 
### Escape from Harrizel

By

C. G. Coppola

SMASHWORDS EDITION

* * * *

PUBLISHED BY:

C. G. Coppola on Smashwords

Escape from Harrizel

Copyright © 2013 by C. G. Coppola

Cover photo copyright C. G. Coppola

Cover by Joleene Naylor

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. It remains the copyrighted property of the author and may not be reproduced, scanned, or distributed for any commercial or non-commercial use without permission from the author. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to persons, living or dead, or places, events or locales is purely coincidental. The characters are productions of the author's imagination and used fictitiously.

Adult Reading Material

******

Many thanks to everyone who supported and encouraged me throughout this process—I couldn't have done it without any of you! Special thanks to my editor, Jennifer Flax, and my amazing cover designer, Joleene Naylor, for helping make this story come to life.

******

For the lovers, the dreamers and you, Kermit.

Thank you for making me a believer.

******

Escape from Harrizel

  1. Escort

  2. Arrival

  3. Castle

  4. Allies

  5. Boy from the Ruins

  6. Secrets Revealed

  7. Maze

  8. Camp

  9. Challenge

  10. Pills and Passageways

  11. Rox

  12. Snatchings

  13. Review

  14. Rogues

  15. Sampson

  16. Ellae

  17. Issues

  18. Confessions

  19. Searching

  20. Adrenaline

  21. Blovid's Help

  22. Attack

  23. Protection

  24. Rogue Rox

  25. Revolt

  26. Reminders

  27. Memories

  28. Preparation

  29. Second Battle of Harrizel

  30. Departures

BONUS MATERIAL:

First Sighting

The Challenge

First Kiss

#  Chapter One: Escort

" _Can you hear me?"_

It's one long blurred sound, like someone shouting at the other end of a tunnel. The words are there for a second, broken apart for me to hear, to make sense of, but then they're gone again, swept away as their call dies faintly in the distance. They repeat a moment later, in four distinct verses, the third highest in pitch. It's a question.

But what's he asking?

It must be important by the way his blue eyes flicker between mine. But then they're gone. Disappearing. They're always disappearing, flashing in and out like an erratic switch offering intervals of sight. One minute he's here, a moist brow wiped clean by an olive green sleeve and the next there's nothing. Darkness that is also white, quiet and still. And I'm alone.

" _Fallon, can you hear me?"_

The sound of my name triggers a rush of questions I want answered all at once. Is my name really Fallon? Why does that sound so wrong and yet, familiar? Where am I? What happened? And most importantly, why can't I remember?

I nod, although my guess at the question is only that.

"Tell me you can hear me." His voice echoes but grows tighter than before, more distinct. The hum is gone and words are here. The spells of darkness turn to sight and he's here, over me, wiping a brown curl from my face. "Fallon?"

"I can hear you," I say, surprised by the sound of my voice. That much is familiar.

"Can you sit up?"

I try, but my abdomen roars with soreness, like a muscle spasm from one too many sit-ups. My arms shake, but his hands are around them in a second. Soft and papery, like an old man. Like a grandpa. Is he mine?

He helps pull my back from the floor and I stifle a cry at the throbbing pain. Once up, I see my legs outstretched in front of me—frayed bellbottom jeans with splatters of crimson on my muddied Converse. The crimson dots the gray torso of my baseball tee, a few specks staining the black sleeves. A heavy pounding erupts at the back of my head and I reach my hand around it, feeling a large lump under the crown. A curtain of curls pads the bump which cups easily into the small of my hand.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm dizzy," I gulp saliva down a raw throat. "I feel like I've been hit with a cinder block."

We're in a narrow hallway, lined in brown cabinets, a few unevenly hanging from their hinges. A black oven sits to my left with a tattered dishrag of snowman and holly bushes hanging from the handle. There's a plastic gray trashcan across from me, cornered by two walls of yellow and orange wallpaper.

"Is this your house?" I turn to the man. He has yellow-white hair peppered with gray, and eyes that glimmer an unnatural blue, as if he'd picked the color from a paint shop himself.

"No."

"Are we trespassing?"

"We'll be fine," he offers his hand, "Come, let me help you up."

I take it but my legs are unstable. It's a struggle to put pressure on them but I manage and find myself upright, immediately overlooking a dining room with a solid oak table. Beyond it, a long, empty sitting space with a television, yellowy-beige couch and two maroon chairs—one near the kitchen and the other, caddy cornered by the sliding glass door. A narrow hallway separates the couch and chair on the same wall.

"Can you stand?" he asks, holding my elbows in his hands.

"I'd rather sit," I lock eyes on the couch beyond him. He walks me over, hands still cupping my elbows, and places me down gently. "What happened?"

He drops his mouth to say something but instead, turns and heads for the kitchen, opening a cabinet that sends a piercing squeak into the air. "Would you care for something to drink?"

"Water, if you have it."

The yellow and orange wallpaper continues into the room, lighting the space. A brown shag carpet lines the floors, sinking under a wooden stand which supports a small television at the other end of the room, a thin layer of dust coating the screen. There's a large sliding glass door to my right with billowing red sheers on either end, whisking in the scent of oncoming rain.

"Where are we?"

"In a friend's house," he turns off the faucet.

"Are they here?"

He approaches, his smile turning down. "Not anymore. Have some water," he says and hands me a glass of clear liquid. I take it and gulp the cool beverage quickly. It soothes my throat, the sensation trickling into my chest as the pain in my head abates.

He takes a seat opposite me, in the maroon chair near the television and crosses one khaki leg over the other. I empty the glass in one sip and set it next to me on a wooden end table. I lick my lips, lapping up the remaining liquid. "Thank you."

"You're very welcome," he smiles. "I always find a good drink does the trick."

"Should we check the cabinets then?"

"Maybe in a bit," he laughs, "although, probably not the best idea in your condition."

"I don't know. I'm sure all it can do is help at this point."

"And how are you feeling?" he tries, "A bit better?"

"Not great."

"It'll subside here in a moment."

A long, silent minute passes before the wait becomes unbearable. "I'm sorry," I lean forward as my stomach roars. It might be rude to be so direct but with a migraine forming, I'm in no mood for evasiveness. "Can you tell me what's going on?"

"Yes..." he starts, clearing his throat, "but first, introductions are in order, don't you think? My name is Clarence." He waits and as if anticipating my struggle to respond, offers to help. "And you're Fallon."

Fallon. There it is again. My name. Or what should be my name. Something rings in my core so I try it on, testing it out. Fallon. _Fallon_. "No," I shake my head defiantly, "you have me mistaken for someone else."

"For whom?" he glances around the stark room.

"But that's not my name."

"Then what is?" Clarence asks, resting his chin in the fleshy groove between his pointer and thumb. A pompous grin sneaks across his lips in a challenging manner. I'm not one to falter under a haughty threat but when I go to respond, nothing comes to mind. I don't know what my name is. Panic sets in, swelling me with newfound fear. He must see it in my face because his voice softens as he says, "There's no need to be alarmed. You're perfectly safe. And this is normal."

"Not knowing your name is normal?"

"Well," he starts, his smile wavering, "not knowing your name _isn't_ normal but with the situation we find ourselves in, it is."

"And what situation is that?"

His smile vanishes completely. "Let's put that on hold for right now and focus on a few things," he threads his fingers together on his lap. "You're alive."

"Yes," I agree quickly.

"And you feel fine now?"

I lift my hand to the bump. "My head hurts... and I feel like I just birthed a rhinoceros," I look up to him, attempting to hide obvious panic behind calmer eyes. "Did I have some sort of accident? Did it cause me to have amnesia?"

"Oh no," he shakes his head, "nothing like that. You did have an accident—yes—but I saved you. If you know anything, know I'm here to help you, Fallon. I came for you as soon as I could."

He wants me to believe him. He _needs_ me to. This will only go well if I put my trust in him. A strong feeling—is it intuition?—suggests I should, but uncertainty pollutes it with doubt. Taking my time, I choose my words carefully, focusing on his unblinking blue eyes. "Are you a doctor?"

"No."

"A policeman? Therapist?"

"No and no," he refuses my guesses with a humorous shake of his head, Rumplelstiltskin reveling in his cryptic secret. Clarence's mouth turns up after a moment, "I'm curious to know why my occupation should define me?"

"...Trade says a lot about a person."

"True," Clarence nods along, "but I'm a man of many trades."

Why won't he just tell me? It's a game to him—all a game. I play along though, hoping to win some truth. "And your current trade?"

"Depends on how you look at it..." he sighs, shifting in his chair as he crosses his other leg. "Some use the word magician... though I'm far from pulling rabbits from my hat. Others say missionary, thief... sometimes liar."

"And what would _you_ choose?"

"Escort," he grins widely in a cocky sort of way, "at the present moment. Has a nice ring to it, don't you think?"

"Depends on how you look at it," I shoot back. And then, after a moment, "Where would you be taking me?"

"Home. To your _new_ home."

He's going too fast and not telling me anything. New home? What does this mean? A silent alarm rings in my head but I hide the fear in casual but curious words, playing along. "What happened to my old home?"

His eyes flicker from mine, to the kitchen on his right. "Give it a minute and you'll remember. All of it. All of _this_ ," he glances around the room as if seeing it for the first time.

"Remember what?"

Clarence returns my stare with sullen, eyes. How to tell me? After a moment, he utters two words so soft they could crumble into whispers at their weight. "The war."

The word is ice, sitting heavy in the air like a glacier, ready to break and crumble all in its path. I take a minute to repeat it, finding no friendlier welcome with my own rendition " _War_?"

"There was a war, a very terrible war, you see... and it was destroyed."

"My home had a war?" I ask, unable to hide the skepticism in my voice.

"No. _Earth_."

It hits me like a violent punch to the gut. Whatever he's doing, whatever game he's playing—it's real. I suppress the heat of panic rising to my cheeks and focus on the carpet, quickly calculating the situation. He's older than me but not ancient, and could probably catch me if I tried to run for it. But if he's planning on taking me somewhere, there will be no other time to escape. It's now or never.

"I can see you're trying to decide if I'm insane," he interrupts my thoughts with his smooth, velvety voice.

I suppress a gulp. "Aren't you?"

"It would seem that way, wouldn't it? But I assure you, Fallon, I'm in my right mind."

My eyes flicker to the door behind him. It could lead anywhere. Another bedroom, a closet. A back porch. "I need to use the bathroom."

"By all means," he waves me on, "if you feel you must feign a full bladder for a moment of solitude..."

"It's not for solitude."

"I know," he responds automatically, "but with no windows, there's no escape. So solitude is the best you have."

So he knows. If he knows and isn't trying to restrain me yet, maybe he won't. Maybe the best thing is to be direct and above that, more confident than I feel. When I speak, I use conviction as if my words are not up for debate.

"Earth didn't have a war."

"Give it a moment."

"But you're lying."

"Why are you fighting this?" he furrows his brows at me, as if I'd offended some crucial opinion of his. "I'm trying to help you."

"I don't believe you," I stand up, my legs still wobbly from the fresh weight. "Whose house are we in?"

"It's not a matter of believing if its fact," Clarence shakes his head, "and unfortunately, the people who lived here didn't survive. Some places remained more or less in-tact than others. I found you here."

My eyes drop from his to the floor. Clusters of fringe point in opposing directions, muddied by overuse, and the bottom cushion in the maroon chair sits lower and slightly discolored from the arm rests and back panel. A light coat of dust blankets the gray television but on the wooden stand supporting it, away from both Clarence and I, a circle of condensation remains.

A chill runs through me as I look back to him. "But why would I..."

"Clearly you were searching for food and water."

"And my clothes?"

"You must've rummaged through some old closets and found them. There's no other way."

I glance over his green button-up and khakis. "And yours?"

He hesitates for only a second. "Try to remember, Fallon. Think about it. Think about the famine. The rioting. When your government collapsed..."

"You said Earth."

He smirks at the correction, "Indeed I did. Some held hope America would bring about the change the world needed..." his voice trails off as he looks to the billowing red sheers, lost in his own thoughts.

When I realize he's not going to elaborate, I do a quick sweep of the room. There's the door behind him, which could lead anywhere. The glass panels to my right are closer to him and the hallway disappearing beyond the couch would only lead further into the house, not out of it.

But then there's the door to my left, at the end of a narrow entry way, just beyond the kitchen. I hadn't noticed it before, Clarence having led me into this room for our chat. He's seated still, gazing off and I'm already on my feet. I could do it. If I sprinted, flew through the door—granted it's unlocked—I could run as fast as possible, finding someone, _anyone_ who'd help. I could make the best attempt. I could escape.

"Fallon," Clarence says, his sights still set on the sliding glass panels, "it'd be best not to."

I freeze, dread returning. Is it too late? If I make for a run for the door now, will I reach it in time? Instead of fleeing immediately, I shift a step, careful to keep the sound of my shoes from betraying me. "You said you were here to help me."

Clarence breaks his gaze and looks at me. With surprising sincerity he admits, "I _am_."

Another step and his eyes drop to my feet.

"Then understand I'm fine on my own." Another two steps. "Always have been."

"Fallon..." he's requesting now, in a desperate way I almost feel sorry for. " _Please_ don't make this difficult."

Another step.

The door is right behind me. I'm closer to it then Clarence, who hasn't budged an inch. He sits deflated, as if he has no intention of running after me. Will he when he must? Or is that someone else's job? A new thought fills me with terror as I work out the possibility that maybe Clarence isn't alone in all this. The idea that someone could be waiting on the other side of the door fills me with newfound terror. But it doesn't matter at this point.

"Thank you for the water."

"And what do you think is out there?" he flies to a stand, his hand outstretched, mocking the door like some clichéd routine. "Salvation? Escape?" He walks closer as I back up, gripping the handle in a closed fist. "Think really hard, Fallon. _Think_ about it. What happened before you awoke?"

"I..." my mouth drops and just as I'm about to tell him it doesn't matter, I see it. _Hear_ it.

Fire.

Crackling as it cooks the night, the trees, the houses and the bodies. Children screaming, running from black clouds, desperately clutching bits of food, clothes, pieces of once- somethings.

"You see it, don't you?" he steps closer. "You remember now?" Another step.

Grey skies linger as ashes lie strewn about school graveyards. Nomads crossing deserts in the former cities, garbage overflowing like water from a mountainous fountain.

"Fallon," Clarence approaches slowly, extending his hand as he nearly closes the gap between us, "come with me... let me help you. Let me take you home."

He moves for the final step but I swing around, jetting out the door.

A gravel driveway leads to the same type of road ahead, the only interruption in an otherwise grassy field. There are no houses, nothing other than the road, which disappears into the distance both ways. Everything's out in the open, especially me, my heart racing as I quickly try to recalculate. I jet to the side of the house, passing an open garage and round the outside walls, keeping low, searching for a hiding place. But there's nothing.

"Fallon?" he steps through the front door.

Pressed against the wall, I slide down, inching my way toward the back. My pulse speeds, my breath coming in and out in rapid beats.

"I'd rather not do it this way..." his voice travels.

Behind the house, off in the distance, lies a thicket of trees following the road in both directions. It's a good fifty yards away but offers a canopy of coverage. If I sprinted, I might be able to—

"You won't make it," he calls from above, standing atop the roof. "But... might we hurry this up? I do have other appointments."

My stomach drops.

I'm running before I'm able to ponder, darting to the front of the house and into the open garage. An old Cadillac greets me, the walls lined with boxes and Christmas decorations, tools and lawn chairs. There's a door in the back and I race to it, pulling it slightly ajar. It leads into the house, across from the kitchen and dining room. Backing up, I head for a blockade of boxes and shrink to the ground behind them, waiting.

Footsteps enter.

They stop just as quickly. "Really, Fallon. Why are we playing this game?" A heavy sigh escapes. "I'm only here to help you." He moves on the other side of the car, toward the open door.

I creep in the opposite direction, behind the shield of boxes, back toward the outside light.

"The sooner you trust me," Clarence closes the door, still in the garage, "the sooner this will all be over."

He's rounding the front of the Cadillac and I'm nearly to its back bumper. I just need to slide out and make for the tree line and then...

...I'll figure something out.

"Fallon..." Clarence tries again but I'm already slipping past the wall and out of the garage.

Once outside, I book it. Running as fast as possible, I take off for the trees behind the house. My heart's racing, threatening to explode, my long legs not moving fast enough. I don't look back. There's only ahead. Only the camouflage that'll keep me hidden. I'm halfway there when his voice sounds next to me.

"The sooner you understand I'm here to _help_ you, the sooner I can take you home."

He must be running next to me, but I don't stop.

Keep going. Just keep going...

"Fallon..." he tries once more, his hand outstretched as he glides along next to me easily.

Almost to the trees...

But suddenly, he's there, in front of me by a yard, cutting off the tree line as an available exit. I dig my heels into the grass with a sudden halt. Which way? Which way? I'm ready to collapse but the fear of death keeps me moving. Spinning, I race in the opposite direction, back toward the house.

I don't get far.

Three sprinting strides and the ground's been slapped out from me. It slams into my back and head again, jolting my body with a sting before everything tightens to a paralyzing state.

"Boy, you can move," he sails in front of me, landing on his feet with catlike ease. "I expected it but..." and he exhales to himself, surprised.

I try to run but my ankles are bound, magnetized by invisible restraints. I sit up too quickly and without help from my arms, my stomach roars with instant regret. My hands are stuck, glued to the small of my back, bound by tangible space, like handcuffs made of air. Clarence approaches, standing over me, his body cut out from the grim, gray sky behind him.

"Now wasn't that fun?"

I search, my eyes darting fiercely, trying to find some way out of this. What are my other options? What else can I do? Is there someone nearby? I'm as good as dead anyway but I've got to try.

"Fallon..."

I let it out. The one good scream I've got in me. It's a blood-curdling cry that rips all the air from my lungs, alarming someone—anyone—that I'm here. That I'm about to be gone if they don't come and help. I know it's a long shot but what else can I do? Screaming is the best reaction to this. And also, the only reaction to him. How is he on the house one second and running side by side with me the next? Who is he? And better yet... _what_ is he?

"There's no point in screaming..." he laughs, indicating the obvious openness, "no one can hear you."

I'm tempted to do it again, to let out all fear pumping through me, but his light heartedness distracts me, boiling my insides with contempt. I'll be another dead body in a few seconds and he seems utterly amused by it. I'm not giving him any more pleasure.

"Do it!"

"Do what?" his nonplussed expression takes me off guard. "I don't know how many times I have to tell you," and now his voice strengthens. "I'm not here to _hurt_ you."

I roll my head back to the upside down trees, searching, seeking. But there's nothing, nothing that can help me. If he hasn't killed me by now, there's got to be a chance. Maybe I can talk him into letting me go. He enjoys conversing. Maybe I can trick him into freeing me.

"What do you want?" I look to him, trying to keep the anger from my tone.

"Are we to have the same conversation?"

"Tell me the _truth_."

"I've already tried," he tilts his head condescendingly, just enough to make a point. "You won't listen."

"Explain it again."

"Which part?"

"What you are!" I shout, casting a stare out to the trees. It still seems like a dream. How did he get there so fast? And then back again?

"I don't think we went over that..." he brushes a finger to his chin, considering. "Although you rushed out so quickly..."

"Clarence," I speak through gritted teeth, unsure whether its anger or fear fueling the tone, "tell me _again_."

"What do you want to know?"

"Everything!"

He's kneeling on the ground in an instant, his azure eyes shifting between mine. His mouth curves into a smirk. "You'll figure it out... when you understand what you're looking for."

Is this a riddle? Or is he trying to push me over the edge now he knows I can't escape? It must be punishment for fleeing, for attempting to save my life. But what would he have me do?

"But I don't know what I'm looking for!" I scream at him again. "You're not _telling_ me anything!"

"You didn't want to hear any of it before..." Clarence scratches his chin again, weighing his options as if either could work toward his benefit, "but if you really want to know the secret to it all, here it is," he leans closer, holding my focus with his. He wants to make sure I hear him. Make sure I'm _listening_ to what he says. "Your memories are powerful... but your dreams will give you truth _._ "

Another riddle. What am I supposed to do with that? He smirks as if he'd revealed the location to Atlantis but I, a mere land dweller, can't sail a ship. Back on his feet, he casts a view north.

"It's time."

"For?"

"Our departure," he looks to me as he begins to pace, hands casually in his pockets. "I told you I prefer the term 'escort.' The others just don't quite fit. I'm not introducing you to a new religion—not yet at least. Once you get to Harrizel, you can decide for yourself. And I'm not snatching you under a cloak in the middle of the night."

"Just the afternoon?" I tug at my wrist restraints behind my back. Something hard like brick presses deep into my skin so I stop.

"And liar," he goes on, "well, that's not _really_ an occupation—just a way to get what you want. So again, it comes back to _escort_."

"Can I still call you Clarence?"

He stops, offering a slight bow. "You may."

"Then why does it matter what you call yourself?" I ask through gritted teeth, struggling to sit up. "You're taking me regardless."

"This is true..." he nods, peering down, "but I'd rather you feel accompanied rather than _taken_. You're going _home_ , Fallon," he waves his hand slowly, as if wiping something clean from the air, the restraints disappearing from my hands and feet. "To start your new life."

I massage my free wrists, rubbing release into the joints. The thought of fleeing rises but the field is too wide to run off in any direction. He'd catch me. He'd catch me in less than a second. And I'd only be bound again.

"You are correct," it's as if he's reading my mind, his focus off on the distant trees. "Better to just come along with me. It'd be less painful for you."

"And these are my options?"

"Sadly."

I scowl, angered and terrified all at once. "Where are you taking me?"

"To your new home, Harrizel."

"Which is?"

"Jeb will explain things further. I haven't done a very good job and for that, I apologize. You'll learn soon enough and if Jeb doesn't teach you, the others will."

"Others?"

"Yes—the other survivors. You think you're the only one who escaped the war? Harrizel hosts a little over four hundred humans."

Other survivors? Humans? Then this is real? I shut my hanging jaw and replay his words. _Harrizel hosts a little over four hundred humans._ Is that all that's left of us? Or all that he's taken?

"And growing?" I try to gauge an idea.

"Hopefully," he nods, "that's my job. To _find_ you... and escort you to Harrizel," he offers his hand.

Escape is futile. But if I go with him, there's a chance I'd never be able to leave. I could try and make my way back... but to what? I don't even remember this place. Not yet at least. But what other choice do I have?

"Will I ever come back here?" I ask, slipping my hand in his. It's oversized, like a catcher's mitt and he uses it to pull me from the ground.

"To what? This is no longer your home. This is no longer _anyone's_ home," he threads our fingers as the same invisible air restraints lock our wrists together. "Ready?"

The wind sweeps through the distant trees, shaking them in unison as if waving a final goodbye. I nod, squeezing Clarence's hand tight.

And then we're up.

#  Chapter Two: Arrival

Gusts of purple air sweep past, billowing soft swirls and thickening as bursts of light shine through. Each light grows brighter, crackling the purple dust, parting like mini fireworks exploding around us. Clarence watches it too. He sits across from me, or maybe stands, his blue eyes smiling into mine, curious. They're the only constant. That and his face. Even his neck and hair fade into the smoke screen of lavender gliding behind him.

Am I dreaming?

It's my voice, loud and just as I would say it. But the words never left my mouth. It's my thought. _Am_ I dreaming? It would explain all this. Where we are and what's happening. Him. Everything before. Why I can hear myself but not remember speaking...

_No_.

It's Clarence's voice but not from his mouth either. His lips remain upturned in that curious, playful smile like he's waiting for some reaction, some punch line to a joke. But I hear him just the same, just as he heard me, a monologue of our thoughts overhead.

It feels like a dream.

_You've never traveled through space before_ , his eyes flicker between mine, _it's impossible to move at our rate and see an accurate portrayal of things. This is what your mind allows you to see._

Then this is real?

Yes.

And we're moving?

Yes. It feels like we're right across from one another and in a way, we are. But physicality and spirituality are two different things. They must travel in their own way as we are, right now.

So where am I?

Between.

A soft gust of purple breathes roughly behind Clarence, tickling his neck hair and ears with the swirling wind. The same chill runs down my phantom back, a body I no longer possess. It's attached but somehow not. I can feel its reaction though, tingling in my core, a shiver from an unexpected breeze. Maybe the sense comes from within, from what I expect it _should_ feel like or would feel like if I was not here... wherever here may be.

How is this possible?

It is possible because it has always been this way. Your culture portrays travel by ship or craft. This is all they've known, but, it is not truth.

My heart, wherever it is, pounds away in the tin drum of my chest. How can I feel my body when it's not attached? None of this is real. It can't be.

I don't believe any of this.

Clarence's mouth turns up, into that amused smirk whenever I disagree. His blue eyes focus on mine, shifting between them.

It doesn't matter if you believe it if it's fact.

Am I going to die?

No.

Then how does this end?

The way it always does. With a landing.

Then I'll awake, to what it was like before?

_No,_ his smile finally turns down, _it will_ never _be like before..._

Familiar dread fills me, especially as he fades to black, stealing all light with him. The fireworks stop exploding, sucked into the darkness and even the purple smoke dancing around my head drifts away. I'm still here though, alone, in the black. The quiet.

Then, suddenly, it all flies at me.

The fires first, lighting up the trees, then the nearby houses and barns, deathly smoke rising into the night like demonic ghosts set loose on the world. And their faces, especially the children. Walking for days with pain from unimaginable, torturous thirst. Hiding in the caves, scrapping with others over a bag of found dog food. And the winters when there weren't enough clothes. Bodies pressed together in long rows, hoping their heat might suffice this night, unlike so many others before...

The images fly past forever, then just for a second in time. And they're gone. And I'm tumbling in the darkness, tumbling and falling. Falling, falling. But I have no voice to scream, no body to break. Perhaps this is it. Perhaps this is end of me, whoever that is.

Perhaps this is death.

Suddenly, I plummet through an unearthly substance, the separation between my rapid descent and the new tranquility I sense around me. I'm no longer moving but still, standing, my body belonging to me again. It's tensed, as if feeling balance for the first time or remembering what it's like to use muscles after a long absence. Inhaling, I calm the thumping in my chest, reminding—or I suppose, _convincing_ —myself I've survived, when I smell it.

Rain.

"Alright," Clarence's voice muses, "we're here. You can open your eyes."

And then there are colors.

Brightly glowing purples, blues and greens dot the mammoth-sized plant-life hanging over us, reaching with long, spiky-edged, yellow-tipped leaves that unfold like flower petals to the dew-stricken ground below. Golden-coated lavender bulbs bloom from unruly tree roots with mammoth trunks extending like skyscrapers into the grayish-white clouds. Crimson blossoms grow wild among their hugging branches, interweaving a rope of ivy that drapes from tree to tree, like a limitless swing set in the sky. And it all sits in a soft, settling mist, gathering at our knees.

"Where are we?"

"This..." Clarence beams, breathing in the scent of wet plant-life, "is Harrizel, your new home."

"A jungle?"

"Well..." he faces the other direction, his voice lowering, " _that's_ where you'll be staying."

There's no happiness in his words. What could change his demeanor so quickly? We're already standing outside in the damp air—surely shelter can only be a positive?

When I turn, Clarence points through a screen of netted ivy, built up by plump shrubbery and falling yellow-tipped leaves that fan over one another to obstruct the view. "Can you see it?"

I pin back a leaf and then another, the jungle proving overly lush and damp. Water trickles down my hand and into the sleeve of my elbow as I swipe away more fauna and finally, through the broken fragments of jungle still ahead, it comes into view.

The shadow lurching in the distance.

It's a giant's domain of obsidian stone and rounded into towers on each corner of its boxed shape. Four peaks reach to the sky from each tower, like deadly daggers threatening to slice open and spill forth the watery contents from above. An enormous wrought iron gate encloses the darkened fortress, wrapping around it and separating us from the gray, flat land of dirt.

"I've heard some refer to it as the 'Castle,'" Clarence explains, "but it has no name really."

"So what do you call it?"

He sighs, trying to find the correct answer, "Right now... Harrizel."

"You sound disappointed."

He wipes the frown from his mouth. "There they are," he points again, "do you see them? The last survivors of your human race."

I follow his finger and find blue dots strewn behind the gate. They're carrying—or maybe dragging—something, some keeping to a large pole that extends in the center of the open lot, the only beacon in the distance.

"What are they doing?"

"I'm sure Jeb will explain all that."

"And out here?" I turn to the trees.

"Well it's beautiful, isn't it?"

"Is this part of our home too?"

"Not exactly..." Clarence lowers his head, stepping past a patch of golden lavender bulbs, "this is the outskirts. The _wild_. You're not allowed to leave the gate."

"Then why take me here?"

"To show you the beauty that is Harrizel. Sometimes things can seem so..." he stops, searching for the right word, " _cold_. It's not all like that. And I want you to remember this."

What does he mean by cold? And _remember_ this?

"There's an opening in the gate," he gestures ahead, "Yerza and Norpe should be at their post to let you in. I'm sorry to abandon you like this but I must go."

"You're _leaving_ me here?"

"My job is done. I'm your _escort_ , Fallon. I have to go back and find other survivors."

"But..." my mind races with everything that's happened, everything he's told me and everything he still hasn't. "What now? I live in _there_ ," I point to the black daggers, "for the rest of my life? Doing _what_? You can't just—"

"Jeb will explain everything," he cuts me off. "He is, after all, the Guide," Clarence leans down, his hands on his knees. He lowers his voice, speaking in a gentle tone, the way a father would soothe his daughter. "You'll be _fine_. This is a new life, Fallon. A new beginning. Open yourself to the possibilities." He eyes the Castle as if it were something peaceful in the distance. I follow his gaze, peering through the ivy to the fortress ahead. It sits like a brick in my stomach, trepidation suddenly rising.

"When will I see..." I turn to Clarence but he's gone.

I'm alone.

Fear grips me like a hand to the throat. Suffocation takes over. I'm about to fall but the assault at my neck keeps me standing, each limb too frozen to move, too weak to fight back. I need to find movement in my body but I can't. I'm trapped inside myself. And out here, in the wild.

I close my eyes and count to ten, listening to the jungle breathe around me. It comes in droplets first, a soft trickling stream of dew from petal to petal and leaf to leaf. Some are quick, rushed descents while others take their time, slowly dripping drop by drop, their songs overlapping to create a chorus of watery chimes. And then the windswept leaves start rustling into themselves. Humming erupts and I open my eyes again, the golden lavender bulbs releasing a soft glow, some cricket or animal responding in its own mewling screech.

My heart slows to its normal rate, the grip of fear at my neck dissipating, freeing my limbs to move again. I trek forward, swiping wet leaves from my way and ducking under sodden branches. A few more overgrown bushes of the yellow-tipped tongues and I'm there.

The edge of the jungle.

All lush plant life stops at my feet and a new ecosystem exists. The desert to this ocean. The dry, cracked skeleton of a dead earth left to its eroding bones—a wasteland of dust and ash. Cinder rises over the rocky ground leading up to and beyond the iron-gate, which stands as tall as the trees behind me.

Something flashes ahead.

It's a movement, darting over the gate—a giant bug zipping from rod to rod. Another appears, springing down the railings, zigzagging until it reaches the ground. Paused in its curled state, it's hunched over and small... until it starts to rise, standing erect on two mountainous, greenish-brown legs.

A lizard.

But he stands like a man.

A man with amphibian skin and covered in dark green armor that shines iridescent like cockroach wings. The rear of his head is rounded but the front is longer and hangs lower with a snout, two slits for nostrils and yellow eyes like the sun. He picks up a long brown rod with his scaled hand, his black talons clenching it close to his shelled torso. With his other hand, he strokes a cluster of cascading whiskers that fall at the base of his snout and back toward the soft skin of his throat.

The second lizard-man descends to the ground with a hard thud next to the first. A grey cloud floats in the air, shielding them from sight as a loud hiss erupts. Then it's silent until the dust settles, the two facing each other, their glowing eyes darting about. The first continues to play with his whiskers while the other zips around, practicing assault with the rod, aiming at imaginary opponents. A few loud clicking bursts are exchanged before the second returns to its legs, shaking the rod high in the air. The first leaps on the second and the two roll in the dirt, causing a second dust cloud to whirl about them.

I step back and my heel hits a pile of leaves which crunch.

The creatures still, their yellow eyes peering in my direction, darting about the greenery before the first one drops to all fours, racing toward me.

I freeze, keeping my arms pulled to the side, opening the leaves like separating a curtain. I don't move. I don't _breathe_. My heart is a bomb about to explode, just as the first one slowly approaches. He lifts two growling slits in the air, sniffing mere yards to the right. His partner jumps to the gate, shaking his rod over his head again, signaling the other's return. The first one gives up, glowering at the shrubbery before returning with a hissing snarl to the gate again.

Once he reaches it, I spin to the jungle and take off. Fast as I can, fast as my legs will take me.

Keep moving, keep moving...

The jungle's laden with obstacles—giant roots sit like boulders in the dirt, bubbling over uneven ground and swinging branches reach across one another, slicing the air like ready nooses. Vines try to trap me in seemingly endless walled webs and I'm barely able to navigate the tiny gaps. But as soon as I tear free from a nasty tangle and out into a clearing, my foot gets caught on a hidden root and I fall, face first, into the ground.

I hit it with a violent smack but something tiny and sharp slices my left cheek. I bring my fingers to the bone. Red.

A hissing blue flower with orange-coated petals sneaks back into its bush of siblings. The group of thirty all turn, pointing a sharp yellow stinger at me, vibrating before retracting. I spring to my feet, wiping the wet cheekbone just in time to dodge the yellow stingers shooting darts into the ground that sizzle and evaporate into nothing.

Racing, I push past a curtain of hanging yellow leaves and come to a shield of vertical vines, hanging from the canopy and dotted with crimson blossoms that dip to the ground. Clusters of trees intermingled in a sea of the spitting blue and orange flowers block the path on either side. A breeze floats through the vines and they all sway to the left.

I sweep a few to the right but the instant I touch them, the crimson blossoms spit out red goo that burns my fingers like acid. Only a few drops land on my fingers but the pain is so intense, I snap them to my chest, nursing one throbbing knuckle in my mouth. There's a clearing just beyond the curtain of vines but it's about fifteen feet away. I pass another aching knuckle to my mouth and clench my fists, locating the largest gaps in the sea of hanging fire.

I'll have to run.

But what if I can't make it? What if they snap awake and try to trap me and I burn alive? There's no other way. The blue and orange dusted flowers have their yellow stingers aimed in my direction, arrows ready to fire.

I wish I could remember someone. _Anyone_. A person I loved, one who could tell me it'd be alright, no matter what happens. Someone to offer comfort. But there's no one. No one to remember. Just the fire and sooty faces, the cold walks and fights. Just survival.

Like this.

I take a breath and focus on the clearing ahead. I can make it. I just have to be fast. I count myself down.

Three...

I'll just have to move really quickly.

Two...

I'll grit my teeth. It'll only be a few seconds.

One...

I take off and immediately, the pain is unbearable. I'm zapped everywhere, every inch of exposed skin bubbling with acid, eating away to the fat and muscle. Throwing my arms in front of my face to shield it, I move as fast as possible, sweeping through the hanging fire but all I can feel is the pain—this erosion of my body. My head hangs low, my scalp screaming with scorched flesh but I keep going, biting my lip which nearly bleeds from the assault. I'm almost through, almost to the end but there may not be much of me left. Am I burning alive? It feels like it. Bits of me are being charred away, melting into this poisonous place to be left behind as evidence. Evidence I didn't survive.

But I'm not quitting.

My legs carry me further, wobbling as patches of skin disappear. I'm just about through when I snatch the last few vines to the side and fall into a giant puddle of a sticky blue substance on the other side. The liquid starts to envelop me but I keep my mouth and nose perched high, sucking in air for reserves. I try to wriggle free but can't move. My heart thumps rapidly, racing.

I'm drowning.

The gooey liquid is going to suck me down, and it's here, I know, that I'm going to die. Just as I start seeping under, grabbing the last bit of breath, the burning starts to fade.

I stop moving.

The eroded skin on my hands and arms start to cool, the wounds suddenly repairing themselves. My body relayers the missing muscle, fat and skin until they are fully restored. Able to snatch my hand easier than expected, I turn it over. Healed. No gaping charred holes. No sizzling to the bone. Taking a deep breath, I submerge myself completely, rolling around in the liquid blue as the cooling sensation washes over the skin on my face and scalp, reconstructing it. I come back up for air and find it easier to move. In fact, the substance is no longer sticky, but closer to the texture of water, silky and fluid.

Dragging myself from the puddle, I rest in a patch of dirt and grass at the foot of a mammoth tree, one—like most others—more suitable for a giant than a human. With my left cheek resting on the damp grass, my fingers sink high into the cool dirt above my head. I could stay like this forever. Never moving. Never leaving to discover other horrors that await me in this nightmare. But I've only just started. I haven't put enough distance between myself and... whatever those things were.

I have to keep going.

With every ounce of strength I can muster, I peel myself from the ground. My legs wobble, unsure of the weight they carry, but I force them on, faster and faster.

_Just keep going_. _Keep moving_.

Swiping hanging ivy and clamoring over low branches that cut across my knees, I fall to the dirt a few times, tripping over hidden roots, but I get back up, pushing forward, _always_ pushing forward.

_Just a bit further_. _You're almost there_.

Except it's not me this time. It's someone else, or _something_ else inside my head. Even if my legs can't carry me much farther, this feeling, this _intuition_ leads me like a compass. There's something ahead. Something important I have to find.

I trudge forward, sweat pouring down my body, grazing over my limbs like drizzling rain. I swipe my brow with my forearm and my upper lip with my finger. I'm soaked. My hands are black with dirt and my hair sits matted to my neck and back. Heavy pounding threatens to explode my chest as my legs barely stumble on, about to give out.

But then I round the cluster of trees and come across something odd.

Just ahead, in the middle of a natural clearing, a collection of broken walls remain, cathedral-sized and overgrown in a wild nest of ivy. The stone fragments sit close to one another, a few disappearing into the treetop canopy above, but most are broken at the lower branches. Ivy drapes between them and covers each like fabric. At their base, yellow cobblestones swim in overgrown grass like sinking ships, dotting the clearing with a losing battle on the sea.

I fall to my knees.

I _know_ this place.

Nearly incapable of moving, I manage to crawl, dragging myself over pools of ivy. The ground pads my swollen palms and knees but they still throb, screaming for rest. I can't stop now—I need to know what this place is... what it _was_.

I plant my elbows into the ground like stakes, lugging myself closer to the first broken remain. It stands over ten feet tall with chips of stone blown away, moss, ivy and dirt working to clog the holes and mend the jagged edges. There's another wall some ways back and another up ahead, lying adjacent to the ruin on my left. It must have been a room. I scan my brain, searching this image, searching for what it _might have_ looked like but there's nothing.

This needs a more thorough investigation than crawling. If only I didn't ache so badly, if only I'd just discovered this beyond the first few trees. I ignore the throbbing in my limbs, the pounding in my chest about to break me open, and I stagger to my feet, clutching the wall for balance.

Yes, I'm in a room—a compartment of some sort. When my legs secure themselves, I push forward, past the ruins in front of me and find another grouping ahead, also coated in sheaths of ivy with bare blocks of stone wall remaining.

What _is_ this place?

I wander from ruin to ruin and stop at each wall, gazing over the remaining stone and their connection to the others. They were white at some point but age and dirt have eroded them to this yellowish tint. They must have been here for years. _Centuries,_ possibly. But how do I know? It's like a feeling, like a hidden message was stowed away in me all this time—a knowledge I didn't know I possessed.

I continue on, lost in this ruin of a city that at one time must have been quite spectacular to behold. More rooms, more compartments await me until I emerge from them all, finding myself across from a new clearing and in the middle of it, a single tree with flowing tresses of pink, peach and orange blossoms.

It stands alone, overlooking the city with its ancient, ethereal eye. A breeze whisks through, dancing in the blossoms and playing their pink fingers like a pianist on his keys. Drawn by its overwhelming magnetism, I start for it when I'm distracted by a _crunch, crunch_ behind me.

I drop to the ground, my back to the closest stone. Another _crunch, crunch_ —the stomping of leaves. It's coming from my left... or is it my right? Have they found me? Those creatures from the Castle? Or is this a new predator?

My chest thumps emphatically as I listen for the source of the sound. The crunching grows louder on my left but a soft pitter-patter of steps echoes on my right. A pack of something? If I don't move now, they'll find me. Kill me. _Eat_ me, most likely. Maybe that's better, though. Ending my fate now instead of prolonging all this. Maybe the best thing for me is to do is run out and fight it and go down trying. But somehow, I can't. Fear has swelled inside me, blocking the practical from survival. I can't give myself over willingly, even if I wanted to. It's human nature to fight and although I can't remember, it's in my nature too.

Another rustle of leaves. What then? Flight? Fight? Neither sound like an ideal activity. I have to do something. But what?

Crunch, crunch!!

This is it.

My demise.

I wish I could remember someone I once loved, someone I'd think about at the very end. Any person who'd make this time here all worth it. I try to search for any glimmer of light but the rustling is upon me. I've lost. Perching myself to spring from the wall—one final act of survival—I see him.

His deep mahogany eyes burn through me, nonplussed...

...and then everything goes dark again.

#  Chapter Three: Castle

A table.

Just out of the sun's reach, it sits on a square porch under a tin roof. Three glasses drenched in condensation sit atop the table's plastic yellow cover, a black ashtray in the center. A pair of slender fingers flick a cigarette, releasing the ashes before bringing it to her mouth. She inhales and the tip lights up orange. Her black hair is swooped up in a red bandana and large squared frames block her eyes.

_The scene fades and is instantly replaced by another—an older woman staring straight at me with long, white, billowy hair breezing around her. With silvery glass eyes, she pierces me, looking_ through _me, searching. She calls my name but her mouth never moves, never opens._

Fallon!

She's shouting for me. Shouting for me to hear her, to see her. Her eyes flare wider, ghastly, overpowering everything else.

FALLON!

I'm awake.

Everything's bright. _Open_. I'm on a flat, hard surface but it's not the floor. A table? I roll my head to the left and find four endless rows of metal, rectangular surfaces built five feet off the ground. They disappear into blurs on the opposite side of the space, lost in the streaming sunlight. I look to the right. Same. Except there's half of a wall that divides my row from the others. I kick my head back. A solid pane of glass stands behind me, reaching from floor to ceiling and follows the tables in both directions. It's like a strange hospital with too many beds and no sign of doctors.

How did I get here?

The last thing I remember...

...are his brown eyes. Burning. _Alive_. He'd stilled, completely flabbergasted to see me too. His jaw dropped to speak, but then it went dark. As if I fell asleep. As if someone turned the lights off and now, however many hours later, they're back on. And here I am, alone again with no clue how I got here.

A pounding in my temple erupts and I bring my hand to my head, massaging the curls above my right ear. This surprises me. Bending my knee, I get further proof and sit up—no restraints are tying me down. I kick my legs off the side of the table and notice my Converse have been replaced with powder blue slippers. They're made of some scratchy, near-cotton material. I resist the urge to touch them but look down and find I'm dressed in scrub-like pants and a mid-sleeve top, both fitted and made of the same itchy, sky blue fabric.

Jumping down, I land on my toes without making a sound and make my way toward the wall-length window. The afternoon sun greets me, casting light on the cracked dirt below, offering more warmth than yesterday. The jungle glistens on the horizon across, but sits barred by the immense wrought-iron gate.

My stomach knots.

There needs to be a door, an opening— _something_. I need to get out to the jungle again and find the ruins. I _need_ to get back out there and figure out why it's so familiar. But the gate's larger than I originally thought. It skyrockets, nearly reaching the height of this glass wall with rods peaking into sharp triangular points, dotting around this structure in a giant semi-circle. The only way past the gate is through it, and though I'm thin, I'm not sure I'll be able to fit through the railings.

There's movement below. A mass of blue blurs slowly disperse around the Castle, carrying or dragging similar objects as before. I press my forehead and fingertips to the glass to get a better view.

"Lovely afternoon, isn't it?"

I spin, finding a tall man with long, shiny black hair. His cascading locks are pulled into a half pony tail, falling just past his shoulders and onto a custard robe that reaches the floor.

"My name is Jeb. I'm the Guide," he walks towards me, his hands behind his back, "and you must be..."

I retreat a step, back toward the pane of glass, intuition constricting my voice. There's plenty of room to run if need be, but if he's anything like Clarence, I'll get nowhere quick.

Jeb pauses with a frown. "Haven't you remembered yet?"

If I was on the ground, I could make for the gate. I could hide among the other blue blurs and dash toward the jungle when no one was looking. But how to get down there? Right now it's just us. And that fact raises a sickly feeling in my gut.

"Clarence tells me your name is Fallon."

"Where am I?"

"In the medical unit on the top floor of this base. You were brought in yesterday and left to recover. Please," he advances a cautious step, "how are you feeling?"

There's a pounding in my head, but whether that's from blacking out in the jungle or something that happened since then, I have no idea. I have no idea about anything anymore. And I'm not keen on him knowing this.

He frowns. "Not well?"

I bring my fingers to the back of my head, cautious about any information divulged. "Dizzy."

"That would be the Pill."

"Pill?"

He produces a small vial of glistening lavender liquid, pinching it between his finger and thumb. "Medicine. To keep our humans happy and healthy. After what happened to your planet, we must take every precaution available. I do apologize about the Pill... it does tend to have a bit of an after effect. Shouldn't last long."

"So you're..." I gulp as images from yesterday flash by. "What _are_ you?"

"A Dofinike—a separate species, though not entirely dissimilar from your own. But, I suppose your term for us would be... alien."

So it's true, then. Everything that happened. That's _happening_. But if he's the alien, what were those creatures yesterday? How many different extraterrestrials are here?

"I saw two... _things_ at the gate," I round the closest table, keeping it between us. "What were they?"

"You must be talking about Yerza and Norpe. Yes, they shouldn't have been messing around like that. I can understand why you ran off," he walks to a half wall and presses a tiny button no larger than a fingernail. The outline of a square appears and suddenly, a glass box emerges to fill it. He dispenses the vial onto a shelf in the box, presses the button again and the box disappears back into the wall. He turns to me. "There weren't supposed to be any more drops yesterday—Clarence brought you in by complete surprise. Usually, they take their human form when our guests arrive. They, shall we say, 'didn't get the memo.'"

"You can change back and forth?"

"Pardon?"

"From human to Dofinike?"

"Human _form_. Yes, we find it helps ease the transition, especially in our younger guests. Seeing familiar faces—so to speak—expedites the trust and that's why you ran. You didn't know it was safe."

"They were carrying weapons."

"Hardly," he laughs, walking past me to peer out the window again. "What Yerza and Norpe carry are staffs. Sure they can wound and probably in the hands of someone with a _bit_ more intelligence, they might cause significant damage. But at best, they're for show."

"To show what?"

"Well," he sighs, "as you can see, Harrizel can be a dangerous environment if not well navigated. What's the point of saving your race if you escape out there only to be killed by sheer curiosity? The staffs are intended to keep you rounded up, keep you where it's safe. Now come with me," he hooks his hands behind his back, walking away from the solid pane of glass. "There's much to go over."

"You're taking me downstairs?"

"Eventually," he turns with an odd expression. "There are a few things I need to show you so you can adjust to this new environment quickly."

What kind of things do I need to know before we're on the ground? Will I even survive that long? What if those blue blurs aren't even people? What if they're just robots or other Dofinikes posing as similarly dressed humans so we'd go willingly with Jeb? I just need to make it to the ground. Then I'll have a chance. I'll find the door to the gate—or some other break in it—and I'll flee again.

_Just make it to the ground. Make it there and you'll be fine_.

"I can't wait all day, Fallon."

There's no choice but to follow.

Just make it to the ground.

Reluctantly, and fighting every intuition boiling through me, I join Jeb's side.

He leads me out of the endlessness and into a darkened corridor on the other side, the two spaces separated by a single pane of glass. Still able to see into the infinite room of metal tables on my right, this new hall sleeps in the shadows cast by the dark, plum-black stone to my left, curving up in an arch above me. The only light draws from tiny golden spheres which float around what appear to be metal branches glued to the wall.

I move closer and see it's not metal at all, but a silvery tree slithering up the dark stone like a snake. It branches into several thin wires, looping about but never expanding more than a foot from the wall. The small spheres hover here, offering about three feet of whitish-yellow light that glows around me.

"Gizella trees," Jeb indicates, "excellent natural light source, though not found around here. Terrible inconvenience to bring them in."

I lightly brush my fingertips against one of the closest branches. It's smooth except for its long, lined wrinkles and feels very similar to carved metal, except for its slight breathing. The wiry, metallic branch seems to expand slightly and then release again at my touch.

"These?" I extend my middle finger to one of the light spheres. As I'm about to touch it, it zaps me with a sharp electric current. Immediately nursing it in my mouth, Jeb chuckles behind me.

"Yes, you don't want to touch those. They're babeebs—they don't like to be disturbed."

"They're alive?"

"Of course they are!" he places himself at my side. "They're tiny organisms that live off the Gizella trees unless another life force is closer."

"What do you mean?"

"Well," he extends his hand, signaling down the rest of the corridor. I follow it and find the entire plum-black wall lined with these silvery trees, dotted every four to five feet down from one another. "We use them to light our way around this base. But if there isn't a Gizella tree where you need to go—say, to your bunker—you simply scoop a few up and over, like this," Jeb gracefully dips his hand inches under the babeebs and lifts them atop his head, where they hover a few inches above. "Only one or two is sufficient. You don't want to leave the rest of us in the dark."

"And they're on the base floor as well? Are they outside?"

"No—we use them solely to light the interior. Just like your kind, we rely on the sun for outdoor exposure," he walks on, hands cupped behind his back. "There are two in your room, so if you bring a few babeebs when you go, remember to take them with you when you leave. We once found a human coveting around forty or so! Can you believe it?"

"Why?"

"Who knows? But to ensure your safety and the safety of others, there _are_ routine sweeps of your room, so don't bring in anything you wouldn't want us to find," he glances back with an endearing smile. This strikes me as odd, but I keep silent. "And these, here," Jeb gestures to the left, "are the evibolas."

He points to an arched door way of deep, sparkling blue. We stop, my eyes adjusting as I take in its moving splendor. It's like looking into the night sky, at the moving stars across varying hues of the universe. Beautiful.

A tall man, dressed similarly to Jeb, walks through the veil, the deep blue evaporating like mist behind him. He has short yellow hair and seems genuinely surprised to see me. He glances at Jeb and, finding immediate comfort, walks off.

"These are the quickest way of transport—for Dofinikes, that is," Jeb is quick to clarify. " _Your_ primary mode is the stairs, located at each corner of the base. But for today," he takes a step toward the archway which has regenerated the navy fogged shield, "they'll serve our purpose."

I'm interested in asking more about the evibolas, where else they can lead, but with the passing of the yellow haired man, another question emerges instead, one I want answered more.

"How many Dofinikes are there?"

"Hmm?" he barely glances at me. "What's that? How many Dofinikes?"

"Clarence mentioned there were about four hundred humans," I keep my best poker face in play. "I'd imagine there'd need to be quite a few Dofinikes to take care of us and..." I gulp, "maintain order."

"Well let's see..." his eyes roll up, quickly counting, "there must be about the same, I should imagine. We mainly stay up here, in the labs and hospitals. We don't have much interaction with the humans unless they are ill or hurt or something is wrong."

"Why?"

"Well..." Jeb exhales, tossing his hands behind his back again, "we feel this is a gentle process for you. Your race is rebuilding itself. I'm sure it needs as little meddling as possible."

"You're not meddling if you're helping."

"Yes, I do agree with that, but we want to encourage your..." he clears his throat again, " _relationships_. How are you going to develop your race if we're constantly being mistaken for humans? It's less messy this way. And we've already gone over why it's better to assume our human forms. Yes?"

_Relationships_. That's a euphemism if I've ever heard one. Suddenly, the realization that they'll want me to repopulate punches through me like a cannon ball. All the air's been stripped from my lungs and I have to work to keep my expression dulled.

Just make it to the ground. Make it to the ground and you won't have to worry about any of this.

"So, we don't see you in your true forms... _ever_?"

"Well not, _ever_. As you know, no one is perfect. Trouble does arise from time to time and when it does, we have to restore order."

"How?"

"Tetlak is head of the guards. He's absolutely stubborn and refuses to submit to human form so when he appears, the situation tends to dissolve itself. Between you and me," Jeb throws me an honest look, "I'd keep from getting on his bad side. _Terrible_ mood."

What does _that_ mean?

"Beyond today and—hoping you never get hurt or ill—you won't be up here," Jeb spins, "I'll show you to the human areas where you'll spend the majority of your time."

He walks right through the sparkling blue arch, which sits like a thick mist, separating us. I'm quick to follow, passing the navy haze of glistening stars and into a darkened area no more than a few feet in width.

Jeb is ahead but turns to me, indicating I join his right side.

Obliging, I stand next to him, the floor humming beneath us. We're in complete darkness and just when I think nothing's going to happen—it does. Nothing happens. Until Jeb walks back out of the darkness, hands calmly clasped behind his back as he strolls out the same way we entered.

I follow him into an enormously low-lit room—the size of a school gymnasium—darkened like the upstairs corridor with the same plum-black stone walls. The corners of the room host gallant stairwells of pure obsidian, Gizella trees crawling up the steps and along the walls, attempting to climb their way free as babeebs linger on their silver branches, illuminating the hovels with their golden glows.

A massive trunk sits centered in the space, its tangled roots hovering feet above the floor. It glows iridescent lavender with reflecting hints of turquoise and green, boasting at least a yard in circumference. Just above the trunk, a swarming nest of Gizella roots bloom from the center of the black ceiling. The silvery snakes sneak across the marble, reaching all ends with a hive of babeebs suspended under the main nest, just over the trunk—a spotlight on a stage.

"This is the Auditorium," Jeb keeps his hands clasped, leading me forward, "this is where you'll have your weekly meetings with Beshib before Leisure Time begins."

"Who's Beshib?"

Jeb turns, an excited grin on his face—he's been waiting to tell me.

"He's the one who first pioneered your race's rescue—without him, you wouldn't even be here! You'd probably still be attempting life in that filthy planet you left behind," Jeb shakes his head with disgust as I suppress an urge to snap. "At the end of every week he addresses the humans with a reminder of what you left behind and the rebirth the Dofinikes are offering. It doesn't last long—ten, fifteen minutes, really. Then, Leisure Time begins and that's when you can relax, openly socializing."

"We can't socialize during the day?"

Jeb averts his eyes. "The day is for Rebuilding. We're trying to give humans a way to revive their species."

"Is that what they're doing out there? Building? I saw them carrying—"

"Yes," he interrupts, walking again, "we're expanding upstairs. Clarence continues finding more survivors. It's wonderful, really, but we lack the space to house them. Then, of course, there is the repopulating here on Harrizel to comply with. The building is necessary."

"So manual labor?"

"Fallon," he sighs, "try not to think of it as labor. But as _Rebuilding_. Helping your species have homes when they get here. You have a home. That couldn't exist without the work of your brothers and sisters."

Yeah, a home I'm not even going to keep once you take me outside.

Jeb's fast pace has managed to put some distance between us. A quick trot and I've caught back up with him. "So _no_ talking during the day? No socializing?"

"A bit of socializing quickly turns into lack of work. Without strict attention and focus, nothing would get done. It's for your benefit, really."

"And Beshib? He's the one making all the rules?"

Jeb sighs again, exhaustion in his voice. He's had to explain this before. "I know this sounds like we're against you but it's really for your good. Here we clothe you and feed you, provide you with shelter and if I may be so bold, with _family_. We only ask for your compliance. The world you came from is not as kind."

He starts walking but I'm at his side again. "So what happened?"

"Excuse me?"

"What happened? With the war?" I stop and he stops with me. "Clarence didn't tell me anything."

"Surely you remember?" When I don't respond, Jeb exhales as a solemn frown crosses his face. Lowering his head, he speaks in a soft voice, his eyes on the black marble below us. "Terrible. What humans did to one another. Killing mercilessly. Destroying their planet... destroying each other. Your world, at one point, was overpopulated and then... it was all gone. Or just about.

"We, Dofinikes, are travelers by nature and came across your planet. We saw what you were doing to each other; saw how you were killing one another. We saved whom we could. But it wasn't enough. You nearly destroyed yourselves. We keep going back, keep finding people who hid out, who are _still_ hiding. We won't stop."

Jeb turns and continues heading for the center of the room. I follow in silence and replay his words. 'Destroying their _planet_.' An image of the house and trees resurfaces. What part of the world is he talking about?

"This is the stage," he lifts his arms as we come to the massive floating trunk. It mirrors the ceiling Gizella roots in width, the trunk acting as the central focus in the room. "Beshib will address you here for Lecture. It's best to arrive early for 'good seats,'" Jeb chuckles before heading back to the evibola.

As we move past, I stop, noticing something that escaped my attention before. The four main walls—though all deeply dark—aren't the same color. Without asking Jeb for a second to investigate, I claim it regardless, approaching the closest wall for examination.

There's an opening in the center—an entrance to something beyond. Both sides of the wall consist of the same plum-black stone but are checkered with a deep, hunter green, the pattern reaching from stairwell to stairwell. At the top of the narrow entrance, a plaque of the same deep green with a scripted black _W_ , sits on the wired arch connecting both sides of the wall.

"I see you've noticed the Maze," Jeb says behind me.

"Maze?"

He nods, taking his place at my side and gazing up to the darkened entrance under the black _W._

"Or so _your_ kind would refer to it. It is, in fact, merely an escape for your Leisure Time, should you... need it. I'm afraid, however, it's being utilized to serve _other_ purposes..."

"Such as?"

I glance around the gigantic room, finding the other three walls share the same narrow entrance, all up to the ceiling where a plaque of a different letter—and corresponding wall hue—sit. Across from this wall lies the maroon _E_ , to the left and from where we just entered, the golden _N_ and to the right, the eggplant _S_.

"I don't believe it beneficial to speak of such matters. My advice to you," he turns, offering a short nod, "is to steer clear. Surround yourself with friends out here," he gestures to the stark emptiness surrounding us, "and you'll do just fine."

Although I don't plan on staying here much longer, there are still so many things I want to know, so many questions I need to have answered. But they won't matter as soon as he gets me outside. Just get me out there and I'll take care of the rest.

"Come along," he heads back to where we entered, "more to see."

Reluctantly, I follow, grabbing one last view of the darkened scene before keeping to Jeb's heels as we enter the same evibola. In three seconds we emerge, still several floors up. We're in an open, inside tower of the Auditorium, Gizella trees and babeebs lighting the Castle's interior with a low, golden glow. Crimson archways line every floor of the plum-black walls and a hip level barricade with long black rods runs like a fence along the inside perimeter.

Resting my hand on the rail, I gaze over.

Below lies is a giant plum and grey chessboard, broken by black, emaciated trees that reach up with bony, finger-like branches. Their charred tips extend just beneath our floor, curled at the top in a looped, twisting shape.

"These are the human's quarters," Jeb walks along, his hands tucked behind his back.

"All of this?"

"All of it," he confirms, stopping quickly and glancing over his shoulder so I understand, "except of course, the top few floors. They belong to us."

"So wait..." I pause along with him, "where's the Auditorium?"

"Just below the Courtyard," he indicates over the railing. "We're fifteen floors up so don't forget to account for the exertion when you decide how to spend your Leisurely activities."

I was already on the ground!

I want to kick myself but really, how would I have known? It was windowless and dark—we could've been _anywhere_. And so far, Jeb has been true to wanting to 'show me around.' If this manual labor Rebuilding nonsense is for real, he'll have to take me outside at some point. And then I'll be free from all this—free to make my way back through the jungle and to those ruins that felt familiar. I have to know why and I won't be able to do that from in here. I just have to hold out until Jeb takes me outside.

"Let's look at your bathing facilities," he heads for the closest stairwell.

Hiding just behind it is a wide, bulbous breadth of wall with two arched entries on either side. Both tall and narrow like the Maze's gaps downstairs, Jeb leads us through the closest one, and into near darkness.

"These are the Bathing Bubbles, where you'll come to clean yourself."

While the entrance was deceivingly narrow, the room beyond is not. Decked out in the same plum-black stone, it sleeps in shadows, few babeebs hanging to the even fewer Gizella trees. The space itself is a giant bulb, filled with rows and rows of similarly-shaped objects. They're glass balls, sitting like giant ornaments that could fit three or four people.

Jeb leads us down the outside wall and between a row of the huge glass spheres on our left and a row of smaller, more intimate ones on our right. These smaller glass balls run along the entire outside wall.

"In order to accommodate the growing population, please limit your cleaning sessions between five and ten minutes."

"And when we..."

"Same with depleting your bowels and such," he indicates to the set of smaller spheres on our right.

"And our clothes?" I ask, tugging on my sleeve.

"Yes. The Bathing Bubble will take care of that too. You simply place your items here," he indicates inside the bubble, to a tray hanging from the glass wall. "It will repair and clean as you do. Now," and he faces me again, "you may use the Bubbles in the morning before Rebuilding, during your common hours and at Leisure Time," he strengthens his tone, "though we _highly_ suggest this time be spent with your own kind. It's _imperative_ for you to rebuild your civilization. There is only so much we can do."

Just get me to the ground.

"This way, more to show you," Jeb leads us back outside and down the corridor. "Food will be dispensed three times daily in your room—before Rebuilding and during both common hours before Leisure Time. You are to leave Rebuilding at the dismissal when you hear it, eat in your room and report back at the second dismissal."

"Can we socialize _then_?"

Jeb hesitates briefly, sensing my annoyance, but continues. "Each human is assigned their own space for sleep and privacy," he slows, approaching a crimson door on the left. "Yours is here."

The entire arch is broken into tiny blocks of symbols, all unique to each other.

"Each door is opened by a different combination. Yours are here, here, here, here, here and here," he selects six different symbols, pushing the cubes back until they lock into place. When they do, he nudges the arch open and we enter a tiny burrow of solid black stone.

I gulp.

It's compact—the size of a large closet with a worn twin bed in the back right hand corner, covered in layers of thin, navy rags. An empty chair sits under a small window that hangs on the wall across from us, and a tiny square mirror sits just below it. A few babeebs hover beneath the Gizella roots which creep across the black ceiling like sadistic metal fingers.

"If you forget the combination, the symbols are right here," he indicates to the back of the door where only the same blocks are illustrated in their corresponding place. Jeb steps to the other side of the area, where a white box outline sits in the wall. "Your food will be deposited here."

"How will I know when the common hours are?"

"We will notify you. You'll also be able to navigate your way along with the others."

He steps to the side, allowing me to view the food dispenser outline for myself. I nod, scanning it before backing away and surveying the room again.

"Leisure Time is tonight, so until then, we'll get you started working," he heads for the door.

"And it's mandatory?" I eagerly follow, "Leisure Time?"

"Oh yes!" he spins, flabbergasted I'd even ask. " _Everything_ is mandatory but _especially_ that. How do you expect your race to thrive if you don't give it a chance?" he leans in as if offering a vital piece of information. "And there _are_ ways of tracking when you do and do not attend."

He's looking for some kind of response and I have just the one. Unfortunately, a swift punch to the face isn't going to get me on the ground any quicker. "You were going to get me started on work?"

"Yes—there's no point wasting any more time up here when you're not contributing one way or another. Let's head down to your work stations."

Finally. Just a little longer and I'm out of here.

He leads us out of my bunker and back to the evibola. We're on the ground in seconds, his arms opened to the checkerboard base of the Castle.

"This is the Courtyard. You are also free to use this area for your other socializing—for Leisure Time only, of course."

Up close, the trees are much larger and coated with tiny black hairs that cover them like fur. Their skinny arm-like branches shoot up all around us but never touch one another, or the other trees which lay sprawled out across the Courtyard.

"Now for your work," he leads me to the only entrance in the entire Courtyard—an archway on the north wall where a main portcullis opens to the outside.

Finally!

When we emerge, the sun has disappeared and the scent of rain immediately hits me, the grey-white sky sitting heavily like it did before, threatening an eternal monsoon but still, somehow, not a drop falls. The air is soaked with moisture but the ground remains cracked dry. Dead.

I eye the iron-gate across, searching for an opening. There's got to be a way past it. A way _through_ it. Doing an intense study of its structure and matching the space with my own lean frame, I contemplate squeezing between the rods. I could fit. I might have to suck in a little but it's doable. I'm so lost in this idea that I barely notice the cavernous trench stretching in a semi circle in front of it.

The trough wraps around the Castle with both ends disappearing on either side as people climb in and out with buckets. They empty some blue material into various piles while others handle silvery domed objects that pour steam over the mounds.

Jeb gestures to the trench.

"Gibb grows naturally under the soil. We cultivate it each day to continue development of the upper floors. You're an Arrival so you'll be on digging duty at first. The longer you're here, though, you'll be able to choose your task. You can dig or iron," he gestures toward the small cluster of people holding the silvery domed objects, and then to other groups carrying long rectangular sheets to the far right side of the Castle, "or you can transport. But at first, we'll keep you on digging seeing as it takes time to master the Gollop," he indicates again with a point to the round, 'ironing' devices.

I squint, trying to get a better view of those rods. They look like iron. Strong, durable iron that could hold me like a fly in a spider's web if I can't quite fit. I'm not terribly large-chested, but they'll definitely cause an issue, _especially_ if I need to do this quick. And with everyone out here, it'll be difficult. But at least I'm out here. If anything, I'll wait for their dismissal and do it then.

They'll go back inside and I'll flee.

Suddenly, a loud commotion stirs on the left bank of the trench, stealing Jeb's attention. Someone screams and all movement stops. Freezes. And then starts up again with two boys going at it, throwing furious punches between the trough's edge and the silver domed objects. People burst forth from everywhere, spilling out of the trenches and racing from the far side of the castle to see the showdown.

This is my chance, especially since Jeb charges the fight in a dead run, abandoning me completely. He doesn't stop in his pursuit—curious to see if I've tagged along—but jets away, his yellow coat flapping behind him.

I eye the gate.

No one sees it. No one sees me. They're all focused on the bloody riot just up to the left bank where a sudden mob of bodies has grown. This is my chance. Everyone is distracted. I'm still a ways away but I can make it if I run. With my heart thundering in my chest and my blood racing in my veins, I ready myself.

And I take off.

#  Chapter Four: Allies

I don't get far.

I'm stopped immediately by a boy with a perplexed frown, like he's trying to decide if I'm really doing what he thinks. He steps out in front of me, his tall, stocky build blocking my way, especially as he hooks his hands to his hips.

"Don't even think about it," he shakes his head, his tousled red mane shaking.

"What?" I glance to the left to find Jeb reach the fight. I'm losing time. Whatever this guy's deal is, he's ruining my chance and it might be the only one I get. It's now or never and I can't do the latter. I have to keep going. I side step but he's right in front of me, shaking his head again.

"Whatever crazy-ass idea's running through your head," he crosses his arms over his broad chest, " _don't_. You'll be dead before you even try."

Looking back to the fight, Jeb is pointing back to the Castle, his yelling carrying on the wind toward us. But I'm on the ground. I've made it this far. I can't give up now. I have to at least _try_.

"I'm serious," his golden eyes narrow, "there's no point. You _can't_."

"Why not?"

"You just got here. It's too soon to die."

I'm frozen, caught off by his ability to speak so nonchalantly about my death. I want to ask him what he means but a thousand thoughts are racing through my head. And I'm still not ready to abort the fleeing plan. It's all I've got. I can't acclimate to this world. I _won't_. All I know, all that's familiar is out _there_ , in the ruins. I need to get to them but my legs move won't move. They're useless blocks beneath me, pinning me to the ground.

"Fallon..." Jeb approaches with a curious frown, "how'd you make it all the way over here?"

"I was telling her about the digging," the boy motions to the trench, "we're just about to get some Senz so she can start."

Jeb's eyes flicker between us. Slowly, his head rolls into a nod of approval. "Very good. Sorry about the interlude. It's just the barbaric nature of your kind. Some aggression still lingers. We try to curb it, but, as you see," he indicates to the dispersing crowd, "it can resurface. Walker, is it?" he turns to the boy. "Explain the process and the Water Pole. And whatever else she needs to know."

Jeb glances between the two of us, offering up a plastic smile and then, cupping his hands behind his back, retreats for the portcullis. When he disappears behind it, Walker pulls something black hanging from his hip.

"I'm steaming today so you can use my Senz," he offers me what appears to be a set of black clams. "They're your hand shovels for digging. Come on," he shakes them, "we need to make this fast."

With a deep exhale, I slip them on and follow as he leads us toward the right bank of the trench.

"Each morning you'll grab a pair and—"

"Save it. I don't plan on being here long."

"Yeah, you and me both, sweetheart."

"I'm serious."

"Look," he spins, "it's either here or dead. Out there," he barely motions past the gate, "is not an option."

"For you."

The first real smile sweeps his lips as his face lights up with dimples I'm sure gets him anything he wants. He gestures to a giant metal pole in the center of the area that towers close to the same height as the Castle. "That's the Water Pole. You need a drink during the day... hell, just a break," he shrugs, "you got yourself a five, ten minute escape."

The plan was to get on the ground. And I've made it. Now all I have to do is let this guy go on and have him believe I'm listening. But once he leaves, I'm reverting to the original plan—fleeing at dismissal.

"Over here," Walker heads for the trenches, "you've got your digging. You're an Arrival so you'll be using your Senz," he indicates to the black hand-tools, "to dig out the gibb. Get's extremely monotonous, so heads up. Hey—you listening?"

"Yeah."

He raises a brow but continues walking, "when the gibb is dried, it's used to make walls. And that's what those," he indicates the silvery giant domes, "are for."

We stop in front of them—devices that look like hundred year old tortoise shells with all legs still attached. Four boys hold a handle as the dome hovers above the ground, steam escaping and pouring down on the light blue gibb below. The gibb slowly erodes back on itself, ultimately flattening into the large sheets of plum-black marble being carried around me.

"What are they?"

"They're Gollops," he hooks his hands on his hips. "Cooks the gibb into hard, flat sheets. Once they're ready, we have them transported upstairs. Now," he turns to me, "there are three basic jobs. Digging, using the Gollop—we call them Steamers—and Transporting. Most Arrivals stick to Digging but if it gets boring—and it will—you can always try your hand as a Steamer or in Transporting."

I nod.

"You'll be over here," he leads us back to the right curve of the trench lip. As we peer over, it's deeper than I realized. People are fully inside it, the small black clamps cusped in each hand as they claw into the light blue walls. Giant buckets sit between each person, a dispenser for all the gibb collected. "Just find whatever bucket's available, fill it and bring it to the Steamers. Keep going until dismissal."

Just leave so I can make another run for it.

"We good?"

I nod again, avoiding his eye.

"Seriously," he leans in, "don't even think about it. There's no point in getting yourself killed." His golden eyes shift between mine before he heads back for the Gollops and toward the middle of the lot.

I can still do it. At the end of this, when everyone's heading back inside, I can flee. It won't be as great a distraction as the fight was, but it's _something_. I climb down an unsteady ladder propped against the trench wall. Once I'm in, and the blue reaches above my head by a few feet, I look around.

I'm surrounded by two endless rows of people clawing at the powder blue substance on either side of the trough. A narrow space separates the lines but large metal buckets sit between each person, filled with the collected gibb. Everyone's shoulder to shoulder so I walk for a minute, finally spotting a few empty buckets up on the right.

Just a little while longer and you'll be out of here.

With another deep inhale I start clawing into the blue wall just like everyone else. I'm not really working—just biding my time. Waiting it out. Trying to decide the best course of action when the next opportunity arrives. I'll have to move further down the trench, getting myself as close to the gate as possible. I'll pretend to leave with everyone else, and then stay in here until they've all gone inside. I peek up, finding the point in the curving trough that's the shortest distance from the gate.

"Keep your head down."

It's a whisper from my left. I didn't even notice someone start working next to me but she's here—a beautiful Indian girl with luscious dark features. She's focused on digging and for a second, I wonder if I imagined it.

"Why?" I ask.

"Sshh... quiet."

"You're serious about that no socializing thing?"

"Not us," she flashes me a look, " _them_. They don't want us talking."

"Why?" I glance back toward the Castle, searching for Jeb but he's not there. I look back to the gate, searching for the guards—Yerza and Norpe—but find it abandoned like earlier. It's like we're out here alone.

"What're you thinking?" she whispers, risking another glance to me. "Didn't Walker tell you? It's suicide."

Think, girl, think. I might not be down here again. I might not get another chance.

"What will happen?" I ask.

"You'll be marked."

"As?"

"A run away," her voice is so soft, so quiet it could break, "and they'll take you."

I feel the blood drain from my face. "Take me where?"

She shrugs, "but you won't come back."

Chills race up my spine, freezing me as I quickly recalculate. We need to revolt. Revolt or escape. And right now, there doesn't seem to be a plan in gear for the first. None that I'm aware of at least. So it's back to the original plan—escape. Even if it's not right now.

"And we work out here all day?" I whisper. "Every day?"

She nods, focused on the wall.

"Just digging?"

"Sshh... we really can't talk," she gestures me to keep clawing the gibb. A moment goes by. "I'm Raj by the way."

I want to give her my name but Fallon still seems foreign. It's familiar, but not right, like it's missing something. Something essential.

"You're Fallon, right?" she keeps her voice quiet.

I snap toward her. "How do you know?"

"Everyone knows."

"What?"

"Later..." she motions to the wall again, "after Rebuilding."

That would mean I'd have to forgo my escape plan. But we're out here every day. I could do it tomorrow. I could flee tomorrow if it meant just one more day here. And if anything, I could learn the schedules better. Find out how we're being supervised if there are no Dofinikes around to see us.One day. I'll give it one day and I'm gone tomorrow.

I glance at Raj, so focused on not seeing me. "When?"

"Leisure Time."

SCCCRRREEAACCHH!!

" _Holy shit!_ " I clamp the Senz to my ears. " _What the hell is that?_ "

I attempt to drown out the ungodly sound but it's permeating from the Castle's walls, screaming all the way to the jungle on the other side of the wrought-iron gate.

"Dismissal from Rebuilding," Raj is calm next to me. She's heard this so many times it doesn't even bother her. Everyone else is the same. They drop their Senz into their buckets and retreat on automatic, heading for the nearest ladder and forming an orderly line out.

Even though I've decided to stay, I briefly consider making a run for it again. Maybe it won't be suicide now, not in the middle of all this movement. Maybe Raj is wrong. How can they know every person's position? Someone could easily get lost in all this.

As if hearing my thoughts, she beckons me toward the ladder with the others. "They'll know. Come on."

I glance regretfully at the curve in the trench—the point I've selected as the closest to the gate. Tomorrow. Tomorrow I'll dig there so when the dismissal rings, I'll get lost in everyone's movement and flee. Tonight I'll learn what I need to know for tomorrow. One day. Just one more day.

Out of the trench, Raj and I head back for the portcullis with the others. Once we've entered the Courtyard, she leans in, "Now it's dinner. And then Reminders. I'll find you at Leisure Time." She scampers away before I have a chance to ask where.

Everyone's making their way up the stairwells to their rooms. Arching back, I eye the fifteen floors I'll need to go, just to eat and then come right back down.

One more day.

I take off up the stairs and am completely winded by the time I get there. Dragging myself to my crimson arch, I punch the six symbols Jeb showed me and I head into my broom closet of a room. With the sun setting, it's darker in here and only two babeebs light the tiny space, casting a minimal glow. I'm about to throw myself on the bed and catch a moment of rest when I notice a narrow shelf with a small black bowl protruding from the wall. Curiosity has got the better of me so I make my way over, peering inside.

The grey, lumpy soup doesn't look appetizing in the least. I bring it under my nose and inhale the bland, almost mothy scent. I push it away immediately. Just as I've decided to forgo dinner, my stomach offers its own opinion, gurgling so loud that my hands slip over to cover it.

Food would be smart.

And if I don't have any of that, maybe this will do.

Forcing myself, I bring the bowl to my mouth and slowly sip at the mushy, oatmeal like texture. I nearly gag on its sogginess, the overwhelming need to vomit rising. It's like chewed up bread with grisly bits mixed in, the flavor adding nothing but a foul aftertaste.

They expect us to eat this shit?

It gurgles on its way down and instantly, I regret sampling it. It's like swallowing barf, it's so gross and I think I might actually throw it up. Somehow, I keep it down. Glaring at the mush, I know I won't last long if this is the only sort of sustenance they give us.

But I won't be here for much longer.

I'm leaving tomorrow. After Rebuilding. During another fight—whenever. I'm not letting Walker or Raj or anyone else talk me out of it. I'm leaving.

After another brutalizing dismissal, I head down to the Auditorium with everyone else. Unlike earlier, it's filled to the brim, bodies lining the room, occupying this giant gymnasium of shadowy space. A huge thicket surrounds the center, swarming the trunk, ready for Reminders and then, as the raw heat radiating throughout the room suggests, Leisure Time.

Couples already decorate the walls, hooked into each other. They're free down here, free to do what they want and _how_ they want—and it's encouraged. What must it be like to work alongside your significant other and not be able to speak a word to them all day? Or touch, hug and kiss, if the urge struck? They're able to release all that down here—and they are. Boy, are they! I try to look away but it's difficult. Up on the surface, no one acknowledges one another but here, they're making up for all that.

"Good evening friends," Jeb's voice booms.

Someone passes me in a hurry and I'm knocked to the side, to a narrow space between two girls with a view of the floating trunk. Jeb's on it, draped in a crimson robe with black lining this time, his hands lost in the overlapping fabric of his sleeves.

"Welcome to another day on Harrizel," he grins, surveying the crowd with interest, "and as always, to your Rebirth. Just a few Reminders before Leisure Time may begin. First," he starts as I weave closer throughout the crowd, "please try to limit your trips to the Water Pole. Remember, without your continued diligence and hard work, the construction on the upper floors will suffer and in turn, new housing will be delayed so please... try to make do with less. Second, please be reminded that you are allowed only _three_ babeebs in your room. We do this as a courtesy to the others and anyone found with more will receive a visit from Tetlak. Lastly," he beams wider as I meander even closer to the iridescent trunk, "journeying past the gate is _prohibited_ ," Jeb's voice falls a notch. "Harrizel's jungle is treacherous to say the least and the only thing that awaits you out there is death. We know the last thing you'd want is our sacrifice to be in vain, so do what's right for your people, not yourself. Once we can agree to these terms, I think it will fare better for all," he continues smiling, glancing around the room. "And now, as promised, Leisure Time may begin."

A slow and haunting melody permeates from the walls, drifting over us as most lose themselves in the booming erotic atmosphere. They dance along, grinding into one another with their hands and faces already entwined in wet, lustful passion.

I cringe.

Oh God—what must it be like to live here?

Tomorrow. I'm leaving tomorrow. This is all a show for tonight, one I'll never have to see again. I can skate through one evening of uninhibited lust if it means a chance to make for the ruins tomorrow. After that—well, I'll figure it out then.

I just need to find Raj for tonight.

But we didn't pick a place to meet. And the Auditorium is _huge_. And filled with people. How will we ever find each other? And what kind of information will she have? I think about staying put. If we're both looking for one another and we're constantly on the move, then we'll never find each other. It's probably the smarter idea but I'm only able to keep my feet still for so long. Maybe I could take a quick look and see if I can spot her. I am, after all, a bit taller and can see over. I'll probably find her faster than she can find me.

Strolling through the crowded mass, my eyes dart from face to face, which is hard because most are clinging to one another. Does _everyone_ use Leisure Time to make out? Or just the people in here?

Maybe not everyone—

Something hard bumps into my right shoulder, knocking me off balance. I stagger, ready to glare at the passerby when I spin around and see _him_.

The boy from the ruins.

#  Chapter Five: Boy from the Ruins

"You," I say, inaudibly at first. "It's _you_."

His eyes pierce mine, lightning flashing. He backs up, nearly disappearing but I grab his wrist before he can get away.

"Wait!"

He snatches his wrist back, staring down in astonishment. How did I find him? Or was he really foolish enough to bump into me? We stand looking at each other, dumbfounded. At six foot, he's taller than I expected—taller than me—with a lean shape to match his height but heavily muscular in proportion. In the wild he was just a face, a combination of confusion and surprise but here, he towers, his short, shaggy brown hair the same color as his high arching brows and deep, penetrating gaze.

"I saw you out there..."

He glances beyond me, quickly calculating. He brings both pinkies up to his mouth and whistles, the sound sailing behind me. I know he's calling for someone but the sight of him keeps me frozen in place. He's the only one I know for certain that's done it. The only who's gone beyond the gate—and returned. Did he slip through? Between the rods like I'd planned? Or is there another way? A thousand questions erupt as I replay seeing him out there, the most important thought rushing to the surface.

"What were you doing?" I ask, unable to keep my eyes off him, "everything went black. I woke up and..."

He whistles again, catching eyes with someone in the distance. There's a commotion behind me, a shuffle of feet and I know we're about to be separated. He must know it too because the right side of his mouth rises, a fishhook caught in his cheek. He'll be rid of me soon enough. What a punk. I desperately want to knee him, but this is my chance. Violent tactics, though they feel appropriate, may ruin the whole thing. And if I lose him, I may never discover how he got out there.

"What happened to me?" I demand and his sight drops back down. "I can't remember anything... what did you _do_?"

His lips part, but as it looks like he may actually utter a response, I'm cut off, pushed back by several bodies which begin dancing between us. The boy—whoever he is—uses the opportunity to escape into the crowd, but not before offering me one final look. It holds guilt, confusion... maybe he wanted to tell me. But he's gone before he can change his mind and I'm left peering after him and into a hive of dancers.

He's not getting away that easy.

Shifting to the side of the new group, I start after him when more bodies conveniently block my way. I dodge them but more appear, creating an impenetrable shield between us. I'm about to barrel through, knocking everyone from my path when Raj's voice sails over.

"Fallon? What're you..." she scurries up to me, her eyes wide, "what're you _doing_?"

"I have to find..." I'm still attempting to dodge past the dancers but they've entangled themselves like a nest, "...this guy..."

"Who?"

"I don't know his name," I nearly run into a hard torso. "Uh—could you move?"

"Fallon," Raj grasps my hand, yanking me back to her, "you've got to be careful."

"Why?"

"You can't..." she glances around, "you can't just do whatever you want."

"Why not?"

"There's a system," she whispers.

"What do you mean a _system_? Raj?" I focus in on her, completely abandoning my search of the boy. "Raj, what aren't you telling me?"

She leans in and cups her hand to my ear. "The Clans."

"Clans?" I jerk back.

"Sshh! We don't talk about them! Not out loud, at least."

"Why not? What are they?"

She resumes cupping her hand to my ear, her words leaving in an exasperated rush, "They're two rival groups. Gangs, if you want the truth. They run everything here, including the Market, which is where we buy our _real_ food. But you have to be careful. You can't walk around accosting anyone. It'll get back to them. It'll cause trouble."

I pull back and look between her eyes. She's completely serious.

I definitely want to know more about this Market but as I'm deciding on my question, she gestures me to speak into her ear as she did for me. Obviously, this is not a conversation to be having openly. It seems silly discussing something so secretive right here in the middle of foreplay central, so I motion to the closest Maze entrance nearby. It's the green and plum-black checkered wall. The West entrance. "Did you want to talk back there?"

She follows my gaze, her eyes growing wide again. "Oh no! That's where they work. West for Rogues and East for Kings."

"Are those their names?"

She nods, biting her lip.

"What about the other two?" I glance to the North and South entrances.

"Uh... no," she shakes her head, eyeing the South wall quickly, "I don't think they're used for anything... but I still wouldn't go in there. It's safer out here, with everyone else."

"Then where should we talk?"

"Uh..." she looks around, "there's really no safe place. We can talk by the West Wall but we just have to be _quiet_."

"Okay," I lead the way and surprisingly the dancers let me pass. When we reach the green checkered wall, I lean against it. Crossing my arms, I keep my voice low. "Tell me about the Market."

"It's a way to buy things," she whispers. "Food, mostly. But you can get almost anything. You buy items—we call them tokens—by performing services for the Clans. They'll ask you to spy on someone or find something out. Sometimes they'll want you to get someone to a certain place at a certain time. But it's never easy and you almost _never_ want to do it."

"Then how come people do?"

She looks at me with woeful eyes. "They're hungry."

Shit.

"Are the Dofinikes aware of the Clans?"

She nods.

"And they're fine with it?"

Again, she nods.

Of course Jeb and Clarence wouldn't tell me about Harrizel hosting its own black market economy. Why would they? That would only serve to aid me and neither have done anything to help me. Well, everyone else can sell their soul to work for their food. I'm going to find my sustenance. In the jungle, once I leave tomorrow night. But still, curiosity has got me asking.

"So you just walk up—"

Raj stops me, indicating I should speak into her ear.

"So," I lean in, doing as she requests, "you just walk up to one of the Clans and barter for a piece of bread?"

"No..." she shakes her head, "nothing like that. You never deal directly _with_ the Clans. It's always done through the Scouts. They're like... the middle-men. They deliver the requested token—gupple or marowine or whatever—and tell you what you need to do."

"What if you don't do it?"

"Then the Clans come for you."

"Okay," I exhale, lost in all the questions racing through my head, "then... how do you find a Scout? Is there a list posted somewhere?"

"They come to _you_."

"Meaning?"

"The Clans _choose_ who they want to work with. You can't go asking for tokens. You've got to be selected. _Recruited_."

"Wow...that... seems like a lot of work just to eat."

She shrugs. "It's what we have to do."

"Doesn't anyone..." I lean in again, cautious to ask, "just _leave_?"

Raj shakes her head adamantly. "The Dofinikes watch you. That's what I was trying to tell you earlier. From the labs on the top floor. That's how they know," she keeps her voice low, " _plus_..."

"What?"

She glances around, then back to me. "The gate is rigged. They know if you try to pass through it. Some have. Then... the next day... they were gone."

Gone?

Okay, things have definitely spiraled to a new level. Not only is the gate rigged, but they'll take us if we try to escape? But how can they get us if we're already gone? If I keep going, straight into the jungle, they won't be able to catch me. I could still do it. I could still disappear out there... and then... and then I don't know...

"So..." Raj goes on, "no one even tries anymore. There was a rush of people a while ago who thought they could just make it past the gate. They did. The last thing we saw was them running off into the jungle."

"So how do you know the Dofinikes took them? Maybe they're still out there?"

She shakes her head, her face dropping. "They bring them back. At night. If you're on the North wall, you can see it from your window. You can _hear_ it. They drag them right through the Courtyard and into the evibola for upstairs."

"So obvious?"

Her voice lowers. "They _want_ us to see."

_Shit_.

So escape may not be the best plan. Not yet at least. But I can't live here. I can't let this be my life. This _isn't_ my life. But him—that boy. He got out of here and returned. They haven't taken him so it's possible that I could do the same. I'll just never come back.

"What?" Raj winces, watching me work through things.

But I can't give away my plan. To find him—whoever he is—and get the secret; and find out how he was able to leave without being dragged back. For now— _right_ now—I'll have to stay put. Endure this until I'm able to do something about it. But if I'm going to stay, I'll need to know more about how this whole system works.

"Raj... I need you to do something for me."

"What?"

I draw her in close, whispering into her ear again, "I need you to point out the Clans. Who're the big players?"

"But you can't—"

"I'm not going to _talk_ to them. Just want to know who they are."

"I..."

"You know, don't you? Tell me. You've _got_ to tell me."

"Um..." her eyes shift nervously before finding mine again. "Okay, but you _cannot_ talk to them. I'm serious. They're just as bad as the Dofinikes if they feel threatened."

"Then... think of it as warning me who _not_ to bother."

"Okay."

She links her arm in mine as we casually meander. She's quiet for a few minutes, just as we reach the North Wall and then she leans into my ear with a whisper. "A lot of them aren't here. They're mostly in the Maze."

"Do you see _anyone_?"

"A few Scouts. Low level."

We continue around the Auditorium, completing a near lap until we pause by the Southwest wall. Raj motions ahead, keeping her voice to a low mumble. "That's him."

"Who?"

She gestures again before turning toward my shoulder, "Straight ahead. Light brown hair. Blue eyes. That's Tucker—the Rogue's Leader."

I follow her gaze and pinpoint the candidate. Tall and muscular, he falls in with everyone else, donning the same well-fitted scratchy blue scrubs. But instead of dancing along with the amorous crowd, he hovers close to the West Wall, arms crossed as he listens to three guys all attempt to explain something at once.

"Rogues," Raj whispers.

"And you can't approach them?"

"No!" she squeezes her arm with mine, speaking into my shoulder again. "I told you. It's suicide. We're probably being watched right now, watching them. Come on," she directs us through the entanglement of bodies grinding together around the iridescent trunk in the center of the room. Once we're through and Tucker and the Rogues are no longer visible, she slows.

"Okay," I recap, "so no approaching Clans."

"And oh!" her eyes flare, "same goes for Rox. But, like, a _thousand_ fold."

"Who's Rox?"

"The one who's _really_ in charge. You want your Kingpin, that's him. Tucker is the Rogues' Leader, but he _reports_ to Rox."

"So... is Rox in charge of both Clans?"

Raj shakes her head. "Just the Rogues. But he's _lethal_."

"Okay...well where is he? What does he look like?"

"He's normally not here during Leisure time. Probably in the Maze."

"If you find him, point him out."

"Will do," she nods, "and with Grisham too. He's the Kings' Leader."

I can't believe I came to Leisure Time expecting to get an inch of information and came away with the whole damn dictionary. I guess it's good though. Better. I need to know everything I can. It's the only way to survive before I can leave again. And I will. Once I find him and I know his secret, I'm gone.

With no other purpose for being down here, I eye the closest stairwell. I'm about to head for it when I stop and turn to Raj. She didn't have to tell me any of this. I could've been lost or barked up the wrong tree on accident. At least I'm somewhat the wiser. "Thanks, Raj."

Her grin is the last thing I see before I dart up the obsidian steps and over the snaking Gizella roots. I dash past the hovering babeebs, eager to make my way to my bunker. That's the plan. But once I reach the Courtyard, I slow. Chills race up my spine, my heart thumping in response to the eerie feeling suddenly overwhelming me. I scan the Courtyard. Few linger in conversations, some fondling each other while the rest make their way back for their rooms like me.

Then I see her—the one stagnant in a slow but steady stream. Younger than most—ten, maybe eleven—she clutches a rounded maroon something in her hand as she leans against one of the black tarantula trees. With her pensive hazel eyes locked on mine, she brings the food to her mouth for a deliberate bite, red juice spilling down her chin and onto her fitted blue top.

She wants me to see this.

The girl continually stares as she takes another bite, trying to figure something out. I give her one final look before heading up the fifteen flights to my bunker and once inside, I lock the latch, throwing myself onto the mattress of rags. My mind races itself into a frenzy as I drift away wondering about the taste of that red juice.

***

Rebuilding.

Could it get any worse than this? And with the gate so close... so alluring. I'm tempted. _So_ tempted. But it's not freedom. It's a trap. I have to keep telling myself that. Over and over, otherwise, I'm bound to make a go at it.

Who knows how long I've been out here. It seems like forever. It could be two minutes. Could be two hours. Time doesn't pass and I can't stand the thought of this being the rest of my life. Pushing that thought from my mind, I decide it's time for a break. I make for the ladder, climb out of the trench and head for the giant metal pole in the center of the lot.

A swarm of people already surround it, in need of a break like me. Its sizable width allows for multiple uses, so rows and rows of shiny blue buttons with small black squares cover the rounded metal surface. The squares dispense a cup and the buttons fill them with water. As I find a clearing and focus on a square close to eye level, a moving, hurried force knocks me off balance.

_Him_.

Instant relief fills me as all worries about never getting a second chance vanish. A quick dash and I'm at his side, following him back to the Gollops. "Clever."

It takes a minute but he finally glances over and when he does, he remains silent, merely scanning me. We walk in silence and I wait for him to say something but he never does.

"Want to tell me how you got out there?"

"Not really."

"Come on."

His long strides take him far, fast, but I'm tall too. I can keep up. Except then he stops abruptly, leaning in. "Can you keep a secret?"

My heart skips. I mirror his stance, our faces inches apart, "Yes..."

"So can I," he pulls back, walking away with a teasing grin. It takes a moment to realize he's not telling me and that I'm still miles from the truth. But at least he's talking. I've just got to keep him going.

"What's your name?"

"What's it to you?"

"Like to know who I'm talking to."

"Or stalking?" he raises a brow.

" _You're_ the one who keeps knocking into me," I scoff, "without an apology I might add."

"Yet here you are."

"It's because you're _so_ dreamy," I roll my eyes. "Look, I just want to know—"

"Nope."

The vibrating Gollops sing over the gray ground as a dust cloud skirts past, polluting the air with cover. I'm losing time—I have to get it out of him now. _Right_ now. Racing in front, I force him to stop and, surprisingly, he acquiesces. "You were me once," I search his eyes for any friendly flame, any trace of humor. "Do yourself a favor."

There's no response to this, not even a flinch. It's like he's trying to decide what the right reaction should be... and then, the one he wants to give. He makes me wait an insanely long time until resuming livelihood with the start of an optimistic nod. But then, when he opens his mouth to what I hope will be the truth, he walks past me, wordless.

I'm at his side. "Wow, you're hard on yourself."

"And you're aiming high. Now really, what do you want?"

"The pleasure of your company. Is that not obvious?"

"It's not free," he states as if it were some law I should be aware of. But after a second, when weakness gives way, he flashes me a look. Nothing much, just the tiniest twitch at the corner of his mouth, like the seed to an unborn smile. "But I understand the desire."

"So..." I keep it hopeful, "you could make an exception?"

"I could..." he feigns thinking about it, "but no."

"I'll owe you," I keep pace with him, although he's making it extremely difficult.

"You can't afford it."

"You don't know that."

"I do."

"So you know everything?"

"Pretty much."

I slow to a stop. "God you're vain."

"Not vain," he abruptly halts as well, crossing his arms, "honest. I'm losing time here, Fallon. Now what can I do for you?"

"So you get my name and I don't get yours?"

He exhales as though I'm asking the world from him. "Reid," he confesses after a minute. "You can call me Reid."

"That wasn't so hard, was it?"

"You have no idea."

"Look..." I approach him, "... _Reid_. Not trying to impose. Just, help me out. I need to get out of here."

"Yeah, you and everyone else."

"So..." another step and this time his body goes rigid, "will you tell me?"

He exhales, seriously considering this time. I think I might have broken through his shield but then disappointment flexes in his guilt-stricken features. "Sorry," he shakes his head, backing away. "Can't."

He leaves before I have a chance to respond, making his way for the Gollops with quick, confident strides. Now what am I supposed to do? I continue for the Water Pole, trying to strategize my next move when a shrill, deadening scream slices the air, silencing everything around us to an eerie halt.

#  Chapter Six: Secrets Revealed

I've never heard such a sound.

Like seeing one's childhood nightmares appear. Watching them come for you, believing in that kind of evil, knowing it still exists. _Terror_. I know it. The feeling. Being stripped of your voice, of your ability and freedom to fight back. Of everything keeping you alive, keeping you human. But she fought. If only for a second. And we heard it, hanging in her scream, a warning cry to us all.

It's real. It's all real...

A dust cloud blows over and everyone has vanished. Even the Water Pole lies hidden beneath waves of the grey ash. They sweep from the trenches, skirting the matted, cracked dirt and separating us in billowing sheets. Footsteps draw nearer, slowly at first, just as silhouettes emerge through the veil. All drawn by instinct to the cry, they narrow their direction to me.

I'm about to tell them they're mistaken—they've got the wrong girl—when a voice croaks behind me and I turn.

On the ground, just feet away, lies a girl no older than Raj, bound by air restraints, paralyzed on the ground. Her wrists lay cuffed on the small of her back, her bare feet just inches apart. So still she could be asleep, it's the eyes you see first. The eyes that give it away.

They flash panic to each person approaching but no one steps any closer. It's like a bubble of space has been drawn around her, commanding us to stop at the line. With every person pausing at the sight of her, her fear heightens.

Will no one help?

Finally, she sees me, targeting my face like a magnet. I want to—I want to _so_ badly—but I can't look away. She begs, _pleads_ with me to help her. To do something. I'm her only chance. But what can I do? I don't have any power. I'm only one person.

A tear escapes, gliding over her quivering nose and dripping to muddied blonde hair below. She holds my stare until six black talons crash into the dirt by her legs—the landing to a half mile's thunderous leap. Her screaming eyes swell at the sight as the dust dissipates, revealing him like an illusion before us.

A _real_ Dofinike.

The ones at the gate were so small, scurrying around like tiny bugs on a pole. Even Jeb hinted at their ineffectualness. But up close, just feet away, it's different. _He's_ different.

And enormous.

Looming at seven—maybe eight—feet, he towers with wide, hardened shoulders and a jagged wooden staff sharpened at the tip to three metal points. Dark pine, his shelled body plates cover him like impenetrable armor with thin, lizard-like skin stretching over boulder-sized thighs and biceps. Whiskers cascade beneath his snout, under two center slits in his cratered, scaly face, but it's the eyes you see first. Those yellow eyes that stop you in your tracks.

He glances to the girl before scanning the rest of us, a quickly growing crowd. With the dust gone, more people migrate closer, peaking over each other's heads, trying to get a better look at the scene. The Dofinike sniffs and nearly everyone backs up, jetting behind one another. He grunts in a low, warning pitch which rolls into a breathy growl as steam pours from his nostrils, playing his whiskers like chimes. He scans us again. Each face. Each new human investigating the scene. There are so many of us but only one of him.

The girl's terrified eyes find mine once more, begging for a last chance—any possible chance—of help. Can it still exist? She's found her way here, demanded our attention, willed a crowd to gather at her defense and sent a message so transparent, the hairs on my neck and arms still stand. There's _got_ to be hope for her. It can't end like this.

But the Dofinike jerks his hand back, a nearly invisible net springing around her and digging into her skin with semi-reflective cord. Her body tightens; all hope draining from her face. She knows like I do now—it's futile. There is no help for her. She's on her own, whatever that may mean.

With a final glare, the Dofinike turns, carving a tunnel through the silenced mob as he drags the girl along the ground and heads for the Castle. We all watch them go, our sights fixated on the pair as they grow smaller in the distance and before long, disappear completely.

"Hey..." Raj is suddenly at my side, joining the sudden circuit of whispers, "what happened to Hinson?"

"No idea."

"That was strange... it was like she came out of nowhere."

"From the Castle," I say, still straining to watch the Dofinike disappear with his prize, "but why? Shouldn't she have been out here?"

Raj follows my stare, considering the question. Yes, the girl should've been out here—I can see it on her face. So why was she dragged back inside?

"Did she try to escape?" I ask.

Another long stare at the disappearing pair. Finally, Raj shakes her head. "No."

Suddenly, a second Dofinike, also in his natural form, scurries up the open path to the center of the mob, his long custard coat flapping. Smaller than the first, a long gash runs across his left eye, starting from the top of his head and slicing down to his neck. He greets us with a grin, contorting the scar into a sideways smile.

"Ergiloff," Raj whispers in my ears as he approaches, "one of the scientists."

All whispers stop as he lifts his hands in the air and speaks in a formal, nearly cautious tone, commanding the crowd.

"My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience," his words echo, "we believe the girl consumed a very rare but poisonous berry. She was undergoing treatment when the berry poison caused her to spasm and flee the treatment center."

More whispers are exchanged as all eyes fix on the scientist.

"Please," he goes on, "don't let this interfere with Rebuilding—continue on as normal. We will have her healed and back to you as soon as possible." With this, the second Dofinike scuttles back in the direction he came, his custard coat and whiskers flapping in the breeze.

"Maybe that's why she's been throwing up every morning," Raj muses to herself, drowning in ponderous thoughts, "...but what kind of poisonous berries are there? I don't remember seeing any berries in the Market..." she squints, trying to work something out.

I start to replay her words—something of interest sparked a review—but the sight of the scrambling Dofinike takes precedence, especially as the loose dirt his talons have kicked up creates a grey shield behind him.

"I'll be back." I start to follow Ergiloff, but Raj snatches my wrist.

"What're you crazy?" She's astonished I'd even consider it, her eyes wide with disbelief. "You _can't!_ "

"It'll be fine," I peel her fingers from me.

"But..."

"Real quick."

I don't bother waiting for a response, but set off after Ergiloff, hidden in the arms of his dusty trail. He's _fast_. Faster than expected, like a lizard skirting across the hot desert floor. But I'm tall and fast as well. I follow him back to the Castle, to the open portcullis and he dashes through, into the Courtyard. Approaching the entrance, I pause, scanning for movement.

Nothing.

Closing my eyes, I clear the shadows in my head and listen. He has talons and everything is marble, stone. Sound is the ally here, not sight. There'll be clinking. A clanking. Everything stills for a moment until a tat-tat-tat echoes up the stairwell to my immediate right.

Taking off in that direction, I fly up the stairs, leaping on the pads of my toes as quickly and quietly as possible. Up ten flights, my legs burn with each step until the tat-tat-tat grows louder and suddenly, abruptly, halts on the twelfth floor.

I pause, growing rigid. Closing my eyes again, I listen.

A whimper.

Waves of hissing vowels pour, igniting me with newfound fear. Holding my breath, I listen to the sudden snarls viciously launched. And then another whimper—human this time, and stronger. Like waking up again. Panicked breath breaks through and then there's a scream—the same scream from outside. Only _more_ frightened. _More_ terrified than before.

A ringing shiver courses through me and I'm thankful they can't hear it. Can't hear my heart pounding away in my chest, screaming at me to run. To obey my natural instincts and fly from this place. But I'm frozen. Even if I wanted to, my legs wouldn't allow it. They're keeping me here, prisoner to the stairwell. The hissing continues with louder, sharper snarls and grunts, bits of human whimpering threading through. I have to know.

Inching my way up, I carefully peer past the top step and take in the scene.

Two Dofinikes stand in a threatening embrace. The larger, intimidating one, who dragged the girl—what did Raj call her? Hinson?—assumes the dominant role, while Ergiloff, the scientist, is the submissive. The first points to the jerking body on the floor between them, stabbing his black talon into Ergiloff's chest. The girl habitually convulses, waking to a new scream every few seconds before stilling again.

"What are you doing here?"

I snap back, ready to run when I see him a few steps below me.

"Jeb," I slump my shoulders, silently forcing my heart back to its routine beat. _Remain impassive_. Quick—what's the most logical reason for being here? "I was heading for my room when I heard something... " I start to peer toward the Dofinikes when Jeb rushes past me, blocking my view with his body. "I wasn't sure what was happening."

"You're _not_ supposed to be here. Why are you away from your work station?"

"I felt sick. I was going to lie down before I passed out."

Another scream bursts behind him and he yanks me by the arm, swinging me the other direction, "Come. You must leave at once."

"Everything okay?" I try to peer beyond my shoulder.

"Berry poison. _Very_ terrible. They're treating her now."

"What kind of berry?"

"It's um..." Jeb says, his sights on the descending stairwell, "...very poisonous. _Devastating_ effects. Here you go," he deposits me down a floor, motioning me to continue on. "Get some water. Stay hydrated and break when you need to. _Don't_ go back to your room," he offers a brief, insincere smile."Goodbye, Fallon."

Scampering back the way we came, he disappears into the shadows above before I have a chance to respond.

***

Reminders.

I'm in the Auditorium, weaving toward the outer rim of the crowd which surrounds the glowing trunk. Best to stay out of any specific area in general. In with the thicket and I'll get swallowed when the music starts. Lining the walls and I'll be somebody's fondling buddy. Neither sounds particularly appealing, so I stick to the sparse bit of space between the two, scanning the low-lit room.

Near the entrance to the West Wall, I immediately find a pair that stick out—a good looking blonde who could be a model and his surly, dark featured friend. They were the same guys talking to Tucker last night.

Rogues.

They pass a joint between them, seemingly oblivious to the others crowded around. Blondie is laughing through a story while his partner listens inattentively. A third joins them, throwing his arms around both pairs of shoulders. The frowner shrugs him off but Blondie doesn't seem to mind. He passes the joint to the new guy and the two take over conversation. Further down, Walker has some girl pinned against the wall and down from them, couples line themselves up, ready for serious action once the Reminders have concluded. Scanning the room, I keep the Rogues in view but then my heart stops when I see their newest addition.

Reid keeps his arms crossed, surveying as he meanders closer, a young boy—thirteen or fourteen— eagerly on his tail.

Shit. He's a Rogue?

He quickly mouths something to the boy, barely motioning with a slight jerk of his head and the boy takes off, weaving through the packed herd, which tightens together at Jeb's request. Reid watches him until he's gone, scanning the crowd with little interest... until stumbling upon me.

It only lasts a second, but something in my stomach ignites, like a small fireball growing roots in my abdomen. I focus on the trunk, on the Gizella trees climbing the walls or the hanging babeebs— _anything_ other than him.

_Shit_.

_Shit. Shit. Shit_.

And I approached him. That's exactly what Raj told me not to do. There goes my chance for freedom _and_ food. Now I'm fucked. Royally fucked. How am I going to fix this? Pushed by something—maybe desperation—I need one last look to see. Maybe I'm just hoping he'll change his mind and talk to me. He'll give in and share what he knows. The fireball grows stronger as I consider this and after a moment of quick debate, I allow myself one last glance.

My breath catches—he's still watching me.

"Welcome, friends," Jeb's voice echoes, breaking our magnetic stare. I forget about Reid and inch closer to the trunk. "Tonight, we are once again honored with the presence of your heroic leader who selflessly initiated the courageous endeavor of rescuing and restoring the once mighty human race."

With a swift leap, Jeb flies from the trunk, exchanging places with a man much older than him, dressed similarly in the same red robe and black sash. His stark white hair shines like a beacon atop a brow of thick ridged wrinkles. Jade, beady eyes pierce from the center of his crinkled smirking face.

Beshib.

"Welcome," he lifts his arms, waiting for the echo of his voice to die down. When it does, he assumes a solemn expression, his head lowering as if in prayer. "When I first came to your planet, I thought it all a dream..." he speaks in soft, breakable words, "a _nightmare_. How could a species do this to themselves? _Destroy_ themselves? Give up everything and for _what_?" he poses with a sharp flash of his emerald eyes. "For what?

"In the beginning," he starts pacing, his hands clasped behind his back, "your atrocities didn't seem entirely heinous. A barbaric attempt, of course, but what culture exists without some form of natural selection? Some form of population control? With our limited information, we assumed this was normal. Your daily slayings as part of a habitual, human routine. But could this be all there was? All you had? Self-induced genocide?" he stops, scanning us with an accusing glare. After a moment, he begins pacing in short strides around the trunk, calm again.

"After studying you, we began to understand it wasn't always this way. There was a time that you lived in peace with one another—some of you may even recall. An era of prosperity, family, friendship and love," he stops, scanning us with heated eyes. "But this was before you corrupted it. Before you cursed it. Before your children cried in the streets, orphaned by parents butchering one another. A time before brothers and sisters burned in homes while friends and neighbors swindled riches from the ashes. A time before you massacred your handicapped and slaughtered your elderly, all while your beautiful Earth lay in ruins...

"I tried to understand. Tried to see reason beneath the madness but there was none. _Greed_ ," his voice projects, echoing, "I later came to know as the cause. _Greed_ —the inevitable downfall to any civilization, especially one as primitive as yours. You allowed it to suck you in, to take you over. To destroy everything that mattered." He points a long finger at us, sweeping it across the audience as he turns about. "Greed has brought you here. It's taken your homes, your families, your lives—everything you hold dear—and given you nothing in return," Beshib slows to a stop, turning to us. "But _we_ have given you a replacement life.

"Once we understood, once we saw what was left—what _would_ be left had there been no intervention—we saved who we could. At first, there were many of you. We'd find entire families still intact, hiding in burrows and caves or borrowing homes of the deceased or the abandoned, all awaiting a salvation unlikely to arrive. We brought back as many as we could—whole shiploads, in the beginning—but with each returning voyage, less and less were found. Your small clans turned to dwindling packs of two or more and before long, we were lucky to find one wandering soul to save. Had the inevitable happened? Had Earth finally killed herself?

"We gave you what we could—food, shelter, a new beginning. A restored faith in yourselves," Beshib shakes his head in solemn concern, "but your numbers quickly dwindled once more. Your bodies, so unique and unlike that of the Dofinike, didn't acclimate to Harrizel as we'd hoped. How could we know? How could we plan for any of it?" he closes his eyes. "Bibbie pollen, a golden dust that coats the blue flower of its name, while aromatically appealing, can cause a series of spasms in humans before turning their organs into a jelly-like substance. Vizzle roots, a soothing medicinal rub for almost any ailment but on humans, will cause the skin to erode itself," Beshib opens his eyes. "So many had been saved... and for what? To die tragically of foreign diseases? Were we really saving your civilization or casting upon you a new curse? It's for these reasons," his voice turns lethal, a sharp finger sweeping the audience as he circles, "these _dangers_ that we keep you inside the gate, away from the wild where so many have perished before you."

He withdraws his finger and continues to pace in the little bit of room he has. "The human race is a young one. We recognize this and accept it as part of your nature. But there's only so much we can do. Look into your past and see the heinous crimes you've committed. _Remember_ it. There was some debate about whether you should even keep your memories," he continues to pace, as if considering the question still, "but had we taken those images from you, what hope could there be for change? How to learn from your mistakes if you don't know them? We've sacrificed too much time, too much energy ensuring the survival of _your_ race and for what? So you can repeat the error of your ways?

"No," his voice booms, "the Dofinikes have done their part. Even Clarence continues to look for more survivors but he can't resurrect your race alone. It's up to _you_ now, to ensure the survival of your species," he stops pacing, scanning us all one final time. "The past is gone and the present is here. It's time for you to act," Beshib opens his arms, raising them, "it's time for your Rebirth."

The routine melody rushes through the darkness, giving birth to Leisure Time and the suddenly thriving mob. The couples against the wall are already lost to each other, doing exactly as requested but I'm stuck, unable to shake Beshib's words.

Had we taken those images from you, what hope could there be for change?

I haven't thought about home, only because I've been too preoccupied with escape. But now that I try, now that I _really_ think about it, it's clear as day... or as clear as it _used_ to be, before the sky darkened with ash. Before the rivers and ponds swam with debris, drenched with rotting fish and swollen, floating limbs, hair clumps and various waterlogged pieces of flesh, all muddied together in the murky brown. Before the yellow grass grew in places still lucky enough to see it, while sidewalks sat littered with bones like leaves in the fall. And the cold. I can still feel it. As though the sun's been absent forever. For as long as I can remember.

Is this really my old life?

I look around, a tight knot growing in my stomach at the erotic movements surrounding me. And this is the new? Manual labor and repopulating? Is there another choice? There is! The ruins. I choose the ruins, whatever they mean. I'll find a way back to them, with or without Reid's help. But I can't stay here.

I _won't_.

Heading upstairs, I pass through the Courtyard and am overcome with the familiar feeling of being watched again. Looking around, I immediately find her propped against the same black tree, the strange food in hand. Something purchased from the Market? I stop, my eyes fixating on hers which barrel into me with the same puzzling stare. Without a second more to consider, she tosses me the maroon fruit and I catch it with both hands. She peels herself from the tree and heads for the Auditorium and I watch her go until she's gone.

I bring the food to my nose and inhale deeply. It smells sweet, like watermelon, with a subtle hint of tartness. I want to rip into it right here but don't. I race the rest of the way to my room and once inside, I dig my teeth in, tearing into the soft, moist flesh as red juice spills down my chin. I don't care. It's so sweet, so delicious compared to the mush I've been eating that all thoughts of earlier vanish with the honey nectar sliding down my throat. I take another bite, and another, completely insatiable.

That's it.

Tomorrow I'll find her. Her or Raj or Reid or whomever can get me more of this food. It's settled. Tomorrow I'm going shopping.

#  Chapter Seven: Maze

I'm waiting in the Courtyard for her.

Jeb's already finished Reminders and released us for Leisure Time. This is my second full day and it's getting harder to talk myself out of fleeing. Just plain fleeing. I've been dying to ask Raj how they tag you once you're through the gate, but I haven't seen her all day. And I didn't catch her at Leisure Time either. I won't leave until I get a few more answers but two days is two days too long, and whatever's out there _has_ to be better than in here. But until I can figure it out, I'll have to survive and it won't be on that mush. I need real food.

"Looking for me?"

She's right behind me, her golden brown locks pulled into a sharp pony tail and her eyes, two hazel spheres, barrel into me with the same complex stare. Up close, it's obvious how young she is. No more than eleven, she has to be one of the youngest ones here. Standing with her arms crossed, she narrows her eyes, analyzing, untrusting.

"I am, actually," I inch forward, towering above her. "What's your name?"

She barely steps back. "Pratt."

"Okay, Pratt. Why'd you give me that food?"

"Gupple—it's a Gupple."

I nod. "Why'd you give me that Gupple?"

She shrugs, "You looked like you were hungry."

"Well perceived," I advance another step, keeping my voice low. "Honestly, I don't plan on staying here long. But I'm going to need better sustenance than what they're providing. I've already heard about the Market, so I'm well aware of the system. I also think I've pissed off one of the Rogues so I'm not sure if this is even possible..."

"Fallon—"

I hold up a finger. "But I still need to eat. And I'm assuming you're a Scout. I'm not sure which Clan you're working with but for the love of all that is good, _please_ help me out."

She takes a moment, considering my offer before her shoulders slump in defeat. "Come with me."

"Where?"

"I'm not sure this is going to work," she glances over her shoulder as she leads me back to the Auditorium, "it probably won't, but it's worth a try."

"I'm not getting you in trouble, am I?"

"Hopefully not. We'll see how he reacts."

Once we're back in the Auditorium, we make for the West Wall where the golden scripted W hangs. Without so much as a pause, she heads straight through the entrance and into the darkness. My heart races, but there is no time to stop and think or panic. There's no time to do anything except follow her, which is what I do.

Straight into the darkness.

Leaving the soft glow of the babeebs behind, blackness consumes everything, my eyes struggling to adjust. But Pratt takes off, weaving without hesitation, knowing every turn, every alley, and I focus on her outline ahead, keeping pace, almost to her heel.

_Can't lose her. Can't lose her in here_.

We move swiftly through narrow corridors, Pratt leading us deeper into the labyrinth and after a few precise turns, we end up at our own dead end where a shadowed body paces, waiting. It's too dark to make out his face but Pratt darts over, whispering fiercely before the stranger has time to question my appearance.

Reid is more than surprised to see me—he's astonished, as if I were some ghost come to haunt him. He offers me only a moment's consideration, immediately silencing Pratt's rushed ramblings to justify my presence.

"Why'd you bring her here?"

"I just thought..." she begins, fumbling.

"You know Raj's been tailing her. She'll talk. No," Reid shakes his head, silencing the matter for good. He turns to me, hands on his hips. "Sorry, but you've got to forget about this. If you're hungry, we'll get you something but you can't be back here," he turns to Pratt again. "Talk to Able...rummage something up. He usually has a few extra tokens but don't bring anyone back here. You know better."

"Wait," I move closer, a sudden urge to protect Pratt rising. "It's not her fault. I asked for help. She thought you might be able to."

"Again, she should know better."

"Reid..." Pratt starts but he silences her with a finger.

"I told you to let it alone," he's speaking to her, his voice growing heated. "When I say no, I mean _no_."

"But..."

Reid shakes his head and looks at me, motioning for the exit. "Sorry but you need to leave."

"Hey, I just want to get out of here—after that, I'll be out of your hair. I promise."

"Look," he exhales, "I don't know you. Which means I can't trust you. I'd love to help out—honestly—but it's not something I'm able to do at the moment," he rubs the back of his neck. "Best I can do is get you a few Gupples. That's it."

"But I need the way _out_ ," I move for him and he grows rigid, his body stiffening at my approach. I stop and bite my lip. "Please?"

He's considering it, his eyes scanning me. Maybe he wants to. But just as I start celebrating his change of heart, he shakes his head. "I'm sorry, I can't help you. Pratt," he turns to her, "a few Gupples, okay? And this is done."

She reluctantly nods, offering me an apologetic frown. "Sorry."

"Its fine," I glance to Reid who's trying his best not to see me, "thanks anyway."

I turn from them, backing out of the corridor. Well, I guess I'm really on my own. And now, knowing Pratt's on his side, I'm _really_ alone. What am I going to do after those first few Gupples? Go back to the mush? Maybe I can get some more information out of Walker, or perhaps Raj...

Reid's words come crashing back again. What did he mean about Raj tailing me? Barely posing the question, she's here, in my face, in the darkened corridor.

"Fallon—hi!" she squeaks.

"Hi..."

"What're you doing in here?" she peaks over my shoulder.

Suddenly, I feel inclined to put Reid's words to the test. "Why are you interested?"

Her smile twitches slightly. "I just want to make sure you're settling in."

"You followed me in here?"

"No, I..." and now she stumbles for a second, glancing at the floor, trying to remind herself what she should be saying, "...was just leaving. Got turned around," she looks up with a shrug, "maze and all."

"What were you doing in here?"

She blinks.

"Raj," I take a breath, calming myself, "it's okay, you can tell me. What were you doing in here?"

Her eyes give it away. Those sunken chocolate almonds that flicker with fear. Apprehension. Questioning if she's ready for this. To do this. But with her eyes faulting, she overcompensates with a tremendous toothy smile. "I got lost. I meant to..."

"Cut it out. Tell me the truth."

"What truth?" she frowns suddenly.

"Raj," I exhale, annoyed with all the secrets. Maybe it's just my anger from Reid coming out but I'm fed up. "Were you following me?"

"I-uh..."

But as she starts stuttering a response, something over her shoulder catches my attention. It's Pratt, peeking out from the wall's edge. She finds me and we hold focus for a few seconds before she turns back again. I'd dismiss it immediately if it was just a random glance. But she meant for me to see her. There was reason in that look. A message.

Follow me.

"Never mind," I say, abandoning Raj to obey Pratt instead. It doesn't matter. Whatever she was going to admit, it'd probably be a lie. I'm a few steps away when Raj joins my side again, rambling on as she pulls at her fingers.

"You don't understand, Fallon. You really don't."

I keep going, ignoring Raj to follow Pratt. The swing of honey brown locks swishes past a corner up ahead and I move for it, Raj loyally at my side.

"I'm not trying to spy, or even...."

"It's fine."

"It's not. You've been nothing but nice. And me..."

I'm half listening, focusing instead on keeping Pratt in view, at least until I can watch her take the next turn. Her hair leads my way as she takes passage after passage, navigating me deeper and deeper into this seemingly unsolvable labyrinth. But after the fourth or fifth turn, when I swear we've reached the end and can go no further, I find myself staring down an empty dead-end alleyway.

She's gone.

Did I miss a turn? My pulse races, my first impulse to double back—I must have missed something. Starting to turn, I stop, more confused than ever. No, I _saw_ her go this way, watched her short ponytail disappear beyond the wall, which only leads here.

Spinning to the wall, I scan. There's got to be something. A way out. She didn't just disappear. Raj continues rambling on in the background as I press my fingers to the hard black stone. It's solid, like expected. I run my fingers over the whole thing, not sure what I'm looking for, when Raj's words finally break through.

"What are you doing?"

"There's something here," I say, unsure why I'm even telling her. She's been keeping her own agenda but it doesn't matter now. I've been led here for a reason. And whether Raj is here or not, I'm not letting this one go.

"What do you mean something's there? It's a wall."

"Yes," I exhale, the annoyance returning, "I know it's a wall."

Running my fingertips over the space again, I reach higher until feeling a slight separation. There's a space as thin as a hair and I follow it to either side with both hands, as far as I can reach. An outline! The line curves down, forming the shape of a door. It's here. I found it!

But how to open it?

Placing my palm flat against the outlined wall, I push back until it locks into place, automatically sliding to the right.

"What..." Raj steps up beside me, gawking, "...have you found?"

We both peer into the blackness. Suddenly, the opening in the wall starts to close again and I only have a minute to decide. It's now or never. I jump into the pitch-blackness and Raj flies in behind me, the door closing with finality.

We're alone.

"Fallon?" her panicked voice calls. "Where are you?"

"Right here," I give my eyes time to adjust. But they won't. Or can't. It's too dark in here, too black to see anything. How am I supposed to follow Pratt?

"Where are we?"

"I don't know..." I extend my arms, feeling the walls on either side of me. It's a tight squeeze, like the narrowed alleys of the Maze, but _narrower_ —if that's possible. I take a step, wishing my eyes would acclimate already.

"We should go back," her voice quakes behind me.

"No, we should go forward."

"What? _Why_? We don't know what's up there."

"It could be a way out," I suggest, another step forward, my fingers tracing the wall on both sides.

"A way out of what?"

"Here."

"But... but..." she reasons, her voice still quaky, "we don't even know where it goes. What if we can't find our way back? What if we get lost?"

"Raj," I say, more gently this time, "we have to _try_. This may be the only way out and if something happens, we'll need an escape. We'll need to know how to get away." My thoughts turn to Hinson. Where is she now? Alive, even? There was nothing but death in her eyes. "I wish we had some light."

"Oh!" she squeaks as a soft glow suddenly illuminates the tunnel. It's still black in the far distance but there's enough light to see in front of us, if only by a few feet. "We can use my Callix."

Raj holds out a strand dotted with red, pink and peach blossoms and I recognize it immediately as one of the tresses from the tree out by the ruins. She hands it to me and I bring it in close. Like little heartbeats, the blossoms pulsate light beneath thin veils of the red, peach and pink petals. Beautiful.

"You can use them as a light source," Raj explains, the shadows dancing around her face. "It's not their main function, but definitely a plus in our situation."

"Function?" I move forward, holding the strand in front of me like a lantern. She follows close behind, nearly on my feet.

"Well, they're Callix blossoms, said to withhold the eternal fire burning inside," her voice softens, saddening. "You give them to someone you love."

"Who told you this?"

"Sampson." She frowns, waiting for my response that says I should've known that. But it never comes. "Haven't you met Sampson yet?"

"No... " I laugh, "I haven't really met anyone."

Even though I'm still weary and her motives unclear, I'm glad Raj decided to come. I'm even gladder she had a Callix blossom on her, a surprisingly effective light source. It illuminates a few feet ahead and holding it out in front of me, we make our through the narrowed tunnel.

"Well you should really talk to him."

"Who?"

"Sampson. He's kind of like the mediator."

"For what?"

"I don't know," she huffs, " _everything_. When there's an issue. He tries to solve things first so they don't get Tetlak."

"Who's Tetlak?" The name rings a bell.

"The Dofinike from yesterday. The one who took Hinson."

I stop and turn toward her. " _That_ was Tetlak? The large one?"

"Yup. Terrifying, isn't he?"

I shrug, following the curve of the tunnel as we approach something ahead on the left. It climbs up the wall, to the top of the blackened passage where the Callix's light won't go. I stop and brush my fingers across the object's cool metallic texture. Like the Water Pole. Stepping back, I see it—a ladder embedded in the wood or dirt or whatever this is.

"Where do you think this leads?" Raj fingers the metal steps.

"My guess is the Water Pole, which means we're still inside the gate," I lower the Callix, extending it ahead of me again, "come on."

We resume our steady pace. I debate telling Raj about the ruins and their strange familiarity, but decide against it. I don't understand it myself. How could I expect her to? We walk in silence for a few minutes, a new thought popping in my head.

"Raj, how'd you get the Callix?"

"How'd I get the Callix?" she repeats, buying time to choose her answer. But she knows like I do, what I'm really asking.

"You've never been this way before, right?"

"Right..." she's hesitant to give answers.

"And I know you've never gone beyond the gate."

"No..."

"So you must've traded for it, right? Is it like the Gupple? Is it a token?"

"I..."

"You work for the Clans," I resolve, without waiting for her response, "don't you? You've been tailing me. To find out information?"

"I..."

"To trade for this?" I hold up the Callix.

No..." she whispers, "it was given to me... it was a present," she starts sniffling, her voice quaking in a way that brings shameful knots to my stomach. I turn around, just as a single bead escapes, running the course to her chin. "I know why you think that but it's not true," she takes a breath, wiping the lone tear and sniffling again. "I had a boyfriend. He got it for me." Another tear blooms and she swipes this one clean too.

"What happened?"

She keeps sniffling, cleaning her nose with a knuckle. After a moment, she mutters in a low voice. "They took him."

"He went out past the gate?"

She shakes her head when an echo sounds from the darkness. I throw Raj a stern look, indicating silence with a finger pressed to my lips. Someone's shouting, calling for another but they must be a ways up because the words blur together. I take Raj's hands in mine and pull her along as we make for a light jog, following the commotion.

It takes a few minutes for the sounds to turn to words, as a faint glow of light glimmers ahead. I throw Raj's Callix behind me as we slow. "Put this away. Hide it."

"But how will we see?"

"With their light," I whisper, "but we can't be seen. Not yet."

Raj does as I say, tucking the Callix back into her shirt. We continue following at a good distance, moving silently as the echoed words lead our way. Suddenly the brightness dims along with the blurred conversation surrounding it. They've stopped. They're leaving. The exit must be up ahead.

"What's happening?" Raj asks, going for her Callix.

"Wait," I indicate with my finger, listening. The words are definitely gone and there is no more light ahead. I inch my way closer, glancing over my shoulder at Raj. "Okay."

She pulls the Callix free.

About ten feet up lies a small stairwell carved into the ground or dirt or whatever we're in. Motioning for the Callix, she hands it to me and I hold up the pinkish light, examining the structure. I place one foot down, then the next. The steps feel sturdy enough so I climb, following the stairs until coming to a hard, curved wall with a round hook for a handle. I slide my fingers through, holding the Callix in the other hand.

"Wait!" Raj cries. "What if... what if..."

"It'll be fine," I promise, glancing to her. "But keep quiet and stick behind me. If I say run, turn back and bolt." I can see the fear building behind Raj's eyes. "It'll be fine, okay? I'm here too. If anything... I'll create a diversion."

Her mouth perks as she nods me on, pulling at her fingers again.

I push the handle and the wooden ceiling lifts, revealing the night sky over a misting jungle scene. We made it!

Inhaling the damp plant life, I do a quick scan. The dark trees sit undisturbed, mostly asleep, except for the lavender bulbs and crimson petals humming at their base. Vines swing from leaping insects which buzz from tree to tree. The wind ripples through the leaves and it's quiet again, but only until the sound of dripping dew smacks the compact dirt, the flowers and insects hissing along.

"Fallon?"

I climb free, the small opening carved from a massive tree trunk. Motioning Raj next to me, she emerges and we keep to a small crouch, scanning the area. We're close to them. The ruins. I can feel it like I did before, calling to me like last time. Like instinct. Like a tiny voice I couldn't hear until now.

"Where are we?" Raj asks.

"The jungle," I close my eyes, inhaling the damp air. The ruins are close—just up ahead. I set out on a light jog. "This way."

"Wait!" Raj follows and in minutes, we round the same cluster of trees and come upon them.

The ruins sink in like fire, sparking me alive again. I try to will their memory, their familiarity but nothing appears. No image projects itself and for a second, I think I'm making it all up. But I'm not. It's the feeling I get. The feeling I've been here before, when these broken walls were whole and housed families. A small village, maybe.

"What _is_ this place?" Raj passes the first broken wall, her fingers draping along the velvet ivy.

Crunch, crunch!

We both drop as the sound of low growls sail on the night breeze toward us. Raj's terrified eyes find mine, like a frightened animal aware it's about to become a meal. I gesture her toward me and she darts over as quickly as she can, her body shaking. I hold her face in both my hands, forcing her to steady. We'll be fine if she stays calm. If she listens to me and does as I say.

Motioning her to follow me, I crawl into a tiny space between two trees, camouflaged by a thicket of overgrown yellow-tipped leaves. We sit, hunched over and silent. Another round of growls grows louder as the hissing vowels pour forth. Raj tenses beside me. I put my hand on hers and squeeze. The sounds grow louder and she starts shaking again. I squeeze her hand tighter just as someone cups her mouth from behind. I go to strike its owner but my own mouth is silenced by a set of forceful fingers.

#  Chapter Eight: Camp

He pulls me back into him whispering. "Quiet."

I recognize the voice instantly. It makes sense for Reid to remain close to the tunnel. Camp where there's a guaranteed escape, a guaranteed exit for necessary retreat. But we can't retreat now. That's the problem. A _crackle-crackle_ , _crunch-crunch_ sweeps the jungle floor followed by grunting growls drifting toward us.

I see Raj across from me. A boy with dark, reddish brown hair, a nose full of orange freckles and serious, almost ugly eyes sits rigidly still, his hand grasping her mouth like a grenade. Pratt is next to them, throwing a curious look at Raj before tossing a somewhat softer, amused one at me.

So I made it.

Raj is about to scream until she does a quick survey of our company and her face relaxes. A knee in the same powder blue scrub barely pokes into view to my left, and then three hands—one belonging to an older white man and the other two, black, with long feminine fingers—come into view. The man lowers his hand in soft gestures, indicating silence. I can't see either of their faces. Reid keeps me motionless, his arm locked around my waist and his fingers digging molds into my cheek, clamping my jaw shut.

Crunch-crunch, crackle-crackle!

Following the footsteps comes a light skirting and scraping, a sweeping of leaves by something large and unresponsive. It sails through the fallen foliage like a ship on the ocean, parting the jungle floor with its unwelcome intrusion. I feel Reid shake his head. The boy across from us—the one holding Raj—acknowledges Reid's gesture and tightens his hand on her mouth. Her eyes dart around as she begins shaking like before.

The sounds get louder.

Raj's captor stiffens, his other arm locking her to him. She's shaking less but still can't stop completely. All crouched a few feet above the ground, we're below knee level and peering through the patch of openings ahead. With the shield of leaves, we view the open ruins like a stage in the distance.

They're here.

Three Dofinikes in true form. Tetlak, I recognize immediately. He reigns above the other two as they respond to one another in playful tones. They offer quick exchanges, their whiskers flapping with exaggeration before Tetlak turns and grunts, steam pouring through his own. The guards still at once and Tetlak turns, continuing over sunken cobblestones as he moves through the ruins. The two follow without complaint, each carrying the pinched end of a net tied over their shoulders. The net extends down, strapped around a large, motionless mass, dragging along the jungle floor behind them.

A foot appears first.

Hung up in the right pinch of the net, the foot is attached to a limp, slightly blue leg and then, to the body of a girl. She's naked, discolored with a metallic tint except for her stomach, where a crimson canal sweeps below the navel, gutting her from hip to hip.

I suppress the rise of bile in my throat, praying Raj doesn't open her eyes. But it's too late. She's shaking again, convulsing almost, as I feel my own restraints tighten. To the left, the older man's hand signals for quiet and once Raj notices this—as if, by some unknown, magical force—she ceases squirming and obeys. Closing her eyes, her body stills to the likeness of a statue. Her brows soften, relaxing as she drifts away somewhere peaceful, as if hypnotized.

The dead girl's body drags on.

Purple nipples, a bluish neck and then the tip of the chin appear. Her head is rolled toward us and for a fleeting minute, I want to shut my eyes and join Raj in her vacation. But I don't. The face passes and I see what I already knew. The same frantic eyes from the other day, the ones I couldn't tear myself from. Glazed over. Empty.

Gone.

All that fear, like her life, has been extracted from this empty corpse, so different from the terrorized life inhabiting it before. Her hair sweeps past. Golden, out in the day, but here it lays gray and soiled, matted with a nest of tiny rocks and broken leaf fragments collected in its sweep of the jungle floor.

The bile tries to ambush my throat but I suppress it again, watching the last few strands drag to the end of the ivy shield and out of view. The leaves continue to scrape and crunch but grow dimmer with the distance and after a moment, disappear into the ruins completely.

My eyes flash to Raj's captor. He's panicked and glancing from Reid to Pratt to the two on my left. After a moment, he offers just the slightest of headshakes. Readjusting his lock on Raj, he strengthens his hand on her mouth and looks to Reid for help.

I can feel his head move. Mostly up and down but a quick jerk creeps in every few seconds. I give up reading the other boy's face—he's mostly receiving orders, not giving them—and find Raj's, willing her to open her eyes. I need my little buddy. I need her here with me, conscious, able to remember and confirm everything that happens here tonight. And then by coincidence—or is it magic, again?—her eyes flutter open, finding mine immediately. As I attempt to communicate, a soothing voice breaks the rigid night air with a gentle whisper.

"I think it's best we pop in for a quick rest."

"Eyes?" Reid asks.

"Open," the man replies, as it if were a silly question to want answered.

"But how can we trust them?" Raj's captor hisses. He scans us both, unconvinced. "They might be spies."

"Don't be impolite, Clark," the man corrects him. "You were them once."

"Besides," an unfamiliar female voice interjects, "they're not spies... just nosy. We'll take them back for a quick chat and be done. No harm."

"Always harm," Clark grumbles, disappointed at his defeat.

I'm lifted, Reid's arm locked tightly across my stomach, cradling my ribs like a safety strap. He's _strong_ , deceptively so. Raj is on her feet across from me, just behind Pratt. We're turned and I finally catch a glimpse of our other two guests before they slink through the trees ahead.

The woman—in her late thirties—offers us a quick, slightly uninterested glance but the man takes a minute to consider us both. He smiles at Raj, greeting an acquaintance and then stops, taking an interest in me. His smile fades, if only slightly, but is replaced with curiosity. Intrigue. A sense of possibility perhaps? Before I'm able to fully accept the compliment, he dashes into the trees, the woman right behind him. Clark and Raj dart off after them as I feel my own body forced forward.

Reid's jaw brushes my brow. "It's not far."

He leads me a few yards to a small clearing where another large tree sits surrounded in a garden of pink and blue tear-dropped flowers. The tree must be old, her belly spilling forward and her rich, plentiful branches extending to her sister trees around her.

Pratt's gone, along with the man and woman. Clark's next, lowering Raj into a similar hidden opening at the base of the trunk. He scrambles in behind her as Reid and I approach. I jump down, Reid right behind me, snapping the trunk firmly into place once he's inside.

And then it's dark.

I can just make out the shape of the boy ahead, Raj in front of him, feeling her way through the hollow, wooden tunnel. A dim light glows down a ways. Reid goes to secure me again, instinct kicking in, but at the last second his hands drop, flattening to his side.

"Quickly," the man ushers.

We move to a run, called by the promise of light and slipping through another narrow opening, one by one, we each emerge into a wooden hovel, ten times the size of my bunker. It's roomy and welcoming with benches lining the space, carved directly from the burrow's wooden walls.

The woman selects a seat, elbows on knees and her head dipping below her shoulders. Clark sits across from her and Pratt, just down from him. Raj stands, shaking in the center, her eyes lost on an image as Reid sweeps by, hooking toward the right. The man closes the door behind him and immediately, specifically turns to me.

"You took the tunnel," he states. "From where?"

"The Auditorium," I want to chance a glance at Pratt but decide against it. "We found the door in the wall."

"Did anyone see you?"

"No."

"And did you go anywhere else?" he approaches with a step. "Do anything else?"

"We were by the ruins. Not more than a few seconds."

"And you're sure no one saw you?" the woman asks. "You didn't tell anyone where you were going. You didn't tell them about the tunnel?"

"We didn't know about it. We just found it tonight."

"You followed us," Reid folds his arms, glancing at Pratt. "Didn't you?"

"Yes," I admit, turning back to the older man, "I followed you. But I was hoping it would lead to the ruins and it did—that's all."

"Why do you want to get there so bad?" Reid narrows his eyes.

I keep my focus on the older man. Somehow, I know he's the one to hear this. "It feels familiar."

"What?" Clark laughs, filling the wooden room with his echo. "Did you say _familiar_?"

I wait for the others to start chuckling but nobody does. If anything, I've grabbed their attention. Raj, Pratt and the woman perk up, interested in the response. The man, swiftly gliding toward me asks with genuine curiosity, "What exactly is familiar?"

_Everything_.

I want to tell him I can anticipate the direction of cobblestones in the grass; that I can predict their hidden, meandering paths, if prediction is even the right word. It's not really predicting when you know something. But how to explain this? How to explain that the flow of each wall is as familiar as the contours of my own body—an instrument, during even the darkest and cloudiest hours, I will always, instinctively recognize. They'd think I was a freak if I said that.

"It just feels that way."

"Fallon, did you say your name was?" the man's voice is calmer, less distraught.

"I didn't... but yes."

"I did wish to meet you under more pleasant circumstances. Tonight, unfortunately," he glances to the others, "will have to do. I'm Sampson."

He slips his hand over mine as I try to suppress the squeeze of his calloused palms and fingertips. He's got kind eyes. I notice that right away. Light blue, like a robin's egg. I can't quite tell his age. He seems too young for his body so maybe that's why his hair hasn't figured out if it wants to be white or gray yet. He's tall like Reid, maybe taller and, taking a step back, reveals the rest of the group before me.

"This is Vix, Clark, Pratt and Reid. And of course, you know Raj."

"And how do you know me?"

"Come now, Fallon," he offers a playful grin, "you must know by now that there are no secrets on Harrizel."

"Ain't that the truth," Clark mumbles to himself in the corner.

"But truth be told," Sampson goes on, "I was alerted to your arrival."

"By Raj, no doubt..." Clark mumbles again.

"What's that supposed to mean?" she explodes with four very angry steps.

"Can we have quiet?" Vix asks, " _Please_. Tonight," she's talking to me now, "you said tonight was the first time you used the tunnel?"

I nod.

"So you've never been here before? You've never seen anything like that?"

"No," I shake my head, turning back to Sampson. "No, what _was_ that?"

"Again," he chuckles to himself with anything but humor, "what a night to make friends. I'm sorry to inform you, Fallon," he looks up at me with saddened, apologetic eyes, "but your fantasy here on Harrizel might not be all you'd hoped. But then," he considers me more thoroughly, "you already suspected."

"Of course she did," Reid passes as he saunters about the room, arms folded across his chest.

" _What_ fantasy? Just tell me— _what_ is going on?"

"I'm further sorry to say..." Sampson exhales, pacing again, "that we don't have many answers for you."

"So you guys don't know either."

"We're working on it," Clark gripes, "but if we didn't have to worry about _you_ two," he makes a face at Raj, "we could've followed them and found out."

"Sorry for the inconvenience," I glance from him to Sampson, a bit of pleading in my eyes. "But really? Nothing?"

"Not _nothing_ ," Reid shifts closer. He takes a breath, his heavy brown eyes flickering between mine, registering their level of trust. My heart stops for a second, caught in their power. "We have someone on the inside."

" _Reid_ ," Vix projects.

Sampson draws a finger in the air, motioning for silence. Reid continues, encouraged by the support. "Our information is extremely limited. Inexistent, almost.... but," he glances from Sampson to Clark, Vix and Pratt and finally back to me, "they're planning something. Something _big_."

"Duh."

"I'm serious."

"So am I."

"Look—they're doing something. Beshib used to make daily Lectures. Now they're weekly. He's leaving the Castle all the time and the guards are constantly upstairs with the scientists. And then incidents like Hinson the other day," and then, as if remembering suddenly, "and _tonight_."

The image of her cold, blue body flashes, the familiar bile threatening to rise with the memory of those dead eyes staring off into nothing.

"Well what can we do?" I glance around the room, waiting to hear their plan, their solution to all this. But I see only flat faces and sideways glances, except for Reid, who's caught me straight in the eye. But there's nothing there, only questions. Unable to suppress a scoff, I try, "There's got to be something, right?"

"Keep putting the clues together," he shrugs, "like we've been."

"That's it?"

"You think you got something better?" Clark flies to his feet. "We've been here a _lot_ longer and..."

"...Maybe now you'll start getting some results, I agree."

"What's that supposed to mean?"

"I think you know exactly what it means. Sampson," I turn to him as Clark storms over in a fit, murderous fists clenched at his thighs. Reid jets forward but Sampson flies between us the next second, arms extending to keep us apart.

"We need everyone's help," he looks between us, "the only way we'll discover the truth is to _trust_ each other and to work together—collaboratively."

I see what Raj means about him being a mediator. He looks at Clark as if to say, _listen to me or you're out_ and with a loud sigh, Clark obeys, dramatically spinning and planting himself on the carved wooden bench again. He flings his arms within each other and slouches to a pout.

Sampson turns to me. "Fallon, we would appreciate any assistance you might offer. Now tell me, how did you find your way exactly? You were in darkness, yes?"

I motion to Raj. "She has a Callix."

Sampson's blue eyes light up at the word, a stirring growing within. "I see."

"We also followed yours," I motion to the blossom lying across Pratt's lap. She's been silent this whole time and I'd almost forgotten she was here. "And you?" I ask, returning my focus to Sampson. "How'd you know this was here? Or how to _get_ here?"

Everyone looks to each other. Who's going to be the one to inform me? And inform me of what, exactly?

"You can't tell anyone. I'm serious," Reid inches closer and for a fleeting moment, my heart stops. The fiery roots in my abdomen enflame again, scorching my organs with a raw, unfamiliar ache. "This is our only advantage. If it gets out, we'll have nothing."

"But..." I blink, still trying to understand, "why go back at all? Why not just stay out here?"

"We can't," Sampson shakes his head, "we have friends inside, friends we want to help, friends we need to take care of. Otherwise you're right. We would have escaped long ago."

Suddenly I understand Reid's short tone with me earlier. It sparks a seed of guilt. "Does anyone else know?"

"No one. It's just us."

"And about tonight, with Hinson?"

" _That_..." Clark explains, a pompous tone to his voice,"...is something _entirely_ different. Maybe they don't know what's happening but people know about the Snatchings."

"You mean when the Dofinikes take you for leaving through the gate?"

"That's one way. Then you've got the Kings to worry about—they snatch you up and you're gone for good. Multiple ways to disappear here on Harrizel..." he sighs, "anyway, we'll all probably be ratted on by dawn knowing what _she_ is." He sneers at Raj, new detest growing in his dull brown eyes.

"Manners, Clark," Sampson corrects.

"What?" he jumps from the wall again. "It's the truth!"

Reid's words come flying back for the second time tonight, _Raj's tailing her._ What does that mean? If she's not working with a Scout and that Callix was a gift from her boyfriend like she said, then what? What _is_ she?

"I..." Raj starts, all eyes on her.

"Tell her," Reid orders, in a casual way that seems natural to him.

It takes Raj a moment to gather her words. After one minute that felt like ten, she exhales softly, her eyes on her blue slippers which pinch together at the toes. She speaks with quiet, nearly inaudible words, so soft they could break at the weight. "You were my first assignment."

"What?"

"She's a _Kiss_ ," Reid flinches at the word, circling Raj whose head hangs between her shoulders, "not part of either Clan, they're their _own_ system."

"To do what?"

"Gather important information."

"How is that different from working with a Scout?"

"For one thing, it takes the danger out," Reid slows, circling, locking eyes with me, "it's dangerous to be a Client. People see you talking to the Scouts, they know you're working for the Clans... know you might be willing to sell them out. Sell out enough people," he shrugs slightly, "not looking so good."

"And the Kisses?"

"Work directly _with_ the Clans," Clark jumps in, his glaring eyes still set on Raj. "They're anonymous, unlike the Scouts. Need to find out something _really_ important? No need to send a Scout and rely on a poor Client when someone cuts through all that."

"So..." I think of the word best to describe it, "the elite?"

" _Exactly_ ," Clark gripes. "And the Clans aren't going to ship off their gold in any old plastic container. They want that shit air tight and locked. Wouldn't want to 'chance the mission.'"

Reid shoots him a look.

"So the Kisses risk nothing?" I ask.

" _Pride_ ," Clark mumbles somewhere in the background.

"And knowledge," Reid is circling Raj again. "See, Clients aren't sure who they're buying from—the Rogues or the Kings, it makes no difference—just that they get the token they want. A Kiss _knows_ where her payments are coming from," he slows, centering in on Raj's face. He's trying to get her to look him in the eye but her head remains down, her sights plastered below. "And I _know_ the Rogues haven't bothered with any of you for a while. Which only means..."

"I'm a Kiss," Raj cries, her eyes tearing at the confession, "but I don't know _anything_ about the Snatchings—I swear!"

"Sure," Clark nods along, "and I'm here on vacation."

"What's in it for you?" Reid stops, studying her face. He's trying to read it, whatever it is lurking behind those glassy eyes, whatever is making the fear tick. He only needs to hear her say it.

"Immunity," it comes out a whisper.

"From?"

" _Everything,_ " she gazes up at him, her nose swelling red, "and everyone."

"Don't be so sure."

"But... but..."

"They're using you like they do everyone," Reid meanders back to my side, "once you're no longer of value..."

"So I _have_ to stay valuable," she steps toward us, tears streaming freely now, "they took him, they took Marshall. I can't go like him..."

So much has been said, so much revealed in only the last few minutes. I want to review it all immediately, running over the last exchanges to make sure nothing's slipped by. To make sure I haven't missed anything. But I can do all of that tomorrow, play rewind when there's time to do it, time to dive back into this scene and replay it until I know each question and comment by heart. But now, before all that, I need one thing answered.

"Were you setting me up to be snatched?"

She lifts her face, wiping her wet nose and shaking her head. "No."

A long moment passes before anyone speaks again. It's Reid and he's changed his tone. It's inquisitive now, less accusing. "What was your assignment?"

Raj inhales deeply, stifling her cry, which tries to burst up in little bubbled whimpers, "I'm-I'm to find out whatever I can about Fallon and report back to Perry. As a training exercise... t-to make sure I can handle it. They never asked for anything specific, just that they know anything of _importance_."

"And?" Reid urges. "Anything else?"

Holding her breath briefly, Raj goes on. "I... Perry told me I'm now supposed to push Walker on her. But I don't know why! That's all I know—I _promise_!"

Reid's face hardens at the comment, the room silencing as Raj's last word dies out. With his chin in his hand, he nods, as if reassuring himself of a difficult decision. "Alright, here's what's happening. You're working for me now."

"What?" her head snaps up.

"You'll act like you're still working for Perry..." he circles again, stroking his chin and working out the plan as he goes along, "...tell her all the little gossip she wants to hear. Make up stuff—nothing important," he points, Raj tensing at the abrupt command. Slowly, he resumes his circling, "But whatever gets her off your back. Make her know you're working for her... but work for me instead."

"How?"

"You'll run assignments."

Raj sniffles slightly, "Like a Scout?"

"Mostly. Except you'll be working for me, not the Rogues."

"I thought you..." I start and Reid looks at me in that way he does, choking up the words that were so easy to say a moment ago. I've got his attention and suddenly, I'm unsure I want it.

"Were a Rogue? No," he shakes his head with a wide, humorless grin, "not anymore. Alright," he rubs his hands together, glancing from Pratt, to Vix, Clark, Sampson and then Raj. He wants to change the subject, and quick. "I think it's time."

"For?" Clark gripes from his corner.

"The stowaways to think on all they've heard... back at the Castle," Reid casts a contemplative frown over me. Without breaking our stare, he speaks over his shoulder. "Pratt, go with them."

"I'm not going anywhere. I've finally made it out here," I gesture to the exit, "and you want me to go back? After everything you've just told me?"

"What do you expect to do?" Reid motions to the same exit, "live in the jungle?"

"Yeah—if that's what it takes."

"So you're going to leave everyone?" Reid raises a brow. "Just desert them back there?"

He's waiting for me to argue but I don't know what to say to that. Maybe he's right. It'd be selfish to save ourselves when there's a whole Castle of innocent people. It wouldn't be right to abandon them, not to the unclear fate the Dofinikes have in store for us.

Nodding, I finally acquiesce. "I can figure out my way back."

"Doubtful. Pratt," he motions to Raj and I. She jumps to her feet, hanging between us and the little wooden door behind her.

"It's incredible, really," Sampson redirects my attention with his smooth, calming voice, "that you were able to navigate your way down here. With all the tunnels..."

"How many are there?"

"Oh..." he smiles rather mischievously, "there are _several_."

"Like this one?" Raj glances about the wooden room. She's stopped crying but peers around with swollen red glass spheres.

Sampson nods, "So it's probably best to heed Reid's suggestion and let Pratt assist you. Can get rather... confusing down here."

I don't want to give in—how hard can it be to find my way back?—but with Sampson's urging and Reid's unyielding stare, there's nothing to be done. "Fine."

"Remember," he approaches, my chest drumming at his proximity, "not a word. Camp is our only advantage. If it gets out, we'll have nothing. And I mean _nothing_. Not even food." He's looking for some sort of response, some sort of confirmation to know that this secret will still be safe tomorrow.

"Not a word," I agree.

He nods, backing up, but before Pratt's able to dart into the tunnel outside, Reid points at Raj. "And this thing with Walker stops now."

She nods fervently, confirming his meaning completely. She casts a second's glance my way before scrambling behind Pratt, who is already climbing out the door. I'm just behind them, casting one last look at the four but they're already engaged in their own discussion.

I emerge into the black tunnel after the girls, Pratt leading us away as she holds her own Callix ahead of her. We walk in silence for a bit, Pratt repeatedly glancing at Raj, who keeps up only enough to not get left behind. A million questions buzz in my head, a million explanations needing to come out. But I ask none of them, carrying on in silence until Raj's voice breaks the silence.

"I'm so sorry, Fallon."

I don't respond at first, listening instead to the sound of my slippers pounding the compact dirt. What am I supposed to say—it's all right? Has she been reporting on me since the first day? And for what exactly? That's still unclear. Without a response, she goes on.

"I didn't mean for this to happen."

"Sure you did. Otherwise you wouldn't have accepted." The words sting as I say them but with everything that's happened tonight, it's best that that's all she's getting from me.

"But it didn't start out like this. I just wanted..." she struggles, looking for an explanation I could understand, "...to be _in_ it rather than watch helplessly from the side. Wondering if it'd be _me_ they took next..."

"Because of Marshall?" Pratt chimes in, veering us left.

Raj only nods. She might not owe Pratt anything but I decide it's well within my right, so I ask. "Who's Marshall?"

"He..." she takes a moment, "...he was the one who gave me the Callix. He..."

A long silent minute passes before Pratt asks, "When did you find out?"

"Right after they took him. We were supposed to meet at Leisure Time but he never showed. I saw him talking with a Scout earlier—he'd done it a hundred times before—but..."

"Do you know which Scout?" I'm not sure why but I want to know.

"One of the Kings. I don't know who," she shakes her head, "I would've suggested one of Rox's... but I didn't know much back then."

"He would've helped you," Pratt nods along, "any of the Rogues would've."

"But again, what did I know? What do _any_ of us know? It's so hush, hush. You don't know if you're working for the good guys or the bad."

"So what happened?" I ask.

"I guess he ran too many errands for them. He first started bringing me Gupples. Then Rublies and then other kinds of food. Fresh, bizarre kinds," she stops to think about it, "and then the Callix... but too many people caught on and he became invaluable. They wouldn't trust him and then, he already knew too much."

"Did he ever tell you what he was doing?" I ask.

"No, that was the one rule. _Never_ ask. Sure I noticed the disappearances but how could I bring it up when he's bringing me Gupples every day?" She sniffles, "It's too late now."

"And you figured the Kisses could help you?"

"I figured it was a shield. They'd get the assignments and then Perry would just tell me what to do. I'd get food regularly, the kind of food I'd grown used to, and I wouldn't be on the outside anymore."

"And me..."

"You were my shot. The newest arrival I could practice on. If you were doing anything—meeting with a Scout, with anyone important—I had to let them know first. If I didn't and they found out through somebody else, I'd be out."

"So the Clans never sent you?"

"No, Perry did. As a trial," she sniffles again, "I'm _so_ sorry, Fallon."

Again, what's there to say? There's still so much I want to know. So much to be answered. I offer her a slight shrug.

"Well, you're working for Reid now," I offer as the shining light to a storm I still don't fully understand. But then I turn to Pratt with a suddenly burning question. "Why isn't he with the Rogues anymore?"

" _His_ choice. Tucker won't stop trying to get him back in but..." and at this she tosses a glance in Raj's direction, who mirrors the same uneasy frown, before returning it to me, "...something happened. A long story. I'll tell you about it sometime."

I take it as the final word on the matter and we move along in silence again. A few minutes pass before Raj's fragile voice breaks through again, "So, what's going to happen now?"

"With what?"

"All this. What the Dofinikes are planning."

"Is there much we _can_ do?" I trudge on, deeper into the tunnel's black mouth, "except push when they give us an inch."

"How?" Raj and Pratt both ask at once.

When I figure it out, I'll let them know.

#  Chapter Nine: Challenge

"A few Gupples, some Marowines," Pratt places an odd assortment of fruit on my food dispenser, returning to hand me a strand of tiny red beads, "and this one's a Rublie. Reid thought you might like it. Here."

Every night, Pratt has been stopping by long after Leisure Time and dropping off a few pieces of food. She never stays more than a couple minutes, just long enough to deliver the gatherings for the night and comment on at least one menu choice, always careful to make note that _Reid_ selected it or _Reid_ found it or _Reid_ thought I might like it, as if I might forget who he was.

"Go on, try it," she insists, watching as I bring the food to my nose to investigate. "They're high on demand in the Market."

Biting into the red bead, the flavor sings on my tongue. Mostly sweet but a pinch of tartness makes it a delectable combination and just the right amount in that one serving. This is... _delicious_.

"Wonderful," I say before diving into the next bead, mentally declaring this my new favorite food.

"I know..." Pratt grins coyly. "That's why Reid wanted you to have it."

Warmth spreads through me, igniting the small fireball inside. "Tell him...uh... thank you, for me. Will you?"

"Definitely!" she jumps for the door, excited to deliver the message when I call her name. "Yeah?"

"Um..." I gulp, trying to remain as impassive as possible. But every day he stays away, making it hard to thank him myself. "I've tried talking to him, you know, at like, Leisure Time and he never..."

"He's busy," Pratt cuts me off, a flicker of hesitation crossing her face. And then, as if knowing I expect a bit more of a reason, "There've been more Snatchings lately. Rogues need his help stopping them."

"Tell me about them," I request, sitting on my bed and tucking my arms around my knees, " _please_."

"Which?"

"Either. Both," I shrug, hoping she'll just tell me everything she knows.

"Well, can't say much about the Rogues—Reid'll kill me. But the _Snatchings_..."

"Yeah?"

She looks to me, her heavy eyes filled with fear. "They're happening more than you think."

"When?"

" _All_ the time," she exhales, the weight of her words in her tone, "sometimes at Rebuilding, but mostly during Leisure Time. Sometimes the common hours."

"How?" I tuck my knees closer to my chest.

"Clients mostly. Every once in a while a Kiss," she shrugs, "no one's really sure. We find out after they go missing."

"So, just so I understand... the Dofinikes take anyone who tries to escape?"

Pratt nods.

"And the Kings also 'Snatch' people?"

Again, Pratt nods.

"Why?"

"Who knows? But they're doing it for the Dofinikes—I can tell you that much. And the Rogues are trying to stop it..." Pratt's face turns down, a solemn expression suggesting personal involvement. She needs a new topic.

"And you guys gather every night?" I ask, even though she's told me this countless times.

"Yup."

"And you're sure he won't let me come with you? To help bring food back? It'll be like I'm paying off my own."

"No. He says he doesn't want you to come," she cringes at the sound of her words, spinning for the door. "Anyway, I got to go. I'll tell him you say thanks."

Once she's gone, I glance at the collection of fruit on the dispenser. I've been well-fed for a couple of days but I still don't understand. If I'm forbidden to gather with them at night, why even bother supplying me at all? Is it to buy my silence or to keep me from going out there alone?

And why has Reid been avoiding me, yet sends Pratt to bring me mention of his name every night? Or is that just _her_ doing? There are too many things to sort out, but with the pace this is going, I'll never know. Launching myself back onto the pile of rags, I give way, losing myself to the slumber that my ticking brain so desperately needs.

***

Got to keep busy.

Keep busy or Tetlak will drift by.

He's been known to do that. Stalk those who seem less than enthused at a day of Rebuilding. Take a break for more than ten minutes and he's in your face, grunting and signaling to the job. He won't speak English, although I'm told to believe he does, but instead, gestures to the trenches, Gollop or Transport with his wooden staff.

He won't physically force you, but looming over eight feet, with that weapon in hand and, to be honest, that crazed look in his eye—like he's looking for an excuse to do it—no one wants to tempt him. You can see it. The way he challenges you. He wants to do more than intimidate. He wants to make an example of someone. He's _aching_ for it. He just needs that one strike of rebellion. And no one wants to be it.

It's a good day though. Tetlak's not really patrolling my end of the trench so I relax a little on the digging. I toss the Senz into the bucket and climb out, my shoulders loosening from their monotonous overuse. With a studying scan, I understand why everyone here is in the shape they're in. All tight, muscular bodies. But with the way the nights heat up, you'd think there'd be a dozen pregnant bellies.

But I haven't seen a single one.

If the Dofinikes are so eager for us to reproduce , where are all the pregnancies? And what about the babies? And the toddlers and kids? Why doesn't—

Something flutters past.

Black wings and flapping furiously, it's gone. It was here but then disappeared, appearing solely to vanish a moment later. It was just a bug, most likely. Another strange creature of Harrizel wildlife venturing beyond the lush, damp jungle.

That's all.

Heading for the Water Pole, I pass the Gollops on my right. Reid's busy lifting and lowering the giant silver dome, Blondie and his two friends manning the other three corners of the Gollop with him. Blondie gestures to his partner. The two focus back on Reid, waiting for an answer but he seems lost in thought. Suddenly Blondie glances my way— _directly_ my way—and pauses.

My heart skips a beat.

He cracks an amused smile and continues talking. A second later, Reid looks up, his eyes flying to mine. It's the first time he's actually acknowledged me since the other night and the stare sets me ablaze.

"Excuse me," Erglioff's thunderous voice booms overhead. The Gollops stop vibrating and the clup-clup of the digging halts as we all look up, toward the black stone walls of the Castle, where the voice projects. "I'm sure there's a more civilized way to do this but as the news is already circulating, I believe you're owed the truth. For over a week, we worked diligently, doing all we could to save her but... sadly, it was not enough. I'm sorry to inform you that one of your own—Hinson—has passed on."

Whispers erupt all around, quick words exchanged in low tones.

"An unfortunate discovery in what had started as mere curiosity and a serious case of poor judgment," Ergiloff continues, "we thought we could help, if not save her, but in the end, the toxic berry juice stopped her heart and there was nothing to be done." His voice grows stronger now, with a tinge of threat. "Do _not_ venture away. It is dangerous outside this gate, and in the jungle, it is _deadly_. Stay at the Castle—you're safe here with us. And remember what's most important for the human race."

We all watch, standing silent and still, waiting for whatever is supposed to happen next. This is the first time they've admitted to any sort of human casualty, at least since I've been here. People go missing all the time and there's no mention of that. Still, it's the first time any attention has been brought to losing one of our own. How are we to respond as a species trying to rebuild itself?

Ergiloff answers with a simple reminder. "You may carry on with the Rebuilding."

Is that it, then? With Tetlak scanning the lines for rebellion, I continue forward, hating myself for being so willingly obedient. First it's Hinson, but who will be next? Raj? Pratt? How many more will come running out of the Castle, screaming for help? I've already decided not to abandon them. I made it to the jungle and returned. And now— _right_ now—I feel like pushing back. This is their inch, their way of testing us and up until now, no one's countered. No one's pushed back.

Someone's got to be the first.

I remind myself that I'm not doing anything wrong. It's logical. I just want to grieve a friend's death in peace. Surely that's a cross-cultural thing—can they stop me for it? With my heart pounding, I reset my course and head for the Castle.

People notice immediately. They stop working and watch as I head for the Castle, out and in the obvious open. I hear a shift of movement behind me as a chorus of whispers erupts. I'm the first to leave the digging lines without being dismissed. It's only a matter of seconds before Tetlak launches himself at me, waving his staff like a caveman and gesturing me back to my place. But what will he do if I don't go? They just announced the death of the member of a dying species. Is he bold enough to kill another? I don't have time to wonder.

A giant force flashes ahead. It knocks me off balance for only a minute but I steady myself, registering what I expected. Tetlak, confusion and disbelief bubbling in his yellow reptilian eyes, points his staff in the usual direction of the trenches.

Here's where it gets tricky.

Normally, when Tetlak finally acknowledges you, he'll gesture toward the lines, expecting his presence to be the final warning and at this point, everyone submits and returns. No one has ever attempted to reason or argue or refuse—no one has even tried. But this is the first time they've admitted a human death.

He continues motioning toward the lines as I follow his stare, glancing over my shoulder at the awed eyes of the flabbergasted behind me. They all want to know the same thing—will I be the first to try something new? Or will I just be another curious soul, looking to test my own limits and fears? Tetlak snarls in a warning pitch and I look back, his yellow eyes narrowing to slits as steam pours through his whiskers.

"I'm going to collect some of Hinson's things," I keep my feet planted. "I want to give her a burial."

Tetlak studies me, contemplating his next move. When he finally responds, I can make out only one word. "No."

"We were close—I'd like to gather some of her things."

Tetlak leans in, but with the digging stopped, the Gollop silenced and not a person daring to breathe—let alone, speak—whatever Tetlak says will be carried along the wind, new gossip to spread with Hinson's death. He lowers his head to mine and I fumble back at the movement, stepping on someone's foot. Reid's behind me, glaring up at the towering Dofinike.

Where'd he come from?

"Not this one."

"Explain it to her then," Tetlak warns, looking to me with those reptilian eyes. "Get back to work."

Sandwiched between the two demanding forces, I'm not sure what's happening. But Reid slips his hand in mine, pulling me back before I can say anything else. "We have to go."

I don't want to leave. I want to stay, _fight_ if I have to, but something in his words begs me to trust him. We need to go right now. Or else. We retreat slowly, as if moving too quickly might ignite some explosion, and then, after much distance, turn completely around and head for the trenches. Reid leads me like a child as I try to review the last few moments in my head. Have I failed? Or just lived to see another day? Whatever it is, it's not how I planned it and for some reason, I feel as if I've let everyone down.

Trying to encourage the fledgling guilt rising from the pit of my stomach, I'm distracted by the slightest flicker of Reid's fingers against mine. Not even a flicker, really. More of a slight brush. It only lasts a second before his hand falls numb again, dragging mine like a handle.

When I expect us to part—him heading back to the Gollops and me to the trenches—he surprises me by leading us to the trough's right flank, back to where I'd been working. He descends the ladder first and heads for the exact spot I'd been. The guys working there abandon it upon seeing Reid, but he doesn't notice. He simply selects the Senz from the half filled bucket and begins to dig. I assume the station next to him, mirroring his action.

"You really must be suicidal," he whispers, focused on the wall.

"I had to _try_."

"Glad you got it out of your system?"

"It's not out of my system."

"Man," he shakes his head, half laughing, "you have no idea how close you just came to being dead. That's twice now I've saved your ass."

"Twice? When was the first time?"

He leans in, lowering his words. "Uh—does the other night ring a bell?"

I think of us out in the jungle, of him securing me as Tetlak and the others dragged Hinson past. Raj and I were already hidden, but if he wants to take credit for that too, _whatever_.

"So why don't you stop then?"

"It'd be easy," he inches closer, tossing gibb into the bucket between us, "if you didn't act so rashly."

"Hey!" I turn to him, "I came back and I didn't have to! I'm not going to sit by and let—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." Reid lowers his hands, motioning for silence. He glances around before focusing on me again, "just saying... think before you make these decisions. That's all."

"I _was_ thinking. I was thinking I don't plan on staying here forever. And I'm not waiting for someone else when I can do it just as easy. I'm not thinking rashly. I'm thinking _strategically_. Long term," I shift between his eyes, "I'm thinking revolt."

His mouth perks into an adorable grin that sets an unexpected fire inside me. His expression blossoms into a full-blown smile and I have to force myself to look away. He faces the wall too and we both resume digging. A long, silent minute passes.

"So..." he clears his throat, "what do you think about the Rublies?"

The question catches me so off guard that I falter. "I—yes they're..." I gulp, trying to calm myself, "the Rublies are delicious. Thank you for all the food by the way."

He nods, still focused on the wall.

"But you really don't have to."

"Sure I do," he sneaks a peek at me with another melting grin. "What kind of bastard would I be if I didn't keep you fed?"

Before I'm able to respond, a young boy—the same one constantly keeping at Reid's heel—saunters up, his wavy black locks shaking as he walks. He joins Reid's other side and scratches his long, sharp nose with the edge of his Senz.

Reid glances over, slowing at the sight of his new neighbor. If he's surprised, he doesn't show it, but simply watches as the boy blinks three times, pauses, and blinks twice more. Reid nods and the boy retreats. Before he goes, he casts me an acute glance. Just long enough to get the information he needs. He's gone as quickly as he arrived and Reid's turning back to me with a bit of a frown, trying to decide his next move.

"Look," he removes his Senz and tosses them in the bucket, "try not to get yourself killed, alright? Strategizing is one thing but challenging Tetlak," he backs up with a head shake, "instant death." His eyes scan me one last time as he heads for the ladder. "See you."

***

It's Lecture Time again.

Donned in the same red robe with black lining, Beshib is going through the same routine as last time, describing how we killed ourselves and sacrificed everything to feed our greed. Tonight, however, Beshib finishes his encouraging speech with a bit more news.

"Lastly," he concludes, "it's come to my attention that the humans have contracted a new disease in the colony," he emphasizes his accusation toward us. "In fact, I heard of one particular passing—most terrible, indeed," he nods to himself, his hands at his back. "News of her treachery did make its way across my path. Not treachery in the _worst_ way, you understand," he continues turning about the trunk, his crimson robe flapping with each black booted step, "but treachery, regardless. With warnings, with well-intentioned advice to not go out, _not_ to encounter potentially lethal wildlife, she couldn't be convinced and found herself in this manner." He stops, scanning us. "Do you see, now? Disobeying our orders—which are put in place for _your_ good, _your_ safety—will only bring harm. We're doing our best to remedy this situation but we can only work so fast. In the meantime, you'll find a pill in your left sleeve pocket."

Everyone in the room checks their arm at the same time.

Running my fingers over the scratchy blue material, I feel a tiny bump, like a rock in the padding. Pulling back a cleverly hidden flap, I reach in, rolling out the small lavender pill as I hold it between my finger and thumb.

"A tablet," Beshib goes on, waiting for each of us to find it. "It will not completely cure you of the berry juice ailments but it will help prevent it from being passed _to_ you." He waits a moment before advising with a hint of instruction. "You may take it now."

I can't believe how willing everyone is. Without a second's hesitation, people slip the pill in their mouth like ordered. Grasping it between my fingers, I bring my hand to my mouth, imitating the gesture.

A satisfied grin sneaks across Beshib's lips. "Very good. We will notify you when you need to take it again, so you don't pass it on. Not that it's _contagious_ ," he corrects quickly, worried at his misnomer's effect. But we all stand, listening to his words bounce around us. Encouraged by our unresponsiveness, he goes on, "...So don't let it upset Leisure Time. Just know it's easy to contract these diseases from the environment around you. That's why we request—we _plead_ —that you stay within the gate. If temptation should get the best of you, think of your responsibility to your human race."

He offers a lowly dipped, overly gracious bow before leaping from the trunk and into the parting crowd below. And then he's gone.

The music starts and the room erupts into itself, the heavy layer of lust settling like usual. And just like that, people are back to their routines without any idea of what they just put in their body. Unless they feigned it like me? They've got to be smarter than taking something the Dofinikes give us. But I need to know for certain.

Taking off, I weave through the crowd in search of Sampson or Reid or Pratt. Maybe one of them will have information on this pill. Curving toward the West wall, I locate Reid instantly, but stop as I find him paired off with a beautiful honey-haired girl. She grasps his scrub with desperate fingers, demanding his attention, but he's not listening. He eyes the crowd, finding interest in anything else, _everything_ else. About to retreat, I step back and bump into a body behind me.

"Careful there," Walker steadies me, "wouldn't want to endanger you twice in one day."

"Oh—sorry."

"You just don't know when to quit," he folds his arms, "do you? Your first day and then today? What's going through that insane head of yours?"

"At least I'm trying."

"To get yourself killed? Yeah, we're aware of that," he grins, leaning in, "look—that thing you did earlier was amazing. Really. No one's stood up to Tetlak. _Ever_. It got a lot of people talking... but no one's ready to back you yet. So you got to cool it before things heat up."

"Thought they only took you if you tried to escape?"

"I'm sure they'd make an exception," he eyes something over my shoulder, his face growing stern. He looks to me again, "I got to bounce. Just... remember what I said, all right?"

He dashes through the crowd and disappears behind a shield of dancing bodies. And suddenly, Reid's here, in front of me, standing where Walker stood mere seconds ago. It feels a lot closer. "Is Raj still pushing him on you?"

"No. He just wanted to say hi."

"Sure he does," Reid stares off after him. Finally, he abandons the mission, returning his focus to me. "So... did you take it?"

"Give me credit," I bring up my hand, revealing the tablet still hidden between my fingers. "Like it isn't obvious."

"Well, you and me."

"The others?"

He nods.

"What do you think it is?"

"Not an antidote," he rolls his eyes, "that's for sure."

"Does this happen often? Pills?"

"Never. Only when we first get here. You're still new," he glances over me, reminding himself, "didn't Jeb give you something when you woke up?"

"Yeah... he did actually."

Something's ticking behind Reid's eyes which suddenly get lost in the distance. He frowns, reading movement to the right before quickly pulling me back to the wall. He wedges me between two couples and before I realize what he's doing, he flattens his body on mine.

"Pretend to be intimate," he leans in, brushing his lips against my neck and igniting the fireball somewhere below. I stiffen as the fiery roots burn their way up my chest and down, into the unexpected yearnings of my loins. He senses me tensing beneath him and, releasing his grip on my hips, rests his mouth at my jaw. "Relax..."

My heart threatens to explode, especially as he kisses below my ear.

" _Go with it_..." he whispers, tightening his squeeze again, his nose trailing down my neck and ending at the base of my throat. It sends a chill over my body, my mouth opening at the sensation. He slows to a still, something catching his attention again. He withdraws slightly but then, after another minute, when my body feels like putty, like liquid held together in the trappings of my skin, he pulls back fully, freeing himself of the heat. He runs his hand through his hair, "Sorry..."

My heart's still trying to quiet back down, my mind racing with what just happened.

What _did_ just happen?

Reid rubs the back of his neck, his eyes aloof, away from mine. He motions behind him. "Ergiloff and Jeb and the others... they...uh... like to catch up," he clears his throat, scanning the movement behind us, "mostly with people available to chat," and finally his eyes find mine, shifting between them. "I'm not ready to chat."

"So I was your scapegoat?"

"Something like that," he laughs, clearing his throat, "although it seems the only way to keep them off your back."

"What?" my heart's still slowing. "Keeping busy?"

He returns his serious stare, the kind that liquefies me all over again. "Yeah. Listen," he backs up, "I need to take care of a few things. Pick up Raj by the entrance," he indicates down the wall to the Maze's opening, "do a lap, then meet me back there in ten. Cool?"

"Yeah..." I start and then pause, "wait—how do you know she's there?"

He shrugs. "I'll have her sent."

"By _who_?"

"Don't worry about it," he winks, "see you in a few."

I head for the West Wall's entrance, going over everything. If Reid's not a Rogue... then what's his deal? Why do certain people—like Raj now—work for him? Is he something similar to the Kisses, being his own independent unit? Or is it something else?

"Hey," Raj grins, joining me at the entrance. "Ready for our lap?"

"Lead the way."

We walk in silence, my mind still racing with the Jeb- Ergiloff distraction... and Reid's lips. Does he do that often? And is _that_ why Leisure Time is the way it is? Because no one wants to 'catch up' with the Guide and scientist? There are so many things to diagnose, the foremost being the pills. Why did the Dofinikes have us take them?

"Raj..." I ignore the heat still radiating from my skin, "did you take the pill?"

"For the berry juice? Yeah," she throws me a contemplative frown. "Didn't you?"

Ignoring her question, I try to keep this as innocuous as possible. "Do you feel any... different?"

"Not really."

We breeze up by the East Wall. "So... no different at all?"

"Why?" she frowns. "It's supposed to protect us."

A long minute passes. "But what if it doesn't?"

"What do you mean?"

"We don't know what it is."

"It's like they said—an antidote for the berry juice."

"Right, but what if it's something else and they're using Hinson's death as a catalyst to get us to trust them?"

"What do you mean?"

"Well think about it," I toss her another glance, "they tell us someone's died, so there's a reason to take it, and it'd be strange if they _didn't_ offer some sort of protection..."

"No," her brows pinch together. "I mean, who's Hinson?"

#  Chapter Ten: Pills and Passageways

I'm not sure what to say.

Is she joking? But why jest about this? About something that was so clear to us all the other night. It doesn't make any sense. But Raj doesn't look like she's kidding. In fact, she looks serious. Confused. Worried, if anything.

"Fallon?"

I can only manage one word. "Hinson."

"Yeah, but who is she?"

"Hinson," I repeat, as if she'll get it by the stress of the sound, " _Hinson_."

"You keep saying that," she exhales, frustrated, "but who _is_ she?"

It's important how I phrase my next few statements. She knows something's wrong. Already. She can see it in my hesitation, my aversion to look her in the eye and tell her it's lost. Whatever it is she's supposed to have.

"Let's keep going," I inch forward, along the East Wall's entrance, "we'll get it straightened out."

"No!" She snatches my hands in hers, stopping us. A tremble quivers in her voice, "Don't keep me in the dark. Tell me, _please_..."

"It's fine," I lie, still inching forward. Raj's hand grows tight around mine, squeezing it to the point of bruising. I look down to her.

" _Fallon_ ," her voice grows shrill as a few nosey onlookers glance in our direction. "I know something's wrong. Just tell me. Whatever it is, _tell_ me. I have to know."

I grasp her shoulders, steadying her to the ground. "Raj, I need you to do something for me," I command in my sternest voice, "can you do something for me?"

Like an obedient child, she nods, battling out the moistness in her eyes.

"I need you to act like we're having a regular conversation. Because we are, right?" I enforce the authority in my tone, reminding her I'm the one in charge.

She nods again, quickly. "We are."

"Right. We're just talking, about nothing important, right?" I signal the correct response.

She nods again, wiping a lone tear from her cheek with her palm.

"Good! So, what I'm going to do is take a walk with you to Sampson. Not so hard," I swing my arm over her shoulder. "We'll go have a chat and sort everything out, okay?"

This seems to calm her down.

"Okay," she allows me to lead us back toward the West Wall's entrance.

I have no idea if he's there but Reid will know. And we're expected to meet him anyway. Arriving just as Clark disappears inside the entrance, I keep Raj tucked behind me, at the edge of the narrow opening. Reid appears moments later, swimming to us through the crowd.

"Is Sampson inside?" I indicate to the entrance.

"Yeah," he sees my unease, his brows pinching together. "Why?"

"Let's get to Sampson first," I glance to Raj under my arm.

Without a word, he leads us into the Maze and back to the same spot with the hidden door. Sampson, Vix, Clark and Pratt are already there. I drop Raj with Pratt before speeding toward Sampson. "We need to go to Camp _now_."

"What's happened?"

I shake my head. "Best we talk there."

"Of course," he nods, his eyes shifting between Reid and I, who's suddenly at my side. "Take my Callix," Sampson tosses me the pulsating blossom, "so you can find your way." He turns to Reid, "we'll get a head start. Meet us when you can."

With his hand on her shoulder, Sampson escorts Raj through the black passageway where Pratt, Clark and Vix have disappeared, the wall sliding into place behind them.

Once they're gone, Reid spins to me. "What's going on?"

"She doesn't remember Hinson."

He studies my face, searching for any hint of doubt or mistake. Surely he misheard. "What do you mean she doesn't remember Hinson?"

"She doesn't remember her," I shake my head, stressing, "at _all_."

Reid slips his hand in mine, pulling me back through the Maze. We're obviously not following the others so... where are we going? After a few turns, we reach another dead end. It takes a minute for my eyes to adjust but then I see it—the nearly invisible outline ahead.

"Are you serious?" How many hidden exits are there in this place? And how does Reid know so many? "Do the Dofinikes know about these?"

"Please," he laughs, "you think they'd let us use them if they knew they were here?"

He pushes the door back until it locks into place and slides it to the left. Diving through the four-foot gap, he gestures me to follow and I climb in behind him, finding myself in a compact hall. I run my fingers along the cool marble wall, the same as the ones outside.

"This way," Reid disappears into the blackness.

I hold out the Callix. All I can see are Reid's slippers walking their way out of my light's limited glow. "Where are we going?"

"You want proof?" his voice escapes from the dark. " _Real_ proof?"

"Of what?"

"That they can't remember. If what you're saying is true, I want more of a test subject than Raj."

"Well..." I think a moment, "who's not likely to forget Hinson?"

" _Exactly_ ," Reid turns, walking backwards. His face catches in the glow of my Callix, the corner of his mouth perking into a stomach tingling grin. "I'm not one for gossip but it was a matter of fact—Griffin and Hinson were _inseparable_. The whole star-crossed lover thing..." his smile weakens for a second, "...or, whatever. It was sickening. The amount of time they hung on each other, like they'd implode if some part of them wasn't attached. You'd think they'd have a million babies."

"And they never had any?"

"Nope."

"How do you know? I haven't seen a single baby since I've gotten here. And no one's pregnant either. Isn't that what the Dofinikes want? Repopulating?"

"Sure is."

"So where are all the babies?"

"They're kept upstairs," he says without missing a beat. "That's what all the building is for."

"And you believe that?"

"Do you?" he throws me a look. " _No one's_ seen a baby."

"A toddler?" I try, "a child?"

He shakes his head.

"Then how do you know—"

"I don't," he tosses me another look, his mouth dropping open. But his words get lost and he shakes his head, emerging back into the darkness. "We have to get to Griffin's room."

I follow Reid to the stairwell at the end of the tunnel and after ascending what feels like fifty steps, we come to a dead end wall with the same nearly invisible outline. Reid pushes the door in, the wall locking into place and automatically sliding to the right. We emerge through the gap and into the tower, a few floors up.

Reid jets down the darkened corridor and I trail behind, landing on the pads of my feet, right behind his. He slows, coming to a full stop at a crimson arch. I pause behind him but can only see the broad span of his shoulders. The door squeaks open and Reid and I slip in the tiny gap, closing it behind us.

There's a boy on the bed, hunched over and staring at the floor. He's big like a football player with blonde, shaggy hair and large, ferocious hands. A despairing numbness paints his hollow face, which, under other circumstances, could be quite handsome.

"Griffin," Reid pauses, "you alright, buddy? You sick?"

So this was Hinson's boyfriend. I try to imagine the two of them together. Happy. In love. The cheerleader and the jock. Fast forward to today. Right now. The rotting corpse and the manic depressive. Is this what living on Harrizel does? After a few minutes, as if Griffin hadn't noticed before, he finally acknowledges Reid.

"Yeah. I guess." His voice is weak, thin, as if it's about to break.

"Why aren't you downstairs?" Reid probes further, crossing his arms over his chest, "What's going on?"

I pull the chair out, releasing a loud squeak in the room. Griffin doesn't look up. He doesn't hear it. He doesn't accept it into his reality because that's somewhere in his head. His lost, dark cloud of a head that no longer knows what's happening.

"Come on," Reid huffs, "give me _something_."

"That's the thing," Griffin finally looks to him with pained eyes. "I don't know."

We both pause, waiting to ask the same question.

"You don't know...?" Reid beats me to it.

"Anything," Griffin exhales with an exhausted shrug, "like the lights are all turned off. Just..." he shakes his head, trying to find the right words, the right way to explain the grief we both see, "...nothing important. There's just nothing good." He glances up again, shaking his head with a hint of fear in his wet, red eyes. "Has it always been like this?"

"What do you mean?" Reid frowns.

"I don't know why I feel this way... but I do." Griffin's eyes begin to water as he bats them dry, scraping a knuckle over his left lid to catch remaining moisture. "It's like there's something missing. Like," he takes a hearty, wet gulp of air, prepping his voice which still staggers as he speaks, "I shouldn't be alive. Like it doesn't mean anything. "

"How long have you been this way?"

"I don't know..." he looks out into space, studying it, trying to remember a time before all this. "Maybe always?" Glancing up, it's as if he's suddenly aware of who he's been talking to, some evident failure flashing across his face. "Sorry, Rox... I'll get back downstairs."

"Rox?" I shift focus from Griffin to Reid. " _You're_ Rox?"

"Guilty."

I jump up—anger, surprise and the tiniest bit of betrayal ripping through me. "You never told me you were Rox."

"Didn't think I needed to."

"It's kind of important to leave out, don't you think?"

"Why?" he's intrigued, crossing his arms, "change your opinion of me?"

Does it?

"I'm really sorry," Griffin glances between us, attempting to wedge his apology in. "I promise it won't happen again."

"You really couldn't have told me?" I glare.

"I could've," he grins, still amused at my reaction.

"Then why didn't you?"

Griffin clears his throat, "But I haven't been watching—"

"It's alright," Reid breaks our stare, his hands dropping to his waist. He finds focus with Griffin again, pacing, "You're a good Client. Loyal. Trustworthy. Irie's never had a complaint. Tell you what... I'll add a Marowine a week if you come with us now and don't repeat anything you see or hear."

Griffin nods. "Who's us?"

"You'll see when we get there. This is Fallon," he gestures to me. "You'll meet the others in a bit. A Marowine a week," Reid repeats, "to buy a few answers and keep your silence. Think you're up for it?"

Griffin nods.

"Alright, let's go," Reid jets from the room, Griffin rising languidly behind him. I leave last, emerging into the outside hall, but Reid is already half-way back down the corridor, racing through the soft, dim glow of the babeebs. There're only five Gizella trees the entire length, each with a handful of the humming yellow spheres. Reid doesn't bother with them—Griffin either—both flying past, in and out of the shadows on the black, stone floor.

Toward the very end of the hall, where the West side meets the North, Reid stops at the entrance to the stairwell. He pushes on the rectangular outline of the invisible door embedded in the marble. It opens like the others and he slides in, then Griffin, then me, the door closing again. It's pitch black on the other side.

"Fallon," Reid calls. "The Callix."

I hand it over and he holds it out like a lantern, taking off down the stairwell. Reaching the ground, he sprints in a light jog, Griffin and I doing our best to keep up. After a few minutes, the smell begins to shift and I slow. We're no longer encumbered with the dusty, aged marble, but instead, the scent of dirt. Wet dirt. Or is that plant life I smell?

The footsteps ahead die down as I push faster, to a near run. Something tells me I'm not going to want to lose them. Not in here. I fly through the blackened burrow just in time to see Griffin's blonde hair dash left where the tunnel forks in two. Keeping his moving form in view, this sudden feeling of autonomy deflates. I'm not free, I'm _following_. I can't navigate these tunnels on my own.

But Reid can.

I jet past Griffin and reach Reid who veers left and then right, streams of tunnels interlocking with one another, the maze growing larger and larger. There's no longer just one burrow to follow but a whole underground city of interweaving roads. I'm at Reid's side, keeping to his swift pace. He chooses another tunnel without hesitation.

"How do you know where you're going?"

He shrugs. "I'm down here a lot."

"It's more than that," I press. He doesn't respond but pushes forward as if he didn't hear me. "Are we going to pass the Water Pole?"

"Different route."

"How many are there?"

"Enough."

"It's more than just being down here," I keep pace with his wide strides, "how do you know?"

"I just know."

"What gives it away?"

"What makes you think something gives it away?" his eyes flicker to mine this time, trying to read their guesses. But I don't have any. Each burrow looks the same—dark and narrow and coated with the scent of outside. But there's got to be a roadmap to this underground city.

" _Everyone_ leaves breadcrumbs."

He finally stops with a sigh. "It's the texture," he takes my fingers in his and runs them along the hardened curve of the grainy, wooden wall. A quick shiver races through my bones, my fingers swelling at the touch of his. "Root or dirt. Root leads you back. Dirt leads nowhere."

"We're running through roots? What kinds of trees have roots this big?"

"Very _large_ ones," he laughs, dropping my hand. He turns and picks up speed. "Come on, we're almost there."

We jog the rest of the short distance, my fingers outstretched and streaming the grainy, wooden walls, memorizing their texture, until we arrive at the same hovel from the other night. The others are already here. Vix and Clark claim opposite ends of the carved bench while Raj stands in the center, biting her thumb. Pratt and Sampson pace in the middle behind her, two babeebs atop each of their heads. Sampson looks up as Reid closes the door behind us.

"Ah, you've arrived."

He motions to Griffin, "Had to pick up someone up."

"Now _him_ too?" Clark jumps to an accusing stand, his arms flying wildly in the air. "Why don't we just shout out our secret location to everybody?"

"Griffin," Raj gawks, "what're _you_ doing here?"

"Rox..." he looks at Reid, then scans the others, "...says he has some questions. Maybe tell me why I feel like this."

"And how is it you feel?" Sampson softly poses. He motions for Griffin to take a seat at one of the open benches. Raj follows, sitting beside him and the two look up at Sampson.

"You're feeling...?"

Raj starts first, though it's obvious the question was directed at Griffin. " _Scared_ ," she gulps, awaiting the explanation to all this. "What's going on Sampson? _Please_ tell us."

"And yourself?" he poses the question toward Griffin again.

"Empty..." he says without meeting Sampson's eyes, "...like... I shouldn't even be here."

"We're going to get to the bottom of this as soon we as know some information," Sampson's voice is strong, confident. "Now, you both took the pill?"

Raj nods eagerly as Griffin tries to remember.

"The pill?" his face scrunches in confusion.

"The one for the berry juice poison," Raj fills him in.

"Oh yeah," he remembers, "I did take a pill. Earlier. At Lecture."

"Me too, me too," Raj looks back to Sampson, eyes bugged and waiting for a response. "So?"

Sampson steps back to consider this as Reid approaches them, glancing from one to the other. "And do you either of you remember Hinson?"

Raj shakes her head emphatically. Griffin, on the other hand, pauses at the sound of the name. It's stirring something in him, but the name alone won't work. It's a clue, but a clue to what? He waits a moment, concentrating on that word—that _name_ —before shaking his head in defeat. "No."

"It sounds familiar though?" I chime in, "Like you should know it?" I focus on Griffin, who's still trying to work out the meaning of the name. "That's because you _should_ know it."

"And me?"

I nod to Raj, unaware of the defeat in my own voice. "Yeah, you knew Hinson."

"Well who is she? What happened?" she asks.

"We have a theory," Sampson starts again, taking my place as I fall back past Pratt. I claim half a bench across from Vix as Sampson goes on, "This is the earlier phase, so please don't be too harsh with us if the mystery is not quite unfolded tonight. We believe..." he starts, pausing to carefully select his words, "that the pill you both ingested earlier—the one for the berry juice—might cause memory loss. Memory loss of a _specific_ person."

"What?" Raj gasps, "How?"

"Well..." Sampson says, beginning to pace again, "let's see if we can figure this out. You say the pill was for berry juice poison, correct?"

Both nod.

"How did they discover this poison? Surely an incident was reported?"

"Yeah, they said there was some sort of berry juice infection," Raj replies, "Someone got it."

"But who?"

"I don't know—they don't know."

"So..." Sampson sums up, "when you went to Lecture, Beshib made mention of an infection and advised you all to take the pill?"

Both Raj and Griffin nod.

"I see..." Sampson goes on, directing his questions solely at Raj now, who doesn't seem to mind, "and before the pill, can you remember us from the other night? Here, in this very burrow?"

Raj opens her mouth to answer but closes it immediately, as if realizing it's a trick question. She waits a moment, her eyes darting about, calculating. "I remember us," she starts, "we were outside... but then in here. And talking."

"Can you remember about what?" I ask.

Her face reddens, "...That I was a Kiss. And I'd be working for Rox," she glances at him, then back at Sampson, hoping for the right answer, "and then..." We all wait, Raj holding us in suspense, "...I can't remember."

Sampson nods. "I see."

"But I remember us out there," she chirps quickly, "I _do_."

"Who's Hinson?" Griffin's meek voice finally breaks through.

We all glance at each other but no one wants to answer. No one wants to reveal the horror. Finally, Reid clears his throat. He sits next to me, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. "She was your girlfriend. You were together as long as I've been here," he stops, lowering his head. "You really loved her."

Griffin nods without meeting anyone's eyes, his own moistening over like before. He runs the back of his hand across his nose and swallows so loudly, it echoes in the silence. "And you guys..." he finally says after a moment, "you guys didn't take the pill? None of you?"

We all shake our heads, except for Raj, who seems to fully understand what's happening now.

"How'd you know not to take it?"Griffin probes further.

"We've..." Sampson addresses this question, "...been under suspicion for a while now that some things may not be as they seem."

"Does anyone else know?"

"This is all new to us too," Clark chimes in, "we're just a step closer than you, is all."

Griffin nods, looking back to Sampson with assumed hope, "And an antidote? Is there any possibility?"

" _Perhaps_. Each cause has an effect. It's just a matter of sorting out a new cause and desired effect. I'd imagine it would be quite simple if I had the necessary tools and equipment."

"Were you a scientist in a past life?" Raj jokes but we all find this possibility too obvious. Maybe Sampson wasn't a scientist in a past life. Maybe he's one now, in this life. "Do you really think you could find an antidote?"

"Not today," he shakes his head, "or even tomorrow. I have no more pull than you all and as it stands, we are slaves to their will. It'd take some time and patience."

"I could wait," Griffin says.

"Well, we can make it one of our goals. Remedying this 'memory charm.' But until its reverse is discovered, don't take any more pills, no matter what they say. No matter how they persuade you... who knows what you'll wake up remembering."

"I don't understand though," Raj states, looking from Sampson to Reid, "why erase a person from our memory? What did Hinson _do_?"

"The real question," Reid counters, pulling at his chin as he falls back to the wall, "is why erase her _now_? They've never had to do it before."

"Yeah," Clark adds, "it's not like they do anything about it with the Snatchings. Dofinikes have been taking people or hiring the Kings to do it forever, and _no one_ says a word."

"Is it random?" I ask.

"What?"

"Who they take."

Reid shrugs, sitting forward again with his elbows on his knees, "If it's still the same, the Kings get the names from Tetlak. They're the ones who pick the humans. And then the Kings get the Scouts and Clients to set the whole thing up."

"So it's not personal to the Kings?"

"No," Clark and Reid both shake their heads, surprised I'd come to this conclusion. "No," Reid explains, finally looking at me. "It's whoever the Dofinikes want. Like ordering off a menu. The Kings are the servers and everyone else runs the restaurant for them."

"And what about the others," I risk a glance at Raj, "like the Clients? The ones who are no longer valuable?"

"Added bonus," Clark shrugs.

"Or they get rid of them," Reid jumps up from the bench, running his hands through his hair. "Well, there's not much more we can do about any of it tonight so Pratt, Raj," he motions to them, "if you could take Fallon back. Griffin, if you don't mind staying."

All three nod, Pratt jumping up as both girls round to either side of me. Reid's already deep in conversation with Griffin, Sampson and Clark. Vix sharpens a knife at her bench, listening. A light pull from Pratt and the scene disappears from view.

After dropping off Raj, Pratt escorts me to my bunker even though I offer to walk her to hers several times. Just seems silly to be escorted by someone less than half your age. Still, I give one last attempt as we reach my door.

"Can't," she shrugs, "Boss's order."

"Seriously?" I arch a brow. "Boss?"

She laughs. "You have _no_ idea."

"You've got to explain," I lean against the arch, crossing my arms. "Is his name Reid or Rox?"

"It's Reid."

"So what's with the nickname?"

"It's not a nickname. It's a title," she shrugs. "Like a sign of respect."

"Okay..." I quickly recount what was told to me that first night. "Well, Raj said 'Rox' was over the Rogues. In fact, I think she used the term 'Kingpin.' So..." I exhale, ready to know the truth. "Is he a Rogue or not?"

Holding her breath, she exhales after an intense minute. Finally she nods. "He says he retired but... he'll always be a Rogue."

"Why did he retire?"

"It's really best if he tells you," she backs up.

"Come on..." I'm walking toward her, "tell me."

"Can't. He'll kill me."

Accepting this as her final word on the matter, I bite my lip. She's right. He already told me he was Rox—what else do I need to know? It's his business. Plus, it's unfair to demand more from Pratt, especially when I'm sure she's been asked not to say much. I waive a goodnight and start selecting the symbols to unlock my door when her voice startles me.

"Just so you know," she's still unsure if divulging this information is smart, "you're the only one he supplies for free."

"What?"

"And you're also the only one he lets use his real name."

" _You_ call him Reid," I cross my arms again. "And Sampson and the others."

"But none of the Rogues, Scouts or Clients. _No one_ calls him Reid. It's just the four of us," Pratt shakes her head with a curious glance over me, "now five. Just..." she retreats as shadows fall over her face. "Thought you should know."

***

How is everyone able to take it?

If I really wanted to, I could do it. Escape. Flee the Castle and live out in the jungle, if it meant I'd be free from this. But Reid's words come rushing back and with them, the bitter truth of what that would mean. Desertion. Abandoning everyone who wants to do the same. Who _needs_ to, but is too terrified. I can't leave them. I _won't_ , not to be snatched or dragged back or whatever being here means. But I need to get out of here too, even at night, if only to clear my mind.

I have to talk to Reid.

Down the line, a girl sneezes. Most keep their heads lowered but a sparse few like me risk a glance. And that's when I see him.

Not the _him_ I was hoping for, but someone just as useful. Same dark hair and long nose, it's the kid who is always trailing after Reid and he's only six or seven bodies down. I make my way over and pause behind him. The girl to his left doesn't notice right away, but after a second, glances at me.

Shock.

Bewilderment.

Like I'm the last person she expected to see. Her eyes fly to him, willing him to look up. He doesn't, so I motion her to move along and she's quick to obey. Resuming her place, I dig in her stead. After a minute, the boy goes rigid, his arms dropping to his side. But I keep digging, scooping spoonfuls of gibb into the bucket and he does the same. A long minute passes.

"You work for Rox."

He barely nods, as if changing his mind a second into the gesture.

"Got a name?"

A long pause. "Irie."

"Look..." I languidly toss my Senz into the gibb, "...not sure how this is done... but can I talk to him? Or at least... let him know I'm looking for him?"

"Wait here." He turns and heads through the trench.

He disappears into the distance and I lose myself in mindless digging. This is good. He'll be gone for a few minutes and it'll give me time to figure out how to ask Reid about gathering food. I've asked Pratt plenty of times and she always comes back with the same answer. But maybe going to the source will provide different results.

Maybe.

"Hey..." Reid's voice breaks my focus as he thrusts his Senz into the wall, "what's going on?"

"I'm coming with you."

He pauses. "Where?"

"To gather food at night."

He flings his Senz into the wall again, making a halfhearted attempt. He's considering it. _Definitely_ considering it but still, he makes no response.

"It makes sense that I—"

"Good afternoon," Ergiloff's voice projects from above. Reid cautions a finger over his lips, looking toward the Castle like everyone else. "Would the following persons please report to the labs _immediately_..."

Ergiloff calls out a list of seven names, six females and one male.

One girl, a few bodies down, removes her Senz as the third name is called and drops them in her bucket. Her hair swishes behind her in a long, straight ponytail as she makes her way for the ladder. The swing of her hair reminds me of Pratt and before I realize what I'm doing, I'm running after her. In and out of people, I dodge over buckets until I've rounded in front. Quickly, I search for anything I can use.

"You want me to hold onto your clip?" I gesture to the metallic butterfly pinned in her locks. "They don't allow hair pieces in the labs."

"I'm sorry?"

"When I arrived, I was taken to the labs. I had a hair clip similar to yours, but they took it away. Haven't gotten it back yet," I clear my throat, "just saying I could hold onto it for you so you won't have to toss it. I can give it back to you at Leisure Time."

"Oh," her eyes relax, "thanks." She snaps the metal, handing me the clip before heading up the ladder and out of the trench.

I turn the piece over, examining the color and quality of it. The special markings, little indentions, nicks and scratches. This is a piece of her history, her life before coming to Harrizel. I meander back to my spot, running my fingertips over the aged metal. I snap the clip into my hair and I resume digging. Reid stares at me with a questionable frown.

"I want to be able to give _her_ boyfriend something."

"She doesn't have a boyfriend. It's yours."

"It's _hers_. Proof of her," I swing my Senz into the gibbed wall. "Proof that she exists." He accepts this and keeps going. "This the first time they've called lists?"

"First time with the pills, first time with the lists..." he exhales and after a long minute, glances to me. "You can come with us."

"Tonight?"

"Tomorrow or the next night. Tonight I... I have some stuff to take care of."

I nod, biting my lip. "So, when were you going to tell me you were Rox?"

"Still bothered by that?" he grins.

"I'm not bothered... just... curious."

"Well what are you curious about?" he thrusts his Senz into the wall.

"What does it mean? Are you in charge of... _everything_?"

He laughs. "No— _that'd_ be sweet. Just the Rogues... their Scouts... their Clients..."

"That's all?"

"If you really want more details, I'll swing by your room later," he tosses me a glance. "After Leisure Time."

Heat blooms inside. "You know where it is?"

"Of course," he scoffs, surprised I'd even ask. "We'll talk about gathering too. Cool?"

Remaining focused on the gibb, I nod. Out of the corner of my eye I see him mirror the gesture before he backs into a retreat. He's gone without a reply and suddenly, I'm curious as to what the night will bring.

***

Leisure Time.

As Jeb finishes Reminders about the excessive use of the Water Pole and the hushed conversations in the trench lines that must stop _immediately_ , people fall into that familiar timing. When they start grinding on one another, releasing themselves carnally—or feigning it to avoid conversations with the Guide and scientist, which seems more likely after a day of Rebuilding.

I'm skimming the Maze, biding my time until it's safe to go back upstairs. But as I take another step, I pause, my internal siren going off, warning me of a nearby danger. And I see him—a pair of black eyes sitting like an anchor in a sea of passing fish.

He's around fifty feet away and starts toward me with slow strides, his crooked mouth hooking high into that jawboned face. On his neck, a red flame disappears into the shiny blonde folds behind his ear. He's alone, but moves quickly, and I'm not sure what the right plan is. Retreat? Or stay here with the others? Pratt said a lot of the Snatchings occur during Leisure Time... but wouldn't they happen in the Maze?

He's coming for me and I need to act fast. Stay or leave?

Stay or leave?

He'll be at me—whoever he is—in seconds with the rate he's going. I need to do something now. But what? Loose myself in the crowd? He could follow me right through it. And he's just about here.

_Shit_.

#  Chapter Eleven: Rox

Reid locks his arm on the adjacent wall, blocking me with his back. Nipping his thumb, he tosses the incoming stranger a look, one that makes him stop short.

The boy with the red flame is put off for a second but recovers quickly. He smiles up at Reid, and, with a casual, almost friendly voice, explains. "Just coming over to say hello."

Silence.

"Didn't realize you were..." he risks a glance at me, his dark eyes scouring the bits of my body he can see, "...tapping into the Market again."

Reid positions himself to fully cover me, dropping his arm from the wall. He crosses them, nipping at his right thumb again. The boy with the flame tattoo grins wider. "Good to see things are changing."

"Nothing's changed."

"Pratt still run your assignments?"

Reid shrugs innocently, honestly, "She's a friend."

"She's a _Scout_. Once a Scout, always a Scout... though they never seem to understand that," he mutters that last part to himself. "It's alright to admit you're back in. I'm not going to deny I've been awaiting Rox's return— _everyone_ has—so just go ahead and say it. We're here talking, aren't we?" he shoots me a glance, keeping it unclear as to whom he's referencing. "Isn't that enough?"

"I'm just helping out," Reid grinds his teeth, his tone lowering as he leans in, "speaking of... heard something about unusual movement this morning."

"Oh?"

"Not sure Tucker had much to say on it."

"Does he ever?"

Reid leans in, "...Tell your boys they're slipping."

"Well, you would know about slipping."

Reid merely nods to himself, considering the comment with seemingly little interest. He gives it a second more before gesturing for the stranger's immediate departure. "You said hello."

"So soon?"

Reid repeats the gesture.

"If you say so," he casts me a final glance. "Good to know _you're_ here... Fallon, right?" he smiles, glimpsing at Reid before leaving.

After he does, Reid paces for half a second, running his fingers through his hair, quickly calculating.

"Who was that?"

He risks a glance my way. "Not someone I was hoping you'd meet."

"A King?"

He stops short with a nod.

"Your status?"

He shakes his head. "High up but not the top. _Shit_ ," he mumbles to himself, starting to pace again as three new bodies approach. Irie and the blonde Rogue I recognize immediately, but I've never seen the last boy who stands a foot shorter than Reid. Built slightly slimmer, he sports shaggy bronze hair and has warm, amber eyes.

"What's doing, Boss?" Blondie crosses his arm, stopping the trio. "Tucker wants word on the list earlier. Pills too."

"Irie, go get Sampson," Reid taps his shoulder and he takes off at the mission, weaving his way into the crowd. Reid looks to the pair, "Make sure Mantis doesn't overstep his boundaries again. I don't want another instance," his eyes flicker to me. "And tell Chief to tighten security. We might have to make some adjustments."

"Got it," Blondie nods, "any certains?"

Reid shakes his head. "I'll talk to Tucker about it. Tell him I'll be there in a minute."

"On it."

Reid motions their dismissal and the boys set off again, disappearing into the crowd. He turns to me with an honest frown. "Sorry about the King. He uh... shouldn't have gotten that close. But just for tonight, I'm having Sampson take you back to your room. I'll swing by later to discuss gathering."

"Why does Sampson need to take me back?" I narrow my eyes. "Am I in danger?"

Reid's mouth opens and just as it looks like he may utter an explanation, Sampson's here. He glances between us but focuses on Reid first. "Jace and Able said you were finishing up some business and that you'd be there shortly."

Reid nods.

"Fallon," he turns his smile on me, "we haven't spent much time together and I'd like to remedy that. Would you allow me to escort you back to your room?" he steps forward, "Whenever you're feeling ready, of course."

I throw Reid a glance but he's gone, disappearing in the few seconds of escape I gave him. Does Sampson really have to escort me back? I've never needed a guard before. "Uh... sure."

He sweeps a few babeebs over his head and leads us up to the Courtyard. We walk in silence for a minute until we've reached the other end of the plum and gray checkerboard.

"Not that I mind but... why are you taking me back to my room?"

He hesitates, "...It was a request from Reid."

"But why?"

"I guess he feels you need protection."

I'm about to ask why again, but I know the answer. It's from that King—what'd they call him? Mantis? But I still don't understand. _Why_ do I need protection from him? What do we have to do with each other? I look at Sampson. "Are you going to gather later?"

"Depends."

"On?"

"Well..." he chuckles, "frankly... whether I feel up to it."

"Reid's coming by later," I say, suddenly embarrassed by the sound of it, "to talk about the gathering," I quickly amend, "about me helping you guys."

Sampson's mouth turns up in a grin, "Is that so?"

"I have some other questions so hopefully we can talk about them too."

"What other questions?" he's curious. "Perhaps I can assist?"

"Um..."

We start up the stairwell, Sampson linking his hands behind his back, "You expressed interest in the tunnels."

"I did."

"I didn't admit it that first night," he tosses me a playful smirk, "but there's a whole _labyrinth_ of them."

"A labyrinth?" the word arouses my excitement and fear, as Reid's navigation floods back.

"Indeed. One so interwoven, so _complex_ , you could get lost forever."

"And you trust yourselves not to?"

"I think we'll be fine," he hides something in that grin, an inside joke perhaps. But then, as if to offer a logical reason to it, "We have our Callixes."

I want to ask him how that keeps them from getting lost when it only provides light, but I don't. Instead, I press forward, asking what I really want to know.

"They're from that tree, aren't they?" we're halfway up the stairs now. "The one out by the ruins?"

He slows, struck by the word. "Is that what you consider them?"

"Well..." and for some reason, I feel as though I've offended him. "What would you say?"

He thinks about it, trying it on, applying the word to whatever image he already had in mind. After a moment, he shrugs, "I suppose it would seem appropriate. But yes, it's the Rinzal Tree. _The light in the dark_."

"I could go get a Callix of my own... so I don't have to keep using yours."

"It's not an inconvenience in the slightest, and really," he shakes his head, "you shouldn't have to _take_ one. You should be _given_ one. Callix Blossoms are a gift."

"What do you mean?" we turn onto my floor.

"Well... the Callix is a symbol of _love_ ," he says the word tenderly, as though trying to sound it out, "you give it, usually only once, to someone you care very deeply for."

I reach for the one he lent me, tucked away in my shoulder strap, "I don't want to take yours."

"Not mine," he smiles, patting his chest, "I keep mine close. That one's an... extra, we'll call it... but really, please, continue to use it. Unless of course," he grins, "you feel more comfortable with the babeebs."

"Haven't bothered with them, actually."

"Oh?"

"Got zapped," I rub my finger, thinking of that first—and last—time I tried to touch one.

"Well," he sighs, considering the sad fact, "this isn't their home. They've been brought here against their will to survive in an environment not suitable to their longevity. I imagine a zap now or then might be... deserved."

"Yeah, but _I_ didn't do it," we stop at my door.

"They don't know that. They only know the environment in which they've been presented. They can only trust that everybody's an enemy. Until you take the time to understand them," and with this, Sampson scoops a few of the babeebs over his head, placing them gently to hum over mine, "you'll never see clearly."

They vibrate softer than I'd expected. It's so faint a hum that you'd forget they were there, if not for the giant circle of golden light. Everything nearby brightens and I can see further into the shadows for once. Instinctively, I raise my hand to my head and wait to feel the vibrations in the air. They react to the hairs on my hand as I roll it under, until I have a little ball of smooth, humming vibrations cupped in the center of my palm. Pulling my hand down, I hold it in front of me.

Like a little sun. A little glowing sphere humming just over my palm. I squint, discovering tiny, oval indentions in long rows, one or two flickering an eye lid open.

"Have a good night, Fallon," Sampson bows his head, retreating into the shadows.

I head inside, latching the door behind me as I head for the bed. I have no idea what time Reid means to swing by, but after a day of 'Rebuilding,' I'm in need of rest. I lie down, fold my arms behind my head and stare up at the silvery Gizella branches slithering across the ceiling. I'm not sure how long I've been transfixed when his voice startles me.

"Hey."

I spring up, finding Reid in the open doorway to my room. "Hi."

"Mind if I...?" he gestures to entering without an invitation, although he's already halfway in.

"Of course..." heat spreads throughout me at the suddenly tight proximity. But then I glance at the closed door behind him and realize what he's done. "How'd you do that?"

"What?" he looks to the crimson arch, "Oh—a sirolla."

I raise a brow.

He walks to me, presenting a clear tiny sphere, just smaller than a babeeb. "Like a door decoder—can open anyone's." It's pinched between his fingers but I'm focused on him admiring the object. He's proud of it, and wants me to be too. But then he looks to me and suddenly I'm overheating. We're too close.

"So..." I move away, "...that's how you got into Griffin's room."

"Yeah. I'm surprised that slipped past you."

He's right. If I'd been paying attention, I wouldn't have missed that. Why wasn't I paying attention again? I run through the night's events and my heart skips at the memory of his lips on my neck.

"Fair enough..." I move around the space, trying to remember why he came over. There were multiple things we were supposed to talk about and now, now I can't think of any. All I can concentrate on is the heat radiating in this tiny space and how—how terribly delicious his lips look.

Stop it!

"You wanted to know about gathering food," he reminds me, "Pratt will pick you up after Leisure Time starts. We're out for two hours and that's it." He hesitates, "You uh, sure you want to go?"

"It's freedom. Besides," I gesture to the collection of fruits on my food dispenser. "I need to start working off my debt."

"It's paid."

"Already?"

He shrugs. "I know the Boss."

" _Yeah_..." I laugh, "thanks for telling me by the way."

"Didn't think it was important," he crosses his arms, "besides, my name is Reid. That's what you asked for. My name."

"Knowing you go by Rox is pretty helpful too."

"Well... I didn't tell you because I've taken some time off."

"A sabbatical?"

He nods.

"Why?"

He rubs the back of his neck, his eyes roaming the floor. "I was seeing someone and it didn't work out."

"Oh," I pale, suddenly embarrassed to bring it up.

"Yeah..." Reid turns, equally uncomfortable, "so Tucker's taken over Rogue Leader. Rogues report to him now."

"But _he_ reports to you. Is that right?"

Reid paces with a half shrug, "I try to stay out of it."

"But?"

"But lately he's been begging me to resume my post."

"Why?"

"I don't know..." he shrugs, "they miss me? Probably has to do with the pills and list."

"So why don't you go back?"

He shakes his head, gnawing on the tip of his thumb again.

"Okay..." I sit on the bed, folding my legs. "What about that guy earlier? The King. What was his deal?"

"He uh..." Reid blushes, looking away, "he thinks you're my new girl."

" _What_? _Why?_ "

"Since Ansley, I haven't really—I mean, I don't ever talk to anyone outside Pratt and the Rogues. You're the first..." he exhales, nervously laughing, "... _girl_ I've actually been seen talking to. Guess he sort of assumed."

"Okay..." I race through what he's telling me, "but even if he thinks that, does it really merit an escort? I mean, I'm not in any danger, am I?"

He bites the tip of his thumb.

"Reid?"

"No one's coming near you," he sits on the bed, "and look, sorry for this mess. It's my fault. I should've been smarter being around you."

_Being around me?_ It was just the few times in the trenches and Auditorium. Is that all it takes? It has to be something else. "Maybe it was the scapegoat thing?"

"Maybe," he blushes again, "but seriously, you're good. Mantis or any of the Kings come within feet of you, I'll know."

"Then what?"

He shrugs. "I'll take care of them."

"And..." I make sure I understand this correctly, "this is all because you're Rox? Because they've seen you with me a total of three times? _This_ makes me your girlfriend?"

"Yeah," he leans forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "Stupid, I know."

A minute passes. I stare at the ground, trying to figure out the next thing to say. I'm sure it should be about the pills or the list earlier. Even about gathering, but I keep coming back to the same question I want answered more. "Why weren't you?"

"What?"

"Smarter with me?"

"Jesus, Fallon," he laughs, ducking his head between his shoulders. He waits a moment, "What do you want me to say?"

We both sit in silence and I figure he's not going to answer.

"No one's going to bother you, okay? It's kind of a good thing he thinks you're my..." Reid clears his throat, "...it's protection."

"Reid."

"What?"

"Look at me."

And when he does, I melt all over again. I have to keep my strength if we're going to have this conversation. "Was the scapegoat thing for real?"

He nods. "But..."

"But?"

Running his hands through his hair, he focuses on the ground again. "But normally I jet into the Maze."

I'm not sure where to go at this point. Following Reid's lead, I look to the black stone floor, trying to figure out the next thing to say. And like him, I have nothing. Just the silence sits between us, palpable and intense.

"Fallon?"

"Yeah?"

"Don't hit me, okay?"

"Hit you? Why would I—" but when I look up, his lips are on mine. I'm ablaze, fire erupting in the pit of my belly. My heart almost stops at the taste of him, his intoxicating scent sending me higher and higher and it's on me, like his mouth, which presses gently against mine, as if I were something precious to him, something afraid he might break.

Sliding his hands up my neck, he pulls me closer and deepens the kiss, opening my mouth with his. His tongue slips in, finding mine and my body sings at their meeting. Palms flat against his chest, I push back, inhaling the crisp air of the room. But he's on me before I can breathe a full gulp, holding me to him. With his tongue exploring my mouth, my insides blaze to an unimaginable heat, especially as he starts leaning me back.

Pratt flies through the door.

Reid withdraws with an exasperated grunt, dropping his hands from me. He runs them up his face and through his hair as Pratt stands in front of him, panting. "I'm so sorry Reid," she glances my way, " _so_ sorry but you have to come now. _Right_ now."

"What's wrong?"

"Snatching turned into a Clan fight."

"Vic?"

"Raj."

Reid is on his feet, flying after Pratt. I'm behind him the next instant. He turns sharply. "You stay here."

"What's going on? What happened to Raj?" I try to follow but he blocks the door with his body. "Is she okay?"

"I'm serious. STAY HERE!" he barks, jetting out after Pratt.

I give it only a second's consideration before flying down the stairs after them.

#  Chapter Twelve: Snatchings

It's a blood bath.

In the Southeast corner of the Courtyard, most are still on their feet. They jab knives and throw bloodied knuckles, flying over others who try to drag themselves away while some remain motionless, drowning in a pool of their own blood. Reid soars into the violent mob, a long rod gripped in his right hand. He leads a host of thirteen behind him, already swinging as his two friends from the other night keep to his back. The rest follow as they immerse themselves into the riot with fresh, feral energy.

It's not letting up. If anything, it's gotten worse with Reid's entrance. A terrifying knot in my stomach uncoils. He's in the pit of it. I can't see him. He's lost inside the tight center, hidden behind flying fists and weapons.

"Rox!" Blondie points to the South Wall, just off the edge of the fight. I follow his signal, finding Raj a ways back.

My heart clenches.

She's on her knees and held by two giant captors who watch the scene with an eerie sense of enjoyment. They have her arms outstretched, gripping her with huge, tightened mitts. They must be squeezing her, twisting her. _Something_. Her eyes are shut but her mouth hangs open. In pain? A scream? The knot in my stomach grows and I can't help what I'm about to do.

I fly past Pratt and into the violent crowd.

Get to Raj.

I trip over some unconscious leg, stumbling at first, my palms catching the sticky red film of the ground to steady myself. I wipe them on my pants and push through the tangled nest of bloodied bodies as red rains around me.

My heart's pounding with adrenaline and I'm almost to Raj when something knocks me in the back of the head. Hard. I go down quickly, hitting the checkered stone with the side of my face that knocks the world out with a black flash.

Fallon!

It's an echo, from far away. And I'm not sure I really hear it. But it seeps into my subconscious, keeping me awake.

Fallon!

I open my eyes and see Raj. She's crying out in panic, in terror at everything around her. That's when the sound returns. And I'm still here, in the middle of it. Someone grabs my elbow, but releases me just as quickly. I'm on my knees, pulling myself to my feet and slipping in the red film as Raj's face comes in and out of view. They're pulling her back, dragging her by her arms and she's sobbing.

"Raj!" I fly for her as the world stops shaking.

But then someone grabs me with both arms and lifts. The ground leaves me and suddenly I'm being crushed in the air. Kicking furiously, I slam my heels back as hard as possible. I make contact with a knee and the arms go limp around me.

Hitting the ground, I start to run when I'm grabbed again. He swings me back and I bend my elbow, knocking it across his face, jamming it into his nose. He curses, releasing me to hold his face instead. It's only a second, but I jet away, sliding through the red film toward Raj. I have to get to her. I have to save her. She can't go. Not like Hinson.

But before I'm able to reach her, Blondie and the bronze haired Rogue work on taking down her captors. Distracted by their own fights, both assailants break their clutch on Raj and I rush forward, racing at the opportunity to pull her free.

"Fallon!" she cries, terror piercing her voice.

She trembles as I grip her, dragging her back from the fight. Tears stream down her face as I search for our exit, any clear place that can get us away from here. Suddenly, she begins to seizure in my arms, her body tightening into a numb, lifeless state. Heavy at the new unbalance, she slips through my hands but I catch her in time as we both slide to the sticky red ground.

"Raj?" I try, knowing she can't answer. Sweeping my hand under her neck and shoulders, I lay her down as gently as possible, staring into her eyes that, like Hinson, exude unimaginable fear.

"Raj?"

And then, like last time, the semi-reflective cords appear. The battle instantly freezes, all movement halting. The silent audience parts as the taunting, carefully treaded _scrape-scrape-scrape_ of talon on marble approaches in its place. I don't need to look up. There's nothing there I want to hold onto, nothing worth paying any attention to. Right now Raj lays in my arms, paralyzed in terror. That's all that matters.

"Move." He hisses under his breath.

Her eyes widen as she takes in the sight of him. They look to me with such desperation, such pleading. _Don't let me go. Don't let me go..._

I squeeze her hand—it's all I can do.

" _Now_ ," he follows up his threat.

It takes everything I have not to launch myself at him, inflicting all the pain I can before meeting an inevitable, untimely demise. That's not the way this is supposed to end, though. Not here in this dark bloodied mess, with all these people witnessing. Not in front of Raj.

Laying her down fully, like a lamb to the slaughter, I slowly rise to a stand.

Tetlak looms three feet above, his yellow eyes narrowed into slits, watching me. Waiting. I don't move. My powder blue slippers remain cemented to the red checkered floor, to Raj's side and there's nothing that's going to change that. A sharp growl escapes, billowing his whiskers with salty heat. The scent wafts toward me but I remain motionless. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe it will end this way. Tonight. Right now.

Tetlak lets another growl escape—a final warning. Move or be moved. The broken, bleeding faces stand stunned, paralyzed. They're consumed by the unfamiliar scene playing before them. They've never seen something like this. Not yet, at least. A showdown they all thought impossible. But it's not for them—not for any of them. It's for Raj at my feet. It's for Hinson.

I hold eyes with Tetlak and shake my head.

He jets toward me with a fierce launch over Raj. I don't have time to react. Reid is between us in an instant, his body an impregnable wall against the malignant reptile hovering above. Tetlak stops at the change in target, glancing at Reid, then at me.

A familiar voice interjects.

"I believe you have what you've come for, Tetlak," Sampson's morose words break the silence with surprising courage. "Let it be the end, then?"

Tetlak draws back, whipping around to Sampson. But he doesn't budge. Not even a flinch. Sampson's face remains indissoluble, overcome in a sheet of sadness.

"We've been over this," Tetlak hisses, "know your place."

"And know yours," Sampson tosses back as easily, though still deeply saddened, "you've assisted in a disturbance but your services are no longer required," his words are out before I know what he's said. We all stand in awe, waiting for the inevitable to happen. Waiting for Sampson's immediate demise.

Tetlak's back tightens, but nothing more. The two stand staring at each other, sharing some unfunny inside joke. Tetlak growls again and again, Sampson refusing to flinch. He remains stoic, unconvinced to fear the reptilian monster glowering down. Then, as if Sampson couldn't push it any farther, adds a concluding. "Thanks again for your help."

This has to be it.

Sampson's death.

But nothing's happening. Tetlak's eyes narrow further, annoyed heat trickling down his whiskers and onto his clutched talons. They're grasping something. The cord. It's wrapped around his wrist, sliding through his scaly fingers, his talons, and down to the ground around Raj. He tugs with the clenched fist and her paralyzed body starts to move. Turning, he tugs Raj behind him and through the parting crowd, disappearing with her into the evibola across the way.

Sampson approaches Reid quickly. "If we don't disperse now, he'll return with Norpe and Yerza. Maybe Beshib."

Reid nods, whispering in a voice I can barely hear. "We'll clear out but I have to talk to Tucker and the RCs."

"All?"

Reid nods then hesitates, "At least Tucker. The others will have to know at some point too," he takes a heavy, exhausted breath, "...was hoping we'd have more time. More information for them."

"They'll want to hear from you."

Reid nods again.

"Tonight?" Sampson asks.

Reid shifts his weight. "Tomorrow. Camp. Tucker first, then the others. We'll regroup in my bunk for tonight."

"Better make it mine," Sampson says.

Reid nods. Spinning, he addresses the silently stunned mob, "No need to further debase the Kings tonight... they've done that enough themselves," he twirls his finger in the air, ordering. "Rogues head out."

"So soon?" a voice asks. It belongs to a pair of blazing blue eyes attached to a husky body with copper hair and a devilish grin. Mantis stands next to him, his dark spheres smiling at me. "I thought the fun was only beginning?"

"Hasn't even started," Reid offers a wink, motioning for the bodies on the ground to be taken care of. He whistles a three toned note and the two that fought Raj's captors surround me, the bronze- haired man residing on my left and Blondie on my right. I watch Reid take off to join Sampson along with Clark and Vix, who have also appeared.

"Don't look back," the one on my left says, walking me toward the North Wall, "give them the view they deserve."

"They don't deserve anything. Except a kick to the nuts."

"Well... leave that to Rox," he laughs, keeping his words to a whisper. "How's your head?"

"Hurts..." I rub the crown, which still aches from the blow. I must've been knocked out hard to lose consciousness for a minute.

"Tried to get to you in time but Zarwin was too fast. Don't worry—I took care of him."

"Thanks," I glance over. "And you are?"

"R.C. Able."

"R.C.?"

"Rogue Commander. But you can call me Able. And that's R.C. Jace," he motions to my right.

"Hey," Blondie grins. "And just Jace for me too."

We reach the stairwell and meet Pratt on the first step. She looks at me with wide, dubious eyes, shocked I actually returned. Glancing between Able and Jace, she whispers, "We're going to a new bunk. The others will meet us there."

When we get to the fifth floor, Clark joins our group. About twenty arches down, he uses a sirolla to open one of them on the left. "In here."

Entering Sampson's bunk, I'm surprised.

It's the same tiny compartment with a small window, single chair and bed of large, navy rags used for blankets. But, unlike mine, a host of babeebs light his room, two to three in each corner and about ten hanging from the silvery Gizella roots in the center. Able and Jace look around too, amazed at all the light while theirs, I'm sure, only contains the standard two to three.

It's already a tight squeeze with the five of us so I'm unsure how any more will fit. Able, Jace and Pratt claim the bed while Clark and I stand on opposite sides of the room. Arms crossed, he glares at me, anxious to say something. I ignore it for a minute, but with the emerging headache and the guilt rising from what happened with Raj, I can't take it anymore.

"What?"

"I'm sure Reid told you to stay put."

" _Excuse_ me?"

"You ran into that mob like an idiot. What'd you expect would happen?"

I glance at Pratt and the other two who seem as interested to know my response as Clark. With a huff, and, trying to keep my aggravation contained, I admit through clenched teeth, "I expected to save Raj."

"Good job," he rolls his eyes.

"Where were you?" I push myself from the wall. "If I recall, you didn't show up until _after!_ "

"Yeah, that's because Pratt went for Reid first. She tried his room but _obviously_ ," he stresses the word, trying to make an uncomfortable point, "he wasn't there, was he?"

"That's _my_ fault?"

"It's not mine. Pratt was too busy, running around trying to find Reid, she forgot to send Irie for me. I only found out because Sampson came to get me."

"Again..." I step closer, halfway across the room as my hands ball into fists at my side, my tone growing icy. "How is that _my_ fault?"

"And then," he ignores my question, "all you had to do was not intervene. And what'd you do?" he rolls his eyes at the idiocy of it again, "Painted a target on your back for Tetlak and the Kings. If Reid was trying to keep you a secret, you just announced it to the world."

There's truth in his words, but just as a flicker of guilt rises in my stomach, reason returns. Knowing Raj's safety was questioned—that's what mattered. Gathering up my remaining nerves, I shoot him a glare that could kill.

"First of all, I'm nobody's secret. And Mantis already has his own idea of who I am..." I shrug sardonically, "so, cat's out of that bag on that one."

"This is true," Able adds in the background.

"Secondly," I step closer to Clark, "Raj was in trouble. That's all that's important. Not your little games," I glance at the two Rogue Commanders as if they were on his side, "so I'm not about to apologize for doing what _I_ thought was right. You don't like it? Bitch to someone else!"

Sampson arrives as I spin back to my wall, Reid, Vix and Tucker entering after him. Vix takes a seat on the bed next to Pratt as Reid and Tucker hover near Clark's wall, Sampson taking a place next to me. With the room completely compressed now, the new attendees feel the tension in the air.

Sampson addresses it first. "Everything all right?"

I shrug and everyone else remains silent.

"Okay..." Sampson's soft voice goes on, turning to Pratt. "Was Irie notified?"

She shakes her head, ashamed.

"It's fine," Reid says, walking toward the center of the room, "he'll be notified tomorrow. Now what happened? Who was on patrol?"

"Simon and Merritt," Able is first to answer, "I guess Pike tried seizing Raj on her way back from Leisure Time. They tried holding them off but more Kings showed up."

"Raj was screaming," Jace shakes his head, for once his indelible grin erased. "I had Pip send word to the Rogues and then tried to help Simon and Merritt."

Reid turns to Tucker. "How are they doing?"

"Could be better," he shrugs, arms crossed with the same expression as Reid—a mix of anger, frustration and exhaustion. "Could've been worse. I think Merritt took a hard one to the ribs."

"From?" Able asks.

"Ike."

"Crap..." Able mumbles, shaking his head. This is bad.

"He went down fast," Tucker agrees with the dismal news, "but... he'll live."

"By Ike?" Pratt gasps. "He could've killed him!"

Able shakes his head. "Tucker's right. I saw the hit. He'll live."

"And the others?" Reid goes on, "how many injured and how bad?"

"A few," Tucker reports, "not more than some bruising. Maybe a few broken limbs."

"Pratt," Reid says, making his way toward Sampson's bed. Under it, he retrieves a small glass bowl which has the same dark color and clear, smooth consistency as the square sheets of dried gibb for transport. Handing the bowl to Pratt, he motions to Sampson's door. "Make the rounds. You know what to do. Jace, go with her."

"On it, Boss," he moves from the bed along with Pratt, both leaving the room.

Once they've gone, Reid turns to me. "How's your head?"

Rubbing the throbbing crown, I lie. "Fine. Don't even feel it."

His eyes flicker between mine, knowing I'm holding back but he bites his lip, accepting my answer. He turns to Tucker and the others, "And Raj? How did she fall on their list?"

Able clears his throat.

"Yeah?" Reid asks after a minute.

"It was Perry," Able clears his throat again, "when Raj failed to report Fallon's interactions with you," he sucks in a breath, "they turned her over."

I feel everyone's eyes on me, my face reddening with shame. Did I do this? Did I cause Raj's capture? The air stills for a moment, Reid holding the room in apprehension of what he'll say next.

"I think what needs to be decided," Sampson intervenes, "is a time and place for this discussion to further unfold in less cramped conditions. And I'm sure," he's speaking directly to Reid now, "you'd like to include the other Rogue Commanders?"

"Sampson?" Clark starts, a trace of whininess lingering.

"Camp's the only place with enough room and privacy," he turns to Reid, "...if you feel it's time?"

Reid inhales, securing his chin with his pointer and thumb. He locks eyes with Tucker and Able, considering. "Tomorrow, beginning of Leisure Time. You two plus Jace. We'll meet here."

"You want to keep the other RCs out of it?" Tucker steps forward, keeping his voice low as if hoping the comment would stay between them.

"Yeah," Reid nods without hesitation. "They'll find out when we have more information to share."

Tucker accepts his answer, retreating the step.

"And that goes for everyone," Reid spins, making sure we all heard him. "We'll meet here, beginning of Leisure Time. Able," he turns to him, "let Jace and Pratt know. Also..." and he's considering now, "...Griffin."

"The Client?" he blinks.

Reid nods.

"You got it, Boss," Able offers a weary smile.

But Reid focuses on me, lighting me up. He looks like he wants to say something but holds his breath instead, a slight flicker of disappointment in his eyes. Without breaking contact, he speaks over his shoulder. "Tucker, Able—take Fallon back to her room."

Clark shakes his head disgustedly, a motion Reid doesn't miss. He casts Clark an angry glare and the boy instantly freezes, going white. But I can't see anymore. Able and Tucker have gathered to either side of me and are ushering me out. I don't have time to offer Reid a final glance before finding myself in the darkened corridor again, the long row of crimson doors on my right.

We walk in silence for a bit, ascending the stairs as Tucker and Able continually look around. Finally, unable to take the stark quiet any longer, I turn to Able on my left. "We can still save her, right?"

"Who?" he frowns, "Raj?" By the look on his face, I already know the answer. But he confirms it anyway with a defeated sigh, "No."

"Really? No _possible_ chance?"

"If Tetlak has her," Tucker shakes his head, "there's nothing we can do."

"Maybe we can find out where they're keeping her..."

"It's upstairs," Tucker sighs, "and we're not allowed upstairs."

My mind swims. Maybe I can get my hands on something that could _force_ Jeb to take me to her. But what? And _how_? Suddenly, Clarence's face flashes in my mind. Could he help? _Would_ he? And does he even know what's happening here on Harrizel? Where he's taken me?

"I'm sorry, Fallon," Able interrupts my thoughts.

"Why are _you_ sorry?"

"I know you want to help her. It's just..." he shrugs, defeated again, "... not possible. Once someone's snatched, they're snatched. That's it."

"But what about Hinson?"

"Who?" Tucker raises an eyebrow.

Oh, that's right. They took the pill. They wouldn't know Hinson. I think of that night out by the ruins and watching as Tetlak, Yerza and Norpe dragged her lifeless body. I think of the blue tint of her skin and the canal gutted across her stomach. And her eyes. Glazed over. Gone.

Is Raj next?

"Yeah, there's nothing that can be done for her now," Able shakes his head with an honest frown. "Poor kid."

"And it's because of the Kisses? That's why she got snatched?"

Both nod.

We arrive on my floor and start heading toward my door. "Do you know who all the Kisses are?" I ask.

Both nod, again.

"So you'll be able to know if one's tailing me?"

They exchange glances but Able answers, "...Yeah, we'd know. But none of them will come near you now."

"Why?"

"There's no point. We know who they are and they know who you are so there's no reason to spy."

"And who am I?" I pose. Able makes a face as if it's silly of me to ask, but remains silent on the matter. "But you guys don't use them anymore?"

They exchange glances again, nervously now. Tucker answers this time. "Nope."

"Why?"

"You have a lot of questions," he throws a look at me.

"Just trying to understand."

"Well... we're here," he says, arriving at my door.

Punching in the six symbols, I step through the open archway, throwing them a look over my shoulder. "Thanks for the escort. Will you two be alright?"

Able snorts while Tucker merely rolls his eyes, "We'll be fine."

Before they start to walk away, I lean on the doorframe, "Should I ask Reid about the Kisses?"

They both stop, rigid. A long minute passes before Tucker turns to me with a chest full of air. "If you do, do it only after he brings it up."

"Okay..."

"Trust me," he turns without another word.

"It was nice to finally meet you, Fallon," Able smiles before catching up with Tucker in the darkness down the hall. I retreat into my room, plop on the bed and try to make sense of everything that's happened. But before I can, the soft feel of the linen takes me away.

#  Chapter Thirteen: Review

He's in the doorway to their home, watching his grandchildren play. They trip over roots and run over cobblestones, through the grass and behind their home. But on the other side it burns. Wailing and screaming and crying erupt, everything boiling in flames. It's charred. Burnt.

Silence as it fades...

Three wet glasses appear on the plastic yellow tablecloth. The lady with the red bandana drinks from hers as a pair of older, feminine fingers flicks the end of a cigarette. She pulls back, inhaling as the end lights a brilliant orange. But it's just her mouth. Her face, still unclear, falls to the background. But her wrinkled lips grasp the cigarette, pulling from it. The edge lights orange again and she flicks it in the ash tray just as he reaches for the third glass.

Everything fades to a new woman. She stares at me with those silvery glass eyes, her white hair breezing around her. Her mouth never moves but she's calling my name. Calling for me, trying to awaken me.

Fallon...

Her eyes grow wider, fiercer.

Fallon...

Suddenly they turn white, bright light pouring though, blinding me.

Fallon!

All day and I can't get the dream out of my head. What does it mean? Who is the woman in the red bandana? And the other one with silver glass eyes? And what do they have to do with _me_? I've been going over it, trying to piece it together but every few minutes last night's events come storming back and with it, Raj's pleading eyes that scar me with unimagined guilt.

"Excuse me," Ergiloff's voice booms overhead, "will the following persons please report to the labs _immediately_..." He lists fifteen names, twelve females and three males. A few are here in the trench with me. They drop their Senz into buckets and step out of line when called. Ergiloff concludes his announcement. "We appreciate your cooperation in this matter."

Those called line up behind Tetlak who takes them into the Castle.

A body occupies the space next to me. Two black clamps sink hard into the gibb, tossing the mold into the bucket at his feet. He keeps himself close, sneaking a peak with quiet words. "No hair pieces today?"

A solid minute passes and I'm not sure why, but I don't return the look. I continue digging as he goes on, answering the one question that's been on repeat since it happened. "There's nothing you could've done."

Silence.

"Fallon," he stops digging and leans in, "look—I'm sorry. If there was something I could do, I would."

Silence.

He exhales, "What do you want me to say?"

"I don't know why I'm still here," I say through gritted teeth, still focused on the trench's blue wall. "Why we're _all_ still here. It doesn't make any sense. What do they want with us?" I glance at him. "We have a way out. We need to leave."

He thrusts his Senz into the gibb again. "It's not that easy."

"I'm not sticking around to hear my name called, or be attacked by Mantis because he sees you talking to me."

"I told you," Reid leans in with a low growl, "he won't come near you."

I throw my Senz into the bucket and make for the ladder. How does he not get it? Mantis is the smaller issue here. The Dofinikes are keeping us for some reason and now they're starting to take more. They already have the Kings grabbing people and anyone who tries to run away disappears. But now the lists? How many of us do they need? And for what?

"Fallon," Reid tosses his Senz in the bucket to come after me. He's at my side in seconds.

"Did the war even happen?" I whisper.

"What?"

"I can't remember a single thing. It's like," I exhale, "everything's a blur before this. It used to come to me in bits and pieces but now..."

"Fallon."

"And if I can't remember what happened, then how do I know what's real or not? How do I know I haven't always been here? That this place—"

Reid rounds in front of me, stopping us half way to the giant metal pole. "You need to be quiet. They're probably watching us right now," his eyes flicker to the Castle, "look, I know you want answers and you'll get them. But give me some time. We have the meet up with the RCs later. Let me see what I can do for later this week."

"What do you mean?"

"Just let me see what I can do..." he leaves without giving me a second to respond.

***

I'm the last to arrive.

"Here we are then," Sampson gestures me toward the others outside his door. "Now, a quick word of caution—move fast and keep close. Take the wrong turn and you may never find your way out." He glances to Reid who offers a slight nod. "Let's be on our way then."

Sampson leads us through the darkened corridor to the invisible outline in the purplish-black marble. With two Callixes and four babeebs spread among us, the shadowy stairwell's cloaked in soft shades of gold. Reaching the ground, we filter into another passage, Reid and Sampson leading the way. Vix, Clark, Pratt and Griffin follow and then it's me. The three Rogues keep to their silent curiosity, trailing behind as Reid and Sampson take tunnel after tunnel.

Eventually we reach Camp's entrance and we all pile in. Pratt and I share a seat while Clark, Vix and Griffin claim the bench opposite us. Tucker, Able and Jace group near the entrance, just off from Sampson, their eyes large as discs as they gaze around the hollowed wooden room. Reid closes in behind them, completing our wide, lopsided circle. Ten in total.

Walking to the center and without speaking to anyone directly, Reid asks, "What do we know? We know people are being taken. You can see this with Raj. Hinson. What else do we know?" his eyes dart around. "They're drugging us. Erasing parts of our memory. If they weren't, you'd know who I meant when I mentioned Hinson a moment ago. You've known her until very recently, when you were instructed to take a pill to protect you from berry juice poison."

"Load of bullshit..." Clark mumbles to himself.

Tucker's eyes flicker to mine at the mention of her name. He looks back to Reid in confusion. "Erasing?"

"These lists they've started... it's a new way of Snatching."

"How do you know?"

"What're they doing in the labs?" Reid crosses his arms, "treating for the berry poison, right? There's no such thing. Those people aren't coming back."

"They're Snatchings in the day time. For all of us to see. And they go willingly," I tap my temple, " _smart_."

"So wait..." Tucker shakes his head, pinching the bridge of his nose, "they're increasing the Snatchings... but then erasing them?"

"Pretty much," Clark sighs, arms folded as he leans against the wooden wall across from me. "Welcome to Harrizel."

"Yeah but they haven't asked us to take a pill in days," Able tries.

"They will."

"How do you know?" Jace asks.

"People will start wondering where their friends went."

"Yeah, but they'll never ask it aloud," Able tries to reason, looking between the two other Rogues, "they'll assume they were snatched at some point."

I shake my head. "They'll catch on. Strange how _every_ person from the list _suddenly_ went missing. No, the Dofinikes are smarter than that. They need to keep us coming to them willingly."

"And the list sizes are growing," Pratt chimes in.

" _Exactly_ ," I look around the hovel, "they need more of us and quicker. Regular Snatchings alone aren't doing it anymore."

"But for what?" Able turns to Tucker, then Reid, "We still don't even know _why_ they're taking people."

"The _why_ ," Sampson interjects, "although very important, should be second to the _how_ and _when_. Regular Snatchings and now the lists," he turns to Reid, "By the Rogue's calculations, have the Snatchings increased as well?"

"They're about to. Up until now, it's been standard, but the King's are recruiting. All the fights lately—it's part of their process. Let a bunch of Arrivals beat the shit out of each other." Reid turns to Tucker. "Have you heard anything more?"

"The same."

"Any possible leads?"

Tucker shakes his head.

"How do you know when the Snatchings are going to occur?" I ask.

"We don't," Tucker huffs, "we try to anticipate it, _prevent_ it... but we never know for sure. Our Scouts and Clients only secure so much info. Without the Kisses' assistance, it's more difficult."

"Have you ever been able to stop one?"

"A few times, yeah," Tucker nods, "when our Clients have been able to pull the Kings' Clients over. They give us their assignments and we give them protection, food. They're afraid though, obviously, so it doesn't happen too often."

"Make sure the Rogues and Scouts don't take any more of the pills," Reid tells Tucker.

"They won't. But they'll have a hard time believing."

"Why?"

"Never heard anything like it before."

"What about the food?" Pratt asks. "They know about that."

"What do you mean?" I turn to her. "What food?"

"If you call it that..." Jace mumbles beneath his breath.

"What the Dofinikes give us," Pratt explains, "that nasty stuff. It's like oatmeal porridge with pieces of bark in it."

"Notice how you can't really remember your past anymore?" Able asks, "Anything before this—your family, the war, after the war—you can't remember it, right?"

That's what I was telling Reid earlier. I used to think about it all the time, about the life before this. About the famine, the long winters and desperation. But recently, it's been blurry. Nonexistent. The images seem unclear now, like a fading memory of something too distant to feel real.

"I don't..."

"It's because they're planting those memories," Able sighs, "you've stopped eating their crap so you have a hard time remembering anything about the war."

"Or anything in general..." Clark grumbles again.

"Think about it," Able says, "try and focus on one memory. One _single_ memory. You won't be able to."

I try, hoping to find a family member, a friend, _someone_ I possibly loved. But nothing. I'm unable conjure a single face. And that sad fact, among all the rest, depresses me the most.

"I can't."

"That's because you haven't consumed the drug in a while. For you, for _all_ of us," Able glances at the others, "it's non-existent."

"But there are people who still—"

"Everyone who ingests it still believes in the war."

"We're not saying it didn't happen," Tucker shrugs, "just that the memories of it are planted."

"But why plant memories?" I ask, the obvious answer hitting me. Of course! They're covering up something with them. And if it's not the war, then what is it? "So if the Rogues know about the food," I look between Reid and Tucker, "why wouldn't they believe the pills? If the Dofinikes are drugging us, why is this so unbelievable?"

"It's never been done before. They trust you, Rox," Tucker says, turning to him now, "and they'll follow you anywhere, but they might need something to really make them _believe_ it."

"Anyone know Delan?" Reid asks.

Everyone nods but Griffin's the only one to speak up. "I do..." he reddens, "I used to see her for a while."

"She was one of the ones called on the lists. Once they ask us to take the pill again, she'll disappear."

"And?" Clark asks.

"Fallon has something of hers."

"What," Clark casts a scowl my way, "did you steal it?"

"No," I glare. "It's proof. When everyone else won't remember, it'll be the proof they need that she exists."

Reid, who's gnawing at his thumb, turns to Tucker with a shrug. "What do you think?"

The Rogue Leader exhales, "How do we do this?"

"Fallon?" Reid looks to me. "You had something in mind when you asked for her hairclip?"

"Okay..." I adjust to the sudden attention I wasn't prepared for, "this is what we do—the next time they ask us to take the pill, take turns having each Rogue return her hairpiece through your Scouts. They won't know who she is and they'll trip over each other trying to find someone they won't know anymore."

"So we don't tell the Scouts?" Able turns to Tucker then Reid.

"Not at first," I explain, "first wave, all the Rogues need to be on board. Once they believe it, then go ahead and pass it along to the Scouts."

Reid nods at this, turning to Tucker, Able and Jace, "Sound good?"

All three nod.

"Maybe _you_ should tell them," Tucker turns to Reid, "they've been waiting to hear from you about all this anyway. Plus, they have other concerns."

"Like?"

"Dodging Jeb and the others. They've been getting on their backs about where we're getting the food."

"Thought they didn't care?" Reid frowns.

"Well now they do and they're being _persistent_."

"Tell the boys to be... _unavailable_ ," he risks a fleeting glance to me. "They'll leave you alone if you're busy with the Rebirth."

"I like the sound of that," Jace grins.

"You would," Able stifles a laugh.

"I can't help that girls throw themselves at me," his grin widens, "maybe an example is in order and since I'm Rogue Commander—"

"Guys," Tucker glances between them. "We done?"

"Sorry Rogue Leader," Jace and Able say quietly together.

"Do what you need to, but plot and plan on your own time," Tucker looks between them, "just make sure the Rogues do this."

"Yes Rogue Leader," both reply.

Tucker shifts back to Reid, the last of an eye roll disappearing. "Not a problem."

Reid shifts his weight, gnawing his thumbnail again, "You're right. We need to address this. _All_ of this," he thinks for a moment, pacing in the small bit of space available, "Set up a meeting the next night they ask us to take the pills. We'll have it here," he glances to Sampson and then to Clark who sighs annoyingly. "Do as Fallon says—have each Rogue send their Scouts after Delan. Let her know we have something of hers."

"Is it safe to have them all come here?" Vix asks Sampson.

"I don't see why not," he meets Reid's eye, "if you think it's fine."

"Why wouldn't it be?" he turns to Tucker, "but I want no questions asked about this," he gestures to the hollowed trunk.

"They'll be curious."

"Of course," he smirks at the obvious statement, his tone going rigid with authority. "No questions."

Tucker nods, glancing at Able and Jace for confirmation of the order as well.

"So..." he rubs his hands together, "let's work on the pills and Delan's existence. We'll go from there. Good?"

The three Rogues nod.

Reid scans the rest of the room, the others agreeing to the plan. He looks to me last, his intense focus setting me ablaze. It only lasts a second and he's moved on again, gesturing for the door. We all file out of the burrow in one orderly silent line and once reaching the Castle, Reid heads up to my room with me.

"This another escort?" I lean against my door, crossing my arms.

"Maybe," he shrugs, his mouth set in one indelible grin. "Did I answer some of your questions?"

"Some."

"Well..." a lump rolls down his throat, "maybe I can help you out with some more."

"Meaning?"

He gestures to the door, "You going to invite me in?"

I punch the six symbol blocks and we enter, Reid shutting the door behind him. Suddenly, we're trapped in this tiny space again, and I'm both nervous and excited. I stroll forward, trying to keep indifferent about our proximity, especially since the last time we were here...

"I was going to give you a chance to ask me whatever you want," Reid cuts off my thought, "about anything."

"Really?" I arch a brow.

"Really," he grins, crossing his arms. "Anything you want. Anything," he amends, " _I_ can answer."

"Okay then..." I quickly search through all the questions I've had, especially since learning his identity. "History. Tell me about the Rogues. How did this start?"

" _That_..." he slinks to the bed, "is a loaded question," he glances up to me with a sigh and a wink. "I'll try to give you the short version but even that'll put you to sleep. _Basically..._ " he props his elbows on his knees as his mind drifts back over some distant memory that plays across his features. "The Kings were established by the time I got here. I befriended a guy named Grisham... or maybe he befriended me," he thinks to himself, considering the possibility now. "I didn't know who he was at first, the power he held. But I liked him..." his eyes narrow, contemplating some great argument within. "He seemed like a good guy... an _honest_ guy. Anyway, after a while, he finally told me what they did. _Who_ they were. Said he'd like to bring me in. Said he thought I had potential. And for a while, I liked being a King. Until..." he shifts, his sights deeply focused on the floor. "I found out our other purposes."

"What were you doing as a King before? What _do_ Clansmen do?"

"It ranges.... protection, enforcement, whatever's needed. Lots of stuff."

"So you found out about the Snatchings?"

He nods. "I was doing a good job. They thought it was time for me to take the 'next step.' I..." he loses his words, playing out the scene as his face goes white. "...I was outnumbered. If I refused, I would've been killed. I _had_ to," the guilt in his voice is palpable, his dark eyes lowering to the ground, shamed.

If what I've been feeling for Raj sits like a heavy burden in my stomach, I can't image how Reid must be taking it. Not only unable to prevent it, but to be _part_ of a Snatching? To be that much more responsible?

"So what happened?" I sit down beside him.

"So I left," he exhales, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees again. He runs his fingers through his hair and pauses, focusing on the golden shadow of the babeebs. "If it wasn't for half the Clansmen coming with me, I'd probably be dead. Grisham would've seen to it. But I understood the system well enough, and we started a new one. A new _Clan_. And we made it our goal to stop the Snatchings. Food practically dropped in our laps..." he hesitates, "... and we went from there. Just built up to what you see now."

"And you ran it?"

He shrugs, dismissing his role easily. "Someone had to."

"They _listen_ to you."

"Because I was the first one to leave. They were all terrified of losing their source of food."

"And you weren't?"

Reid lowers his head, his voice softening. "Her name was Sadie... she was the same age as Pratt."

Bile rises in my throat at the thought. What must that have been like for him? To carry around that kind of weight every day? I want to reach over and comfort him but freeze. Is there any comfort for something like that?

"So... the Rogues..." I hope to pull him out of the deep, guilt-ridden waters he's fallen into. "Can I ask about them?"

He looks up with a nod. "Shoot."

"What's the deal with Clark?"

"He is _not_ a Rogue," Reid makes sure I understand this. "He met Sampson before I did... we're kind of stuck with him," he exhales, indicating he's as unhappy with the situation as I am.

Good to know.

"Okay. So Tucker's Rogue Leader and Able and Jace..." it's not really a question, but I'm hoping he won't notice. Maybe he'll just start talking and forget I'm here, unloading everything I want answered in one long monologue.

"...are RCs," his eyes flicker to me, "Rogue Commanders. Five in total, each in charge of a different unit. They all came over with me. Even the Scouts, but it was definitely worse for them. They needed constant protection and we had half the number the Kings did—still do," he thinks about it, "we recruited heavily in the beginning. So did the Kings. There were frequent ambushes on each other and for a while..." he rubs the back of his neck, "it got really bad. It was an all out war until Tetlak intervened."

"What happened?"

"He said we would remain two separate Clans. He'd see to it."

"Why would he allow that?"

"Said he liked to see us divided. With the humans at war, less possibility for an uprising."

"Charming."

"Tell me about it. _Plus_ , he wanted to see how we would pay for all our information. To this day, he still doesn't know."

"And that's why you go out gathering every night?"  
"That?" he arches a brow, "We'd have to gather all night to feed the others. No, the stuff we bring back is for ourselves."

"Then who stocks the Rogues?"

"Jothkore."

"Who's that?"

"One of our inside sources... it's probably best to keep his anonymity. At this point, at least."

"More than one, huh?" I catch his eye, his look heating me to the core. My sights sink to the floor as I search the thousands of questions still burning within. "Rox..."

"Yes?"

I glance up. "Why do you get a fancy title?"

"Sign of respect."

"As their leader?"

"Sure."

"Even outside the Rogues?"

"Whenever, I guess."

"How come _I_ don't have to call you Rox?"

"You're not a Rogue, are you?" he narrows his eyes, igniting the spark again. Slowly, he leans in, brushing his lips against mine, my entire body engulfed in this single flame caused by him. He withdraws, leaving me breathless, hungry. "I prefer you calling me Reid."

"Okay..."

"Anymore questions?" he asks against my lips. But before I'm able to respond, he has me back on my bed, his hands moving down my body. He moves to kiss my neck and there's a knock at the door.

"Motherfucker," he pulls back.

I sit up, wiping my mouth with the back of my hand. My heart is still slowing—my body still registering that his isn't on it anymore. With his sudden departure, I'm left cold, _bare_ and somehow, strangely alert to all the useless space separating us. I gulp, willing the thundering throb in my chest to slow, my organs to firm up and for everything to carry on as usual, and not the roller coaster it's still riding.

Reid makes his way to the crimson arch. He opens it and Able peeks through.

"Sorry, Boss. Rogue Leader needs you real quick. But," he glances to me, his face paling, "if you're busy, I can tell him..."

"It's fine," Reid looks to me with a heart-racing smile, "duty calls. I'll see you tomorrow, okay?" He winks and the two disappear, leaving me alone with his palpable absence.

#  Chapter Fourteen: Rogues

Lecture.

This is the part I detest most. Watching Beshib on that trunk, reminding us of our greed and cowardice. I bite my lip to keep from screaming, but that won't do anything, except keep from getting me snatched. Forced to hear his words, I dedicatedly tune them out, scanning the Auditorium instead.

Walker is a ways away and Sampson, Vix and Clark are not far from him. I keep searching until I find Reid, my heart sinking. He's not grouped with any of the Rogues but, to my dismay, stands coupled with the girl he'd been arguing with.

She has flawless ivory skin and her perfectly straight cinnamon-honey hair is swept into a smooth, cascading ponytail. A few strands fall past high cheek-bones and down to a wide, pouting mouth. She shifts closer to him, trying to close the distance as her sapphire eyes bat enticingly from time to time, trying to draw his attention.

I watch them for a minute, watching her watch him. The sight releases a violent spark in my chest but Beshib's voice finally breaks through my muting.

"I'm sure you're all curious as to why names have recently been called during Rebuilding. Yes," he paces the width of the glowing trunk, "I would think this odd as well. The _reason_ ," his voice projects with that typical tinge of accusing I loathe, "is because the humans have contracted a virus." The crowd erupts in a unanimous gasp before Beshib goes on, "We believe it originated with the berry juice. Now, our scientists are conducting routine check-ups to confirm how far it's spread. Let me assure you—there's nothing to worry about. We've only found a few individuals who've been exposed. They've been given the antidote and we expect to have them all released back to your care shortly. Until that time," Beshib goes on, "protect yourselves from contracting it. You'll find your pill in the same sleeve as before."

Without prompting, everyone around me takes it like ordered, swallowing the lavender tablet whole. I make similar gestures, keeping the pill locked between my fingers again. Feigning a gulp, I drop my hand to my side.

Once everyone has stilled again, Beshib raises his arms in celebration. "Wonderful. Shall Leisure Time begin?"

This is it.

The Rogues will be sending their Scouts after Delan with information on her possession. How soon will they find they've been sent on a wild goose chase? I search for Sampson or Pratt, unable to stop sneaking glances back at Reid and Ansley as they move along the West Wall. He's walking swiftly for the entrance, trying to put distance between them but she's at his heels, refusing to let him leave.

I shift closer from the opposite side of the Wall's opening, my eyes, like many others, trained on their scene. Reid, who keeps going, refuses to offer her the slightest glance until she stops, stomping her foot on the ground like an impatient child not getting her way. Finally, she screams his name—not Rox—atop her lungs, shattering the relative peace of the thriving Rebirth just beyond.

Things halt.

Reid stops, slowly spinning toward her with fists at his side. Her hand reaches up to stroke his cheek but he knocks it away before she's able. Her brows pinch sullenly but it looks like it's finally prompted a response from him.

A white flash of anger courses through me. I force myself to ignore it and move along the West Wall towards the entrance ahead. Bumped on my right hip, I glance over.

Pratt keeps to the slow, watchful pace with me, neither of us speaking. She attempts a smile, but after a moment, I realize my mouth refuses to repay the gesture. She sees this and answers automatically.

"Hey don't worry about her—he's over it."

"Huh?"

"Trust me," Pratt's face flattens, "he is. You coming?" she makes for the Wall's narrow entrance. I nod, following Pratt into the opaquely black entrance. On her feet, we take turn after turn through shadowy checkered passageways where Callixes and babeebs never appear. It only takes a minute but finally, after numerous turns, we end up facing a passage teeming with bodies.

Rogues.

They're packed shoulder to shoulder and stand like an army, waiting. Ten babeebs stretch above the thicket, illuminating the fierce bunch in golden hues. And suddenly, as if sensing my arrival, they all stop and turn, eyeing me as if I were some bomb set to detonate. I hold my breath, raking through their rough, unfriendly stares.

"Come on," Pratt senses my hesitation, weaving us a path straight through the tight pack of muscled male bodies. She doesn't need to ask. They part for her—and me—allowing easy passage through the claustrophobic hall. Each one watches, gaping with keen interest as I pass them. _So she's Fallon_ , it reflects in their guarded, inquiring eyes.

Am I what they expected?

We find ourselves at the very back—or maybe the front—Able and Jace already at the starting line.

"Ah—she arrives," Able jests, feigning a bow, "Welcome. You can still turn back you know. We're running late on departure."

"Why would I do that?"

"Well," Able grins, "who'd want to be around a group of psychotic looking butchers," he motions to the sea of Clansmen at my back, "Not to mention they reek. None of them—and I mean _none_ —use the oh-so precious free time to bathe from their day of heavy lifting. So give yourself five minutes and ask again. Although..." he shrugs, thinking about it, "best thing to cure that is a lady's presence."

"Then we should go find one."

"Aw..." he pouts, tsking me. "Someone's being modest."

I shake my head at the violent scene I have in store for the girl, who I'm pretty sure is Ansley. "Not as much as you think..."

"Don't believe it for a second," Sampson grins, rising from the opposite wall and enclosing our intimate group of four, "and really, Fallon, _shame_. You've very deserving of the word."

"Alright..." I glance around, eager to change the subject on my questionable etiquette, "his highness showing up anytime soon?"

Just as I ask, Reid emerges through the sea of tight bodies with Tucker at his heel, thanking each Clansman as they move. The slight path they weaved has been swallowed up behind them, packed with the herd of bodies all staring our way. They're all awaiting this meeting Rox has called.

He passes, tossing me a fleeting, questioning glance, wondering, perhaps if I'd seen anything.

I'm unsure how I want to respond, especially since I don't know what happened after we went into the Maze. Did she try something further?

...Did he let her?

My heart sinks and I count to five. Looking up, I find Able and lock onto him for security. Smiling at him instead, his mouth lifts nervously, unsure whether to repay the expression.

Much to Able's relief, Reid doesn't give it a second thought, already moving on to assist Sampson who's opening the door in the wall. Reid gestures everyone inside and Pratt, Able and I are first into the corridor. Pratt takes the lead while Vix, Sampson, and Reid spread themselves along the line of moving bodies to make sure no one gets lost in the labyrinth.

When we're outside the Castle's gate and Reid's far in the back with Tucker, Able finally makes his way to my side, casting me a stern scowl.

"So... trying to get me killed?" he cups a babeeb in front of us, lighting our path as we follow the silhouette of the Clansmen ahead.

"What?"

"Back there," he motions behind us. "In the Maze."

He can't be serious. "Scared of a little smile?"

"From Pratt, no, from you..." he gulps, really considering it, "...my life may not be worth much but I'd like to keep it."

"Don't be such a baby."

"It's not a compliment," he laughs nervously. "Trust me, I wish it was. It's self-preservation."

"You're joking."

"Wish I were."

Able switches the babeeb into his left hand, holding it out, "No one wants to be the guy who causes Reid to flip and leave again. He's just now..."

A Clansman bumps into Able in his haste to pass.

"Sorry Rogue Commander," he stops and bows.

"It's fine," Able nods him off as the Clansman moves ahead, into the glow of Pratt's babeeb up ahead. Able watches him for a minute longer before turning back to me with a whisper, "...He's just now starting to reappear. Up until a few weeks ago, he was inaccessible, _incognito_ —wouldn't even talk to the guys." Able lowers his hands, palm down. "No one wants to jinx this."

"Well what happened?" I press, "Why'd he cut off all communication?"

Able shrugs, his mind wandering to some memory, "Embarrassed, probably... the way she humiliated him."

"What do you mean?"

His mind dances around the scene, his mouth opening to explain. But then he looks up, startled to see me again. Was he about to reveal something he shouldn't have? He shakes his head in dismissal. "What? Nothing. Nothing."

"Who humiliated him?" I pull him to a stop, the light lowering between us. "Was it Ansley?"

A few Clansmen sweep by. They ignore us mostly, seemingly more interested in this underground Maze than a conversation between Able and I.

I shake his arm for a response. "Was it?"

"Yes!" he snatches his arm away.

"Why?"

"You must think I'm an _idiot_ to tell you that," he starts walking again.

"Not an idiot... a new best friend?" I'm at his side, arching my brows with high hopes.

He looks over, amused. "Don't you have one yet?"

"Still looking," I stop him again, "come on, _please_? Just tell me if he's still..." but I can't find the words to ask what I really want to know.

"He's _not_ ," Able shakes his head, helping me finish my thought. He starts walking again, "That's why you throwing me flirty grins isn't exactly beneficial to my health."

"You look tough enough."

"Against Rox?" he laughs at the possibility, playing over some distant memory, one that quickly makes him shudder.

"Aw..." I mimic his patronizing tone from earlier. "Someone's being modest."

He feigns a grin. " _Your_ safety is not in jeopardy."

"Says who? Mantis looked like he wanted to eat me."

"Maybe he does," Able agrees without hesitation. Fear must register on my face because he follows it up quickly, reassuringly. "I wouldn't worry about him though."

"I'm not worried."

"Well, you're tougher than me," Able gulps, his eyes large amber disks, "That's one scary bastard."

"But he's not actually in charge of the Kings, right?"

Able frowns at my knowledge, proceeding cautiously, unaware of what information Reid's already divulged.

"Right... but Grisham is laid back compared to Mantis," Able stares off a second, "Sometimes I wonder if Mantis is really in charge."

"Is he?"

"Has Tucker actually been running the Rogues this whole time?" Able narrows his eyes, "But really, depends on who you ask. Tucker thinks Grisham is still in charge... Reid might have something different to say."

"So... does this mean Reid's back with you guys now?"

"Seems so..." Able shrugs, "though you'd know before me."

"Meaning?"

His face flattens to a dull eye roll at the question, as if it was the most ridiculous thing to want answered. He speeds up, taking the light with him.

"...Just one more thing," I rush back to his side, ignoring his heavy sigh at my dogged attempts to keep the information flowing.

"Isn't there always?"

"How long were they together?"

"What?" he glances over with an uncomfortable frown.

"How long?"

"Come on," he shakes his head, moving faster, "haven't you exceeded your questions for the night?"

"Almost. Come on new best friend—how long?" I jump around in front of him, cutting off his path. He tries dodging around me but I sprint in front of him with each turn. Finally, Able sighs, stopping in defeat.

"Why do _I_ have to be the one to tell you?" he gripes, as if taking on the burden of the world, "If I lose rank because of you, we're no longer best friends."

"Deal."

He stops, and, with an exasperated sigh, admits. "Two years. But that's all," he offers an adamant hand swipe. "I'm cutting you off."

We head the rest of the way in silence. Nearly upon the burrow's entrance, Reid jets past as the line comes to a complete halt. We file in one by one and Able's right behind me, gesturing to the immediate left so we can watch as everyone enters.

"Listen," he keeps his voice low, "I like you for him so I want to help. This is a freebee," Able glances at me, then back at the entrance, "You're going to want to pay attention. This is probably the last time you'll see them all grouped together in one place like this," he motions to the entrance. With a cluster of babeebs hovering above his head, Sampson stands like a lantern. To his left, Reid and Tucker greet each Clansman as they trickle in.

Able's in my ear again, speaking fast but low. "You've got five divisions. _Assignments_ , _Tokens_ , _Enforcement_ , _Recruitment_ and _Supplies_ , each lead by its division R.C."

"Like you and Jace?"

"Yep," he nods, "but I'll get to us in a second."

Able motions to a husky American Indian with black hair done in two braids that fall over his shoulders. The plaits surround his angular brown face while white feathered earrings hang from both lobes. He takes Reid's hand in both of his, grasping it.

"Chief." Able whispers next to me.

"That's his name?"

"Well... that's what we call him. No one can really pronounce it. Starts with an A-Y..."

"He ever smile?" I ask as his hardened stare casts about, surveying the room. His sights lock on me as he makes his way to the opposite wall and folds his arms.

"It's a rare sight," Able whispers.

" _He's_ a rare sight." We exchange glances.

"Chief's the RC over _Enforcement_ ," Able indicates to each Clansman as they pass from the outside corridor into the hollowed burrow. "You've got Booker, Kenya, Simon and Merritt. Useful for scare tactics and if it comes down to it, _muscle_ , though all Rogues know combative basics. "

They emerge one by one, most reacting the same—ogling this hollowed trunk with wonder in their eyes and disbelief in their gaping jaws. Reid shakes hands with everyone, offering a quick pat on the back, greeting and thanking each personally.

"And then there's Harrison for _Supplies_ ," Able motions to a Rogue scanning the space with an impressive whistle. Leanly built, he's tall with light brown waves covering his head and lower half of his face. Behind him, two boys prod through, both somewhat short with dark features and devious, eager grins. "The Carpenters," Able explains, "Rooney and Drenz. Make you anything you need."

"Like what?"

"Brushes," he shrugs, tossing out the first things that come to mind, "shaving razors, dice, utensils, jewelry. You give them the order and they construct it from the gibb."

"So they can make _anything_?"

"Well... has to be approved by Rox, of course," Able offers me a fleeting glance, "Then there's Kelly. _Assignments_ ," he stresses, "...not to say one division's more important than the other but _Assignments_ is where we tend to obtain most of our information."

"The working with Clients and such?"

"Exactly. Kelly's Rogue Commander... also not a big smiler," he indicates the Rogue with jet-black hair, impossibly large muscles and an indelible scowl that looks carved into his face. He moves into the burrow, a line of boys behind him.

"You've got Niles, Werzo, Dowdy, Peel, Ando and Oscar, all on assignment, all in control of the Scouts," Able nods to himself before amending his statement, "except Pratt of course."

"What about Irie?"

"Him either. Both fall outside Kelly's jurisdiction."

"Why?"

He shrugs, crossing his arms. "Perk of being personal Scout to Rogue Leader and Rox."

"Okay... and where do you and Jace fit in?"

"Jace is _Recruitment_. Scans all Arrivals for possible threat or potential. With him," Able gestures to the back of the nearly filled room, to the two clansmen that entered before me, "Moss and Cramp. Quiet boys. Real people watchers... kind of fits the job description."

"And you?"

" _Tokens_. Importing and exporting."

"And who helps you?"

"Artisten," Able indicates the next Rogue entering the burrow. Reid takes his hand, welcoming him. "He manages exporting all goods to the Scouts and Clients. The curious, oh so stunned beefcake behind him is Looper. Among other duties, he keeps all Clansmen fed and supplied. Geppers and Dale work under Artisten and Hedrick and Vennis under Looper. That should be everyone..." Able stops, thinking, "all Rogues and Rogue Commanders at least."

"And where are all the girls?"

Able shrugs, "tough business being a Rogue. Rox didn't want any inadvertently hurt."

"Even under assignments? Is that still super dangerous?"

"Are you kidding?" he laughs, " _everything_ is dangerous. If we had any female Rogues, the Kings would go after them first. It's next a sexist thing—it's a safety thing."

"Okay..." I glance around the room which is overflowing with Clansmen. All together, they're a ferocious lot and suddenly, fear swells in my abdomen. As if he could hear it, Able leans over, gesturing toward their unforgiving faces. "You've got to _impress_ them to get respect."

"How am I doing so far?"

"Hard to say. You ran straight into that riot. Shows bravery... and stupidity. You stood up to Tetlak," he shrugs, "but Reid came to your rescue. Twice. I think it's all balancing on tonight."

I roll my eyes, the pit of fear in my belly racing my heart, "Thanks for the pep talk."

"Oh—is that what you wanted?" he laughs. "It's not complicated. They listen to Rox because he _demands_ it," Able narrows his eyes, suggesting the mere simplicity of it. "Do the same."

Sampson closes the door behind Dale, enclosing the hollowed trunk teeming with oversized Rogues. It's quiet, almost uncomfortably so, until the Clansmen start sharing wise cracks about the location and joking how they'd never get past the gate. Scanning the room, I do a quick count. Twenty-six clansmen. Not bad. And not including Reid. Twenty-seven in total. They range in age from mid teens to late twenties, with Sampson being, by far the oldest person in the room.

Tucker, Reid and Sampson still surround the door, exchanging quiet words, periodically glancing to the small bubble of space in the center of the room. The Clansmen's conversations grow louder and with it, their energy.

"Hey!" Tucker roars, offering a final nod back to Reid. Reid agrees to whatever was said and Tucker turns to the room, clapping as he circles the small space allotted for him. "Come on guys, hey! Settle down! Settle down... because _guys_ ," he lightens his tone as the trunk settles to quiet again. "We got company."

"Yeah!" someone shouts, igniting a chorus of whistles and cheers.

"Rox!" More chant as the hollowed burrow vibrates with energy, urging Reid's return. Finally, obeying their request, Reid exchanges places with Tucker and the Rogues go wild at seeing their leader. He takes the center, allowing them their cheers a second longer before lowering his hands, indicating for silence. They quiet themselves immediately.

"Hello, hello to all of you," he rubs his hands together and nods at his Clansmen with a shameful grin. "I haven't been around recently and I should have. For that..." he shrugs, slow to admit his fault, "I'm sorry. We've got some additional company," he gestures to Sampson, Vix and Clark, then to me and Pratt, "and yes, Pratt is here and _not_ out with the other Scouts. That will be addressed soon, but first," he moves around the circle, locking eyes with everyone as he passes, his hands raised, "as sworn Rogues, I know everything revealed tonight will stay here," he points a finger to the ground, no longer asking. "It will not leave this compound."

Chief shifts his weight, his feathered earring swinging. He casts me a quick glance, returning focus to Reid.

"Tucker's done an excellent job leading you in my absence, but things are changing," he surveys his audience, " _increasing_. The lists... the pills... It's past time we meet. Firstly, again," Reid strolls about the small space allotted for him, "we're joined by additional company. I trust that _you_ trust I have your best interests and those of our Scouts and Clients, in mind. Those here tonight not part of the Rogues are friends. Going forward," he cups his hands behind his back, "you'll give them the same respect and loyalty as you would _me_. Now this," he gestures to the hollowed tree surrounding us, "is a conversation for a later date and I _do_ appreciate your patience on that. There are more immediate things to be discussed so on that note, let's get down to it," he rubs his hands, scanning the room again. "You've sent your Scouts out without knowing the reason. You did this on Tucker's request—on mine. Why'd we ask this of you?"

"We were hoping you'd tell us," a laugh rips through the dimness. Half the room follows but Chief and Kelly are not amused.

"Harrison." Able leans over, reminding me.

"Well," Reid grins, "sorry to disappoint. I have someone else to explain that to you. It was her idea so..." he shrugs, gesturing me forward, "best she explain."

My heart stops, my body frozen.

He means _me_.

Tremors shoot from my abdomen to my heart and back again, every hair on my body standing. I have to do this? _Now_?

Able leans over, subtly whispering out of the corner of his mouth. "Time to shine, sweetheart. Remember, _make_ them listen to you."

Reid waves me closer, his eyes burning into mine. Can I do this? With his reassuring nod, I believe I can. It's the others that unnerve me. The others that look for fault, scanning me with a reproaching tone. It's their scrutinizing eyes, waiting for an answer I wasn't prepared to give.

Gulping, I exchange places with Reid. Slowly strolling about the space, I get the full view of my unenthused audience. I push the pounding of my heart down to the pit of my stomach, with all the other fear, where it can wait until I'm finished.

"Tough group of guys..." I clear my throat, shrugging as if talking to myself. "I bet your Scouts never let you down. Bet there's never been an assignment they haven't completed for you. Yet. You've asked them to deliver a message that we have something of Delan's. Right now, they're trying their best not to fail you," I pause in the center of the small clearing. "They _will_. This," I retrieve the clip from Pratt, holding it up so they can all see, "is hers. This is what you've sent them for. But each one will come back to you saying the same thing—she doesn't exist. Before tonight, it would've been an easy assignment, "but after ingesting the pill, it'll be the first one they can't complete. They won't be able to. For them, for _anyone_ that took the pill, she's no longer real," I pause so they understand what I'm telling them. "She doesn't exist."

" _Sure_ ," one of the Assignments says.

"So quick to doubt, Werzo?" Able laughs in my defense. "Guess that sounds about right, though."

"And if they succeed?" Kelly replies dully. The question's directed at Able but I'm still here, still leading this.

"They won't. Just _wait_ ," I demand attention again, locking eyes with the Rogue Commander. "When we go back to the Castle, get a status report. It should be simple enough to find one person, especially if _thirty_ people are looking for her."

"Meaning what exactly?" Werzo steps closer, "You've sent us asking after one girl. Why?"

"She was called on one of the lists. And she's not coming back. The pill is erasing everyone's memories of the people called on the lists. But don't listen to me," I place my palms up defensively. "You trust your Scouts—let _them_ prove it to you."

They all exchange glances at one another. I'm not sure if I should keep going but then Reid starts for the circle's center again.

"But why erase them?" he tosses out as we exchange places, "They need more of us. No doubt Grisham knows why, Mantis, _possibly_ , but we're at a disadvantage. They know _why_ , they know _who_ , when and where. It's our goal, as it's _always_ been, to possess the same information," he slows, holding each Clansmen accountable, "and it's more important now than ever, that we do. Once your Scouts confirm what _we_ ," Reid glances to me, "already know, alert them to the pill's designed use. Once they're on board, have them instruct their Clients as well."

"And on and on?" Tucker nods.

"No," I say. "It'll create a panic."

"They need to know," he glances to Reid for support.

"It'll create a panic," I repeat before Reid objects. "In fact, that's the _last_ thing you want to do."

"Well what do you suggest?" Tucker scoffs, not used to being challenged in front of his Rogues. The room shifts its focus to me, waiting.

"Not a panic. With panic comes chaos—a divided front against the enemy will kill us. Or worse."

"There's worse?" Clark grimaces.

"It could _always_ be worse. They could torture us. _Really_ torture us. You think we're living badly now? This is _luxury_ compared to what they could be doing. Think about it. If there's no memory of Earth's war, then there's no proof it happened. And if it didn't happen... then why are we here?" It's a question we've all pondered and as I look around, it's obvious no one's come close to answering it yet. "The longer we don't know, the more of us will die."

"So what are you saying?"

"Don't go spilling the beans. That will create chaos and that's the last thing you want."

Reid bites the tip of his thumb, still thinking. "All right," he finally nods to himself, settling the matter. "Let's keep it to the Clients and Scouts for now. We'll tell the others when we have more information. Now," he goes on, pacing again, "I've also heard concern about Jeb and the others asking after the food. What have you been saying?"

"That we don't pay them with food," Tucker replies, "and if we do, only what we can steal from the Kings."

"Do they suspect Jothkore?"

"Not that I'm aware."

"And how have the deliveries been?" he turns to Able. "Smooth?"

"Not an issue, Boss," Able says besides me, "except, Jothkore's been later than usual. He needs more time with the product demand growing."

Reid nods, pulling at his chin, "It can't all rest on Jothkore," he glances to Sampson, "we'll need extra hands out here at night. Fallon's already volunteered but I'll need a good amount more."

"I can help, Rox," a few call out. "I'll do it."

Reid whispers something to Tucker before returning focus to his Rogues. "Get with your RC and he'll speak with Rogue Leader. Now," he starts circling again, "as for the questions from Jeb. They'll leave you alone..." he smirks with a playful shrug, "if you're feeling... amorous."

"Anyone needing a little help," Jace offers around the room, "just come watch the master at work."

"Right, Commander," one of his own Rogues laughs, one of the quiet ones in the back, "no one wants to see you sucking face with _every_ Arrival."

"Not every," Jace clarifies, turning to Able with a wink. "Only the lucky ones."

"If they think you're busy trying to 'rebuild our species,' they'll leave you alone," Reid cuts through the chatter, commanding focus of the group.

"Didn't know it was that easy," Harrison chuckles. "Could've been using that excuse this whole time."

"Okay, well," Chief finally speaks up, clearing the room with the echo of his thick, husky voice, "these lists—how can we prevent them?"

Reid looks to Sampson, then back to him. "We can't."

"What happens if we're called?" someone asks.

"They seem to be calling more females than males," I offer, everyone's focus shifting heavily on me again. " _More_ than half. Seems guys are relatively safe."

"Why do they need girls?" someone else asks.

"They want us to mess with them and then they take them. That doesn't seem fair," Werzo jokes, "...or does it?" his laughter finds no company as it echoes in the trunk.

"Can you even _get_ a girl?" I raise a brow.

"Please..." he smiles, folding his arms with pride. "They fall into my arms."

"Only when pushed."

"Down kitty."

"Don't call her kitty," Reid shakes his head.

Everything goes silent again, especially as Werzo's face grows white. He lowers his eyes, then his head, keeping his voice soft and unchallenging."Yes Rox. Sorry Rox."

"It's not funny," Reid says to the group, "and they _have_ been calling males. Just not as many."

"So it might not have to do with gender?" someone asks.

"Might not," I agree, "but let's keep an eye on it. Has anyone kept a record of the names called so far?"

Everyone looks to each other as I turn to Reid.

"I'll have Irie track it," he says.

"But there's nothing we can do to prevent being called?" one of the Assignments asks.

"Just like there's nothing to prevent the Snatchings," I glance around the room, "except you guys."

"We need to know what the Kings know—that's the key. How are we on Clients?" Reid looks to Tucker, then Kelly, then Jace, "Anyone interested? Or willing to switch teams? What about Arrivals?"

Kelly shrugs, still with the indelible frown. "We've got a few in the works. Not enough to obtain anything significant."

Jace clears his throat, "We talked about the few Arrivals..."

Reid nods, remembering a conversation. He turns about in the space, addressing the entire group again, "Well, when you talk to your Scouts later, make sure to let them know we're looking. The more help we can get, the better."

"And what do we say to them when they return?" Chief asks. "We're supposed to tell them she doesn't exist?"

"Tell them the truth," I answer automatically. "That they can't remember her, that they ingested the pill to erase her."

"And that we used them?" Tucker asks.

"For the good of the Rogues, for _their_ good. For our Clients," I glance around, " _your_ Clients. You needed to know for sure before you could confide it in them. If you're really as close as you say, they'll understand."

"And when they ask what we can do about it?" Kelly tries, glancing between Reid and I. "What do we tell them?"

"What do you tell them about the Snatchings now?" I ask. "All we can do is try and stop it."

Chief nods as the others exchange looks around the room.

"Any other concerns?" Reid poses.

Silence greets him for a second before Harrison clears his throat uncomfortably. "Perry's been... approaching us more recently. Persistent little witch..." he gulps back an uneasy chuckle, "how do you want us to proceed? Continue to keep the Kisses at bay?"

Reid stops to consider, the weight of the room pouring down on his response. After a solid minute, he's made up his mind. "We need to know what the Kings know. Break the ban with the Kisses, do what you need to. Tucker, if you could address Perry with any concerns, I think that'd be best."

"Absolutely."

"All right, next," Reid throws out to the group.

Silence greets him for a solid minute.

"Will we be meeting out here again?" someone calls from the back.

"Where is out here?" someone else asks.

" _What_ is out here?" another voice throws out.

Reid nods, "We'll meet again soon when there's more information. And yes, here. This," Reid gestures to the wooden walls of the hollowed trunk around us, "is the only safe place we can talk. The Maze has too many ears and there's no way we can all squeeze into a bunker. We'll meet here and discuss where and what this is at a later point. But tonight, let's focus on your Scouts."

The room responds with silence.

"All right," Reid sums up, "if that's it, I'll hand it back over to Tucker."

"You staying Rox?" someone calls hopefully from the back.

"Rox!" another belts, a few hollers erupt in support. And suddenly it's an all out chant.

" _Rox, Rox, Rox, Rox, Rox!"_

"I..." Reid starts, glancing toward me. I offer him an encouraging smile as he gulps, refocusing on his Clansmen. "I only have the Rogues' best interest at heart. Whatever my brothers' need of me... I'm here to serve."

The room erupts in a chorus of whistles and cheers, the Rox chant still going strong. Tucker, who stands across from me, looks relieved, although unsure of whether or not he's required to speak. Coming to his rescue, Reid starts again, still circling in the space.

"Your Scouts are probably ready to return. It's time we head back and put Fallon's," he gestures to me, "theory to the test. Clark, Pratt, Vix," Reid requests, "if you could secure the tunnel navigation."

The Clansmen rise and the group begins filing out. Reid and Sampson resume their post by the door, wishing each member a personal farewell. With everyone gone, Able and I pause on our way out of the hovel.

"Congratulations, Fallon," Sampson smiles, "you did wonderfully."

"You think?"

"You spoke your mind and convinced other's of your reasoning. I think you did very well."

"Able told me I had to gain their respect," I glance over to him, "I had to _impress_ them."

"Weren't you planning on doing that anyway?" Sampson shoots me a sly grin, "Of course it must be difficult facing such an intimidating group."

"Intimidating?" Able scoffs, "The Rogues? What would make you say that?"

"Hey, I have to catch up with Tucker and go over a few things," Reid looks to me with a frown. "Will you be all right?"

"I have Sampson and Able. I'm sure we'll make it back."

"I'll see you in the Auditorium," he winks, taking off into the tunnel.

"I guess being Rox keeps you pretty busy," I glance at Able.

He nods, "You have _no_ idea."

Sampson, Able and I use two babeebs to light our way back, discussing the various Rogues and the success of the meeting. It takes the same twenty minutes or so, but by the time we reach the Castle and Sampson's finished navigating us through the Maze, we come upon it—a small knot of people just down the West Wall and in the middle, Reid and Ansley in an all-out shouting war.

"Shit..." Able mumbles next to me.

I barely hear him. I'm glued to the scene, which includes several Rogue Clansmen and a small cluster of very pretty girls surrounding Ansley. Tucker stands between them, holding his temple as Jace looks on with the first glare I've seen. He catches my eye and starts ushering the other Clansmen away, most of which have already started leaving on their own.

Tucker pleads with one of the girls, pointing at Reid and Ansley who have barely calmed down. They're still yelling but with no one paying obvious attention, they're freer to speak directly. She goes to touch his cheek but he grabs her wrist and throws it down. She tries again, and again, he throws her hands off him. She makes one last attempt, her mouth going a mile a minute and finally, with a reproachful sigh, he allows her hands to rest there.

"He's just..." Able starts.

"It's fine," I lie, quickly looking for anything else to occupy my attention. I turn to Sampson, "Mind if I pick your brain a little?"

"Hmm?"

"I've been dying to ask a few things. I'd uh... really appreciate it."

"Yes, Fallon, I think that'd be rather nice," his smile widens as I look up to him. "Your bunk or mine?"

"Yours," I start, my mind already racing with the questions I have for him. Sampson begins to lead us away, the thought of his bunker and the extravagant display of babeebs rising to the top of my questions, "Because last time..."

A body jumps between us and I'm thrown off balance. I look up and find Reid with half his back turned to me, facing Sampson. "We need to talk."

"Oh—good timing," Sampson throws an encouraging glance over. "We were just about to go..."

"Sorry, Fallon," Reid shakes his head, "not tonight."

"Why?"

"Just not tonight, okay? I need to talk to Sampson about some things. I'll see you tomorrow."

"We'll reschedule," Sampson frowns, Reid already ushering them away. They head for the stairs up to the Courtyard, neither looking back. What could be so important that they need to talk now? It must be important. Otherwise it would've waited...

"Weird," Able mumbles next to me.

"Do all RCs keep sirollas? Or is it just Reid?"

"No, we all do," he opens his sleeve pocket, where the Dofinikes have been keeping the pills. Retrieving the same clear sphere, he holds it up, "In case there's an emergency and we have to get into someone's room."

"Mind if I borrow it?"

He frowns. "Why?"

"I just—I need to. You'll get it back tomorrow. I _promise_."

Reluctant, he hands it over. "Okay, but don't—"

I take the sirolla and make off after Sampson and Reid, flying up the same darkened stairwell and into the Courtyard after them. Now, would they go to Reid's to discuss or would Sampson's be safer? A thought hits me—perhaps they're not going to either. Perhaps they're going back to Camp. Can I make the journey by myself?

But then I spot them.

Five flights up.

I take off and am on their floor in less than a minute. Slowing, I approach Sampson's door. Grasping the sirolla in my right hand I pause, holding it in the air. Is this right? What I'm about to do? Walking right into his room, into their discussion, demanding to know what's going on? What if I'm not supposed to know? What if it's terrible? A million questions race through my mind as the intent of my original mission gets blurred. I came here with a dogged pursuit. And that was...

To learn the truth.

My hand shakes, the sirolla jerking slightly as I hold it close to the crimson archway. Suddenly, thousands of tiny white hairs extend from the sphere, latching themselves to the door. Six blocks of symbols snap back, locking into place and the door opens.

I rush in, hearing one word. The word, which takes a moment to register, is like an afterthought; a dessert to be considered later, after the present entrée is consumed. And it's taking me a moment to digest what I see—

Pacing, on one side of the closet-sized room is Reid, flabbergasted by my appearance. On the other end, towering high above him, looms an unfamiliar Dofinike who stares at me with wide, surprised eyes. He's enormous, nearly the same size as Tetlak, but he doesn't exude the same pompous, threatening stance. This Dofinike looks rather puzzled, like he's forgetting some obvious etiquette. He takes a step toward me but I back up instinctively, kicking into survival mode again.

I don't have time to scream.

Reid is on me in an instant, one hand over my mouth, the other wrapped around my waist, keeping me from fleeing. He pulls me toward him as we fall to our knees, the door slamming shut. His hand tightens as he repeats the word from before, sitting me up to look at the Dofinike.

" _Sampson_."

#  Chapter Fifteen: Sampson

I don't understand.

Reid's got his arms locked around me like a steel cage, my chest heaving under his inch-proof grip. But I'm imagining it. I must be. There's no way I'm seeing what I am.

The Dofinike's whiskers slowly retract on themselves, zipping up to disappear in the morphing flap of skin covering his face. Dark pine seconds ago, it fades to fleshy tan as his yellow, reptilian eyes retake the friendly robin's egg blue I've grown fond of seeing.

Is it really true?

Is this Dofinike Sampson?

I want to scream. I want to scream it all out. All the lies, all the secrets. A moment ago, a Dofinike was in this room and now, it's only us three.

"Fallon," he tries, stepping toward me, "let me explain."

Squirming under Reid's grip, I'm confused why I'm reacting this way. I trust Sampson. I _do_. Maybe it's too much right now. Maybe with everything else going on, I was hoping Sampson would be the one constant. The one thing to keep the fight going. But with this new development, I'm not sure he's even part of the fight anymore.

Reid's grip on me tightens.

" _Relax_ ," he whispers in my ear. "It's Sampson. _Sampson_..."

It's my fault. My punishment for busting in when I wasn't welcomed, for intruding on a private moment—one I should've never known about. He hushes me with his hold, dropping his mouth down by my ear.

"You have to trust me and you have to trust Sampson. He's on _our_ side," Reid's voice creaks at the word. "He's our inside source."

Pausing, I try on his meaning. I guess it does sort of make sense. Sampson's vast knowledge on things, his courageous banter with Tetlak as if there was nothing to fear, as if a Dofinike was not intimidating to him. And why would it be if he's also one? But why pretend? Why hide it?

"There's a lot you don't understand," Reid says as my eyes shift to Sampson. He's sitting on his bed, gazing out to the window.

"Fallon," Sampson looks at me, "we've been meaning to tell you our secret for some time. I'm sorry you found out this way—I didn't think you'd be ready to handle this. Can I trust by your silence that you are?"

Reid's hand drops from my mouth tentatively, ready to spring back to place if need be. I nod, nearly motionless. This is Sampson. _Sampson_.

"Very good," he smiles, redirecting focus to Reid over my shoulder. "It might be best to disclose your side of things before delving into mine, yes?"

Reid offers a quick nod before shifting me toward him. We're still on the floor, sitting now as Reid's mouth hangs open, empty words falling out. He closes his mouth, reforms his thoughts and starts again.

"I told you food dropped into my lap after I left the Kings," he tilts his head from side to side, "that's... half true. I went out looking for it first. Had to find a way to feed everyone..." he clears his throat, taking a minute to compose himself. "The night I left, I waited until midnight, when I knew everyone was back in their rooms and Tetlak and the guards were upstairs. I took off through the gate and into the jungle like you," he glances at me momentarily, "but... I didn't make it as far. I fell into a Plausinis bush. Got shot with enough venom to kill me. I was..." he nods, the details of the scene reforming behind his eyes, "...done for. Or, would've been... if Sampson here hadn't found me," Reid tosses a gracious smile to his friend.

"But isn't the gate rigged?"

Reid nods. "And I was tagged. But Sampson removed it. And I knew I could trust him. Whatever he told me...." Reid pauses, his mind running away with him again, to another time. Eyes glazed in the distance, he continues after a second. "He showed me the tunnels out, how to escape the Castle, how and where to gather food. For a while," Reid nods, admitting it, " _we_ were feeding the Rogues and Scouts. Every night after Leisure Time, we'd head out, gathering Gupples and Marowines for hours and bring them back. Finally," he rubs his hands through his hair, "Clark and Vix started coming with us. They knew Sampson's secret too. There was debate in telling Pratt... but we needed all the help we could get.

"If it wasn't for Sampson, for his knowledge..." Reid throws him a thankful smile, "for his _humanity_ , the Rogues would've been done. We wouldn't have had a way to pay our Scouts, our Clients... we would've starved."

With this he looks to Sampson again, whose focus has drifted to the window. The last statement hangs in the air as a long, silent moment passes. What's he waiting for? Does he still think I can't take the truth?

"Why are you pretending to be human?" I ask.

"I have no choice," Sampson continues to gaze out the window.

"What do you mean? How can you have no choice?"

"It's very easy when you're overruled, you see," his words are slow, giving each one the attention it deserves. "The obligations you must keep. I'm here, on Harrizel, taking the form of a human because I _must_. Because it is the will of my life to be bound to your kind, rather than mine," a subtle tinge of anger hangs at his last word. "So believe me, Fallon," he concludes, finally turning to look upon me with a heavy, morose gaze I don't expect, "while I do enjoy your company, I'm here out of necessity rather than preference."

"But why?"

"It's our own fault. Our love for your kind," he glances between Reid and I, then back to the window and the captivating night, a sight he seems to sink further into. "Clarence and I didn't mean for it to happen. _Any_ of it. Truth be told, we were too arrogant—too superior—to accept the obvious risk involved. As if it couldn't touch us, as if we were out of its reach...

"It started off innocently enough, as most things do," Sampson shifts ever so slightly, his robin's egg eyes fixated on some point lost in the sky, "when we first learned of you. A culture so vastly different from our own but then, so very much the same. What were you strange creatures and why had your fate been so irrevocably intertwined with ours?" at this he offers us a glance, as if still trying to figure it out. "But we were young—what did we know of life? Of _consequences_..." he nearly whispers the last word, his eyes returning to that same point outside. A long, quiet moment and then, "We started bringing you back."

"In the beginning, it was just a few and only those who'd die otherwise," he glances at us again, to make sure we understood his meaning. "What good are you as rotting corpses when here, you could have a second chance? We only took those already lost to that life—we gave them a new one. We thought we were doing the right thing," a large lump rolls down his throat. "Soon, with so many humans, a small colony began, thriving alongside the Dofinikes. We were friends... some of us family. It was wonderful really... but then it all changed."

The Ruins. I feel them now, feel their pull as Sampson talks about it. My heart's beating with excitement, anticipation but I force myself to sit and wait. It's his turn to talk.

"The Leaders found out what we'd done. It was treason, with the prophecy..."

"Prophecy?" The word slips from my mouth.

"The risk," Sampson nods, "what causes your kind to be irrevocably intertwined with ours—the prophecy _sullio pf ticrocki gagazinoff_ — _human conquering Dofinike_. It's known throughout our people—our world. You see," he says, taking a heavy breath, "within the Dofinike culture, we are all related. Not in the family dynamic you're accustomed to. We have that, yes, but also, our _species_ is related to one another. With every new Dofinike born, we strengthen individually. With every one deceased, we weaken. We are related to one another on more than just a physical level. It is one of the spirit," he waits a moment for me to digest his meaning. "So the prophecy of _human conquering Dofinike_ —to some—has been depicted as a war _against_ the Dofinikes _by_ the humans." Again, he waits for it to sink in, unleashing the horror I know to follow. "So, when the Leaders found our colony, Reuzkimpart ordered the immediate cleansing."

At this, Sampson lowers his head, his words hanging in the air.

There's so much I want to ask. So much that needs clarifying. The thoughts all jumble into each other, fighting for the front of the line. Finally, I blurt out the first question that drops to my mouth. "Who's Reuzkimpart?"

Sampson glances up. "One of the Leaders. Curiously enough, the one who discovered the prophecy. The rest of the Leaders weren't receptive to the idea of killing the humans at first. Reuzkimpart—out of cowardice—convinced them it was best for Dellapalania." As if anticipating my question, Sampson answers automatically. "Dellapalania is our home planet. Harrizel—here," he glances around the bunker, taking in its sordid sight, "this is a moon. Supposedly _Moon of Hope,_ but who knows what that means anymore?"

Sampson glances out the window again, "With Reuzkimpart's persuasion and the threat of the prophecy, the rest of the Leaders agreed and ordered the extermination of all humans," his words soften as he considers what he's saying. "Generations of families lost. Friendships, all shattered forever... I'd been labeled a traitor, aiding the humans who were here to conquer us. Conquer _us_?" he repeats to himself, seeing the scenes replaying in his head. "The humans were massacred. Children. Elderly. And _I_ was the traitor?

"Only Blovid—one of the other Leaders—had any sense. He'd been against the extermination from the beginning but Reuzkimpart had everyone convinced. Somehow, Blovid managed to persuade the others to stop, to see the malevolent slaughter of their actions, but by the time they agreed to halt, there weren't many left. Clarence was missing and only a handful of humans were found, most badly injured. It was decided the remaining humans would be spared, but have their memories erased. They'd be put to work in what would now be used as a research base, until finding a better use for them. It was done. All humans forgot what happened and were put to work under a clever lie Reuzkimpart and Beshib devised. All aiding Dofinikes were to share the same fate, to become slaves, working alongside the humans they so deeply cared for."

It takes a moment but with all the obvious questions still hanging, Sampson goes on.

"Clarence came back of course. He'd never admit where he'd gone—what he did. For his resistance, he was given an especially cruel task—to bring all new humans here, to a fate unbeknownst to us. You see, in the last few years, Reuzkimpart has ordered more and more humans to be brought over. But why? What's the point unless you're being utilized for something? And he's not having Clarence select the humans like _we_ did—only rescuing those who have no other way out. Clarence has a quota," Sampson sighs at the idea, "he must bring a certain amount of humans here, delivering them to a knowing lie..." he stops, pausing and looking up at us with grief in his eyes, "Can you imagine what that must be like for him?"

"So the war...?" I ask.

He shakes his head, "Never happened. No, you're here on Harrizel because they _want_ you to be. Because you serve some purpose. One," he turns to me, "even _I_ don't know."

Then it's true. All the conspiracies, all the lies—I've been right this whole time. But there's so much to take in, so much to grasp. The Dofinike prophecy. The near genocide here on Harrizel. The ruins. My connection to it all... to what Sampson described. Why didn't Reid tell me about any of it?

"Fallon," Sampson's weak voice continues, "I wish there was nothing else to reveal..."

Holding my hand up, I signal for silence. Sampson obeys the request, glancing at Reid who seems content on the direction of the conversation. Finally, after a deep exhale, I nod.

"Vix is also a Dofinike."

"And Clark?" I croak. I'm not sure I could take Clark as a ten-foot tall power happy reptilian.

"No, no," Sampson shakes his head. "Clark is like Reid and yourself, a clever but curious human."

"Don't know about clever..." I mumble under my breath, sorting through my thoughts before looking up, "...and Pratt knows all this too?"

Sampson nods.

"There are so many things I want to know."

"Of course," Sampson nods, "how could you not?"

I run through my checklist quickly, finding my key clues. "The prophecy?" I try, causing Sampson's brows to rise. I go on, fueled by the energy in the air, "You mentioned a Dofinike prophecy."

"Shall we accept discussing another time?" his face scrunches in disappointment. "There's really too much to reveal and this is not," he glances around, "the ideal location."

"You talked about connectedness. Stronger and weaker."

"Good questions Fallon and definitely discussions needing to be had but ideally..."

"Explain it again," I demand, "real quick. I don't understand what you mean by spiritual. Like you know what each Dofinike knows?"

"Something like that," he shrugs, "like we can sense what others are sensing. A connection to one another."

"Tied to memories?" I probe further.

Sampson shifts uncomfortably, "Yes, at times. But it's mostly used for present communication. For instance," he sighs, "Clarence informed me his shipments will start increasing."

"Increasing?" Reid and I exchange nervous glances.

Sampson nods. "They've doubled his quota."

"And we have no idea what for?" Reid tries. "Has Clarence heard anything? Has Beshib told him anything?"

"Nothing," Sampson shakes his head, "except to bring more."

"And does... _Jothkore_... know anything?" I try, quickly attempting to catch up with their level of knowledge.

"No," Sampson shakes his head. "He's only an upstairs guard. He wouldn't know."

"How many guards are there?" I ask.

"Not as many as you'd think. Not as many Dofinikes on this base as they'd _want_ you to think. They make it all too easy for you, actually. What with your real memories here, I'd imagine—"

"Our _memories_?" I gasp.

"Oh yes, they're here..." Sampson glances around, considering his bunker deeply. "Somewhere, on Harrizel."

"How is that possible?" How is _any_ of this possible?"

"It's the same way the other pills work," he quickly explains. "Each pill controls part of your brain. There are pills stored here that contain each of your memories. Each of your past lives."

"And you have no idea where?" I shift the question between them; hoping one will have the answer. But both shake their heads. "The others need to know."

"The Rogues?" Reid asks.

"And everyone else. If they knew who they really are, if they knew what was _really_ happening, they'd be more inclined."

"To?"

"Fight back."

Reid and Sampson exchange looks. They've talked about this before.

"Come on, we can't do _nothing_ ," I glance to Reid. "Especially now. Every day I have to talk myself into staying here. If there's a way we could leave, we could actually fight back, we need to do it."

"As I've said," Sampson agrees, "there aren't as many Dofinikes here as they'd have you believe. Your numbers more than triple ours and not all of us are against you."

"But we can't just tell everyone," Reid shakes his head. "If you leak the information too quickly, they'll panic. Just like with the pills."

"Tell the Rogues, then. When there's a plan in place, we can tell the rest, but we at least need _them_ on board."

"We can set up another meeting at Camp," Reid looks to Sampson, "you can disclose everything."

"I think that'd be ideal."

"When?" I ask.

"Soon," Sampson nods. "The sooner the better."

#  Chapter Sixteen: Ellae

I've been working outside for hours and I still can't wrap my mind around it. Not everything, at least. What's bothering me most is that Sampson, a Dofinike, doesn't even know what's happening and he's our best hope. The fact that Sampson is a Dofinike is also pretty huge.

And then there are the ruins. Why are they so—

Something flashes past.

It has wings and maybe even legs, tiny and black and thin, like charred toothpicks. I'd call it a bug, but it was bigger than that, about the size of my hand—did no one else see it? But everyone's facing their walls, scooping out gobs of gibb in silence, undisturbed.

I must be seeing things. I get back to work, thrusting my Senz into the gibbed wall when it—whatever it is—flies past again, right in front of my nose. It's taunting me. Willing me to see it and not, to question my faith in its existence. I keep still as a tiny introverted voice speaks for me.

I see you.

After a second, it flashes by once more—but there are two this time. They flutter past with racing speed, still unwilling to offer a solid look. What do they want? And why does no one else see them?

"Hey," Reid whispers, distracting me.

"Hey."

He throws his Senz into the blue wall. "Tonight you'll come with us. To gather food."

"Good."

"Meet me at my room after Leisure Time—only a handful know so it's not public knowledge," he inches closer, keeping his voice low as he speaks into my ear. "Twelfth floor, sixteen from the Northeast stairwell."

"I thought Pratt was picking me up?"

"Not tonight," he shakes his head. "It's important you know how to find me. This time, I'll take you."

He leaves as quickly as he arrived. I watch him go, watch his body move through the others, everyone adjusting to him. No one wants to challenge Rox. Even the ones not involved in either Clan know he's someone of importance. It's obvious the way everyone acts around him. The way they see him coming before he arrives, the way they stiffen at his approach.

Reid sails through the trench and Ansley attaches herself to his hip. My blood boils but Able's here, taking Reid's spot. He grins, aware of my discomfort just over his shoulder.

"Don't even worry about it," he starts digging.

"What's her deal?" I glare at the scene behind him.

"Can't accept she blew it, I guess. Keeps thinking he'll take her back. He won't," Able assures me, " _no way_. Plus, all the Rogues hate her so if he's serious about resuming his post..."

"She was the reason he left, right?"

"Yup," Able tosses his scoopful of gibb into the bucket between us. "What she did to him... and she still thinks she's got a shot."

"And she doesn't?"

"I mean...." he hesitates, "the two of them...they just have a lot of history. I think she's banking on that."

I glance over his shoulder to Reid and Ansley arguing. Reid's digging, tossing heated scoops of gibb into the bucket at his feet, while Ansley is doing her best to explain something with her hands. Able turns to see, looks back and rolls his eyes.

"Seriously, don't worry. I could understand if she tried again before you showed up. I think she was hoping he'd crawl back to her," he laughs at the impossibility. "Yeah right."

"BACK OFF!" Reid barks, everyone turning at the sudden disruption. Ansley stands frozen as Reid storms off.

Able and I exchange looks before Ansley casts a loathing glare my way, heading for the ladder.

"Eek," Able grumbles under his breath, "she's pissed. Might be good to steer clear."

I dig for a moment longer. "She's a Kiss, isn't she?"

"Well, you didn't hear it from me."

"Come on... what happened?"

"I can't tell you that. Not until Reid does," he looks at me like I'm dumb. "He'd literally _kill_ me if he found out I told you."

"That bad?"

"Let's put it this way..." Able clears his throat, "I think you're cool and all, but I'm taking a big risk talking to you. If I was smart, I'd ignore you like everyone else, pretending I don't see you—that your female body has _miraculously_ escaped my notice..."

"Oh..." I toss some gibb into the bucket, suddenly heartbroken for Reid. And for everyone to know about it.

"Yeah, _oh_ ," Able narrows his brows. "You noticed he only sent Pratt..."

I _did_ notice it was always Pratt, but for different reasons. It never dawned on me he'd had a whole network at his disposal and could've used anyone of them—Scout, Clansmen or Client—to bring me the food.

"This is an emergency Lecture," a voice breaks over us. It's not Ergiloff like usual. The voice is stern, cautious, looming. It's belongs to Beshib. "Please report to the Auditorium at once."

"Crap," Able searches the trench's nearby occupants. He ushers us along, his sights on someone in the distance behind me. "This can't be good. Come on."

"What do you think it is?" I spot Pratt over his shoulder. Wide-eyed, she stands rigid in a sea of movement. I gesture her toward us and she springs forward, weaving through bodies.

"Who knows? But if Tucker doesn't know, it means Reid doesn't... basically this is _new_ , straight from Beshib."

"Great," I cement my feet to the ground, "because he always has something good to say."

Able glances back at my hesitation, just as Pratt joins my side, her confused eyes shifting between us, looking for an explanation. But Able only shrugs and leads us toward the closest ladder. There's already a huge hive of people waiting to climb out. Able surveys the crowd on both sides, locking eyes with someone on each.

Finally it's Pratt's turn. She climbs out and I follow, Able right behind me. Hoards of people sweep past, heading for the Castle and we join in, seamlessly, rolling with the wave.

It's quieter than normal.

Everyone moves in eerie silence, not with the usual whispering and innocuous interactions that usually accompany the beginning and ending of Rebuilding. It's different now. No one wants to speak, to draw attention to themselves. Apprehension soaks the air like fog and it's hard not to breathe it in. I glance back at Able. He's a few paces behind me, and his focus keeps shifting between the Castle ahead and me. A bit away, Chief moves to his left and Jace glances around to his right. They're all scoping, scanning the grazing herd.

A million crazy thoughts race as I pass through the open portcullis. Is this a trap? Has Beshib finally decided to kill us all in one swift action? Or will he be taking half of us away, right here and now?

We spill into the four openings and into the darkened Auditorium below. Tetlak motions us in faster, gesturing with his three pronged staff. Keeping Pratt close, I grasp her hand, roping my fingers with hers. Someone shoves past, knocking into a few girls. They cause a small panic which quickly dissolves itself at Tetlak's inspection.

We're in near darkness.

The Auditorium is lit by less babeebs than usual, with only a handful in each ceiling corner. The majority hang below the main Gizella roots in the center over the trunk, illuminating it like a spotlight.

We're swept ahead but Able cuts across in front of me, motioning to the West Wall. I put Pratt between us, following her through the packed mass as more bodies filter in. We arrive near the Maze's entrance and have a back, right view of Beshib who assumes the trunk, still gesturing in the last of the lot. It's not this crowded during Leisure Time because half hide in the Maze while the other half dance away their fantasy of the Rebirth. Even during Lecture, it's never been this chokingly tight.

Irie runs through the crowd, dodging frozen bodies. He's gone again in seconds, disappearing in the thicket of people.

"Was that a message from Reid?" I ask.

Able shrugs. "Most likely."

I think of the way people parted when he strolled through the trench. "Are people afraid of him?"

"It's not that they're _afraid_ ," Pratt dismisses the statement, claiming the explanation for herself. "They respect him. _Plus_ ," she adds with a shrug, keeping her voice low, "they know what he's capable of."

"What?"

She glances at Able for his opinion and he simply nods.

Leaning in, she speaks in a rushed whisper. "When he left the Kings, they didn't just _let_ him go. No one just _leaves_. Grisham wanted him dead. And because no one had ever left the Kings before, he wanted to make an example..." she pauses, wincing at some horror playing behind her eyes. "Grisham wanted everyone to know what happened if you suddenly became 'unhappy.' Even the Scouts had to go..." she lowers her head, shaking it at the thought. "He had Reid placed in the middle of us. Then announced that anyone who wished to leave would have to survive the clan— _each_ member. But, to make sure no one cheated, Grisham offered the winner the honor of being his second. After that," she gulps, "they started lining up."

I cover my mouth at the horror of her words.

"Reid is an amazing fighter, you know, so the first couple, he knocked out pretty quick. Of course the guys with the _real_ chance let the others go first—you know, to tire him out—but each one that came at him, he knocked them down. He _won_ ," she says, excitement flaring in her face before it turns down. "But he took a few nasty hits and... it wasn't looking good. Some of the guys started yelling for it to stop, to just let him out but Grisham wouldn't have it. He said it wasn't fair to 'abandon their Clan.' But then Reid started back, said he wouldn't do it. Said he wouldn't snatch anyone," she thinks about it. "The way he talked to Grisham, spitting blood like the last sixteen fights hadn't fazed him," she shakes her head in awe. "What a sight. He formed the Rogues right there if you ask me."

"What happened?"

"Mantis went for the kill and started an all-out fight. It's like the Clan split right down the middle. Reid ended it. Said there was no point in so much bloodshed," Pratt shrugs. "Anyway, after that, every Clansman and Scout knew what Reid did. What he's capable of. That's why they call him Rox. It means unbreakable."

I look to Able who nods along. "Pretty much."

"But you guys call him Reid."

"I _never_ do and Pratt's his personal Scout. Besides Tucker and whoever else you guys seem to know, it's Rox to the rest of them."

"So again," Pratt sums up, "not afraid. Just respectful."

Able shrugs, mumbling, "...A _little_ afraid."

"You're such a baby." Pratt rolls her eyes.

"That's what I said!"

"Neither of you ladies would ever have to take _on_ Rox," Able shakes his head, "so you don't get it."

"I apologize for pulling you away from your dedicated work," Beshib's velvety voice snaps me back to the present. "But there is news to share. With all the survivors Clarence has been finding, I've ordered an in depth, investigatory search of your planet... and I'm please to say we've found more! Many, many more!

"Plenty doubted this would result in anything more than outrage for what your kind did to itself. _However_ ," Beshib tosses a piercing stare around, "it seems as though you persevered. You _survived_. For all the damage you've done to yourself, you haven't lost the will to continue and that," he grins, "that's the very thing we need here. Clarence will be making multiple drops throughout the day and they'll be arriving in large groups. Space will be limited, but with our near completion on the upper levels, I believe we can make it work."

Lie after lie after lie. I glance around, scanning the naïve faces that look to Beshib, some with hope, to solve all their problems and bring them the salvation they've waited so long for. Some look with uncertainty, as if they want to believe him but know they shouldn't. The rest already know he's lying, so they listen with their own agendas. What can they gain from this sudden change of events?

Beshib surveys the room, "This is a wonderful day for humanity. And of course," his encouraging words turn somber, "a day to remind you of the selflessness of the Dofinikes. The Dofinikes, who have rescued _you_ , clothed you, sheltered and fed you. You," he's talking to each one of us now, accusingly as normal, "a suicidal species. Ready to die for nothing. Ready to destroy your planet. But," he extends a finger, his voice growing lighter at the change of topic, "perhaps a second chance at survival, yes? It's your responsibility to get the new Arrivals settled, to keep to Rebuilding as normal. With all that the Dofinikes are doing for you, working day in and day out for cures, antidotes, it is _expected_ that all new humans be attended to and cared for by their own kind. Remember, a quick acclimation is best for everyone involved..." and with that, he glances at Jeb quickly, offering the slightest of nods. Beshib turns back to us, raising his arms in victory. "It truly is a great day for humanity!"

Beshib withdraws from the trunk, landing near the South Wall and behind the massive hoard of bodies with one momentary leap. Jeb is in his place in seconds, assuming the spotlight on the glowing trunk. He's speaking but I tune him out.

Instead, I replay the facts.

The Dofinikes want us here for a reason, for some purpose and even Sampson doesn't know what it is. So far, they're only taking us in small groups or if need be, one by one. But they won't bother with us if we're busy Rebirthing our race...

"You may return to the Rebuilding now, thank you," Jeb's smiling brightly, motioning gently toward the exits. "Your cooperation is highly appreciated in this time for rejoicing."

"Multiple drops?" I hear over my shoulder.

Pratt and Able turn to find Reid, hoping for something, some sort of answer to all this. But Reid keeps his face impassive, still trying to figure it out himself.

"And in large groups," I add.

"Sound familiar?"

"Unfortunately."

"Listen," he pulls me back, whispering into my ear and letting the others move ahead. "I have to talk to Tucker and Jace about Recruitments so I'll be busy for the rest of the day. But I'll see you after Leisure Time, right?"

I nod.

He offers me a quick wink before moving through the crowd with ease, disappearing in seconds. I'm shuffled along by the current, which shifts me toward the closest stairwell. Almost there, I feel something—that familiar sensation of being watched. Scanning, I find Mantis standing as the herd moves around him. He's glued to the marble floor, his stiffened arms hanging determinedly at his side, his large, dark eyes centered wholly on me.

My stomach drops.

Weaving through the bodies around me, I ascend the stairwell and force myself to keep composure. I'm in the middle of everyone—what's he going to do? But once in the Courtyard, I toss a glance over my shoulder and see him still moving behind me. His dark eyes are set on me, sending my pulse racing. I gulp, forcing myself forward when I notice Jace a ways up, walking slower than someone with his long-legged stride should. But I take comfort in his presence. If Mantis tries anything, at least he'll be nearby.

Passing through the portcullis, I head for the trench. Casting one final glance behind me, I sigh in relief to find Mantis is no longer there, but instead, Chief is surveying the area, his long, feathered earring swinging as he turns his head, scanning. I head back to my spot in the trench line and lose myself in my thoughts.

***

I'm at his room.

Exactly sixteen doors from the Northeast corner on the twelfth floor. I have no idea if I'm early or late, but I'm here, so I knock twice on Reid's crimson arch and it instantly flies open. He grins, excited to see me and I melt inside.

"Come in," he gestures, "we'll head out in a second."

I follow him in and he closes the door behind me, glimpsing at me with another sheepish grin.

"What?" I laugh, feeling almost giddy myself.

"Nothing. Just been looking forward to this."

"To what?"

He shrugs but doesn't answer, moving through his room which is nearly identical to mine. Two babeebs hang beneath the silvery Gizella branches that snake across the ceiling. A bed with heaps of worn navy rags sits in the corner and a window, a little mirror and a chair decorate the rest of the space.

"What?" I glance around. "No fancy crib for Rox?"

He scoffs, "Please. The only special treatment I get is the Dofinikes turning their heads when I conduct business."

"And why do you think that is?"

"Because without me, there'd be no Rogues. Without the Rogues, there'd be no division and that's what they want," he moves around his room again, looking for something."Dofinikes want to keep us a divided front. As long as the Kings and Rogues remain at war with one another, the humans will never be a united force."

"Have you thought of joining forces? Reestablishing—"

But Reid is already shaking his head. "The Kings work for Tetlak. They're part of the problem. They'll sell us all out before we'd be able to establish peace talks. No," he says again, ducking under his bed, "there's no point."

"What are you looking for?"

"Uh..." he shuffles the navy rags, something clinking in the folds. His face reddens as he picks up a solid glass flower with a cluster of long, heart shaped petals. It's the same color and consistency as the sheets of dried gibb carried in transport. He holds it out to me. "I had the Carpenters make it."

I pinch the stem between my fingers as I look to Reid.

"Lame, right?" he runs his hands through his hair. "I thought about bringing you the real thing but uh, they'd dry out and die. This way," he glances at it, "it'll never wither."

I'm staring at the glass flower, completely lost for words.

Reid exhales, crossing his arms over his chest. "Come on, say something. You're killing me here."

"Uh..." I gulp, heat erupting within. "Thank you?"

He runs his hands down his face. "I knew it. It was dumb."

"No! I just..." I glance at the flower in my hand, "...I didn't expect..."

"It's not like I can take you out on a date. I just thought..." he clears his throat, avoiding my eye as he glances around the room. "I don't know what I thought. Anyway," he shrugs, "it's for you. We uh," he plants his hands on his hips, "we should probably get going."

"Okay," I place the flower back on his bed, "can I pick this up later?"

He nods, leading us out of the room and down to the Courtyard in silence. We meet up with Sampson and the others in one of the tunnels that lead out into the underground roots. Everyone stands around, lost in small talk until Reid and I emerge under Sampson's lantern of babeebs.

"Let's go," Reid instructs, leading the way with Sampson at his side. We move in relative silence through the underground tunnels but halfway out, I make my way to Able's side. He grins at me but I don't return the expression. I'm still deciding what I want to say.

"Reid gave me a flower."

"Yeah..." he glances at me, "I know."

"Your idea?"

"Uh..." he laughs, "I think it was a collaboration. Jace, Tucker... even the Carpenters tossed around a few ideas and that's what we came up with. Why?" he frowns. "You don't like it?"

"No, I do. I just..." I shrug, "I wasn't expecting it. I think I hurt his feelings."

"Rox?" he laughs. "Takes more than that to hurt his feelings. If he thinks you don't like it, he'll try something else."

"Did he ask you guys for help?"

"Nope," Able shakes his head. "Rogues have been spitting out ideas since they knew about you. Anything to keep him happy and away from Ansley."

"Really?" warmth spreads through me. "Why would they go to the trouble?"

"You have to understand something," he slows, turning to me with a heavy exhale, "no one left the Kings. _No one_. And more than half wanted to. So, when Rox did what he did, he sort of liberated us. And then, when we thought we'd go hungry, he had food for us. Always. He was out here every night for hours so we could eat drug free. _Every night_. He never asks anything for himself so why shouldn't we help where we can? Rox is a good guy," Able starts moving again and I'm at his side, "and every Rogue feels like he owes him. They're willing to do about anything for him."

"And that includes girl stuff?"

"Whatever keeps him happy."

I nod, running over everything.

"But," Able shrugs, "since we're on the subject... mind helping me out here? If you're not a fan of the flower, what would you like?"

"I don't want anything."

"Fallon," he stops us again, "come on. Reid's going to ask and I'd like to have something to tell him."

"But I _don't_ want anything."

"Well, you better think of something," he starts us walking again, "because if I have to sit through another session about the importance of _helmets_ , I'm going to lose it. Thank God Jace suggested the flower."

Able and I walk the rest of the way in silence until reaching the end of the tunnel. There's extremely little light, except for the handful of babeebs, so maneuvering outside takes a minute. But once we emerge, I know we're close to the ruins. I can _feel_ them. Inhaling the damp foliage, I scan the thin white mist settling over the ground, blanketing it as the leaves rustle from a soft breeze.

Reid passes out fold-up basket devices to each of us.

"Tucker, Able, Jace," he gestures to the far left, "over that way, not past that first wall," he indicates a broken stone structure that disappears into the canopy. "Simon, Ando, Niles, Sampson, maybe right here in the middle, and Vix, Pratt, Fallon," he gulps, "to the right."

Everyone disperses at his command, moving for his or her designated area.

"Here," Vix indicates, pointing to a plump bush of Marowines, dotting the plain of grass ahead, "all out here. You take them like this," she crouches, tugging the thick brown root from the ground and plucking the swollen red berries. She places them in her basket and reaches for another root, yanking out five more. "Once you fill your basket, just press down like this," Vix retrieves what looks to be the basket top, but pushes it down, almost to the bottom. I think she's squishing the Marowines and expect the red juice to gush forth but nothing is happening. "They're pliable," she explains, "that's why we collect so many. We can bring more back."

"What about the Gupples and..."

"Reid, Jothkore and Sampson usually collect them."

I glance at Pratt who's at another bush, the bottom of her basket already filled. I walk past her and Vix, heading out further, giving myself distance from them and the others. Finding a small gathering of bushes up ahead, I crouch, plucking the Marowines free the way Vix showed me.

The night is quiet and the jungle stills, the mist thickening to an opaque fog. I lose myself in the plucking, lost in thought over this evening. Over yesterday. Over being out here—being this close to the ruins and their call to me. Emptying each Marowine bush of the red berries as I come to them, I wander farther ahead. I push down the top like Vix instructed, and once the basket is filled, I find another bamboo separation and do the same, pushing it as low as it goes. I find a few more of the bamboo separations and with my basket not even half-full, I know I should be able to collect plenty.

Wandering up further and past more of the yellow-tongued bushes, I start to feel it. The _call_. That instinctive voice that sings to me, like part of my soul I was unaware of. It exists somewhere deep inside, only awakening when I'm near them.

I'm close to the ruins.

Glancing behind me, Pratt and Vix are lost to the smog and I've found myself in the middle of an opaque lushness. Closing my eyes, I allow the voice to navigate me and start moving in its direction. I move a few feet, my eyes shooting open when I trip over a root. But Sampson catches my hand before I fall.

"Best watch your step out here."

"Sampson!" I grasp onto him. "Sorry!"

"It's quite alright," he grins, clutching my hand to help me over the root, "but it's probably best to keep your eyes open. Why were they closed?"

"Just..." I motion ahead, to the stacks of broken ivy-coated walls ahead, "trying to find my way."

"You found it. Let's explore then, shall we?"

"Definitely!"

"So, how are you this evening?" Sampson tosses out as we walk past a net of swinging vines and into the clearing of broken walls.

"Fine—I'm glad we're out here," I turn to him with sudden excitement, "can we pick up that conversation from yesterday? Where I get to pick your brain a little?"

"Of course. And what an opportune environment," he walks past the first ivy-coated wall, dipping below hanging vines. "What would you like to know?"

"I want to know more about you, about your culture. About this place," I gesture all around me, its name on the tip of my tongue. But I can't will it. I can't hear it. It's right there...

" _Ellae_."

I stop, the jungle pausing with me. Sampson holds my stare, trying to register something in my eyes, in their reflection of how I respond to the sound of that name. The corner of his mouth tweaks, a gleaming smile throbbing beneath the robin's egg blue of his eyes.

"Ellae," he repeats, stepping forward, his palm flat against the stone remains, "my home. For a short period of my life..." his fingertips trail gently down the ivy, "and the best. It was quite beautiful at one time... lively. _Wonderful_. We all honored the _Way_."

"What's the _Way_?"

"A philosophy among the three worlds—Dellapalania, Mybyncia and Nerwolix," his voice softens at the last name, a wrenching sadness I can almost feel coursing through me. "It's a belief that all things in life are sacred, all _life forms_ are sacred and should be cherished. It is belief in the Three Gifts."

"Three Gifts?"

"Sight, Knowledge and Ability—one given to each world to hold for all eternity. Together, they create the ultimate weapon," he narrows his eyes. " _Power_. To create life... or destroy it. But they're never to be used together, never to be on the same world at the same time. The Gifts are meant to be kept separate, to keep the peace, the balance," he sighs. "Not very many still believe in their existence, I'm afraid."

"But you do."

Immense pain, loneliness and sorrow harden beneath the robin's egg blue of his eyes. Somehow, I can almost _feel_ it. Feel him wanting to tell me everything, but the thought of using those words all over again brings an agonizing pit of sorrow to his stomach. He wants to call out for her, to say her name just to hear it aloud again.

How can I know that?

"I didn't always but..." he stops, his mind racing again, "...yes, I do."

Pratt comes shuffling toward us, swiping hanging ivy from her path. "Reid says it's time to go."

"Already?" I exchange glances with Sampson.

"Seems a little early," he says, "doesn't it?"

"Well, not everyone. Just me, Fallon and Vix."

"Why?"

"Who knows? But we have to drop off with Reid before we go," she gestures to her overflowing basket.

Looking back to the ruins, to Ellae, I take in her splendor once more. Turning to follow Pratt, Sampson joins my side. With our time cut short, I search through my questions from last night and blurt the first one I can think of.

"How did you save Reid?"

"Pardon?"

"When you found him. He said he got shot with venom?"

"Oh—yes. He fell into a Plausinis Bush," Sampson shakes his head, " _extremely_ toxic. Only takes one barb and you're done in hours. Two or more, matter of minutes. I was nearby. I heard him."

"But how did you _save_ him? From the Plausinis?" I push through a wall of shrubbery, Sampson following just behind. "What'd you do?"  
"Retrieved a Tregmint," he takes a breath, anticipating my question. "They can cure any ailment."

"What do they look like?"

"Deep crimson-purple, oval shaped," he nods, adding as an afterthought, "thick yellow roots."

"How'd you know where to find one?"

"Come on now, Fallon," he tosses me a mischievous grin. "You're really going to ask me that?"

"So you know this area pretty well?"

"It's my home..." his voice softens.

Holding back another net of ivy, Sampson offers me passage and I step into a small clearing, finding the rest of the group. Searching the ground for Pratt's basket, I find it feet from her own. I walk over and set mine next to it.

"Here fine?"

Reid nods. "Thanks ladies. We still have a long way to go so why don't you retire for the night?"

"You sure you don't need any more help?" I look around, searching Able's face for an explanation. He simply shrugs.

"No, it's fine," Reid nods. "We'll probably be out here for another half hour or so. Go back, get some sleep."

"Okay, well... thanks for letting me help," I glance to Pratt. "Ready?"

"Definitely."

"Night Sampson," I follow Vix and Pratt into the bushes.

We reach the tree in minutes, dropping down into the black tunnel and Vix leads the way, holding two babeebs in her left hand. Pratt's at her heels, holding a babeeb in her right. I don't have any, so I stick close to the two of them, moving at their speed in a brisk calculated walk.

A few minutes goes by before Pratt breaks the silence with an exhausted huff. "What a night."

"I'm glad I was finally able to come with you guys," I admit. "I feel like I need to carry my weight."

Vix veers left, into a new tunnel and Pratt follows. "You _do_ carry your weight."

"How?"

But before Pratt can respond, Vix answers ahead. "You inspire them."

"Inspire who?"

"The rest," she takes another new tunnel but then stops to face me. "You stand up to Tetlak, to Reid. They've never seen this. And you speak the truth," she taps her chest with her free hand, "from your heart. They see this."

"It's true," Pratt nods, smiling under the golden glow. "They like you."

"Well..." and since I'm unsure what to say, I try changing the subject. "At least we were able to get some Marowines. Wish I could've stayed longer though."

"You were speaking with Sampson," Vix states rather than asks, taking off again into the tunnel.

"Yes," I move closer, just behind her, "he was telling me about Ellae... and the Way."

" _Aya-vellay_ ," Vix whispers to herself, touching her thumb to her lips and then, "you have many questions."

"Reid believes in it," Pratt jumps in. "Once Sampson told him about the Way, he's clung to it like a new religion," she switches her babeeb to her other hand. "He's got a little black circle on his chest—got it soon after he met Sampson. It's some sort of honor, like taking an oath or something."

"Chuloo," Vix nods. "Mark of an Arizal solider. Very honorable."

"Does Sampson have one?" Pratt asks, moving quickly behind her. "Do you?"

Vix nods but doesn't elaborate. She focuses on selecting the right tunnel when we come to a junction of four. Without hesitation, she picks the second from the left and I'm on her heels, trying to keep up with her long strides.

"What does it mean to be an Arizal soldier?" I ask.

Vix stops, slowly turning to us, the babeebs casting a soft golden glow across her smooth, ebony face. "It means discipline. Strength. _Courage_ ," she offers in three quick spurts, "honoring the Three Gifts to keep balance. Protecting the sanctity of life. To be an Arizal is to give yourself to something greater. Something _purer_ ," she turns, leading us through the tunnel again.

"How did Reid become one?" I follow along quickly.

"Sampson taught him."

"That's how you all know about the Callixes and everything else..." I turn to Pratt.

She nods with a half shrug.

I need to know. The question has been irking me since yesterday and there's no better time than the present. I try to keep my voice even, "Do you know if—did Reid ever give Ansley one?"

"Not that I know of," Pratt shakes her head, "And I'd _seriously_ doubt it."

"Why do you say that?"

"Like I said—he believes in that stuff. And a Callix pretty much means love. So..." she shrugs, leaving me to make the connection.

"Reid is an Arizal Soldier," Vix says from up front, "he'll only give a Callix when he's ready. When he's found the one he will want forever."

I want to ask a million questions but my mind's already racing with everything I've learned tonight. We head the rest of the way in silence as I ruminate over it all.

#  Chapter Seventeen: Issues

I need to talk to Sampson again.

I've been outside all morning and that's the one thing I'm sure of. I need to know everything I can. Maybe tonight, when we gather, he can tell me about the Way, the prophecy and Ellae—whatever he told or taught Reid. Every night at gathering, Sampson can tell me more and little by little, I'll be caught up.

The dismissal bell screeches and I throw my Senz into the bucket, following the others. Inside the Courtyard, I head for the stairwell but only a few floors up, I feel it. Tossing a casual glance over my shoulder, I see them instantly. Two sets of eyes barreling into mine. Both belong to large, ferocious boys I might've seen at some point. They're vaguely familiar and not in a good way, like they fell into the backdrop of some panicked moment.

Shit.

At least I'm not alone. Right now, there are plenty of other people so I'll be fine if I can make it to my door. I fly up the rest of the way, weaving in and out of bodies, making sure I'm not the last one to my floor. Reaching it, I glance over my shoulder. A knot grows in my stomach. They're still following, still in heavy pursuit. People are making it back to their rooms. If I can just get to mine. I'm almost to mine—

My stomach drops.

Mantis is at my door. There's a victorious hint to the slight perk in his cheek but it's overshadowed by his obsidian eyes. They weigh me down, freezing me. He offers a light laugh, as though surprised. "This was easy."

"What?"

"So you're his new play-thing?" He crosses his arms, circling me. "Has Rox tapped it? It's not like him to wait."

I move for my door and he blocks me.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." he plunges his hand to the crimson arch. "Where do you think you're going?"

The two that were following me arrive at my back, sandwiching me to Mantis. My heart stops again and then takes off as I play out my options. If I jump into my room—if I can even _get_ in there—they'll jet in with me and I'll be trapped. The other possibility is escaping through the scarce crowd, hiding in someone's room. But _whose_? I only know Reid and Sampson's and what if neither went back to their bunker? I'd be trapped outside with Mantis who could just take me by force then.

I keep my voice strong. "What do you want?"

"I'm sure he's told you who I am."

"He might've mentioned it."

"Maybe you should _say_ it," he orders. "Just so I know you know."

My blood boils as I glance around the rapidly-thinning corridor. Time's running out.

"Who?" Mantis is getting impatient. " _Who_ am I?"

All he wants is to hear his name but I'm not giving him that satisfaction. "You? You're just someone else who couldn't beat Rox."

Mantis' eyes grow wide, fierce with rage. For a split second I think he's going to punch me until a familiar voice eases the tension with a casual, almost fruitful laugh.

"She's right about that," Jace picks his thumbnail with a pocket-sized knife as he leans against the rail. The blade is made from same material as the sheets carried in transport—dried gibb.

The two Kings glance to one another and, as if encouraged by each other's presence, stand firm. But their focus drifts to Jace, who has started tossing the blade up and down, catching it effortlessly. He's not even watching it, but watching them watch him, a casual grace to his actions.

"Just having some fun," Mantis holds his hands up in defense, smirking. "No harm in that, right?"

"That's a question you probably should've asked yourself first," Jace catches the tiny knife and resumes picking his thumbnail. "Cause, uh... I know my answer. Chief?"

The tall Indian appears behind Mantis like a brick wall, looming with warning through tight lips and flared nostrils. Glaring at Mantis and the Kings behind me, he tilts his head, a loud crack emitting from his neck.

"Yeah... he doesn't talk much," Jace examines his hands, selecting a new finger to clean. He tosses Mantis a look. "But I'm going to say it's a no."

"Come on guys..."

"See, that's the thing—we're not your guys anymore. In fact," and he looks to Chief for confirmation, "we never were."

The Kings exchange glances with uncertainty, especially as Chief withdraws a rounded blade that extends from his elbow to his fingertips. He grips it by the brown handle, a thin hunk of wood wrapped in brown twine. At the sight, the two Clansmen push back, eventually making off down the hall just as the remaining stragglers find their rooms.

The tower is nearly empty.

"Aw... well that wasn't nice," Mantis frowns before speaking directly to Jace. "Rox treating you okay? You know there's always a place for you with the Kings."

"Sure there is," he laughs, cleaning the nail of his middle finger. "But a dirt plot's not really my thing."

"For the King of Hearts?" Mantis smiles coyly. " _Never_. Just as much pussy as you can handle."

Jace returns the grin, "Got that already. Thanks," he pushes himself from the rail, to the other side of me. "I'll send Rox your regards."

Mantis looks between all three of us and finally takes off down the open mouth of the hall.

Before Jace can say anything, Chief motions to the door behind me. "You should get back in your room. Now."

I do as he says, sealing myself inside my bunker and withdrawing all the way to the window. I press my back to the wall and slink down to the ground. I have two Marowines saved but my hunger has abated. The lunch hour passes quickly and before I know it, the alarm screeches overhead, advising that it's time to head back and Rebuild. I've only been able to nibble on half a Marowine, my stomach turning in knots for this moment. Will Mantis be waiting for me, ready to pounce in? Or will he send another King?

A knock sounds on the door.

My heart takes off as I walk toward it, trying to rationalize why a King would bother knocking, unless it's to throw me off. But maybe Chief or Jace were able to notify Reid, let him know what happened. I cling to this hope, pulling back the crimson arch and holding my breath.

Able offers a gaping smile. "Hi bestie."

I'm so relieved that I throw my arms around in his neck in a tight hug. "Hi!"

"You know I'm not Reid, right?"

Pulling back, I peek over his shoulder to the dimly lit tower thriving with a steady passage of bodies. Everyone's headed back to work, back to Rebuilding. Soon we'll all be in the same place, all outside, under the same gray ceiling. Exposed.

"How about I walk you down?" Able offers to link his arm in mine. I accept and he leads us down the buzzing stairwell.

"They told you?"

"Are you kidding?" he laughs. "Oh yeah. Reid is _not_ happy—I'll say that."

"Not happy?"

"You want the rated or unrated version?"

"But nothing happened."

"Yet..." Able corrects. "Nothing happened _yet_. The fact that Mantis was at your door and his two idiot goons followed you there did _not_ go over well with him. He would've come to get you himself but he's overloaded with Jace and Tucker on the shipment of Arrivals that came during second common hour. They need to act quickly—from a recruitment standpoint—otherwise he would've been here."

"Sounds busy."

"To say the least."

We move quickly, along with the rest of the crowd, sliding down the stairwell as Tetlak shakes his staff in the air, circling in the Courtyard below. He glares up at us with his yellow eyes, demanding we move faster.

"Sorry you have to play with the girls instead of the boys," I toss Able an apologetic frown as we reach the ninth floor. "I'm sure you have better things to do."

"Then spending time with my best friend?" he scoffs, "No way. This is an assignment I don't mind at all."

"So what are they doing now?"

"Who?"

"Reid... Tucker, Jace..."

"I believe Reid and Jace are with Jothkore."

"Doing what?"

"Probably getting as much information as possible from the latest shipment. Location pick-ups, details of surroundings, injuries if there were any—anything that could assist in describing character."

"And then?"

"Set a Scout on the notables—potentials _and_ threats—and go from there. With a Scout watching twenty four-seven, you're bound to know a little bit about a person."

"But don't the Scouts have other assignments? Bartering with the Clients?"

Able nods, spinning us down another floor. "Yup, that's why they'll send their own Scouts for that. They'll hire their own assistants to take care of their assignments in their absence," he pulls me closer, "everyone is working for everyone. Everyone is _watching_ everyone. It's all one big game and right now, we're adding more players."

"Are we gathering food again tonight?"

"Maybe," we reach the Courtyard, passing Tetlak who glares our way, his focus unwavering. "He says there's something important he needs to tell us. I think we're going back to that tree place."

"Camp."

We pass through the open portcullis and out under the gray sky again, people drifting in separate directions now that Tetlak's no longer urging them to move along. He remains inside, hassling the last few out.

"Reid's having everyone meet," Able keeps his voice low. "All the Rogues again."

"Are the Scouts on board with the pills?"

"Yeah. We've also warned a few Clients. I think Griffin was one."

"So tonight then?"

"Yup. Beginning of Leisure Time. Someone will come get you."

"Able..." I clutch his arm. I'm not sure what I really want to ask or if I can face the reality of the question. "Am I... should I..."

"Just keep yourself constantly surrounded. People know who you are so if he tries it again, we'll be right there. It's when you're alone that you're in trouble," he leans in, making sure I understand this. "Don't give him that opportunity."

I force a smile and he gently withdraws his arm from mine.

"You'll be fine," he smiles sincerely. "I'll be nearby. We all will."

Able backs up, heading for the center part of the trench as I veer to my normal right. If it's true, and they're all nearby, then I'm not as vulnerable I had myself thinking. I resume my digging and try to concentrate on tonight and Sampson revealing everything to the Rogues. How will they take it? Will it explain a lot of their questions? And what are we planning to do about all the new Arrivals, the pills and Snatchings? My mind wanders with question after question as I lose myself to the monotonous digging.

***

It's break before Reminders.

Able said someone would come get me. Is this how it's going to be from now on? An escort everywhere? I'm lying on my bed with my eyes closed, waiting for the inevitable knock when images of the lady in the red bandanna flash by. Who is she? And why does she only come in my dreams? Shutting my eyes tighter, I try to will more of the scene when a quick two-pound knock sounds on my door.

I sit up just as Reid walks through, his face hardened. "Tell me what happened."

"Hey..."

"Did he touch you?" Reid moves toward me, his hands balled into fists. "Did he lay a fucking _finger_ on you?"

"What?" I'm surprised at the ferocity in his tone. "No."

"And what about the other two?"

"No..." I gulp, suddenly uneasy with the rage emitting from him. "They didn't—nothing happened. I'm fine."

He exhales, still unsatisfied as he begins pacing the room. He runs his fingers through his hair, bringing his thumb to his front teeth, gnawing on it.

"Reid?"

"I'm so sorry, Fallon," he drops to the bed next to me, softly brushing my cheek. "Are you okay? Seriously?"

" _Seriously_ , I'm fine," I take his hand in mine, dropping them to my lap. "So, Sampson is telling the Rogues tonight?"

"They need to know as soon as possible," he accepts the distraction, "we'll lead them from the Auditorium—same as last time."

"And how'd recruiting go?"

"Some leads," he shrugs, "not as many as I'd hoped. We have a few Scouts out there so we'll see."

"And the Kings are doing the same?"

"This is their golden opportunity. Try and destroy us once and for all. Claim the Castle for themselves again. But they probably had the same luck. It wasn't a big shipment."

"I thought Clarence would be doubling his quota?"

"He _will_ be," Reid exhales, "and that's why we need all the help we can get. The Castle's about to grow in population and we're not Rebuilding anything. There's no room for that many people. We're going to start going fast," he falls forward, his elbows on his knees and his head in his hands. A quiet minute goes by before he speaks again. "We're going to have to figure something out soon."

I'm overcome by the sudden urge to comfort him, to make him understand he's not alone in this.

"We will," I squeeze his hand. "The Rogues will know tonight and from there, we'll get a plan together. We've got Sampson on our side, Clarence, _Jothkore_ even," I say, but Reid just stares at the ground, his fingers at his temples. "Hey," I force him to look at me, lifting his chin to mine, "we'll come up with something. You're not in this by yourself."

His eyes flicker between mine, searching for truth, wanting to believe me. Should he? He wants to hold onto the idea but seems unsure. No, it's always been on his shoulders. It always will be. Still, he's grateful for the possibility. He leans in but just as I think he's going to kiss me, he stops, pressing his forehead to mine.

"You know I won't let them hurt you, right?"

My breath catches. I lick my lips, wanting to taste his. "I know."

"Never," he growls, pulling away just as the alarm for Reminders blares. He paces, gnawing on the tip of his right thumb, contemplating something. "We need to find out. We need to know what they're doing."

"The Dofinikes?"

Reid nods.

"But even if we find out, what do we do? How can we stop it?"

He paces again, his face hardening as the question he's been asking himself this whole time consumes him further. I jump up to meet him, grasping him by the arms. He doesn't realize it's me at first and stiffens in response. But then he looks down, relaxing again.

"Hey—we'll figure it out."

He takes my hand from his arm and brings it to his face. Lightly, he kisses the center of my palm, setting my body aflame.

"Reid..." I start as a light knock sounds at the door.

He drops my hand with an apologetic look, pulling back instantly at the sound. Reaching for the door, he opens it to Tucker, Able and Jace walking in without an invitation, the three glancing around my bunker curiously.

"All Rogues know to meet same as last time," Tucker advises, keeping close by the door.

"Scouts?" Reid asks.

"A few have reported. Could be some possibilities," Tucker shrugs, "we'll have to wait and see."

"And the Kings?"

"Already approached a few."

"Eager sons of bitches," Able mumbles.

"Sounds like they're scared," Jace laughs. "I'd be too."

"Scared... but productive," Reid tugs his chin, "they'll double their numbers overnight if we let them and I don't believe in head starts. We'll need more help. There are two more shipments tomorrow and I want all eyes watching."

Tucker nods.

"Jace," Reid turns to him, "have Moss and Cramp increase Clientele on all new Arrivals—double it if you have to. I want to know who they're talking to, what they believe, what they've heard, anything that might determine their future as Rogue or King. We need to know this quick," he snaps, "but I want knowledgeable, not rash decisions. Able," he spins to him, "get me an estimation— _accurate,_ " he stresses, "of extra tokens needed. Have it to me by tomorrow."

"You got it, Boss."

Reid turns to me, his hand out. "Ready?"

I take it, allowing him to pull me behind him and into the buzzing corridor, Able, Tucker and Jace on my tail. We fly down the stairs and into the Auditorium, gliding easily through the larger than normal herd. Once Leisure Time is announced, Reid leads us into the West Wall's entrance and through the Maze. We reach the final passage and find it teeming with Rogues. Most are quietly chatting while Rooney and Drenz laugh somewhere in the middle. But once spotting Reid, the Rogues instantly straighten, clearing a path for him—for us— watching silently as we pass through.

At the very front, Sampson, Vix, Clark and Pratt wait against the wall. With Reid's nod, Sampson opens the door, Vix leaving first, then Clark and Pratt, then the rest of us. I climb through, Reid behind me but he pulls me back, kissing my palm again. "Hey, I'll catch up with you."

He disappears into the streaming line of Rogues behind us before I realize he's left. Babeebs scatter overhead, lighting every few Clansmen but not him. He's gone, lost to the shadows and there's no point looking. But my hand is cold, my body, uncomfortable without the presence of his. My stomach lurches at the realization it'll be a while before I can feel him again.

Even if it is just his hand.

We make it to Camp, all filing in and finding ourselves in the same positions as last time. Reid hangs back with Tucker and Sampson, exchanging quick words while Pratt and Able take either side of me.

Reid nods once more to Sampson before resuming the center of the circle created for him, "Evening Rogues..."

"Rox!" they holler in unison.

"Lots to go over," he rubs his hands together, pacing in the circle. "Lots to discuss but before we get to all that, there's someone you need to meet—a friend of mine. Most of you have seen me around with him and an introduction is long overdue. His name is Sampson," Reid glances to him, returning his focus on his attentive Clansmen, "and I need you all to listen to him. We're telling you this because things are about to get a lot worse. And it's time you knew," he nods to himself, to his Clansmen. "It's time you _know_."

Reid steps back, exchanging places with Sampson. With three babeebs overhead, his silver hair glows golden, a widened circle of light casting around him. He stands effortlessly strong, commanding attention of the room as easily as Reid.

"I've known Rox for awhile now, and consider myself lucky to call him a friend. If he's shaped you to his own, I assume you to be men of honor. With that said, I trust I'll be allowed to say my piece _fully,_ without questions and without judgments, without vocalizing what I'm sure will be disagreeable opinions, until I am finished speaking. Your respect means a great deal and as no one has objected thus far, I assume my request is granted..." Sampson takes a heavy breath as he glances from curious face to face.

He closes his eyes, finding the necessary words, which seem to fill him like toxic gas. But his anecdote, his _window_ , is not here tonight. There's no escape for him, no Harrizel sky to wash away the black truth of his words. We're trapped. Just as trapped as we are in our closet-sized bunkers but when he speaks, his apology for this rings through his tone.

"It started, you see," his morose eyes open, gazing upon us, "back a long time ago..."

#  Chapter Eighteen: Confessions

"A Dofinike?"

The question hangs, the room stunned silent from Sampson's confession. I think it's Harrison who asked, or maybe Able.

"You know Jothkore then?" Chief asks, his tone purely curious.

"Yes," Sampson nods. "I told him the Rogues were in need of assistance. He started bringing you the food on my request."

The Clansmen look around at each other. They must have wondered where their source came from. The Kings were supplied by Tetlak so they knew some Dofinikes had no problem dealing with the humans, but they were never sure what sent Jothkore in their direction or why he was so interested in helping.

"Well..." Tucker exhales with confusion, "if you're a Dofinike, why don't you just leave? Escape?"

A throbbing pain strikes Sampson and it takes all he has not to let it gush out.

How he aches for her...

"Technically, I'm able to leave any time I want to. But there are things... _terrible_ things, beyond my control, that might happen were I to flee. And I cannot allow that..." he shakes his head, glancing around the room of Rogues again. "Besides, how could I abandon you all here? I didn't desert you the first time. I won't desert you now. I understand this is a lot to take in. Normally, out of courtesy, I'd offer a few days to acclimate yourselves with the idea before proceeding with further discussion of the topic. However," and now his voice turns somber, unsure, "I'm afraid time is no longer a boundless commodity."

"This surplus of survivors," Reid joins Sampson in the middle again, "is just more names for the lists and Snatchings. That's all. There's no Rebuilding being done—we all know that—so with this influx of Arrivals, they'll be calling lists daily. Especially if Clarence is to double his quota."

"What are our options?" Kelly asks.

"Revolt," I say.

All eyes fly to me, surprise and confusion reflecting in their gaping stares. Tucker, Reid and Sampson exchange looks, the word echoing through the hollowed trunk.

"Did you say _revolt_?" Clark laughs with a mocking sneer.

"Yes," Sampson answers, "an immediate counterstrike—if there's any hope of survival, one will need to occur."

"But how?" Tucker poses, "and with what forces?"

"Our own," I look between him and Reid. "How many do we have?"

"What?" Tucker asks.

"Ball park. How many men—Rogues, Scouts, Clients—can fight? How many do we have?"

Shrugging, Tucker tilts his head to one side. "Seventy-five maybe. A buck."

I turn to Sampson, "Not a bad number."

"It's possible if the others were to follow," he agrees.

"Then they'd need to know the truth too. Everyone..."

"Are you saying," Tucker starts, glancing to Reid for confirmation, "that you're planning on telling _everyone_ what you've just told us?"

"At some point, yes. They need to know."

"They'll think we're all crazy."

"Then when we tell them, we better have proof... or something we can at least offer instead," I look at Sampson. "If we can locate them, they'd be proof of the Dofinike's lies."

"Locate what?" Able asks.

Is it up to Sampson to tell them or has he already revealed too much tonight? Sneaking a peek in his direction, he nods me on. He wants _me_ to say it. To reveal it. Those two words that both excite and enrage me, knowing they're somewhere so close.

"Our memories."

It's like before, when Sampson stopped speaking and a heavy silence filled the room with disbelief. Except this time, it's the opposite. It's hope. It's possibility. Tucker is the first to speak.

"They're here?" he's talking to me directly. "On Harrizel?"

"On this very base," Sampson adds, "probably in a storage container on the highest floor of the Castle. Kept without guard or lock."

"So, ripe for the taking?" I ask.

"Exactly."

"But still," Tucker insists, "you're talking about going against all those Dofinikes."

"How many Dofinikes do you think there are?" Sampson poses.

"I don't know, what'd Jeb say?" Tucker looks around the others for their thoughts, "A good amount."

"Jeb told me a few hundred," I offer.

Sampson shakes his head, "No, these are also lies. There are a few Dofinikes, yes, that keep to the top floor. Scientists, and only a handful I might add. Then there are the guards. In total, _not_ including Jothkore, Vix or myself, we're looking at maybe thirty or so. On _all_ of Harrizel."

"Against how many humans?"

Sampson shrugs, "About four hundred."

"And counting," Pratt adds.

We all sit through another long minute of silence, regurgitating the last few statements. Gnawing away at his thumbnail, Reid speaks first between grinded teeth. "It's doable."

"Well... yeah..." Tucker agrees, somewhat unsure at first, " _if_ we can get to the proof."

"Then that's it," I conclude. "We get the memories. If we have those, then they'll know. If they know, they'll want to fight back. And there you go," I wave my hand toward Tucker, as if offering him something invisible, "there's your army."

Tucker's eyes shift between Reid and Sampson. Finally, he returns his attention to me. "Okay, but how do we _get_ the memories back?"

I glance to Sampson. "You said there's no guard or lock."

"I'm not positive, but most likely not," he shakes his head. "It'll still have to be at the right time."

"When do you think that'll be?"

"When Beshib's not here, when he leaves for another meeting. That's when we need to strike. Not just with regaining your memories. But with the first wave of the revolt. It will have to be a window of a few days."

"What about the Kings?" Chief asks.

"Still working that part out," Reid exhales. "But if we have any hope of taking over the base, they'll have to be removed."

"Overdue..." someone mumbles from the back.

"So that's to be determined?" Tucker asks.

Reid nods. "We need to get everyone on board for the revolt first. This is something that needs to be done and needs to be done soon." He turns to Sampson, "Do we know when Beshib will be away again for any significant amount of time?"

"Not now. I'm to be notified when he does."

"But what are we supposed to do?" Clark laughs. "Fight them with our bare hands? Even if we _do_ outnumber them, the Dofinikes are stronger than we are," he turns to Sampson, "you could kill us quite easily. You have more odds than you give yourself credit for."

"Depends on how many fight," someone from the back throws out.

"Who? Dofinikes or humans?" someone else asks.

"Both!" a third voice answers.

"All right, all right," Reid lowers his hands, signaling for quiet. Gnawing his thumb, he paces, an idea forming. Shrugging to himself in an internal debate, he finally looks to Sampson as if already having discussed it. "We need to be armed, don't we?"

"Yes," Sampson sighs, "I think they're a necessary evil in this case."

"Weapons?" Able perks up, a smile creeping across his face. "Am I hearing this right?"

"Really?" a few voices echo over each other.

"What kind?" someone throws out.

"And they're on Harrizel?" Tucker asks, "Like our memories?"

Sampson nods, weary to give away too much information too quickly. "Again, it's just a matter of the _right_ time."

"So... is that it then?" I look at Reid, asking him directly as though we were alone. "Is this a go?"

A fire lights behind his eyes, excitement playing across his lips. With his sights set on me, he lifts his arm straight up, commanding in a fierce roar. "Rogues!"

" _Rogues_!" they shout in unison, banging their right hand on their left shoulder, lifting it high, like Reid. He walks around, breaking focus with me to meet the loyalty of his Clan, each member eager to hold his eye. They hold their arms up, outstretched for him, for his command. Even Tucker stands at attention, waiting as Reid circles.

"When the time is right, we'll take back the Castle," Reid paces. "There's a lot to still be figured out but we're doing this while we can, before it's too late."

"We still must deal with the Kings," Chief reminds him, taking a step forward as his feathered earrings sway, "they are growing stronger, like us. They have their source," he gestures to Sampson, "like we have ours. If we don't deal with them, we might not be able to take the Castle back at all."

"What do you think?" Reid turns to Sampson who is already contemplating this, "It'd have to be before the first wave. Before we tell the others the truth. We can't fight two wars at once."

"I agree," he scratches his chin, "let's think on it—shall we?"

Reid nods, glancing around the crowded room, "Like I said, several things to be figured out still. Now," and he sighs, running his fingers through his hair, "let's get down to some Rogue business. Recruits, Scouts, any issues will be addressed now."

"Might I excuse myself?" Sampson interjects, all focus in the room falling on him. "It's such a lovely night... I thought I might enjoy a quick walk in the fresh air?"

"That sounds nice," I turn to Reid, "mind if I head out too?"

Vix jumps up. "I shall attend as well and escort Fallon back to her room afterwards."

Reid nods, looking at me. I offer a grin, caught in his stare, my body heating under his intense gaze. I meet Vix and Sampson by the door, and with a final glance in Reid's direction, I leave the hollowed burrow.

I follow them outside and into the dark night. As soon as I breathe in the jungle's damp air, I feel it, the same call as before, pulling me closer to Ellae. I start to take off for it, following my feet which seem to know the way when Vix clings to my hips. Sampson's already off on his own, keeping ahead but veering left.

"Know where you are going?" Vix wants to know, trudging through the shrubbery with me.

"Ellae, I hope."

"Why is that?"

"Why is what?"

"You want to be there so bad," she states, swaying overgrown foliage from our way, "what are you hoping you will find?"

I've pondered it several times myself. What will I find in the place of ruin—a place I've never seen, never been to or heard about, a place I've never dreamed of or felt or knew existed and yet somehow, in some way, it's a place I belong.

"Answers," I step over a bubbling root. "I hope to find answers."

"You are smart to seek them," she pulls back the yellow-tongued leaves to reveal the broken city of Ellae, "especially here."

The question dawns on me as I watch Vix taking in the sight of the fractured city before us. "You lived here?"

"Yes."

"Were you here when it happened?"

A long pause and her voice tightens." _Yes_."

"Do you remember it as well as Sampson?"

"I _feel_ it," she jabs her fingers to her chest, "still."

"Feel what?"

"The pain..." she whispers, her eyes heavy with grief, loss. "Me'lock was home when it happened. I could _feel_ it," she sucks in her breath, shutting her eyes at the thought. "What happened. What they did."

I give her a moment but when she doesn't elaborate, I lead her on, "And before? Can you feel... _before_ then?" I step toward her, "When you were happy?"

At this Vix closes her eyes, inhaling as she loses herself from our reality. She's lost somewhere, _sometime_ , her mouth curving into jubilation, a pure joy few ever know.

"I can..." her words drift, a smile forming.

The wind rushes through the walls as the dark night lights up with her confession. In this second I see it—Ellae rebuilt, standing tall as originally crafted. Flashes of faces, of the village fully restored stream over me like a veil. It only lasts a second but I'm there, in the sunlight of another day. And thousands are moving about. Young ones dash by, toward the thriving market, but then I'm back here again, in the night of its ruins, in silence.

"Me'lock was your..."

"Husband."

"You can still feel him?"

"Shades," she says, "only shades. Me'lock is gone. Nothing can bring him back. I can only touch what we used to have. See his face as it's burned in my memory," she takes a step, a sad sigh escaping. "He only exists now in his remains, in what he gave me during life," Vix places a gentle hand on my shoulder, motioning out to the broken city. "What do _you_ feel?"

Stepping closer, I inhale the damp scent of night, the sweet, floral fragrance riding the wind. I close my eyes, willing life to reappear but nothing happens. I wait a second longer, breathing it all in again, concentrating, but when nothing happens, I open my eyes, shrugging at Vix. "I don't know."

"You will," Vix nods with certainty, "when you are ready."

Vix keeps to the city's outer perimeter and I follow, glancing past the shattered walls and hanging ivy. She's leading us somewhere but I'm too busy to notice, my focus glued to Ellae's fractured remains. I'm still trying to will the light that sometimes rips through me, so that I see it beforehand, when this place still breathed. We're slowing and I nearly run into Vix when a new source of light beams in the distance ahead.

The Rinzal tree stands like a beacon out in the wide field beyond the broken city. Radiating pink, peach and red tresses reach like a thousand long arms to smooth Sampson who kneels at her base, his head lowered. He's bent forward, toward the tree, slightly rocking and muttering soft words.

"He prays," Vix whispers as we come to a stop and watch. A terrible pang of guilt sweeps over me at intruding on this intimate moment.

"To the Rinzal?"

"To the Way. To find _her_."

"Who?"

But Vix refuses to say. It's as if she's unable to speak it, especially this close to Sampson and especially when he seeks her. Vix exhales exhaustedly, too familiar with the scene. She gestures us away. "Come."

We head back to the Castle and she drops me off at my room. It's a little while later and I'm still awake, staring at the two babeebs under the ceiling's Gizella roots when a light knock sounds on the door. I sit up, my heart racing. I'm not expecting anyone.

"It's me," Reid's voice calls from the other side. The knot in my stomach settles momentarily, until the thought of seeing him replaces it. Suddenly, a new heat erupts as I jump from the bed and pull back the crimson arch. He's leaning against it with one arm. "Hey."

"Hi."

"Yeah...uh..." he looks to the ground with a light laugh, "I probably shouldn't be here."

"No, it's fine," I motion him inside and he obliges, closing the door behind him. We're trapped again in this tiny space, the familiar fire consuming me. "How'd the rest of the meeting go?"

"Fine. Guys are pretty weirded out by the whole Sampson thing."

"I get that," I retire to my bed, crossing my legs in front of me.

"Look," he paces the small bit of space, "I want to apologize for earlier. For Mantis."

"Reid..."

"It won't happen again. He isn't crazy enough to try anything after the message I sent him."

"What message?"

He gnaws on the tip of his thumb, focused on the floor.

"Reid?"

"I did what I had to do. I..." he gulps, "I'm _so_ sorry, Fallon. I didn't mean to involve you like this. I..." he rubs his hands down his face. "I don't know what I was thinking. I really should've..." He takes a breath. "I really should've been smarter with you."

"But you didn't—"

"If anything happened," he jets to the bed, his eyes shifting between mine, "I don't know what I'd do," he cups my face, "I don't know..." he kisses me, "...if I could control myself..." he opens my mouth with his, "if I could hold back. If..." his hands trail behind my head, locking me to him. He growls as our tongues meet and suddenly, this is _hot_.

He climbs on top, pressing me down to the bed. He moves to kiss my neck but withdraws, yanking his blue scrub over his head and tossing it to the floor. I freeze at the sight of his steel torso and the tiny black circle of alternating dots just above his right nipple. The Chuloo. But before I have a second, he's back on me, his mouth on my neck and his hands sliding over my chest. He takes me into his palm and squeezes, searing me.

"Reid..." I whisper his name with pleasure.

He must like it because he growls again, running his mouth over my jaw and toward my lips. I arch under his roaming fingers as he rolls his bottom half onto mine, grinding into me. He picks up speed and then separates my legs with his, sliding his hand up my thigh. He reaches their junction and I'm instantly ablaze, unable to stifle a gasp. He groans into my neck and dips his fingers along the hem of my bottoms, trying to tug them off.

"Wait," I shove his shoulders back, my body overheating, "...wait."

"What?" he pants, glancing between my eyes, searching for his error. "What's wrong?"

"Fast," my blood races, "...you're going too fast."

He drops his head with a defeated grunt, his body recovering from its rapid race to consume me. He grips the blanket in his fists and I know it's taking a lot for him to stop himself.

"I don't want you to leave," I whisper, "but... not tonight. Okay?"

"Um..." he laughs.

"Reid?"

"I'll try."

"I'm serious," I look between his eyes.

"So am I," he kisses me again, moving like before. My hands trail up his body, ours mouths burning on one another. My heart races at the taste of him, the _scent_ of him and I pull him closer, fire in my body where there should be blood. He rolls himself on me harder, but suddenly pulls away, leaving me cold, empty.

"I can't. I'm going to want to, if we keep..." he clears his throat, his face flushed, "so it's probably best I uh... I go. I'll..." he gulps, rubbing the back of his neck, glancing down at me beneath him, "...with you like this." He jumps off the bed and heads for the wall, grabbing his shirt from the floor.

Still recovering from my pounding heart, I'm behind him in an instant, almost begging him to stay. But I know what will happen if he does. And I'm not sure I'm ready for that.

Pausing at the door, he yanks his shirt on. He sneaks a peek at the bed and then back at me, "I didn't mean to go so fast. It's just... been awhile."

"Me too. Sorry we didn't..."

"No, I'm cool with this. _More_ than cool," he takes my hand and gently presses his lips into my palm. "This is enough."

"Reid?" I call as he opens the door.

"Yeah?" he looks back with a smile that melts me. I have to remind myself to breathe as a new swelling grows inside.

But I forgot what I was going to say. Maybe it was nothing. Maybe it was just to see him a few seconds longer. "Goodnight."

He winks and then is gone.

#  Chapter Nineteen: Searching

"So... that was interesting about Sampson."

Able keeps his arm linked in mine as we head down the stairwell for Rebuilding. He keeps me close, pressed against his side, locking us together.

"Wasn't it?"

"Did you suspect?" he lowers his voice as we round to the ninth floor.

"No... but it makes sense when you think about it."

"I knew Reid had stuff he wasn't telling us. Like how he'd get us all that food in the beginning? And where did Jothkore come from?" he makes a confused face. "We all thought he and Tetlak had it out so he wanted to help us. What'd we know?" he shrugs, skipping down a few steps, pulling me with him.

"How do you think the Rogues are taking it?"

Able tilts his head, "Some better than others. They understand why it needed to be kept a secret. I think they're just in shock over everything."

"You seem to be doing alright."

"Like I said... kind of figured Reid was hiding something. Figured he'd tell us when we needed to know. And he did."

We reach the Courtyard. Keeping his arm tightly linked with mine, Able shuttles me through the open portcullis and out under the damp gray sky. As we walk toward the Water Pole, my heart skips a beat. Mantis is walking with his head down, the entire right half of his face darkened into a deep plum color.

I stop. "Who did that?"

"Who do you think?"

"He didn't have one of you...?"

"No," Able scoffs. "Mantis messed with his girl. What'd you think was going to happen?"

I look again. His eye is swollen shut in a mash of green and purple. His bottom lip has been split open, the side of his mouth swelling as if it'd been hit multiple times.

"But he didn't touch me."

"Like I said," Able shrugs, "what'd you think was going to happen?"

We start walking again, moving toward the right bank of the trench.

"Was he this way with Ansley?" I slow, giving us time to finish before he'll get to work with the Gollops or find his place further along down the trench line. Able picks up on the speed change, slowing to match my casual pace.

"Well..." and now he tilts his head, "everyone knew not to touch her... or so he thought. So he didn't seem like it. Plus, Ansley is a Kiss. Her safety is guaranteed through both Clans."

"So..."

"Did he ever go nuts like this?" Able asks the question I'm desperately trying to phrase myself. He shakes his head, his amber eyes grinning. "No. No, this is all for you," he backs up for the Gollops. "See you later, bestie."

By late afternoon, my arms are about to break and, my hands are the shape of tiny claws still trapped under the Senz. I've gone to the Water Pole more times than usual and I'm probably pushing my allowed quota. I don't care. If I don't take another break, I'll do just that—fall apart into tiny broken pieces of myself, scattered over the ashy ground to be carried away on the wind. Or maybe it's for my sanity. So I don't burst out in this agonizing scream I've been suppressing since morning. Either way, I can't take another minute.

I slip my Senz off and toss them in my bucket, heading for the Water Pole. I risk a sideways glance at Tetlak who's by the Castle's portcullis, staff in hand and starring. I half expect him to fly out of his trance, ordering me to stay back and keep working but he doesn't come. And I reach the Water Pole without an issue.

A few people linger, drinking slowly or even waiting to push the button—anything to keep from returning to the Rebuilding. I get my water cup, fill it and down the cool beverage in one long gulp. Nothing tastes better, the icy liquid refreshing the arid depths of my abdomen. Refilling my cup, I take another hearty sip just as the argument starts.

It's on the ground near the trench, but I'm too far to see anything. The voices—both male—grow louder, more aggressive and suddenly, my feet begin moving of their own accord. I'm running in seconds, halfway to the trench when another spine-shattering scream escapes, slicing the air.

Everything stills.

I can't move. I want to, but something in my stomach pins my heels to their post. It's what's ahead—what _might_ be. Pratt, on the ground, paralyzed and caught in one of Tetlak's nets, her eyes a desperate plea for help. Will I be able to resist this time? Or will I fail, unintentionally enacting the counterstrike today, by sheer, raging adrenaline?

The argument rises and I take off again, a huge crowd growing around the silver domes. People fly at each other as I soar through, clawing my way to the storm's epicenter, praying to see another face— _any_ other face—besides hers. Crashing through, my mind races at the sight. It's a young girl, maybe a few years older than Pratt. A thin red line spills from her abdomen, her body twitching as her blank stare sits fixed on the clouded sky above.

I'm yanked back by my wrist. About to snatch my hand free, I turn, finding Reid steering us through the tightly knit and suddenly violent mob. We emerge into the open air just in time, a huge fight breaking out behind us.

"Stay here."

"But..." I push forward.

"Stay here!" he holds my shoulders. I try moving past him but he blocks me back again, raising his voice to a shout. " _Stay here!"_ Reid's off to the fight joining the other Rogues who are already breaking it up as Tetlak swims in the middle.

Everyone is over there, all the Gollop and Transport workers, the Arrivals and new recruits. It's like a magnet drawing all bodies, surrounding the action. They all swarm the fight while that girl lies in the middle, her vacant eyes swimming in my mind. There's got to be some way to save her.

_A Tregmint_!

If she still has a chance, she'll need one. What did Sampson say? _Deep crimson-purple, oval- shaped...thick yellow roots_. They've got to be around here. I look toward the jungle when it flutters past.

The black blur.

I hold my breath and keep motionless, willing it to reappear. A moment and then it does, flying in front of me, right past my nose, almost deliberately. No bigger than a child's fist, it has black toothpick limbs and an opaquely dark head the size of a pinky nail. Another one appears behind it and another, the three hovering inches from my face.

My hand raises slowly, my fingers outstretched to touch them but they withdraw. The yelling continues in the background, quickly dying out. I'm afraid to look and find the status of the fight, in fear they—whatever these creatures are—will go. But they're moving again, forward, in front of my face, demanding my attention. Once they have it, they withdraw again, back toward the gate's entrance, toward the jungle.

_They want you to follow_.

I glance over my shoulder at the fight. There's still a mob around the same area, everyone locking eyes on Tetlak as he growls, jabbing his three-pronged staff to stop it. Biting my lip, I face the gate's entrance again, one of the winged creatures in front of me. It flutters just above my nose, its tiny black arm outstretched for me. Then it flies away, lost in the distance as it disappears for the jungle ahead.

I put logic aside and focus on instinct.

Racing for the Water Pole, I drop to the ground, searching. There's got to be a latch somewhere. That metal ladder Raj and I found—it was here, for the Water Pole. There must be an entrance. I slide my hands over the ground, finding a small metal hook and yank up. Yes! The ladder is right below and I jump down into the darkness.

Blinking, I reach for my Callix.

I hold it outstretched in front of me and it illuminates a foot of sight ahead. Grazing my free fingers along the grainy wood of the surrounding walls, I move slowly, one step at a time, my heart pounding in my chest. I use my right hand to see and my left to guide, maneuvering through the tunnels using Reid's trick. I only come to a few junctions where multiple tunnels cross but I close my eyes, letting my fingertips guide the path. When the texture changes to smooth, tightly-compacted pieces of particles, I stop and open my eyes, backing up. I do this, feeling the texture of the grainy wooden root until it leads me down the correct path. My heart's pounding the entire time, wishing I had someone down here with me. Wishing those flying creatures—whatever they are—were down here, guiding me like before. Why am I even following them?

They need to show you something.

It's the same voice that calls me to Ellae, the one I've only just met, as if part of me was asleep the whole time.

Something important... something you must find...

I use this to urge each foot forward when I desperately want to turn back. But I need to find that Tregmint. I need to be able to save at least _her_ life. Reid is probably freaking out, wondering where I've gone. But he'll understand. And even if he doesn't, it's not about him. I need the Tregmint. I need it for us, for her... the one I still might be able to save.

But I'll need to get it and leave. _Fast_. I'm not even sure how long I've been down here. Everything is broken into seconds. Heartbeats. And I must have had one million of them by now. I've got to be coming to an outlet soon. Just as I start thinking I might have taken a wrong turn somewhere, the ground lifts into four wide steps with an overhanging latch etched into an outline in the wood above.

Thank God.

Sliding my hand through, I hold my breath. This could lead anywhere. Different parts of Ellae... someplace new... but hopefully, to my winged guides who will still be out there. I need them there to remind me this isn't all in my head.

Lifting the handle, I push the door open and freeze.

A howling gust drifts through the quiet shadows of the jungle's oversized silhouettes. It sets a rustling loose and trees shake in response as ivy swings with great abandon, whipping into walls of stone and fauna. Everywhere, a thick white mist settles along the soil, obscuring the ground from sight.

This is it.

Before heading out, I take a mental snap shot, memorizing. To the left, two bushes squat with overflowing tongue shaped leaves. Just off from them, three thin trunks keep close company, lost in coats of moss and ivy. To the far right, a waist-high fragment of wall remains, draped in the same lush exterior, it's stone nearly hidden beneath folds of green.

_Two bushes, three trees, one wall_.

I search my tree for any distinguishable features. There's a slanted carving just inches above the opening and knots like giant onions that spring below one of the upper branches. Holding this image for a moment, another gust howls through, rustling the trees again. With a permanent chill etched in my spine, I carefully climb free, closing the door back behind me, and I head into the mist.

Where are they? Where to go now?

As quickly as I've asked, something flashes ahead. White wings speckled with black. They flutter like fireflies, swimming to each other, to me, and then back again, pulling further past Ellae. I'm in the middle somewhere, in an alley or between homes. The wall fragments don't belong together and each time I slow, trying to map the city in my head, they flutter past again, reminding me.

There's something you must find...

But where's the Tregmint? It can't be much further. We're here, in the heart of the city... where else could it be? We're traveling farther than I imagined Ellae could stretch. When I think they're going to stop, that we're almost there—wherever _there_ is—they sail further inward, pulling me deeper into the jungle, deeper through Ellae's ruinous remains. I pause only a few times, throwing a look over my shoulder, glancing into the blackness behind me.

Is it too late to turn back now?

They're fluttering inches from my nose, drawing me north again. At this point, there's only one way to go. It's forward and that's where I keep my Callix, my heart racing in my chest. I can do this. Find the Tregmint and get back. Just find it and get back. With a deep inhale, I keep going. Soon there are fewer and fewer walls and after a while, they disappear completely.

There's no more city.

Did I miss the Tregmint?

Seriously debating a turn around, I'm led to the edge of the jungle where a thicket of solid, Banyan-sized trees skyrocket, independent of one another and free from the extra fauna that connected them in the jungle. The white mist carries past, coating the ground in its opaque blanket and hiding their gargantuan roots.

Can't turn back now.

I cross the threshold into the darkened forest, my strand of pulsating veils my only source of light. I wish the wind would rustle. I wish there was any other sound besides my heavy breathing reminding me I'm alone. Reminding me of the fear I'm trying to forget. But the distraction never comes and I end up convincing myself it's just the normal sound of a heartbeat.

A faint voice drifts from somewhere ahead and I freeze.

My heart pounds so loud that I'm afraid it'll give me away. But nothing's happening. I'm still as a statue and there's no rustling, no footsteps crunching through leaves. Maybe I imagined it. There's nothing, no sound, no one—

Her voice sails again.

It's a gentle whisper, thin as a veil of smoke and so soft that I almost don't hear it. But it's night, and the only thing that's audible is the thunderous thumping in my chest. Gulping, I try finding breath again as I peer into the darkness ahead.

My white winged guides usher me on, straight for the source of the sound.

Almost there. Just a little farther...

Gripping my Callix, I force myself forward. But I want to turn around. _Right_ now. There's something evil out here. I can _feel_ it. My heart is about to explode under its emphatic racing and suddenly, I'm not sure I'm strong enough to do this alone.

The voice moans louder. "...Gff..."

"H-hello?"

Silence.

"Is..."

A sharp cry followed by quick mumbles, "Gff... gffn... I wone'foget th'marow..."

Every instinct is roaring against this, urging me to flee immediately. To save myself while I still have the chance. It's the fear reflected in Hinson's eyes—in Raj's. It's the fear they felt, coursing through me, pumping in my veins.

Lifting the Callix, which now seems to cast a smaller glow, I search for the voice's owner. But no one's out here. Just trees. Tall, single trees.

"...Wone'foget th'marows next time... Y'did..."

She's right in front of me. But there was no one there a second ago. It was just a tree, the wide trunk of a—

Lifting my Callix, I stifle a scream.

#  Chapter Twenty: Adrenaline

Skin.

_Everywhere_.

It's stretched out, bled white, lifeless. And in the middle, most of a face. Lips lower than they should be, pale white and melded into the trunk. Tufts of blonde hair sprout sporadically. Two blue eyes bat away, lifeless. They don't see me—they don't seem to see anything but stare blankly ahead. I want to look away—the rising bile in my throat strongly suggests it—but I'm stuck.

"Gffn..." her tongue flops, a vacant stare, "...I wone'foget th'marows nest time...y'did... alwez like 'um bess."

It's not real. It's not real. It's not...

I cup my mouth but it's no use. Falling to my knees, I vomit onto an unusual patch of ground. Wiping my mouth with the back of my hand, I push up with my other hand, stopping again. The ground... it feels familiar. It feels strangely...

I stifle another scream.

Skin _everywhere_ —growing off the trees and over the ground, covering the forest floor. Shuffling back to my feet, I lift my Callix, holding my breath. The blossom's light only shines so far, but it's enough. And when I see it, all air leaves my body. A strong part wants to shut down now, give in and succumb to the overwhelming fear that's suffocating me into shock. I'm not seeing what I'm seeing.

It's not real. It's not real. It's not real...

Faces.

_Everywhere—_ as far as the eye can see. Faces and arms and knees and elbows, all sprouting from the trees, melded to it, growing like parasites.

My arm shaking, I hold the Callix to the closest tree again.

"H-Hinson?"

She sniffs suddenly. Her parted lips chomp but are too far to close. She tries chomping again and again but her mouth won't snap shut. A hungry moaning erupts, igniting the others. They all come alive, all snarling over each other, their hungry moans melding to a cacophonous river of terror. The gaping pit in my stomach soars, threatening to hold me here, to keep me here forever if I don't move.

Now.

Spinning, I fly back the way I came, tripping instantly. I scramble up only to fall again, my feet moving too quickly. But they're not moving quickly enough. Faster. I need to be going faster. I need to get away from there, need to put as much distance between them and me. They're all talking over one another, muttering incoherently, and I clamp my hands over my ears.

I can't be here. I can't be here...

I focus on the roots jetting out to trip me again. Watch your footing. Focus on your footing, I instruct myself. Remain calm. You can do this. No matter how terrible you feel. No matter what you're running from—just keep focus.

Keep focus.

The thick white mist doesn't help but after a minute, I get my footing back on track, finding a good rhythm of leaping over the roots. I dropped my Callix at some point so I'm in darkness—complete and utter darkness. And alone. So very alone.

I'm racing through the trees but at a pace slow enough to detect the varying shades of black. The calls still whimper, slicing through the night behind me but they lower with each passing minute. They grow from one undetectable murmur to a soft, faint whisper just as I reach the edge of the jungle again. Flying through, I _desperately_ wish I had my Callix. There are more than just trees here but all sorts of fauna and odd shaped shrubbery. With so many different silhouettes, I can't tell what's what. Leaves, ivy, deadly plants...

_Slow. Just go slow_.

With my hands outstretched, I push through lush foliage, leaves slapping me when I release them too quickly. My feet are dying to take off but I force myself to keep steady. No matter how much I feel like running all the way back, I have to be smart about this. I have to be cautious. Eventually, I make it to Ellae, my eyes fully adjusting to the darkness. Everything is a different shade of black. They all have their own hue, unique to their pigment-like colors and I see it better.

With my heart pounding, I dive through the ruins, swatting past the black and gray ivy, forcing my wobbling legs to keep going. They have nothing left, only the fear racing up my back and pushing me forward like an animal desperate to survive.

Keep going, just keep going.

Beads of sweat trickle past my ears and down my neck. I wipe them clean with the back of my hand, nearing the front of the ruins again. Tripping on a hidden root, I fly forward on the ground, my hands doing their best to reach out and protect me but it doesn't stop the exposed stone from cutting the top of my cheek. A small wound drips a few red beads but I wipe them clean too, pick myself up and keep going.

But which way?

How to get back?

Panic sets in. Everything looks the same. Everything is indistinguishable. How did I expect to find my way back? Gulping, I come to a halt, surveying. Is there any way to tell? Any way at all?

Just as I consider the possibility of being lost out here forever, a flicker of faint light sparks hope. Two pairs of wings circle one another and I race toward them, my hands out to block the path. The wings continue to circle each other, suddenly joined by the third pair, the three sailing through the night at a speed just slow enough for me to follow. They lead me through Ellae until fluttering away, disappearing into the shadows.

What now?

Up ahead, two fat bushes sit, cousins to a grouping of thin trees—three trees. Relief blooms in my stomach as the ivy-coated wall comes into view and I know I'm here.

_Two bushes, three trees, one wall_.

And sitting amongst a grouping of others, another tree boasts a slanted carving mid-trunk and a coupling of knots under a lower branch. I jet forward and pull back the door, flying into the overwhelming darkness of the tunnel inside.

Blackness.

One step at a time. Follow the roots.

With my hands out, clutching the wooden burrow, I force myself not to panic. _Don't panic_. But I can't help it. My mind races with the thought of being alone here—an immense labyrinth—in total darkness, no one knowing. My heart pounds relentlessly, a bomb about to detonate any second.

Relax.

Focus.

Follow.

Just follow the grainy walls. I close my eyes and move forward, led by the texture beneath my fingertips, trusting their navigation. I travel quickly, but not fast, a few times the texture suddenly changing. At this I halt. I back up until feeling the correct material again and keep going in that direction.

When I've got a good rhythm down, images flood back. The hanging lips, the eyes staring blankly and jutting spasms from elbows and fingers. Don't think of that. Think of getting back. Think of telling the others what you've found. They need to know. This is key. If anything, make it back to tell them. To give the others a chance.

I'm not sure how long I'm here, blindly feeling my way through the blackness until my fingers graze over the cool metal ladder. I pause instantly, my eyes jetting open. I can't see anything. But I wrap my fingers around the metal and it comes vaguely into view after a minute. The Water Pole.

I'm inside the gate.

I keep going until coming to a dead-end. Hard. Compact. Marble. I've reached the Castle. With the wall ahead, the only option is left or right. I take the left on a whim, jetting down the passage until meeting the grayed silhouette of a stairwell. I fly up the steps and lean on the first silhouetted door in the wall.

I'm on the second floor of the North East corner. The tower is more or less empty with only a few moving bodies dotting the corridors. Everyone's most likely down at Leisure Time or back in their rooms already, depending on the time.

I arch my neck.

I have to get to the twelfth floor. Sucking in a deep breath, I take off up the stairwell. At the sixth floor, I pause, gasping for breath, holding myself to the railing. Six more floors. And my legs are ready to quit now. Right now. And he might not even be there.

Just a little farther.

Pushing on, I pull myself up, counting the floors as I pass them.

Seventh...

Eighth...

Ninth...

Tenth...

Only two more. My legs can't take it—they're breaking. But they're still working. I'll push them until they won't go. Until they're useless limbs of jelly. And then, I'll drag myself.

Eleventh...

Twelfth...

Panting, I peer down the empty corridor, counting for Reid's door. My legs wobble beneath me as I come up to it, pounding on the crimson arch. It opens immediately, Jace and Tucker already guarding, ready to pounce. When they see me, they stop, shocked. Reid is behind them, his eyes large as discs.

"Fallon?" he races toward me.

I rush into his arms and fall apart. My face sinks into the safety of his shoulder as he lifts me, clasping me to him. After a second he puts me down on the floor in front of him, his eyes shifting between mine. When he speaks, his words are both sharp and tender, worried and relived. "Are you okay? Where _were_ you?"

"They're out there..."

"Fallon," he holds my face in his hands. His eyes narrow at the cut on my cheek, on the mixture of dirt and sweat plastered to my forehead and lips. "Are you okay?"

"I... I..."

"Are you _okay_?" he repeats his words slowly, his dark eyes shifting between mine. His grip on my face is secure—he's not letting me go until he gets the answer he wants.

I nod, tears swelling in my eyes. He needs to know. _Now_. A few drops escape, soaring down my cheeks. "I'm fine. I'm fine," I think of the disfigured trees, of Hinson I left behind. "But they're out there..."

"Who?"

" _Everyone_."

"Come here," he pulls me to his bed and sits me down. He's next to me instantly, scanning, trying to read me for injuries, for clues to what might have happened. His face grows hard at my condition but he keeps himself receptive, his eyes shifting between mine.

Able, Tucker and Jace crouch at my feet and suddenly I remember I'm not alone with Reid. Clark is also here, his back to the wall and his arms crossed over his chest. He's wearing a badge of confusion and surprised concern.

Reid takes my hand. "What happened?"

"I found them. I found _everyone.._."

"Who's everyone?" his eyes narrow further, still searching me for injuries. "Are you talking about the Kings? Did _they_ take you?"

I shake my head. "I left. Past Ellae... there's this place and," I gulp, "I found them—everyone who was taken."

"What do you mean?"

"They're all out there," my voice shakes. I wish he could see what I saw, wish I could transfer the image. "Hinson," I gulp again. "Hinson's out there."

"You found her body?" he tries.

"I found _her_. She's sort of... _alive_."

Reid shakes his head. "Fallon... Hinson is dead."

"But she was talking to Griffin at first..."

"But how could..."

"I don't know, I don't know!" I snap, angry he's forcing me to bring him into the nightmare. "I don't know how it's possible but it _is_ ," my blood heats under the reality. It's worse than I imagined. Worse than all of us could have imagined. But they need to know. They _need_ to. "The missing people _aren't_ dead. Something happened to them. They're... _deformed_ ," my voice trembles with the word. "Out in the woods beyond Ellae."

The boys lock eyes with one another—even Clark.

Is she crazy? Do we believe her?

The questions are being tossed around in long glances, no one ready—or willing—to counter. Could it all be in my head? Could I have been hit so hard that I passed out, imagined the whole thing and then woke up and escaped?

"Suit yourselves," I jump from the bed, suddenly aware of how weak I am. "I'm telling Sampson." My legs nearly give out but Able grabs a hold of my waist as I nearly plummet to the floor. Reid is on my right side, wrapping his arm around me, steadying me.

"We'll tell Sampson together," he wipes my brow with his thumb. He surveys my face, his eyes lingering on the cut on my cheek. He winces, "Did you really go out past Ellae?"

I nod.

"God, Fallon," he shakes his head, squeezing me to him. He doesn't say any more but after a second turns to Tucker. "Sampson at Leisure or in his room?"

"Last I heard Leisure," Able shrugs, "but he never stays that long. My bet's his room."

Reid turns to me, sliding his hand in mine, "Let's go."

Clark exits first, followed by Able, then Reid and me, Tucker and Jace. We all fly through the corridor, taking the North East stairwell down to the fifth floor. My legs are so unstable from all the climbing before, I have to stop multiple times to wait for my muscles to ease up. At one point, Able mumbles toward Reid, "I can carry her if you want."

"If anyone carries her, I'll carry her," Reid moves for me.

"No one's carrying me," I withdraw. "I'm fine. Just exhausted. What floor is this?"

"Seventh," Jace answers.

"Two more. Think you can make it?" Reid asks with sincerity in his voice. If I say no, he's ready to pull me into his arms but I can do it. I nod, focusing on reaching Sampson. We reach his floor and move down to his door. Reid knocks twice. "Reid."

He retrieves his sirolla and without waiting for a response, opens Sampson's door, our entire group piling in without an invitation. Tucker pulls the door shut just as Sampson turns from gazing out the window.

"Gentlemen," his word is sad as though prepared to address a mourning. But then he sees me, pleasantly startled, relieved. " _Fallon_? I thought..." and he looks to Reid.

"Wasn't the Kings."

"What happened?" his eyes scan mine intensely. "Are you alright?"

Tucker, Able and Jace retreat for the wall and bed on the right side of the bunker while Clark sticks to the left. Reid remains a step behind me, always in reach. Taking a heavy breath, I chisel it down to the roots. "I found the missing people. They're out in the woods, past Ellae," I steady my voice, "They're not dead."

Sampson's brows pinch at the crescent of his nose, his eyes in narrow slits, unconvinced.

"I don't know how it's possible, but it is," I'm anxious to defend myself. "They're growing on the trees... or _into_ the trees or something. I..."

"Where?"

Does this mean he believes me? "Past Ellae. In the center of a thicket of trees."

"Could you find your way back?"

"Of course."

"And how did you find it?" his blue eyes narrow further. "How'd you know where to go?"

"There were these bug-creatures..." I remember them suddenly, "...black... but their wings turned white at night. _They_ led me."

"They've come to you?" Sampson's interest peaks at this piece of news. The room stills with the one question on everyone's mind.

"Who?"

But suddenly, Sampson remembers his company and quickly shifts focus, "They led you, and then what happened?"

"I heard something. A voice," I gulp, "it was Hinson. She was saying she wouldn't forget the Marows..."

"What else?" Reid probes.

"Just that she wouldn't forget them. Then..."

"Then what?"

Another gulp. "Then she started trying to bite at me. Like she was hungry."

"How many?" Sampson asks. "How many people did you see?"

"I don't know," I shake my head, suddenly ashamed for being such a coward. "There were too many. Fields. And they're alive, all of them."

"I know death when I see it, Fallon. Hinson was dead. _Is_ dead. We don't know how she died but we know something was done to her beforehand. Why else would this happen to her corpse?"

"No. They were alive. I _heard_ her."

"Lingering voice cells... let me guess, involuntary blinking?"

"But she called out for Griffin. She _knew_ who Griffin was."

"I can't explain it, Fallon, I'm sorry. Perhaps it's some sort of unsuccessful reanimation..." and at this, Sampson stops, stunning himself into a trance. As far as he's concerned, the rest of us have vanished as a curious, unsettling look exudes from his vacant eyes. Something's just snapped. Or gone off. Or awoken in that mind of his that demands immediate attention. What could he have stumbled upon?

"Oh dear," the color returns to his cheeks as he breaks the silence with quick, discomforting words. "I do beg your pardon but I must leave immediately." And with that, Sampson flies to the door without a look at us.

Reid is at his heel. "What's wrong? Can we help?"

Turning, Sampson shakes his head apologetically. "Something's just come up. Something I need to go over, in privacy. Quietly inform the others of what you know and we'll reconvene tomorrow at Camp," he turns to me. "Fallon will lead us back."

When Sampson leaves, I spin to Reid. "You're going to tell the Rogues?"

"They need to know," he turns to Tucker. "Have the word put out for tomorrow at Camp, same as before. Griffin too," he places a hand on Jace's shoulder. "Let them know Fallon's been found and to strike all former orders other than normal assignments. Fallon," and now Reid extends his hand to me, "we need to do a walk-through. Let the others know you're here. Put to rest any rumors that the Kings are gaining ground."

"Has it spread that fast?"

"Some Clients' sole duties are to report your whereabouts to the Kings. The second you disappeared, people started speculating."

"Kings took it as their opportunity," Able sighs, "and let the rumors fly."

"Okay," I look to Reid. "One walk-through and then rest. For me at least."

"Of course. Just one walk-through and we'll leave. Promise." He squeezes my hand, nodding to Tucker and Able as we emerge again, heading downstairs into the Auditorium.

It's more packed than usual. With all the new Arrivals and not many lists called of late, the Castle is at full capacity. It's difficult to navigate the sea of bodies but Reid and I make it down the stairwell and to the West Wall. As I'm about to walk out, he pulls me back.

"Okay listen," he turns, leaning in, "we can't be obvious like we're flaunting you. It has to be like you never left. You have to seamlessly move through, like you normally would. Like you were just sick up in your room all day," he focuses harder, making sure I understand him, "because that's what's going out about you. You have whatever they're putting on us—berry juice poison. But you feel fine now so you're back to business," his eyes narrow, shifting between mine. "Think you can handle that?"

"Why not?" I shrug, "I've got the exhaustion to prove it."

"Good girl."

"One lap.

"And then head straight up to your room. I'll be right behind you."

I inhale deeply, ready for the final voyage. Forcing myself forward, I keep to the perimeter of the outer Maze, weaving in and out of bodies. Many faces are new, confused... cautious. Still unsure of what to make of all this, of what they've been told. Like I was, back when I was still an Arrival. Moving through them, I round the South Wall, scanning each face.

Starting to head for the East Wall, someone grasps my wrist and tugs me into the thriving pit of dancing bodies. He pulls me close to him, his golden eyes flickering between mine, worried.

"You all right, Fallon?"

"I'm fine," I exhale, relieved to see Walker.

His sights settle on the cut before taking in the dirt on my forehead, chin and nose. His anxious countenance turns rigid.

"What happened to your face?" he brushes his thumb over my cheek, his eyes narrowing in anger. "Did someone do this to you?"

"No one," I shake my head, knocking his hand to the side. "I'm fine, really."

"How'd you cut your cheek here?"

"I fell," I admit, knowing how much that sounds like a lie. "I just fell. But I'm fine..." I try pushing past. But he's solid, like a wall, holding his ground and jumping to block me as I try to dodge.

"I'm not letting go," he leans in, lowering his voice, "until you tell me the truth."

Suddenly, Walker's focus shifts to something behind me. He's already retreating when I'm yanked back by my elbow and out of the line of fire, just in time for Chief and Jace to put their bodies between Walker and Reid, who storms forward, a bull to the red flag. The two Clansmen throw both hands on their leader but Reid doesn't stop advancing.

Walker's shaking his head, palms up in defense. "Just asking if she was all right—that's all."

Reid keeps going, his fists hanging by his thighs. Once he gets near enough, once Chief and Jace give him the opportunity, he'll let it out. Until then, he flies forward, gaining inches as Walker looks around him, wondering if he should just bolt. The surrounding dancers notice the hostility and stand back, watching silently.

I'm pulled back again and turn to find Able. He winks at me, his eyes glazed over the scene ahead. Reid bulldozes his way forward, spinning suddenly to his left, then right, throwing off both Clansmen, attempting to dart past.

"Uh...be a sec!" Able dashes by, helping restrain Reid who is nearly colliding with Walker.

"Just asking if she was all right. That's all."

"Walker," Tucker runs up suddenly, pointing. "Head out, man."

Chief, Jace and Able keep Reid from flying across and using those two murderous fists he's been itching to use. Walker offers one final glance my way before disappearing into the crowd. Reid goes after him, pulling all three—now four—along with him.

And I feel it again—the obsidian stare cutting into me. My heart picks up as I scan the nearby dancers, taking in the entire scene.

I see him.

Maybe a yard away, Mantis stands solid in a sea of thriving, grinding bodies, his black eyes narrowing on me. He starts to move but suddenly I'm blocked.

Kelly turns, arms crossed over his shoulder. "Shouldn't have gotten that close. If your boy wasn't going ape shit right now, the perimeter would've been tighter," he shakes his head, mumbling to himself. "Ah... fuck Walker."

"Where is he?" I step closer." _Reid_?"

"Probably punching the shit out of something."

Walker? Are they fighting?

"How long does it take him to calm down?"

Kelly shrugs. "Could be a while."

"Could you walk me back to my room?"

He looks around, desperately hoping to find Reid and the others returning. This wasn't part of his orders.

"You sure you don't want to just wait for him?" Kelly's still searching, clearly uncomfortable. "I'll wait with you."

"No. I'm tired. I need to lie down."

"Um..."

But just as he starts to nod, Reid sweeps through the dancers, the crowd automatically parting for him. Tucker, Able, Chief and Jace follow, obvious exhaustion in their faces. Without even glancing at me, Reid steals my hand, leading me out of the thicket of bodies and toward the closest stairwell. The others leave us at the steps and once we're in the Courtyard, he sweeps one arm under my knees and the other behind my back, lifting me to him in one quick motion. He doesn't stop walking—doesn't even slow. One second my feet are on the ground and the next, I'm in the air.

"I'm fine," I struggle but his arms are solid bars, cradling me into his chest.

After a minute of refusing to let me down, exhaustion takes over and I succumb, melting into the comfort of his arms. He's focused on an image playing behind his narrowed eyes, his mouth tight, holding it all in. I'm almost afraid to speak, to trigger whatever piece of sanity he's grasping so I let him carry me upstairs to my room where he places me gently down on the bed, then quickly retreats into the shadows of the opposite corner. A long minute passes.

"You going to tell me what happened back there?"

He looks up, surprised, like he'd forgotten I was in the room with him. "Sorry..." he paces, gnawing the tip of his thumb. "I had to."

"Had to what?"

But he shakes his head.

"Why?"

He stops pacing and looks at me. "He touched you."

"But he didn't—"

"He _touched_ you," Reid growls. His eyes shift between mine, examining me, reminding himself who he's talking to. He retreats to the corner of the room again. "He's lucky I held back."

" _That_ was holding back?"

He resumes pacing, gnawing on his thumbnail. "If I'd wanted him dead, I would've killed him the first time."

I want to ask about it, to know what exactly happened with Ansley but it's not the time. There is too much racing around in my head, too much horror to contemplate. I lie back on the bed and curl up in the navy rags, one thought rising above the rest.

"What happened to the girl?"

"Hmm?" he looks up.

"The one from the fight... Did she make it?"

Reid sighs and slowly shakes his head.

I feel like crying, but utter exhaustion takes over, already willing me into a deep coma. "I'm going to sleep."

Reid nods but makes no attempt to head for the door.

"Are you staying?"

"Just until you fall asleep."

"You don't have to..." it comes out a murmur, my lids growing heavy.

"I'm not leaving you after what you saw tonight. Just," he exhales, "sleep. I'll leave in a bit."

"Okay..."

I think he says something after that but I'm too far gone to know for sure.

***

Reid assumes the center position in the overcrowded hovel.

The Rogues, Sampson, Vix, Pratt, Clark and Griffin wait in silence as Reid motions me to the middle with him. When I join him, he clamps his hand in mine, threading our fingers together. "Fallon is leading us."

"Where exactly are we going?" Clark asks.

"For those of you who have not heard, last night, when Fallon went missing, she was _not_ taken by the Kings as we thought. She _left_ ," he stresses, "she ventured out here— _beyond_ here—and found the truth of what the Dofinikes are doing."

Everyone's focus shifts to me, a thousand questions bubbling in their nonplussed gazes. Reid is about to explain further, answering a few of the most obvious questions but I beat him to it, stepping in front of him to address the group.

"I'm sorry to have put you through that. Believe me when I say it wasn't intentional. But as much as I hate to admit it, I'm glad it happened," I inhale a large gulp of air. "I needed to find this to tell you. What they're doing to us—what they've _done_."

"Which is?" Kelly asks.

"I found everyone who's been taken. They're way out past here. _Far_ ," I give it a moment to sink in, so they understand what I'm saying, "where they wouldn't expect us to go. Where they think we'd never be able to get. But I saw them... and you will too."

"Well what'd you find?" someone asks. "Are they alive?"

"Are they okay?" another voice pops through.

"What'd you find?" a third voice tries.

"Rogues," Reid addresses the room and everything falls silent again. "It's time we move out."

"Fallon," Sampson gently asks, "just north of Ellae? How far?"

"About twenty minutes if you're going slow." I catch Reid's grimace next to me. He shuts his eyes, shaking his head, punishing himself for allowing this—allowing me to be out here, all alone and in the dark. I focus on Sampson again, "Which you should. Especially at the forest."

"Ready to lead the way?" he heads to the door across the way, the Rogues parting for us. He unlatches the wooden door and opens it to the darkness.

"If you'll light it," I glance to his babeeb.

Sampson holds his arm out, the golden glowing sphere hovering just above his open palm as we move into the darkness of the tunnel. We're only underground for a few minutes and take a couple of different tunnels when we come to a wooden stairwell. Sampson leads everyone outside and once he closes the trunk's door behind us, Reid turns to me.

"Straight ahead?" he asks.

"Where's Ellae?"

Sampson gestures ahead and to the left. We take off in the direction, following his guide until falling upon the broken city. A few murmurs of excitement, confusion—mostly shock—float behind us as we move in and out of Ellae's aged walls. It takes about twenty minutes to move past Ellae, to where the lush jungle ends and a great field of monstrously large Banyan-like trees begins.

This is where my stomach gets queasy.

My foot lifts only to drop again, wishing to remain where it is. It doesn't make sense—on an animalistic level—to return to a scene so unnatural. I know what I'm walking into. They don't. It's easier for them.

"Fallon," Sampson rests on my shoulder. "Are you alright?"

It's not the time to chicken out. I made a deal I'd take them and that's what I plan on doing. Reid takes my hand in his, threading our fingers. This little gesture gives me the last bit of courage I need. Taking a heavy breath and one hesitating step—the first of many—we emerge into the darkened forest, the soft glow of Sampson's babeeb lighting our path.

He keeps a good pace on my left, his long legs gliding over the roots with easier strides. Pratt is near my right and the Rogues, spread thin just behind her. We come to the tremendous roots and I take caution, climbing over slowly, instructing the others to do the same.

We've only passed a few trees when Sampson turns to me, keeping his babeeb outstretched. "Which way?"

"Just a little further," I veer toward the left, the group following the new direction with fast, furious steps. We're getting close. But the silence makes me nervous and for a moment, I wonder if I imagined the whole thing. Is it possible it was all in my head—some crazy, brutish nightmare? And if that's the case, what kind of credibility would I have left? Just as I'm cursing myself for hallucinating the whole thing, an agonized cry rips through the night air, stunning our migration to a halt.

Reid looks to me, searching for confirmation. This is what I heard, right? I nod, moving forward but he keeps me behind him as we go. The others condense around us, the moan ahead growing louder. We step into the first wave and holding my breath, I scan the horrifying scene.

#  Chapter Twenty-One: Blovid's Help

At first, you don't realize what you're looking at.

I remember now.

You think it's just another tree, the same as the hundreds you've passed... but then they start moving. The body parts. The vacant eyes staring ahead, intently and at nothing. The fingers, wiggling erratically, then hushing to a still, only to spasm again.

"What the..." one of the Rogues mutters as a scream breaks out. I think it's Pratt. Vix catches her before she hits the floor and turns to Sampson.

"Sympse?" Vix whispers softly, glancing around the lot.

"They're _people_ ," Able exclaims. "On the trees—they're people!"

Curses break out, each grasping what's suddenly at stake. Pratt cups her hand over her mouth, running to vomit outside the lot. I keep her in view—the last thing we need is for someone to go missing out here. Griffin follows in Pratt's response, falling to his knees and regurgitating near the same patch of skinned floor.

" _Gross_ ," Clark curses under his breath, throwing a glare my way. "You couldn't tell us this before?"

"You'd believe me?"

"At least we'd have a warning. An _idea_."

"To cushion the blow?" I walk deeper into the lot, "You need to be _angered_ ," I clutch my fists, my voice trembling at the word. It's important they understand this. "I don't want to take away your _anger_."

I scan the faces but the others seem horrified. Frightened. Uncertain. Even if I told them what they were walking into, they'd be just as shocked. What they need is time to absorb it, like I had. Time to wrap their minds around it, to soak in its reality, allowing the one true emotion to surface in its wake—fury.

A soft, aching whimper sails toward us, and Reid and Tucker fly in its direction, trying to locate the source of the voice. They're searching for only a minute when suddenly, Griffin comes barreling out of nowhere, knocking past them.

"I wone'foget th'marows nest time..."

"Hinson?" he tries, his voice enthralled at the word, " _Hinson_?"

"...th'marrows nest time..."

"Hinson!" he calls again, confused, searching around frantically, trying to find her. He collides into a tree, pressing his fingers all over the trunk. "Where are you?"

Finally he sees it—the two lips unnaturally separated. He stops, watching them move again, matching the sound to their movement. Her eyes blink emphatically, but can't see him, staring ahead at nothing.

"Hinson?"

She stops and sniffs, her lips snapping shut. She tries again, chomping down as a ravenous moan escapes.

"Hinson?"

She snaps her lips again, trying to take a bite, a voracious growl escaping.

"What happened?" he yells. "What _happened_ to you?" Tears gush as he falls to his knees, sobbing at the base of the tree. "What happened?"

"You remember her?" I ask just over his shoulder. "You remember Hinson?"

Griffin doesn't answer, only continues to sob, his hands clobbering his face like giant mitts, hiding it. We're probably not even here to him right now and so I turn my question to Sampson, confusion in my eyes.

"There's a loophole, of course—always an out. In case something went wrong. There would have to be a way to retract what was done. In this case, your memories of her. It appears voice recognition is the key."

"So obvious?" Reid asks.

"Well, you're not supposed to be out here..." Sampson reminds him, "so..."

"But the others?" Pratt's back at my side, wiping her mouth clean. "Are they _all_ out here?"

Before I have time to wrap my mind around the gravity of her question, Griffin is on his feet, tugging two of Hinson's elbows free but getting nowhere. She's snapping at him but he keeps trying, tears gushing down his face. He pulls so hard that he loses balance and falls backwards onto the skinned floor. He scrambles up but Reid's at him in an instant, pinning him to the ground.

Then Griffin slams his fist into his jaw.

It's so sudden that no one expects it, especially not Reid who absorbs the swing fully, rolling to the ground at the mere impact. He's on his feet again in seconds, as if he'd merely fumbled—as if it'd been a simple error of balance. Griffin tries scrambling up but Tucker, Chief and a few others retrain him. Reid approaches, massaging his jaw.

"I'm not trying to fight you," he exhales. "No one is."

Griffin tries breaking free again but Reid signals to the Rogues. They drag him away but he cries out, nearly escaping. He's tackled and then pinned to the ground again. I glance to Reid.

"Are you okay?" I mouth.

He nods.

Part of me wants to kick Griffin for hitting Reid without cause. But the other part understands. The anger pumping through your veins. The adrenaline. Of wanting to kill something. _Someone_. Wanting to hurt them so they know what you're feeling.

Pratt asked a question before, a question that made me queasy.

Are all the others out here too?

I already know the answer.

"Raj?" I dart from tree to tree, knowing she can't hear me. "Raj?"

"Fallon!" Reid calls behind me, holding a babeeb out to light our way. "Stop!"

The trees light up at my cry, some mumbling while others chomp down as I pass. Pratt throws her hands over her ears just as Reid catches up with me. He grabs my elbow, yanking me back toward him. "Wait! You can't even see where you're going."

"But she—"

"You're not going to find—"

"They're lovely, Marshall," Raj's soft voice joins the others, "you shouldn't have."

I stop. "Raj?"

Reid holds out the babeeb, the shadows vanishing as Raj's mutated form comes into view. She grows more autonomous than Hinson, her jaw, neck and shoulder free. But the skin on her torso and forehead meld into the bark, strapping her to it. Her arms are lost; but both knees, calves and thighs protrude.

"Raj?" My heart is thumping wildly. "Raj? Can you hear me?"

Her vacant eyes stare out, seeing nothing. "I hate digging. You'd think they'd notice if we skipped?"

"Raj?"

"Thank you..." her pale lips pull back into a grin. "They're lovely, Marshall. You shouldn't have..."

"Please Raj..." I put myself in her eye line. She stops talking and sniffs, chomping down, trying to bite me. An ungodly sound emits from her snapping jaw as she tries ripping herself free.

"Get back!" Reid yanks me toward him.

Raj snarls again, biting down over and over, trying to tear her skin restraints free. A deep moan escapes as she hisses.

"What is this?" I turn to Sampson. "What happened?"

He's grouped with the others behind me, all standing rigid. Tucker and the rest of the Rogues approach, except the few still keeping Griffin pinned down.

I gesture to Raj over my shoulder. "Is there a way to undo this?"

"Unfortunately not."

"So we can't help her?" Pratt asks, joining my side. "None of them?"

"I'm afraid not," Sampson sighs. "I wish there was something to be done for them but at this point... I'm afraid it's too late."

"How is this possible?" Reid asks. "Do you know what happened to them?"

"Ah..." Sampson gulps, "there's much to be discussed. Much to inform you about. Especially you, Fallon," he turns to me directly, "with my sincerest apologizes. In my recent understanding of events, you were partially right in your assumption."

"About what?"

"Their state of existence."

I narrow my eyes. "How do you know?"

"I've confirmed it with Blovid."

It takes me a minute to recognize the name. Sampson used it once before when telling me a long story. That's right... Blovid had something to do with the massacre on Harrizel. What had he said about him again?

"How am I _partially_ right?"

Sampson takes a breath, glancing around the faces and then, to the mutated lot. To Raj, just feet away, melted into the tree, her own skin restraining her to it. "Perhaps this isn't the best place to talk?"

"Camp?"

Sampson nods, locking eyes with Reid who's quick to dismiss the Rogues. They start back the way we came, everyone filing away silently. I glance back at Raj. How can I leave her like this? Out here, mutilated, unable to escape?

"Come on," Reid tugs.

We head back to Camp in near silence, except for a few unsettling coughs and a quiet, but endless bellowing from Griffin. Once we reach the trunk, I make for Sampson, narrowing my eyes. "You said I'm partially right? _How_?"

"Yes. I've confirmed with Blovid..." Sampson takes a moment, "...they're attempts at reanimation."

I'm about to say something but shut my mouth immediately. There's only one word I can form. "Reanimation?"

Sampson said it yesterday, right before going into his trance. The word unnerved me then, but I put it away, burying it beneath his momentary mental flight and the worry of telling everyone what I saw. But now, as Sampson says it again, the word, eerie and evil at its core, springs up once more, setting a chill over me.

"To create an army, we believe."

"An army?" Reid glances to me, then back to Sampson again. "For what?"

"Sympse," Vix places a hand on his arm, her velvety voice alarmed."You're not saying it is true?"

She seems to understand and judging by the horror marring her face, it's not good. Sampson nods, glancing around at all of us, everyone in the compacted burrow, inhaling a deep breath.

"The Dofinikes..." he begins, his words shaky, "...are at war with each other. The human massacre years ago was only the beginning of the split. Those who wanted the genocide completed went mad, secretly seeking ways to strike back at the ones who ordered the cease-fire."

"Blovid," I say. "He was the Dofinike leader who ordered it to stop?"

Sampson nods.

"And what?" Clark sneers. "They're still trying to get him back?"

"In so many words... " Sampson glances around at us. "Reuzkimpart wanted the genocide complete. _Still_ does. It is my understanding—along with Blovid's—that Reuzkimpart wants to create an army, an army capable of reanimation after death. An army... even Blovid is unable to defeat."

"I don't get it," Clark shakes his head, "if Reuzkimpart wants us dead, then why reanimate us?"

"He _does_ want you dead. But he wants you to kill _yourselves_. You saw what they did," Sampson gestures to the hovel's wooden door, "what they tried. This reanimation would be for the sole purpose of tearing down other humans. You'd be destroying yourselves. It'd be..." he searches for a way to better explain it, "like unleashing a hoard of zombies on earth."

Silence sits in the air like a soluble mist. No one wants to say it. No one wants to even think it, let alone admit to its reality. We're an endless supply of easily discarded tools to create an impenetrable army to ensure our own demise.

"You'd eradicate yourselves without them ever having to lift a finger. And," he sighs, "by the look of Raj, they're getting closer."

"Well what do we do? How do we stop it?" Clark asks.

"They've started war," Chief says, more curses and questions flying through the room.

"He's going to keep going until it works, right? Until he gets his army?" I look to Sampson who nods. "Then we _have_ to retaliate."

"Yes, but _how_?" Clark whines.

"We find the memories. We use them as currency to buy our supporters. We _mobilize_ ," I lock eyes with Reid and Tucker. "When the timing is right, attack. What we found tonight doesn't change anything. Sampson," I turn to him, "you said a three to five day window. Any clue when that might come up?"

"As a matter of fact, Blovid has given me the green light for eleven days from now. He's been made aware of a Vermix meeting at that time..."

"Vermix?" I ask.

"Means _true to Dellapalania,_ " Sampson exhales sadly. "It's what we're taught—that Dellapalania should always be put first. It is _not_ a belief in the Way or honoring the Three Worlds and Three Gifts."

"So," I'm still trying to put this all together, to make sense of all the new terms and events, "Arizals and Vermix are..."

"Enemies, at least as of the massacre..." Sampson explains, "and it's only getting worse. Blovid has informed me of a Vermix meeting in eleven days and supposedly, it's to discuss progress on this very project. They'll unite to discuss their secret weapon—the undefeatable army being built here on Harrizel."

" _Us_." Pratt confirms.

"The meeting—as I'm to understand—is supposed to last for ten days, at which point Beshib will return with more Vermix and by then, it'll be too late," Sampson glances around. "They want more testing done, more _desirable_ results. They're getting closer but Reuzkimpart is impatient," Sampson locks eyes with Reid, then me. "This is when we have to move."

Reid soaks in the words like Tucker and the Rogue Commanders next to him, lost in their own quick analysis of what's been revealed. Are they scheming their own plans to victory? What have they come up with?

I look to Sampson. "Eleven days?"

"It's our best shot."

"And the Kings?" Jace poses, a quick glance at Chief before he crosses his arms. "They're still as real a threat as the Dofinikes."

"The Vermix," Reid corrects.

"Right," he nods. "They'll need to be dealt with. If there's any hope to take the Castle."

"So we deal with them first," Able says.

"Yeah," Clark sighs with annoyance, "but _how_? Got any ideas on this one?" he directs the question to me.

"Not this second," I glower, "but we'll come up with something."

"Like?"

"Maybe using you as bait to draw them out here," I smirk before turning to Reid. "How many are we talking again?"

"Looking at about fifty Kings."

"And their Clients? Scouts? Would they pose a threat?"

He shrugs, "Depends. Most Clients are too scared to leave or change sides. If the Kings were removed completely, I don't see them as much trouble."

"And the Scouts?"

Tucker scoffs. "Loyal as all hell."

"But most Scouts are younger," Able adds, "easily overridden, _especially_ if we get our hands on those weapons you were talking about the other night..."

"Do we have any idea where they are or how to get them?" I turn back to Sampson.

"Unfortunately, I'm not privy to that information... but perhaps," he looks at Vix beside him. She nods and Sampson's brows lift in hope, glancing back to me. "Jothkore may be able to help. But it must be at the right time. If he's exposed as an Arizal before we take the Castle, he'll be forced into slavery like us and won't be much help."

"So when do we secure the weapons?" Tucker asks.

"Guns?" Jace presumes. "I'd feel much better with a rifle in my hands."

"I'm sure there'll be some," Sampson nods, "a few copies of what was found on Arrivals, but mostly, I expect Dellapalanian weaponry."

"Don't forget our own," Drenz throws out.

"Finely made, I might add," Rooney nods.

"And once we're armed?" Clark asks, readdressing the room with doubt. "Then what?"

"We take it back," I say. " _Obviously_."

"Yeah but _how_?"

"We'll use Reminders... everyone will already be there, waiting to hear something anyway. Why not give them the truth this time?"

"If we tell them at Reminders, when do we get the weapons?" Tucker asks. "Remember, we need to find the memories too."

"After Rebuilding ends," Pratt suggests. "We'll have thirty minutes."

"Will that be enough time?" Clark gripes. "I hardly think..."

"No, no she's right. It'll be the only time the guards won't be guarding. It's free period for a reason, right? We'll be able to move without everyone seeing us. And we can't act before then..."

"Why not?" Clark snaps, assuming I don't have an answer ready.

"Because everyone won't filter out of work without the guards and we need them to be in the Auditorium like usual. If the guards are gone, it'll be chaos and they'll scatter. No, we need everyone in one place, surrounded by _our_ guard," I glance to the others. "It's the only time we can."

"But thirty minutes to find the weapons, take out Tetlak and the others _and_ locate our memories?" Clark scoffs, shaking his head at the improbability of it. "It's ridiculous—we'll never be able to do it."

"We don't _have_ to find our memories the same night. Once we take the Castle, we'll have time to find them then," I look to Sampson. "What'd you say, ten days?"

"But come on!" Clark gripes, scanning faces for support. "Thirty minutes? That's crazy!"

"Crazy. But not impossible."

Sampson's mouth perks up. "So we have a plan, yes?"

"We'll still have to deal with the Kings," Chief speaks up.

"And with only eleven days..." Able says. "It'll have to be done fast."

"Okay," I tap my fingers over my lips, "figure out a way to remove the Kings and notify Jothkore to locate and secure the weapons. The day Beshib leaves, we'll do it," I keep my voice strong, steady. "No turning back."

"But..." Clark starts.

"When Beshib returns, everything will change," Sampson says. "Fallon's right. This is our chance."

I turn to Reid who's been silent this whole time. Finally, he nods, sights still focused on the ground. "We'll find the memories once we've taken control of the base. Tucker, you and I will get with Jothkore on his next delivery. I'll think on the Kings. We'll reconvene here when there's a plan in place for them."

The Rogues nod, Clark sighs loudly and Griffin merely sniffles in the back. I'd forgotten he was here. Reid must have too, because he turns, calling for him as the Rogues make a path back to where he silently sobs in the corner.

"Griffin," Reid says, approaching slowly. "I can't understand what you're going through right now but you've got to listen to me. You cannot, _cannot_ ," he stresses again, "tell anyone what we saw tonight. No one."

"And the Scouts?" Pratt asks. "Should they know?"

Reid shakes his head, "No. Let's keep this between us. There's no point in scaring them. Let's keep business going as usual and when we take control of the Castle, that's when they'll know. Sound good?" Everyone nods again as he turns to Griffin. "Yes?"

But Griffin stares off at nothing, beyond Reid. Can he even hear us? Has he heard any of this?

"Griffin?" Reid asks again, snapping in his face. "In there, buddy? Griffin?"

This time, his eyes focus and he sees Reid. He blinks, taking in the room and all the staring, bewildered faces that look on with empathy. Gulping, his eyes shift to me, then Sampson, trying to put everything together.

Reid snaps again. "Up front buddy."

This time Griffin sees him. "Yeah."

"You heard what I said?" Reid puts his face in front of Griffin's, keeping their eyes locked. "You can't tell anyone about tonight. About anything you saw, all right? This is important. I'm going to need you to do this for me. Griffin?"

"Yeah," he nods quickly, lowering his head, "but she's out there..." his voice shaky, "they're all..."

"I'm serious—I need you to do this for me. For the Rogues. If there's any chance of helping her, we'll need to take back the Castle and that means keeping quiet."

Griffin nods, looking up again. Glancing around the watchful eyes of the Clansmen, then at Sampson and me, he finally finds Reid. "I promise I won't say anything."

"As your new assignment?"

Griffin blinks, nonplussed but slow to nod, "... As my new assignment."

"Good," Reid nods, lightly clapping the side of his shoulder. He turns to Kelly and Able, "Have Marley take his spot and double his pay."

"Rox," Griffin springs to his feet, "you don't have to worry. I won't say anything. I promise."

Reid turns and shakes his head. "You've had a night. This is the least I can do for you."

"I'm sorry I hit you."

"Don't be. Would've done the same thing," he rubs his jaw, "although you got one hell of a swing. I think you loosened some teeth. Ever thought about being a Clansman?" The Rogues laugh just as Reid spins around, clapping to sum up. "All right, we're all clear on what's happening?"

"Rogues!" they all shout in unison.

"Good," he nods, motioning for the door. "Then let's head back."

***

I'm outside digging

It's been quiet all morning and all I can think about are the eleven days we have left. Will we resolve what to do with the Kings by then? And what if Jothkore can't secure the weapons? How will we—

Voices shout down by the Gollops. They grow heated, then die out and it's back to silence. I drag my Senz to the gibb again, my mind wandering when the voices spark. This time, people sprint through the trench, racing toward the argument which has grown to full-on yelling. I'm moved along by people passing by, bodies pouring out of the trough to watch the fight. Shifted this way and that, I'm on the ground with the others, right in the middle of the thicket of bodies surrounding the roaring duel.

A scream shoots through the air. It's a female voice, young and familiar.

Pratt.

#  Chapter Twenty-Two: Attack

She's on the opposite side of the mob, clutched in the arms of one of the Kings who followed me to my bunker. He has one hand clamped over her mouth and the other across her stomach, lifting her. Pratt struggles, kicking both legs into his but he drags her back with ease. Looking behind him, he makes for the far left flank.

No one sees. They're still gathered around the fight, which Tetlak hasn't broken up yet. Where is he?

Pratt will be gone any second. It ignites a spark of adrenaline but as I start for her, a hand slips over my own mouth, crushing my jaw under a steel grip. I'm slammed back into a stone body, an arm cutting across my stomach. He picks me up, retreating, and we're out of the crowd in seconds. My arms are bolted to my side so I swing my legs as hard as possible. Finding his, I kick over and over, jamming my heels into shins. He only crushes me tighter.

"Hold still, _bitch_."

But I keep kicking as hard as I can, over and over until he drops me. Clutching my wrist in his hand, his free one raises to hit me but I thrust my foot in the soft patch between his legs. He pushes me from him, letting out a gasp as he cups himself and falls to his knees. I take advantage and bolt back for the fight.

I don't get too far.

Two Kings stand between me and the crowd, their bodies like impenetrable walls. Grinding my heels into the cracked dirt, I do a quick scan of movement. From my angle, the horde has its back to me, everyone still focused on the fight in the middle. Tetlak is nowhere to be seen and Yerza and Norpe are gone as well. There's no way to the crowd but through them—the two Kings.

They take off for me at a dead run.

I spin, hating the direction. But there's no other way. The trench cuts off the right and the Castle's left corner blocks my other side. My only option is back toward the Transport, where I've never been and it's far from everyone else.

It's suicide.

I need to stay where others can see me but those two Kings are flying at me and quickly closing the gap between us. They're going to drag me back here anyway. My heart's racing, thumping wildly as I quickly try to recalculate.

What to do? Which way?

I'll have to jet back around, _through_ them. A sharp turn maybe? But how? Passing the Castle's corner, I stop in my tracks. Two more Kings. What _now_? My blood races, my heart threatening to implode. Not sure where to go. Forward or back? Forward or back? It has to be now.

Spinning, the first two are nearly upon me. Bolting for the far right side, toward the trench, one Clansman flies at me but I jerk to a halt, whirl and dive past him. Just as I jet free, the other King snatches my arm and jerks me back, his hand soaring across my cheek, exploding my head in immediate and intensely throbbing pain.

For a second, I'm not sure I survived the hit.

Everything's been rattled inside. Surely he's killed me. It certainly feels like it. Like he knocked my eyes further into my skull, which throbs like it's been splintered to a thousand pieces. My eye pounds into my right temple and I feel _everything_ —every sting and sharp nerve.

Someone grabs my arms and twists them behind me. Opening my eyes, Mantis walks toward me with an enthusiastic smile. He moves past the other two Kings and, getting closer, his grin widens as he considers me. Suddenly, the back of his hand flies across the same cheek, hitting my mouth open with a splitting, shooting pain.

I'm dead. I must be.

Liquid seeps from my busted lip. My right eye aches too much to open, so I keep my left wide, watching him.

"Stupid bitch."

The Kings yank my arms out, twisting.

"Let's have some fun before you get too bloody," Mantis goes for his bottoms, jerking them lower. "Hold her down. On her _knees_."

I'm forced to the ground. Blood drips down my chin and into a puddle between my legs. My heart races as Mantis approaches but then he stops, just as the grip on my right arm lessens. It disappears completely with a roar of pain, the King falling away from me.

Mantis retreats, yanking his pants up." _Shit_..."

My left arm is freed and I fall to my palms, holding myself up. The two behind Mantis jet forward but Chief meets one in mid-air and Jace, on the other. Chief twists the King's arm around unnaturally, kicking him in the side with an explosion that pushes him to the ground. The King howls, grabbing his arm. As he stumbles back up, Chief twists around, breaking his heel into the Clansman's face. Jace, on the other side, flips the fourth King onto the ground, punching him with alternating fists across the face, red splattering like paint cans erupting.

"I got ya," Able slips one arm under my knees and the other under my back, lifting me into him. I try to keep watching, searching for Mantis but Able carries me away, cursing under his breath as we turn the corner, rushing through the emptiness.

Everyone has left, headed back inside for second meal or maybe, just dismissed from the strength of the mob. Either way, I can't see very well, my right eye throbbing and refusing to open and my left pressed tight against Able's chest. I barely make it out as he carries me through the open portcullis and into the Courtyard.

"Are Chief and Jace okay?"

"They're fine, bestie," Able glances down, wincing. He shakes his head, cursing again. "How _you_ feeling?"

"My head's exploding...."

"That doesn't sound good," he nervously chuckles. "You probably just need to lay down for a bit."

"Taking me to my room?"

"Not a chance. Oh this is going to be bad... so _very_ bad..."

I close my left eye, wanting to stay awake but quickly fall into a deep rest. Sinking into the comfort of Able's arms, I drift away for a few minutes, maybe longer. Vaguely aware I'm set down on a soft material—a bed—a rustle of feet patter near the edge as sharpened whispers sound in the background.

Able's trembling voice adds to the mix, aching with guilt, "... It happened quicker than we expected. So... _so_ sorry..."

A low, deadly growl escapes and the room turns cold. Like a gust of wind breezing in through the window, everything stops to absorb the chill. I turn my head to the right, to the throbbing, swollen flesh that screams as it makes contact with the pillow. I force my good eye open and see Reid's intense stare barreling into me with an overly numb look, like his rage is too much, like it's condensed into itself, blocked behind a stone exterior so he doesn't go crazy and loose it right here. His eyes shift over my face and down the front of my clothes.

"Rox..." Able starts but Reid doesn't hear him.

Reid's in his own world right now. He grabs something and turns for the door. It's long and narrow, like a baseball bat and he clutches it to his side as he disappears through the arch. Able starts to go after him, calling something. I think I make out the words, _four_ and _right Transport_.

"Oh Fallon..." Pratt's soft voice calls as she sits down on the bed next to me.

"Hey," Able closes the crimson arch as he starts to search. "Where's that stuff he has?"

"What stuff?" Pratt asks, watching him look. "Oh, the Vilbrees? Over here," she jumps from the bed, reaching under it to retrieve a small bowl. She sits down next to me, plopping the bowl on her lap and dips two fingers into the greenish-brown mud texture. "Let me see your eye."

Turning my head to the side and exposing the aching flesh to Pratt, she winces like Able. Gently, she rubs the cool ointment on me, working in circles under my eye and around my cheekbone. "Was it Mantis?"

"And friends."

Pratt dips her fingers into the bowl again, retrieving more of the substance. Returning to my cheek, she gently works down toward my mouth, to the busted lip, in soft, circular motions. "How many?"

"Four," Able answers from somewhere in the shadows behind her. "Mantis was five. I can't believe we..." and he loses his words.

"I shouldn't have run back there. It was stupid, I knew it was," I mumble, my mouth stinging as Pratt dips the moisture to my lip. "Couldn't think quick enough. I should've screamed like Pratt—let you know where I was," I gulp. "I couldn't find my voice."

"This is _not_ your fault," Able is over the bed, more anger in his tone than I've ever heard, "we walked right into their misdirect. They knew it'd be the only thing to loosen the guard around you so they could do it. And God!" he huffs, spinning around and jabbing his fingers into his head, "We walked right into it—we're so stupid! Everyone ran for Pratt instead of you! Even your Safeties!"

"Safeties?" I ask as Pratt finishes doctoring.

Jumping up, she slides the bowl under the bed again and then grabs a Gupple off the food dispenser. Back on the bed, she slides in next to me as I sit up, leaning against the wall, my knees folded up at my chest.

"Your personal guards," she explains, rubbing the Gupple on her scrub top. "Chief and Jace. They're not supposed to leave you. Reid has them on assignment solely to protect you. They're the two best fighters after him."

"What?" I shift my open eye to Able. " _Seriously_?"

"Oh yeah," Pratt answers. "He's had them on you for awhile."

"How long's awhile?" I address my question to Able again.

"You want the truth?" he exhales, shifting between his feet."... _Pretty_ much since the beginning."

"Not the _beginning_ -beginning," Pratt clarifies, shaking her head. "But since he's been interested."

"Okay..."

"Yeah," Pratt goes on, "and before that, it was me."

"You?" my head snaps to her. "What do you mean?"

"Well, since he saw you out there that first time, part of my assignment was just to keep an eye on you. Nothing much," she takes a bite of the Gupple, catching the dripping juice down her chin with the back of her hand, "just let him know if I saw anything unusual. Since you ran out there the day you were brought here, he figured you might be worth watching. You know, in case you did something nut- so. But, just so you know," she takes another bite, speaking with her mouth open. "He's never asked me to watch anyone else before."

"Where is he?" I turn to Able.

He stops pacing, glancing at me with painful eyes. "Have you seen yourself, Fallon? No," he shakes his head, "of course not. Come here," he extends his hand, standing in front of the small mirror on Reid's wall. "If you can walk."

"I'm fine," I get up, accepting his hand support. "It's just my head that hurts."

Approaching the mirror, I inhale at the image staring back.

The left side of my face looks fine but the right side is a different story. My throbbing eye sits swelled shut, the sensitive skin around it plumping into a dark red. Soft spots of green and purple sprout over my cheek and a dried blood trail stains the skin from my right nostril down the side of my mouth. My bottom lip is split near the right corner, another bloodstain down my chin and onto my shirt.

"Wow..." I mutter to myself, trying to keep the shock from my voice, "...not pretty."

"Yeah..." Able paces behind me, "and Reid saw. He'll be down there for a while," he chuckles nervously.

"What happened to Mantis? Did Chief get him?" I return to the bed. "Or Jace?"

"I'm not sure," Able shakes his head. "I saw you on the ground and knew I had to get you out of there fast."

"But two against five?"

"And now Reid," Pratt adds, taking another bite. "I don't know—did you see that look in his eye? He might make this quick."

Able shakes his head again. "Unless he goes after Mantis, in which case, he'll take his time. Oh man," he starts up his pacing again. " _Not_ good."

"Will they be alright?" I glance between them.

"Who?" she answers with confusion. "The Kings?"

"No," I frown. "Reid. Chief. Jace."

"Oh..." she laughs. " _More_ than alright. The Kings are probably wishing they hadn't even tried by now. _Especially_ Mantis. But he probably bolted," Pratt takes another big bite.

"What was that thing Reid left with?" I glance to Able, "He had something in his hands..."

Able nods, "Yeah. That'd be a piece of the dried gibb the Carpenters made for him... kind of like a glass rod. It's his go-to tool..."

"He's not going to kill them." I look between Able's eyes, but when he doesn't respond, I get nervous. "Able?"

"We'll see," he shrugs. "I'm not sure. He didn't seem particularly happy to see you like this. Uh... it might've rattled something loose upstairs."

Suddenly the door swings open and Able springs to his feet, blocking the entry with his body. But it's Tucker, and Able backs away, allowing him in. When Tucker sees me, he recoils, frowning as he throws his hand up in the air. "Aw _Hell_!"

"Is he all right?" I ask.

"Give it an hour," Tucker comes closer, examining the side of my face. "Shit. He's going to kill them."

"Seriously?"

"If he doesn't, he'll come damn close."

"Where'd you pass him?" Able asks.

"Halfway down. Should probably go help him but he told me to come up here and stay with Fallon and that he'd be back as soon as it was done."

"Think he's going after Mantis?"

"Was it just him?"

Able shakes his head. "Four others."

"Jesus," Tucker glances over me, rubbing his hands over his mouth. "Now I _really_ feel like I should go with him."

"Chief and Jace are already down there. Chief will keep him under control."

"It's not Chief I'm worried about," Tucker exhales. "If Reid gets Mantis today, it'll be an all-out war."

"He won't kill him..." Able sounds unsure. "Will he?"

Tucker tosses a glance at me. "Hard to say."

Suddenly, the door flies open for the second time and Reid stalks in, instantly filling the room. His face and the front of his clothes are splattered in red and his knuckles bleed through broken skin. His dark eyes narrow into intense slits, his deadly focus set on me. Without breaking contact, he orders in low, menacing words. "Everyone out."

Pratt jumps from the bed, Tucker and Able slipping past him and from the room. In seconds we're alone in his bunker, Reid standing covered in blood and staring. Finally he moves, wiping his face clean with the back of his sleeve, resting the bloodied glass rod against the wall. He heads for the bed, dipping low and retrieving the same bowl that Pratt did. Setting it down next to him, he sits beside me. In silence, he plunges two fingers into the lotion-like substance and smoothes it into my face, starting with my eyelid.

Watching him work, I clear my throat. "Pratt already put some on me."

He continues to rub the soothing ointment in, lightly under my eye and over my cheekbone. "A second coat's better."

He moves his fingers down my nose and then to my mouth. Dipping into the bowl for more medicine, he returns to my busted lip, wincing, his eyes narrowing further. "Does this hurt?"

"No."

He nods, his focused eyes still narrowed in slits, careful as he works. Inching my chin up so he can fully examine me, he seems satisfied with his job and moves the bowl back to its original place. He jumps up, facing the mirror, wiping the blood off his face and neck with the back of his sleeve again. "You're staying here tonight."

"Is that allowed?"

"They'll make an exception."

"For one night?"

"For me," he yanks off his shirt, tossing it into the corner. He looks at himself in the mirror, examining his neck and chest. Reaching for a small piece of fabric on his windowsill, he spits on it and starts wiping the blood from his face.

His knuckles are skinned raw so I jump up. Retrieving the same bowl from under the bed, I dip a finger in the green and brown substance. It's creamy, like a lotion, and once I have a good amount, I turn for him. Reid's wiping the cloth across his forehead when I reach his side. He's startled to see me, frowning in confusion. I reach for his hand, intending to rub the medicine on.

"I'm fine," he pulls back, crossing the room.

"Give it to me," I follow, reaching for his hand again. "Just stop. Let me."

"I said I'm fine," he circles around, back for the mirror.

But just as he moves, I step in front of him, blocking his exit. Taking his fingers in mine, I rub the ointment over his bloodied knuckles, his hand jerking slightly. I run out of the substance quickly, holding his hand and pulling him back to the bed and bowl. Dipping my fingers in the cool material, I withdraw more, rubbing it into his remaining knuckles before moving to his other hand. He watches, allowing me to do this for him.

"Oh Reid..." I frown, "what did you do?"

He shrugs.

I work quickly and tenderly, taking advantage of the time he's giving me. Once I've done both hands, I search his wrists, forearms, shoulders and chest for any more injuries, all under his attentive eye. None of the blood on his face or neck is his, so I put the bowl away, back under the bed. When I turn, he's still facing me, still watching.

"Better?" I ask.

But Reid only exhales.

"So..." I sit on the bed, folding my legs in front of me. "You going to tell me what happened?"

The alarm screams overhead, reverberating through the walls to dismiss us back outside. My hands fly to my ears but my right cheek screams from the sudden pressure and I drop them quickly.

"You should lie down."

I glance to the window. "What about Rebuilding?"

Reid shakes his head. "They won't know you're not there."

"What?"

"They only keep tabs on who they want. Or whoever leaves the gate. If you're not down there, they won't know the difference."

"But..." I look to the window.

"Fallon," he approaches, "I can't... I can't have you leaving this room. Not right now. So please," he motions to the bed, "just lie down."

Reluctantly I oblige, and mostly because of the pleading in his eyes. Reid climbs in the bed behind me and we lay like this for a bit. With his arm wrapped securely around me, the comfort of safety overwhelms me and I finally slip away.

His lips brush my right eye, sweeping the bruised, swollen skin. Gentle in every way, he moves over the painful flesh and lower, toward my open mouth. But he kisses around my lips, aiming for the split, keeping dedicated attention to the wound. I run my tongue over my bottom lip and taste him. He groans, but still works around the split. I do it again. This time, he's ready and slips his own tongue to meet mine. He groans louder at their meeting, pulling himself closer.

Climbing on top, he shoves a hard lump into my stomach but then rolls off just as quickly, crossing his arms behind his head. It takes me a second to realize he's not coming back. I prop myself up, staring down at him.

"You stopped."

"I'm going to want to keep going," he casts a look my way. When I don't immediately respond, he returns to staring at the ceiling.

"Don't you just kiss?"

"Not if I like it," he rolls his head to me. "Besides, you need to heal."

A knock sounds on the door and I lean back, Reid going for the crimson arch. He pulls it ajar and Tucker, Able and Jace stand in the doorway, all gushing over one another until spotting me over his left shoulder. They refocus on Reid, trying to remember what they were saying. The three exchange a few quick words before Reid steps back.

"They're going to need to see you soon," Tucker pushes, trying not to toss a look my way. He falters, casting me a glance, Jace following.

"Leisure Time," Reid nods. "Not before then."

Withdrawing, he closes the door behind him as he heads to the mirror, reexamining his face. He retrieves the cloth from the windowsill, spits on it, and brings it to his brow. "How do you feel?"

"Better," I sit up, stroking the soft patch around my right eye. "What was that stuff?"

"Villbrees," he rubs the cloth down his temple, "it's got Tregmint in it. Sampson made it. Don't touch your face." He spins around, wiping the piece down his cheek once more before tossing it back on the window sill. Crossing his arms, he stops in front of the bed, legs slightly apart and standing firm. "I'll put some more on after Leisure Time."

"How do your knuckles feel?" My sight drops to the raw, pink skin I doctored earlier.

"Don't hurt enough."

I take his hands in mine. He hesitates letting me hold them and jerks back until I insist. Finally, I bring them low to investigate. I look up, frowning. "I don't want you to hurt."

"Funny. Feel the same about you," he withdraws, pacing up and down his room, gnawing at his thumb.

A long minute goes by and I can't take it anymore. "Are you going to tell me what you did?"

He pauses and removes his thumb from his teeth. His body goes rigid again, "Do you really want to know?"

I don't want to know, I _need_ to know—it's non-negotiable at this point. I meet his eye and offer the slightest of nods. Reid accepts the tiny gesture with a low sigh, keeping to his rigid state and folding his arms with a cocky confidence. "I beat the shit out of them."

"Did you..."

"No," he shakes his head, already answering my panicked face. He starts pacing. "Believe me, I _wanted_ to. At one point, I thought I might. But no. Last I saw they were alive."

"Did you get hurt at all?" I search his body again for possible injuries as he comes in and out of the babeebs' golden light.

"Are you kidding me?" he laughs. "It wasn't even fair. Normally there's no point in beating a man while he's down, but in this case..." he scans my swollen eye and busted lip, "...I made an exception."

"But the Kings will know. They'll retaliate on the Rogues when they see what you've done," I think of Able and the others, Rogues that have no reason to get hurt for me. Starting to make further protest, Reid is already shaking his head, dismissing my argument.

"They're not going back to the Kings," a sharp inhale and then, "I'm holding them."

"What?" I bolt to my feet. " _Where_?"

"Tunnels."

I search his face for any contradiction, any slip of the joke. But they're serious. He has them hidden, somewhere below, in the underground labyrinth.

"How..." I start when another knock sounds on the door.

"In."

Tucker emerges first, followed by Able and Jace. They scan me fleetingly but focus on Reid who's pulling his shirt on.

"What've you got?"

Tucker steps forward. "Grisham hasn't said anything yet. Mantis is keeping quiet too," he clears his throat uncomfortably. "But Fallon's absence has been noticed."

"Story?"

"Berry juice, same as last time."

Reid nods. "And myself?"

"No one's asking questions," Able responds this time. " _Yet_. They seem more concerned with Pratt."

"Of course—everyone heard that scream," he crosses the small space for his piece of cloth on the windowsill. Retrieving it, he spits on it, wiping just behind his ear. Finding his image in the mirror, he brings the cloth across his brow again, digging away at some dried blood. "Double misdirection. Smart," he rubs the fabric down by his jaw. "She's been on over-guard this whole time—who's been assigned?"

"Booker and Simon both volunteered for the time being," Tucker says.

Reid rubs the cloth over his neck, turning toward Jace. "And the fight?"

"Arrivals were promised a few Gupples to go at each other like animals. Both likely candidates for the Kings."

"We know they can follow orders..." Reid considers. "Find out who's been scouting them and what other targets they have. Intercede if necessary. Any real candidates, get me," he tosses the cloth to the windowsill. He holds his arms out, displaying his clothes. "Too obvious?"

"No time for the Bathing Bubble," Tucker shakes his head. "You'll have to go as is."

"We can spin it that you just spilled some Gupple juice on you? Maybe?" Able looks to Jace in the silence, hoping for support, but Jace, like the other two, just shakes his head.

Reid turns to Tucker again. "If the Kings aren't asking questions, neither should we. For right now, let's keep a low profile on this one. They'll pretend four of their Clansmen aren't missing and I'll pretend they didn't come after Fallon. Nearly even."

"She coming with you?" Tucker glances at me.

"No. Fallon can't go downstairs looking like that."

"Is it really that bad?" I cross the room for his mirror. The red swelling's lessened around my cheek and eye and only a slight bruise ripens in its place. My lip still looks nasty though, something that'll draw a lot of attention. But I don't give up without a fight. "Come on—I can go."

"No. This is _non_ -negotiable. Able," Reid turns to him. "Stay with her. I'll make an appearance downstairs and be right back."

"And the Rogues?" Tucker asks, the three making their way for the crimson arch.

"I'll address them later," Reid shoots me one last look over his shoulder. "I'll come back after the Reminders. Will you be okay?"

"I'm fine."

He nods at Able who returns the serious gesture. Reid, Tucker and Jace step through the open arch and into the corridor the next minute, disappearing from sight. When they're gone, Able turns to me.

"Ooh people have been talking about you! Sick again. Will she get _Rox_ sick? Will it spread? Now this is coming mostly from the Clients..."

"And everyone else?" I ask, sitting on Reid's bed. With the wall to my back and my legs folded up to my chest, I wrap my arms around myself.

"Not sure what to think," he shrugs. "We were kind of hoping he'd let you out, at least downstairs so people could know you're like, still alive."

"What do you mean _let me out_?"

Able scoffs, like it's a silly question to want answered when we should be discussing more important things. He looks at me, then the door, then back at me again, a belittling expression crossing his face.

"You think there's _any_ way that boy's going to let you out of his sight from now on? Sheesh—I'm surprised he left you with _me_ ," he laughs as he stalks the room with quick, heated steps. "I think he knows he has to make an appearance. For the Rogues at least. If you both didn't show, then they'd _really_ know something was up... he can't let the others think the Kings have an advantage," he shakes his head again, his swift steps moving him around the room, "but if that wasn't the case, _hell_ no. He'd be right here with you. If not downstairs with the four missing Kings..." Able strokes his chin, considering an image from earlier, perhaps. "Letting you out of his sight is _not_ something Reid has on his urgent to-do list."

I tighten my hold around my legs, trying not to think about tomorrow, or what the rest of my time on Harrizel will bring. "So what does everyone think then?" I ask to distract myself. "I'm really sick or do they know?"

"The smart ones know and the higher ups. Clients and most Scouts... probably not."

"Do you think the Kings will try to retaliate?"

"At some point," he shrugs again, continuing to pace. "With all the new Arrivals, it's going to be war. And it's going to be here _fast_."

"Are the Rogues up for it?"

"We'll have to be."

"But you guys seem to know what you're doing—fighting at least," I play with one of the navy rags. "Plus, you said all Rogues are trained in combative basics. And Jace and Chief..."

"Are the best fighters after Reid, yep," he sighs, still pacing, "and you're right; all Rogues _do_ know the combative basics, so at least we have that. See," Able sits on the bed next to me, "Reid must have had some training at some point. That's why he did so well at first with leaving the Kings. No one could get a hit in on him."

"What kind of training?"

"Who knows?" he shrugs "but every Rogue he invites into the Clan has to undergo intense training with Jace and Chief, who he personally coached. I mean, they were already good fighters but Reid showed him whatever it is _he_ knows. So every Rogue is pretty knowledgeable when it comes to fighting."

"Even you?"

"I mean," he laughs, "I may not be the shining star like Chief and Jace but yeah... _even_ me."

I exhale, leaning my head back against the wall. "So what now?"

"Now," he follows my lead and leans back, "now we wait."

The next ten minutes pass in silence until Reid reemerges with Tucker, Jace, Clark, Sampson, Vix and Pratt, who jumps on the bed next to us. The others file in around the room, grabbing the little bit of space they can as Sampson adds a few more babeebs to the hanging chandelier in the center of the ceiling.

He makes his way over to me, his voice gentle. "How are you feeling, Fallon?"

"I'm fine. Slept off most of it."

"I meant to come when I heard but no one was to reveal your location. I'm so sorry... has the Vilbrees helped?"

"Doesn't hurt as much."

"Good," he manages a small smile. "That's good."

"What did they say at Reminders?" I skim over Reid, who's in the opposite corner, arms folded and standing still as a statue. My eyes only linger on him a second before scanning Tucker, Jace and Clark, also silent on the subject. "Anything important?"

"They made a suggestion," Jace finally exhales.

When he doesn't elaborate, I glance around the room but no one wants to help him out. "About what?"

"Jeb wants more mating," Vix says quietly.

"Mating?"

"For the Rebirth," Jace starts up, "you know, to repopulate earth."

"But he always alludes to that."

"Well," Jace feigns a smile, "he made sure his message was loud and clear. He was 'disappointed' in the illness still haunting Harrizel and thought we should be ashamed of ourselves for not trying to repopulate while we could."

"But it's not being forced?" I look around again, stopping on Reid who's too livid to speak. "Right?"

"Not yet," Tucker shakes his head, "but it seemed... it might go there if they don't get the results they want."

I turn to Sampson, reassuring what I already know to be the truth. "Eleven days?"

"Less than that. And when they come back," he nods, inhaling sharply. "It _will_ be forced."

The room grows silent, everyone taking in the reality of the situation. The one Reminder I should've attended and I was up here to miss it.

"What can we do?" I ask.

"Only eleven days," Clark shakes his head, "that's all the time we have left _and_ ," he stresses it, as if we forgot, "we have to get rid of the Kings."

"Well four of them are taken care of," Tucker nods to Reid who still remains rigid in position.

"How many more are there?" I ask.

"Too many," Clark sighs.

"I asked for a number, not an opinion."

The room stops again and Tucker's mouth twitches. "Forty-four, not including Grisham. But that's..."

"Still doable," I glance to Pratt and Able beside me, then to Sampson and Vix. "Chief and Jace _alone_ took down four. And that was what... in a few minutes? If that's done twice a day, _every day_ , they'll be cleaned out in a week."

"Yeah," Clark gripes, his face flushed with annoyance, "and how are they going to do that? It was the two _best_ Rogue fighters after Reid and no one was around to witness it. Best possible scenario."

"Then we'll recreate it. Every time."

Reid's head snaps up at this. "No."

"How else can we do it?"

"No," he shakes his head again, his voice stiff and threatening. "Absolutely not."

"I'm not doing nothing. If they want to come get me, let them," I toss back, "we'll just be ready."

"How?" Vix asks curiously.

"The new recruits—their first assignment is to get recruited by the Kings. Share inside information of where I'll be," I shrug, "lure them in."

"You mean bait yourself?" Pratt asks.

Nodding, I look to Reid again. "They'll know you'll constantly be around me. They'll have no other way of getting to me unless I go to the Bathing Bubble or wherever. The Scouts or Clients will plant specific information for when I'll be vulnerable... and we'll be ready."

"Jace and Chief every time?" Vix asks.

"Not every time," Able shakes his head. "Other Rogues will want their chance at the Kings."

"And I'm sure it won't always be four at a time," Tucker chimes in.

"However many times it takes," I shrug, "how else can we pick off the Kings? And in only eleven days?"

"That's _if_ they keep going for the bait," Clark shakes his head. "When they realize their Clansmen aren't coming back, will they keep sending them after you? They'll know the information is false. And that'll put your Clients at risk."

"Not really," Sampson considers, cupping his chin, "they don't know where their Clansmen are going; don't know if they're alive or dead. At that point, Fallon," he indicates to me, "will be the only way back to them, to _find_ them. They'll need the information."

" _Plus_ ," Able chimes in, "once they've lost Clansmen, they won't stop. It'll be their only goal. They've taken a wound to their pride and they won't stop until they have her."

Tucker turns to Reid who's buried himself deep in the shadows, gnawing on his thumbnail. Barely nudging him, Tucker whispers, "What do you think?"

The room quiets, all awaiting Reid's response as the heavy silence fills the air. Finally, he shakes his head, "Absolutely not."

"What other way is there? We only have eleven days," I remind him. "Unless you want to fight the Vermix _and_ Kings?"

"I don't want you at risk."

"We're all at risk."

He's still shaking his head.

"Reid—it'll be fine. You can be there."

"I'll _kill_ them."

"What'd you do with the others?" Pratt asks softly.

"They're in the tunnels," Tucker answers, "but can we keep them _all_ down there?"

"Where else is there?" Clark asks.

"We can keep them out there," I gesture toward the window overlooking the jungle, "with the people they snatched."

"Yes!" Pratt exclaims. "That's perfect!"

"They'll be out of the Castle when we liberate it," I say, "after that, we'll figure out what to do with them."

Everyone nods as Reid stands solid, his breath coming and going in sharp, furious breaths. He's staring off at something, biting the tip of his thumb, the room an anxious cloud around him again.

Finally, he inhales a solid lungful of air. "I'm to be present at every one. I choose the Rogues and the Clients. If I say stop, we _stop_."

"Fine," I look to Sampson. "Does Blovid have any more information?"

"About the Vermix meeting?" he shakes his head. "Not at this time. Our best bet is to plan for the worst when Beshib returns."

"We'll have to figure out the Clients quickly," Jace says, "I'll talk to Kelly. Send them out tomorrow, if possible. The sooner the better."

"I'd rather tonight but..." Reid nods, "let's plan on tomorrow, first thing. Bring the best recruits here before First Bell and notify the Rogues."

Jace nods.

"Thank you," Reid clears his throat, half glancing at the door to his right. "I'm going to stay in tonight... tend to Fallon."

The others move for the door.

"The top three," Reid clasps Tucker's shoulder, "enough time before First Bell to evaluate and assign."

He nods, leading everyone through the open archway, Reid closing the door behind them. Once they're gone, he turns to me.

"You're trying to give me a heart attack, aren't you?" he sighs, crossing the room to sit down next to me. A long silent minute passes. "What're we doing? What if something goes wrong and..."

"You said you'd be there," I take his hand in mine, squeezing. "I trust you."

His eyes dart over my eye and busted lip. Brushing a few curls behind my ear, he shakes his head. "Look what happened already."

"I trust you," I repeat, glancing between his eyes. "We have to do this. There's no other way."

Reid leans in, resting his forehead on mine. "I can't apologize enough. You got hurt because of me. None of this would've happened if—"

"They didn't think I was your girl?"

He laughs. "Kind of hope you are, by now. Be a little weird if you weren't. Especially since you're spending the night."

"And you're sure the Dofinikes won't care?"

"Not for me. I'm an integral part of keeping the humans at war so they tend to let things go where I'm concerned."

"Must be nice."

"Yeah... the real VIP treatment," he rolls his eyes, "I'm allowed a girl in my room."

"Hey," I jab him in his side, "I'm not _any_ girl."

"No," he laughs, "you most certainly are not."

And then he looks up, trapping me in his gaze that lasts an eternity. Something warm ignites inside me in this moment, my heart weighing a thousand pounds and suddenly, I have no breath. Reid leans in, softly capturing my lips with his as he cradles my face in his gentle hands. But just as he opens my mouth, the split in my lip soars in pain and on reflex, I pull back.

"Sorry..." I apologize.

He watches me cup my cheek and glares, mumbling to himself, "Should've killed them."

"What? No... it's fine. I'm _fine_ ," I shift back on his bed. "Come on... let's get some sleep. You have a big day tomorrow—meeting the new recruits and all."

He runs his hands through his hair and exhales. Yanking his shirt off, he tosses it to the floor and climbs into the bed. Throwing his arm across my stomach, he cradles into me. "I'm going to make everyone of them pay for hurting you. Every last one."

#  Chapter Twenty-Three: Protection

Come in. Quiet.

Is she awake?

Don't worry about it. Just be quiet.

My eyes flash open to the black wall inches from my nose. There are more babeebs, but they're kept in the opposite corner. A soft shuffling and then a chorus of pattering feet emits, followed by unidentifiable whispers. My lids grow heavy again, the sweet coma overtaking me as I slip away...

" _Why didn't you tell me?"_

" _Would you have believed it?"_

The lady with the red bandanna inhales, the tip of her cigarette lighting into orange sparks. "I don't..."

" _We weren't sure..." the elder woman starts, "when or how..." she reaches for the younger woman's hand. "I've wanted to tell you for a while. Your whole life..."_

Another hand—a man's—rests atop the other two. The lady in the red bandanna turns in his direction.

The porch fades to an opaque fog as a new face appears—the one with white hair and large, piercing silver eyes. Her mouth never opens but her voice is solid, strong.

" _Fallon..."_

Her eyes sting, striking me.

" _Fallon..."_

She grows impatient.

" _Fallon..."_

Her eyes widen, the silver overwhelming her face.

" _FALLON!"_

I'm awake, staring at the black ahead. Whispers exchange behind me, back in the corner with the babeebs.

You all know what you have to do?

How will we get further instructions?

Orders will be delivered at midnight before the set up.

"Reid?" I ask, unsure if this is a dream.

Hold on.

The bed dips and my eyes open just as I turn to him. He's leaning over me, "Hey baby. You okay?"

I pull him down to a kiss. He resists at first, but then gets sucked in, hungrily returning it. He wants to keep going but forces himself back when I open my mouth. "Hold on."

The bed lifts and more feet shuffle around the room.

Any questions?

Thank you, Rox.

Thank you, Rox.

The room empties of all movement except for one pair of feet which pause at the bedside. The mattress dips again as he climbs in behind me, his lips brushing the nape of my neck. He takes my elbow in his hand and brings my wrist to his lips. "Hey," his word vibrates into my skin.

"What's the plan?"

"For now?" he moves his mouth around my wrist, touching every part with his lips. " _This_."

"For _later_ ," I laugh. "The first set up."

"Don't worry about that now..." he moves in to kiss me when a knock sounds on the door. Reid drops his head. Jumping off the bed, he makes his way for the crimson arch. "In."

Tucker and Able emerge, both acknowledging me with a slight nod before quickly shifting focus to Reid.

"They're good," Tucker advises. "Just waiting on the pull."

"Signal?" Reid wants to know.

"Using a second Scout."

"Who and who?"

"A new recruit to one of Jace's. He'll give us the go-ahead."

"Okay," Reid sits on the bed next to me. "This is the part where you have to pay attention."

Sitting up, I rub my left eye with my knuckles. Someone whispers, "Shit, Fallon."

"What?" I look around.

"Nothing," Reid forces a grin, kissing my right cheek tenderly. "We're going to try for one of the set-ups today. Tonight. Once we have confirmation, we're going to move you to the Bathing Bubble right after Leisure Time starts."

"Okay..."

"Able will walk you to it. Pretend you're going to use it like normal."

"They'll be in there?" I ask.

"That, or right behind you."

"Where will _you_ be?"

Reid chooses his answer carefully. "Around."

"So when I come and get you," Able says, "I'll walk you to the Bathing Bubble. Don't worry about anything."

"Do you know how many are going?" I glance between all three of them. "Kings?"

The three boys exchange glances, Reid clearing his voice. "Around four."

"Or more..." Able mumbles as Tucker shoots him a look. "Don't worry. You'll be fine."

"I'm not worried. I'm ready."

"Of course you are," Reid laughs.

"What if Able doesn't come?" I ask.

"Then it's a no-go. And you'll sit tight," Reid's brows arch high into his forehead. "That cool?"

"Okay."

"We got to go before the bell hits," Reid kisses me. "Your Safeties will be escorting you everywhere plus you've got additional security. And I won't be far from you _ever_. Right now, you're the most protected person on Harrizel."

All three rise and head for the door.

"Jace and Chief will pick you up in a little while. Remember," Reid turns to me with a wink. "I won't be far."

***

The bell to start Leisure Time rang fifteen minutes ago. Able isn't here. The Kings must not be coming. Pacing, I nearly bite my fingernails raw, wondering what might have happened. Are the Kings onto us already? Did a new recruit falter? Maybe this wasn't such a good idea after all. Maybe if I—

A fast-paced knock sounds on the door.

This is it.

Running to the crimson arch, I pause. How do I know it's really Able? We should've come up with some secret signal. It's too late for that now. Another knock sounds and I finally open it, inhaling.

Able stands before me, his posture relaxed but his eyes serious. "Ready?"

It takes everything I have to simply nod, my chest pounding like a bomb. Once I leave the room there's no turning back, not if a sudden rush of fear creeps up my back and I change my mind. Not that I would. If I can contribute anything, at least it's this.

"Let's go," he says as we leave my bunker, taking the corridor to the closest Bathing Bubble on the right. Matching his pace, we move quickly, quietly, his arm tucked tightly in mine, locking me close to him. After a minute and without turning to look at me, Able murmurs through grinded teeth. "They're watching us right now."

"Us?"

" _You_. Making sure the info's legit. Just keep walking."

As if I had any other plans. It's only a short distance to the Bathing Bubble but suddenly it feels miles away. And with each step, it's as if thousands of eyes pierce into me, ripping apart every move I make.

"Where?" the soft word escapes my lips.

"Not sure. Probably the Courtyard. Maybe a room."

"How many? Do you know?"

Able shakes his head. We're at the Bathing Bubble's entrance and he motions me inside, a blank expression marring his face. It's not encouraging, worried or anxious. It's flat, like he's unwilling to give anything away, even to me.

Stepping in, I hold my breath. It's black. The few babeebs have been removed, keeping it in utter darkness. A chill races down my spine, my heart thumping away. Are the Kings already here? Are the Rogues? And where's Reid? My eyes are slow to adjust, the shapes of the giant glass balls gradually taking form. I take another cautious step, my pulse racing as I glance around the blackness. Everything's quiet. Eerily still. Slowly heading for the closest Bubble, I pause when a silhouette steps out.

It lunges for me.

Bracing myself for the impact, it never comes. A darkened figure flies out from the right, knocking the King to the ground with swift, sharp blows. The King is down but the figure is already taking on another, offering the same lethal jabs. I back up, just as a third body emerges from the left, taking off for me in a dead run.

My arm is yanked back, Tucker's voice at my ear. "It's me."

Before I'm able to respond, he pushes me behind him as the King collides with him, the two throwing swings. The King is desperately trying to get at me. He hurls all his weight into charging Tucker but the Rogue leader keeps his body a solid, impenetrable wall that blocks mine.

I'm not sure which way to go. Stay by Tucker or get as far away as possible since the King seems to be slipping from him? Bolting, I run into the darkness, wishing there was more of a plan, wishing we'd discussed it a little further.

Which way to go?

I can't see straight. Shadows suddenly start to come alive, moving along the glass balls. How many people are in here? And are they all Kings... or Rogues? Running forward, I jolt to a halt as a figure moves ahead, blocking the path.

He's snatched back, thrown into the glass wall of the nearest Bathing Bubble, face first by another silhouetted figure. The King's arms are cranked behind him and he yelps loudly as if it's just been broken. The figure holding him disappears again, darting back into the shadows, behind the Bathing Bubble.

That's four. Is it done? It can't be. There are still more shadows moving. Someone yelps behind me, then a curse. Footsteps shuffle in the distance, followed by more grunting and another howl. My heart races. How many people are in here? A few yells and quick shouts around the hall.

"She's over here!" someone calls and I flip toward the voice.

But he's taken down already, his throat strained under steel fingers. The figure has him on the ground, twisting his arm until he cries out. The shadow disappears again once the King remains incapacitated. I step forward but then stop, still unsure which way to go. Who's who? And where's safe?

" _There!_ " another voice announces behind me. I spin to find three ferocious silhouettes just two Bathing Bubbles down, making for me at a dead run.

My heart stops, my legs stiffening at their impending attack but before I have time to panic, the same dark figure races past me. He slides across the floor with the familiar long rod and slams it into the knee caps of both the outer Kings. Instantly they fumble as the figure knocks the rod high into the groin of the middle one, sliding beneath his legs. He's on his feet, bringing the rod back down on all three just as two more come up behind him. Now more players start, adding to the small riot ahead.

My hand is jerked back.

"It's me," Able yanks me behind him. "There're more than we thought. Come on," he leads our way through the rows of Bubbles. He stops a couple times, waits, looks and then jerks me behind him, halting again.

"They sent twelve."

" _Twelve_?"

"That I've counted. _So_ far. More may be sneaking in."

"How many Rogues?"

"A few. _Shit_!" Able's thrown back, into the wall of the nearest Bathing Bubble, with a loud clang. He dodges a blow to the face, the hard fist of a King slamming into the Bubble's glass instead. He cries out, just as Able slips from his hold, knocking him back with his elbow. He looks at me, his eyes wide with terror. "Behind you!"

Spinning, I find one of the largest silhouettes coming for me, his hand outstretched to grab my throat. Seconds before he can, the dark figure dashes in front of me, knocking the blow to the side. He's still only a shadow and it takes me a second to realize why.

He's in black.

As in, his scrubs are black, covered with some sort of ash or soot. Even his face, neck and hands are covered in it. Only his eyes stand out, the white nearly glowing in contrast to his shadowy camouflage. He's matching hit for hit with the massive King, the spar evenly fought in front of me and I'm paralyzed, helpless to watch.

They keep it to hand-to-hand combat before the King whips out a small blade, thrusting it in front of him. The dark figure retrieves his own assistance—the familiar glass rod that he swirls in his hand, enticing the King to charge.

He finally does.

Using four hits—to the chest, neck, back and knee—the figure takes the massive King to the ground where he lays incapacitated like the others. He kicks away the blade, hands on his hips, breathing heavy.

"You okay?" Able asks at my side.

"Me?" I blink. "Are _you_? Are..." and just as I'm about to ask the dark hero, he vanishes.

"He's securing the room—come on," Able guides me back to the entrance.

In the front, Tucker and all Rogue Commanders group around their loot, a center pile of mostly motionless Kings. Several lay unconscious, mouths open but some—only a few—aren't fully gone, left with one eye open and still cursing through busted lips. Piled on top of each other, all have been tied up. Twine keeps their hands at their backs and close to their ankles which have been bound as well. Sixteen total.

Against seven Rogues.

The dark figure rounds behind me, his chest exhaling as he glances down at the collection. He throws the last King into the pot, topping it off with the largest Clansman. The few still awake let out a groan, the others merely sagging beneath the weight. Reid keeps his hands to his hips, speaking through a heavy pant. "Count off."

"Tucker."

"Kelly."

"Able."

"Chief."

"Jace."

"Harrison."

"Door?" Reid asks next to me, smearing soot from his cheek.

"Secure," Tucker says. "Sixteen Kings. Mantis and Grisham are a negative."

"Sixteen," Reid exhales, his body still slowing from dragging and binding the last King, "first round. Not bad. Tucker, Chief, Jace and Harrison with me to relocate the Kings. Able, Kelly—please take Fallon to my room. Afterward, grab a few—Booker, Merritt... the Carpenters—catch up with us when we loop back for the rest."

Both nod as Able hooks his arm in mine, Kelly moving ahead toward the exit. Reid's already busy discussing the best way to transfer the Kings. Able pulls me along, nearly out of the darkness but I turn in time to see the Rogues each throwing a limp King over their shoulders.

We're back at Reid's room in minutes, both escorts leaving me inside to pace. I didn't realize I was spending another night here... but I guess it's fine after that. Besides, I feel better not being alone anyway. Pacing the small bit of room, I go over everything. If we can just do that a few more times, _quickly_ , we'll be rid of the Kings in no time. They've already eliminated twenty Clansmen in total—nearly half! And it's only been a day!

It's takes longer than I expect for Reid to return. Minutes turn into hours and after the first two, I decide not to wait up for him and just go to sleep. I climb into his bed and the second I hit the pillow, I'm gone. After some time, I'm awoken by murmured whispers at the door.

They'll be screaming all night.

They deserve it.

_Thanks for your help_. _Tomorrow_.

The door closes and he's moving around behind me, the sound of fabric hitting the floor. Rolling over, I prop myself on my right elbow, drinking in the delicious sight. He's clad in black boxers and freshly showered. His damp brown hair clings to him, beads of remaining water sprinkled over his muscular chest and washboard abs.

"Hi."

His eyes fly to me, excited. "Hey," he smiles, suddenly wiping the humor from his face. "What're you still doing up?"

"What time is it?"

"Late."

I shrug. " _You're_ up."

"I was taking care of things."

Images from earlier race through my mind. I nod, unable to help biting my lip. "You look good in black."

"You saw me?"

"Every time," I smile. He doesn't return it, but nods to himself as if disappointed he wasn't more covert in his movements. "So they're out there now?"

"Yeah," he looks to the window. "Worked out better than we thought, actually."

"So another go for tomorrow?"

"Probably. Though," he makes his way to his mirror, "you may not be involved this time. Which I like."

"What do you mean?"

"Sampson and Jothkore gather during the day. Maybe you can go with them tomorrow."

"Really?" I sit up. "And the Dofinikes wouldn't know?"

"They don't have the manpower to supervise everyone, remember? They just want us to think they do."

"So I can gather tomorrow?"

Reid nods, "Plus it'll get you away from the Kings, which I also like. And you'll be with someone who can keep you safe."

"Can he?"

Reid scoffs, "Better than me."

"I don't believe it," I think of the way he moved earlier. Could anybody be better than that? Even Sampson?

"Believe it," he sighs. "If anyone can keep you safer than me, it's Sampson."

"And Jothkore?"

"Sampson trusts him. I trust Sampson," he offers as if the logic was irrefutable. "Gathering during the day is probably the safest place for you. And that," he climbs into the bed, "is the best thing to do."

***

"Fallon, wake up."

"Hmm..."

Reid's over me, wiping a curl from my face. He leans in and softly presses his lips to my right eye, mumbling into my skin. "Jothkore and Sampson are outside."

"Okay..."

"I wish you could stay here... in my bed," he trails his lips down my cheek, toward my lips. "What's the point of being Rox if I can't order it?"

"But..." I laugh, almost succumbing to the fire he's lighting, "...I'm not a Rogue."

He moves his mouth lower, onto my neck. "I could still make you stay..."

"Oh, no you don't," I slip out of the bed before he's able to make good on the threat. I glance in his mirror and pull my hair back in a ponytail of messy brown curls. I turn to Reid for approval but he merely watches.

"All right," he climbs out of the bed, gesturing to the door with a sigh, "go if you must."

I kiss him goodbye and once outside, I find Sampson and a tall stranger waiting in the darkened corridor. The newcomer is lighter-skinned, almost albino, and has bright green eyes and short blonde, nearly white hair. His hands are cupped behind his back, his mouth wide with a grin.

"Fallon," Sampson turns to his friend. "This is Jothkore."

"Good morning Fallon," Jothkore extends his right palm. "It's so very nice to meet you."

"Same," I take his hand but he captures mine in both of his. After a long moment he releases me.

"Should we be off then?"

We head for the hidden door in the wall and down into the tunnels below. After a while, we emerge into the dense greenery of Harrizel's jungle. It's dusted in a soft white morning mist that settles just above the damp ground. Sampson and Jothkore take languid steps in the same direction, deep into the shadowed silhouettes of oversized bushes and hanging, crisscrossing vines. They walk almost the same path, step for step, gliding through the broken city with natural ease.

"Fallon," Sampson gestures toward a small group of Marowine bushes. He hands me the same foldable bamboo basket, "if you could collect some Marowines..."

I pass the first few hours filling baskets with the food, continually returning them to Sampson who hands me another empty container, requesting I gather more.

The sun is fully in the sky, nearly hanging in the center when Sampson strides over. "Hungry?"

"A little..." I didn't eat earlier and my stomach started growling about half an hour ago so yeah, I could eat.

"Let's take a break," Sampson leads me to a small clearing beyond Ellae's edge, just in sight of the Rinzal Tree. He pauses, gazing at it for only a second before gesturing to a wide, low stump. Jothkore's seated himself on one across from mine and Sampson leans against a tree, a Gupple in hand. He brings it up to his mouth and takes a bite.

"You come out here every day?" I pluck a Rublie from a nearby bush as I make for the stump."Every day," Jothkore nods, biting into his Gupple.

"And you make deliveries to Tucker?"

He finishes chewing and shakes his head, "To Able."

"How often?" I pick a couple red Rublie beads and toss them into my mouth.

"Every day. Every morning before first bell and again after your return back from second meal," Jothkore pauses with his Gupple, surprise emanating from his emerald eyes. "Has Reid not told you any of this?"

We both glance to Sampson but he's gazing off into the distance, toward the Rinzal Tree. He's lost in it, somewhere else—another time perhaps. The Gupple is clutched in his hand, which hangs idly at his side, no longer the reason for his break.

"Well," Jothkore goes on, "I'd like to help more, but I'm afraid I've been too conspicuous already. Things have been..." he slows, searching for the word, "...hectic for a bit, so it was easier for me to slip in and out. But now, with more visits from the High Vermix, there's a tighter hold on things. More accountability. And..." he sighs heavily, the worst news yet. "Tetlak suspects."

"Why is that so terrible?"

"Son of a High Vermix," Sampson answers, "if he makes it a serious issue, Jothkore could be arrested."

"And you don't think he's known this whole time?" I ask.

"Oh he has..." Jothkore nods, "but now he's losing Clansmen. _Rapidly_ ," he shoots Sampson a nervous glance. "Once he finds out his business is hurting..."

"He knows Jothkore supplies the Rogues," Sampson continues, "but he hasn't come forward because until now it's worked in his favor. Slaves at war with each other, keeps things simple. But things are shifting so it's no longer profitable to him," Sampson sighs. "It's only a matter of time."

"Nine days?" I throw out.

"Most likely."

I turn to Jothkore. "Are you scared?"

"Of what?" he laughs at the absurdness of the question. "Accused of being an Arizal? Serving beneath Fychu Sampson?" he laughs again, the idiocy arising. "No, it would only unveil my greatest honor. Though..." and he shakes his head at the sad truth, "my country would see it as betrayal."

"Being an Arizal is acknowledged throughout your galaxy?"

" _Your_ galaxy," Sampson motions to me, losing focus with the Rinzal Tree as he mumbles to himself, "now..."

"Yes," Jothkore answers. "It's known throughout the Three Worlds."

"So how is it a bad thing? It means universal peace, right?"

" _Exactly_."

"But as Dofinikes, we're expected to remain Vermix," Sampson mutters lowly and mostly to himself. "Anything else is treason."

"Can't you just move off the moon? Escape Dellapalania?" I look between the two of them.

"We could..." Jothkore starts.

"Only Mybyncia..." Sampson is still staring at that tree. "Which we may have to. Once Harrizel is liberated."

"Parts of Nerwolix would accept us..."

Sampson shoots him a look and Jothkore drops it.

"Well..." I focus on Jothkore, hoping for the best. "Do you know where they keep the weapons? I know the memories are top secret..."

"No," he shakes his head sadly, "unfortunately, I'm not privy to information of that rank. But I listen. I keep my ears open for anything useful but no one's talking. Not with the High Vermix's visit so soon."

It all sounds so impossible all of a sudden. Before I realize I'm asking, the question slips from my lips. "Do we have a chance?"

"Oh yes, Fallon," Jothkore nods with such certainty it's hard not to believe him. "Without a doubt."

"We'll have defenses," Sampson reassures me, gazing off at the pink and peach tree, it's long, billowy tresses dancing on the breeze. "You don't have to worry about that."

We finish eating and gather for another few hours, until the sun moves further across the sky. Jothkore and Sampson retrieve me this time, both with six baskets tied together to create one massive bundle, strapped across their backs. Sampson takes my basket filled with plump Marowines and adds a second bamboo container to it, strapping it on my back in the same fashion as theirs. It only adds a little weight but nothing I can't manage.

"That should do it. Is it too heavy?"

"Nope."

"Good," Sampson smiles, gesturing away from Ellae. "Best we get you back."

We make for the Castle, Sampson navigating the sea of multilayered foliage, constricting and controlling as we push through. I'm at his side.

"Do you think he'll let me come with you again?"

"I don't see why not," Sampson considers, "we need extra food and with Jothkore's restricted hours, extra hands wouldn't hurt."

"Did it take a lot for him to let me go with you?"

He scoffs, "I don't know _how_ many times I had to reassure him it was safe.

"Too many!" Jothkore adds behind us. "But fourteen if you want a number."

"Yes, something like that," Sampson agrees. "I had to talk logistics and security. Only way it'd convince him."

"Thank you," I offer. "He said you'd protect me better than he could."

"He underestimates himself."

"You've seen him fight?"

The Bathing Bubble last night was too eye opening for me, something I still haven't quite wrapped my mind around. He was a machine, soaring through the shadows like he belonged there. Like he was born to manipulate them, to control them.

"Oh yes," Sampson smiles to himself, swimming through the greenery. "Before _and_ after."

"Before and after what?"

A moment and then,"... _I_ trained him."

"That's why he has that mark on him. The Chuloo?" I keep quick to Sampson's feet, desperate to keep him going on this subject. "Because he's an Arizal solider now?"

"Yes, he is an Arizal but I've given him _all_ the knowledge I can. He's also been trained on Vermix intelligence, as I have. The others call him Rox," Sampson glances at me, "which means unbreakable, I'm sure you've been told."

"Yeah, Pratt told me."

"Rox, in my language, is a title given to the _warrior_ ," he catches my eye, which holds mine, registering my comprehension.

Reid is a warrior?

"But he knew how to fight before you got to him?"

"Oh yes. Reid was already well-trained in the art of combat—perhaps a lifestyle from his time on earth? I'm sure his memories will reveal a great deal," Sampson nods, trudging through swinging vines and oversized foliage. We arrive at Reid's room some time later and I hand over my pack of Marowines to Sampson and Jothkore who drop it off at Able's bunk.

The next few days pass the same way. Out before First bell rings, gathering food for hours and back before Leisure Time, Sampson and Jothkore relocating all the collected food to Able. It's only one day until freedom, when Beshib leaves and we take back the Castle.

I've been gathering all day and we're heading back with the haul, as usual. We're outside the Castle and underground, Sampson and Jothkore keeping to my sides. They start slowing and I figure it's just a break until they swap words in their language, Jothkore motioning to me. Sampson shakes his head and repeats himself. I don't know what he's saying but I recognize the same pattern of sounds. He says it once more, resting a hand on Jothkore's shoulder.

The two turn to me.

"We have to go deliver these," Sampson motions to the packs on his back, "time sensitive."

Jothkore's already freeing my haul and flipping it back on his.

"Straight across the Courtyard and up," Sampson indicates to the outline ahead on the wall.

Are they not walking me up? But they shouldn't have to, not with all they're carrying, _plus_ mine. Everyone's most likely in the Auditorium for Leisure Time, or will be making their way up to their rooms. It'll be fine. But still, I know I should push it further. I know Reid would want me to make more of a fuss.

"I don't have a sirolla."

"He'll be in his room," Sampson starts moving away with Jothkore, severing the conversation. "Be careful," he tosses over his shoulder and disappears with his babeeb down the hall.

He's gone before I can form a response, before I realize what's happening—I'm alone and without guard. And I'm only at the bottom wall. There are a solid twelve flights of stairs and a Courtyard of well-situated trees to cross before I'm at Reid's room.

I slide the door open and peer into the empty Courtyard.

Nothing.

Scanning all four stairwells down to the Auditorium and up, high into the tower, I search for anything. Any movement, any source of life that could reveal the danger. But nothing moves. Everything's still.

Silent.

I slip out, sliding the door closed behind me. Something in my core tells me not to move. Not to go further into the open square. Even the black tarantula trees seem to hold their branches out in warning— _stay back_. But I can't retreat. Sampson and Jothkore are gone so the only way is forward. Out across the Courtyard and up twelve flights to Reid's room. If I jet into a run, I could be there in just a few minutes. That's all I need.

Breathing deeply, I push myself forward. My feet hit the purple and gray-checkered ground with slight smacks, echoing loudly off the open square. Halfway across the Courtyard, when my heart's already thumping rapidly, I see him.

Stepping out from one of the black furred trees, he's the size of a boulder. I don't have a minute to think. He sets off for me at a dead run and suddenly I'm frozen.

_Shit_.

#  Chapter Twenty-Four: Rogue Rox

I should've pressed Sampson and Jothkore to escort me— _demanded_ it—but it's too late. Too worried about being rude, I've paid for good manners with my life. Because with the way that King is running at me, I'll be dead in seconds. Saying a final goodbye, I try not to let my bladder go, aware that one blow from him could smash my head in.

Movement to the right.

Reid jets out, sweeping across the ground under the King's legs, tripping him. His massive body plunges to the checkered marble, the impact sending him tumbling and cursing as he slides a ways to a stop. But before he's able to get up, Reid springs on his back, twisting his arm and jabbing him with rapid, pointed fingers. He flies off the King, leaving him paralyzed.

Reid looks to me and my breath catches.

Then we see the rest—Kings emerging behind every tree in the Courtyard. My body is suddenly frozen again, a new fear taking over. We're insanely outnumbered. Who am I kidding? Reid. _Reid is_ insanely outnumbered. He's a few feet across from me, pacing methodically slow, like a wild-cat sizing up a fight with its prey. His eyes dart around the circle of Kings, calculating as he nods to himself, hands on his hips.

They're crowding in and I do my own quick count.

Eleven...

Twelve...

I'm almost full circle when another nauseating sight trickles through me. We're _really_ in trouble. Even more Kings arrive, sneaking out from the shadows of the stairwells and Courtyard edges, all slowly moving in, encircling us.

Fifteen...

Sixteen...

Seventeen...

Are they _all_ here? And what about the Rogues?

The Kings increase their lingering steps to hurried strides. Reid snatches me behind him, poised, still and ready for the attack. He doesn't seem afraid but me—I'm shaking. My heart's racing and all I can think about is how impossible it'll be to get out of this. There are too many and only two of us. How can—

Everything happens at once.

Bodies flood the Courtyard, colliding with the oncoming Kings to ignite an all-out riot. Rogues fly up from the Auditorium and down the stairwells, smashing into the outer layer of the Kings' quickly descending circle, drawing their attention to close range duels. Several Kings resist the temptation, pushing past, bulldozing for Reid and I like prized treasures. Will they be the one to deliver us to Grisham? And what will Mantis reward them with?

Reid flies around me, moving gracefully through the air as he blocks each King that comes at us. He offers fierce jabs, interweaving kicks to the head, chest and legs, immobilizing their progress before they've made any, always keeping our tiny bubble safe. The Kings fall to the ground one by one, yelping and cursing in pain, roaring to themselves to get back up. Some even try and Reid crosses back over them, knocking them down with final blows.

The four remaining Kings fly at us at a dead run, death promised in their dark, fury-infested eyes. Chief swims between them, tossing the glass rod through the air. Reid catches it in his right hand, steadying his stance, concentrating. Closing his eyes, he listens, ready to pounce.

Just when the Kings surround us, Reid jolts into action. Sweeping the rod around him, he busts all of their knee caps, the four hitting the ground with a hard thump. But he doesn't stop. He flies over them, bringing the rod down, stilling their yelping with additional strikes to their wounds.

Even with the riot ongoing, another King gets past the Rogues and flies at us. But Reid caps him, the King falling to the ground before he gets within feet of me. Blood sprays, the two Clans ripping into each other, some pulling out blades. Screams ripple through the air but then, as quickly as it started, it's over. Silence replaces the sound of flesh hitting flesh and painful, agonizing yelps. The movement stops and the Courtyard is splattered with fallen bodies, half the Rogues standing over them.

Reid pants and surveys the lot. He nods at Tucker.

"Rogues," Tucker commands and they tend to each King, laying them on their stomachs and roping their ankles and wrists behind them with the same twine like rope. "Quickly."

The Rogues set off dragging their claimed prizes to one of the nearly invisible doors on the Northwest Wall. Remaining Clansmen follow after, wiping all left over blood from the area.

Finally, with Reid glancing around, satisfied by the quick clean up, he turns to me. "Are you okay?"

My mouth hangs open with a thousand different responses, the most urgent slipping out first. "Was that the rest of them?"

"Not all. We don't have Mantis and Grisham. But don't worry," he promises, "we will. Right now as a matter of fact. _Able_ ," he calls.

"Yeah, Boss?" he sprints across the Courtyard.

"Stay with her. Do _not_ leave her side."

"Where are you going?" I ask.

"To bring you Mantis and Grisham."

"Where?"

"To bury them." He nods at Able a final time before darting to catch up with Tucker, Chief, Harrison and Jace.

"Come on," Able tugs me close to him, slipping his arm in mine as we follow the Rogues. "We've got to go."

Sampson and Jothkore wait in the tunnels for us, Jothkore helping to guide the Rogues through the labyrinth, though, by now, they seem to have the hang of it. Sampson clings to my side, a babeeb in his hand as he looks down to me with an apologetic frown.

"So sorry Fallon. It would only work if you walked out there alone."

"Couldn't throw me a clue?"

"They lost too many Kings with false information..." Able starts in on my other side. "They needed to see you. Needed to have an honest reaction."

"But wasn't it obvious that it was a trap? Seeing me alone?" I follow Sampson who holds the babeeb out in front, lighting our way.

"Of course," Able nods, keeping our arms linked tightly together, "that's why they sent the new recruits in first—pawns to see the set up. They couldn't afford to keep risking their men like that."

"So..."

"So when they saw Reid come to your rescue, they thought that was it," Able shrugs, "what'd they know? They thought they'd just grab you both and be done. Easy enough."

"They knew he wouldn't be far from you," Sampson selects the left tunnel when we come to a fork. "Wouldn't leave you so vulnerable. They just had to wait for him and that was it."

"Also," Able starts in again, "I'm sure the Kings thought with their remaining Clansmen—only seven I might add—and _all_ the new recruits still on their side, they'd have it in the bag, no matter what we had set up."

"They didn't expect the other Rogues?" I ask.

"I'm sure they did," Able grins. "But they underestimated us, didn't they?"

"So wait," I look between him and Sampson, "you said only seven of them were actual Kings?"

"Yep."

"What happened to the rest of them?"

"Captured throughout the week," Able laughs. "This was their final chance and now with Rox going to get Mantis and Grisham..." he shakes his head. "We'll be set for tomorrow."

Is that it then? Are the Kings done? It seems so surreal to think it actually worked. And that tomorrow is the day, the beginning of Beshib's ten day departure before he comes back and everything changes. Tomorrow we're taking back the Castle.

We follow the Rogues as they drag semi-limp Kings through the tunnels behind them. Some still struggle but with their arms and ankles bound behind their back and only a small length of twine between, it's useless. There's nothing they can do—or _are_ doing—other than tiring themselves and after a while, most stop trying.

"Is he going to kill Mantis and Grisham?" I ask.

Sampson tosses his head back and forth, seeing both sides of the coin while Able remains silent, imagining the gruesome image.

"So..." I clear my throat after a lengthy silence. "That's a 'most likely'?"

"I would if I were him," Able mumbles, "after all the shit they've pulled. Although I don't have the stomach for what he'd do... if he does it."

"Reid will be just in his actions," Sampson adds his opinion but leaves it at that.

He did mention burying them. They've both wanted him dead for a long time so why shouldn't he end it while he can? Especially when there are more important things to be concerned with.

Like tomorrow.

It takes some effort to drag the fallen Kings from the tunnels and up the rooted steps, especially the few still squirming and struggling. But we finally get everyone out and keep moving alongside Ellae and eventually, past it and into the field of massive Banyan trees. We move in a steady stream, exploring the tangled roots through a layer of powdered mist.

Finally reaching the threshold of low mumblings, the Rogues hurry by with quicker strides, eager to make their deposit. Once they do they jet back, just outside the line of deformity. Sampson slows, lighting our way past Hinson and into the field of trees, bodies growing from their trunks like parasites. They're talking to themselves or snapping at anyone who comes too close. Between the trees and across the ground of skin, lies a blanket of captured Kings, all bound and gagged.

"Yep," Able nods, watching me survey the scene, "that's all of them. Except Mantis and Grisham, who should be arriving here shortly."

The Kings, all forty-four of them, lay sprawled throughout the trees, some up against the trunks where knees and calves slap them with involuntary spasms. But the Clansmen are out cold, unconscious.

"They're just here all day?" I ask motioning to the Kings.

"And night."

"Somebody watching them? Feeding them?"

"Making sure they're still alive?" he shrugs, laughing. "...Something like that."

A loud dragging brushes through the trees and we all turn to look. Reid emerges through the mist first, followed by Tucker and Chief, both hauling two bound bodies on the ground behind them.

Mantis, I recognize instantly, with that red flame crawling up his neck and those dark, seedy little eyes. He's coiled into himself, daring anyone to touch him so he can lash out at least once, getting one good strike in. And next to him, the leader of the Kings.

Grisham.

He has a reddish undertone with copper whiskers above and below his mouth, aging him. But his eyes, two blue spheres, still loom with a youthful eagerness of life. Hunger. Determination. They're calmer than his partner's though, like he understands this protocol and is willing to submit since its standard procedure.

Reid looks to me.

"Stand them up," he orders, his eyes unwavering.

Tucker and Chief both yank their hostages from the ground. Unlike the others, Mantis and Grisham's ties aren't connected behind their backs. They're dragged along by their ankle restraints and quickly propped to their feet, wrists cuffed at their front.

Reid has them face their Clan.

Mantis and Grisham take in the grisly scene but if it has any affect on them, they don't show it. Both Kings remains stoic, as if Reid were wasting their time, as if they had other things they could be doing.

"Regrettably for you," he looks at his two captures, both unable to speak due to the bundle of cloth jammed in their mouths, "you've lost."

Mantis glares through sharpened slits as Reid passes, but then shifts focus to me, his fury rising. As if it's my fault he's here. As if he didn't start this himself that day when he struck me. His stare sends a shiver down my spine until his head is knocked to the side with a violent blow.

"Eyes _off_ ," Reid growls.

Grisham mumbles beneath his gag. Reid nods to Tucker who removes the cloth as a disturbing smile crosses Grisham's face. It's like he's comfortable with all this, like he's enjoying it.

"You were always my favorite. Such fire. Leadership. I should've known. I should've made _you_ my right hand."

Mantis's head snaps to Grisham, his eyes wide with wrath. It looks like he's ready to fly at him but Jace keeps him held down, locked to his post.

"Don't insult me," Reid laughs. "You have the perfect hand of the devil here. And I'm not looking for a new post."

"Well Rogue Rox suits you."

"You gave me no choice."

"You always have a choice," his smile wanes. "You chose to leave."

"You took my choice when you asked me to snatch Sadie. When you asked me to snatch innocent people," he gestures to the lot behind them, to the trees with mutated people. "Like your handiwork?"

Grisham shrugs. "It keeps me fed. And it's not _my_ handiwork. That belongs to Beshib."

"So you knew what they were doing all along?"

Again, Grisham shrugs. "As I said, it keeps me fed. And isn't that what survival is about?"

"Don't seem to be nailing it right now."

"Well..." he grins, glancing down at his restraints. "Let's even it out, shall we? Give your Rogues here a _real_ show."

"You must think I'm stupid."

"Not stupid. Brave. _Honorable_."

Reid bites his lips, considering, "...Still coming back to stupid."

"Come on Rox, let's give them a show," his eyes flare. "They're _nothing_ compared to what you or I am capable of."

Reid's brow furrows. "You never fought on Harrizel."

"That's not true. I did... before you arrived. Before they rigged the gate, _I_ was the first to leave and find food. And I was _good_ at it," he grins pompously. "Every night I'd bring back Gupples. Enough for myself _plus_ some. Bribed others to do what I wanted. Do things _for_ me. Got me laid," he laughs, "that was the best part. Then Tetlak showed up and it all went to shit. Nearly killed me but I fought that fucker," Grisham shakes his head, still grinning at the memory.

"He should've killed you then."

"He wanted to. Almost did," Grisham laughs, "...said he hated humans, everything to do with them, made him sick. But I made him a deal. He said he'd let me live—even supply me with food—if I collected the humans he wanted. I said tell me when and where you want them. Easy as that."

"And then you started recruiting."

"I needed help. Business was booming. Thought I put together a good team..." he glances to his fallen Clan, then back up to Reid. "So what do you say? How's a real duel sound? One that matches your... special set of skills."

Reid pauses to consider his offer, cupping his chin in thought. A few seconds go by before he shakes his head. "Nope, I don't think so." Reid slams his fist into Grisham's face, knocking him to the ground, motionless. "Move him over with the others."

Tucker and Chief follow Reid's order without question. Reid moves to Mantis who is all but squirming out of Jace and Harrison's hold. He's ready. Ready to fight, to kill, to unleash the urge coursing through him. Reid nods to Jace to remove his gag and when he does, Mantis's curses start spilling out of him.

"Now you, on the other hand," Reid interjects, pacing. "I'm not so ready to throw onto the pile."

"Going to kill me like a coward?"

"No," Reid shakes his head, business-like, "you're going to work for your death. I'm not handing it over that easy."

I stop. Did I hear correctly? I look to Reid who's backing up, nodding to his Rogues. He motions behind me, out of the lot of bodies.

"We'll do it there. Looper, stay with the Kings and Grisham. We won't be far," Reid looks back to Mantis. "How about that rematch you always wanted?"

"What's the point? You'll kill me in seconds," he searches him. "Where's that rod you always carry? Your safety blanket?"

"No weapons. I plan on killing you with my hands."

Again, my eyes fly to Reid.

"Jace," he motions for him to follow.

Jace knocks Mantis to the ground and then grabs the cord bound at his ankles to drag him. Mantis squirms, struggling to free himself as the rest of the Rogues follow. Able hooks his arm in mine, escorting me alongside until the Clan wraps itself into a giant circle around Reid, a few paces from the entrance to the mutated lot.

Able and I find a Banyan tree wide enough to hold us, along with Sampson and Pratt who claim our sides. Everything's quiet. No one dares speak as Jace drags Mantis into the gaping circle and leaves him there.

Reid paces for a second before yanking off his scrub shirt and tossing it to the ground. Cracking his knuckles, he moves like a feral beast, sizing up his prey with a calm but murderous hunger I've never seen.

Reid nods at Tucker.

Tucker steps into the circle and with a little, hidden blade, frees the restraints on Mantis's wrists and ankles. Mantis flies for him but Tucker jumps back into the Rogues' shielding circle.

"Scared?" he snivels.

"You're Rox's kill," Tucker shakes his head with all sincerity, as though the outcome of the fight's already been decided. "Not mine."

Mantis's focus darts around the heavy circle. All twenty-seven Rogues, plus a few selected Scouts, watch with a hungry vengeance that could almost rival Reid's. Mantis turns to face him and raises his arms enticingly.

"Ready Rox?" he sneers. "Or should I call you Reid?"

Reid waits, closing his eyes, his feet apart. Mantis charges him and it all happens so fast.

Just as he rushes head on for Reid, as though to bulldoze him to the ground, Reid pushes off, spiraling through the air and lands on the opposite side of him. Once he makes contact with the ground again, he holds himself on one foot, using the other to fly across Mantis's jaw.

Mantis staggers back for a moment. He throws his leg up to kick Reid in the stomach but Reid anticipates the hit, dropping his hands on Mantis's foot, knocking his strike off balance. Mantis stumbles and Reid uses the moment to push him back down before dropping into a crouch-like position and swinging his leg out. As Mantis stumbles backwards again, he trips on Reid's kick and flies to the ground, landing with a thunderous crash. But he scrambles back up, fists at his sides, his eyes wrathful.

Mantis flies at Reid in a dead run. He swings both fists, aiming to clobber Reid in the face but Rox ducks both hits, matching the engagement with his own blows to Mantis's right side, finishing with a violent uppercut to his chin. Mantis falls back again, crashing to the ground, his chest heaving.

Has he not seen Reid fight? He must have. Back during the first time they met in combat. Maybe he just forgot or thought he knew...

Maybe Reid was holding back the first time. But now he's out for blood.

Reid circles Mantis, watching him... waiting.

Mantis takes a moment for himself before gathering to his feet again. He's slow to rise and when he does, his dark eyes narrow into slits. He's a bull, ready to bulldoze again but smarter this time. The two of them circle each other for a minute as the Rogues start to add their own chorus of jeers and cheers. Suddenly the dark forest is alive with the fiery spirit of competition.

"All you can do is dance around?" Mantis spits a loogie of blood.

Reid cracks his neck, then his knuckles.

"Come on," Mantis laughs. "What'cha waiting for there, Reid? Just going to use fancy moves on me all day? That's not how real men fight. _Real_ men," and he spits again, "fight in close range. Bet you don't know—"

Reid is in his face, knocking it back with blow after blow after blow. He must hit him for four or five times before Mantis counters with a jab to Reid's side. He doesn't even register it. Accepting the blow, Reid spins around, locking his arms around Mantis's shoulders and, picking him up, throws him over and slams him into the ground.

Mantis lies still for a long minute.

Eventually he gets up, his face splattered with red. It drips from the corner of his eye, both nostrils and the gaping split in his lip. Again, he takes his time in recovering to a full stand but just as he gets to it, Reid is at him, delivering several sharp hits to his center frame with dagger-like fingers. He finalizes it with a roundhouse kick to Mantis's head, knocking the King back to the ground.

The Rogues erupt in cheering roars as Reid circles Mantis's body.

"It's almost not fair," Able whispers in my ear.

"Is he really going to kill him?"

"He said so."

After a minute of pacing Mantis's nearly limp body, Reid yanks him to his feet. Mantis's eyes are barely open, his face a swollen mash of red. Barely conscious, Reid drags him by the neck of his scrub from the center of the circle toward me. My heart beats erratically as the two draw closer. Feet away, Reid throws Mantis to his knees. Grabbing his hair, he holds the King's head high, so he can look at me.

"I'll let you live," Reid growls. "If you apologize to her."

With only his left eye half-open, Mantis takes in my sight. By the look on his face, he might already be brain damaged but he still manages to spit a bloody mouthful at me. It lands in a small puddle at my feet.

"Wrong," Reid places his hands around Mantis's head. In one swift movement, he twists it to the side and Mantis's body falls to the ground, limp. Heaving out exhausted breaths, Reid looks to me and I freeze.

There's something there, something lingering in his eyes, haunting them. It's the kill. The _killer_ staring back at me. Part of me wants to rush up and hold him but the other part is frozen stiff. Reid's an animal right now, a lethal, unmatched predator.

He's Rox.

I'm too in shock to really do anything except stand here and allow the tree and Able to hold me up. But even Able has withdrawn his arm from mine.

Reid glances around the circle, which has erupted in cheers for him. He motions for Tucker and Jace and then down to Mantis on the ground. The two Rogues run out and start dragging the limp body back toward the mutated lot, everyone else following. Sampson is at Reid's side, the two in quick, quiet chatter.

Able links arms with me again, directing us behind the other Rogues. Still in too much shock to really do anything, I allow Able to lead me away, trying to wrap my mind around what just happened. What I just saw.

"Looper," Reid says once he returns from his chat with Sampson. "Your shift tonight?"

"Yes, Rox," he's a boy in his late teens and has fragile hazel eyes which blink up to Reid with a slight hint of awe.

Still full of heavy breaths, he gestures to another kid across the way. "Aristen, stick with Looper. We'll retrieve you tomorrow before we begin. Be ready."

"Yes, Rox," they both say.

Reid nods to the other Rogues scattered through the mutated lot. Most stand at the ready, as if another order to fight was coming, as if they were ready to take the Castle back _now_. All pumped with adrenaline from the scene they just witnessed, they're eager to join Rox, to bear the bloodied knuckles and heroic sweat that paces back and forth like a lion roaming in its den.

Keeping his head low, Reid rubs his hands together. "You've done _excellent_ Rogues. Everything asked of you and more. And this," he points to the lot of fallen Kings, glancing around his own Clansmen. " _You_ did this. But, the fight is far from over. It hasn't even begun. Tonight..." he takes a few steps. "We can sleep knowing we've cleaned the Castle of its termites. Tomorrow," and now he stops, his stone body still as he catches eyes with his Rogues, "we'll rid it of its Vermix."

The Rogues erupt in a mighty roar, each throwing their fists high in the air. 'Rox' is cheered over and over in triumphant praise, wave after wave filling the dark night with the roar of his name.

Reid stands, hands on his hips, drowned in cheers and gratitude by his Clan. He's defeated the Kings and now he's on to claim the Castle, to give them back their freedom. Able was right—Reid is everything to the Rogues. They'd do _anything_ for him, anything at all. It doesn't matter. Reid is their leader, their fearless general to lead them into battle.

He's their Rox—unbreakable.

Reid motions back out of the lot, Tucker and Sampson instantly joining his side. The three disappear between a set of fat trunks, already lost in private words. Jace, Chief, Harrison and Kelly follow behind them quickly, the rest of the Rogues after that. Pratt keeps to my left while Able pulls me along on my right, leading us into the stream of Clansmen.

We make our way back to the division, where the misty field of Banyans meet the jungle and then through Ellae. Finally, we reach the tunnels and make it to the Castle's stairwell, the Rogues departing one by one. Sampson, Pratt and Vix all break off and eventually, it's just Reid and I.

Thought after thought erupts in the slow walk to his room, my chest booming like a drum. The scene plays in my head, images of Mantis's twisted head and limp body suffocating me. I follow Reid to his room in silence, biting my lip while trying to dispel everything I saw, everything that happened. I'm not sure what I expected but it wasn't that. And now, _now_ I know what Reid's capable of. What he can do if he must.

Finally, we reach the familiar crimson arch. He steps in and I'm right behind him, my heart ticking heavily, sounding throughout my body like a countdown.

Reid moves for his mirror. He checks the side where Mantis got his jab in but there's no mark to indicate a hit was even received. Exhaling, he examines the rest of his body from earlier, in the Courtyard. There's a tiny gash on his right shoulder and some pink swelling down on his lower back but nothing else. Finally, he turns his focus on his bloodied knuckles which he flexes a few times. In silence he moves for the bowl and places it atop his bed.

I'm at his side, taking the container from him. "Let me do it for you."

"You want to?"

I rub the medicine onto his knuckles in circular motions and do both hands slowly, making sure each bit of torn skin is addressed. When I'm done with his hands, I have him turn around. I rub some of the Vilbrees on the gash on his shoulder and even some on his lower back, where the pink swelling has turned a dark red. "There. All done."

He nods, returning to the mirror to check himself one more time. After a minute, he props his arm against the wall, his head dropping. "I didn't mean for you to see all that."

I frown, returning the bowl under his bed. "Then why have me go?"

"Are you kidding? I couldn't leave you behind unguarded. But," he wipes his hands down his face, "I didn't want you to see that. You..." he risks a glance at me, "are you scared of me now?"

Am I?

"Why would I be scared of you?"

He turns around, leaning against the wall as he crosses his arms. For a long minute he only stares at me. He's trying to figure something out.

"So it doesn't bother you?"

"What?"

"What I did."

I shake my head. "You did what you had to do. You did it for the Rogues."

"I did it for you," he stalks toward me, his body emitting feral power that sets fire to mine. Instinctively I step back, my heart racing with each step he takes. Slowing, he places his hands on either side of my face, on the wall behind me, locking me to it. A lump rolls down his throat.

"Reid..."

His dark eyes dart over me and he leans in, but stops before our mouths make contact. Hovering just above, he inhales. "Tell me."

"Tell you what?"

"Tell me what you want."

"What I want?" my heart races, fire sparking throughout me. I'm not sure what he's asking—what he's doing. But he refuses to budge, keeping me locked here beneath him, waiting for an answer I don't fully understand. "What do you mean what I want?"

"I've made it more than clear what I want. _You_ ," he leans in further. "I want you."

His addicting scent mixed with his proximity—I'm losing control. I know what I want, what I've wanted for a while, but it seems silly when so much is at stake. What does he expect me to say? "I..."

"You..."

I'm getting dizzy. With him so close and his tantalizing breath, I won't be able to say no. But I don't want to say no. It was too fast before but now... now all I want is this. Is him.

"Fallon?"

"You..." it comes out an aching whisper. "...I want you."

His mouth lifts a fraction of an inch before he slides his hands to my backside and lifts me, wrapping my legs around his hips. He presses me to the wall and dives in hungrily, opening my mouth with his and suddenly, everything is unleashed. Everything I've kept in and wanted to hold back—it's pouring out of me and onto him. I kiss him furiously, _insatiably_ , as he carries to his bed.

He has me on my back in an instant but I climb on top, straddling him. Unable to stop my hands, I graze my fingers down his torso and back up, around his neck, pulling him closer. He kisses me just as hard and lifts my arms, yanking my top off. Our skin brushes and I'm on fire, especially as he unclasps my bra and tosses it to the side. He groans, his hands running up my front as he rolls me over, flattening me to his bed.

He kisses down to my chest and takes me into his hand, squeezing. He pulls back long enough to strip my bottoms from my legs before removing his own. My heart races as he covers me again, his mouth grazing my neck. He trails his hand up my thigh and I burn alive as he reaches my apex. I nearly cry out, but he's kissing me, groaning against my mouth.

"I've wanted this," he whispers, separating my legs with his.

Slowly he slides into me, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his mouth drops open in silent pleasure. It sets me boiling, especially as Reid returns focus to me, burning me with his adoring gaze. Electricity erupts as he starts rocking his hips against mine, burying himself deep inside. A dark rumble from the back of his throat and he pins my hands above my head.

"Reid..." I whimper, arching back, giving myself to him. " _Please_."

"God I want you," he growls into my ear as a needful ache grows. "You're so beautiful."

He moves faster and I'm breathless, amazed at the way this feels, the way _he_ feels inside me. I'm already nearing my peak, on a level of ecstasy I didn't know existed.

" _Now_..." I cry, " _please_..."

Threading our fingers together, he locks himself to me and pounds away. He sends me higher and higher and just when I think I can't take it anymore, he drives himself in for the final blow. I scream his name as he shatters me, ripple after ripple erupting through my body, which glows in response to him.

Through a strained voice, he calls for me too, his body tensing over mine. Suddenly he pulls out, shuddering himself, my thigh instantly wet. Panting, Reid falls on top of me—his body, one massive heap crushing mine. Still coming back down, I lick my lips, trying to slow my thundering heart.

"Is that..." I catch my breath, "...that what you wanted?"

"Yeah," he gulps, his chest still heaving. "You... I wanted you."

"Good."

Another minute passes. Running my fingers through his hair, I feel his heartbeat press into me. Who knows what tomorrow will bring or even a year from now—if we're still alive to see it—but in this moment, I'm happy. And suddenly, an overwhelming urge to express my feelings grows.

"Ansley was an idiot," I whisper, stroking his scalp.

He's silent, his chest expanding into mine. Another long minute passes before he mutters into my skin, "...Said she was confused. _She_ was confused," he laughs, "yeah, cause _I_ was expecting it."

"How'd you find out?"

"Pratt."

"Pratt?"

He nods but doesn't elaborate.

I brush his hair back, whispering into his brow. " _I'm_ not confused."

Finally, he looks up, resting his chin on my chest. He picks up a curl and starts playing with it, a dopey grin crossing his face. He loops the curl around his finger, mesmerized until it uncoils and drifts down the rest of his hand. When it falls off his pinky, he frowns momentarily, selects another curl and starts again.

"You know I'll keep you safe right?" his eyes fly to mine with a sense of protectiveness I've never seen. "Tomorrow."

"I know."

"I will _never_ let anything hurt you," his eyes shift between mine as a lump rolls down his throat. "Never."

Sinking his head to my shoulder, Reid nestles into my shoulder and eventually, after a few quiet minutes, he falls asleep. I stay awake for a while longer, staring into the babeebs, afraid to admit what's been growing inside me all along. But I need to say it. Just so I can hear it aloud. Once. Even if he doesn't know; I can't keep it inside me any longer.

Brushing my lips against his temple, I whisper the quiet, terrifying truth, "...I love you, Reid."

#  Chapter Twenty-Five: Revolt

It's almost time.

The bell to dismiss us from Rebuilding is about to blare and I've been waiting all day to hear it—the last time we'll be ever be dismissed. Even with the Kings gone, Reid had Able escort me for the day. It was like watching the dead walk with some of the looks I got once I emerged outside. _Fallon's still alive?_ _She hasn't been seen for days!_ Hour after hour and the stares didn't stop. I wouldn't mind so much if I didn't already feel exposed knowing what we're planning for tonight. Everyone thinks this is just another day at Rebuilding and that they'll be coming back tomorrow. Assuming everything goes smoothly—and we all don't die terribly, of course—they won't.

Maybe I should've pushed Reid for more information on what we're doing. All he said was _stay nearby._ How do I prepare with that?

Ssccreeacch!!

This is it.

Able motions me out of the trench and keeps behind me, casual like normal. He's hasn't flinched all day. Actually, besides acknowledging me in his escort, he hasn't talked all day. It's like he wants to stay as quiet and under the radar as possible. Which I guess makes sense.

Climbing out of the trench, I follow the crowds across the pen, funneling into the open portcullis. Able has my right arm hooked in his but Reid is suddenly at my left hip, a determined stride leading us through the Courtyard and toward the closest stairwell. Glancing over my shoulder, I see the rest of the Rogue Commanders along with the Carpenters falling in behind us and scattered throughout the ever-thinning crowd. Tetlak stands in the middle like usual, gesturing his three-daggered staff in the air, demanding that we move quicker.

Reid slips his hand in mine, leading us up to Sampson's room on the fifth floor. There are eleven of us in here: Reid, Tucker, Able, Chief, Jace, Kelly, Harrison, Rooney, Drenz, Sampson and me. It's an insanely tight squeeze and just when I'm about to ask about the others, Sampson beats me to it.

"Vix and the others will meet us upstairs with her part of the Clan," he motions to his door. "We'll have to take separate evibolas because we're too many." Sampson looks to Reid. "How are the rest of the Rogues? Ready?"

"Downstairs and waiting."

"How many are we all together?" I ask.

Sampson does a quick count. "Thirty-six. Against about thirty-three Dofinikes and that _includes_ the guards. Drenz, Rooney," he turns to them, "keep as many babeebs as you can over your heads."

"Yes sir!" Rooney salutes, pulling some from the ceiling as Drenz, behind him, rolls his eyes. Only a second goes by before Drenz collects with the same eagerness and in the end they each have around eight yellowy golden balls of light hovering over their heads.

"Whatever you do, don't lose them. Now," Sampson faces the rest of the group, "I need to be prepared for whatever happens. To do this, I must take my true form so once we get downstairs, I'll be changing. Just want to prepare you."

"And upstairs?" I ask.

"We'll meet Vix and the others and then Jothkore, if everything goes right."

I nod.

"Just have to wait for the Portcullis to close and we'll leave," Sampson says.

I glance around the huddle of Rogue Commanders. There is no turning back now. Once Sampson gives us the go ahead, we'll be heading upstairs to confront the Vermix. We'll have thirty minutes before the bell to start Reminders and then, Leisure Time will ring. We'll have to do it fast.

A loud thundering thump of metal from outside and Sampson gestures to us. "Let's go."

We file out of his room, making our way for the empty Courtyard downstairs where about ten Rogues meet us. They exchange quick words with Reid and Tucker as Sampson heads for the door I haven't really noticed since Jeb took me through it the first day.

Approaching the deeply-blue fogged arch, Sampson straightens his posture. He turns to us just as his body expands, his legs and arms elongating and consuming a greenish hue that soon spreads throughout his form. His torso tightens, darkens and hardens as whiskers sprout from his chin, falling in waves like a thick beard. The robin's egg blue of his eyes are last to change, slipping to a golden yellow but keeping the same inquisitive shape and sense of depth I've come to not only trust, but rely on.

"Quickly, please," Sampson motions us to follow.

He heads through the starlit arch, Reid next, then me, then the others with Tucker bringing around the tail. Once we're all in, the evibola jerks momentarily before resuming its standard silence. It takes about ten seconds for us to arrive and when we do, Sampson cautiously steps outside, his arm flying into the air and signaling with one talon to wait. He peers around and, after deeming it safe, chances a further step, fully into the shadowed corridor.

He pauses.

Finally motioning us out of the evibola, he signals us to follow, moving right. We slip out silently, into the same darkened corridor lined with Gizella trees and babeebs. But there aren't nearly as many. There are probably five of the silver snake-like trees that dot the length of the hall where downstairs, in the human quarters, there'd be ten. And same with the doors. The cobalt blue arches aren't nearly as close together as ours. More distance between the arches means more space inside the room. These are definitely someone's quarters. But whose?

I'm three paces behind Reid, with Chief and Jace on my heels and Able at my side. My heart thumps wildly, like a drum sequence on repeat. But that just means we've made it this far. We're here, higher in the Castle than we've ever been and not stopping yet.

Another Dofinike jets out and for a second, I think it's about to begin. But Sampson greets the newcomer with a nod, just as Pratt, Clark, Griffin and the other half of the Rogues shuffle out behind them. The groups acknowledge one another silently, each taking to opposite sides of the wall as we file along, scaling it against our backs. Tucker is in front of me and Reid is in front of him. I glance across the way and lock eyes with Pratt who follows along behind Clark.

We're almost there.

Sampson and Vix slow. He dashes to her side, keeping to the right until stopping at a cobalt arch ahead. Sampson taps his talons against it and it opens a second later. He leads the way in, then Vix, then the rest of us.

The room is similar to ours with the dark marble walls and floor. It's at least ten times larger, stretching out into different compartments blocked off by wall separators. A few colorful tapestries line the space but there's very little furniture. Filtering through the bodies, I step in front of Chief to take in the scene where everyone has stopped.

Jothkore, in his human form, paces with a wide grin on his face as he sees us approaching. An oversized eggplant rug coats the marble floor between us and on it, bonded together with thick brown twine, lay two Dofinikes snarling through their restraints, one with a nasty scar down his face. Lying on their sides with their backs pressed together, both have their snouts wrapped.

Once we're all in and the door is shut again, Jothkore takes a step forward, his eyes on Sampson.

"It is done, Fychu," he lowers his head.

"And the defenses?"

"Top floor, across from the labs," Jothkore looks up apologetically. "...I regret to inform you that only Beshib and the high guard can open it."

Sampson cups his chin, "Well, we were planning on capturing him anyway," he huffs in frustration, gesturing to us. "I was hoping to secure some defenses first."

"We have ours," Reid retrieves two blades secured up his forearm. As he does this, the rest of the Rogues follow suit, extracting their own pieces. Pratt, Clark, Griffin and I glance around at the sudden exposition of weapons ranging from small blades to brass knuckles, all made from molded and heated gibb, compliments of the Carpenters.

Reid tucks his blades away and the rest do the same.

"The threat lies with the guards. Now," Sampson exhales, "most have gone with Beshib so there will only be a handful of guards, mostly Yerza and Norpe and the like. Once we're able to overpower them, the scientists will be fairly simple to deal with, I expect."

"They've been trained to the standard Vermix requirements," Jothkore reminds.

"Very good," Sampson glances down at the two bonded Dofinikes on the floor, "I'm sorry to have to keep you in this condition but you understand we can't take any chances."

The one on the left struggles, sounds emitting but under the snout restraints, it all comes out a muffle. He tries to get up but is tied to the other one, has too much trouble and after a few heated twists, gives up with a breathless heave.

"Sir," Jothkore turns to Sampson, "shall we take them?"

Again, the one on the left struggles, rolling about, demanding to be heard. Finally, Sampson nods and Jothkore bends down, removing the mouth restraint. As soon as it's off, words erupt in their language, a set of long vowels that rings a hint of familiarity.

Sampson shakes his head, disappointed. "Don't be rude, Jeb."

The struggling Dofinike looks around us, his eyes catching mine before focusing on Sampson again. In clear, enunciated English, he pleads, "It'd be unwise to pursue this. You don't understand the importance of..."

"No, best not to try and sway me on this one."

"Sampson..." Jeb pleads and Jothkore offers a swift kick to his back, "F-Fychu Sampson."

"Oh—no need for that, Jothkore, titles are irrelevant when it comes to life and death."

"You n-need to abort this," Jeb stammers, glancing between Sampson and Jothkore with fear in his eyes, "now, while you still can. The others don't know yet. If you hurry..."

"Yes, I was hoping they would. We're on a limited time frame here," Sampson frowns. "The Castle will be gathering in the Auditorium shortly so we'd like to be there to greet them."

"Fychu!" Jeb cries. "It's wrong. You must see this. We are so _close_."

"... To stumbling upon abomination? Yes, I've seen," Sampson looks between Jothkore and Vix, "Bring them. Beshib might've kept a failsafe. Back to the evibolas," he motions to the rest of us.

We file back out into the corridor, Jothkore and Vix pulling the guide and scientist behind them. With Jeb's snout restraints repaired, he's muffling sounds again. He's pleading with us to stop, his wide yellow eyes darting over everyone, searching for someone he can sway.

"Top floor," Sampson nods to Vix before the group splits again, the new additions going with her.

All huddling into our evibola again, we ride it for another five seconds, Sampson leading us out into the corridor I saw on my first day here. We make our way down the hall, moving quickly, quietly. The space on the other side of the glass wall lies empty, as do the metal beds. The scientists must be in a different part of the lab because the further along we move, the longer the emptiness stretches.

Finally, we meet the hall's end where a massive black arch greets us. Everyone comes to a halt as Sampson gestures Jeb closer. Jothkore, now in his true form, holds him out and up for Sampson, removing the restraint from his snout.

"Open it." Sampson keeps his words calm.

"Fychu..." Jeb pleads.

"Open it _now_."

"Fychu," Jeb gulps, "if only you could understand..." but his words are cut off. Jothkore has his throat gripped, pinching as Jeb hisses out, "I can't. I can't," he chokes, "only Tetlak. Only Tetlak."

"Call him."

"They're on their way," Jeb gulps, just as Jothkore frees him, "they know I'm here. When Jothkore didn't return..."

"Good," Sampson interrupts him, "how many shall we be expecting? You know what—don't tell me, I'd rather be surprised."

"Fychu," Jeb tries once more, "it is a _mistake_. Talk to your father..."

But at this, Sampson nods to Jothkore who retrieves Jeb, reapplying his snout restraint. With Vix's help, they lower the two Vermix to the ground in the corner. Sampson gestures everyone behind him.

"You'll want to stay back there for this. Drenz, Rooney, if you don't mind keeping yourselves close by," he indicates for them to stand on either side of him. The Carpenters follow his order, both still carrying eight babeebs over their heads and glowing like lanterns. Reid pulls me behind Sampson, but end up on Able's right side, peering just over Pratt's shoulder at the unfolding scene.

Sampson stands dead center while Jothkore and Vix keep to either side, behind the Carpenters.

"Time check?"

"Fourteen minutes until Reminders," Vix looks to Sampson.

"Then we're right on track," he glances over his shoulder to the rest of us with a silly grin, "I hope they're not late."

A long, silent moment goes by before the Dofinikes step off their evibolas and into the opposite end of the corridor. There are two at first. Then four, then six and suddenly, a giant queasy pit grows in my stomach. _Can_ we do this? Even as ready as we are, are we strong enough for _this_? I hold my breath as the eight of them stop, glaring at us through yellow slits of fury.

The first two race toward Sampson, dropping to all fours in a full-on run. Sampson, calm as ever, holds his pose until they are mere feet away. Just when the first one claws at him, Sampson effortlessly scoops two babeebs from Rooney's head, tossing the golden spheres in each of the Vermix's faces. It all happens so quickly that I almost don't see the babeebs wake up. I nearly miss their eyes opening all over their bodies with stinger-like teeth emerging between. The babeebs land on the Vermix who screech and scream at the contact.

Both guards fall to their knees, grasping their faces and yelping in pain as they try to pry the carnivorous babeebs off. The rest of the guards—all six—rush down the hall but Sampson only repositions himself. With quick, casual movements, he scoops more babeebs from the Carpenters, launching them through the hall to each impending Vermix. One by one they go down, tumbling to the ground and grabbing the babeeb latched to them. They try peeling it from their skin but it only buries itself further, eating its way through their bodies. All of them start hissing, two trying to rise but quickly fall again, diving into a new terror of pain after Sampson releases a few more in their direction.

Before a sigh of relief is let out, three more Dofinikes emerge, down on the other side of the yelping Vermix. The trio looks around, aghast at the scene, all three pairs of yellow eyes flashing to us with unknown rage.

I've seen them before—in that trio.

The tallest remains back, surveying the number of guards still peeling the insatiable mini suns from their bodies. He allows the other two to advance slowly toward us, climbing over the screaming bodies of their fallen brethren.

Rooney and Drenz only have one babeeb each but to everyone's surprise, Sampson doesn't go for them. He doesn't make any moves other than inching up slowly, peacefully, as if intending to meet them half way. But just as they come within feet of each other, Sampson slows to a stop, pausing.

Yerza and Norpe fly forward, withdrawing their staffs and aiming at Sampson as they charge him. But he doesn't move. Not even a flinch.

Until he deflects their strikes. Delivering block after block, Sampson knocks Yerza and Norpe unbalanced. Disarming them in a lightning-fast series of movements, he slips his leg out, sweeping the floor in a complete circle. Both Vermix jump over, but not in time to dodge the roundhouse kick to their heads, Sampson sending them flying. They crash back into the marble and barely start to rise when Sampson delivers the final blows, leaving them twitching. He backs up in a straight line, returning to his peaceful stance.

Tetlak starts forward with slow strides. Through narrowed, yellow eyes, he watches as Jothkore and Vix seize Yerza and Norpe, dragging them back behind us. With a low growl, Tetlak extends his arms, running his talons along the walls. The shrill sound increases with each taunting step but even as my heart races with the promise of certain death, Sampson remains still. Head lowered, he doesn't bother offering him a glance.

Tetlak pounces forward, intending to crash into Sampson who leaps to the right, scaling the wall to the ceiling. Following in quick pursuit, Tetlak races after him, hissing as Sampson's legs fly free and kick him back to the floor. He lands with a thunderous smack and Sampson meets Tetlak on the ground, the two leaping at each other. Or, at least, that's what I expect. They start off diving at one another but after a few seconds—and movements I don't really catch—Sampson is standing over a hissing Tetlak, who lies on the floor.

"Come now, lad, surely they trained you better?"

Tetlak replies in the same language I've heard several times before. He's cursing by the sound of it, spitting out long raging vowels. Already shaking his head, he hisses up with yellow, searing slits.

"You will. You will and you are," Sampson confirms, glancing up, "right now, in fact."

Vix and Jothkore move out to collect Tetlak, each taking an arm. The Rogues part ways as they drag the head guard through us and toward the giant black arch in the wall. In the back corner with Jeb and Ergiloff, the rest of the guards lay bound by wrist, ankle and snout, all together in one massive heap. They watch in horror, squirming and struggling, attempting to pry at the brown coils wrapped around them. It's all in vain. Only able to move the exposed parts of their bodies, it's like they're paralyzed beneath restraints made of steel, helpless to watch.

"Ready when you are, son," Sampson has Tetlak brought to his feet.

"It will bring you nothing but death," he hisses.

"No, it will bring _you_ nothing but death... if you don't open it for us."

"And why would you want to?" he sneers, narrowing his scowling yellow eyes on him. "A Fychu like you? You do not believe in..."

"I believe in preparing for the worst..." Sampson tilts his head, startled slightly at the revelation, "or haven't you figured that out yet?"

"Beshib will know what has transpired here," Tetlak shakes his head furiously as Jothkore slams him against the door. "He will know of..."

"Open it and be done," Sampson is growing impatient now. "I know you know a thing or two about orders."

With a fierce growl, Tetlak lowers his head hissing and swearing in his own language. For a second it looks like he's going to do it, do whatever he needs to get that door open. But just as his head rises, so does the volume of his words, cursing and hissing. He shakes his head, spitting just before Sampson withdraws, nodding at Vix and Jothkore. They grasp Tetlak and, dragging him back over to the pile of bonded guards, swap him for Jeb. Jothkore cuts the brown coil free, but reties Ergiloff's restraints as Vix leads the Guide toward the black arch.

"I'm growing tired, short on time and therefore, irritated. I will _not_ repeat myself so listen carefully," Sampson inhales, "is there a failsafe?"

Jeb nods ever so slightly, as if hoping the others might not see him answer.

"Good," Sampson goes on, "and is it you?"

Again, Jeb glances at the others, then back to Sampson and offers him the slightest indication that he's correct.

"Good," he nods, motioning to the black arch behind him. "Open it."

"Fychu..." Jeb starts.

"I don't have time for this. I'd really rather _not_ break you apart piece by piece until you talk."

"Yes..." Jeb sobs, " _alright_..."he raises his hand high, scraping his talons down the door, writing something into it. Suddenly a loud thud clicks and the black arch splits down the center, opening back into the room behind it.

Scooping the babeeb from Rooney's head into her palm, Vix holds out her arm, lighting her way into the darkness. I follow Reid and the others into the vast room that could double the size of Jeb's. Vix lifts her babeeb higher, Drenz doing the same, everyone inhaling at once.

The walls are high and black and covered from ceiling to floor with all sorts of strange objects. Some are large and rounded, like shields or disks and others, small and skinny, bursting with pointed edges.

"AK's," someone mutters, rushing forward, Drenz following after. "Yes!"

The light splits between Vix and Drenz, the Rogues watching with keen interest as someone hollers again. "That's what I'm talking about!"

Nearly the entire Clan takes off, Vix keeping up with the second babeeb, Rooney on her left. Once she reaches the wall, she plops the babeeb back over his head, Drenz and Simon gazing in excitement at the rifles behind her. She turns and starts removing rifles from the wall one by one, handing them to Reid. "Pass these out."

With each rifle he takes, he hands it off to Tucker who then passes them to each Rogue Commander. Once all Rogues are supplied, Reid motions the rest of us closer. He hands a gun to Griffin first, then Clark, Pratt and finally me. Hesitating as he passes the rifle over, Reid inhales, watching as I fumble with the foreign object, unsure how to hold it. Have I ever done this before?

"For those of you who _don't_ know," Reid draws back, commanding attention with his powerful voice. He holds his gun up high, "This is an AK-47, the most reliable firearm available. This is how you use it," Reid does a quick demonstration. "Pointer finger here, rest the butt against your shoulder here. Aim," he looks through it. "Fire."

I throw a quick glance to Pratt who's attempting to replicate the demonstration. It takes her a moment to position the butt correctly but once she gets it, she's good. Clark also has a little trouble figuring it out but after Reid sets it up for him, he's fine. Reid comes for me.

"Need help?"

"No," I arm myself quickly, pointing to a fake target in the empty corner across. "I think I got it."

"Right," he rolls his eyes. "Just hand it over before you kill us all."

"Give me a minute to get comfortable with it," I mimic the actions around me, how the other Rogues seem at comfort practicing on a fake target.

"We don't have a minute. Come here," he wraps his arms around me, repositioning the gun in my hands. "Like this. Butt goes here," he pushes it back into me, just below my shoulder. "Feel it? There," he does it again before pointing to the various parts of the weapon, "... is the safety. Trigger. Aim. Always be aiming. Not shooting— _aiming_. Remember you're holding it and in control."

"Got it."

"Try not to kill us," he departs with a slight eye roll, moving through the Rogues who all seem to know what they're doing. With the exception of me, Pratt and Clark, everyone else seems incredibly comfortable.

"Vix," Sampson calls, a cluster of babeebs over his head, "have you found it?"

The room grows lighter as he nears. He finds Vix by the adjacent wall which is not covered in guns like ours, but, instead, with tiny devices of all different shapes and sizes. Retrieving an object from high up, Vix pulls the prize down to examine it closer.

"Yes," she whispers, blowing off the dust, "and it's fully charged." Glancing at the wall, she pulls three more yellow tubes from their pockets, cupping them beneath her belt. Turning, she shows Sampson, "Here."

Nodding in approval, he motions behind him and Vix takes off, back out to the corridor. Sampson turns to the rest of us, "That should be the rest of the guards. All that's left are the scientists but don't be fooled—they are _well_ trained in combat. We're running short on time so we'll have to be quick about this. Jothkore, Vix and I will assume lead and then Rogue Commanders for support and that's _only_ if it's necessary. I'd rather not involve the Rogues unless it's on a need-be basis..."

Drenz and Rooney sigh simultaneously, a few others scowling in disappointment at their missed opportunity.

"There's plenty of time for war. But let's keep _this_ quick. Clean," Sampson eyes everyone in the room, "we're on a schedule."

"Yes, Fychu..." Jothkore lowers his head just as Vix returns, offering a private nod at Sampson. "Alright," he motions back out. "Let's get to the labs."

We all dash from the room, racing down the black hallway. Gripping the rifle, I replay Reid's teachings over in my head, visualizing. How to hold it. _Where_ to hold it. My heart pounds a thousand beats per second but there's no time to pay it any attention.

Just don't drop the gun. Hold it close to you and pray it doesn't go off accidentally.

The sound of our feet stampeding down the corridor awakens me to the task at hand, especially as Jothkore gestures ahead.

"There," he points. "There they are!"

#  Chapter Twenty-Six: Reminders

Our group slows to an approach as it comes into view—

Behind the glass wall, motionless bodies lie atop the metal beds, a team of Dofinikes in custard coats passing between them, odd instruments in their hands. They stop at different beds, examining every patient.

I focus on the closest occupied bed.

A girl with long brown hair, nearly the same length as mine, lies asleep—or is it unconscious?—her belly a swollen mass, as if someone cut it open and slipped in a bowling ball. Suddenly her body starts to twitch, drawing the attention of the nearest scientist. Approaching, he scans the change and extracts a long, thin instrument, rounded like a half-moon and places it over her belly. Two pincers emerge, pushing into her flesh to create a streaming waterfall of red.

I go to cover my mouth but feel the weight in my hands. I can't look away anyway. My eyes dart around and it's all I see. The bodies—they're all girls on the beds, each with a different-sized stomach, all swollen to some degree. My mind races, the pieces all flying together, clicking into the obvious answer I never saw.

How did I not see this?

The orgy of Leisure Time they provide for us, the pressure to mate, the long lists of females called...

That's what it was with Hinson. That was the thing I couldn't remember, a comment stored too deep to retrieve.

_She's been throwing up every morning_...

I was too concerned with following Ergiloff into the Castle to think about it then. She was pregnant. They _all_ were. It's finally clear why certain people were called and I, who Tetlak most certainly did not like, never was. I wasn't ready to be called yet.

"Sampson..." it comes out a whisper, my heart drumming heavily in my chest.

"Alright..." he glances to Vix and Jothkore. " _Now_."

The three fly to the other side, the closest scientists immediately dropping their instruments and scattering on hands and feet. They knock past the others but Sampson races down the center aisle between two long rows of bodies, Vix and Jothkore at his side.

The scientists scurry up the walls, their custard coats flapping as they jet across the ceiling, toward us. Reid and the other Rogue Commanders form a steady line, guns aimed and ready.

Vix is on the ceiling behind the eight fleeing scientists, dropping the last two down by their legs. Sampson grapples with them for a second, knocking both down with swift, simple blows. Whacking another two from the ceiling, Vix continues for the first four but they drop to the ground of their own accord, catching Harrison and Able in the tumble.

Everything happens at the same time.

Jothkore finds himself at the far end of the never ending room, surrounded by the newest arrival of scientists while Sampson's making his way down to help, leaving the first four disarmed and immobilized on the floor. Vix battles three but doesn't have the same combative strength as Sampson. Surrounded, she takes a few blows before Reid joins the quarrel and Chief takes on the remaining scientist alone. Tucker helps Able and Harrison, the three turning to assist Chief who's been slammed against the wall. The scientist turns to the other Rogues, Able reaching for his gun, which is quickly knocked out of his hand before he's thrown back to the opposite wall.

Waves of yellow coats rush in behind Sampson and Jothkore, Reid finally plugging each nearby scientist with two bullets. They drop to the ground as the rest of the Rogues enter the room, which overflows with the custard color. As they enter, one by one, the scientists fall but Reid holds up his arm as a bullet grazes Vix. Holding their fire, the rest of the Rogues halt as Griffin, Clark, Pratt and I push our way in.

It's a storm.

Custard coats crawling on the ceiling, Dofinike on Dofinike duals down the rows and up the walls, all while motionless girls lay undisturbed in the middle, pins and pieces prodding their round bellies. Racing into the room, I jet to the closest occupied bed, dodging the flying limbs thrusting into one another.

Ducking beneath the swinging leg of a custard coat, I find myself at the bedside of the girl. Her eyes are open but glazed over, _gone_ and her body lies limp, except for the bit of twitching coming from her swollen stomach.

Tears threaten but I do everything in my power to stop them. I will not cry. Whipped back to the wall, the impact slams me awake. Falling to my knees, it takes me a second to catch my breath but when I do, everything changes.

_Focuses_.

And slows...

My gun is in my hands, poised just as a scientist flies past me, set to dive into Pratt. I find the center of his head—his temple—and pull my finger. The Dofinike drops to the ground in a thud at Pratt's feet. Something's coming from my side. Shifting, I find the center of a pair of glaring eyes, set to destroy me. Pulling the trigger again and then again, down in the center of his chest, the scientist falls in a motionless heap. One tries to grab me from the wall above but before I even find the center of his eyes, Sampson yanks him to the ground, immobilizing him.

Heart racing, I glance around.

Most of the Rogues take the scientists down with hand-to-hand combat and their personal weapons. The guns have been knocked from their hands or maybe they're already out of ammo. Another movement to my right. Before the scientist has a chance to knock me back, his yellow eyes come into view. Focusing on the patch of scales between them, I release the trigger. He falls at my feet but then, another one is trying to pull the girl from the table.

"Get away from her!" I scream at the top of my lungs.

A scientist dives past Reid, jumps over Able and soars to knock me down. Again, slow motion takes over. It's like time is stilling before me, playing out in loud, sluggish seconds so I can _see_ better, _hear_ better. Everything comes to me with clarity and total consciousness, so that I always know what to do seconds before I do it.

Just as the custard coat flies for me, I dive to the side, allowing him to land in my previous spot. Already anticipating his location, I unload bullets into his head until he falls, quickly sweeping my view back to the girl on the table.

"Away!" I scream, moving through the beds around her, aimed and ready.

Something's shifted.

In me.

I'm the last person here expected to even fire their gun and now, I won't part with it. I _can't_. All I want to do is tear down this lab. Tear it to pieces. Something has exploded inside me, something ignited by the sight of all the girls in here. All the various stages of possible life destroyed. Keeping the bile from overflowing at the thought of such waste, I move forward, past the few remaining duels, searching. There's got to be at least one.

At least _one_.

"Any still alive?" I lower my gun, only to dart in and out of the tables.

Scanning each set of eyes, hope dwindles. They're all the same—open but glazed over, cloudy. Gone. Biting back the urge to kill as many Vermix as I can, I keep going, keep searching. At least one. There's got to be at least _one_. I'm not sure how many beds I've passed but other than the different lengths into their pregnancies, they're all in the same exact state.

"Fallon!" Reid calls.

The sound of my name forces me to look up. When I do, I find Sampson and Jothkore standing ahead, amongst a pile of fallen scientists. The Vermix moan on the ground where they lay injured. A few yelp while the quieter ones try to pull themselves away unnoticed. Jothkore's quick to trash that thought, dragging them back to the center with the others.

"Are you okay?" Reid joins my side, cupping the back of my head and shifting me toward him.

"Fine."

"We secure?" he gestures to Jothkore who's dragging a fleeing scientist back to their heap of custard coats.

Sampson nods. "And your end?"

" _Tying_ things up as we speak. But we need to get moving."

"What's the time check?" I ask.

"Three minutes," Sampson exhales, glancing back to the rest of the Rogues still working on binding the remaining scientists. Once they're locked back to back—like they did with Jeb and Ergiloff—the Clansmen drag the pairs out, tossing them in the same sleeping pile of Vermix in the corner with Tetlak and the others. "We'll need a few to stay, watch over," he's talking to Reid now, "I'm not familiar with the dosage so the time may be off."

"How many? And who?"

"Three or four," Sampson shrugs, "maybe Moss and Cramp. Werzo... Booker."

"And yours?" Reid gestures to Sampson's loot. "Vix fixing them?"

No sooner does he ask than Vix slides past, the same small device she'd pulled off the wall from inside the weapons room. We all watch as she goes to each bound scientist and presses the cylinder part of the object to his or her throat. They squirm for a second, fighting the injection. After a few futile attempts at ripping through their restraints, they pause, slumping over in exhausted sleep.

"What is that?" I ask.

"It's Pillypees," Reid answers first, "sleep potion. Knocks you out. Two minutes," he looks to Sampson. "Anyone else staying here?"

"I think the four should do it. Have Irie check in from time to time and we'll be fine."

Reid nods, jetting back to his Rogues and we're on his heels. Once we reach them, Reid pauses to take count of his Clansmen.

"Everyone still breathing?"

"Yeah Boss..." most exhale through heated breaths.

"Yeah Rox," someone pants.

"You got it Boss," someone else gulps, wiping his arm over his brow.

"Good," Reid looks around his Clan, "Moss, Cramp, Werzo, Booker—you're skipping all the drama downstairs. Need you to stay here, keep an eye on things so I don't have to worry. I'll send Irie to check in but I'm putting my trust in you," he narrows his eyes. "Booker, can I count on you?"

An ebony skinned mountain with arms the size of tree trunks steps forward, answering for his team. "Yes, Rox, you can count on us."

Reid nods at the four of them. "Good. Alright," he strengthens the volume and command of his voice, "this is it. Time to go. We'll be heading down in two evibolas. When we hit the Auditorium, surround it. I want everyone in a tight circle around the trunk. I want them in a good spot to hear Sampson. Rogues?"

"Rox!" they roar in unison.

"Let's MOVE!" he commands, the lot of us sprinting from the labs and back for the evibolas. We're running down the hall, leaving the four Rogues behind with the sleeping Vermix as we make our way to the arches that'll take us back downstairs. Reaching them, we split into even groups.

I get in behind Reid, Tucker, Able and his entire division, Rooney and Drenz following behind. Sampson's on last and suddenly we're riding it down to the Auditorium. My heart races. What if they don't believe us? We have no idea where the memories are and haven't even started looking. Can we force everyone to listen to us, or it just a transfer of oppression?

There's no time to consider the what-ifs. It's happening regardless so the power is in the present. We'll get through this. Once they believe us, once we tell them what we know, and that for the moment, the Castle's been freed, they'll want to fight back. They'll _have_ to. Especially if they know what the Vermix have been doing to us.

Just as I feel the evibola's moving hum shift to stop, the drumming in my chest intensifies.

"Here we go..." Able inhales.

We step into the darkened room, a thicket of bodies moving around the trunk, waiting for Reminders to begin. The Rogues spread out, flattening themselves along the shadowed walls, keeping their rifles hidden by their sides. Following behind Rooney, I keep my head down, the gun low on my right hip. None of the others—outside our group—cling to the walls right now. They know what time it is, that Jeb will request them to move closer like he does every night.

Glancing up, I search for the other Rogues, Jothkore and Vix but I can't find them. Are they in place already? And where is Sampson? When will he take the stage and explain the situation? Before I have time to wonder, a scream breaks through the room, shattering the low hum of shallow commotion. Another scream echoes, everyone stilling to an eerie halt.

A third scream and suddenly, the Rogues have their guns drawn, pointed and aimed among the thick mass, herding them back. Cries of panic erupt, a loud shuffle from the inner core, those closest to the trunk. They're too far in to know what's happening.

"DON'T MOVE! JUST DON'T MOVE!" Rooney barks at a massive Arrival who moves closer to investigate. But with the Carpenter's threatening warning and the black rifle in his face, the Arrival stumbles backward, into the patch of bodies screaming in terror behind him. "DON'T MOVE!"

At the same time, all the Rogues inch forward, weapons drawn and aimed. I'm not sure what to look at. What to focus on. The Rogues back here with me, holding the line, holding everyone in or the frightened herd ahead, fear in their eyes at their newest enemy—us.

"Just hang back and stay calm," Able offers as he shifts forward, slow step by slow step. His body shakes as he moves, a lump crawling down his throat. But he doesn't stop. The other Rogues follow, inching closer, tightening the massive herd into each other. Able exhales, keeping his voice strong, commanding. "We're not here to harm you."

Following in suit, I move closer, keeping aim on nothing, on no one in particular, just the thought that there's nothing more to fire at. Putting the rifle safety back on the rifle, I glance at the glowing trunk in the midst of bodies ahead. As soon as my eyes drift to it, Sampson leaps up, back in his human form, a hoard of babeebs over him. With so many, it's like a small sun glows atop his head, illuminating the spotlight he needs.

"We ask for your patience, please and your cooperation," Sampson's smooth words cut through the panic. Everyone turns inward, away from the ring of weapons surrounding them and to the man with a velvety reassurance. When he sees he has the room's attention, he offers the slightest smile, a peace offering before the words. "Those armed are not here to hurt you. They are here to _help_ you."

With this, a little more tension is released. The room still stands rigid but with each soothing word from the mediator, the fear abates and is replaced instead with comfort. The comfort they need right now.

" _I_ want to help you," Sampson goes on, grasping at their need for him to save them, "but you must listen and you must listen well. Make no mistake, what I'm about to share with you _is_ the truth. Something I, along with everyone armed here, risked their life to have you know." Sampson takes a breath, surveying the silent mass staring at him in stunned awe. "There was no war."

His four words echo throughout the Auditorium, their shadows lingering into soft layers that eventually die off. But for a few seconds, that's all I can hear—all anyone can hear—repeating over and over.

There was no war.

It's like he's unlocked it. Whatever it is that's needed to be unlocked, the freedom of saying what we all knew to be the truth. Thought over and over again, yes, but never uttered aloud. And definitely not here, in the middle of the entire Castle with everyone listening. With Sampson's admittance, it's like there's been a shift, like everyone's fear of having to deny the obvious rises, leaving them free to consider the alternative—were we brought here against our will?

"Not true!" someone suddenly yells, rattling the newfound ease.

"He's lying!" another voice pops up from the opposite side of the trunk. Sampson glances about, locating the hecklers.

"I do _not_ lie and it'd be wise of you to hold your tongue."

"Where's Jeb?" another voice calls out. "What have you done with him?"

"Please," Sampson lowers his hands palms down, requesting silence. "I'm trying to help you. You have no idea—"

"He killed Jeb!" someone yells across the way, stirring the panic again. "He's going to kill _us_!"

I glance to Reid who's already nodding down the line of Rogues. They need this taken care of now. Nipped in the butt as soon as possible, but it's coming from multiple people. These are either the newest Arrivals or the ones who've just lost it. Who are too scared to admit to anything that might rob them of their security.

"I repeat, we are here to _help_ you," Sampson's voice, though calm, grows slightly tenser.

"Why the guns?" a new voice pops through the crowd.

Geez—how many are there?

Before I know what I'm doing, I lower my rifle to my right side and, in a tone of disdain, yell at the top of my lungs, "Are you all _stupid_? Can't you see what's happening? Right in front of you?"

The focus suddenly shifts to me, Rooney and Able who stiffen at the new sea of eyes pouring into us. Someone goes to grab my elbow, whispering my name to stop.

But I don't.

"Sampson is here to free you from the Vermix. You know Beshib... Tetlak... those itching to get us upstairs so they can 'cure' us? They're _killing_ us," I strain my voice for all to hear, "'infected' by 'infected'. List by list. We're not coming back down but you don't know that because of the pills. Because they erase everyone you knew on the list. And if you don't wake up _now_ , it'll happen to you too."

"Fallon," Sampson's smooth voice calls for me, his hand extended, "why don't you join me up here? It was you, after all, who found the lost."

A loud curse and I glance to Reid on my left. He's exhaling tightly, definitely not happy about this. This is _not_ how he saw it playing out. Stepping toward the massive crowd, he races in front of me.

"Move!" Reid barks, his rifle set and aimed, moving from target to target as a path clears for us. He doesn't need to say anything else—people scatter as quickly as possible, rounding off to the side to make room for us, but Reid still keeps his rifle at the ready, his focus never wavering. Able, Tucker, Jace and Chief move right behind me, their guns aimed, protecting our bubble of space.

Glancing behind me, the Rogues retighten the line with five less Clansmen as we shift our way to the center of the knot, toward Sampson atop the great iridescent trunk. My heart, only beating before, now threatens to rip through my chest, leaping out and into the sea of people around me.

When we reach the center, Sampson's hand dips down. I merely rest my palm on his and in one quick, effortless motion, he pulls me atop the trunk with him. All focus is _really_ set on me now, my heart skipping as I survey the amount of eyes digging into me, wondering what information I have for them.

Sampson lowers his head, indicating that I have the floor. A hopeless whisper of _I can't do this, I can't do this, I can't do this_ , threatens to stop me but I push on, lead by the other part, the stronger part that reminds me they need to know. All four hundred of them. If this is going to work—any of it—it's with them on our side. It's with an army.

"I went out beyond the jungle. I was looking for something, but not what I found. What I found was worse. _Terrible_. Something most of you won't believe... and why would you? I saw it and I _still_ don't believe it," I take another deep breath, glancing from face to face, wondering what they must be thinking, wondering if to them, _I'm_ the insane one.

"But you deserve to know the truth. The pills? They're not protecting you from berry juice poison," I shake my head, "there _is_ no outbreak. They're giving you pills to wash your memory of people, people..." I inhale deeply, "they're experimenting on. People... I found out in the woods."

Gasps and whispers erupt, buzzing through the crowd, igniting it with panicked life again. The Rogues instinctively raise their weapons, scanning for signs of a threat. Have I said too much? The wrong thing? How can it be wrong if it's the truth?

"That's why we are _here_ ," I say, "to expose the truth and if you want it, a chance to fight for your freedom."

"You're lying!" one of the newest Arrivals—a boy in his late teens— jumps up, every eye and gun immediately redirected at him. "Where's your proof?"

As quickly as their attention was stolen, the audience is offered back to me, eager for an answer. How can I prove this without their memories? I could bluff but it doesn't feel right offering up their pasts if I don't have them yet. It would be like jinxing ourselves.

"We can arrange trips out there, if that's what it takes."

"Right!" he scoffs, the sound echoing off the walls. "Lead us all out there and kill us ten at a time?"

"We could... kill you now," I suggest, conviction ringing in my tone. "If you prefer?"

Everyone stills. Maybe they weren't expecting this. I scan the crowd, finding a flabbergasted Walker and just a few bodies over, a shaking Ansley holding herself in her arms. Are they scared of me now? Is that what I've created? Good. Maybe it's best for them. Maybe they should be afraid.

"But I don't want anyone else to die—seems like a waste. Too many have gone already. Like Sampson said, we're not here to harm you. We're here to _warn_ you."

"You see..." and Sampson takes the lead again, resuming his confession, "there was no war. Not the war Beshib has been telling you about, at least. Of course Earth has had her share of battles but in this case, it's not true. How do I know?" he stops, inhaling deeply, "because the war that this is _really_ about has nothing to do with you. It has to do with _my_ people... the Dofinikes."

Sampson's human form evolves back to his natural greenish-brown state, all towering eight feet of him. Gasps break through the silence, a quick rush of whispers sweeping the stunned crowd at the sight of the giant lizard man next to me. After a few seconds, he changes back to his human form, a collective wave of shock flowing through the crowd.

"I have lived among you in secret," he goes on, "a slave to my own kind. But I used to be free, a time, years ago, when this fortress wasn't used as an operations base, but as a _prison_ —makes sense with your bunker sizes, no? Humans and Dofinikes lived in peace together, here on Harrizel, out in the jungle beyond the gate. But it all changed," Sampson's voice hardens as he shakes his head, "when some Dofinikes—the Vermix—wanted you gone. It was a... massacre," he whispers, "leaving _almost_ everyone dead..." he trails off, lost in his own thoughts.

Despair seeps off him like a fragrance, a thick coat of mist surrounding him wherever he goes. How have I never noticed this before? The woeful story pouring from his ancient, heartbroken eyes.

What happened to you, Sampson?

"Vermix," he repeats, the heavy, hard word breaking the silence. He keeps his tone void of the emotion he's trying not to advertise. "Dofinikes who seek all human death. Reuzkimpart. Tetlak. _Beshib_. No matter what they've told you, no matter how sweet their lies may sound, it is the same for all of them—they're here to see your end. For them, a good human is a dead human."

More gasps spill from the room, panic rising again. The Rogues tighten their hold around the thicket of bodies surrounding our trunk. But Sampson wastes no time.

"As for _us_ ," he quiets the room with his velvety voice again, "Arizals don't believe in the unjust killing of any creature. But to be a Dofinike and Arizal is treacherous. Betrayal. So during the massacre all those years ago, when they broke apart our lives..." his voice saddens a tint, "the Vermix enslaved anyone who attempted to aid the humans, all Arizals— _us_.

"I was sentenced here, to live among you, as I'd done in my treachery. But _Clarence_..." he whispers his name, "...Clarence can never get away from it—the horrors of his past and what it meant to him personally. He must relive his original error as eternal punishment—taking humans from their normal, functional, everyday lives to live on Harrizel, for the use of the Dofinikes' will.

"There was no war," Sampson shakes his head again, repeating his essential message, "you were taken, _all_ of you, from your lives. A few of you were lucky. A few Clarence took because you had no other way out. He came upon you dying, or very nearly dead and offered this," Sampson gestures around, "as an _alternate_ life. But that's just a small few," he takes another breath, still ashamed to admit it. "Most of you were indeed abducted."

We have them.

The voice rings in my head, waking me to a frequency I wasn't aware existed. It's not the same voice from before, telling me to find Ellae, but a new one, female, both from inside me and out, like a low buzzing in my brain.

Suddenly Sampson pulls me close to him, his mouth at my ear.

"They've found the memories. I have to tend to something quickly so please tell them. I shouldn't be more than a few seconds." But before I have time to question, Sampson leaps off the trunk and over the crowd with ease. He disappears into the West Wall.

Everyone turns to me, expecting the next part or at least, an explanation for Sampson's abrupt departure.

"I understand if you don't believe me, believe _us_. Seems pretty far-fetched after hearing the same lie over and over. How can any other truth exist, right?" I start pacing. "Most of you seem smart, able to form your own opinions... We've told you our side, Beshib has told you his. Before we start asking you to choose," I stop, offering a shrug, "maybe you can make a more informed decision... with your real memories?"

In a room so silent a pin drop could be heard, whispers suddenly gush, a tidal wave breaking through a dam.

"They're here, on Harrizel. We've found them and we're willing to give them back to you. We _want_ to. But..." and now any fear of being up here has dissipated completely, this is the point of no return, when we either win this war or lose it. "We ask in return for finding them, for getting the truth and delivering it to you, here tonight, that you join us in taking back our lives. Our _freedom_. We can't do this alone. We _need_ your help. Now," I take a step back, gulping in a new breath of air, "who wants to know what really happened?"

#  Chapter Twenty-Seven: Memories

Every hand springs in the air.

Sampson is back on the trunk at my side, poised and calm as always, smiling out at the crowd.

"Very good. This is very good," he says. "A few points to address before we'll be able to distribute the memories," and now his voice grows less optimistic. The same despair has returned as he takes a heavy breath. It's not defeated, just concerned.

"Beshib will be out for nine more days, at which time he will return with _more_ Vermix. If we are overrun, there will be no—I repeat _no_ —chance of this ending in our favor. Currently, we have control of the Castle and we have to keep it that way. Tetlak, Norpe, Yerza, all the other guards and the scientists are contained but we still must act fast. Your memories will be returned and then groups can—if they choose—be lead out to view the lost, if further proof is required. We must use the remaining time to prepare for the Vermix return. If we succeed in this," Sampson inhales, the anticipation of his next statement hanging, "we'll be able to return you to your homes."

"To your _lives_ ," Clarence adds, suddenly on my other side.

I gasp, just like the rest of the room and nearly fall off the trunk at his appearance. He clutches my arm before I go over and Sampson, ever so gently, cups my arm below his, the two lowering me to the floor. Once the hard ground meets my feet, I stumble for a second but Reid keeps me steady.

"I'm so, so terribly sorry," Clarence shakes his head, "I'm so sorry to have brought you all here, to have done this to you but Sampson is right. If we win this thing, we'll be able to take you home," a hesitation, "... _most_ of you. If you are one of the majority, which, ninety-five percent of you are, there will be no issue in returning you home, to the exact moment I left with you. The other five percent, however," he clears his throat, "the ones I happened across in a most dire state—had you not returned with me, had I _left_ you, your death would have been imminent." He surveys the room with low-lidded eyes, "Your death _will_ be imminent. It's for this reason that we're unable to return you to that life. For you—this is the only one you have left." He waits a moment, turning to Sampson, "I thought a word of caution best before promises are made."

"I agree," Sampson nods. "First things first—your memories. Let's do this as quickly and orderly as possible." He glances down at us, at Reid. "Let's have them all move up to the Courtyard. File them down ten by ten."

Reid nods, weaving us back through the crowd and to the outside ring of Rogues still holding their place. He jumps to the nearest stairwell, leaping up a few steps.

"You heard him," Reid commands, "up to the Courtyard."

A rampant tidal wave of bodies move in his direction, but Reid holds his place, motioning everyone on as they funnel past. Still poised and searching for targets, the Rogues fall back just enough to allow passage of the herd. It moves along quickly, but it still takes a few minutes for the room to clear out. When it does, there are only a handful of us left, all the Rogues having already ascended to the Courtyard for security. Only the Rogue Commanders remain.

Reid is glancing between Sampson and Clarence. "Ten at a time?"

"We'll take five down and have the other five waiting here," Sampson shrugs, "best we can do."

Vix emerges into the Auditorium, trailing the first ten behind her. Stopping halfway into the room, she spins to the last five. "Stay here. You," she glances to the first half, "come with me."

They follow her directions, Vix motioning for Clarence to follow her as she heads for one of the evibolas on the opposite wall.

"I believe that's my cue," Clarence passes me, following Vix and the first five to the evibola. Sampson offers a departing nod as the others disappear.

I guess he'll be the one to administer the memories.

"Quite right," Sampson agrees as Reid, Tucker and the Rogue Commanders meander near the stairwell, losing themselves in discussion of how to keep the Courtyard secure. With a great sigh, Sampson speaks low, so only _I_ can hear.

"When Vix didn't locate the memories in the first place she'd looked, Clarence sent word as to their location. You see, I'd made mention of this base originally being utilized as a prison. That is both the truth and a lie. We created this base as a front for what we knew we'd one day need—an escape for the crimes we were committing. Going against the prophecy and living with humans, some even _mating_ with them—the Leaders would take it all away," Sampson drifts into a distant thought, lost in some sweet dream, "this little paradise we'd created, this island for runaways, for those not wanting to be found... We figured if we built the place we knew we'd be imprisoned, we could create escapes to get back to our loved ones," Sampson's eyes wane for a minute, lost in the same sadness.

"Clarence, however," his face lights up, "found special joy in creating hidden compartments here. Secret vaults, closets—places he wouldn't tell even _me_. I'd supposed Beshib, being proud, might display the memories in his quarters, a trophy to his life's work. But... maybe he isn't so proud after all. Maybe he _is_ a little scared. Why else would he hide your memories beneath this very floor, in a vault that's nearly undetectable?"

Instinctively I glance down, in furious awe of how close I've been to my past this whole time. My heart starts drumming when I think of how far I've had to journey to find the clues to lead me right back here.

"Clarence told Reuzkimpart of its whereabouts of course, when he returned from wherever he'd gone. Clarence _didn't_ tell him about any of the other passages or tunnels, just enough to keep Reuzkimpart happy—a secret."

Vix returns, ushering the other five into the evibola behind her. As they follow, Able, Jace and Harrison head upstairs and in a minute or so, return with ten more people for the next round. They stand huddled together, talking anxiously, excitedly. I find myself smiling at their excitement, thinking about my own past and what it might have in store.

"You should really get your memories _first_ ," Sampson says, as if adding to the conversation in my head, "after all you've done. You've earned it."

"What have I done?"

"You found the Lost. You rallied the others and helped plan our liberation."

"We _all_ did that."

"You have a greater hand in this than you realize. You really should be getting your memories first," he gestures to the three boys surrounding the line, "you and the Rogues."

"As long as I get them, I don't care." A moment goes by. "Sampson?"

"Hmm?"

I want to ask him. For some reason I don't fully understand, I have to know what happened all those years ago. His face saddens as if somehow anticipating the question. This stops me for a second but I press on, driven by the need to know.

"When you..."

"Sampson?" Vix calls, stepping off the evibola and motioning him toward her. "I need you a moment."

"Excuse me, Fallon," he excuses himself before heading over and after a second, disappears into the evibola with her.

Maybe it's best I don't know. Not right now. Maybe it's best to focus on my own memories, my own past—something I'll get before the night is over.

The next couple of hours pass the same way. Able, Jace and Harrison alternate with Kelly and Chief with heading upstairs every few minutes to secure ten more people. Five head down with Vix to the hidden cellar below while the second half wait in the auditorium until they're called. The Rogues remain upstairs in the Courtyard, keeping a hold on the massive crowd, which I've been told, grows more and more anxious as the time dwindles by. I haven't been up since earlier but Able keeps me updated every half hour.

Reid's been all over the place—down in the cellar with Clarence, up in the Courtyard for additional security and for a short time, up to the labs with Sampson to check on the Vermix. He's finally back in the Auditorium and by the looks of it, exhausted. His face drained, he heads to the West Wall where I've been leaning for the last twenty minutes.

"How's everything look?"

He rolls his eyes. "You'd _think_ they'd be grateful. All they want to know is when it'll be _their_ turn," he runs his hands down his face, leaving red streaks as he leans against the wall. Rolling his head toward mine, he offers a lethargic but sincere smile. "Hi."

"Hi," I grin, heat blooming at his close proximity, "doing alright?"

He nods. "You?"

I shrug, "...Just ready."

"Yeah," he laughs, "me too. It should be soon."

"How many more?"

"Fifteen or so."

"Not bad."

"It can't go by quick enough..." he exhales, running his fingers down his face again. "It been quiet down here?"

"About the same. You look like you're about to fall down dead."

"Feel like it."

"Have you seen anyone since...?"

He shakes his head. "They go back to their rooms. Want to be alone, I guess." He rolls his head closer so that his forehead touches mine. "You'll come to my room after?"

"Of course."

He smiles, rolling his head back into place and staring ahead.

Able, Jace and Harrison bring another ten down just in time for Vix to step off the evibola. She motions them forward but Able stops the sixth person.

"You'll be next. Five at a time."

A few grunts from the second half and Reid clears his throat. "See what I mean?"

"How long have they been here?"

"Them?" he narrows his eyes, " _specifically_? Uh..." he's quickly calculating. "Around a year for the first three. Last two a little longer."

"So they're probably a little impatient by now."

"Yeah," he laughs, rubbing his nose, "well so am I."

A thought settles on me. Turning, I look deep into Reid's eyes. "How long have _you_ been here?"

"Awhile."

"How long?" I press.

A hard sigh and then, "Three and a half years. Almost four."

In the back of my mind, I figured as much. He had to have time to be here, join the Kings, _leave_ the Kings, start the Rogues and then leave them. And somewhere, in the middle of all that, become an Arizal solider. It'd be shocking if he said anything less.

"So you must be dying to know."

"I was at first... kept thinking about all I was missing, all I couldn't remember. After a while," he shrugs again, "drove myself crazy and stopped."

"You let it go?"

"Not go," he shakes his head at the correction, "put it on pause. Wasn't doing any good trying to keep a life I no longer belonged to," he rolls his head, touching his forehead to mine again, "besides, I'm here now."

My stomach flutters, heating me to near melt-down. And the way he's looking at me... how am I still standing? My heart is a weight in my chest, my pulse thumping in pleasurable panic. How am I still breathing under that look? Those eyes...

Please let this last forever.

"Alright, next five," Tucker motions the lot to Vix as she appears on the open evibola. They follow while Able ascends the stairs to get the next ten.

The next fifteen come and go, Reid and I leaning against the wall, watching, waiting. Finally, when the last from the Courtyard have gone, including all Scouts and Pratt, the Rogues start. It takes another twenty minutes before the Rogue Commanders go and then Vix comes for us.

"You two ready?"

Reid looks to me, his gaze piercing. Slipping his hand in mine, he turns to Vix. "Yep."

Crossing the room, my heart pounds. Reid tightens his grip on me, our fingers threaded together as we walk through the archway and into the darkness behind Vix, just as we've watched everyone else do. The floor hums but fades away again, Vix already walking back out.

We're here.

She steps out off the evibola and we follow into a dimly lit space. Five babeebs light the whole room which is the same size of the Auditorium above. Clarence waits ahead, under the golden spheres, standing before a giant wall filled with tiny silver vials.

"You first," I turn to Reid.

He starts to protest but I nod, motioning him toward Clarence. Sampson rests a hand on his shoulder, leading him over. "Alright, Reid. You first."

Resisting for a moment, Reid makes his way toward Clarence who holds out his open palm. "Your finger?"

He presents his pointer as Clarence swipes a small, triangular device over the pad. The device, a whitish square object, floats over Reid's finger as it begins to spin around, faster and faster. After a few seconds, it begins to change colors, turning to a deep forest green, finally stilling in mid air. Suddenly, a silver vial on the wall illuminates to the same forest green. Clarence walks over, retrieving the vial from the wall and returns, handing it to Reid. Swiping the suspended green device in his other hand, Clarence points to the vial Reid is holding.

"Go up to your bunker, take a deep breath and drink that. It'll come at you all at once so be prepared."

Reid nods, pinching the vial between his pointer and thumb, examining it. He glances back to me and offers a grin, the vial disappearing in his hand which falls to his side in a tightened fist. He moves for the evibola, pausing at my side and, without looking at me, whispers in my ear. "After?"

I nod, watching him pass with Vix, waiting until footsteps are no longer audible. Once they're not, I look to Clarence.

There he is.

Up close.

The first person from this new life, the one who took me here, who started _all_ of this. He's grinning at me, a secret curving up his lips. Maybe it's pride. That I made it this far, that I stayed alive in a world of decreasing odds. For a reason I don't understand, I feel we owe each other some important greeting.

"I was wondering when I'd see you," he breaks the ice, the corner of his mouth pinching high into his cheek.

"Me too."

"And here we are..." he holds the strong eye contact before glancing over my shoulder at Sampson behind me. "I see you made some friends."

"Had to."

"Well, survival's a game—no? You do what you must."

"Game?" I wince ready to tell him how unlike a game this whole experience has been.

"Of course," and now he starts to pace, "everything we do, every choice we make propels us further into the final outcome, of determining who shall come out on top and who... should have never played at all. Aligning yourself with Sampson and the Rogues was the smartest thing you could've done," he smiles the same mischievous smirk again, "and you did. I _am_ sorry I couldn't tell you more... warn you—they would've known. But you made it here, this far. And finally," he grows serious again, "it's your turn."

I glance at the wall of vials behind him. Giant pockets of them are missing but many still remain. The memories of those already gone. Hinson. Raj. I gulp, reminding myself I'm lucky to have made it here. "Last but not least, I hope."

"Certainly not least," Clarence shakes his head, stepping toward me. "You figured it out."

"Didn't figure anything out. Just _found_ out."

"Yes but you and no one else. That says something," he waits a moment, trepidation in his voice. "Fallon..." he takes another step closer. "I'm not sure exactly how to say this..."

But I already know what he's going to say. It's me. I'm the five percent, or one of them, at least. Clarence is going to tell me I can't return, that the most he can give me are my memories but I'll have to stay in this life. For me, there's no going back.

"I know."

"You do?"

"Had a feeling."

"Fallon," Clarence clears his voice, "you're... _special_. I'm happy I came upon you when I did. If not, we wouldn't know what the Vermix are doing. In a way... it's a good thing you were brought here."

I want to cringe. Everything in that last statement is wrong but some truth rings from it. If I hadn't been brought here, I would have died. I wouldn't have helped here and met the people I did. If he didn't save me, I would've been wasted a while ago, serving no purpose.

But can I take all the credit? I had help. _Loads_ of it. "I'm sure someone else would've discovered what was happening."

"But they hadn't. Not until you. They should owe it all to _you_ ," he takes another step closer, offering his open palm invitingly. I walk toward him, extending my pointer finger as he takes it gently, placing the whitish square device above it. "And now my dear, your turn."

The object begins to spin above my finger, faster and faster until it turns a deep, enchanting turquoise. Suddenly, a vial lights up to the same hue, glowing on the wall behind Clarence. He turns and selects it, bringing it back around to offer me. In this tiny little vial of blue and green, my memories are contained. My life. My identity. All I have to do is drink it and I'll remember.

"Try not to focus on the moment leading up to your awakening," Clarence advises, handing me the vial. "It'll be tough, since it'll be freshest but do your best. You already know you can't return."

I squeeze the vial in my fingers, watching the bluish-green liquid drip like syrup as I flip it over. My life. Everything leading up to Clarence in that house. My house?

"Take it upstairs and give yourself time," he nods me on. "You'll be alright."

I want to say something but I'm too enraptured with the tiny bottle of liquid in my hands. Of what it means and what will happen when I drink it in a few minutes. "Thank you," is all I manage to get out before turning and heading for the evibola.

"Fallon," Sampson calls before I reach it. "Give yourself time. Give _others_ time as well. You never know what history they've discovered."

His words hold a heavy truth but I don't care to listen for it now. The only thing that matters is getting upstairs, drinking this and turning the lights back on. Nodding without a return glance, Vix escorts me to the evibola and I head up to my bunker. As I pass the doors to get to mine, loud sobs break into the hallway, some heavy, some light, while others remain eerily quiet.

I get to my bunker quickly and close the door. Sitting on the bed, I grasp the tiny vial in my fingers, watching as the liquid drops from one end to the other. I lift it to my mouth.

This is it.

Shutting my eyes, I pour the entire vial's contents into my mouth, swallowing quickly. It doesn't have much of a taste. In fact, I wouldn't even call it liquid but rather, a smoke or gas that expands in me once passing my lips. It balloons up inside and I can feel it coursing through my veins, reattaching itself like a twin to its pair. And then, they hit me all at once.

Snapshots.

Converse kicked off by the front door. My volleyball jersey slung across my bed. Pink Floyd and The Black Eyed Peas posters tacked to the wall and between them, mom's old vinyl record player past its prime. My beat-down Cadillac and the dented locker where I keep my purse stashed at the restaurant where I waitress. Granny Ruth's casserole dishes and the wind chimes clinking against her porch, the brown shag carpet and the yellow wallpaper she's refused to change since the seventies. And her yelling at me.

"Put down that book!"

Books.

_My_ books.

In the cedar chest at the foot of my bed. Reading them on a soft bed of grass in the forest behind our country house. Falling asleep there until Granny Ruth comes looking for me. She gets so angry. She knows where I am. Where I've always been. Tucked away in that forest— _my_ forest.

I remember it all. Everything. Everything from my life. I remember the way Granny Ruth smelled—a mixture of soap and lotion, like just coming from the aromatherapy store, even when she never left the house. I remember the green suede journal tucked beneath my mattress, fantasies of Han Solo scribbled in the pages. I remember it all. _Everything_. Including my name. _Francie_.

I'm Francie Fallon.

Tears flood as the sound rings in my head. Francie. I'm _Francie Fallon_ , I repeat to myself again and again. _Francie Fallon. Francie Fallon_. Now it seems silly I couldn't remember something so seemingly obvious. I'm Francie Fallon, twenty-three years old with no family other than Granny Ruth.

My eyes shoot open as an insurmountable pain threatens to explode inside my chest. Clarence said not to focus on it but now that the door's open, I can't look away. From the scene. From those last few moments when it happened. Walking into her bedroom and finding her body on the floor, bloodying the shag carpet I played on so many times before. How long had she been like that? And what happened?

Anger and fear swelled inside me for only a moment—because that's all the time I had. Pain like I'd never felt before ripped through me, as if something had literally reached in and pulled my organs loose. And then I was stumbling back, crashing to the floor, still aghast at the image of her body. And then, just when the pain began to ebb into numbness and the light to fade, he was there, calling my name.

Clarence.

Tears gush like a broken faucet. I'm too livid or depressed or crushed to really understand which emotion is causing them. I've been given back my life only to have it brutally taken from me at the end.

I can't be alone right now.

Rushing for the door, I head for Reid's. I need to tell him what happened—that Granny Ruth was murdered and if not for Clarence, I would have been as well. I need to hug him right now, to hold him. Racing for his room, I pass more sobs and screams. Now they know. Now we _all_ know. I knock on Reid's door.

"It's Fallon."

When he opens, my stomach wrenches. Something's wrong. Drained of all color, Reid is lost in an expression of shock that frightens me to the core. What could've caused this? Is he one of the five percent too? Did he see his own near-death?

"What?" I glance between his eyes, my words are barely whispers. "What happened?"

Shaking his head, he's lost somewhere, desperate confusion sweeping his face.

"I'm engaged."

#  Chapter Twenty-Eight: Preparation

It takes me a moment to hear it.

Part of my brain dismisses the word, first because of pure impossibility. I must've misheard. It's the only reason. But I replay it again, matching the statement to the paleness of his cheeks and his utter refusal to look me in the eye.

I can manage only one word. "Oh."

Reid shakes his head, "I'm sorry, Fallon. I just—I can't."

Pain courses through me like burning oil, choking out all my air. I can't breathe. I need to get somewhere where I can breathe. I'm not sure what happens next but I'm not at Reid's door anymore. I'm flying down the corridor, back toward my room, trying to keep the tears from gushing down my face.

I reach my room, rush in and collapse on my bed, diving into the navy rags. I just need to block it out. All of it. Everything I learned tonight. I've lost Granny Ruth, my whole life and now, in the promise of a new future, the one person I wanted to keep. Sobbing into the blanket, images of Granny Ruth's body lying in a crimson puddle take over. I push them from me, finding Reid's sullen face as his two words play over and over again in my head. My tears dampen the pillow as these interchanging images carry me off to sleep.

***

"If you'll please report to the Auditorium. We'll begin here shortly." Sampson's voice rings overhead, forcing my eyes open.

I kick my feet out of the blankets and sit up, running my fingers through my hair. A stray strand sticks to my cheek but I wipe it clean, inhaling the scent of a new day—the first one waking up as Francie Fallon. It's the first day I won't have to wonder about who I was because now I know what came before this—before all of this.

People will be sharing their stories, describing things to one another and offering details of their past. I can't let what happened last night affect what needs to be done today. Last night was just a bad memory—one I can pocket with my last day on Earth and never think about again.

Forcing myself from the bed, I head for the Bathing Bubble like usual but find it mostly empty. People have either passed through or are still in their bunkers, trying to make sense of a world stolen from them. I take my time, enjoying the sensation of hot water against my skin as it washes me clean of yesterday. Of the take-over. Of the horrors in the laboratories. Of the final images the vial revealed. And of course, of Reid.

Granny Ruth would know what to do. What to say. It'd be the exact thing to hear to make sense of the world and its backwards way of working sometimes. One tear ventures forward, slipping down my cheek and joins the ocean of water at my feet. Granny Ruth would _definitely_ know what to say. About it all, _everything_ that's happened... even to her. She'd come out with some one-liner that'd wrap it up in a bow, one that would give me something to think about for a while.

Except I can't ask her. Not this time. And that's what sears more than anything. Closing my eyes, I summon her face, drowning in it. Large round red frames over golden spheres that had a way of looking into you, _through_ you. That long nose and her thickly lipped mouth covered in laugh lines. That mischievous grin, like she could hear my thoughts, like she already knew what I was going to ask before I did. But I can't ask her this time. What if I could?

_This one_ , she'd say, _you're on your own, kiddo_.

I was prepared as Fallon and ready for it all, ready to _conquer_ it all. But an unsure Francie isn't the best thing for the group. I need to do this without Granny Ruth and I can. I can do it as Fallon. She'd understand. I _know_ she would.

I miss you, Granny Ruth.

I push her from my mind only to have Reid pop in again, an alternate wound to nurse. I close my eyes, trying to forget it, but his words flash over me.

_I just—I can't_.

I really am alone.

Out of the Bathing Bubble, I'm heading for the Auditorium when I feel a light bump on my hip. "June Pratt. Nice to meet you."

"Francie Fallon," I bow my head in return, happy to find a friendly face.

"Francie?" she finds this humorous. "I think I prefer Fallon."

"Oh really? And what about you? Don't think I'm going to start calling you June—I'm already set on Pratt."

"You can still call me Pratt."

"Yeah?" We're almost to the Courtyard, to the place we first met a few weeks ago. "Not a fan of June?"

"Well, there's no point getting used to that name."

I stop immediately, turning to her. How is this possible? She's so young—she deserves a future, a future other than this. I want to say something, to comfort her, but I'm not sure what. "I'm sorry."

"It's okay. Turns out I didn't have much of a life to return to... it's better this way."

What happened? During her life and in those final moments? And how is it automatically better this way? Reaching out, I squeeze her shoulder. She deserves a hug but I'm afraid the tears will start flooding and they'll be no turning them off. I drop my hand and we continue down the stairs.

"Well... at least I'll have good company."

"You too?" she's surprised. "You're a five percent?"

"One of the lucky few."

"Is Reid?"

Without looking at her, I shake my head.

"Oh... well he'll probably stay anyway."

It stings me with hope but I shut it out quickly. She doesn't know. What the truth of the matter is. That he's built a life with someone else, a life he'll be given back as soon as all of this ends. I don't have the energy—or the stomach—to tell her so I offer a quick shrug instead.

We reach the Courtyard with the others and descend into the Auditorium. Sampson and Clarence—both in human form—stand atop the glowing trunk in the middle of the half empty room, large pockets of bodies occupying all corners of the room. A few singles wait, arms crossed and concentrated on the glowing trunk where Sampson and Clarence chat quietly. But even with the thick clusters of conversation, there can't be more than two hundred people here. Where are the rest? Lingering in the Bathing Bubble? Or have they not been able to pry themselves from bed?

Pratt's at my side again, gesturing up a bit. I follow her aim and find a few of the Rogue Commanders in a tight circle near the trunk. The rest of the Rogues meander nearby, talking amongst themselves, with their Scouts and others. Pratt takes off for their area.

"Fallon," Able smiles widely as I'm slow to approach. "Or should I call you...?"

"Fallon's fine," Pratt grins, winking at me before redirecting her attention, "and you, Mr. Able? What do we call you now?"

"Matthew."

"No nickname?" I try the name on for size. He's just not a Matthew. "No Matt? Matty?"

" _Just_ Matthew," he laughs, "although with two years under my belt as Able, maybe I'll just stick with it."

"Are you one of the five percent?" Pratt asks, an undeniable hopefulness in her tone.

Able—or Matthew—shakes his head, "Haven't talked to anyone yet who is... wonder how many there are."

"None of the Rogues?" she gestures behind us and then to the other Rogue Commanders who've started a new thread of conversation.

"If they are, they haven't told me," he glances between us. "What about you two?"

Pratt and I exchange looks. Able's expression changes and just when I'm sure he's going to ask, Tucker breaks into the tight circle of Rogue Commanders, followed by Reid.

My heart stops.

The two head Rogues keep their conversation going as they join their crew, neither bothering to look around. Harrison, Jace, Chief and Kelly all offer the proper greetings, Able doing the same. Reid nods, scanning... then sees me.

Our eyes lock for an intense moment, my heart about to explode from the surprise in his. But he breaks the connection instantly, looking down. A pain ignites but I ignore it, focusing on Sampson and Clarence atop the glowing iridescent trunk. They end their conversation at the same time, looking out at those of us here, those of us bothering to show up.

"I know this must be difficult for you," Sampson begins, silencing everyone, "I cannot begin to understand your pain as you have felt it, to know what has been taken from you by those who wish to seek your harm. But," and his voice strengthens, "do believe me when I say, I know the agony of being separated from the ones you love..." his words trail off for a moment, the same despair rising in them. He blinks his eyes clean, finding focus with the half-filled audience, "...So it's my intent to have you returned to them. But we can't do it alone."

He scans the sparse crowd. "There are more here than I'd hoped—which is good. But still," he shakes his head, "it's not enough. Not for the force Beshib will be bringing back. Not for the hoards of Vermix—heavily armed, I might add—that'll be pouring through the gates, waiting to round you up for 'routine check-ups.' Once they come it'll be too late. Your death will be imminent and there's nothing any of us," he glances to Clarence, "can do about it. If you want to return home—if you want to rejoin your lives—we'll need _everyone_ to fight."

Sampson paces. "Beshib should be gone for a total of ten days— _nine_ now. In that time, we need to be training... _preparing_ for their return. Vix, Clarence and I will train everyone on various Dofinike weaponry. Rox and the other Rogue Commanders will assist on human defenses. We can return you home but only if we're ready. Only if we're prepared to fight our way out."

***

Sampson has everyone outside where an array of Dofinike weaponry has been laid out in a single line, following the curve of the trench and reaching from one end of the Castle to the other. Vix, Clarence and Sampson break the two hundred or so of us into three groups, each focusing on different weapons. I'm grouped with Pratt in Sampson's section, to the far right side of the lot, where the Kings chased and eventually cornered me. Reid is with Tucker, Able and a few of the other Rogues in Clarence's group, which hugs the Water Pole. Vix and the others are straight across from us, on the left side of the Castle.

We're all crowding around Sampson who's holding a black device over his head with both arms. He projects his voice so everyone can hear him, turning the object in various angles so all can see.

"This is a Chaisle. Similar to a standard pistol and works about the same. In lieu of bullets, it holds a capsule of tiny blades that, when triggered, release in a spiraled path, _literally_ carving their way through the target. If you want someone stopped dead," he holds the Chaisle up high, "use this. Be warned—it does not do well in far ranges," Sampson illustrates aiming out toward the openness. "More than thirty feet and the spiral fails, the blades falling before they reach the target. Use as backup for close defense," he sets the Chaisle on the ground at his feet, picking up a silver, similar looking object except this one has a longer barrel. Like before, Sampson holds the item over his head, making sure we can all see.

"This is a Fiminer. One of my personal favorites, it penetrates the target first, then pins the capture to the ground. A Fiminer is a non-lethal option to suppress your opponent if you need them alive later. It can reach far ranges but don't fall fool to its arrogance. The magnetism of the clip," Sampson points to the barrel's black, triangular tip, "only holds to the metal in the ground for so long. If strong enough, your opponent could pull themselves free—the mere wound being your only advantage. Now," he sets the Fiminer next to the Chaisle and looks back to us, narrowing his eyes as he glances from face to face. "We have plenty for everyone to practice with both. Get _used_ to them. To their weight. To handling them. _Practice_. Find your aim," he motions to two giant piles laid out on either side of him. On the right, a heaping stack of Chaisles and the left, a mound of Fiminers. "I'll be walking around to help anyone who needs it..."

Everyone rushes up and selects one to practice with. The Chaisles seem to be the popular choice so I select the Fiminer and run my fingers against its cool, silvery metal. It's lighter than I expected—maybe only a pound or two. Lining it up to my eye, I find an imaginary target out in the emptiness in front of me and pretend to shoot.

"Taking many prisoners?"

"Oh," I drop the Fiminer at the sound of his voice. "Hey Walker."

"It's Heath, actually."

"Right, right," I shake my head, forgetful everyone's only part of who they were. I wonder what Reid's first name is?

"It's alright. I like Walker too," he shrugs. "It's just about getting used to it, right?"

"I guess," I shrug and then, after a moment, "so where you heading back to?"

"Austin," he pauses and then, with real sincerity says, "you should come and visit sometime. You know, when you're settled and want a change of scenery."

"That sounds nice..." I choose my words carefully, "and I honestly would if I could."

He's waiting for more but there's nothing left to say. His golden eyes light up after a second, realization striking him.

"You?" he turns to me, angry. " _You_ should be able to return more than anyone. The way you handled the crowd... you gave us our memories back and _you_ can't go home?"

Shaking my head, I debate asking him to keep his voice down. No one else needs to know I can't go home. No one needs to know I'm going to stay and fight alongside Sampson and Clarence in their war. That's my business. I'm about to ask Walker to lower his voice when I feel someone watching me. I turn, scanning the crowded lot as a pair of sharp, powerful eyes lock onto mine.

I'm frozen.

Reid's form stands rigid. He's watching with narrowed eyes, his arms crossed tightly over his chest, like he's restricting himself from heading over.

Walker slips his hand in mine, offering a gentle squeeze. "I'm really sorry, Fallon."

Reid takes a small step but stops himself.

"It's not your fault," I focus on Walker. "You know, it happened this way. Maybe for a reason. But I'm happy you can go back... you know... if we can pull this whole thing off."

"And why can't we?" he drops my hand and motions around. "You guys seem to know what you're doing.

"Direction's one thing. Willingness is totally different."

"And what? We're not willing?" He lifts his arms as if to demonstrate how many people are out here. It does seem though, now after taking a second look, that more people have joined the groups. The entire population's still not here, but we may have grown from two hundred to three or so by now.

"You know what I mean."

"The others just need time to adjust. They'll be out here in a day or two. Once they realize how mad they are..." Walker heads for the mound of Chaisles and selects one. I follow along, feeling Reid's scorching stare with each step. I want to glance at him but that wouldn't do any good. At least Walker's focusing on the inevitable battle ahead. He holds the Chaisle up, aiming at an invisible target and mutters to himself. "I can't wait to use this on those bastards. Can't wait."

He shoots and the flying bullet of blades spins outward for about twenty feet, then falls to the rocky ground below. I watch it disappear into the cracked gray-blue, imagining the enemy falling to the ground instead. Keeping his aim with the Chaisle, he states rather than asks. "When your cheek was cut—that was the night you found them."

"Yeah."

"You found them by yourself?"

I exhale. "Yeah."

"Christ Almighty, Fallon," he lowers his Chaisle. Looking at me more intently than I'd anticipated, Walker speaks in tender, curious words. "What happened out there?"

I take a breath, ready to dive back into the horrors of that first night when Sampson's voice projects over the entire lot. "Very good. Let's have the groups rotate then. Remember, we will be out here training everyday so if you want extra practice, you will have it!"

Thankful for the distraction, I return a smile to Walker and head for the Water Pole just as Pratt joins my side. The rest of our group migrates in the same direction as those with Clarence move to Vix and those with Vix, come around to Sampson. I try not to look for Reid, to locate him amongst the crowd but I'm already searching.

"You okay?" Pratt asks.

"Yeah..." I lie without caring to convince her. "I'm fine."

"Is it about Walker?" she tries but I shake my head. "Reid?"

The sound of his name stings me, my legs involuntarily stopping. The hesitation startles even me as Pratt's mouth dips to an unsettling frown. She lowers her head, speaking in soft words. "I'm sorry."

Why is everyone apologizing to me today?

I shrug, walking on. Can't we go back to weapons training? To prepping for the return of the Vermix? We're almost to the Water Pole, Clarence looking on the large group as we approach in one slow-moving herd.

"I don't know what's going on between you two," Pratt tries again, speaking lowly so that only the two of us can hear. "But he's been watching you all day."

"That doesn't mean anything."

A couple more steps.

"...Means _something_."

"Saying his goodbyes, I'm sure. Listen, Pratt, I'm sorry," I step away from her, toward the pile of weapons in front of us, "but I can't talk about this anymore."

I turn before getting a response, heading for the front, for Clarence. I don't want to talk to anyone right now. Not a single person. Except maybe Granny Ruth. Another punch to my gut and I'm out of breath again. The only person who could possibly help, can't. She's been taken from me brutally, by an unknown monster, one I will end if I ever get the chance.

I shake the image away, shake the past away. The future is all I have left and besides, I don't need help. I just need to get my hands on those weapons. I need to learn how to use them, _practice_ using them. It's pointless filling my head with anything other than that.

The next few hours pass the same way, each group rotating between Vix, Clarence and Sampson and learning different types of weapons, both Dofinike and human. On our last rotation around, Clarence draws our attention to the front with a boomingly strong voice.

"Alright, you'll really want to pay attention. This," he holds up a triangular blue and orange object with a long, narrow pipe extending from one point, "is a Traxpire. This is the Vermixes ultimate weapon. This is only a model and unfortunately, we don't have any to practice on..."

"So why show us?" Werzo's voice cuts through the crowd.

I shoot him a look, along with a few others before we redirect our attention back to Clarence.

"I'm _showing_ you," it sounds like he's holding back a snide remark of his own, "to make you aware. This," again, he holds it high so we can all see, "will cause fatal damage if it doesn't kill you instantly. It is the prize defense of the Vermix and yes," he answers our puzzling looks, "you should be afraid."

"What does it do?" someone asks.

"It shoots a tiny device into your target and after three," he shifts, considering, "maybe four seconds, unleashes a set of chemicals that create an explosion, disabling that portion—or limb—of your victim. Aim for the head or heart—it's a fatal shot."

"But the Chaisle..." a girl starts.

"...Will wound, possibly slow, but this," he makes sure everyone can see, "is the real deal. You do _not_ want to be on the receiving end."

"Will it be their main defense?" I ask.

"Not necessarily. They'll only reach for it when absolutely desperate. They'll want to reserve ammo so Chaisles and Fiminers are your best bet. Now," Clarence begins pacing, "if _truly_ threatened, Vermix will reach for the Traxpire or if they have them, their hand whips—whips so sharp they can cut through bone."

A ubiquitous inhale fills the air.

"I'm not telling you this to frighten you... but you need to know what you're up against. Again, the latter two are not likely, but still possible. You need to be as prepared as you can."

"And we can't practice?" Werzo reaches for the Traxpire again.

"You _cannot_ ," Clarence keeps it high up and away, "but get a good look. If you see one, run. That is not advice."

After Clarence presents a few more smaller, close combat items, everyone retreats to individual practice at his request, most returning for the Chaisles, Fiminers and other various weapons. When the sky fades to pink and people have slowed, finding interest in socializing rather than training, Sampson addresses the entire lot again, projecting his voice over all others.

"This has been a productive first day. I thank you all for your help and hard work. Let's rest for the remainder of the evening and we'll resume training again tomorrow. Will the following persons please stay behind: Francie Fallon, Andrew Reid, Charles Tucker, Matthew Able, Roy Harrison, James Jace, Asen Yahola, Steven Kelly, Kurt Clark, Brandon Griffin and June Pratt." Sampson ends with a slight bow and a gracious, "Thank you."

Andrew Reid. His name is Andrew.

I ignore the pounding in my chest and cross the distance to Sampson, everyone else walking past me, back toward the Castle. They're heading in for the night, to relax, to mingle, to have time to themselves—if they so desire. But I'm still here, when all _I_ want to do is sleep. Sleep away the past. Sleep away the future. And most certainly, sleep away the present. Everyone keeps telling me what I deserve. Shouldn't it be peace?

We all at arrive roughly the same time, Clarence and Vix making their way over as well. Reid is just feet away. With arms tightly folded over his chest, he cocks his head back, focusing on Sampson. We both stand rigidly still, like a block of solid space separates us, one we're both fully conscious of. It's like that every time though, when he's around. Space is broken into a matter of hard distance that shouldn't exist. And right now, neither of us is willing—or able—to break it.

"Alright," Sampson looks around. "Very productive day indeed. There's a lot we must go over and I believe everyone here is a vital asset to strategizing the next phase so..." he glances from face to face, "with that said, why don't we all head upstairs for a chat?"

The group nods as Sampson, Clarence and Vix lead us to Beshib's office on the top floor. The room's enormous, about half the size of the Auditorium and sits enclosed in rust colored marble. A great, round black table sits in the immediate center of the room and I can't help but think of Arthur and his knights.

"Please," Sampson motions to the table as we all begin to sit.

The chairs, made from the same marble of the table, are uncomfortable and cold. We place ourselves evenly around the table, leaving a few vacant chairs between us.

"Where's Jothkore?" Pratt asks.

"Attending some personal errands for me, but I shall fill him in when he returns," Sampson looks around the table. "Alright, today's been very productive indeed. But I was only viewing from the instructor's perspective and at times, this can be flawed. You were amongst nearly three-fourths of the population. How'd they feel throughout the day?"

No one says anything but instead, looks around the room. Was anybody paying attention to the others? Or was today a selfish one, used to reflect only what we wanted to think about? The silence goes on a little too long so I summon the moment with Walker and his statement.

_I can't wait to use this on those bastards. Can't wait_.

"Angry," I finally admit. "Some of them were angry." At this, I glance to Reid who's already watching me. It causes a violent stir in my gut so I look back to Sampson.

"Good," he nods. "That's good."

"Well of _course_ they're angry," Clark gripes, "why wouldn't they be? I am!"

"You're _always_ angry," I snap, and, fueled by everything rushing inside me, go on, "but I'm sure waking up to your past can't help."

Clark's brows sink low as he crosses his arms in retaliation. "At least _I_ have a life to go back to."

At this, the room sits silent. I've been exposed as a five percent. That's fine. It's not like everyone here wouldn't find out at some point anyway. Inhaling deeply, Reid's bewildered stare barrels into me like a laser, zapping all the breath I have from my gut. I force a look at him and when I do, my heart nearly breaks. His face, so startled, so unsure and confused looks as pained as I feel. Did he not hear through the grape-vine like Clark?

"Well I don't either," Pratt's strong voice breaks the hard silence.

"Me neither," Jace admits.

"Or me," Tucker adjusts after a moment, everyone then looking to him. "So there are a few of us a little angry _too_. But maybe we can leave ourselves out of this and focus on the plan now?"

"Right," Clarence agrees, leaning forward and threading his fingers together on the table. "So if anger's the common theme here, does it translate well? Are we seeing an army form? Or do they need further guidance?"

"They seem thoroughly motivated," Reid chimes in, speaking directly to Clarence, "they just need practice. But once Beshib returns, they'll be ready."

"What about combat?" Vix suggests. "Hand to hand? If Beshib's bringing back any elder members of the Vermix, they'll fight in the ancient ways. They'll disarm half the humans before they're even able to fire a single shot."

"We can't teach them that kind of combat in a few days time," Clarence laughs, "it takes _years_ of training—and that's for a Dofinike."

"I thought someone of your habits didn't distinguish much between humans and Dofinikes?" Vix poses with an accusing undertone I don't miss. The question hangs in the air, Clarence shaking his head and turning to Sampson instead.

"It doesn't make sense. They should be trained on weapons alone. You know, as _I_ do, once they're at combat stage, the fight is already won."

Sampson nods, considering his statement. I risk a glance to Reid who's waiting for a reply like the rest of us. Instinctively, his eyes fly to me, the fire searing me again. A large lump rolls down his throat but he breaks the connection, looking back to Sampson.

"We can set some time aside," Sampson decides, "a few hours at the most, for combat training. The rest of the time will be spent learning weapons and practicing."

"Has anyone requested to see the mutations?" I ask.

"Yes, actually," Sampson nods, "a few people have come to me, asking to be taken there."

"So outings will have to be arranged at some point," I exhale, "depending on how many want to go?"

"Enough to be broken into groups, I'd say. We can take a few in the morning, a few at midday."

"Good," I nod. "It'll give them more fuel. Make them want it more."

"They're already pretty fueled," Reid replies without meeting my eye. Something in his voice stresses another meaning, "And ready to fight _now_."

"And that's good," Sampson continues, "because Blovid said they may be returning early..." he glances to Clarence for confirmation, "...is that correct?"

Hanging his head slightly, Clarence nods in agreement, "Yes... we're not sure when."

"Wait," I sit forward, a bolt of fear striking my brain. How have I not thought of this sooner? "But if you're both communicating with Blovid... what's keeping Tetlak or Jeb from contacting Beshib?"

"Pillypees," Sampson answers, "the _sleep_ serum. As long as we continue giving them regular doses, they won't be able to notify Beshib."

"So who's giving them doses?" I ask.

"Rogues are taking shifts," Tucker clears his throat. "Should be Niles' turn now."

"My question," Clark speaks up, "although no one asked me, is _when_ are we returning home? If all goes well, when are those of us who are able, going to be taken back?"

Clarence and Sampson exchange glances with one another, a subtle gesture Clark doesn't miss.

"Look," he scoffs, "I'm sorry if that sounds bad but I want to know. I have a _right_ to know. So do the others," he gestures to them, hoping they'll back his argument. But they remain quiet, motionless, simply watching. Sitting back comfortably, Clark begins to barter unnecessarily, "If we fight for you, in _your_ war, then we should..."

"For _your_ freedom," I add under my breath.

He flies forward with a snarl. "No one's talking to you, _Francie_."

"Hey," Able pitches in. " _Back off_. You're lucky you're even here."

"Yeah," Jace laughs, "and you're wearing on my nerves so it'd be wise..." he cracks his knuckles loudly.

Harrison chortles just as Clark's face turns a bright red, "Look at him—scared stiff. What do you say we throw old Chief in?" he jerks his head to the silent Indian, "Just for shits and giggles?"

"Heh," Kelly mumbles to himself, unimpressed as he goes on, picking his nails.

"Guys," Tucker commands the room. "Come on, focus."

"You can't side with this guy," Jace motions to Clark, suppressing a pathetic laugh. "He's a mouse. And he's being a dick to Fallon."

It warms my heart to know the Rogues would stand behind me like this—most at least, except for Reid, who's been sitting quietly, watching everything without any comment.

Unable to help myself, I turn to Clark. "And it's Fallon to you, _Kurt_."

"That's right," he hisses in response, finding his strength again, if only to tear me down a little. "I _am_ Kurt. I'm Kurt Clark. Born 1984 in Salt Lake City, Utah. Abducted 2008 on my way home from the campus library," he fumes at Clarence, "and taken here, to a prison—a waste of my time and talent for _two_ years. I'm sorry, but I want to know..."

Jace cracks his knuckles again, Kelly picking his nails with a new tool he's produced. It's small, capable of hiding easily in the palm of a hand.

Clark gulps, deciding if it's best to keep going but before he can make up his mind, Reid draws the attention back to himself.

"If we return... is it to the same time?"

"Same time," Clarence responds first. "To the _exact_ moment. It'd be as if this never happened—any of it."

"And we wouldn't remember?" Reid clears his throat, finding focus with the table, unable to look up. A punch to my gut and all the air has been vacuumed from my chest.

"Not a clue," Clarence shakes his head. "You'd just be older and mostly, none the wiser. Although..." and he debates revealing this, strumming his fingers on the table, "dreams _may_ occur. Habitually, if they're strong."

"What do you mean?" Reid narrows his eyes.

"Well," Clarence sits back, threading his fingers over his stomach, "you wouldn't remember this place because it'd be like it never happened. But it _did_. It's happening right now," he glances around the table, "and even if we wave our hand and make it all disappear, it's still in you. Still part of your core, your physical being. A small part of you will always be aware—and it's in your dreams that it'll reveal itself. Whatever you keep hidden away, locked here—it will reveal itself every night. You'll see it and not understand it."

"So you're saying I'll never get rid of this place?" Clark groans under his breath.

"Come on....you should be used to nightmares by now," Able grins.

I piggyback off his comment, "Hope I say hi."

Clark recoils. "It almost doesn't seem worth it to be haunted by _you_."

"No it doesn't," Reid mutters to himself as I glance over. His eyes quickly fly from mine, landing on Sampson. "How long will it take?"

"Hmm?"

"To transport everyone back? How long? A few weeks or so?"

"I think we could manage in about a day. Maybe two."

"A day or two?" Clark gasps. "That's wonderful! We could be back home in about a week!"

"Well," Clarence sits up, "let's not get ahead of ourselves. Even if Beshib comes _tomorrow_ —and I'm not saying he will—that doesn't mean the fight won't go on for a bit. Knowing him, he won't surrender until he's dead. This," Clarence takes a breath, "may last for a while."

Clark lets out a loud gruff.

I look to Sampson, "Really? All four hundred or so in two days?"

"The actual transporting doesn't take very much time at all," he nods, "it's locating the _when_ that eats away the minutes."

"So, once we've won..." I start.

"Everyone will be on their way home!" Clark slaps on more enthusiasm, nearly all the Rogues' eyes narrowing to sharp slits, sending a violent wave of fury his way.

But he's right. If we win this battle, the next topic will be returning everyone home who's able. It's inevitable. Still, the familiar pain shoots up my chest as I force myself to see only Sampson and concern myself with what's immediately at stake. We haven't won yet.

"And Beshib?" I try, "Do you have any additional information on him? Can you communicate with him the same way you do as Blovid?"

"We can't make connection with him—our lines have been cut off now for a while."

"Lines?" Able asks curiously.

"Yes, lines of communication," Clarence explains, "like a tunnel to hear another's thoughts. Dofinikes are born with an ability to be able to listen and _be_ listened to. We can suffocate a tunnel though, if we no longer trust the connection or, if it's serious, the tunnel can be severed completely. Knowing Beshib has partnered with Reuzkimpart, we severed the link a long time ago."

"Well what about Tetlak?" I ask, " _Jeb_? They'd know something, right? I'm sure they have _something_ useful we can use."

"Tetlak would never talk," Clarence shakes his head, "but Jeb may. What do you think?" he poses to Sampson with a bit of a shrug. "Want to have a little chat with our old friend?"

"Certainly. Tucker?"

Tucker rises to a stand, moving for the room's exit as he pokes his head out. Speaking lowly, he whispers something before returning and taking his seat again. "Well I know _your_ question's been answered," he glares at Clark, "but _mine_ hasn't been."

"And that is?" Clarence turns to him, sitting back once more.

"What happens after this? After Beshib returns and everyone's been taken back... What happens then?"

"You mean," Pratt speaks up. "What's going to happen to _us_?"

"Well..." Sampson clears his voice. "I'd assume you'd want to accompany us further. This battle is not the last fight in this war but perhaps... merely... just the beginning. I'd hoped you'd continue with the Arizals. Of course, you have allies here—friends."

Tucker, Jace and Pratt exchange glances, then look to me. I nod, speaking for all. "I think that sounds good."

"Great," Clark rushes us on, "next topic..."

"Hinson," Griffin speaks up, startling me. With his overpowering silence, I forgot he was here. "When do we get a cure for Hinson?"

Sampson and Clarence eye one another before Clarence takes a breath. He leans forward, toward Griffin. "That depends. I'd have to assess the damage. Possibly have the healers take a look. But... it'd take time."

"I can wait."

Another worried glance and Clarence goes on. "You're more than welcome to wait, Griffin, as long as you want... but please understand, it'll take time some time..." he's careful with his words, "...if there even _is_ a cure, and it's not the next item on the agenda."

"I said I can wait," Griffin repeats, just as Merritt walks in, half-dragging Jeb in his human form. The two stagger closer, Jeb just awakening and drunkenly leaning on Merritt who seats him in the empty section between Clarence and Griffin.

Clarence smiles at him. "Very good—we'll see if Jeb knows anything. Jeb? You awake?"

"Hmm?" His eyes open groggily, looking around.

"Wake up, buddy," Clarence slaps him on the back. "What do you think?"

"Please repeat the question," Jeb mumbles, rubbing his eyes with his palms.

"The people you've been taking. The," I hesitate at the word, saying it gently for Griffin's sake, " _experiments_ out in the woods—can you fix them?"

Blinking, Jeb wakes up, surprised to see me. "Fallon."

"Answer the question."

He takes a moment to consider it, keeping our eye contact locked. Finally, he shakes his head. "No. They cannot be fixed. Not in the way you'd want them to be. They are attempts at a whole—at something better than themselves, so to fix them would be to _complete_ them, which is being perfected in the laboratories."

"Not anymore," Jace says.

"Nope..." Harrison echoes behind him, " _all_ done."

Surprised for only a moment, Jeb brushes his face clean with serenity. "Fallon, please believe me—it's best this way. Your prime utilization was questioned many times. You can _give_ ," he glances to my stomach, then back to me, "so much more than just service."

"How do you undo it?" I ask through gritted teeth.

"There is no undoing."

I'm afraid to go on, knowing Griffin is in the room but since we're here, since he's able to tell us, I can't stop now. I need to know, and so do the rest of us. "Why not?"

"There's nothing _to_ undo," Jeb sits up, the crazed hint lingering in his eyes, "they've already died. There's no bringing them back to what they were before. This growth, this attempted rebirth is the product, the _result_ of our most vigorous work, so far."

"So undoing it..."

"Would be taking their life again, leaving them dead, which, technically speaking... they are. We have to keep going. Keep going until we perfect it—please, you must understand."

"Why?" Reid winces.

"To create the perfect solider," Jeb turns to him, "one that could be useful even after death, one that could reanimate time after time."

"But if your war is against the humans, why would you want to make them indestructible?" Able asks.

"We fight two enemies—the Arizals _and_ humans. Before we can take your planet, we must secure our own. The inexhaustible supply of a reanimating human army would surely secure our victory over the Arizals who will never surrender. Of course, when the time comes," he says calmly, considering, "we'll set this great weapon free on Earth so as to prevent the prophecy."

"You can't prevent a prophecy," I correct. "That's why it's a prophecy—it's bound to happen."

" _Duh_ ," someone adds in the background.

"And we simply cannot allow that," Jeb ignores it, going on, "when the time comes, Earth will suffer, cut down by her own hand."

"And we're just stepping stones in your great journey to a zombie army... _Jesus_..." Jace swears under his breath, running his hand up his neck and through his yellow hair. "And why the girls?"

"By creating soldiers from birth, we can better manipulate the genes from the origin. Results have proven more successful when engineered at the _fetus_ level rather than a fully-aged human adult."

"When's Beshib returning?" I don't know why but I feel like asking him anything I want. He's here, under _our_ command for once. Clarence, Sampson and the others immediately look to Jeb who keeps his focus on the table in front of him.

"No one knows... not even me."

"How many Vermix is he bringing with him?" Sampson asks.

"He expects about two dozen or so, with some additional scientists, but again," Jeb explains, "he doesn't share this sort of detail with..."

"He anticipating any of this?" Clarence motions to the rest of us. "He expecting it?"

Jeb hesitates in his response but after a moment, lets his head tilt into a bit of a nod. "Tetlak gives him constant reports. I'm not sure when it was that they last spoke..." he offers a bit of a shrug.

We all glance around at each other, considering the obvious flaw. Have we overlooked something that could destroy this whole effort already?

Urged by the blood boiling under my skin, I sit up. "When I got here, how many people had been taken?"

"Eighty-seven," he's quick to respond. "Sixty-four females and twenty-three males."

"Why the males?" Tucker asks.

"They would not reproduce. Never sexually interacted with the females, some of them, and a few, only with each other. They were no longer viable for their initial service."

"So..."

Jeb's head snaps to me. "They were taken to the laboratories. There's no reason for pointless waste."

"And you really do feel justified in what you're doing?"

"You must understand, Fallon. For many to be saved, few must be sacrificed. To protect Dellapalania and her children is the only thing that matters. We must collectively do what it takes to ensure her utmost survival."

"By killing innocent people who have nothing to do with you? Right, well, is there anything else you can tell us?"

"Stop this at once!" he says emphatically, leaning forward with urgency, "you must abort your mission now before it's too late. Ask for forgiveness and Beshib will be lenient."

"Oh, and how's that?" Jace laughs. "By not killing us sooner?"

"Fallon," Jeb turns to me, "please understand, you honor us with your service..."

I'm disgusted. Revolted. Insulted and enraged. How can he sit there and justify his evil? _Their_ evil? I glance to Merritt for the slightest of seconds, then back to Jeb. "I think you're done."

Merritt nudges Jeb in the shoulder with the barrel as he rises to a stand. Walking him out, Merritt glances back to Tucker. "Looper's going on watch now, then Booker, then me."

"The Kings?"

"Simon's on shift tonight."

Tucker nods, dismissing them.

"Okay, so, somewhat useful," Able shrugs, just as the two leave the room. "Beshib's return may be sooner than we think."

"Don't know how soon..." Tucker grumbles the uncertainty we all feel.

"And therein lies the problem," Sampson exhales, "with Tetlak's lack of communication, it could be any day. There's really no way of knowing. If he expects it," and now he looks to Clarence, "you think he'll bring a fleet?"

"No," Clarence laughs at the idea of it, "he's too proud to let others think he needs extra help. He'll come back with the same amount he had planned. He'll just _prepare_ them."

"Then there's nothing more we can do?" Reid speaks up. "Any way _we_ can prepare?"

"We've done it—we're doing it," Clarence says, "we're training you how to defend yourselves. With the situation at hand...it's the best we've got."

"Sampson," I look him straight in the eye, "do you think we can do this? Can we _really_ win this fight?"

Sampson's robin's egg blue eyes never leave mine as a hint of a smile creeps along his lips. "I think anything is possible... with faith."

This is enough for me. Sampson has faith. And if he believes, then I do too. It's possible. To win this so everyone can go back home and the rest of us can move on. To new adventures. To a new life. We're not sure when Beshib is coming back so we'll have to prepare each day as if it's the one. But that's to think about tomorrow, after the drain of today has been slept away. Even if there is more information to exchange, I don't think I could absorb it. Right now, the only thing that makes sense is curling up on my bed and losing myself to its soft, inviting warmth.

"If that's everything we need to discuss..." I stand.

"What?" Clark snaps. "You'll just be on your merry way?"

"Kind of thinking about it—yeah. Little tired."

"I don't know why you think you're so special to be able to dictate..." his voice disappears behind a chorus of cracking knuckles. I want to laugh aloud at their support, until I realize Reid's not one of them. His right hand grips the back of his neck as his left strums the table.

"Do you mind?" I ask Sampson, my eyes narrowing on his face. It takes a lot but I manage to block Reid's sight from creeping in.

"No, actually," Sampson grins, "I was just thinking it was a good time to wrap up anyway." He stands as the rest jump to their feet too. "You all have had a heavy day and I'm sure, like me, are anxious to retire. We'll resume training in the morning."

We leave Beshib's office and head for the evibolas, splitting into two groups. Somehow, Reid and I end up in the same one, along with Able, Tucker, Pratt and Clarence. Reid's to my right, arms crossed and feet just apart, focused ahead on the door. We're only in here for a few seconds but it feels like forever.

From the corner of my eye, his body stands rigid, like he wants to remain as still as possible. If he doesn't move, I can't see him and there's no chance of that awkward talk. A sharp pain rips through me and just as I'm recovering, Clarence motions us out. I don't hesitate. The sooner I can get to my room, the better.

But someone else has gotten off the evibola too. Footsteps sound behind me but stop. Start again and then stop. By the time I get to my bunker, I put in the combination and push the door open. With a deep inhale, I glance to him.

Reid's nearly at the beginning of the corridor, standing rigid and watching me. His face has lightened, his jaw hanging low though no words escape. What's he want to say? _What_? I wait for only a second more, glancing between the deep seas of his burning brown eyes before turning and heading into my bunker.

#  Chapter Twenty-Nine: Second Battle of Harrizel

Beshib hasn't returned for two days but Sampson doesn't seem fazed by it. He has us training from morning to evening and mostly everyone in the Castle is finally participating. There are a few, of course, simply unwilling to get out of bed but Sampson says they probably wouldn't be of much help anyway. We're doing everything we need to be doing so when the time comes, we'll be prepared.

It's mid-afternoon and I've been practicing with a Chaisle for a while, lost in thought. Swallowing the Reid pill is hard enough, but knowing I don't have Granny Ruth is killing me. I want to talk to her about everything, everything that has happened and everything we're planning on doing. What would she say? Would she be proud? The image of her body flashes through my mind and I feel like crying. No, she wouldn't want me to weep. She'd want me to be strong. She'd want me to win this—for her.

I roll the Chaisle over in my hands, focusing on the details of the weapon. As I practice aiming again, a strange new cloud descends, settling like a soupy mist over the open pen.

I freeze.

The cloud keeps falling, _thickening_ , and rolling in heavy waves of gray around us. Everyone's gone quiet. Everything, still. Squinting, I search for Pratt who stood feet from me just seconds ago. Nothing but thick gray fog surrounds me, swimming so close that I can't see beyond my own nose.

Someone screams.

A pattering of feet sweeps the ground. Raising my Chaisle, I turn, searching, listening. The waves lighten to billowy sheets and only a yard away a distorted image drops perfectly on the ground. It rises to its eight-foot height before snatching another figure—a smaller, frailer silhouette—the two racing back up and disappearing through the whipping wind above. The next minute, a body falls to the ground, smacking it with a hard, gut-wrenching thud.

Another scream.

My heart stops. With the cloud thinning, one by one, limp bodies start falling to the ground, smashing with an unsettling smack—their bones cracking on impact. The entire lot breaks out in a ubiquitous chorus of panicked screams, people running into each other, abandoning their weapons to flee the monstrous silhouettes dropping around us like well-placed bombs.

It takes a moment for the panic to set in.

This is it.

It's happening.

Bodies rush past, _push_ past, nearly knocking me over. Everyone's scattering, unsure where to go and running over the Chaisles and Fiminers that lay abandoned, strewn about the rocky ground. Bodies continue falling and with each one, another Vermix lands to stay, scouring the lot. The closest one lands about two yards away, finding its first victim and encroaching quickly.

Irie only has seconds before he's snapped in two.

The pain spreads through me, but I erase it. Instinctively I raise my Chaisle, aiming for the Vermix. Without hesitating, I squeeze the trigger four times as tiny capsules release, turning to blades that carve through him like knives. I hit him twice in his torso, once in the shoulder and once in the neck. He drops, crashing to the ground.

People fly past, screaming. Quickly scanning for familiar faces, my heart tightens when I don't find any. What happened to Reid? Able? Pratt?

Something whizzes past my nose before the thought envelops me. The girl to my immediate left cries out, her stomach blotched in red. She falls to her knees as another something whizzes by, striking her in the head. She falls over completely, dropping to the ground and dying in a pool of her own blood. This is happening too fast.

I need to think.

We're out in the open—too exposed, too vulnerable. We have to leave this place. But what's safest? Inside the Castle or out in the jungle? Inside would mean barricading ourselves, giving them a centralized target and one quite easy to destroy. But if we split up, disappearing into the jungle, there will be more places to dodge and hide. More ways to escape. And we'd be leading the Dofinikes away, giving the others a chance to find shelter, safety and to regroup. Just as I'm about to yell out the plan, Reid beats me to it.

"The jungle!" he waves his Chaisle toward the lush green ahead.

There's a wave of release at his voice but it lasts only a second. The sight of more Vermix dropping like boulder-sized blockades sends my pulse skyrocketing. Can we even make it? With my heart drumming violently, set to beat its way out of my chest, I grit my teeth and hold on.

Half of us book it, racing as fast as our legs can go and dodging the somethings whizzing by. Bodies fall to the left and right, some plucked from the ground right in front of me, vacuumed up, shrieking and leaving me momentarily frozen in terror. Dread washes over, threatening to still my legs but I push forward.

Faster. Got to keep going faster.

Gripping my Chaisle, I keep it raised to my chest and ready. This is no time to panic—to forget myself. Get to the oncoming greenery, ahead. Just make it that far. People have kept pace with me but I don't risk finding out who. Not yet. Not until I'm safely tucked beneath the jungle's camouflage. An overpowering urge to look for the others emerges but I quickly dismiss it, promising myself a small regroup when hidden away. The best way to help is by staying smart and keeping alive. I can only protect them if I'm alive.

I'm just at the edge of the greenery when I push my way through, flying over the bubbling roots with ease. It's not as difficult as the first time but for someone who's never been out here, it could be just as fatal as the Vermix. My thoughts turn to Pratt. When was the last time I saw her? Before the dust cloud? But she's smart. She'd know to find cover—wherever she is—and keep herself armed. I'll go back for her once I regroup.

Sweeping through the trees—very unlike my first time out here—I find one further in with a wide trunk and stop behind it, catching my breath. The jungle is alive with stomping feet and rustling leaves, screams crying out everywhere now. The pitches, so terrible and shrill, pierce through me. This is it—the second massacre of Harrizel.

But this time, we're prepared. This time, we're fighting back.

Another scream—this one not too far away.

A quick swishing of leaves to my right and a frantic girl flies past, rushing through the oversized greenery as a lone Vermix leaps from trunk to trunk behind her, passing mine without pausing. My heart races, ticking like a time bomb and I hold my breath. Lifting my Chaisle, I wait for him to give me a shot—just one shot. But he soars ahead, pausing on a tree only a few yards from mine. He draws a long black whip and with a loud crack, sends the tail end flying. The rustling ahead ceases.

I bring the Chaisle to my eye, aiming for the middle of his back.

I pull the trigger.

He drops, shaking the leaves on his way down and lands in a hard, grassy thud. Peering out, I survey the stillness, giving it a second. If they let him out as a pawn, to scour the jungle first, the rest will be here any second, ready to exterminate the threat. I give it another moment but nothing happens.

Finally, I dart toward the fallen Vermix, moving through the lush greenery as silently but quickly as possible, surveying the jungle as I go. When I get to the Dofinike, he's out cold, red seeping from the hole in his chest, his hand still clutched around his whip. A Chaisle, like I have, lays tucked onto a strap that crosses his chest diagonally. And on his hip—

A Traxpire!

I snatch it, instantly shocked at its weight. Heavier than I would've thought, the triangular device fits awkwardly in my hand, talon indentions where my fingers grip it. I debate taking his Chaisle and leaving the lethal weapon but decide against it. Even if I haven't practiced with the Traxpire, it's better protection than what I'm carrying now. But I can't leave our Chaisles out in the open and available for a passing Vermix. Taking the Dofinike's Chaisle along with mine, I tuck them behind a nearby bush, camouflaged under long, tongue-shaped yellow leaves.

I start to turn for the Castle but something—the familiar voice in my head—demands I go further, deeper into the jungle. _Right now._ It's the same voice that called me to Ellae, a voice that's both part of me and not. I fly forward at the request, petrified at the immediacy. What's happening? What will I find? I run as quickly as I can, racing over unruly roots and wildly large and overgrown vegetation. The closer I get, the more fear strikes my heart. It's right—whatever the voice is.

I need to be somewhere _right_ now.

Plunging through the wild shrubbery, I immediately halt, hearing sounds just past the tree ahead. Slowing, I peer past the trunk and find Tetlak with one arm raised, ready to strike. I only have a moment to spot Reid. He's feet from Tetlak and empty-handed. The Vermix's talons swing down, sending him soaring to the dirt.

Without thinking, I pull out the Traxpire and squeeze the trigger three times.

Tetlak turns at the sound of the clicks, actual terror emitting from his yellow eyes. He tries jumping back, but a sudden orange flash rips through his right bicep, erupting a tiny explosion in his arm. He yelps, the second and third orange flash ripping inches apart into his shoulder. Two more tiny explosions break through his hardened shell. Tetlak falls to his knees, his unharmed arm clinging to the other as he howls mercilessly.

Reid's eyes fly to mine, soaked in stark bewilderment. Questions flash across his face, so transparent he could be asking them. _Where did she come from? What did she just do? Is Tetlak down for good?_

No, he isn't.

Tetlak's talons grip his shoulder's wound, his chest heaving as he looks at me with ominous eyes. He goes to stand but fumbles again as I keep the weapon pointed at him. It doesn't seem to faze him. As if the only thing that matters is me now. Killing _me_. Tetlak staggers back up as I pull the trigger two more times, missing him once, but hitting his thigh. Another tiny explosion and he falls again, howling with heaving grunts and grabbing for his Chaisle.

I glance to Reid who watches in horror as Tetlak shoots. It whizzes past me and I know I need to run. To lead him away. To the somewhere else I need to be right now. A sting of fear as Tetlak launches himself forward but I turn and run, flying deeper into the jungle. I've left Reid alone but Tetlak's after _me_ now—he won't go back to finish him off. If anything, Tetlak will chase me until I'm dead. Which may be soon.

My heart races, terror and adrenaline pumping. I pray I can make it before he catches me. He's badly wounded, but it may not be enough to keep him down. I don't risk turning to shoot again until I've made it where I need to go. Until I've put enough distance between Reid and us.

Moving swiftly, never faltering, I fly through Ellae and beyond, into the Banyan Trees. I have to go there—I have to lead Tetlak, though I'm not sure why. A symbolic setting for the villain's death? The hero's? He's dragging himself but keeping up, closing the distance between us. But I'm moving fast too. _Very_ fast, almost like the jungle is guiding me, helping me clear her rough terrain.

We're nearly to the disfigured lot when I hear Tetlak's growl approaching dangerously close. A quick shiver creeps down my neck and onto my spine.

Just make it to the lot. Just make it to Raj and the others.

Crashing through, I stop just in front of Hinson's tree, but it doesn't look the same. It's black— _charcoaled_ black. I suppress a gulp realizing everything's like this. All the trees have been burned, including all the bound Kings on the ground between them. What happened?

A lone figure sits hunched in front of Hinson's previous form, his head low and unmoving. Glancing between her charred features and him, I take a cautious step toward Griffin. He looks up at the sound, life drained from his eyes. He automatically lifts his Chaisle, pointing it at me.

"Griffin..." I place my palms up in defense.

He lifts the Chaisle higher and pulls the trigger.

For a second I think I've been shot, but then I hear the thunderous collapse behind me. Spinning, I find Tetlak on the ground, a small hole drilled through the center of his forehead. A perfect shot. Kicking him for final confirmation, his body lies limp, vacant. I grin, turning to Griffin for sincerest gratitude.

The smile's wiped clean.

Griffin's on the ground, shaking violently. He stops suddenly, lying as still as Tetlak. It takes everything I have not to run out to him immediately but instead to wait, wait for the predator to reveal itself. Nothing happens for another ten seconds.

Glancing out first, I dart for Griffin's motionless body, dropping by his head. A single tear rests on his pale cheek, imprinted forever, his eyes open and heartbroken. Wiping my nose, I try to tune out the muffled screams carried throughout the trees. A quick rustling and I jump to my feet. With the Traxpire ready, I keep it aimed to the sounds ahead.

Suddenly, Beshib steps out from between a set of trees, a bundle of babeebs atop his head and two armed Vermix behind him. He doesn't see me at first. In fact, he looks right past, as if searching for something else, something in particular. It takes a moment, but when he spots me, he looks as startled to see me as I am to see him. What do we do here? What's the protocol? Start firing?

I keep aimed between him and the two armed Vermix. Beshib raises his hand, signaling his guards to hold off as he glances at what I'm holding. They lower their weapons, Beshib retuning his focus to me.

"If you fight for us," he steps closer, the same uneasy smile plastered across his face. "You won't have to die. As you can see," he gestures to the lot, "the Vermix have failed in creating an indestructible weapon. But," he perks up, using the same tone he does for Lecture, as if we should be grateful to his bright side of things. "We can still use your help."

Silence.

My finger twitches on the trigger. I should just do it. Right now. One right through his head. The other two would probably just shoot me down—and that'd be fine, because Beshib would be gone. The Arizals would have a chance. And it's not like there's much more to lose right now. Yes, this may be the very way to go. I count myself down when he starts again.

"What do you say?" he slowly strolls the lot with an ease that makes me uncomfortable. "You could still be of use. Not of the best, I must admit. These procedures were one step closer to a Vermix achievement but alas, the mission was to be aborted. All evidence discarded immediately," he pauses, glancing to me again, softening his words so I'd trust him. "You don't have to die in vain. Fight for _us_."

I peek at the Vermix to my right. Not sure why, but I have to indulge Beshib's confession with a response. "Why? So you'll put me out in the front lines to die anyway?"

His smile vanishes, stricken from his mouth as though it never existed. "Okay, you're right. It will delay your death only. It's now or later," he sighs, frustrated I'm wasting his time with something as trivial as my death. "You choose."

The moment has come. The moment when nothing else matters and _everything_ matters. The moment for me to do what I'm supposed to—the one that counts. I aim directly at his heart.

"I choose life," I say when something whistles past my nose, both Vermix suddenly dropping in a colossal heap. It steals my attention for a fraction of a second before Reid leaps through the woods, firing at Beshib who takes his natural form, emerging into a nine-foot Dofinike.

It all happens at once.

Beshib's transformation, his fatal dive toward Reid and the unimagined fear that jolts my body at the sight. Reid's prepared for it though; his Chaisle aimed at Beshib's head but the leaping Vermix knocks the device to the side. He grasps Reid by the neck, holding him up in the air, his talons drawing blood. Reid's feet dangle three feet off the ground, his hands tearing at Beshib's grip around his neck.

I'm too shocked—or maybe too stunned—to move. Too entranced in Reid's struggle, to move my Chaisle. It was going to all end a second ago but now it's different. Now Reid's life is on the line and not mine. What happened? The color begins to leave Reid's face when I snap out of my semi trance, aiming at Beshib's chest again. But I don't have to pull the trigger this time either. Just as my finger goes to move, another Dofinike—larger and familiar—soars through the Banyan trees, knocking Beshib and Reid to the ground.

The two Dofinikes wrestle, Reid rolling to the side, gasping for breath. In an instant, he's on his feet, surveying the match with terrified confusion. He's looking for something, something that should be here. Frantically searching, he glances around and once his eyes settle on me, he takes off at a dead run.

At my side in seconds, he snatches my hand in his and we take off into the trees. "Sampson," he pants before I'm able to ask.

Racing, we make it back to the jungle and in time, to Ellae. The closer we get, the heavier the screams and cries soak the air. I try ignoring it as we jump through overgrown vegetation, his hand slipping from mine every few seconds. But before it's fully free, he tugs me closer to him, squeezing my hand harder. So he won't let go. So he can't lose me.

Shrieks of terror rain overhead, a soundtrack to the impending war scene. Glancing up, as though to locate the sound, I trip, running into the limp body just as I see it. Reid tugs me along and I half sort of jump over her, whoever she was, trying not to place her face which lies in the dirt, her green eyes glazed over. But there's no time for that now. Back to a full-on run, I suppress the rise of bile in my throat. The jungle ground ahead lies littered with bodies. All still. All dead.

Reid does his best to lead us over them while still keeping to our hasty speed. "The others are holing up inside the Auditorium. They're wavering," he pants, "but some Arizals arrived so that's helped."

"How many?"

"Not sure. But they bought us some time. To get the others inside."

"Pratt?"

"Don't know—lost her toward the beginning," he throws me a quick glance, "hoping she'd be with you."

A guilty pain ignites and suddenly I wish I hadn't been so careless with her. So quick to flee to the jungle alone after the fog lifted. There's no time to process the horrible possibilities, no time to wonder _what if_?

I suppress the thought completely, dodging the bodies on the ground and jumping over more unruly roots. Reid's squeezing my hand just as something hard knocks into my side.

I'm thrown, Reid's touch disappearing completely. I hit the ground with a heavy smack, rolling through the fauna which slaps my face with its overgrown foliage. I crash into something hard and it slams me in the back, all air gushing at the impact. For a split second, I think I'm dead. Then just paralyzed. A quick wiggle to my toes secures my relief.

How did I survive that?

Barely able to pull myself to my feet, I see him charging on all fours. He's hunting me—a predator closing in on its prey. My heart races, thumping rapidly and threatening to explode from the promise of painful death. Still throbbing all over, I take aim at the impending Vermix with the Traxpire, ready for the end.

But before I'm able to shoot, Reid flies out, his Chaisle firing as he jumps around the Vermix. The Dofinike turns, swiping at him but Reid's too quick, ducking and rolling onto the ground and under his slicing talons. On his feet again, he caps the Vermix in his shoulder, thigh and knee, retreating before he can fall over him or retaliate. But lucky for Reid, the Vermix falls to his good knee, then down to the ground in a heavy heap.

With the Vermix struggling to stand, Reid takes his chance. Dashing over to me, he snatches my hand in his, yanking me to follow. We flee from the scene, straight for a familiar tree with an unusual layered trunk. Reid draws back the hidden door with his free hand, plunging down the wooden stairs and into the immense darkness, me at his heel.

We race forward into the pitch black without the slightest hesitation. We haven't made it far when a flash of sunlight swims over us, quickly followed by heavy tracks smacking the wooden ground. Glancing over my shoulder, I see him coming. Unwilling to give up, to allow us our leave, he drags himself with a heavy limp, snarling with dogged pursuit as his bloodied talons clutch his gushing wounds.

Suddenly, a black whip flies between us, slicing open my forearm. A long red gash runs from my elbow to my wrist, the skin separating with a nasty hiss. Crying out at the agonizing sting, I snatch my hand back on impulse, tucking it into me.

Irate at our loss of contact, Reid trades the Traxpire from my hand for his Chaisle. Unloading it on the impending Vermix, Reid fires, lighting the tunnel with the fiery explosions. The Dofinike fumbles, falling to his knees as tiny bursts of orange erupt throughout his stomach. Once he's still, Reid gestures to my arm, panting. "Let me see."

He rips off his sleeve, using the fabric to construct a bandage and applies it to the gaping gash in my arm. The sting is nearly unbearable, but I grit my teeth at the tug of the material. Tearing his second sleeve free, he wraps the red gash until it's covered. He takes a moment in tending to me, before slipping his hand in mine again, taking off.

Only seconds in, more sunlight hits the tunnel behind us as the pattering of multiple pairs of feet echo. With my heart thundering at the possibility of dying down here, in the dark, I squeeze Reid's hand tighter, my arm throbbing in response. He squeezes back, clutching me in his grip like we're glued together, like we're one extended person.

Refusing to slow down, he takes tunnel after tunnel, the growling snarls following, _gaining_. My body is aching from being thrown, from the searing heat still pulsating up my left forearm and the overall exhaustion. But adrenaline, the _need_ to survive this keeps me moving, keeps me following Reid, wherever he's leading us.

Pushing faster, turning left, then right and selecting tunnels without so much as a second's hesitation, I'm not sure Reid knows where he's going. We could be moving absentmindedly just to flee the Vermix, or he could know each and every turn down here. Regardless, I'm right behind him, on his heel, keeping so close he barely has to tug me at all.

At one point he stops, tucking me into one of the carved tunnels as two Vermix fly past, ignorant to our whereabouts. Trying to conceal my winded breath, I wait for their hungry, vicious sounds to die off. They keep rushing around—traveling in circles by the sound of it—their growls disappearing until they're no longer audible.

Suppressing my heavy panting, Reid takes my hand again, leading us out silently. We move through each passageway creeping slowly, every once in a while hearing a screaming Dofinike, lost in the labyrinth. When the sound draws close, Reid presses me against the wall or into a nearby tunnel to hide long enough for the sounds to pass. Then, when they've wandered off again, down another wrong turn, Reid starts, leading us back. We travel like this, in and out of the frantic Dofinike wails, back toward the base of the Castle. Heading for the Auditorium, we take the route to the West Wall, Reid's grip on me so tight he could break my bones.

Flying through the narrow, marble corridor, Reid stops at the door. He slips it open with ease before I'm even able to see the outline. Once I'm through, he closes off the exit, racing through the Maze with me at his heel.

Have to get to the center.

Emerging from the Maze, a relieved wave washes over me. There are more people than I expected, most clustered around the central glowing trunk, huddled together with terrified eyes. Tucker and the Rogues line up at all stairwells, a number of others just behind them, all firing at the oncoming Vermix who are slowly fighting their way in.

Whips and talons fly through the air, descending down the stairs but the Clansmen and others manage to hold them off. Some people shift back and forth between the battle and the middle of the room, arguing with themselves on whether or not they want to help. Should they? _Can_ they even? The others grasp one another, quieting screams and calming cries.

"This way," Reid takes off in a run, crossing the Auditorium floor in seconds.

I follow, glancing to the hoards of bodies huddled together, screaming in terror. All unarmed, they're dead in seconds if the Vermix push their way through. Like sitting ducks—there'd be nothing we can do, no way to stop their imminent death. This thought runs over in my head as we catch up with Tucker who pulls away just as we approach.

"Not for much longer," he pants in response to something unasked, "our boys are taking a beating. Almost out of ammo... any idea when the reinforcements are coming?"

"They should be here," Reid shakes his head, "but we didn't get a look on our way in."

"Well," Tucker wipes his brow with the back of his forearm, "they better hurry or we'll be overrun here in a second."

"That's why we should get them out of here," I warn, motioning to the large group behind us, then to the Vermix doggedly busting down the stairwells. "If _they_ get in here, everyone unarmed is dead. We have to get them out."

"How?" both ask in unison.

"Through the passage," I glance to the entrance Reid and I just took, "we can lead them down there to wait it out... at least until more reinforcements come. The Vermix don't know about it so they'll be safe."

Reid and Tucker both look to each other for confirmation then back to me with a nod. "Okay."

They don't ask me, but since it's my idea, this responsibility lies solely on my shoulders. Fleeing immediately, I head for the mass of terrified people clustered around the trunk. Flagging my arms, I raise my voice so all can hear.

"Listen up!"

They award me sole attention, hope in their eyes I'm here to deliver good news.

"I'm going to take you somewhere the Vermix can't find you. It's only for a short while and only because you're unarmed. You stand a better chance if you hide. Follow me," I sprint for the West Wall, a heavy rhythmic pattering of feet behind me. The pattering turns to a stampede as I glance over my shoulder and see the entire mass flying in my direction.

Moving through the Maze, they follow in earnest, the quick shuffling of feet trailing far behind me. I should concentrate on which turns to take, which passages to avoid but somehow, I already know it. It's like I'm being led there from the inside, from some blueprint already in my blood.

We reach the exit and I push the door open, sliding it back.

"Hold hands with the person next to you," I say to a petrified redhead who looks like she's about to break down. Indicating the person next to her—a boy equally terrified—I look back to the redhead, "When he tugs your hand, stop walking and don't go any farther."

She nods, moving into the tunnel. I motion the person behind her, indicating I want him to do the same thing. I repeat the request down the line every few people, making sure others hear the plan as well. By the time I get to the end, nearly half are through the tunnel, everyone moving quickly.

"When you get through, close the door and stay there," I explain to the last person, a boy no older than Pratt, "pull your neighbor's hand so they know to stop walking."

He nods and I race back out of the Maze. Running back to help the others, a new horror chills me. One by one, Vermix appear in the four nearly invisible evibolas across the walls.

"Reid!" I scream, pulling my Chaisle free.

He turns but I shift focus immediately, to the nearest Dofinike launching himself in a cat-like run. I don't have time to react. I just _do_. Finding the trigger comfortably, I pull it back in three quick clicks. The Dofinike falls to the ground before he gets within ten feet of me. Others leap toward in me in a similar fashion, narrow yellow eyes set and ready. Letting whatever instinct it is take over, I shoot a few more Vermix the same way I shot the first—but there are too many. Too many swarming like hungry dogs on a piece of prime meat. And it's now I realize it.

I'm going to die.

Right here—in the mob of Vermix about to pull me limb from limb. This is the end. Not some meaningful death like killing Beshib first. But by being ambushed, by being outsmarted by the enemy in such a foolishly obvious way. Is this really how it concludes? _Here_? Like this? My heart skips so fast, I think it might implode. The Vermix are almost upon me but if this is how it ends, I'm taking as many of them as I can with me. Give the others the best chance they've got.

Bracing myself for the inevitable pain sure to follow, I focus on the closet Vermix. His eyes enlarge to the only thing in sight, the two inch space between them like a field of green to aim at. It becomes the only thing that's important.

As I pull the trigger in the comfortable three click segment I've grown accustomed to, his eyes suddenly widen before dropping completely, along with the weight of his falling body. I move to the next closest Vermix, then the next, always shooting in my three click segment as one by one they fall. I know my death is upon me—and I accept that—but after a few seconds, I grow anxious.

Nothing's happening.

It doesn't come. I keep shooting the Vermix until it does, anticipating the sudden strike that'll leave me broken-necked and still. But the Vermix start dropping of their own accord, something else collapsing them to the marble floor. With my Chaisle raised and aimed, I watch as the nearest Dofinike springs for me, tiny blades carving through his temple and neck. He drops in a massive heap as I turn to the next Vermix. But he too fumbles to the ground. I turn again, looking for the next Vermix but find Reid racing toward me instead.

Face white with panic, he collides into me, panting from the dash. "You okay?"

I nod, unable to form the words I need. How did that happen? The hoard of descending Vermix lie sprawled on the marble floor, a few still alive, twitching. I only killed a few so what happened to the rest of them? Surely Reid didn't kill them all by himself? Glancing past his shoulder, Tucker, Jace and the rest of the Rogues stand pointed in our direction, guns and Chaisles now lowering to the ground. There's nothing at the stairwell anymore, no Vermix pushing their way in. How can that be?

"Reinforcements just arrived," Reid explains, slipping his hand in mine and pulling me toward one of the stairwells.

"How many?"

"Enough," he pants, leaping over Vermix corpses.

I'm behind him but hesitant about leaving the people downstairs alone. What if a stray Vermix goes wandering and finds them? Who am I kidding—they're probably the safest people on Harrizel at this very moment. But Pratt wasn't with them and this thought brings a new pain.

Pushing it from mind, we race through the Rogues' border and up the stairs, Jace at my right, the other Clansmen joining our heels with ferocity as we storm the Courtyard. We reach it just in time to see the majority of Vermix pushed back, just outside of the Portcullis and into the open pen surrounded by trenches. A few small duels remain inside the Courtyard—all consisting of sparring Dofinikes.

I don't know who's who—Vermix or Arizal? They move so swiftly, it's hard to catch a decent glimpse of their faces. But really... how are we supposed to know?

I turn to ask Reid just as the closest duel resolves itself. The smaller of the two springs on the other's back, offering a vicious combination of sharp jabs and finally renders the larger Dofinike immobile. He falls to the checkered ground with a thunderous smack as dust flies from the weight of his impact.

Tensing for the onslaught of combat, I reach for my Chaisle. The victor glances over us momentarily, a flicker of curiosity before setting off in a cat-like run to help other Dofinike duels lingering in the Courtyard. I only had a minute to see it before he fled, but he had the same marking as on Reid's chest—the circle with alternating dots. And, like with Reid's, it sits in the same spot, high on his right pectoral, engraved in his hardened shell.

I want to stay and watch the remaining duels but we're moving again, charging the portcullis. As we arrive, the Arizals have pushed them back— _all_ the way back—so now the fighting remains mainly in the outside pen. Tucker and the Rogues run past, to either side of the Castle's arched entranceway, weapons drawn and ready. Reid and I are right behind them, hooking to the right to take our positions, though the Dofinikes seem to be handling themselves well, going at each other without any concept of our presence.

I watch in awe as eight to ten foot masses claw at each other with razor sharp talons and eyes intent on slashing their opponent open. Reid's arm projects out, locking me back, behind him. As if I'd go any closer. There's not much we can do except keep aim and be ready to fire when an Arizal needs help.

I hold my breath.

Is there a chance—even one in the slightest—that we could win this thing? _Really_ win? The possibility consumes me. I was sure I'd die—several times—but I'm still here. Still fighting. In a battle we could very well win. A small smile creeps across my face until my eyes roam the ground littered with lifeless limbs and I'm reminded of Pratt. Even if we win, how much have we lost to get there?

Quickly scanning the faces on the ground, I'm distracted by a new pair of opponents, rolling from the brush and toward the open wrought iron gate. It takes a second but as they draw nearer, I recognize them and their violent duel from earlier.

Leaping to their feet, they launch themselves at one another. The smaller, more panicked one, bounds through the gate, Sampson on his tail. The rest of the fighting stops at their arrival, everything going silent.

By the looks of it, Sampson and Beshib are pretty worn out.

Patches of swollen green skin protrudes from shoulders and several shelled plates leak red syrup. Both snarling, Beshib favors his left leg while Sampson, equally impaired, keeps his right eye closed. Panting, Beshib twists to the side, aware all eyes are on him. Sampson, who seems less out of breath, watches with curiosity rather than fear, as if unaware he's in a fight. As if this is just an exercise for him—an experiment—one he can end any time.

But if that's the case, why not kill Beshib out in the woods? End it so he can get back here and help the others? But with all eyes—Dofinike and human —staring down this battle, proud to witness such an event, it makes sense. Why hide a symbolic death like that in the dark for only the shadows to witness? No, Sampson waited to deliver his final strike for a moment like this. When all eyes—Arizal and Vermix—are upon him, so that they may see exactly what he wants them to.

Beshib twists back toward Sampson, a tiny, rickety knife grasped in his talons. As he turns, intending to jab it straight through Sampson's temple, Beshib stops, suddenly frozen. The rickety knife drops and for a minute, I'm not sure what happened.

Sampson wasn't holding anything, was he?

Repositioning myself to see better, I almost gasp when I take it in—Sampson's talons shoved deep into the soft pit of Beshib's belly. No knife, no weapon, just his hand, as if holding onto something inside his opponent's quivering body. Once the knife hits the ground, it only takes a second more for Sampson to rip the spine free from Beshib's twitching shell. Only a part of the bones emerge but it's enough to hear the snap as Beshib folds back on himself, crashing to the ground with a heavy, mountainous smack.

For a moment it's silent.

The Vermix start ascending, quick to abandon the fight, the battle for them clearly lost. The ground is suddenly free of half the Dofinikes, the other half stopping and staring at Sampson who stands tall and victorious. The Arizals don't chase after the fleeing Vermix, but instead, walk silently toward Sampson, their heads bowed.

"Fychu," the first one drops to his left knee, resting his elbow on his right. Clenching his talons in a fist, he holds them to his brow. "Fychu, _Saya Saya_..."

He stands and the next Arizal repeats the gesture as a line forms to bow before Sampson, offering him their knee like some sort of fealty. This goes on until every one of the Arizals has completed the gesture, even Clarence who approaches in human form.

The two look at each other, smiling. They turn to us, the remaining line of humans. Sampson offers the slightest of nods and I know.

It's over for now.

#  Chapter Thirty: Departures

We actually _won_.

The second battle of Harrizel is over and we somehow managed to fight through, to win our freedom and send the Vermix fleeing. Of course there are casualties. Too many, in fact. A little less than half the human population remains and scattered among the bodies, a few fallen Arizals too.

Thank God Clarence scooped Pratt up almost near the beginning and took her, like many others, to the opposite side of Harrizel. He took large groups at first, still strong enough to carry up to five or six at a time. But after the seventh or eighth trip was made, when a Vermix momentarily intervened and slashed his arm, Clarence could only take one to two at a time. But he continued, relentlessly searching through the jungle and open lot. Thanks to him, many were saved. But not everyone's been accounted for.

Vix, for instance, is still missing. Was she taken back? To be used as a hostage by the Vermix? I tossed the theory at Sampson but he explained that Dofinikes were not the type to take prisoners, not unless it was someone of high ranking, like a Leader who'd have to await a trail. Beshib, _possibly_ Sampson would be the type of Dofinike to be captured. But not Vix. She wouldn't be of much importance to Reuzkimpart, not when we're planning on leaving Harrizel soon.

She's also not one of the slain Dofinikes littering the ground either.

"You can tell," Sampson explains, walking me outside to view a corpse, "this is a Vermix." He points at the three red lines on the back of the Vermix's neck, "This red is not natural. It's a dye they consume as a right to be part of it, initiated at the proper age."

"But you were a Vermix?"

"Yes," Sampson agrees, staring off at the setting sun, "and I will forever bear the mark."

He's in his head again, lost in the despair that consumes him, eating away like a parasite to an unyielding host.

"Sampson..." I need to know, unsure why it's taken me so long to find out, "something happened at the massacre. You said Clarence hid something. But you never mentioned where _you_ were..." a little voice tells me it's none of my business and to drop it, but a stronger, more curious part pushes that this may be the key to it all.

"When the time is right," he nods to himself, his eyes lost ahead.

He starts to turn but I want to keep him here, talking. There are too many things still left unanswered. Quickly, I reach for another topic, one that's been eating away at me since we first decided we'd fight back.

"I'm confused..." I admit before he's made it a few steps. "You told us you couldn't leave... that bad things would happen if you did."

"Yes," he pauses. "Had I simply up and left, Clarence would've been killed and I for him, if he'd decided never to return."

"Why didn't you both just leave?"

"There are... other reasons..." he's still wary about sharing this information. Staring off into the jungle ahead, he's lost in its serene image. "But when I spoke to Blovid the night you told me what you'd found, he said it was the very thing needed to spark it... and it did. The crack in Dellapalania finally split wide open. Up until then, the Civil War was underground, unacknowledged since the Glass Chamber incident. It increased with Ellae's massacre but this," he gestures around us, "when you told me about the experiments here, about what you found... that's what really did it. Dellapalania is officially at war with itself, both sides coming out into the open. And with the spread of Arizals rising up against the Vermix, Blovid informed me what was previously told no longer applied."

"Which was?"

Sampson shakes his head, staring to walk away, "I'm sorry, Fallon but I cannot—"

"Wait," I round in front of him again, "just... if you can't tell me that, can you at least tell me why Ellae is so familiar to me? Why do I feel like I've been here before? Like..." I gulp, all my questions rushing forward, "like it's part of me? I know you know. _Please_ tell me."

Sampson narrows his eyes. "I would assume you figured that out by now."

Figured what out? I have a connection to Ellae—I get that. But what? And why? Have they brought me here before? Or maybe I _was_ here, but in a past life or something. Maybe that's why I see glimpses of the way it was—because that's when I was here? I'm not sure, so I give Sampson the best answer I have.

"I'm connected to it."

"More than you know."

"But how? _Why_?"

"It is not for me to disclose," he starts for the Castle, throwing me a look over his shoulder, "but, when the time is right, you will understand."

I'm about to storm over, demanding he tell me the truth, when he pauses and motions to an Arizal—one of the few left behind—to continue checking the jungle for survivors. Almost all of the other Arizals left right after the battle, rejoining Blovid in his flight, but a few, like the one Sampson has scouring the green ahead, remain to assist further.

Sampson makes his way back for the Castle, moving slowly and with exhausted strides. I'm dying to understand the connection—what does it mean? Why won't he tell me?—but my thoughts turn to his involvement instead. I'm not sure why, but I have to know what happened—what his part is in all of this. He must've had a life here. A family. How did he describe it?

This paradise. This island for runaways, for those not wanting to be found.

But if that's the case, why wouldn't he want to be found? Because he was an Arizal? Or was it something else? What was he running from? A flood of questions consumes me, drawing me deeper into Sampson's mysterious past when a friendly voice breaks my concentration.

"Fallon!" Pratt calls.

Spinning, I find her leading Reid, Tucker, Clark and Jace toward me. With exhausted steps, I meet them half way.

"How's your arm?" I focus on Pratt's right side. Her hand cups her back bicep where white cotton gauze has been wrapped. A blotch of red peeks behind her palm but she's quick to cover it. " _Much_ better."

Reid turns to me with a serious face. "Clark wants to go home now. Clarence is considering addressing the survivors about their return options tonight..." he glances to an infuriated Clark then back to me, "seems his decision is contingent upon _your_ opinion."

Giving it no more than a second, I shake my head decisively. "No."

"No?" Clark gripes, his face turning red. " _No_?"

"No. It's too early. Jeez—give everyone a break. Give Sampson and Clarence the night to recoup."

"It's not my fault! I should've never been here to begin with! I _deserve_ to go back!"

"And you will," I grind my teeth, "but now's not the time."

"Come on, Reid," Clark tries, desperation in his eyes. "Don't you want to go home?"

Reid struggles for a moment with his response, clearing his voice. "Fallon's right. Let's take the night to rest... Clarence will address it tomorrow."

Clark lets out an exhausted scoff, spins and storms away without so much as a goodbye.

"Dude," Jace laughs once he's yards away. "Why'd you hang with him? Guy's a spaz."

"He was Sampson's only other confidant at the time," Reid shrugs. "Didn't really have much say in the matter."

"Blows," Jace shakes his head.

"Yeah. So listen, we'll push the return stuff for tomorrow..."

"Hey!" Pratt interrupts, "How's your arm?" She glances to the fresh bandage running from my elbow to my wrist.

"Still functioning," I demonstrate rotating my wrist.

"You see the size of those whips?" Pratt asks. "Lucky he didn't take your arm off."

"Death count first, I think," Reid withdraws back to the Castle, the rest of us following. He's turned to Tucker but speaks loud enough for everyone to hear. "We need to know where we stand. Then Clarence can make the announcement tomorrow for all those who want to go back and those who..." he picks his words carefully, "...are staying. Maybe transport can be scheduled for the following day."

"Yeah, if Clark doesn't have a panic attack first," Pratt laughs.

I'd return it if I wasn't so distracted by everything else, especially with how Reid won't look at me. It is, after all, business at this point. He's just following the agenda like planned and can I blame him for that? Can I harbor any ill will toward him for just wanting to get this over with, like me?

"I'm going to let Clarence know," Reid takes off. "Later."

Jace smiles. "You ladies mind if we take off?"

"Go," I nudge him on. "Whatever you need to do."

He winks and then disappears, Tucker along with him.

Once they're gone and we're alone, I glance to Pratt who's already grinning. "You look like you need to hear something funny."

"Got anything?" I ask.

"Well, just this. When Clarence took me to the other side of Harrizel, Clark was already there..."

I wait a second, letting the anticipation build, "And...?"

"And crying like a baby! One or two Vermix landed nearby so Clarence had to fight them off. I was able to help a little—I shot one so that he fell and Clarence had the upper hand," she smiles proudly of the fact, "but Clark hid behind me the whole time! He acted tough when we took control of the Castle but put him in front of a few Vermix—he'll wet his pants! "

The humorous image of a cowering Clark fills my mind with ease. Pratt's right—I did need to hear something funny.

"Thanks," I throw my arm around her shoulder, leading us back toward the Castle.

Evening turns into night quickly. We collectively agree to retire and start again in the morning, after everyone's rested and has a clear head. Tomorrow we'll do a body count and figure out what's what. I head to the Bathing Bubble and stay longer than I should, partly afraid to leave. The protection of it, the warmth—all gone the second I step out. But after a while, my body's exhaustion over rides it's need for physical comfort and I finally leave, heading for my bunker again.

Many have chosen not to sleep in their rooms, a testament to their new found freedom. They stay with others in their bunkers or, as most are, down in the Auditorium, like its one massive sleepover. I'm not in the mood to be with anyone and even though my room has been my prison cell here this whole time, it's still _mine_. Heading down the corridor for my bunk, I stop.

Reid's there, outside the door, waiting. My heart pauses, all air gone. Are we doing this _now_? Can't it wait a night? Like everything else? I reason that it's probably better to get it over with faster. Reaching the door I stop and force a smile."No sirolla?"

He pulls it from his pocket, holding the marble-sized sphere between two fingers. "Didn't want to be rude."

"So you're learning?"

"Guess it's never too late, right?" his mouth curves into the grin that melts me. He glances down, eyeing the bandage. "How's your arm _really_?" he steps closer, igniting the familiar heat, "and don't give me a Pratt answer. I'm serious."

"Hurts like a bitch," I find myself laughing. I try to calm the real pain raging through my veins. Does he know what it's doing to me? Being this close and not being able to touch him? "I'll survive."

"I'm sure you will."

_What's taking so long? Just do it already. Tell me you choose_ her _. Tell me._

"Anyway..." he clears his throat. "You can always put some more Vilbrees on it."

"I did."

"But..." and now he's stalling, "it can only do so much. Pratt was right—you're lucky it didn't slice off your arm. It's going to leave a nasty scar."

"Well..." I search for an appropriate response, "thanks for cheering me up."

Do it. Just do it already.

"Fallon..." he leans closer.

"Please just... I can't," I inhale, doing everything in my system not to break down.

His brows furrow at my response as he shifts just inches closer—my heart threatening to explode from this agony. Can't we make this quick? As painless as possible? Why is he dragging it out? He shifts closer but I put a hand up to stop him, panicked.

"Let me..."

"Please..." I whisper, aching. "Just..."

"This is impossible to understand," he runs his hands through his hair. "You've got to give me... time to figure it out."

What does _that_ mean?

"You need... _time_?" I ask. Something about that sounds hopeful but the look in his eye says otherwise.

"To adjust. Everything's just so fresh right now, like it was yesterday. There's that life," he gestures to me, "and there's this one."

A painful spark of possibility emerges.

"Can you do that?" he continues, his eyes cast downward. "Can you give me some time?"

"For what?"

He wants to explain but doesn't. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and my eyes drop to the Callix he's withdrawing. He leans in and my heart stops, my body growing rigid. He slips the Callix into my hand and lightly brushes his lips against my cheek with the softest of kisses. I'm melting, my legs weak beneath me. Moving his mouth over my ear, he whispers in a language I don't know, but somehow, deeply recognize.

" _Maya vu saplora."_

I want to turn and kiss him but I can't. I can't even move. Reid closes my hand around the Callix and without another word, pulls away, leaving me in silence.

He walks down the corridor without turning around. Not when he gets to the stairs, nor as he descends, disappearing below. I gulp, opening my hand to his Callix, my heart thundering at its sight. Leaning back on my door, I replay the whole thing, the intimacy of his touch, his words and this—this token. But I don't understand. He told me he can't... and now he's giving me his Callix? Does that mean he's staying? Or needs time to decide _if_ he's staying?

It's too much to digest right now, too much to think about after everything that's happened. The only thing I can handle is sleep, drifting away from this place where the suffocating squeeze in my chest will fade and in its absence, hopefully will be peace.

Bringing Reid's Callix with me into bed, I climb beneath the covers, blacking out the moment my head hits the pillow.

***

We've been working all morning and finally, now, in the early afternoon, we're finished with it—the death count. Honestly, it's better than I expected: one hundred and thirty-two humans dead, thirty-five Dofinikes in total. But like Vix, some people are still missing. Like Walker and Able. Their bodies haven't been accounted for and they're definitely _not_ around here so...have they escaped somehow? And to where?

We give the numbers to Sampson and Clarence who have everyone gathered in the Auditorium. Most people arrive fresh from the Bathing Bubble, taking advantage of it as often as possible now. After a morning of moving bodies, the stench of death clings to your clothes and no one wants to carry that scent into the afternoon.

There's a little less than three hundred people here, some bandaged, while others hobble to one another with makeshift canes. Reid stands with the Rogues and Scouts, surrounding the glowing trunk, the other survivors just behind them. Clarence and Sampson stand amongst the glowing green, back to their human form.

"Please," Sampson says, his voice echoing through the hall as everyone grows silent. "I want to thank you all for your hard work. I'm sure these past few days have not been the easiest you've had to deal with. But you fought well and in that fight you persisted. And here we are, at the other side, the moment many of you have been eagerly awaiting—when you find out about going home."

It's as if he's said the magic phrase because the room inhales in one simultaneous breath.

"You'll be returned to the exact moment you were taken—the moment just before Clarence appeared. You will have no recollection of him or of anything here. It'll be as if..."

"...as if it never happened," Clarence continues. "No memories whatsoever. You'll be there in that last moment and you'll start again, continuing on as usual, without the slightest idea anything happened. Once we take you back," Clarence inhales, locking eyes as he scans the crowd. "Harrizel will cease to exist for you, forever."

Whispers erupt as Sampson and Clarence retreat, just enough room for Tucker who suddenly appears atop the trunk with them.

"I'm sure by now you've all made your mind up about going home. But for those still unsure or for the other five percents out there, let me assure you—you have a place here. We have a small human guild which will continue on with the Arizals and we welcome anyone interested."

He nods to the other two before jumping down to the Rogues again.

"We ask that you spend one more night here at which time tomorrow, Clarence and I will begin retuning you home. We'll go by names— _real_ last names—and it shouldn't take more than a day's time," he begins to pace, cuffing his wrists at the small of his back. "Your clothes will be returned to you this afternoon, along with any former possessions still intact. Be ready when it's your turn—we're starting early, before sunrise with A-C," he says, as I detect an excited smile quickly sweeping Clark's face, "If you intend to go home, please be on time."

I pass the rest of the day between the solitude of my bunker and strolling the jungle's edge to peek past the net of ivy. Back and forth, back and forth, for hours and hours, peering into the lush fauna, to all the things this jungle's been to me. An escape. A nightmare. And most recently, a warzone.

I'm tempted to venture back, but I don't. Sampson says there will be plenty of time for that later, when we've finished returning the humans home. Once we're back on schedule with the Arizals, we'll be able to leave at our will, once Blovid sends his secured location. Until then—everyone needs to stay at the Castle or risk going missing.

"Who knows what's still out there lurking," he says, "besides, we can't afford to lose anyone else."

I do as he says, always wishing for Ellae's comforting arms to protect me as my left hand softly grazes the closest strands of foliage—tips of the giant tongue-sized leaves. I barely feel them.

Can you do that? Can you give me some time?

If all he needs is time, that should mean he's staying. Or that he needs time to choose. Her or me. That life or this one. Andrew... or Reid?

How is this all going to turn out? Where do we go from here? There are too many things to have answered and all I want to do is escape into Ellae. I need something comfortable and soothingly familiar and Granny Ruth isn't here to make it better. And I need her. Even as Fallon, I need her. Trailing outside the jungle's barrier—the best I can do—I wait. And wonder.

***

The next day is here and I awake on my own. I've been half awake for hours, unable to drift into the sleep I'm still so eagerly craving. Just too anxious about the day I guess, about the weight it'll bring as I watch each of the ninety-five percent leave one by one. By the end of the day, the Castle will be lighter by more than half of its human population —who knows, maybe more.

The small window in my bunker still shines with star-light. It's probably just before dawn, when they said they'd be starting. A shuffle of feet scurry outside my door and I know they're heading outside, the first lot to bid the rest of this place farewell forever.

I'm not sure why, but I have to see. To escape this pretend sleep and face the day. Going to join the shuffle outside, I realize I never changed back into my other clothes. Out of habit, or, due largely to the exhausted stupor that was last night, I slinked back into my scrubs by mistake. Throwing them off with near malice—as if it stings to the touch—the garments fly to the floor, discarded. I grab my gray and black baseball tee and pull it on over my head. I step into my jeans and put my Converse on next. Tying my laces in rapid haste, I jump up and head out, joining the skinny herd of travelers. _Not going to watch all day_ , I tell myself, _just the first few._

I'm not expecting a large crowd, but when I find around thirty bodies in the lot, I'm taken aback. These can't all be people with last names A-C. I do a quick scan and find Pratt hugging a girl to the far right as Clark rolls on his heels not too far away. He's watching Clarence and Sampson with dedicated focus. The rest stand huddled, grouped together in their own clothing which vary from pajamas, school clothes and work uniforms.

I feel I should go over and say something to Clark—goodbye, probably—but I don't. My feet remain planted and I realize that I don't want to say goodbye. I'd rather leave it on the last note, as if we could pick up again, whenever we like.

With the sky still a deep bluish-black and the pink warmth of the sun mere minutes away, I find refuge in the familiar stroll from yesterday. Crossing everyone, I leave the gate, keeping to the jungle's edge, following it. A protective coat of solitude forms, separating me from the others but still, I watch.

At Clarence's command, everyone lines themselves up eagerly. Sampson motions for Pratt's friend to step closer and offering Pratt a final squeeze, she complies. After taking in the sight of the Castle one final time, she turns, obeying Sampson. Grasping hands, the pair shoot into the sky so quickly I think I've missed it. Clarence motions an eager Clark closer and the two grab hands as well. I take a breath, watching the elation on Clark's face until they spring up, disappearing from sight.

He's gone.

I pace for a few hours, from one end of the Castle to the other, watching the departures leave one by one. Always the same excited face, the instant flight up and then the five minute lapse until Sampson or Clarence returns alone.

I was only going to watch the first few but there's something addictive about it. About the unmasked jubilance as each person steps up and offers their hand. As if seeing the elation on each leaving face will make it bearable when the time comes to watch him go.

The sun's hanging on the opposite side of the sky and they're finishing with the P's. Clarence and Sampson just took a break about twenty minutes ago so they'll move right along without interruption. Nearly onto the R's, my eyes find Reid immediately, over by the Water Pole, standing with Tucker. I've kept him in my view since this morning when he emerged just minutes after me. He knows where I am as well, having snuck a few glances my way when he hoped I'd be watching the departures.

Sampson addresses the humble crowd as he does with every letter, pronouncing it loud enough so everyone can hear. "And now for the _R's_ , please."

My heart races, my eyes flying to Reid again.

This is it.

But he remains where he is, standing next to Tucker, his arms folded over his chest and watching the others step forward. The R's line themselves up and for a quick second, my thoughts turn to Raj. A rush of guilt pours over me knowing that if I could've helped her—could've _saved_ her—she'd be here too, waiting to go home. But Raj's parents will never see her again. They'll never know what actually happened to her.

One by one, each of the R's are taken back, the line growing shorter and shorter. My heart thumps rapidly—the worse pain ever—as only a handful remain. Maybe Reid is saving himself for last, paying the final compliment to let others go before him. Clutching his Callix in my hand like a lifesaver, I hold my breath and watch as the last person flies into the sky with Clarence.

Sampson glances around the absent line for a moment. "And now for the _S's_ , please."

As I let out a sigh of relief, Reid's eyes flicker to me, but only for a second. Just long enough to see me. He looks away and turns to leave with Tucker, the two lost in conversation as they head back to the Castle.

Can you do that? Can you give me some time?

If he's choosing this life, how much time does he need? Something in my gut tells me I'll know when he comes to me. Even with Reid gone, I remain here, pacing and watching the departures as I have all day, watching how they shoot up into the air and never return again. They're going back to what they know, to what they live for. And I don't have to return anywhere for that.

After they get through with everyone and Clarence and Sampson have returned to the Castle, I retire to the Bathing Bubble for far too long. But with the base practically empty and just about everyone gone, there's no one to complain. Climbing into bed and having not spoken a word to anyone all day, I fall into a deep sleep of books and trees and the sound of wind chimes...

It's morning again and I'm one of a handful still waking up here. Everyone else is gone, back to their lives without a single memory of this place. They have no idea what's happened to them or how lucky they are to be standing where they are. I wish they still knew though, still had their memories of this place, so we'd all be linked together forever—the survivors of Harrizel. But even if I wanted to say one last thing to Clark—get in one final good jab—I couldn't. He wouldn't remember me. To him, I'm just some face in his dreams, some question he'll never be able to quite answer, or understand.

Sitting up, I stretch and look around.

It's my last day here. Sampson said we'd stay until everyone was taken back and I'm pretty sure they finished last night. Strange. As much as I'm ready to leave, part of me wants to stay right here on Harrizel forever. For Raj and Hinson and all the others, all those who came, never to leave again.

I get to my feet, dress and head toward the open lot downstairs. A larger group than I expect awaits me by the iron-gate. Sampson, Clarence, Reid, Tucker, Jace, Pratt, Booker, Werzo and someone else, some new female face stand in a disorganized line, watching as Clarence makes his way toward me. He's in the same green sweater and khaki pants that he wore the first time we met, when I'd just woken up.

"Ready to go?"

"Are the others?" I ask.

"Just waiting on you, darling, but we'll have to travel a little heavier," he motions to the others, all equipped with rifles. He looks back to me. "Turns out your AK is pretty powerful."

"And your whips as well," I present the bandage running from my elbow to wrist.

"Vermix defenses," he shakes his head. "That's why we'll need to be prepared."

"Is there still a threat? We'll need to be armed at all times?"

"Well, we can do it the smart way or..."

He's right. There's no way to tell if Reuzkimpart left a few Vermix scattered throughout the jungle, waiting to ambush or attack again. There's also the possibility of the few that got trapped in the underground labyrinth finding their way out. Sampson said it was a definite possibility and it's exactly why he didn't want me running off into Harrizel's jungle alone. And it's not like we can leave right now—we don't know where we're going.

Unlike earlier, Blovid's location is currently moving. When the Arizals left after the battle, Blovid was in a safe place but we couldn't go with them at the time because we still needed to return everyone home. But now that we're ready, his safety's been compromised and he's on the move again. There's no way of telling exactly where he is but once he's safely settled, he'll send word and we'll go. Until then, it's through the jungle on foot, hiding in her layered canopy. We can't stay at the Castle because if the Vermix return, that's exactly where they'd go. That or Ellae.

"Then onward," I gesture forward, moving past Clarence to join the others. Reid's stare burns through me, but I ignore it as best I can. A large lump rolls down his throat with each step I take but I force myself to focus on the rest of the group instead, on the other five percents that will join us in our quest. My stomach twists.

Able's not here.

I already knew he wouldn't be—his body not being accounted for—but it's still another jolt to know I'll have to do this without him. He is, after all, my bestie. The familiar pain ignites at the thought of never seeing him again, never having him make light of a situation or hear him describe Reid with a childlike worship. But where _is_ he? That's the part that's killing me, the not knowing. He's not here—so what does that mean? He's probably in the same place that Walker is. And Vix, most likely.

But Tucker is here, along with Jace, Booker, Werzo, Pratt and a new girl. She's a petite thing with a black bob and bangs and does an especially good job at keeping her eyes averted.

"You don't have to be scared of her," Werzo walks over, throwing his arm around her shoulders. "She won't turn you to stone."

"Hey, hands off the Arrival," Tucker motions Werzo back. "No time for that."

"What?" he drops his arm, resuming his previous position. "I was just being friendly," Werzo readjusts his rifle, looking to Booker for assistance. But the massive force just shakes his head.

"It's not going to be that kind of trip," Reid says after a moment. "Not your definition of friendly, anyway," he moves past, putting himself at Sampson's right.

"I'm Fallon," I step closer to the meek girl.

"Mae." It comes out a whisper.

Sampson hands me an AK-47, the same as everyone else. We all turn in unison, taking in one final glimpse of the Castle, of its towering, dark walls and the deadly nothing surrounding it. Again we turn, this time looking to Sampson who gestures past the gate and out toward the jungle.

We move through it, eventually passing Ellae and coming upon the Banyan trees of the former mutated lot. As we arrive, the others take it in with shock, surprised to see the charcoaled remains.

"Oh my God," Pratt whispers.

"To destroy the evidence," I explain.

"Not that it's really destroyed..." Jace mumbles behind me. "More like... _really_ well done."

"We should say something," Pratt says, stopping us from moving further. "Or make a burial."

We should. For all those who lost their lives out here, people who'll never make it back home. Like Hinson and Raj. They deserve a goodbye, even if it's just from us.

I look at Sampson who's already retrieving something from the inside pocket of his full-length brown robe. It's a small blue sphere no larger than a marble and has tiny golden flecks sparkling inside. Bringing the sphere to his lips, Sampson breathes on it and the blue marble takes off, flying upwards autonomously. At first it just sails straight but then, after a moment, the blue sphere stops, bursting open as a sparkling powder coats the blackened trees like a gentle mist of rain.

And then it happens.

The blooming.

Lavender, ruby, sapphire and emerald flowers spring around the blackened trunks. After a moment, the former lot of mutations is now the first day of spring—the perfect resting place for Raj and Hinson. I place my hand on Sampson's and squeeze. He must know what this means to me, to have them left like this. We all wait a moment longer before Tucker moves us on, past the Banyan trees of flowers.

We spend the first night camped somewhere deep in the thicket of trees, Clarence staying up to keep watch. Huddled together, we lay on the compacted dirt between the bulky roots, our rifles at our sides. Reid puts himself between Tucker and Jace, on the opposite side of Clarence. Pratt and I lay next to one another, across from the boys, and we snuggle to keep warm. Mae's on her opposite side but keeps mostly to herself, curled up and quiet.

We spend the nights like this, without babeebs, in near darkness save the starlight above. The days are silent, mostly out of request from Sampson and Clarence, who continually stress the need to listen and watch. No one talks except to dictate break times and directions, a possible 'imminent' danger always lingering in the background. It's not like I have much to say anyway, except maybe to Pratt, but she's lost in her own world, just like the rest of us.

Mae, the new girl, is the same way, but keeps at the tail end of our herd as we move through the terrain. I can't imagine what it must be like for her. At least the rest of us know each other, trust one another. She arrived just in time for the Vermix invasion and without friends, is suddenly forced into this new life.

Every day I think it's going to be the one where something changes—where Sampson and Clarence finally tell us it's time to leave or maybe, the day Reid finally talks to me.

He's been keeping himself preoccupied with sticking to Tucker's side. He only really acknowledges me when we do a count to make sure no one's missing and the few times I catch his eye when he thinks I'm asleep. Other than that, it's nothing. Silence and avoidance. Day in and day out. But I keep his Callix close.

It's about the tenth or eleventh day and we're trudging through the trees like usual when a small Dofinike—about six or seven feet tall—lands in front of us, having dropped from the sky like the others. He has a circle with alternating dots on his upper right pectoral and a grave expression. I don't recognize him but he must be an Arizal because Sampson and Clarence fly to him without reservation, the trio exchanging words with hushed urgency.

The stranger glances at us before jetting back up a moment later, Sampson and Clarence carrying on privately a few seconds longer. Finally, Sampson turns to us, taking a deep breath. "We have to go now."

"Where?" I ask.

"Mybyncia," Clarence says. "Blovid's been located."

"Word was leaked on his location," Sampson paces, his eyes scanning the jungle's ground, trying to piece together everything just explained. "The Vermix have invaded the Southern Shores _and_ Pryncbia's Foreign Headquarters," he stops and looks at us, "it's the royal city—the location of the palace. They knew Blovid would be there. They ambushed, attacked and left Mybyncia vulnerable," he takes a breath. "The Vermix have enacted war."

"Is Blovid safe?" I ask.

Sampson nods. "He's fled."

"Where do you think he's gone?" Clarence moves for his old friend, lowering his voice to close off the conversation between them.

"One of the other moons, most likely. He knows Hozfin and Thias are not looking to join in our conflicts."

"So... to Mybyncia first?" Clarence leans in closer, barely muttering, "I know Qippert said to attend to her royal highness, but finding Blovid's pretty high on the to-do list too."

"If the Vermix have struck Pryncbia's Foreign Headquarters, they're in need of aid. Besides, Queen Ravan might have some insight as to Blovid's whereabouts."

"Wouldn't Qippert know?"

"Possibly. Guess we'll have to ask him when we arrive," Sampson grins, turning to invite the rest of us into the conversation. "Alright, we're headed to Mybyncia, to the royal city of Pryncbia. We'll arrive on their Northern Shore but this is the only time we'll be on land. Mybyncia is our _water_ neighbor."

"What does that mean?" Pratt asks.

"It is a world completely submerged beneath the ocean, which covers the planet by ninety seven percent."

"How will we breathe?"

"The Foreign Headquarters caters to the necessities of visitors," Clarence explains. "We'll be underwater but enclosed. We'll be perfectly safe."

"How're we getting there?" I ask.

"Same as before, when I took you here. Though, I'm not as young as I use to be, so I won't be able to bring around the whole group," Clarence looks to Sampson. "Care to split them?"

"You take the ladies and...." he looks around the guys, "how about the King of Hearts? I know he'd have no aversion to that."

"Jace?" Clarence laughs, "mind holding hands with Pratt and Fallon over here? Rifles at your back please and hold tight. For those of you where it's been a while, just relax and keep calm. This shouldn't last more than a few seconds. "

"So we're finally saying goodbye to Harrizel?" Jace surveys the surrounding jungle, enclosing our circle. "Never thought I'd see it."

"Assumed I'd be here forever," Tucker mutters in agreement, his focus on the treetop canopy above.

"Yes—it's finally time to leave," Sampson softly says, grouping the Rogues. "We most likely won't be returning for a bit. Unless dire circumstances demand our return, I don't foresee a visit to Harrizel in the near future. Alright," he focuses on Clarence, "to the North Shore. We'll see you there."

Reid looks to me. I only have a second to burn before his circle takes off, blasting high into the treetop and racing through its watery canopy. Dew rains around us as Clarence takes my hand in one of his, and Mae's in the other. "Ready?"

"So we won't be back for a while?" Pratt glances around. "Or ever?"

"Not for a long time. We're onto a new chapter now, a new beginning."

I'm holding my breath. I knew the time would come when we'd have to leave but I didn't expect it to feel like this. I've wanted to leave Harrizel since I first arrived and now that the time has come, my chest hurts.

What am I saying goodbye to? And what will I find next?

"Alright," Clarence glances to Mae, Jace, me and back to Pratt. "Ready?"

We all nod.

A gush of wind propels us and we're up, the jungle disappearing completely.

# BONUS MATERIAL

# Reid POV'S

#

#  First Sighting

Something rustles ahead.

"What was that?" Pratt whispers.

"Get down," I put myself in front of her, peeking past the tree. But there's nothing. It's just quiet. Still. Maybe it was the wind. Maybe we imagined it. But then the rustling starts again. "Stay here."

"Reid..." Sampson starts but I'm already jetting past the first wall, keeping my back to Ellae's ivy covered stone.

Of course Pratt's behind me in an instant. She never can stay put. If it's a Vermix out for a midnight stroll, I'll take care of it. Sampson taught me that much. I may not understand where my original trainings came from, but at least I've got the knowledge he gave me. If it's just one Dofinike it shouldn't be an issue. Two or three and we might have a problem. I wish Pratt would get back. It makes me uneasy having her so close to something that could be dangerous.

I throw her a look but pause when the rustling sounds again. I place a finger over my mouth and she nods as I quietly peek past. And again, she's peeking past with me. At first it's nothing...

But then a girl steps out.

Large brown eyes look around, taking in Ellae with a deep sense wonder. She's not scared, not surprised, just...confused. Curious. And those eyes... _God_ those eyes are beautiful. Hypnotizing. I want them to look at me. As if she heard me, she turns, scanning the walls of Ellae that Pratt and I are hiding behind. I think my heart stops. Her face... her face is like her eyes—powerful. Enchanting. Determined. It's framed by long brown curls that run the length of her shoulders and down her gray baseball tee. Those curls look soft. Probably smell good too. Suddenly I have an urge to touch them, to run my fingers through them, to hold her face to mine—

"It's a _girl_ ," Pratt is surprised, jarring me from thoughts I had no business thinking. I don't know her. She's just an Arival—albeit, a brave one—but just a new face here. That's all. Still, Pratt is right to be surprised.

And frankly, so am I.

For a while, a few people tried escaping out here. Most were guys—future Rogues by the time I got to them. Others weren't so lucky. A girl might've ventured out every so often, but they would never get this far. They would usually stop or decide to turn back pretty much after entering the jungle. I don't blame them. It's such a death trap out here; you really need to know your way around it if you're going to survive. But this girl... she's made it all the way out here on her own. And she doesn't even look fazed. Just curious. Like she's trying to piece it all together already. Like it's just another hurdle.

"Reid..." Pratt whispers, biting her lip as she looks at me. "What do we do?"

Sampson is hiding behind the wall a foot across from us. I look at him, keeping my words to a whisper. "We can't let her keep going."

He nods, contemplating something and after a long moment, he decides. "We'll have to take her back. But I don't want her seeing our faces," he glances to us. "It's best she passes out and wakes up in the Castle."

I look back but she's gone. I'm about to jump out and search for her until I find the edge of her body peeking past one of the walls. She's crouched—hiding most likely—and I feel like a shit for doing this. With a nod to Sampson, we both jet out. She's probably going to make a break for it, but I block her main escape while he comes around the back. He'll pinch her neck and put her out before she even realizes what's happening. It's for the best. If we let her go, she'll only end up dead.

Sampson is right behind her. If she runs before he can put her out, I'll block her. She's trapped and she doesn't even know it. A pang of guilt stirs inside me but it's for the best. All Sampson needs to do is—

She's here, in my face, her eyes on mine.

Holy God.

A million thoughts race through her expression, stopping my chest. I can't breathe. I can't think. I'm lost in those eyes which suddenly dull, her lids closing. She falls in Sampson's arms before she reaches the ground. I'm not sure what to do... what to think. All I can do is look at her. And resist the urge to touch her.

"Oh Reid..." Pratt races over to us, crouching next to me. She gazes down at the girl, "she's pretty..."

"She's out," Sampson says, looking between us, "and only for a short time. We need to get her back to the Castle before she awakes."

"I can take her," I offer, the words out of my mouth before I realize I've said them. Both Sampson and Pratt look at me. I know what she's going to say. She's going to make something out of this. But really, I'm just helping out Sampson. He's probably tired. Plus, I've been slacking tonight. He's been getting most of the food...I...I should do this. Help him out. That's all.

"Here," I take her from Sampson's arms.

She's warm. And she does smell good. Shit. I need to take her back and stay the hell away from her. Except she's right up Jace's alley. Double shit. I'll tell him this one—only this one—is off limits. He doesn't need to tap every new ass that comes through. It's getting ridiculous, really. Taking his role as Recruitment RC to bang every chick. Some of the other Rogues are getting pissed. I need to talk to him about it. Soon.

I look down at the girl in my arms. Her face hangs back, her mouth slightly parted. Inviting. My focus shifts over her body. I gulp. She's tall, thin... soft. I haven't really touched a girl since Ansley, since she... no. Fuck her. She wants Walker. She can have him. I don't need distraction anyway. I have enough to do, even with Tucker as Rogue Leader now. He's doing well, but damnit if he doesn't come to me five times a day looking for help. I have no problem with it, but sometimes I just wish so many people didn't rely on me. What if it all falls through? I can't save them. Shit, we're still trapped here. The most I can do is make it somewhat easier. Save them from the Vermix and the Kings by working for me—or I guess Tucker now.

My focus drops to the girl again. Will she get involved in the Market? What am I thinking? I'm Rox. I have more of a say than anyone—on the Rogues side at least. I can command none of the Scouts to approach her... but then she might get recruited by the Kings. How can I avoid her and not let her get involved with them? She'll need to eat. Maybe I can have Able—

"She's _really_ pretty, Reid."

She is. Which means Jace won't hesitate long. After I drop her off in the Castle, I'll head to his room and let him know she's off limits. Just this one. Of course he'll make a big deal of it, but I don't care. I can't swallow the idea of him going after her too. She's different than the other girls. She made it all the way out here, to Ellae. No one's ever done that alone before. Ever. Not even me.

"Who is she?" my voice is gravelly, rough.

"Her name is Fallon," Sampson says. "Clarence brought her only a short while ago. She..." he glances at the girl in my arms, "...she is special."

"Obviously," Pratt laughs. "She made it all the way out here by herself. I like her already."

"We have to stay away from her," I say.

"Why?" Pratt is frowning. I hate that frown. Makes me want to give in. And hell if I don't want to. But it's not smart. Not this time.

"If she finds out who we are, she'll try to come back here. Probably get herself killed next time..." I say quickly. But that's not all. I like the way she feels in my arms too much. I like the way she smells and her mouth and her body...

Images flash of her naked beneath me.

Fuck.

"But Reid..." Pratt tries again.

"I'm sorry," I shake my head, trying to keep my body cool, forcing myself not to think of the only thing filling my brain. She'd probably feel good under me. Warm. My heart speeds up. Images flash of her arching, of calling my name as I move inside her. Of her gripping my sheets and her legs wrapped around my hips...

_Fuck_.

"You okay?" Pratt asks.

I nod. I'm going to have to stay away from her. I need to focus and with these images already floating around my head, she's a huge distraction. And I can't allow anything to keep me from helping Tucker with the Rogues. Ansley already ruined my focus. Those first few weeks, I wouldn't even talk to Tucker. I can't do that again. It's not fair. Going forward, I'm focused on the Rogues only. No more girls. Even this one. I'll tell Jace to leave her alone and then I'll do the same.

Taking a deep breath, I focus on the trees ahead. "Let's just get back."

#  The Challenge

I'm exhausted.

With all the longer shifts getting food at night, I'm more tired than usual. I'm out probably past midnight and we're up before everyone else is. All I want is quiet. And sleep. And maybe to stay in bed and jerk one off again. Shit, I just took care of it earlier and here I am, needing another release. Christ, have I gotten to this point already? I'm lame.

I probably could've stayed in if I wanted to... or gone out to the jungle with Sampson, but I've been doing that too often. I need to be here with the Rogues, keeping my presence a constant reminder who runs things. It's not like anyone can forget—they move when they see me, always giving me access first, quickly. Sometimes I like it; sometimes it's really annoying. They're _always_ watching me which means everything I do is on display. So even if I wanted to leave and rub one out, I can't. They'll notice I'm leaving before I've gone anywhere. So it's either in my room or out around Ellae. And after the other night, it seems jerking it's all I've been doing. Keeping these urges under control so I can stay away from her.

Goddamnit.

"She's _hot_ ," Jace is laughing with Harrison next to him. Able is on my left and we're working the Gollop. It's probably mid morning and I'm fucking exhausted. We've been out here a few hours and I'm already done. I could escape if I really wanted to, but I won't. I need to be out here. And to _not_ to be constantly reminded of her. Guess they didn't hear me before when I said to just drop it. "She's got Boss all stocked up," Jace laughs again. "Haven't seen him like this in a while. I keep telling him he should take care of it but he doesn't want to."

"Come on, Rox," Harrison tries. "If you're really that interested, why don't you just...you know. Go for it? No one's going near her. On _your_ request."

"I kind of want to meet her," Able turns to me. He's excited, like this is a new adventure for everyone. Maybe it is. "If she's caught your interest like this."

"Boss?" Jace laughs again. "You know I'm messing. You just look really strung out. I'm sure she can help with that..." his voice carries off. A beat goes by and I think about asking them all to just drop it. Again. I've made my decision concerning Fallon.

"Looks like she's hot for you too, Boss, because uh..."Jace laughs, "she's looking over here."

My head snaps up, finally seeing something other than the silvery Gollop for a change. It takes a second to find her and when I do, I stop. She's walking toward the Water Pole. A thousand excuses rush for me to drop the Gollop and run over but I bat them down one by one.

"Excuse me..." it's Erglioff's voice calling overhead again. Shit. This can't be good. "I'm sure there's a more civilized way to do this but as the news is already circulating, I believe you're owed the truth. For over a week, we worked diligently, doing all we could to save her but... sadly, it was not enough. I'm sorry to inform you that one of your own—Hinson—has passed on."

"Another one..." Able mumbles next to me. "Christ."

"An unfortunate discovery in what had started as mere curiosity and a serious case of poor judgment, we thought we could help, if not save her, but in the end, the toxic berry juice stopped her heart and there was nothing to be done. Do _not_ venture away. It is dangerous outside this gate, and in the jungle, it is _deadly_. Stay at the Castle—you're safe here with us. And remember what's most important for the human race."

"Isn't that Griffin's girlfriend?" Harrison looks between me and Jace.

I nod, dropping my head as I remind myself to talk to him later. He's probably taking this hard. Worse than hard. Griffin lived for Hinson. He's probably devastated.

The hum of the Gollop carries on as Erglioff's voice continues, "You may carry on with the Rebuilding."

"And servitude," Able mumbles.

"I think its slavery, dude," Harrison corrects.

A long silent moment passes.

"Uh... Boss?" Jace starts, a nervous quiver in his voice. "Your girlfriend's about to commit suicide."

My head snaps up again.

Shit.

Fallon is walking back to the Castle. She's got to know that's not allowed. I know Pratt's educated her on how things work. _Fuck_...what is she doing?

"Put the Gollop down," I order and the Rogues immediately obey. I can't watch this and work at the same time. Fallon hasn't stopped—she's walking slowly, like she might change her mind, but she doesn't. And everyone has noticed which means Tetlak has. She's balls brave—I'll give her that. But it won't help her if she's dead. Shit, what do I do? I can't let her keep going. But if I pull her back, everyone will see and it'll paint a target on her. They'll think she's with me. Maybe I want them to think that... No, because it'll put her in even more danger.

_Shit_.

"Uh... Boss?" Jace tries again.

Tetlak leaps from the end of the right flank, landing right in front of her. My hands turn to fists at my side. It takes everything I have not to race over and take that bastard out. He's been asking for it for years. Sampson taught me enough to put him down. I could. And I _would_ if it didn't mean instant death for everyone here. Because if I go, the rest of the system crumbles.

"I'm going to collect some of Hinson's things," Fallon's voice carries. Everyone has stopped working to watch, so it's eerily silent. "I want to give her a burial."

"No."

I'm heading over before I realized I've moved. Tetlak is too close to her. I can't take it. I force myself to only walk and not run, my fists clenched at my sides. If he _fucking_ touches her...

"We were close..." Fallon keeps her voice strong. "I'd like to gather some of her things."

Tetlak leans in and I go rigid as I come up behind her. The Vermix's yellow eyes flicker to me, questioning my sudden appearance. But he knows me. We have a history. If it was anyone else, we'd both be dead. But Tetlak understands the role I play. It benefits him so he leaves me alone.

Fallon fumbles back at his proximity and steps on my shoe. She spins toward me but I keep my eyes fixated on the Vermix. "Not this one."

"Explain it to her then," Tetlak growls, looking to Fallon again. "Get back to work."

I slip my hand in hers, gently tugging her toward me. "We have to go."

She doesn't resist and I pull her from the scene quickly, finally calming down. Good. She's out of there. Doesn't mean Tetlak won't keep a special eye on her. And now, so is everyone else. She may be brave as hell but she doesn't understand the danger she's put herself in. And now, with me coming to her rescue—again—people will speculate.

Her hands are soft. Softer than I would expect. For just a second I let myself pretend we're anywhere from here, out together somewhere. On a date or something. I don't know. It stirs something and for a brief moment, I give in, holding her like I want to rather than out of necessity. I soften my touch and brush my fingers against hers. It's almost intimate. But then I remember everyone is watching us— _really_ watching us—and I stop.

I should probably head back for the Gollop, but I need her to understand the situation. The danger. She has no idea what just happened—what's happening now. Glancing at the Rogues, I swerve right and head for the ladder, ignoring their wide-eyed stares and open mouthed smirks. Yeah, they're going to want to talk to me about this. Soon.

I climb down first and Fallon's next, following as I head right back to her spot. It's probably lame that I know where she was working earlier, but I keep tabs on everything. Everyone. Besides, Pratt told me—her assignment is to report on Fallon—so I already knew. Of course the Rogues were around when she did, and now Jace and the boys won't let up. They kept persuading me to go back to my days of trench digging... I was almost going to give in, if only to shut them up. They don't understand why I'm not perusing this.

Higgs and Baron are in Fallon's place but once they see me, they move immediately.

Good.

Reaching her station, I pick up her Senz and start working. She looks confused, but eventually does the same. Solidly focused on the wall, it only takes a minute before my words come rushing out.

"You really must be suicidal."

"I had to try."

"Glad you got it out of your system?"

"It's not out of my system."

"Man..." I can't help but laugh, "you have no idea how close you just came to being dead. That's twice now I've saved your ass."

"Twice? When was the first time?"

She's _hot_ when she's feisty. I've got to be careful with this. I lean in, trying not to breathe in her scent. "Uh—does the other night ring a bell?"

She narrows her eyes, a faint blush rising to her cheeks. "So why don't you stop then?"

"It'd be easy," I inch closer, tossing a glob of gibb into the bucket, "if you didn't act so rashly."

"Hey!" she snaps. "I came back and I didn't have to! I'm not going to sit by and let—"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa..." I lower my hands, glancing around to see if everyone else is staring. They are. "Just saying...think before you make these decisions. That's all."

"I _was_ thinking. I was thinking I don't plan on staying here forever. And I'm not waiting for someone else when I can do it just as easy. I'm not thinking rashly. I'm thinking _strategically_. Long term, she holds my stare. "I'm thinking revolt."

_God_ , can I just kiss her? Right now? If I ordered everyone to forgot what they see—and they would, in fear of the repercussions—could I get away with it? But I don't even know if she wants me to kiss her. Probably not. She hasn't given off any signs that she would.

I turn to the wall and start digging again and she does the same.

"So..." I clear my throat, not even sure why I'm asking, "what do you think about the Rublies?"

"I—yes, they're..." she gulps, another blush rising to her cheeks. She's nervous and for some reason, it's exciting me, "the Rublies are delicious. Thank you for all the food by the way."

I nod.

"But you really don't have to..."

"Sure I do," I sneak a peek at her, wanting to do a lot more than just feed her. I want to get her back to her bedroom and... no. That's not smart. _Focus, Rox. Focus._ I really do need to stay away from her. I can still feed her, but that's it. "What kind of bastard would I be if I didn't keep you fed?"

She opens her mouth to respond but her focus shifts over my shoulder, to Irie at my side. Of course he's here—why wouldn't he be? He blinks three times, pauses, then blinks twice more. Tucker wants to talk to me? _Now?_ It's about this. I know it is. And all I wanted to do was warn her. Explain the situation. About the dangers she's put herself in. And will be in if she keeps pulling stunts like this.

I look back to Fallon, trying to decide how to end this. Has she been warned thoroughly? Maybe I'll have Pratt get with her again. But I don't want to keep sending Pratt. _I_ want to talk to her. _Fuck!_ What do I do?

"Look," I start taking off the Senz, "try not to get yourself killed, alright? Strategizing is one thing but challenging Tetlak," I shake my head, backing up, "instant death." I scan her one last time, promising myself I won't do it again. I have to leave her alone. "See you."

#  First Kiss

I shouldn't be here.

I _know_ I shouldn't be here but I've wanted to get into her room since I first saw her. Damn, I'm being dumb. Look at what's already happened. Mantis tried cornering her which means the entire Kings are speculating over us, over her. They think she's my girl—exactly what I _didn't_ want to happen. Without even realizing it, Fallon's become my new weakness. And she doesn't even know it. I should really go. Right now. I could leave her safety to Chief and Jace. They're the two best fighters I have. They'll keep her as protected as I could. It's their new assignment so she'll be constantly surrounded and secured. And the rumors would fade if I stayed away...

I lean forward, pressing my head against her door.

_Jesus_.

What do I do?

Even if I wanted to stay away, I couldn't. Not at this point. I'm here and there's nothing I can do to convince myself to leave. Besides, I'm _Rox_ for fuck's safe. Why can't I have this? Not that there's anything to have... it's not like we're dating. I'm just telling her about the food gatherings. That's all. She wants to know about them and probably help. And there's nothing wrong with me delivering this information to her...in her bedroom...where we'll finally be alone.

With this thought, I retrieve the Sirolla Sampson gave me and hold it up to the door. A thousand tiny white hairs emerge, gripping the crimson blocks as six click back in place and the door slowly opens. Silently, I step in and lean against the door frame, quickly scanning the room.

Fallon is on her bed, leaning back and staring up at the dark ceiling.

For a long moment, I just watch her, feeling like a total perv. I should probably say something—announce I'm here at least—but at this point, all I want to do is crawl on top of her and start kissing up her neck. I know she tastes good. _God_ I'm dying to do it again. But I don't even know if she wants me. After I kissed her at Lecture, she didn't bring it up. Maybe I shouldn't have done it. Maybe I should've tried again...

"Hey."

She sits up, her cheeks burning red. "Hi."

"Mind if I...?" I gesture myself in, but don't wait for her to answer. Normally I'm allowed instant entrance wherever I go, so it's strange doing this. I close the door, my blood racing to find myself in a small quarter with her.

"Of course..." she glances over my shoulder. "How'd you do that?"

"What?" I look behind me. It takes a minute to understand what she's asking. I mostly hang around the Rogues and they all know about the easy door access. That's how we move all the tokens and basically run our side of the Market. "Oh—a sirolla," I walk over to her, presenting the tiny sphere. It really is an ingenious device. I'm not sure we'd be half as successful without it and it's just another reason meeting Sampson was so beneficial to the Rogues. "Like a door decoder—can open anyone's."

Looking up, I find her eyes are already on mine. My heart speeds, especially at the knowledge that only a few inches separates us. She must recognize it too because she's blushing again.

"So..." she backs up, moving away from me, "...that's how you got into Griffin's room."

"Yeah. I'm surprised that slipped past you."

I'm not trying to be a dick, but sometimes I can't help it. Side effect of being around the Rogues constantly. I have to give her credit though—she's still here. At first I was afraid I'd introduced her to too much too quickly—Camp, the Snatchings, the underground Labyrinth. Usually it takes an Arival a fair amount of time to get adjusted and here I am, throwing all this at her. But she's handling it well. _Better_ than well. And then revealing who I am—the role I play in all this—I'm surprised she hasn't run screaming.

"Fair enough..."

She's still walking, keeping away from me and I wonder if she's nervous. The thought brings a smile to my face. I could say something... call her on it, but decide to keep quiet.

"You wanted to know about gathering food. Pratt will pick you up after Leisure Time starts. We're out for two hours and that's it," I watch her bite her lip. "You uh, sure you want to go?"

"It's freedom. Besides," she gestures to the food I've had Pratt bringing her, "I need to start working off my debt."

"It's a paid."

"Already?"

I shrug, "I know the Boss."

" _Yeah_..." she laughs, "thanks for telling me by the way."

"Didn't think it was important," I cross my arms, "besides, my name is Reid. That's what you asked for. My name."

""Knowing you go by Rox is pretty helpful too."

"Well... I didn't tell you because I've taken some time off."

"A sabbatical?"

I nod.

"Why?"

I rub the back of my neck. Shit. Am I really going to tell her? Maybe I can lie... but I don't want to lie to her. Okay. Here it goes..."I was seeing someone and it didn't work out."

"Oh..."

"Yeah... so Tucker's taken over Rogue Leader. Rogues report to him now."

"But _he_ reports to you. Is that right?"

I shrug. Pretty much, except nothing's really changed. Tucker always reported to me and the Rogues have always reported to him, even when I was the official Rogue Leader. I guess if we're going to talk about this, I'll just let her in on it all. It's probably best that she knows. "I try to stay out of it."

"But?"

"But lately he's been begging me to resume my post."

"Why?"

"I don't know... they miss me? Probably has to do with the pills and list."

"So why don't you go back?"

I can't tell her about Ansley... about what she did. That's fucking mortifying. I don't want her thinking I'm not...that I can't... No. I don't even know if Fallon likes me. I'm not going to tell her some other girl left because I wasn't doing it for her. _Hell_ no. Gnawing on the tip of my thumb, I shake my head.

"Okay..." she sits on her bed and folds her legs. "What about that guy earlier? The King. What was his deal?"

"He uh..." I look away, feeling the heat flow to my face, "he thinks you're my new girl."

" _What? Why?_ "

Is that a good response? She's shocked. But good shocked or bad? Shit—do I tell her this? She's waiting for an answer and besides, I owe her an explanation. I'm sure she's seen Ansley hanging around me recently. I don't want her to get the wrong idea.

"Since Ansley, I haven't really—I mean, I don't ever talk to anyone outside Pratt and the Rogues. You're the first..." am I really saying this? "... _girl_ I've actually been seen talking to. Guess he sort of assumed."

"Okay... but even if he thinks that, does it really merit an escort? I mean, I'm not in any danger am I? Reid?"

Hell no.

"No one's coming near you," I sit next to her, "and look, sorry for this mess. It's my fault. I should've been smarter being around you."

"Maybe it was the scapegoat thing?"

"Maybe..." I try hiding a smile, thinking of pressing her against the wall beneath me, of tasting her skin. _Jesus_ , I wanted her then. I want her now. I suppress a gulp, "But seriously, you're good. Mantis or any of the Kings come within feet of you, I'll know."

"Then what?"

_I'll beat the living shit out of them._ I shrug, "I'll take care of them."

"And..." her eyes look between mine, holding me, melting me, "this is all because you're Rox. Because they've seen you with me a total of three times. _This_ makes me your girlfriend?"

I like the sound of that.

"Yeah," I sit forward, trying to concentrate on anything else. The floor, my shoes, my beating heart. "Stupid, I know."

Maybe I should tell her it's smarter to be considered my girlfriend... it would keep her safe. Who am I kidding? She's already the most well-protected person on Harrizel. Maybe I should tell her I _want_ her to be my girlfriend... but that's lame, right? Shit, how do I do this again? The other girls... they all sort of throw themselves at me. Even Ansley made the first move but Fallon...

"Why weren't you?" she's quiet.

"What?"

"Smarter with me?"

"Jesus, Fallon," I laugh, dropping my head. She's really going to make me do it. But can I admit how much I'm feeling her? Straight out admit it? "What do you want me to say?"

Silence sits between us. We're at this point now. I've got to do it. I've got to make my move. But she still hasn't given any clue that she likes me. Even if she doesn't, she needs to know she's safe. That much I can promise her.

"No one's going to bother you, okay? It's kind of a good thing he thinks you're my..." I clear my throat. I should've said it. Should've asked it. _Want to be my girl?_ I'm such a lame ass idiot. "...it's protection."

"Reid."

"What?"

"Look at me."

When I do, my heart stops. Damn. I need to kiss her. Right now. I need to know what her lips taste like. I bet they're soft like the rest of her. Delicious. It takes everything I have not to reach over and do it. Do it. _Just do it._

"Was the scapegoat thing for real?"

I'm giving myself away at this point. She's got to know that I want her, right? I nod, "But..."

"But..."

I run my hand through my hair, focusing on the ground. It's becoming painful. I have to focus on keeping my hands still, to myself. "But normally I jet into the Maze."

It's quiet again. I can't take it anymore. I _have_ to kiss her or I'm going to explode. We're on her bed, inches apart and all I can smell is her. All I'm aware of is _her_ , and how close we are. Shit. It's happening. Even if she pushes me away—even if she doesn't want me, I have to find out.

"Fallon?"

"Yeah?"

I take a breath. "Don't hit me, okay?"

"Hit you? Why would I—"

I take her face in my hands and kiss her. _God_ she tastes good. And she's not resisting either; she's not pushing me away. She's letting me do this, letting me touch her, letting me hold her like I've wanted to, like I've dreamed about since first seeing her. All I want is her. And I was right—her lips are soft, delicious. Addictive. How have I kept from kissing her this entire time? I need this; I need more of her. I open my mouth and slip my tongue in, finding hers, massaging it. _Holy shit_ this is happening. I've needed this—wanted this. Fuck the repercussions. I'll deal with them. All that matters is Fallon.

She starts to pull back, her lips swollen pink. She looks like she might say something but I don't give her a chance to stop this. I can't. I need more of her. Now. Kissing her again, I hold her close to me, keeping us together. And I feel her melt under me. _Oh_ she wants this too. Her mouth opens, letting more of me in, giving control to me. My blood races, the urge inside me growing.

I lean her back.

...And then Pratt flies through the door.

Using every amount of willpower I have, I pull back, grunting as I drop my hands from Fallon who seems equally as pained with the interruption. It takes everything I have to stop myself when my body's roaring with the need to continue. _Jesus_ I want to continue. But if Pratt's here, that means something serious must've happened. Something she couldn't wait to tell me because I know how much she's wanted me to go after Fallon.

"I'm so sorry Reid," she glances at Fallon with genuine guilt in her eyes, " _so_ sorry but you have to come now. Right now."

"What's wrong?"

"Snatching turned into a Clan fight."

A clan fight? _Double fuck._ That means we have to deal with the Kings _and_ Tetlak. "Vic?"

"Raj?"

I'm on my feet, flying after Pratt. I turn to Fallon back on the bed. "You stay here."

"What's going on? What happened to Raj?" she tries to follow me out but I block her with my body. "Is she okay?"

"I'm serious. STAY HERE!" I order, jetting after Pratt.

I can't have her involved in this. It's too dangerous. Whenever there's a clan fight, it turns deadly. Quick. The Kings have their own way of obtaining weapons but I have the Carpenters who make stuff for us. I've got enough blades and things to last a lifetime. And I've used most all of them. Clan fights are fucking terrible and if Fallon comes... no. I can't even think of it. If she got hurt... if...

"Reid, look!" Pratt points to the bloody brawl at the bottom of the stairs.

Shit this is bad. Already. Of all nights, it happens when I finally make my move on Fallon. At least she's back in her room. If she came, not only would she be in physical danger, but the Kings would know. There wouldn't be a doubt in their mind who she was... and she'd be sought after to get to me.

And I won't let that happen.

**Thank you for joining Fallon in her adventure! Be sure to follow her and the others as the journey continues in** Plague of Mybyncia **, available now!**

About the Author:

C. G. Coppola is a huge fan of Oreos, but not so much oatmeal raisin. She loves the cold, but somehow still finds herself in sunny Florida, where she grew up and obtained her creative writing degree (go Noles!) Maybe one day she'll migrate north. New York would be nice. Or Amsterdam, perhaps. For now, she lives with her boyfriend and entirely too much stuff in their cramped, one bedroom apartment. She hopes this will change soon.

Connect with me online:

www.cgcoppola.com

https://ninjallamaempress.wordpress.com

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