Kyros comes into the picture.
Apparently, Athena was never even attacked. Warning shots were fired into the air, and she
was taken into custody. Matthias rushed into save her from execution, and the people
interpreted it as a revolt and joined in. Lockman was killed in the crossfire.
It's a weird experience when we finally decide to leave-mostly because Ezekiel decides to
stay for a little while. Athena doesn't know whether to go or stay.
And I suppose it makes sense. Actually getting the life you always wanted is often more
terrifying than staying in the one you're in. You can struggle with your current situation as
much as you want to, but at the end of the day, leaving is pretty darn hard, too.
So we leave. Brynn decides to room with Echo and I as soon as we finish training, and Andi,
sick of being alone, joins us as well.
Life goes on, I guess. Onwards and upwards.
 Twenty-Three: Of Revelations

"So let me get this straight: most of you have been cured of the Burning, and have little to
no side effects?'
"That's correct,"
"And Felix was the one turned for the longest, so his memory was affected the most?!"
"Also correct,"
"And my brother told you he likes you, and you somehow managed to still avoid actually
being with him?"
I let out a scoff.
"We are not talking about this," I tell Brynn, who merely rolls her eyes. This conversation
has been going since we left our dorms. Today is a training day for all of us, Brynn's decided
to come with Echo and I to train. I think this is the first day in nearly three weeks where
we've actually opened up to each other, and Brynn's decided to dump all her unanswered
questions on me at once.
"But you do like him?"
"Brynn!"
"Come on, Ari! It's not the hardest question to answer, you know,"
"I told you, we're not talking about this! Come on, we're gonna be late," I tell her, and jog
into the training room despite her grunt of annoyance.
We find Echo stretching in a fighting ring, a sleeveless tank top hanging from her
deceptively slender frame loosely. With her hair in a messy bun so as to keep out of her
way, she looks pretty darn ready for anything. There are others in the dimly lit room, but
not nearly as many as fill it during the midday hours. Echo and I tend to come here either
really early or later at night. Usually both.
"You're late,"
"This one has decided that today is a good day for interrogation," I say, gesturing towards
Brynn loosely. Echo's nose crinkles slightly as a slight snicker emerges from her lips,
warping the crescent shaped scar on her neck as she cocks her head sideways a little.
"It's only because you're just such a ray of sunshine," she grins, and I roll my eyes.
"You know, sometimes I wonder why you and Felix get along, and other days I just... this
happens," I say, waving her off noncommittally before I vault myself into the ring with
Echo.
"Girls, girls. Plenty of time for arguing when we're about to beat the crap out of each other,"
"Echo argues with her fists," Andi sings as she enters the room, earning a laugh from Brynn
and a groan of despair from my elder sister.
"Get a life, Winters, so that maybe you won't continue to pester mine. You're like the
plague," Echo teases, and Andi winks at her playfully before sliding into the ring with us.
"And you're the carrier, I guess. You know you love me, Thorny," she smirks, and Echo
merely rolls her eyes despite the grin that accompanies it.
I think from these weeks sparring with her, I've learned that Echo's favorite thing to do
when she gets tired of a conversation is throw punches. Poor Andi is on the receiving end
this time. She stumbles backwards as Echo's knuckles collide with her jawline, which earns
a laugh from Brynn.
Andi recovers quickly, and I barely manage to get out of the way before they really go at
each other. Brynn gestures towards the open ring just to the right. I manage to vault in
without much effort, rolling my shoulders quickly as I take up a fighting stance. Brynn
jumps in already swinging, and I barely have time to duck under her kick as we start up our
own fight.
It's almost a dance that follows the swinging fists of our battles, something rhythmic and
familiar that works through your system without any warning. I think that's what terrifies
me the most; these new killer-like instincts used to scare me. I welcome them now.
Brynn is fast and capable, despite her only officially training for a few weeks now. Her
experience comes from whatever she did before being imprisoned, and though the rest of
us don't mind it, Kyros is bothered by it. He has right to be, I think, but Brynn disagrees
heartily. I think it forces him to remember things he had hoped weren't true.
Wishing things were different doesn't change anything, though. Brynn is still a fighter and
we're all still broken.
I have to duck quickly to avoid her swinging kick, but manage to retaliate with two swift
punches to her ribcage before slamming my fist into her stomach. The air audibly
whooshes from her lungs, and she keels over in a fit of gasps and coughs.
"Oh, come on, Simon, that was dirty," Brynn coughs, and I give her a wolfish grin as I wait
for her to recover.
"Hey, Titus just called me. They want to call a meeting," Echo yells from across the room,
and Brynn coughs a little before slowly rising to her feet. I roll my shoulders quickly to
release some of the tension in them. Andi pulls her blonde curls out of their bun and vaults
out of her ring, motioning for Brynn to join her before jogging off to the showers.
Echo approaches me slowly, her bony fingers dancing around her wrists as she pulls the
gauzy white wrappings from her hands.
"What do you think Titus wants?" she asks me, draping one arm over my shoulder casually
as we walk in the direction of the gym showers.
"There's a million things he could ask us. A million things we could ask him. I have no idea,"
I tell her, easing my own wrapping from my sore knuckles. Echo stops suddenly and turns
my back to her gently, her fingers tracing ever so lightly against the beginning of the burn
scar at the base of my neck.
"How's it look?" I ask her, clenching my teeth as I struggle to repress the memories
bouncing around my head. It only barely works; I can't see the skywalker's face, but I feel
the gritty sand digging into the painfully oozing wound as I lay half conscious on the
ground. I can hear the ringing in my ears, hear the frantic screaming, hear my own
desperate sobs.
"Better. It's completely healed, I just don't know if the scar will ever go away," she tells me,
removing her fingers from the scar before proceeding on our previous walk. She knows
that if we talk about it for too long, bad memories get stronger.
"Figures," I mutter, and she cracks a smile just as we step into the shower rooms.
The chilly water soothes my sore muscles to an extent, and before long I have my soaking
hair up in a bun and a hoodie over my sore shoulders.
I meet up with Echo, Brynn, and Andi at the train station, and curl up against the back wall
contentedly as Echo studies me from her seat. It's been a few weeks now since Mikhail's
death, but I think we both know it's been affecting me even more lately.
On sleepless nights, I can still see his eyes sparkling with mirth as he would tease us all, and
the look on his face right before he... well.
Titus is waiting at the stop by our houses, and embraces us all quickly before leading us
into the house he and Felix share.
"What are we here for?" I ask him, not unkindly, and Titus merely smiles ruefully.
"Council time. Training's almost over, and we need to figure our lives out," he merely says,
pushing the door open with a creak and taking a seat on the couch. Kyros quickly snaps to
attention as I step into his field of vision, and we both crack a grin at his excitement.
"Too much?"
"A little," I say, and he laughs a little before hugging me quickly.
Hayden, Felix, Kyros, and Titus are all seated already, and Eva comes out of the hallway and
takes a seat by my brother's side. I raise a skeptical eyebrow at them, but Titus pretends he
doesn't notice.
"Okay, what's this all about?" Andi questions, draping herself over the back of the couch
Brynn is currently occupying.
"We have to figure out what we're going to do after everything, you guys. We could all go
into the field, but at the same time, we could all live the normal lives we always wanted,"
Kyros asks, and all of us pull into varied degrees of pensive silence.
At this point, I don't know if I can live a normal life. There are too many scars, too many
things I can't unlearn, too many memories that haunt my dreams. I am the huntress
Artemis, her heart burdened by tears and battle cries and lost love. There's a world out
there of oblivious people, who live in blindness and fear of the unknown. I know about the
cure; we all do. Who are we to keep it from the sick?
"There's a world out there that needs help. Who are we to sit here and hoard the cure for
ourselves?" Felix tells us, his face a mask of some unreadable emotion. Titus scoffs audibly
before interrupting.
"I think we can, and I think we should. The Burning took everything from us," he spits
bitterly, and I have to bite down on my tongue to avoid screaming at him.
We all know far too much about loss of loved ones, that much is clear, but Titus knows
nothing-nothing-about the loss of your own humanity. Andi does. Felix does. Kyros does.
Echo does. I do.
"Agreed. They have to pay for their crimes," Andi suddenly says, much to my surprise. I
barely have time to register what she's saying before my sister snaps.
"They weren't the ones who committed them!" Echo yells, desperation tinging her voice as
she shoots to her feet. I catch a glimpse of her trembling hands, but she quickly grips the
table to hide the sign of weakness.
"I need to know, for my own sake, that my humanity is still... there! That I'm not some lost
cause, that I wasn't the one who killed all those people!" she stutters, eyes wide and frantic
as she searches our faces for some semblance of agreement. With a shaky breath, I reach up
and take her hand in mine gently.
"She's right. If the Burning have to pay for their crimes, then that means we do, too," I say,
my voice quiet and trembling despite the conviction in my heart.
"You guys are different," Titus says, his voice less certain now and more apprehensive.
"No different than anyone else out there," Echo quickly snaps, and Hayden nods slowly in
agreement.
"Echo is right, I think. You guys would all be awesome field agents. I mean... don't do it if
you... just... if you're up for it, any one of the field branches would take you in a heartbeat,"
he says.
"I say we vote," Andi offers, and murmurs of agreement flutter through our people.
"Alright. If you guys are into field work, raise your hands,"
Echo's hand shoots up, as does Hayden's and Felix's. Brynn raises hers a few seconds later,
and to no one's surprise, Kyros raises his as well.
I hesitate. I would be called to end up so close to places I never wanted to return to. I can't
go. I don't want to go. My hand stays in its place.
"What are you all doing?" Kyros asks us, and Titus is the first to quickly explain.
"I'm going to leave with Eva for a few weeks. Since I've spent time with Dad, I've gotten
better at the scientific side of Canaan. I'm going to learn more about bioscience," he says,
and no one really reacts. No one expected that one.
"I want to help with field agent training," Andi says, and Kyros gives her a grin of approval.
"Ari, what about you?" Kyros asks, and I hesitate again.
"I... I don't know. I might join Argos or Naxos or one of those eventually, but... I'm not ready
yet. I'm probably gonna spend some more time training before I start anything," I say, and
Echo gives me a happy grin that I return.
My friends and family depart one by one eventually, leaving only Brynn, Kyros and I to
ponder on our most recent conversation.
My ghost takes the empty couch as an invitation to stretch himself out over the entire thing,
and I have to try really hard not to laugh as Brynn throws a pillow at his face hard enough
to scare him into moving over.
We spend the night watching movies from before the earth burned, laughing and taking
these moments of joy to keep them in our hearts.
It's almost ironic; of all the places I thought my life would go, this is not one of them. Even
when we were dying in the desert, I didn't think we'd ever get here.
Somewhere in the midst of the trauma and the scars and battles, we took up our own flags
and decided to pave our way in the world.
We were just children thrown into an adult's war. But now? Now we're not just kids
anymore.
We are warriors.
We are legends in our own right.
 Twenty-Four: Of Renewal

A/N: Guys!!! We're only six chapters away from the end of book 2!
I had always grown up hoping that the world was always keeping my best intentions in
mind. That every time things were good, they would stay that way.
There's a simple way to explain how that idea was removed from my head: what goes up,
must come down.
The first few days after our meeting are basically eventless; I spend time with Echo, Brynn,
and Andi for the most part, keeping up our training as we wait for the peace to crumble. My
sister and I, especially, have found a sort of solace in the process of sparring with each
other; it requires so much focus that it doesn't leave much room for anything else. I don't
talk to her about Hayden and she doesn't talk to me about Kyros.
And I've been trying-oh, how I've been trying-to avoid even thinking of my skywalker, but
there's a guilt like toxic gas that rests within the cavity of my chest and no matter how hard
I try, his ghost doesn't leave me alone. Echo understands. I do not.
It's only a few days later that I snap.
It might have been the boy who resembled my skywalker that I had seen on the train early
that morning, or maybe it was the way my mother asked about what happened to Mikhail
on our weekly phone call, or maybe even the fact that Kyros and I have only gotten closer,
but the fact stays the same: I'm not ready to move on. I can't; not when I see his grin every
time I close my eyes and hear his voice whenever I fall asleep.
Someone I cared for gave his life up to a love that wasn't requited, and I am still breathing
while he is nothing but ashes in a desert full of dust. All I can feel is guilt; it fills up my lungs
and chokes out my happiness and leaves nothing but ashes in my mouth.
He was never even given a funeral. We accepted his sacrifice and moved on with our lives.
Mostly.
He deserved better than this, so I tell Kyros that we need to fix this. He agrees with me as
soon as I propose this insanity. Ezekiel manages to pull some strings and convince Gwen
Stevens to send a Canaan crew to Astheneia. Someone else is assigned to build a
gravestone.
The crew returns a week later with a jar full of sandy ashes. How they got it, or if it's even
the right stuff is beyond me, but it's something.
Andi, Brynn, and Echo never really knew him, so they elect to leave us to mourn on our
losses. Callie refuses to return, even for this.
The rest of us huddle around the hilltop where we'd buried the jar, a marbled headstone
frozen in place.
The inscribed letters upon the dark stone is simple; it's his name and timeline, and none of
us could find words adequate enough to fill the space beneath it. The rainclouds form above
us in a bitter sort of irony, and I can't help but scoff.
And everything washes over me like a wave. I've written out what I want to say; it's two
pages of tear-stained paper that suddenly seems so incredibly inadequate. He's dead
because of me. He died with a broken heart because of me.
"I don't really know where to start with this," Felix chuckles, the mirth sapped from his
voice as a thundercloud rolls behind us somewhere. His hands tremble as he flips through
his notes.
"I didn't know you for as long as everyone else did, but for the time I did, you were an
incredible friend. You were sacrificial and loved all of us like family, and I know none of us
can thank you enough for what you did. We're all only standing here because of you," he
says, and tosses a handful of earth onto the jar that's now seated in the hold in the earth.
With a sniffle uncharacteristic of our goofball, he holds his chin up high as he walks away.
Titus is next, and in a very Titus-like fashion, he doesn't say much.
"Thank you. I think that's really everything we can say. Thank you for never giving up on
us. Thank you for holding us together even when we wanted to fall apart. Thank you for
insisting we keep fighting even when we didn't want to,"
I can't allow myself to cry; not yet. I don't realize I've been biting down on my lip until I
taste the coppery bitter of blood.
Kyros and I are left alone afterwards, neither of us wanted to speak for fear of what that
might entail. Seconds tick by like eternities, and I can feel the gentle raindrops quickly
picking up speed as the sun's last rays struggle to illuminate a darkening sky.
"You were my brother. I'm sorry, so sorry, that I couldn't save you. You deserved so much
better," Kyros finally says, his hands balled up into tight fists as he stares at the new
headstone with the skywalker's name on it. I start sobbing before I can stop myself. This
was never supposed to happen.
"I promise you that we'll all take care of each other. It's what you would've wanted," my
ghost finishes, leaving only me left to pay my respects.
I let out a quiet sniffle and take a cautious step forward, the gentle raindrops sticking to my
eyelashes and making it difficult to focus. The crumpled paper in my hand is clumsily
tucked into my pocket, simply because written words aren't good enough for this. I suck in
a sharp breath and start to speak.
"You are born into a family whose ancestry you'd like to forget. Your life is sold to your
grandfather, who has you work among the sky to keep his empire safe. Your sister tells you
she looks up to you, but you begin to wish she didn't," I start, voice trembling as the words
spill unbidden from my lips. The countless stories he's told me spill into a terrifying
narrative that I dread to finish.
"You meet your first love at eighteen, and you leave your home and family that same year.
You see more death and destruction than anyone should have to, and the girl you love
doesn't stop pushing you away," I manage before I need to stop to compose myself again. A
few tears trickle from my eyes, but with pursed lips and a heavy heart, I force myself to
continue.
"You never find the safety you deserved. You never find the love you needed. You never
find a place to call home," I say, my voice breaking and the tears not stopping. I need to
finish this. For his sake.
"You die at nineteen in the arms of your first love whose heart couldn't accept your love.
And you find it cruel that in this world, Icarus had to fall in love with the sun,"
The rain falls in teardrops from a broken sky, droplets of rainwater sticking to my
eyelashes as I cry. I can vaguely feel my ghost's hand in mine, a tickle of reality and warmth
in the bitter cold.
"Is that how you see it?" he asks, his voice cracking a little bit, and I nod a little bit in the
half-light.
"You think that he was Icarus and you were the sun that burned him?" he continues, and
again, I nod.
"Icarus was a boy who flew too close to the sun and got burned, if the stories have it right. I
think he was just too enthralled by beauty to care whether or not it hurt him," he tells me,
but the tears don't stop coming.
"What makes you say that?" I ask, my voice barely above a broken whisper.
"Because I feel the same way. Besides," he replies, blue eyes staring into mine, "It was the
ocean that claimed him, not the sun. There was cold water and salt and darkness, but no
heat. No light. Not you," he says, and pushes at my chin until our eyes meet. Through my
tear-filled vision, I can see the slight grin that tugs at his face. I don't know what to say. I'm
afraid of what I see in his eyes. I'm afraid of what might be reflected in mine. I'm afraid of
what I feel in my soul.
"He would've wanted you to be happy,"
"I would've been happier if he was alive," I say bitterly, and silence lingers for a while as we
both mourn on our own.
There's a million memories I can see, clear as daylight.
I can see his scruffy blond hair sticking in every which direction the day I met him, the way
his fingers were warm against my cold ones as we danced beneath the ground. I can
remember the hope and excitement that swelled within me as we became closer and closer.
I remember the worry in his gaze when we found Kyros, and the panic when I nearly died
saving my ghost.
I can see the fear in his eyes that he somehow overcame as we sprinted through the dust,
watching as I slipped away from him and into the gnarled, waiting arms of the desert. I can
see the temporary happiness he found at the Refuge with the Riddicks, and the smile on his
face as the last few happy days we had ticked by. I can see the pain in his gaze as we all
accused him of being a traitor, and the silence he sort of slipped into afterwards.
I can see the heartbreak in his eyes as I pushed him further and further away. I can see the
hurt in his stare as I broke his heart twice.
I can see the conviction like star fire in his eyes as the bombs beneath his coat went off.
"Buckle up, sweetheart," I mutter, and the sobs wrack through my weakening body before I
can stop them. I collapse into Kyros' arms and he just holds me as we stand there in the
rain, sobbing by the grave of a boy who was guilty of loving too much.
He was not mine and he is not mine to grieve over. He was not all I had.
But somehow, I feel him in my bones, his blood settled into my palms.
I took-I took. I took everything from him and now he's gone while I remain.
And yet, I sit here, selfishly telling my friends that I can't lose them. I can't lose anyone else.
When I tell Kyros I need him, I try to pretend that I don't need him close, need him
breathing, for entirely selfish reasons. It scares me more than death itself.
His words of comfort do little to help my panicky breathing and messy sobs, but I manage
to give him my confession all the same. This is when I let go.
"I was supposed to be a doctor! I was supposed to heal, to fix things! But I'll I've done is
destroy! All I've done is burn!" I tell Kyros, who merely shushes me with reassuring words.
I will not stop. The weeping heavens deserve to know the truth.
"I didn't love him. I could have. I almost did. I was being weak," I tell him, as if I am strong
now. Kyros just holds me, waiting for me to calm down. I don't. I don't deserve anything
that I've been given, especially not the people that I get to call family. I can't lose them. I
won't. Call it selfish or call it desperate, but I will not let them go so easily.
I will not give up what I've fought so hard to keep.
So I let the rain soak through my skin, with each breath screaming,
"We are all too young to die,"
The heavens mock me with their thunderclaps.
 Twenty-Five: Pockets Full of Posies

A/N: Longer chapter for you guys this time! Enjoy!

I think the days after the burial bring with it the first hints of closure. It's not the blooming
flowers that would sprout at the notion of coming to full terms with it; it's more like the
end of winter, where the inklings of melting snow begin to tickle the ravaged earth. That's
what the days after Mikhail's funeral bring: maybe not the beginning of spring, but the end
of winter.
Echo notices almost immediately; the fact that we share the same house doesn't help much
with secrets.
"You're singing," she points out one early morning, rubbing the sleep from her eyes as she
finishes her descent from the stairs. The baggy crew neck she sleeps in hangs loosely over
her frame, and it's almost comical. My sister is tough as nails, but you wouldn't be able to
tell at the first glance. She actually looks quite... puny, especially in the mornings.
"Why is that important?" I question, a hint of mirth in my voice as I finish pouring hot water
into the coffee maker. The metal handle of the kettle in my hands is bordering on too hot to
hold, but the fact that I notice something as little as minor pain is a good sign. Two weeks
ago, I would've wished that it was hot enough to burn.
"You don't sing, Ari. You mope, you don't smile. It's a good sign," she states, like it's the
most matter of fact thing in the world. I shoot her a quizzical glance, but don't disagree.
My elder sister lets out a yawn and scrambles lazily onto the kitchen counter until she's
sitting comfortably.
"I've heard whispers that Gwen wants to meet with you soon," she tells me, tugging at the
corner of an opened package of chocolate chip cookies on the counter. They're not the good
kind you make in the oven, the melty ones that everyone loves; they're packaged, bought
off the shelf of a supermarket, but they're tasty and they'll easily satisfy cravings. My sister
pops one into her mouth, leaving me to wonder in silence for a few seconds. Maybe Gwen
wants to talk about the journal? If it is, she took her sweet time to make room for this
conversation. You'd think that after discovering what we knew, she'd be in a hurry to talk
to us, but no. It's been weeks, and this is the first time she's reached out. Even now, it hasn't
been directly. Something in the back of my head is uneasy, but I brush it off quickly. She's
busy and we've been training; her absence is easily explainable. Plus, none of us had ever
really gone after her.
"It's about time. Hey, when did we buy cookies?" I ask, picking up the package and listening
the rustle of plastic.
"I don't think we did. My money's on Felix or Hayden," she says, snatching the sugary snack
from my hands and onto her lap. I give her an evil grin seconds later, teasingly sliding
myself onto the island across from the counter she sat herself upon.
"Hayden was here?" I smirk, and she lets out a heavy sigh paired with an exaggerated eye-
roll.
"I'm not having this conversation," the says, pointing a finger at me menacingly. Despite the
mouthful of cookie crumbs, her raised eyebrows and widened gaze make her seem
threatening enough to not be completely ridiculous.
I give her a quiet laugh but decide not to press any further, opting instead to waggle my
eyebrows at her until she rolls her eyes and shoves another cookie into her mouth.
"You wanna get breakfast first, or straight to Gwen?" Echo asks me, obviously trying to
change subjects.
"What's breakfast?" I ask teasingly, nudging the cookies on her lap hard enough that they
nearly fall.
She laughs. The sound makes my heart swell.
"Gwen it is. I don't think she'll let me in with you, but I can at least walk with you to her
palace itself," Echo tells me, earning a chuckle and a grin.
The trip itself is uneventful; we've all grown more than a little accustomed to the inner
workings of Canaan's train network.
Like we'd been expecting, Echo is not allowed past the front gate of the spire in Canaan's
center. If I'm completely honest, the lack of her presence makes the creepy place all the
more eerie. The stark gray-white of the building's walls and ceiling is almost too clean-
there's not a mark to be found anywhere. The nearly black marbled flooring, at some points
covered by blood-red carpet, only adds to the effect. The lone secretary at the front barely
glances at the two of us, a frown cemented onto her features.
"She's waiting for Ariadne. You can't go with her," she tells us, her voice sounding
unamused and monotone.
"Are you sure? It can't be that..."
"No other guests. Miss Stevens insisted that only Ariadne was to be allowed in," she says,
her tone adopting a slightly apologetic tone. I suck in a shaky breath and give my sister a
quick nod of reassurance before stepping ever so carefully into the elevator.
The room is identical as to when I saw it last; red carpet, spotless walls, fancy appliances
and furniture, circular walls that lead to who knows what. My hearts pounds frantically,
something unknown producing a sort of fear that I'd forgotten existed. There's a black coat
draped gently over the back of the couch, the tree-like insignia of Canaan on the upper left
arm.
Gwen has her back to me, hands folded across her chest. She's still dressed regally in her
black suit pants, heels, and a blouse; the type of thing you'd expect from someone like her.
"Tell me, Miss Thorne: do you believe in destiny?" she asks me, her voice almost calculating
as she stares out at her kingdom.
I hesitate, cautiously stepping soundlessly across the carpet until I'm only a few feet behind
her. I don't know which answer is right and which one is wrong. The only thing that breaks
through the fear is the memory of the days in which I became the things I hated; the days
where Arya was in control.
"Do you believe in destiny, Miss Thorne?" Daedalus had asked, eyes sinister and menacing as
he stared me down.
"I'm convinced you do. And I think you and I are destined to do this forever."
I let out a breath I didn't realize I'd been holding.
"A monster in the desert once asked me that same question," I say, and I suddenly realize
how puny I sound.
"What did you tell him?" she questions, glancing over me quickly before turning back to the
landscape. A few seconds tick by before I can compose my answer.
"I told him to go to hell," I say, and to my surprise, she chuckles quietly.
"I see," Gwen states, and returns to silence.
"You know, Ariadne, I've watched hundreds of people come and go. If there's one thing I've
learned from it all, it's that everyone believes in destiny. Death beds are awfully convincing
resting places," she breathes, and I merely wait for her next comment. None of my fear is
pacified by her words, but I'm not the scared little girl I was in the desert anymore.
"I would expect as much," I reply, my words mirroring her careful and calculating ones.
"Yes, I'd imagine you would. Miss Thorne, what do you know about the field work my
people do?"
"Johann said that they keep track of the Burned people who are okay to heal and bring into
Canaan, and that they monitor the societies that are currently functioning in the world."
"Yes. That's what the majority of them do," she says, and my curiosity is almost instantly
spiked.
"Majority?"
"I'm here to offer you a job, Miss Thorne; a job that with a bit of counseling, I think you
would excel in," she tells me, and I feel my heart skip a few beats.
"What kind of job?"
"One full of secrets. One that I can't really tell you more about until I'm sure you're ready
for it," she says, and it's almost like I can hear the sirens going off in my head.
"Why should I trust you on this?"
"Because the deal is this: you accept this job, and I'll train you in everything you need to
know to complete it. Along with that, I'll answer any questions you can think of to ask me,"
she offers, and I hesitate. For the first time, the option to find answers is completely in my
own hands. At the same time, this is more than a little sketchy.
"Can I get back to you on this?"

This time, it's Gwen's turn to hesitate.

"We start your training tomorrow. You can make your final decision whenever you want,
but I truly would like to get a chance to you know better, Ariadne," she says, her amber
eyes betraying a sincerity that I don't think can be faked.
"I think I can live with that,"
Echo is still waiting for me just outside the building, her arms folded across her chest
menacingly and a grimace on her face. The moment she sees me, she whirls to look at me
with a mix of terror and worry in her eyes.
"What happened?!" she asks, walk hurriedly alongside me as we rush to the train.
"She offered me a job," I tell my sister, still mulling over the events of the past hour or so.
"What?! What kind of job?!"
"I don't know. She was really vague," I mutter, fiddling with a loose string on the sleeve of
my shirt.
"Did you take it?!"
"Not yet," I say, and she lets out a heavy sigh.
"Did she answer any questions?"

"I didn't get to ask any. That was part of the deal. If I take the job, I get to ask whatever
questions I want," I tell my sister, who merely breathes out slowly in reply.
We make it back home without any word spoken between us, both of us considering the
ramifications of either side here. Apart from Titus, who is packing for his upcoming trip, all
of our friends have managed to huddle in the living room of our house in front of the TV.
I go to the training center during most of the afternoon with Brynn, and by the time I return
and shower, all sore muscles and messy wet hair, I'm sleepy enough to not mind the
recently set sun. Dark is dark, and so I'm almost ready to climb into bed when two sharp
raps knock against the door.
My messy hair is tied quickly into the best bun I can muster, and I open the door to find a
certain ghost boy looking down at me with an almost timid grin. He's wearing the same
beat-up old leather jacket he had on the ship, and I almost ask him where he got it from.
Instead, my eyes flicker down to where his fingertips are tapping nervously against a steel
Thermos, two mugs precariously laced between his index finger.
"Hey," he greets, and I can't fight the smile that I return.
"Hi,"
"I, uh... I brought us some coffee. Interested?" he asks, laughing a little at himself despite
there not being anything inherently funny about this. Either way, I can't get rid of my smile,
and we manage to clamber onto the porch of the home he shares with Titus.
For a while, the only sounds that fill the air is the slurping of coffee and nervous little
laughs that follow uncertain glances.
There's something blooming within my chest that I didn't even know existed, something
that sends electricity through my veins and spreads heat all the way to my icy fingertips.
I'm almost afraid to acknowledge what it is.
He's quiet for a while, merely studying me as I gaze up at the stars, tugging at my hair until
it falls in messy wet strands over my shoulders.
"Do you think wishing on shooting stars is worth anything?" I ask him, and he merely looks
at me with a look that I can't quite read. Curiosity. Confusion. Admiration. Maybe all three.
Seconds tick by slowly, and I let out a slight scoff. It was a stupid question anyway.
"Forget it," I tell him, and his fingers suddenly move to cover mine.
"I'd like to hope so. I've wished on one too many to have them become meaningless," he
tells me, and our eyes lock again.
This has happened a thousand times; the lingering glances where we try to read each other
only to look away when we find something there. Not this time.
For some reason, I scan over his entire face quickly. His hair is wild, sticking in every which
direction, lips parted slightly as he breathes. His blue eyes sparkle with something I can't
place. Something tells me I'll remember the look on his face in this moment for a while to
come. My ghost boy.
He is red. He is fire and he is on his way to burning himself out. Whether it's from rage or
empathy, I'm still not sure. Maybe it's both.
I wish I was red. I wish my bones were unbreakable; forged of courage and heat and flames.
But I am green. I am the color of broken glass in a broken city with a broken earth beneath.
Maybe if I was blue, maybe then I could be there to put out the flames that threaten to burn
him down. But I am green, and there is no saving him. There is no saving me. There is no
saving us.
Perhaps if I was yellow, maybe then I could stay with him. We always wanted to be the
stars, and I guess we could do what stars are born to do: burn and blaze and light up the
sky. But I am green, and I cannot join him.
If only-if only I was colorless; then maybe then I wouldn't love him.
But I am green, and I think that I do.
Before I can fully register what happens, he leans forward and kisses me. Without warning,
without permission; without even really deciding to do it, but simply because it doesn't feel
right to do anything else.
His lips are soft and warm and gentle, sharply contrasting mine. I am cold and rough and
clumsy, all sharp edges and shards of ice, but somehow, I kiss him all the same.
I need that breath he is holding. It belongs to me, and I want it back. I need it back so that I
can breathe again.
There's too many nightmares that plague me about losing him. I need him close to me. It
reminds me that he's real; that he's breathing.
There's something akin to firelight that dancing across every inch of my skin, like I'm
drenched in gasoline and he is a match that strikes me.
And that terrifies me.
I pull away a few seconds later, and Kyros looks at me with confusion.
"I... I'm sorry, I shouldn't have let you do that. I have... I have to go," I stutter, and quickly
shuffle out of the room, leaving my ghost behind with a mix of regret and surprise on his
face. He doesn't come after me, and I don't look back.
I make it back to my house and quickly slam the door shut. With my back pressed against it,
I reach up to brush my fingers across my tingling lips. He kissed me. I don't... I don't even
know what to do. I was supposed to be untouchable. I'm supposed to be grieving.
I almost want to run back to him, but I don't.
The saddest word in the whole world is the word almost. I was almost in love. He was
almost good for me. He almost stopped me. I almost waited. We almost made it.
I guess we live in an almost world. Almost words, that rest on the tip of my tongue but
never fall any further. Almost love, full of false hope and rosy cheeks and trying to change
almost into always even though we know of the impossibility of such an idea.
But it never really happens, and words are left unspoken. We are filled with regret, and we
are all none the wiser.
We are always none the wiser.
From birth, we are told that mistakes don't matter, but learning from them does. I've come
to realize that when mistakes aren't learned from, they're probably a piece of your
character. It's a lot harder to kill a part of yourself then to learn from your mistakes.
I can't ever seem to move on; that's mistake number one. I don't deserve to. I'm bound by
ghosts and ashes and guilt and I can't let go. Letting go requires forgiveness; I cannot accept
forgiveness. Mistake number two.
Somewhere along the line, I convinced myself that I would be stronger once I could feel
again. But I'm not. I've only thrown myself in harm's way again. Mistake number three.
If I am anger and bitterness and sorrow, then so be it. Let it consume me and turn my
brittle bones to steel.
If I am darkness, then let it be extravagant.
 Twenty-Six: Of Uncertainty

Kyros and I don't speak after that. He doesn't bring it up, doesn't apologize, doesn't even
mention that it happened. Our conversations are terse and snippy, and Echo notices
immediately.
"What happened?" she asks me one day, and I shrug her off quickly as I focus on the dishes
I'm supposed to be washing. I scrub particularly hard at a fork and toss it into the pile of
clean dishes, and though I reach for another dirty plate, Echo catches my wrist and forces
me to look her in the eye.

"Nothing, Echo. I'm fine," I insist, but she doesn't take the bait.
"You haven't spoken to me for three days, you stopped singing, and have barely left the
house. Brynn and I have been here waiting for you to do something the whole time. Tell me
again that everything is fine," she challenges, eyebrows raised a little as she looks me over
warily. We have a stare-down for a few seconds, and I cave with an eye roll.
"It's just Kyros. Forget about it," I say, and Echo doesn't budge.
"Echo, get out of my way," I growl, as she merely studies my movements. She doesn't even
so much as flinch. I can feel Arya's rage bubbling up within me, so when I sidestep and Echo
moves to block me, I let out a menacing snarl and let my fist catapult towards her face.
My sister almost laughs as she catches my fist and flips me over her shoulder and onto the
floor.
The wind rushes from my lungs audibly, and all I can do is sit there and gasp for a few
seconds. I should've known better than to throw a punch at the girl who knows how to
snap necks with a twist.
"Fists up, little sister. You've got a lot of rage to let out, and so do I. Let's do this," she huffs,
a borderline sadistic grin stretched across her face. I suck in a breath and launch myself to
my feet, my leg shooting out to kick at hers, but Echo is ready.
"What do you have to be pissed about?!" I spit, driving my elbow against her ribcage and
nearly punching her nose if it weren't for her quick duck.
"I'm a stupid person who makes a lot of stupid mistakes about stupid feelings," she hisses,
her fist colliding with my jaw hard enough to send me staggering back a few steps.
"Hayden?" I ask, eyebrows furrowed as I glance at her momentarily. She rolls her eyes, but
seizes the opportunity to attack quickly and deliver a kick to my stomach that I mostly
manage to avoid. Mostly.
"No, stupid, I'm in love with someone else. Who else?!"
"Huh. First time you've admitted it," I smirk, catching her punch and ducking under her
other fist.
"Okay. Bad wording," she says, rolling her shoulders to relieve some tension before
attacking again.
"Nah, you said it. Too late to take it back. That's not the important part, though, because we
all knew it. What happened?"
"This is about you," Echo spits, her fist colliding with my ribcage solidly before I catch it and
flip her over my shoulder instead.
"He kissed me," I mutter, half-under my breath in hopes that she doesn't hear. She does
anyway.
"He what?! Why is that a bad thing?!" she questions, lowering her fists a little as she looks
at me curiously.
"Because! I'm not ready for that stuff! I chickened out and took off running and now we're
not talking," I finish, and Echo raises an eyebrow. Seconds later, her fist is flying towards
my face, and I barely manage to duck away from it.
"I think neither of you are. You both need to grow up a bit. You'll make it through this," she
assures me, and I let out a scoff as I swipe under her swinging fist.
"Yeah, thanks. Let's talk about you and Hayden," I say, and she lets out a huff as she refuses
to meet my glare. Instead of replying, she throws herself into our mock battle. With a whirl,
her leg is suddenly barreling towards my face, and I have to raise both arms to block the
powerful kick.
"It's nothing all that serious. Just more of both of us dancing around what we both know,"
"Really? Because you're always awfully obvious about it," I prod, remembering the
thousand times where Echo would shamelessly flirt with Hayden, finding a weird sort of
humor in the boy's flustered reactions.
"Doesn't mean I'm ready to commit to anything serious," she mumbles, finally dropping her
arms after another blocked punch fails.
"I don't know. My issue isn't as bad as yours, though. What do you think you're gonna do?"
Echo finishes, heading off towards the kitchen soundlessly. I follow, swiping at the stray
hair that's fallen across my face before snatching a water bottle from the fridge.
I hear the laughter of our goofball trio before I see them, and Echo shoots me a look of
mock fear just before the door bursts open.
"No, go away! We haven't put the child locks on the doors and we haven't covered the
power outlets," Echo groans, and Felix's laughter fills the house in reply. The dark-haired
boy has recently struck up a strong friendship with both Andi, and though Brynn bears a lot
of their ridiculousness, she gets along great with Andi and for whatever reason hates Felix.
"Make sure you hide all the breakable things. Glass vases, plates, mugs..." I start, and earn a
high-five from Echo.
"Yo, I think Titus might be leaving tonight," Felix informs us, already moving past my sister
and I and into the kitchen. Echo gives me a glance filled with almost disgust. Both of us are
getting used to Titus never telling us anything, while Mom, Dad, and Eva seem to always
know what's going on with him.
"Oh, good," Echo huffs, and Brynn immediately catches the bite in her voice.
"Did he not tell you again?" she asks us, hoisting herself up onto the counter next to Echo. I
nod half apologetically, and Brynn kind of gives me a sad smile.
"I'm sorry. That's no fun,"
Brynn had initially planned on staying with Echo and I, since we were the first ones she
met, but soon moved in with Andi. Kyros' sister is one of the nicest people I've met, half
Felix's sarcasm and half Eva's kindness. Both Echo and I get along with her really well, even
if we don't see her as often as the others. Of all the people I could end up getting along with.
And now, of all times, for her to show up in my house.
Judging from the way she's looking at me, I don't think she knows about what happened.
It's better that way.
"What happened this morning?" Brynn questions, low enough so only Echo and I hear. Andi
has trotted off into the living room and Felix is still busy with whatever it is he's doing on
the opposite end of the kitchen.
"We didn't fight, if that's what you're asking," Echo says, and then freezes once she catches
her mistake. I laugh.
"We fought physically, but not because we were angry at each other," I explain, which earns
a curious glance from Brynn.
"Who were you angry at, then?" she asks, and Echo lets out a snort as she tries to leave the
room. I catch her arm and pull her back slowly, desperately hoping she won't insist on
leaving.
"Just... relationship drama. Nothing serious. You know Echo and I, we like to spar for no
reason sometimes," I rush, my words stumbling out in a mess of confusion that attempts to
fix the situation before it starts. Brynn is suspicious, but she accepts my words anyway.
"Ari, when's your meeting with Gwen?" Echo asks, tugging her hair out of its bun as she
paces around the kitchen. I hesitate. I forgot about that one.
"An hour. Let me shower and I'll start heading over,"
"Can I walk you there?" Brynn suddenly asks, and I glance over at her in surprise and a
little bit of fear. She wants to talk about something. Oh dear.
"Sure thing," I spit, as cheerily as possible, and take off upstairs before much more can
happen.
With a groan of annoyance, I quickly wash off and change into something more presentable.
Gwen's people and her apartment are not to be trifled with, even by one's appearance.
Felix and Andi are gone by the time I come back downstairs, and Echo is on her way out.
"Where are you going?" I ask my sister, stopping her in her tracks with half of her jacket on
and half dangling off her shoulder.
"Out," she grins teasingly, putting on the other sleeve of her jacket and leaving without
another word.
"She's visiting Hayden, isn't she?" I ask Brynn, who merely gives me a knowing grin.
"Where else? Are you ready to go?" she asks me, and give her the best smile I can muster.
I'd really rather not talk to anyone right now.
With a nod, we head outside, the gravel crunching under our feet as we make our way
towards the train stop.
"Kyros told me what happened," Brynn tells me quietly, and I refuse to meet her eyes as we
walk. Of all the people who could talk to me about this, Brynn is the last in line. I love her,
but she's his sister.
When I don't answer for a few seconds, she continues.
"I don't blame you, Ari. No one's upset. You have full right to walk away if you don't like
him," she tells me, icy blue eyes studying my reaction. My stomach sinks at her words.
"But I do. That's the problem, Brynn," I sigh, and the surprise is quickly evident in her face.
"I do like him. I can't, though," I tell her, desperation creeping into the corners of my voice.
Brynn's face fills with confusion, and she merely waits for me to continue.
"Love is weakness. I can't be weak anymore,"
"But it's not weakness, Ari. It's not," my friend insists, and I scoff.
"Tell that to Mikhail. To Callie. To Titus," I saying, brushing her off as well as I can. The train
slides to a halt in front of Gwen's spire, and Brynn merely looks at me sadly before standing
up with a sigh.
I'm almost in the elevator when she speaks again, her words quiet and lacking their usual
teasing tone.
"I hope someone changes that idea in your head someday, Ariadne. You can't live like this
forever,"
"I'll believe it when I see it," I tell her, ever the skeptic. She gives me an apologetic smile.
"I hope you do. We should do something fun tonight," she suggests, and I nod, grateful for
the change of subjects.
"If you, Echo, and Andi plan something, I'm down,"
"Nice. Good luck," she grins, and the elevator slides shut as soon as my finger slides off the
button keeping it open.
There are a million words I could use to describe Gwen Stevens, but easygoing is not one of
them.
"Miss Thorne. When I say the word power, what do you think of?" she asks, as soon as I
step out of the elevator. I'm almost taken aback; then again, the meetings usually start like
this.
I ponder the question as I silently walk further into the apartment, taking a seat slowly on
one of the couches.
McGregor had power. He tried to kill us because we would've exposed his secret.
Lockman had power. He tried to dispose of us to hide his secret; the secret that kept him in
power.
Daedalus had power. He... well. Daedalus was a cold-blooded killer.
"I think power brings with it a lot of dirty secrets. I think those secrets corrupt people; they
rot them from the inside out. I think secrets can only exist because of lies, and thrones are
built of lies. Secrets are like a weight around your neck, and power is an ocean. You put
those two together, and..." I trail off, my hand swinging downwards to mimic a sinking rock.
This earns a smirk from Gwen, who looks away from me a few seconds later in silence.
"When weak people are put in power, secrets drag them down. When powerful people are
given the power they deserve, they learn how to turn that weight into something that
floats," she tells me, her words emerging calculated and sure.
"Those weaker than the power are powerless," Gwen finishes, and I can't shake the uneasy
feeling that tickles the pit of my stomach at her words. Who determines the strength of
those in power? What kind of a person could deem some weak and some strong?
"Don't look so shocked, Ariadne. You'll soon learn this, too," she assures, giving me a smile
that could be described as both sincere and almost mocking.
"What makes someone strong enough to handle power, then?" I question, bordering on
defiant as I stare down the woman who survived the end of the world. In the end, my
curiosity will always override my fear.
"Lesson one starts now. You need to get rid of guilt," she tells me, and I can only stare at her
blankly in response.
There's no way. I am made of fault lines and guilt, with too much to carry on weak
shoulders.
"You can never save everyone you love, Ariadne. Never," she assures me, pacing cautiously
along the window.
"How do you get rid of guilt?" I question, my voice void of the former defiance in it. If I were
to get rid of guilt... if only, then I would finally be free. Maybe Gwen has some sense left in
her.
She turns to face me with conviction like the sun in her eyes, something wild flashing
behind them.
"Kill what you can't save. What you can't kill, throw out. What you can't throw out, bury.
What you can't bury, give away. What you can't give away... you must carry with you." she
says, and my uneasiness grows along with something I can't place. It might be fear, but it
feels a lot more like a twisted sort of excitement.
Gwen paces her way slowly back until she's standing right in front of me, amber eyes alight
with something both broken and terrifying.
"It is always heavier than you thought,"
 Twenty-Seven: Decisions

A/N: Friends! I'm so sorry! This chapter took 3 billion years to upload!

The next days are spent with Gwen, learning more and more of her philosophy and of how
to fight in ways the field agent training didn't teach me. I still feel uncertain of the job she's
offering, and without a final decision, my questions remain unanswered. At the same time,
her logic makes sense. A lot of her ideas fit like a puzzle piece into my problems.
Titus decides to wait until Athena and Ezekiel get back, planning to leave for the science
division with Eva once our parents are accustomed to their new homes. In the meantime,
Felix and Kyros have moved in together, and Hayden practically lives with them at this
point.
One particular morning finds me heading to Titus' house to help my elder brother pack for
his departure.
"So. You're really going, then," I start, glancing at the mess of clothes scattered throughout
my brother's room. Titus looks up at me with a start, his eyes carrying both sadness and joy
at the same time.
Titus Thorne looks oh so different from what he used to. His dark hair, previously kept
constantly well trimmed and cared for, has elongated to the brink of too much, leaving his
appearance far messier than I ever would have imagined. Where his military-style haircut
used to make him look dignified, this new mop of scruffy black hair looks completely
uncouth and adds to his apathetic look. Add a few scars he doesn't bother to cover and an
often stubble-covered face, and his pretty boy look has turned a lot more dark and
somewhat brooding. If I didn't know the reason behind his newfound apathy, It'd be funny.
"Hey, Spunk," he greets, and I curl up next to him on the floor of his room, resting my head
on his shoulder. There's something heavy that sits in the air when we're together now;
something like the ghosts of childhood laughter and skeletons of teenage memories. Those
phantoms fill the air and stick to the insides of my lungs, stopping the flow of words that
used to come out so easily.
"I'm not ready for you to leave," I tell Titus, who merely breathes out in a sad sort of sigh
and kisses the top of my head.
"I don't know if I am either," he confesses, letting me bury my face into the sleeve of his
navy blue hoodie. Titus used to always smell vaguely of gunpowder and aftershave, one
from his Guardsman duty and the other because he used to groom himself. His clothes
smell like woodsmoke and soap now, yet another reminder of the change my brother's
undergone.
"But I think you feel the same way I do. I want to start over. A clean slate. And Eva..." he
starts, his voice trailing off a little as his emotions choke him. I lift my face from his
shoulder and try to read his face, and the smile he bears is genuine.
"Eva is everything I'm not. I know you don't know her that well, but I... she gives me hope,"
he says timidly, as if he's afraid of these words. I can't help but give him a weak sort of
smile. He's learning how to be happy again. If leaving helps him finish those lessons, then
I'm glad he's going.
"Then you go with her, and you never let her go," I tell him, and he gives me a quiet sort of
laugh that hums with relief. I think part of him was afraid of my disapproval.
"Hey, did anybody order pizza?" a voice calls from the door, and I recognize Brynn's
musical tone almost immediately.
"The correct answer is yes, by the way!" she continues, mirth seeping from her voice as she
waits for us to answer.
"Upstairs!" I yell in reply, my grin matching my brother's.
Brynn walks only up until the door, picks up a baseball cap from the ground and puts it on
haphazardly, holding out a pen and making a stern face that doesn't completely come
across.
"Pizza for three. I need you to sign here," she mocks, and I let out a groan of despair.
"Oh, sit down. I'm not getting up," I tease, and Brynn laughs a little before tossing both the
cap and the pizza onto the floor, much to Titus' horror.
"Okay. I don't know why you did that, but I get to scrape the cheese off the top of the box
now," he threatens jokingly, and we all laugh a little.
"How much longer do you have to pack?" Brynn asks, sitting down next to me and taking a
piece of slightly damaged pizza from the box.
"Until tomorrow night. That's when our parents get here," my brother quickly explains,
eager to bite into his own slice of food. Brynn merely lets out a sort of hum of
acknowledgment, studying both of our faces as she chews slowly.
Before she can move onto interrogating us, there's a loud crash from downstairs and a
muttered string of curse substitutes. Brynn lets out a quiet groan of despair before our
intruder even speaks, reminding us of the unexplained animosity between her and Felix.
"Guys?" Felix's familiar voice yells, and before we know it, he's making his way into Titus'
room. Brynn refuses to so much as look at him, and he ignores her and greets only my
brother and I.
"Packing? Laaame," he smirks, shoving some of my brother's clothes away as he takes a
seat.
You'd think from the tone of voice that Felix uses that the mood would be light round, that
we'd all be smiling and laughing afterwards. Not so.
The silence that follows is almost heavier than the one plaguing Titus and I before. It's now
accompanied by Felix's somber expression as the half-filled suitcase finally starts to sink
into his brain. We grew up together; Titus, Felix, Callie, and I. Brown eyes are blue and
people are gone, and nothing is the same as it used to be.
Brynn clears her throat suddenly, and I think all three of us snap out of it a little bit.
"So. Packing," Felix laughs nervously, and we all kind of let out quiet chuckles.
We help Titus until around lunchtime, and though Felix decides to stick around, Brynn and
I decide to head back home to meet with Echo for lunch.
I glance out at the rolling mountains in the distance, and thoughts I've been trying to
suppress slither their way into my head.
There's nothing left for me here. Everyone else has something to move into. Not me. I am
little but shallow breaths and trembling hands and a broken heart. Gwen's job offer might
not be the worst idea.
Brynn notices the battle in my head before we even sit down, but chooses not to say
anything.
Echo greets us warmly. I'm pretty sure it's Hayden's presence in her life, but whether it's
Hayden or something else, my sister's cold exterior is starting to crack, at least around me.
We eat our lunch mostly in silence, until my sister finally questions my silence.
"Ari, is everything okay?" she questions, and I hesitate. It's not, which is why I'm suddenly
starting to consider Gwen's words as more that superstition and lies.
"I've been thinking of leaving," I say, wincing a little as Echo's jaw drops. Brynn's shock
mirrors that of my sister.
"You're taking Gwen's job?" my elder sister questions, and I give her a half-hearted shrug.
"Maybe,"
"Where would you go?"
"Argos. Naxos. Anywhere but here," I tell her quietly.
"Because of Kyros?" Brynn interrupts, and I hesitate. The truth might not be so pretty.
"Because of Mom and Dad and Titus. But mostly because of him," I admit, and there's no
horror on her features. She is silent for a few agonizing moments before she speaks again,
less certain this time.
"I want to come with you," she tells me, and I'm a little taken aback. I had expected her to
want to stay here, with her brother. Apparently not.
"Me too," Echo adds, and her response startles me a little more. My parents will be here
soon, and her relationship with Hayden might actually become something committed if she
gives it a chance. I look up to meet her gaze, but the fury behind her gaze is immediately
evident.
"But not all of us can just up and leave. You and Titus can only run so far, you know. One of
us has to stand and fight," my sister hisses, the rage in her throat bubbling up into a steely
statement that leaves me a little bit startled but not surprised. Echo stands and turns to
leave, fists clenched at her sides as she throws a jacket over her shoulders and flings the
door open. She freezes, one foot out the door and the other ready to follow.
"You can't run away from your demons, Ariadne. You carry them with you; until you rip
their claws from your heart, you won't find the peace you're so desperate for," she says, her
bitterness blending with her sadness before she slams the door behind her and leaves
Brynn and I in silence.
"She's not completely wrong," Brynn says, and I glance up at her uncertainly.
"Not completely?"
"Yeah. I mean, a change of scenery and lifestyle is a lot more likely to loosen whatever's got
a hold on you. If everything around you reminds you of bad things, you're not gonna get
better."
I merely study my friend's face, the half-grin that's constantly on her face adding to her
warm demeanor.
"Do you actually want to leave, Brynn? What about... your brother?" I say, realizing too late
that I can't even stomach saying his name right now.
"Kyros has a life he can chase here. He and I grew up in worlds like mirrors; reflections, but
never really touching and never really the same. There's so much out there to see, and I
want to see it all. I would love to see it with you," she smiles, and I can't help but return her
happy grin.
There's an awkward throat clearing at the door, and we both turn almost in unison. Felix
merely gives us a shy sort of smile, his usually goofy demeanor replaced by something
more somber. Brynn merely looks him over, a judgmental glare written into the lines of her
face.
"When are you planning on going?" he asks quietly, one hand in his pocket and the other
running through his raven hair.
"Somewhere we can do something more useful than sit around and wait to grow old," I tell
my childhood friend, who merely nods in understanding. For a few moments, I think he's
going to ask us not to go. We've both been through the Burning; there's nothing good for us
if we return there.
For my part, that's alright. There's not much good left in me; just a broken heart and a
penchant for running away from good things. The least I can do is try and help Gwen's
mission to cure the Burning.
But Felix and Brynn? They have so much left to give to others; they don't deserve to have to
sacrifice themselves.
Brynn is a tangle of ink-stained fingers, bubbling laughter, and determination like steel, a
creature bred from freedom and recklessness, taken from her far too early. The girl who
emerged is soft-spoken but rough around the edges, with teeth for tearing and a silver
tongue. She is fracture patterns in exposed knuckles bones, spinning around in winding
circles like an autumn leaf with a smile on her face, a rose that somehow emerged from
thistles: red as blood, covered in thorns, and somehow still beautiful.
Felix is a ghost made of messy hair and a messier grin, with sarcastic front that covers a
kind heart. He'd chase constellations if it meant bringing a smile to someone's face, even if
those very stars would burn him in the end. He is lark songs in the morning dew, a rushing
torrent of a river, the rain falling with the sun still shining behind it.
"Can I come with you?" he asks, after a few moments of silence.
I'm almost immediately defensive.
"There's not way either of you are coming with me. Stay here and be happy; build lives for
yourselves. You've earned as much," I tell them, my voice hard as steel and my fists
clenched.
"Yeah, right. Listen here, you flip flop: Felix and I were planning on going to work for Argos
and Naxos anyway. We sat down at a meeting and we all knew what we wanted; you're not
going to change that," Brynn replies with a scoff.
They both stand there, arms folded across their chests as they stare me down.
"That's it then. Is a week enough time for us to get ready to go?" Felix asks, and I can't help
but let a small smirk slide across my face.
"It'll be enough," I say, and there's almost relief that comes with that.
This life we're expected to build here is, at least for me, like being imprisoned in the
impossible. Imprisoned in the illusion of a normal, happy family, imprisoned in the idea
that I can get rid of guilt, imprisoned in the lie that says I deserve better.
If I am to rebuild, let it be far from here.
 Twenty-Eight: Arrivals and Departures

Sunlight creeps over my face, illuminating my empty room and casting a warm glow on my
face. As much as I try, I can't just ignore it and go back to sleep.
It's gotten harder and harder lately, both to fall asleep and return to it once I get there.
There's always nightmares of losing people, always dreams of things I know I can't have,
always thoughts that haunt me once I'm awake.
With a heavy sigh, I roll over and hope that pulling the sheets closer to my chin will help me
fall back into slumber.
The door closes downstairs, signifying a certain someone's arrival, but don't really let
myself open my eyes.
Echo's home. She didn't come home yesterday night, and as much as I'd love to make things
right, I know she'll talk to me when she chooses to, not when I want to.
After a short moment of time that I assume she uses to remove her jacket and shoes, I hear
her bare feet padding up the stairs in my direction. The door creaks open, and her eyes
meet my half-open ones cautiously. The bed dips as she takes a seat near the backboard of
the mattress frame, and I sit up slowly as she merely looks me over, gauging my reaction.
"You didn't come back," I mutter sleepily, rubbing my eyes with a yawn as I look at my
older sister. Her hair is half-braided and still wet, and she's still wearing yesterday's
clothes. Wherever she was had a shower, but not fresh clothes for her. I wonder where.
(Hayden's, obviously—but I doubt she'll admit it.)
"I had some things to think about," she tells me quietly, and then averts her eyes from mine,
choosing instead to focus on the fabric of her jeans as she chews on her lower lip.
"I'm sorry," she finally admits, looking back up at me with apology in her stare.
"For what? I'm the idiot who's being selfish,"
"No. You need this, Ari. I should've been more understanding. I can't come with you, but if
this is what you want, then I'll be happy for you all the same. Just promise me you'll keep in
touch?" she asks, her voice timid and generally uncharacteristic. I don't answer her for a
few seconds, and then lean forward to hug her tightly.
Echo lets out a breath of relief and buries her face into my shoulder.
"Of course," I assure her, and she lets out a little laugh.
"I'm gonna miss you though, you idiot," she says, pulling away to punch my arm soundly. I
let out a hiss of pain that's mostly exaggerated, laughing a little as we both just sit there in
the morning sunlight, at peace once again.
"Brynn and Felix are coming with me," I tell her, my tone a bit more somber and expecting
her to be the same. Instead, she merely raises an eyebrow and lets out a laugh.
"Good luck. Try not to let them kill each other," she teases, earning a chuckle and a grin.
We quickly decide to head out into town to get some food for the arrival of our parents,
recruiting Titus over the phone. A lot of me worries about how my parents will react to me
leaving right after being reunited with them. The truth is simply that I don't know if we
really can be a family after all of this. It took me so long to come to terms with my mother's
death, and Ezekiel is less my father and more some ghost of a past I never knew. My family
was always far from perfect, and then finding out that half of that family wasn't yours at all
is even more world-shaking.
Titus meets us outside, in front of our house, but my attention is far from my brother.
It's been two weeks since I've last seen him, and his eyes are still the same stormy blue
even from across the gravel path. His hair is unkempt, his beat-up leather jacket over his
sagged shoulders as he fiddles with the keys to his house. There's a few bags of groceries
lying spread out near the door, and as he reaches back to grab them, he realizes I'm there.
Kyros.
And all he does is stare.
It wouldn't take much; he could come over and merely ask to talk, and Echo and Titus
would understand. I wouldn't leave Canaan, we'd talk things through, and end up with the
lives I'm pretty sure we both dreamed of.
Instead, he merely watches me with a gaze I can't really read before turning away and
resuming with his groceries.
Whatever hope I had left goes inside with him.
"Come on," Echo urges, noticing the whole scenario and realizing things won't play out
before I do.
On the way to the city on the train, all I do is pull my knees up to my chest and wait.
I don't say a word. There isn't anything to say.
Kyros is the color of flames and burning coals, the burning, aching red of heart-blood and
the blazing orange-yellow of a fire, with eyes that somehow carry the ocean.
I am still green. I am still shattered glass stained with years of self-negligence, still sharp
around the edges and with an exoskeleton of iron, knuckles bruised and hands worked to
the bone.
Colors were always somewhat overwhelming, anyway.
"I'm so sorry, Ari," Echo tells me, and I let my legs fall and my feet touch the gently
rumbling floor as I meet her eyes. I snap out of my own self-pity fairly quickly, sucking in a
breath and forcing a smile.
"For what?"
Our first stop is a grocery store, and Titus lists the things we have to do the whole way
through: cook dinner, stock the fridge, vacuum the floor, buy flowers for Mom, clear out
week-old dishes from the sink, remove traces of movie nights from the coffee tables,
organize the shoes and jackets by the door, so on and so forth. Echo and I sort of let him
rant, already fully aware of the list of chores we need to get out of the way.
Since Titus shares his house with Felix, it was fairly easy to agree that Echo and I would be
hosting our parents for tonight, seeing as Athena will stay with Ezekiel from here on out.
I still don't know how I really feel about all this. Ezekiel's nice enough, and he very clearly
cares about all of us, but he's not the man we grew up with. Is he better than Matthias?
Probably, but we've only just met him. I honestly just want Mom to be happy, and her
happiness doesn't really revolve around me anymore. That's okay. We all move on, I guess.
After we're all satisfied with our choices for dinner and a couple other planned meals, we
head back to the house with little incident.
Titus offers to put everything away so Echo and I have enough time to move our things into
their hiding places.
"So where did you actually end up staying yesterday?" I ask Echo, who merely gives me a
look that tells me she knows that I know.
"No. Freaking. Way," I grin, laughing a little at her tiny smirk that accompanies a little bit of
blushing.
"Not like that. We just talked for a long time, and then went to sleep. He slept on the couch.
Get your head out of the gutter," she teases, and I can't help but laugh a little bit with her.
"I'm happy for you," I say, and she gives me an honest smile.
"Thanks. It took us long enough," Echo kind of scoffs, tossing me a sweater from the floor of
my room.
Before we know it, the three Thorne siblings are standing nervously on Canaan's dock,
watching with jittery souls as the massive transport boat docks.
We were there just a few months ago, with wide eyes and wonder at the massive island
before us. I can't tell if we're more broken or less so now.
I see Athena before she sees me, her chestnut hair still braided carefully behind her head by
bony fingers, her small figure almost dwarfed next to Ezekiel's menacing form. My mother
was always small in stature, but terrifyingly quick and a lot stronger than she looks.
Once she catches sight of us, I don't think anyone can help but smile as we wave sort of
awkwardly at our parents.
"I don't know how I'm ever gonna get used to this," Ezekiel laughs once we're within
earshot, pulling Titus, the one standing nearest to him, into a bear hug. Athena gives me a
stunning smile before embracing me tightly, like this is the last time she'll see me. I can't
help but smile, despite the sudden pang in my heart as I realize I'm going to have to tell her
I'm leaving soon.
"I missed you," she merely tells me, her hand cupping my cheek gently as she just sort of
takes in the fact that we're actually alive, and reunited. I'd imagine my face mirrors her
expression of borderline awe. It's not every day that the dead walk again.
Dinner goes well. We manage not to burn anything, and the food emerges halfway decent.
All of us kind of dance around what's coming, filling the air with small talk and pointless
questions.
Where did you guys stay? How's it been? Were goodbyes hard? Is Mr. Sodorin still singing
at early hours of the morning? How is Mrs. Thompson's new kitten?
"I have to tell you guys something," Titus finally breaks, staring down our parents with a
sudden seriousness.
"I'm... I'm not going to be around here by tomorrow morning," my brother finally admits,
and you can almost hear my parents' jaws drop.
"You're... you're leaving?" Ezekiel splutters, and Titus merely nods once solemnly.
"I'm moving to Canaan's research and BioTech division—on a smaller island a distance
away. I'm... I'm trying to see what things will be like if I chase something new. If I chase a
career, if I chase... a relationship," he admits, and my parents' confusion slowly starts to
fade.
"Eva?" our father asks, and Titus merely nods again. Athena's face cracks into a small but
sad smile, somehow still filled with understanding.
"Then you chase those things, and enjoy every second of it. You've earned as much," my
mother tells him, and he lets out a relieved sort of laugh.
I can feel my knuckles go white as I clutch my knees in a panic.
"I, uh..." I start, reaching up to jab my fingers into my hair nervously.
"I'm going, too. To Argos,"
There's less understanding in my parents' faces. Titus is chasing a life, chasing a new
beginning and a person he cares about. He's facing his problems.
How do I tell them that I'm doing the opposite? I'm chasing death and running from
everything, including the people I care about. I'm running from my problems.
"Argos?" Athena splutters, her eyes filled with worry.
"Yeah. I've been offered a job there,"
"What... what about the rest of us? Your friends?! Kyros?!" she asks, and I suck in a sharp
breath.
"You guys can do just fine without me. My friends are moving on, other than Felix and
Brynn. They're coming with me," I say, and then hesitate to tell them the next part. Echo
merely watches me, knowing she can't do anything but dying to help anyway.
"Kyros... we're not talking anymore. I need to rebuild apart from other people. Find out who
I am," I manage to spit, feeling my throat tighten as my words turn to ice. All my parents
can do is stare blankly at me, both of them shocked at my sudden outburst.
"And this needs to be with Argos? Ari, they're all dangerous. I don't know that..." Ezekiel
starts, but I cut him off before he can finish.
"I know it's dangerous, but so am I. I'll be fine," I say, and my father purses his lips as he
watches me with a fair amount of concern. My mother, on the other hand, merely looks
hurt.
"Well, then I guess we'll enjoy what little time we have left with you," she says, offering a
forced smile and refocusing on her food.
Echo merely gives me a small smile that I think she means as encouraging, but comes
across as sort of apologetic. Titus' face is unmoving from his somber expression, and the
rest of dinner passes by in an awkward silence. Titus says his tearful goodbyes to our
parents, swearing he'll come by early tomorrow to say goodbye to Echo and I.
Ezekiel is cold to all of us as he leaves, probably to go home and cool off, reconsidering
everything that went wrong in such a short span of time.
My mother is more understanding. She merely hugs me tightly, saying we really do need to
talk before I go, and exits quietly.
"That went... a lot worse than what I was expecting," Echo admits ruefully, and I can't help
but scoff.
"No kidding,"
Echo lets out a groan of annoyance as she sits down on the couch, pulling a folded blanket
off of the armrest and up to her chin as she pats the spot next to her.
"What happened outside today? With Kyros?" she asks, and I let out heavy sigh. Another
story I have no idea how to explain.
"I'm not really sure. Part of me was desperate for him to come and talk to me, tell me he
was willing to work this out. If he said... anything, really, I'd probably be cancelling the
whole trip right now. But he doesn't, which just proves he doesn't care as much as I thought
he did," I sort of manage to huff, which leave Echo kind of ticked.
"I'm disappointed in him, too. I thought for sure he would've talked to you by now," she
agrees, and I merely shrug.
"It's whatever. I'll find a way to get past this," is all I can reply with.
"Somehow, I always do,"
 Twenty-Nine: We All Fall Down

A/N: I'm so sorry this took me so long! The next (and final!) chapter will be up at
some point soon! Thank you all so much for reading!

Breath in, breath out. You can do this.

The worn-out sneakers on my feet stomp in almost a fury against the grass beneath, having
left paved paths behind far too long ago. All I can see now are forests and mountains, the
only sign of life being the cities in the distance. It's harder, and more painful, but it's quiet,
and free of interruptions.
Running around the area beyond our houses has become a sort of escape at this point. After
a tearful goodbye early this morning to Titus and Eva, I couldn't bring myself to stay
around there for much longer.
There's always a sort of chill in the air whenever I head out this early, the awful kind that
sticks to the inside of your lungs and burns up your throat. It's probably because it's so
soon after dew falls, but it's a little bit painful all the same, and that's coming from someone
who loves cold weather.
I stop in a small clearing near the top of a hill, bending over as I suck in gulps of air that still
don't see to satisfy my aching lungs.
This hill overlooks the slope the houses are built on, as well as a few other homes nearby.
You'd think, looking down on the gray-slat roofs from up here, that there weren't a whole
bunch of heartbreak stories beneath them.
I've done this often enough to know what sort of things to expect; the sudden fluttering of
birds, movement in the houses beneath, the rumbling of a train in the distance. I don't think
I would ever expect someone else to run into my little clearing, much less Felix. He sees me
and kind of startles, and then gives me a confused sort of look.
"Hello?" he questions somewhat breathlessly, and then sits next to me when I give him a
half-hearted wave.
"Did you hear that Brynn told Ky she was leaving?" Felix says, after sitting next to me for a
few seconds in silence. I whirl to glare at him, feeling fury rise up in my veins. Seeing my
expression, he's quick to explain.
"No, no, it's a good thing. She only told him about herself. He doesn't know about me or you.
Honestly, the only ones who know are us and Echo, now that Titus is gone,"
"Yeah, let's keep it that way," I huff, and Felix merely looks at me with what I think is
concern.
"I hope that this helps you instead of hurts you, Ari," he tells me, and I shoot him a confused
glare.
"What's that supposed to mean?"
"Just... I hope you actually do get better, like we're all thinking. I would hate to see you lose
yourself instead of finding whatever it is you're looking for," he says, watching me carefully
as he waits for me reaction. I don't meet his eyes as I answer.
"Yeah," is all I can mutter in response, leaving silence lingering in the chilly air. There's lost
stories in the air between us, much like there's ghosts between my brother and my mother.
I don't think either of us would have ever dreamed that this is where our lives would be.
Felix was meant to grow into his career as a Builder, capable of scaling walls and
clambering over rooftops to repair whatever damage people could manage to cook up. He
was going to marry Callista someday, raise their kids to be whatever their little hearts
desired. They would grow old together.
Callista is on the opposite side of the earth now, and though he'll probably be closer to her
in presence, they'll be no closer in spirit. He doesn't remember her. Doesn't remember the
day I introduced them to each other, doesn't remember how her eyes would spark
whenever he walked into the room, doesn't remember the excited conversations I had with
her about him. He'll throw himself back into the fray of this brave new world we've
discovered, where growing old with anyone is a luxury we can't afford to dream of.
I was supposed to be a doctor; to heal, to repair. Instead, I'm running towards a life where
all I will do run from everything I thought was mine.
Somehow, the sun will still rise, and I with it. The earth will still spin in dizzy circles, the
birds will still sing. Lives moves on.
"I'll find a way to fight it, even if I do lose myself. Don't worry about me," I tell Felix, who
merely grins a little at me before looking back out at the houses beneath.
"Whatever you say," he sort of laughs, the seriousness quickly fading from the air as my
clown of a friend starts to revert to his normal self.
"Are you packed yet? We leave in two days now," Felix almost warns, and I nod.
"Yeah. I have a couple things left to grab, but for the most part, I'm fine. I'm gonna go talk to
Gwen after this," I tell him, and he nods approvingly.
"Good. I'll see you later?" he asks, standing up and stretching a little as he prepares to
continue his run. I nod and give him a weak smile, and he waves with a goofy grin before
running further up the hill. I choose to head back now, managing to avoid everyone,
shower, and jump in the train to Gwen's spire before anyone can question where I'm going.
I still don't think I'll ever get used to walking through the spire's ominous hallways, even
though I've spent the past month coming here all the time.
When I step into the woman's room, she's standing off by the window again, merely
watching the kingdom she lords over. I barely have time to react as she suddenly hurtles a
throwing knife at my face.
Somehow, my hand flies forward and catches the blade as it whizzes by my face, leaving me
shocked and Gwen pleased.
"You know, Ariadne, the after-effects of the Burning are both awful and phenomenal. The
emotional side of things is increased aggression, sometimes irrational behavior, and
elevated levels of oxytocin, vasopressin, and corticotropin released from the hypothalamus.
Rage, in other words," she tells me, and I just stand there and continue to gawk at both the
fact that I caught the knife and that she threw one at me in the first place.
"The second part in physical. Your reflexes are heightened to an almost impossible
standard, and strength is often slightly increased. The eye color changes as a result of lack
of pigment left over to color the iris again. Memory loss always occurs, but the amount of
memories lost depends on how long the person had the sickness for, or even how well their
body fought off the disease. In some rare cases, hair loses pigment as well, although none of
you experienced that," Gwen tells me, and I kind of let out a heavy sigh and toss the knife
onto a coffee table. This isn't the first time I've randomly been challenged as soon as I
walked in, but I'm still not used to it. It's weird. And scary.
"Anyway. You wanted to speak to me?" she questions, and she turns to meet my eyes.
"I've made my decision. I'll take the job," I tell her, chin up as my voice turns to steel. She
watches me for a few seconds, a pleased expression sliding across her stoic features.
"I knew you would. I'd assume you already have plans?" she questions, and I nod solemnly.
"Brynn and Felix are coming, too," I tell her, and to my surprise, there's no rebuttal from
her.
"Then the three of you leave for Naxos in New Byzantine. Anything else?" she questions,
and I shake my head. With a wave of her hand, I'm dismissed and sent back off down the
elevators and creepy hallways.
Echo is curled up on the couch with a blanket once I get home, Hayden asleep next to her
with his head resting on her leg.
They look peaceful. My sister is half asleep, but her fingers are still absentmindedly dancing
through Hayden's dark blond curls. Her other hand is held by his gently, and I think even in
his sleep, he holding onto her like a lifeline.
I can't help but smile. They both deserve this happiness they're finding.
Echo stirs a little bit as I shut the door, and comes fully awake once she sees me. She
breathes out my name sleepily and gently untangles herself from Hayden, who merely
subconsciously huffs before continuing his nap.
"How'd it go?" she whispers, wiping away a yawn as she reaches out to grab hold of my
hand.

"It went well. We leave in 2 days," I reply, as quietly as possible. My sister merely smiles
half-heartedly and pulls me into a tight embrace. For a few seconds, she doesn't say
anything, but with a sniffle, she speaks.
"I'm going to miss you. So much," she mumbles, her voice breaking a little at the end. I have
to fight to hold back tears as I bury my face into her shoulder.
"Swear to me; swear to me that you won't forget me," I manage to splutter. My sister
merely looks at me with her eyes full of tears, and then shakes her head sternly.
"I wouldn't dream of it. You're my favorite part of the only family I have,"
I manage to let out a watery chuckle.
"Thanks,"
"What else do you need packed?" Echo asks, and I merely shake my head.
"Nothing, really. I just need to say bye to Mom and Ezekiel," I say, and with a quick nod, my
sister sends me off. I manage to grab the flowers I'd bought for Mom off the kitchen
counter, and hop onto the train heading into the city.
The massive apartment building is intimidating in and of itself, and my sneakers stand in
sharp contrast to the dark granite flooring on the way to my mother's new home. In an
oversized gray sweater that I think belonged to Titus at some point, I feel so much smaller
than I should. I never thought the day would come where I'd be so petrified to speaking to
my own mother.
Athena Thorne is waiting with a wary gaze as I knock on the door of her and Ezekiel's
apartment.
"Ari," she greets, her cold tone resembling the woman who raised me rather than the
mother I'd reunited with only a few weeks ago.
"Hey," is all I can really muster in response, and all she can offer is a weak smile.
"I... I have to say goodbye," I say, sucking in a sharp breath halfway through the sentence so
as to stop the tears threatening to spill down my cheeks. Athena merely ushers me into the
house, the bouquet of flowers rustling softly as she sets them gently on the counter. The
room is silent as she sinks slowly into the couch, with me across from her. The apartment
she shares with Ezekiel is extremely spacious and borders on luxury, making me feel even
smaller as I pull my knees up to my chest.
"There's a lot more than needs to be said, but not nearly enough time, and for that I'm so, so
sorry," I start, stopping as my wavering voice threatens to crack.
"I know I should stay with you and Ezekiel, especially after everything we've escaped from,
but... I can't, Mom. I'm not strong enough. I never have been,"
Athena's lips purse carefully, her eyes flickering up to meet mine.
"Ari, there's no explanation for what you're about to do. You could have every reason in the
whole world, and it still wouldn't change the fact that I might never see you again. You
know the dangers of this. I can only hope that you know enough about yourself to know
when to get out. Don't lose yourself through this, Sweetheart. If you need to get away for a
while, then go. But never forget that you can always come home," she says, and the tears
are well on their way down my cheeks before I can even react to my mother's embrace.
I get back to an empty house, my ragged breathing being the only thing left to shatter the
still air.
I'm leaving tomorrow. Everything I've known since I left the dome, everything I've known
since before I knew about the everything outside... gone, left behind in the dust and the
ashes of the desert.
If I am the sun I've been so deathly afraid of, then I will rage and I will burn. I will tear the
very stars from the sky if they dare stand in my way, and if the moon should stand in my
wake, it shall crumble while I remain.
Despite the fiery conviction I try to tell myself I am upholding, something in my chest is still
burning, boiling, tumultuous and erratic, clawing up into my throat with icy talons. Doubt.
But it's too late to question things now.
Come fire and flood, this is the life I'm choosing. For once in my life, I am choosing.
This is my choice. My childhood wasn't, fleeing into the desert wasn't, Mikhail's death
wasn't, and Kyros' feeling weren't. But this is.
And in that, I will stand.
 Thirty: Come Again Another Day

A/N: It's sort of sad that all of my chapters start with apologies for being late, but
here's the final chapter! Enjoy, friends!

I'm four years old. It's dark outside, with nothing but city lights keeping the stars from
shining. My feet are bleeding because of broken glass, thrown in anger by the man I called
my father in his frustration at my mother. All I could repeat in my head, like a sick sort of
mantra, was "Don't cry,". If Titus had seen me, he would've been worried, too. That was a
weakness I could not afford; my brother did not need a wimp of a sister to add to his
already heavy burden, and I did not need someone to worry about me. I stole some
bandages from my mother's room and forced myself to stomach the pain of my sneakers
for the next week or two. It's a wonder nothing ever got infected.
I'm six years old. The sun is hidden behind clouds that bring nothing but dry lightning, but
it's not like I can see it this far underground. Other children laugh as the girl from the
Topside stumbles blindly after her older brother in the streets. The street kids of the lower
levels are tough as nails, and I decided that day that I was going to grow up to be just as
tough as they. When I first meet Felix in the spring, I learn how to laugh again. Somehow,
no matter how bad things feel like they get, the boy with the scruffy dark hair and goofball
grin managed to make me relearn what it meant to smile. I wish now that I had retained
some of that knowledge; every day, it moves farther and farther away.
I'm eight years old. There's something like thunderstorms in the midday air, with swirling
dust covering the dome that was meant to filter sunlight. At first, the ginger-haired girl who
transferred into my class strikes me as sour, but the more time I spent with her, the more I
realized the kindred spirit we shared. Soon, I think I was closer to Callista than to Felix, and
both would remain my closest friends for many years to come.
I'm twelve years old. Winter isn't exactly thrilling when the world is consumed by desert,
but somehow, the fractured culture has retained some memory of christmas. There's no
snow or caroling or really any of those things talked about in the Histories, except for the
lights and gifts for those who can afford them. Titus, now at eighteen, had only told me
yesterday that he was leaving. Matthias, the man we thought was our father, had decided
that it was time for Titus to take his place in the world as one of the dome's Guardsmen,
and although we both know he'd rather be at home with me and Thea, this is what he has
always been raised for. The selfish part of me knows that when he leaves, my brother, my
protector, my best friend will be gone. I don't know how I'll survive it. It takes me weeks to
start to come to terms with it, and it takes Thea just as long to finally come to terms with
the fact that her feelings for my brother go beyond friendship. They officially start dating
one month before he leaves, and a part of me is bitter because I see him very little during
the time preceding his departure. I feel stupid now for my selfishness.
I'm fourteen years old. There's something almost funny about the fact that I'm choosing to
follow my mother's footsteps; I had always promised myself that I would never be like her.
Somehow, though, when the Headmaster of Choosing asks me which career I will be
pursuing, my stupid self sticks up her chin and says, "I'm going to be a doctor." I can almost
hear Felix and Callista's jaws hit the ground. My stupid teenager self almost relishes the
shock my friends give me, because it proves only one thing: I am still my own. Though some
part of me is apparently bound to my mother's history, I still have the power to choose. The
world will not fall if I choose something selfishly, and it will not flourish if I choose
selflessly. I am just Ariadne Simon, the tired girl from the shattered home of glass that
wants nothing if not a choice. The shriveled husk of that girl that remains within me still
longs for her beating heart; for the hope that wedged itself through her pulsing lungs.
I'm sixteen years old. The bitterness that had long since set roots in my throat only
continues to grow. The few days of refuge are spent hiding in the stale smoke of the Lower
Levels, the pulse of music replacing my frail heartbeat more often than not. Callista and
Felix, consumed with each other, either don't notice or don't comment on the slow but
accelerating fade that I'm moving towards. My life is a whirlwind of two things: my studies
and my escapes. If you didn't know better, you wouldn't know where I lived... or if I had a
place to live. The coldness that seeps through my veins longs for the end of schooling, to
create my own life. Time flies by, and before I know it, I have to adjust to a life where I'll
actually earn my place in this world by my mother's side. I'll turn these frail bones to steel,
even if it kills me.
I'm seventeen years old. This was meant to be the year that I would start over. Instead, the
sand sinks beneath my feet, and the rough-spun cloth wrapped around my face feels like
sandpaper as I trudge through the desert. So much has changed; about myself, about the
people I surround myself with, about how I see the world, about what the world looks like.
There is no line between man and monster; I am among those who dread the morning light
for the sake of others, and dread the setting of the sun for the sake of my dreams. Nothing is
safe, nothing is sacred, nothing is mine. All concepts of becoming steel are shattered like
the reality of the glass I am made of, the glass that could not hold together my friends, my
family, or myself. All I know is death and loss and pain, and so that is what I will become.
I'm eighteen years old. The air is cold, and I think I'm starting to get used to it. The weight I
now carry is so far beyond my own feeble comprehension; my bones have long since been
crushed beneath the burden of it. Even those I once have left me: a list of names that's
starting to eerily resemble a hit list. Maybe that's all that I'm left with now: hands that do
more damage than good.
If I am meant only to damage, then let me bring havoc and hell to those who cross me.
The scared little girl who used to live under the glass dome is long dead, her lungs choked
with loss and her spine shattered under crippling guilt. Sometimes I can still feel her
clawing at my throat, screaming for freedom that will never seep through the skeleton she's
trapped under. Mortal mankind was never made for weeping, for loss. When you become
sorrow, you lose your humanity. That is what I've become: sorrow.
There is nothing left for me here. There is no room for ash and bones among daises and
birdsong, no room for icy winter in the blossom of summer.
Brynn comes knocking on my door in the early hours of the morning, the clock on my
bedside reading 3:43 AM. She comes to make sure I'm awake, but there really isn't a need. I
never fell asleep anyway.
"Ready?" is all she asks, a bittersweet smile stretching across her pale features. I can only
muster a nod, my icy fingers tightening around the strap of my backpack. The tapping of my
shoes against the wooden flooring is quiet enough, but my sister's voice fills the air anyway.
She didn't sleep either.
Brynn takes my backpack wordlessly and motions for me to go, and without really being
called twice, I take a seat at the foot of Echo's bed. Neither of us speak for a few seconds, my
sister's sleepy frame taking the time to adjust to the moonlight.
"This is it, then," she merely offers, and I nod solemnly.
"I think so."
"Promise me you'll call?"
"I promise," I say, and she nods approvingly.
"I love you, Ari. Never forget that."
"I love you too. Get some sleep, yeah?" I offer, and she nods quickly. With a quick hug, her
tired bones bury her back into her blankets.
I make it back downstairs and can't help but take in the sight of this house one more time.
This is the future I could've had, living out the rest of my life by my family's side. They
really aren't my family anymore, though. They belonged to Ariadne Simon, and she would
have been overjoyed to see them again. Ariadne Thorne is a shell of a person at this point,
made of scars and grief and shards of ice. There is no home for her among the
constellations, among the stars. There is no place for the dead among the living.
My lungs fill with a sharp breath, and with clenched teeth, I turn away. Moonlight dances
across the flooring of the house. Brynn pushes the door open with barely a creak,
illuminating the dark house if only just a little bit more. A few feet away, his boots
crunching against the gravel, Felix is waiting with a goofy grin on his face. Brynn joins him,
but I find my feet frozen to the ground, unable to take another step.
I hesitate, my fingers wrapped around the metallic chill of the door handle. There's a light
breeze that sends a shiver up my spine, and in the half-light of the stars, I can see the
confusion stretch across Brynn and Felix's faces as I stop moving. I take my journal out of
the front pocket of my backpack and gently lay the bag onto the floor before almost
noiselessly tearing out a piece of paper.
"Ari, you coming?" Brynn asks me in a hoarse whisper, and Felix opens his mouth to agree
before I hold up a finger.
With trembling fingers, I press the paper against the door and begin to write. Echo
deserves at least an explanation for everything.
I realize at some point that all I'm doing is attempting to give a half-hearted excuse that
even I don't believe in, but I can't bring myself to turn back. I can't stay. I can't.
The scrappy piece of paper is tossed onto the kitchen counter hesitantly, floating
downwards in two crescents before sliding against the marble without a sound.
With the strap of my backpack digging into my shoulder hard enough to sting, I push the
creaky door open carefully and head out.
I don't look back.
 Epilogue

Time is always relative to those who feel its ravages.

The prince's crown has fallen. There is no princess there to catch it. Not this time. He
thinks, maybe, not ever again.
The princess has both her queen and her king back, but neither are really hers. She thinks
they will never be. They belonged to the girl she used to be, and the person she is now can't
accept their idea of contentedness.
When she was young, she liked to dream about the angels, with their soft white tunics, their
soft voices, their soft spirits, their soft songs. But Gabriel has wings of star-fire and a halo of
barbed wire, and his voice shatters the bedroom mirror every time he speaks.
Hers are rattled bones. She might even be the one who rattled them.
The world is changing, and she likes to think it doesn't matter. It doesn't matter because
she's so far removed from it.
Look back at the mess you've made, my dear. You try your best to pick up the fragments.
Your ghosts will make the same mistakes. You will make the same mistakes. This will be
your legacy, if you let it.
But oh, darling, there's a song hidden in your quiet mouth somewhere. How deep must you
reach to find it? How many beating organs must you tear out before the song breaks free?
You twirl a string around your fingers, but you begin to wonder what would happen if you
tied it around your neck. You might be flesh and bones and a beating heart, but you feel like
sallow skin hangs off your brittle bones, and your heart might not even be beating
anymore. It feels dead. You feel dead. You shouldn't, but you do,
you do,
you do.
Can you feel how your withered heart is opening up? It's ready to heal.
Will you let it?
 Author's Note

Two down, one to go!

If you had told me a while back that I would have received this much support for these
books despite several late chapters, I probably would've laughed. Yet here we are!

Thank you all so much for all of the support and interests in these stories! I really
appreciate it all of the sweet comments and votes, even if I'm not the best and replying to
them!

As a lot of you have guessed, Ashes is book 2 of what has now been decided as a three part
series. Book three, titled "Rain", is now up on my profile, and I hope you've all enjoyed
enough to stick around for the final part!

Much love,

Ana (angrychinchillanoise)

Psalm 86:12