He turns around, and I watch his retreating form as he moves soundlessly among the Scythes.
"It's time to raise up a new generation. Only those who've been summoned on this platform can answer the calling." The Patriarch walks around our group, his sharp gaze impaling us. He raises his arms with a crooked smile, and the Firestorm suns begin shifting in the sky. One by one, they align in a straight line facing the glowing North star. Rays of sunlight bake the soil in waves of heat. I squint my eyes to ease the burning sensation.
Now that we're leaving home, the foster families will be getting the next batch of children. The Patriarch's lanky frame begins to glow, and electric sparks consume him. Standing over the birthing platform, he traces the dove insignia with his staff. Now, the Heavens lend their power to the Patriarch to create life.
Gray clouds swirl above the shadowed man. They gyrate in a thunderous mass of lightning, focusing the suns' energy into a single beam that pierces the clouds. Opalescent dust flutters in the wind. Each speck descends slowly like a gift from the Heavens, growing and hardening into a recognizable spirit stone. I reach for the one in front of me. Kyro leans in and stares at the embryo trapped inside.
He brings the stone to my ear. "Listen."
"What are you—"
Kyro chuckles, and a subtle glow invades his pensive, golden eyes. Resting his hands on my shoulders, he waits until the sounds of panicked chatters and squealing children perish within his noise barrier. In the void of silence, the soft rhythm of a spirit's heartbeat tickles my eardrums. The stone absorbs my warmth and emits a subtle, pulsating red energy. It bursts into the air along with the others, and the brilliant gleam searches the waiting crowds of adoptive families before settling on someone.
Kyro cracks a rueful grin. Once he slowly lets me go, the sounds return once again, snapping me back to reality.
Instantly, the embryos cling to their new parents, shaking like thinly-clad children in the thick of winter. A soft glow starts in their chest. They inhale sharply, taking in their first few breaths of life. I recognize the three scar lines on their wrists. That's the only thing that marks them as future fighters.
"The end is near," A woman whispers from behind us. She frowns as she studies our faces, shaking her head when we don't answer. "It means the Empyreans are back. There's no time for the Scythes to grow up."
"Then why not just make them our age from the start?" I ask.
"Scythes need at least 17 years of bonding with normal parents. Before they learn how to kill, they must first learn what family means." When the woman finishes talking, a yellow flash appears in her eyes. "You should've known this by now, but they're still keeping things from you."
"Why are you telling us this?"
"Anyway, it doesn't matter what I say." The woman lifts her gaze to the city buildings, surveying the somber cluster of steel and concrete. I watch the structures that seem to twist into the alleyways and lean over the streets. Their metallic groans are a warning that they won't stand for much longer.
Then, the woman turns to me. "Since the war, we've learned to accept things the way they are. Even now, many of us believe in something for so long that we think it's true."
I'm about to ask her what she means when she pulls on her cloak. Then, she vanishes into the crowd. There are more of them like her. Standing still as weathered shale are those dressed in black hoods. They have the same jade-green eyes.
I turn her words over in my head. She might be from another empire, but there's no way to know for sure.
Shaking my head, I force myself to focus on the Patriarch. As his body shrinks and the sky clears up, he makes his way to the center of the birthing platform. His hair is long and white now. It cascades past his shoulders and ends at his waist. I stifle a gasp as his knees buckle, and he nearly falls face-first into the soil.
Coughing, he rises and leans against a Keeper for support. "To the houses of Legatus and Praetor, your families have been given Scythe children for several years. All but one in each household remains. From the house of Legatus, there's Giselle. From that of Praetor, there's Regan. You'll be compensated for giving up your last Scythe child."
Ash meets my eye and offers me a weak smile.
Even as the ceremony is dismissed, I linger for a while before walking around aimlessly. We have the afternoon to bid our goodbyes before heading to the army camp, and I know where I should be now. Slipping away from the group of Scythes, I move as one with the shadows. All chatter dies behind the thick walls of trees and branches. Thorns scratch against my skin. My skin prickles as a poisonous ivy brushes against me.
Still, I press on until I reach the dormitories of the Null workers—they're former Scythes who are now too injured to keep fighting. I slip in through the back of the building and head upstairs. I need to see Skylar. She's the one who nursed Mother back to health during the first Empyrean War.
That was when I thought I'd lose Mother for sure. Blood covered her body, pieces of shrapnel sticking out everywhere. Her pulse was almost gone. Mother feared for me ever since because her fight was only over two years ago. Now, I've got a feeling that the war is far from over. Just before it happens, I need to thank Skylar one last time.
Her room sits on the far end of the hallway. As I draw nearer, the sounds of frantic whispers seep through the door.
I knock and wait.
Someone curses. There's a brief rustling noise, followed by low murmurs and heavy footsteps. There's a hesitant tug at the door as Skylar pokes her head through. Her skin is flushed. Between her red and swollen lips, her breaths are uneven and ragged. Even her shirt is unusually creased. A quick, apologetic smile spreads across her face, making her cheeks ruddier than they were just seconds ago.
I frown and take a step closer. "Did something happen?"
"Sky, are you done yet?" someone says huskily. The voice comes from the other end of the room, and I bite my lip to hide a smile. Sucking in a deep breath, Skylar squeezes her eyes shut and swears. Soon, a familiar face joins her at the door—it's Ash. He goes pale when he sees me, frantically retreating to get a shirt on.
Skylar quickly pushes down her rumpled uniform while Ash runs his hand through his mussed hair. I barely stop a grin as the awkward silence simmers between us.
Skylar lifts her eyes to mine. "So…I'm guessing you need more medicine."
"What do you want?" Ash growls.
I ignore him and hand Skylar my necklace. Her eyes grow wide as recognition flickers across her features. "Giselle, I can't. Your mother gave this to you, and—"
"Then I hope you'll give it back to her. I'm sure she doesn't want to see me again, and I won't be going back home for a while."
A twinge of anguish flashes in Ash's eyes, and his practiced expression falters. Suddenly, Skylar envelopes me in a suffocating hug. She squeezes so tightly that I think I'm about to pass out. Aside from Kyro, she's the only real friend I've had. Everything fades away for a while. I don't think about the Empyreans, or the war, or the fact that I'll never come back. Ash clears his throat, and I roll my eyes. "Yes, loverboy, go get your girl now."
He throws an imaginary punch at me. Stumbling back, I clutch my heart for dramatic effect. Skylar snorts, and even before she approaches Ash, I'm long gone. They're disgustingly sweet.
By the time I get back, everyone is split according to groups. Regan strides towards me. Her eyes narrow as she grabs my arm and throws my body into the dirt. She picks me up with one arm, her filthy boot pressed against my throat. "Don't you dare show up late again. This will be the first and last time," she snarls. I manage a weak nod, and she releases me. From the corner of my eye, Ash is pinned by one of the twins. Her slick, white fingernails extend to full length. I grimace as they scratch mercilessly across his back.
Though Ash doesn't flinch, sweat is already beading on his forehead. His lips are curled into a small smile. I guess he'll really walk through fire and hell for Skylar.
"Hera, you're up," Regan says to the Chimera Keeper. Hera nods and stalks over to the birthing platform, motioning us to come with her. She moves her hands, and a portal appears. Waves of dark energy leak out as the hole continue growing. "Get in," she barks. We dive head-first into the seemingly infinite expanse. I'm one of the last to step inside. My body becomes weightless, like floating in space.
Then, I land on a cold floor. The small room echoes our groans, and I wince while I move to stand. Cobwebs cling to my skin. Scrawny rats scurry along the passageway. My eyes follow the path of lamps lighting up the way ahead, the smell of blood intensifying with every second. An iron gate stands between us and the other side.
No. Not here again. My breaths grow shallow, and my pulse thrums hard against my ears. The sounds of conversations fade away until all I can see is straight ahead. The darkness beckons me in its embrace.
Mother and Father were held as prisoners here, and when I tried to get them out, I saw what lay in the shadows beyond the gate. On the other side, my brothers were in a pile of corpses. Their faces were ashen, their mouths still open from agony. I saw a path blocked by iron bars, misery, hopelessness, and…
"Giselle, look at me." A pair of strong hands grip my shoulders, but the stupor is still heavy. I blink, registering the concern in Kyro's eyes. My knees grow weak. Gently, he brushes the hair away from my face. "Remember what I said? Slow down and take deep breaths."
Nodding, I turn away from him and face the rest. The others haven't recovered from the portal journey yet, so they're bent over and retching. A stark paleness takes over their faces. Someone collapses in the corner, dry-heaving until tears gather in his eyes. My fingernails dig deep into my palms, and I bite my lip hard enough for a copper taste to fill my mouth.
The pain numbs me.
Ash briefly catches my eye, but he quickly winces and looks away. Kyro gives my hand a squeeze. As the guards draw the metal gate up, his hand brushes against mine to calm me down. Prisoners caged in tiny enclosures let out screams like dying animals. Their bodies are sunken in until their bones strain against skin and flesh. I clench my fists and will myself to drown out the dreadful sounds.
Finally, we stop at the last few enclosures. The prisoners are all slumped against the cage walls. They've given up on life. At least, that's what it looks like. "Please, have mercy," a bearded man says. As he speaks, the mark on his neck begins to glow. Letting my gaze travel over the others, I spot the Empyrean insignia burned into their skin.
Hera tenses. Her hand rests on her weapon. Turning to us, she sends us off to the other prisoners at the back. I come face-to-face with a young girl who begs me to kill her.