Authors: Nick James
“Cassius!” Fisher’s voice came from behind him. “I just saw a Skyship. We’re moving fast.”
A drop of Ridium fell from the ceiling and spilled on Cassius’s back, extending into a claw-like shape until it pulled him up and flung him to the far side of the chamber.
Theo grinned as he sat up. “I’d lay off if I were you.”
Fisher ran to Cassius’s side, eyes wide and panicked. “He’s controlling the entire room. If we don’t stop this thing we’ll be in space.”
Cassius glared at him. “Don’t you think I know that?”
Theo jumped to his feet and strode forward. “Try and throw me out the back of a cruiser,” he chuckled. “Tie me to a chair. Shoot me.”
“You’re sick,” Cassius said. “You’re gonna kill us all!”
“No,” he replied. “Not sick. What’s sick is that I’ve been slumming it down there for so many years. I don’t belong with those people on the Surface. I’m a Shifter. Like my father.” He paused a moment to marvel at the chamber around him. “It all makes sense now. It’s coming back, like a piece of my brain’s been triggered.” He chuckles. “All those years waiting. For the two of you to find each other … for our targets to reveal themselves. He’s been hiding in the Fringes the entire time. He’s already here.”
Fisher clenched his fists. “Matigo.”
Theo sighed. “He’d like nothing better than for me to do it … get rid of you right now.” He continued to approach. “Ridium. That’s the key to this invasion. Not Pearls. Pearls are for foot soldiers, for the common Drifter. Ridium is for kings.”
With a flip of Theo’s hand, Cassius’s bracelet lurched to the ground, dragging the rest of his body with it. Fisher’s too. He watched, helpless, as the floor devoured his fingers. It pulled them in like quicksand. There was nothing to hold onto.
The Ridium transformed into a chute of darkness. Everything went cold as the surface sucked him in. He took a deep breath just before the Ridium covered his face. His arms flailed, legs kicking at the blotchy mess, but it was pointless.
Seconds later the Ridium parted with his body, oozing upward in a stringy mess. The blackness settled back into a ceiling above his head, but there was no ground left underneath. Only sky, and hundreds of miles to the Surface.
I scream. Or at least I make the motion. Whatever sound comes out doesn’t reach my ears before the wind pulls it away. Gusts of air tear me in every direction as I tumble in messy circles. It’s all a blur, an endless abyss of navy blue.
Second freefall in as many days. Only there’s no Drifter to save me this time.
Cassius plummets behind me, a dark lump against the stars. I can’t tell where his face is. I can’t see anything. Every passing second the atmosphere pulls me in a different direction until I’m not even sure I’m falling anymore.
I’m flipped over and the world is upside down—long stretches of gray, an endless wasteland. My ears pop. It feels like they’ll burst and bleed all over the place. I tuck in my arms, but nothing stops the pain. The sky does its best to rip me apart. It doesn’t matter if I’m the Pearlbreaker, not if there aren’t any Pearls to break.
The wind twirls me back around so that I’m staring at the vessel of Ridium. It looks like a black bubble from here—a perfect oval of darkness. Theo’s up there, or whoever he is now.
I feel a weight dislodge at my hip and watch as Ryel’s cube of metal shoots into the sky above me. I reach out and try to grab it before it’s snatched away.
Too late. It disappears into the sky, sucked right up to the vessel.
I close my eyes, praying for a Pearl. A shuttle. Anything.
Then, light.
A floodlight above us, stronger even than George Barkley’s outside of Lenbrg. It forces my eyes open, though I can barely look at it.
The wind steadies until it’s replaced by a soft hum. My body warms. My limbs stop flailing. I lose track of everything around me. Theo’s vessel disappears. The stars fade into nothing. The ground becomes an afterthought.
I’m frozen, lying on a bed of stabilized air in the middle of the sky, bathed in light.
And then I’m somewhere else entirely.
An entire world flows beneath my feet. I’m flipped around so that I can stare down at it like a bird. Gold meadows give way to a vast, sandy desert, then to chasms so dark and deep that I’m sure they must be carved from Ridium.
Seconds later, the landscape turns a charcoal gray.
Lights. Rows and rows of them, so tightly packed that the entire world illuminates in a blinding grid.
It all comes unbelievably fast—more and more of it. I can barely process each new sight. Towers. A crater. A black city wide enough to devour an entire planet.
I blink.
A hallway.
Cassius stands beside me. I turn to him. I feel like everything inside of me is all messed up, but I think this goes beyond physical. I’m disoriented in so many different ways. I expect the floor beneath me to open into sky.
“Did we hit the ground?” I cup my hand over my mouth when I hear my voice. “Are we dead?”
Cassius glances around the hallway. He clenches his fingers and taps his foot, as if trying to get used to his body. “Did you see all of that?”
“The cities?” I ask. “The desert?”
“Everything,” he whispers. “It was all too much. I couldn’t even concentrate. Were we flying?”
I hold my hand in front of my face and bend each finger. “I don’t know. I don’t know what’s happening.”
I wouldn’t be surprised if Cassius told me that we were in the Lodge. Everything around us has an air of expense to it. From the deep red carpet running down the marble floor to the gold-framed art and photography hanging around us, the corridor reeked of excess. A glass ceiling hangs overhead, constructed in an ornate tiered formation. Beyond it lie the stars. It’s night.
Recessed lighting bathes everything in a peaceful glow. The temperature is perfect, without that dry, reprocessed feel that you get in shuttles and Skyships. There’s energy underfoot, too. I’m not sure what it is.
I grab my hair. “This is freaking me out. First Theo, then we’re falling … now this? I think we’re dead, Cassius. Like, seriously. Maybe we died back in the swarm and this is all just a dream.”
He swallows. “Feel your chest.”
I wince, knowing that the burn marks will make it real. Hand shaking, I reach under my shirt and run my fingers over the familiar symbols, still etched into my skin. I step back without saying a word.
Cassius glances up to examine the glass ceilings. “That light … ”
“Ryel’s cube,” I say. “It slipped from my pocket when I was falling, just before the light came down from the sky.”
“You think it had something to do with this?”
I think back to the unnatural coldness that seemed to emanate from the cube. “We don’t know what it is. It’s from Haven. It’s gotta be.”
“We could still be falling,” he replies.
“Dead,” I whisper.
“Would you stop it with that word?”
Something sounds in the distance.
Cassius freezes. “Did you hear that?”
I listen as footsteps round a corner somewhere in the distance. “Someone’s coming.”
Cassius moves to the wall, looking for an exit. “Quick. There’s gotta be a way out.”
We’re too late. A motion at the end of the corridor catches my eye. I turn to see a man approach us, head high, expression serious. His lean body is covered in a head-totoe suit of black. It has a faint gleam, like Ridium. I flatten against the wall, even though it’s obvious he’s going to see us.
But somehow, he doesn’t. He approaches at a constant pace, shoulders up, lips tugged at a slight frown. His eyes are red, like Theo’s were when we left him.
He walks directly past us, moving down the hall with all the emotion of a robot.
Cassius takes a cautious step from the wall. I reach over to stop him, but he’s too far away. The man in black continues his march down the hallway. Cassius takes another step. Then, when I’m sure they’re about to collide, something amazing happens.
The man in black—or his shoulder, at least—moves right through Cassius. It’s like a cloud, dissipating into swirls of gas until he’s on the other side.
Cassius’s eyes widen. “Did you see that?”
I freeze, hoping that the man didn’t hear him. But he continues onward, giving no indication that he’s seen or heard us at all.
Cassius takes another look. “Let’s follow him.” I peer down the corridor and watch the guy move farther away. “I don’t know … ”
“We’re here,” Cassius says. “I don’t know how we got here, but it doesn’t matter. We might as well make the most of it.”
He starts off after the man. Cursing under my breath, I follow.
We trace the guy’s footsteps past several intersections of hallways before we make a turn and head up an impressively tall staircase. I’m not sure how big this place is, but apart from the glass ceilings, I haven’t seen a trace of the outside world this entire time—only the same, ornate corridors.
The stairs lead us to a separate room that branches from the roof in a sphere of glass. It reminds me of an enormous Pearl. All it’s missing is a green glow.
We stand at a narrow landing, squeezed up against the man in black. I take the chance to peer around the side of his face and search for features that might give me an indication of who—or what—this guy is.
He looks a little like Ryel, and it fools me at first. I even whisper his name, not that he’s able to hear me. The differences make themselves known in time. Longer nose, a scar just in front of his left ear, and most worryingly, the glint of red in his eyes.
I don’t have time to linger, as the doorway to the room opens before us. The man strides in without hesitation. Cassius and I tiptoe behind. We arrive on a vast expanse of carpet, exquisitely detailed in pattern and shape. The designs meld and flow into place, cycling around each other in a slow, hypnotic pace. The longer I look at it, the less convinced I am that it’s carpet at all. Nothing here is completely as it seems at first glance.
The glass walls of the spherical chamber are entirely translucent. I glance behind me and marvel at the endless fortress below us. I can’t tell where it ends. Maybe it never does. I peer through the glass ceilings. Pathways of silver-white light form an impressive maze of corridors and rooms. I’m reminded of the images I saw after Ryel’s cube activated. Lights. Everywhere.
And it’s true. Everything is like this. All around the structure, 360 degrees.
I notice more bubbles like ours, rising into the air above the paths of light in the distance. But beyond that everything’s more or less at the same level. It’s like the carpet under our feet—an unending patchwork. A grid stretching into the horizon.
There’s smoke, too. Or clouds of some sort. It’s difficult to see them in the night, under the stars. The lights of the complexes show me the difference. Some are brighter. Others shine from beneath a layer of thick atmosphere. The man kneels in front of us, knees on the ever-changing carpet, head bowed. “King Matigo.” His voice is barely above a whisper, as if he’s afraid to speak at all.
I break from the cityscape outside to focus on the inside of the room.
Cassius nudges my side. “Hey, do you see anybody?” “What?”
“Look.” He points past the man in black to an enormous, rounded desk. It’s not made of wood, or metal, but some stone-like substance that reminds me of granite. “It’s just red, right? You see it too?”
I blink. Then it snaps into focus, out of nowhere. A figure sits behind the structure, glowing such an intense red that I can barely look at him. I can’t discern any features, only the faintest idea of a shape. And even that’s blurry. It’s like a black hole of Red Pearl energy. And to my astonishment it moves. And talks.
“Lieutenant Thamus,” the voice starts. It’s halfway between a boom and a whisper. An impossible voice. “Number 976. Do I have that correct?”
“Of course, sir.”
The red energy flickers. “I was gazing at the stars, wondering.”
There’s a pause, but Cassius breaks the silence. “It’s Matigo,” he whispers. “Are we on Haven?”
I push his shoulder. “Shh.”
He takes a cautious step forward. “I don’t think they can hear me.”
The red energy pulses. “Aren’t you going to ask me for clarification?” Matigo’s voice changes again. It’s more thunderous now. Muffled, even, like it’s coming from a broken speaker.
Lieutenant Thamus stands, hands clasped behind his back. “Of course, sir.”
Something pounds the top of the desk. It could have been Matigo’s fist, but there’s no way to be sure through the glare of the energy. “I was wondering why we’ve yet to quantify the number of stars in the universe. I’m compelled to conduct an inventory.”
The lieutenant nods. “Perhaps after our mission is complete, sir.”
“Perhaps.” He pauses. The energy dulls for a moment. “I was also wondering about tomorrow. I am concerned.”
Thamus bows again. “I understand completely.”
“Our foremost experts have assured me that the process will run smoothly. These past three months have been hard on him. The initiation … it is not always pleasant, especially for such a young body. But he has his father’s talents.” He pauses. “And I don’t intend to back down. I am not a coward, and neither is my son. If it is good enough for the Resistance, it is good enough for me.”
Thamus takes a deep breath. “Everything has been orchestrated with great precision. Every variable has been considered. We have eliminated the possibility of surprise.”
The energy pulses. “You’ve come to collect him, then?”
“If King Matigo wishes it.”
Cassius tiptoes forward, past the lieutenant and closer to the desk.
Matigo speaks. “I don’t fear for his life. Death is insignificant in the grand scheme of things. I would sacrifice a child ten times over to see this through.”
“I understand.”
“Good.” The energy flickers. “The Resistance has already sent their champions, and with them, an attempt at blocking our systems. Ridium is the key to our success. If the Resistance hadn’t coerced a Shifter, we would not be having this discussion now.”
“Yes,” Thamus says. “We are still investigating the possibility of a defector.”