Chapter 1

Part I: Inception

She skims her fingers over her husband's chapped lips. Delicate, fluttering snowflakes cling to the man's eyelashes. His face is paler than the icy tundra, a quivering smile inching across his features. "Take care of our boy, Love. I know he'll be beautiful like you."

Lifting a bruised hand to the woman's cheek, he catches her tears for the last time. The widow pulls her hood over her head, and soon, her sobs fill the bleak expanse of now-crimson snow. Howling winds share in her sorrow, bending the trees with their mournful song, surrounding her with a deathly harmony of whistles.

The screen goes blank, so we can't gather much else from the young mother's memories. I turn around and watch as she stirs awake. Soon, the clarity returns to her eyes, and she studies us through the lowered privacy glass. The copper taste of blood stings my tongue, but I can't stop biting the inside of my cheeks.

Nurse Savannah grabs my hand, digging her fingers into my wrist until it grows numb. "Think about this, Aria. Do the right thing," she whispers. My gaze flickers to the surveillance camera, and a knot forms in my chest.

Is it better to take away a painful memory or let her live with it?

A Healer hands me a new syringe and a vial of silver-colored liquid. Swallowing the lump in my throat, I take tentative steps towards the bed, watching the mother as she stares off into space. She claims to be from the outside world, telling stories of whole cities and life in the great unknown. No one believes her, and neither do I. Rumors of her lunacy still plague my mind.

"You have ten seconds until your evaluation is over. Make a decision immediately." The automated voice echoes from the speakers in the ceiling. The mother squeezes my arm and holds my gaze. "Please let me remember him." Her voice is still raspy and weak from childbirth. Sweat trickles down her forehead and disappears into her hair. She shakes her head at the syringe in my hand.

The needle looks like it's taunting me. Crushing the vial of liquid beneath my feet, I watch as the silver substance spills over the marble floor and seeps into Nurse Savannah's shoes. The Healers scribble furiously on their evaluation tablets. Ignoring their stares across the room, I make my way to the bassinet and pick up the child's stiff body. My heart clenches at his peaceful expression. His olive skin is tan underneath the lights, and his pale lips are slightly parted. Dark eyelashes tease his cheekbones in their eternal slumber. The mother takes the baby and gives me a grateful nod. I quickly look away, not wanting to intrude on the moment.

If they can heal her, then what about the boy?

Healers can't deal with every sickness, but they can buy time. Whether it's hours or days, I think any of that's better than nothing. A familiar ache starts in my chest, but I push it away. Nurse Savannah now cradles the stillborn in her arms, and her face is still flushed as she glares at me over her shoulder. Reluctantly, she places the child in the bassinet and covers his body with a white cloth.

A layer of glass seals the child inside, allowing the chemicals to engulf his body in a white, billowing cloud of embalming compounds. Nurse Savannah wheels him away, and I'm left to my thoughts. I let out a breath and study the red blinking light on the ceiling. As the seconds stretch on, I bounce on my heels, nibbling on my cracked fingernails and staring at anywhere except the clock.

Then, the door clicks open, letting in a sliver of light from the hallway.

Keeping my gaze fixed straight ahead, I wrinkle my nose at the smell of bleach and antiseptic. The whitewashed walls make me sick. As a lump quickly forms in my throat, I descend the stairs until I reach the courtyard. Healers wander around in their training uniforms, careful to make the small talk discreet. Sticking close to the fence, I run my fingers across the gleaming surface and keep my eyes peeled.

One section sticks out from the bushes. I pull the loosened piece and slip through, securing it with a rope. Life on the other side is a breath of fresh air. Smiling to myself, I race through the vegetation. Thorns scratch against my legs, and the trees rub their dew onto my clothes. Freshly cut grass lends a crispness to the air. Glowing insects cling to the trees and drink in their sap.

The Institution is a maze of walls and metal structures, but it's also home to one of the most fanciful gardens I'd seen in a while.

I collapse in the green paradise, moving my arms and legs until they form soil angels. If I ignore the texture, I could imagine this as snow. A grin spreads across my lips. For once, I don't care that I'm acting like a child or that I smell disgusting. This soil feels like the most natural thing in the concrete prison. It's here that I can think about anything I want, and no one would stick me with a needle for daydreaming. While a soft breeze caresses my skin, I close my eyes and glimpse the faces of my nightmares. Some of them are ridden with scars and blood. Others are paler than ghosts. As the images gnaw at my mind, a deep chime reverberates off the suffocating walls. The Institution's bell screams at me to get up.

If I'm lucky, I might eventually find out who these people are.

Groaning, I push off the ground and head towards the clearing until a gray building looms ahead. Pressing my lips together to stop them from quivering, I step inside the main lobby. The Sentinels mill about in their black and khaki combat uniforms. They're the ones with the strength and speed mutations, making them ideal candidates for our measly defense force. Those with rumpled outfits are probably done with their evaluations while the others pace around and wait their turn. I look down at my filthy clothes, feeling the heat rushing to my cheeks. Steeling myself, I press on.

Nothing except a few tables and chairs make up the main lobby, so it isn't long before some of the Sentinels give me curious looks. Someone smacks me on the head, and I whirl around. "Coming to see Jax?" A boy studies me, grinning while he picks a twig from my hair. His sandy-blonde hair holds two red streaks on either side of his head, and they hook around his ears and stop at his collarbone.

I clench my jaw and bolt for the training room. There's a back path that Jax showed me before, but it passes through the restricted area before leading to the small shed. This time, the ground feels different. It lacks the bumps and ridges of natural terrain, and the plants that brush against my legs are rough like sandpaper. Bare trees hang their branches low, the mahogany tendrils reaching for me but never grazing my skin. From here, the wooded labyrinth branches out in a thousand different directions, but I always go straight.

This place is predictable that way.

Voices cut through the silence, and I pump my legs faster. While my muscles burn for air, I ignore the fatigue that pulls at my body. Slipping between the brick walls, I creep into the back entrance of an old wooden shed. It could look like a logger's cabin if not for the red cross and the line beneath it-the Sentinels' insignia.

Taking one last glance behind me, I push the door open and slip inside. Someone pulls me in. My face collides with a hard chest, and a hand snakes around my wrist. "Aria, it's me," Jax says, and I can hear the laughter in his voice.

Someone kicks the door open. It's that boy again. His sweaty hair is plastered to his forehead, and the red markings are even more prominent now. Planting both hands on his hips, he curses colorfully.

"Who's the slow one now, Seth?" Jax waggles his eyebrows. Seth scowls at him, and I can tell he's trying to hold back an insult. I catch a glimpse of his reddening ears and chuckle to myself, only growing quiet when he fixes his gaze on mine. Jax mentioned him once during their initiation ceremony. Seth could fight with his eyes closed and win a match.

"Where did you learn to run like that?" Seth asks.

A smug smile crosses my lips. Draping an arm over my shoulder, Jax chuckles, "I don't think you've met-"

"Easy, tiger, I know all about your girlfriend," Seth says with a smirk.

I sputter. Jax's face turns slightly pink, and he shakes his head. "Let's get on with it. We're graduating tomorrow, so I thought we could make a trip to the markets. With all the credits we've got, I think we can get about six months' supply of food for cheap."

That's nothing compared to last year's harvest. Back then, everyone got nine months' worth of food, but every day was a struggle after that honeymoon period. While the rich can easily get imported food supplies, we survived on a mixture of their pity scraps and the government's meager rations.

I play with a loosened shoelace, busying my hands while a dark realization creeps into my mind.

This year will worsen for Sierra, especially since the government assigned her to a surrogate family. When food runs low, it's every man for himself. Letting out a long breath, I clench my fists until my nails dig into my palms. "You know what? Maybe I should find a way to get Sierra out of here."

Jax sighs and runs a hand through his hair. "Aria, you know you can't do that."

"It doesn't hurt to try anyway."

He grabs my hand, gently tilting my face until I've no choice but to meet his eyes. "Think with your head, not with your fists."

I nod mutely and let the words sink in. Seth shifts uncomfortably in his seat. Clearing his throat, he stands up and dusts himself off, gesturing to the door. "We should go soon."

Today marks the peak of the Summer Equinox. It lasts a few months when the Earth is the most fertile and the crops are most abundant.

Once we're in the gardens again, Jax takes the lead and follows a path among the trees. A flurry of lights filters through the thinning foliage, and I clamp my mouth shut to stop a squeal. Jax and Seth bust the power to the gates, buying us a few precious seconds to hop over. Electricity still tingles in my fingertips as we scale the gates and land on the other side.

Tonight is my last night here. I let that thought sink in as I weave through the crowd, watching as people haggle for the lowest prices.

Discount signs lure my gaze into the tents with crates of fresh produce. Some stall owners discreetly dust their fruits with appearance enhancers, so the goods look flawless until we bring them home. I recognize the deft movement of their hands, so I'm not taking my chances in the main market square.

A group gathers on the stage, swaying to the melody of the lyres and harps. In a vision of twirling skirts and graceful movements, the dancers perform effortlessly in a series of pirouettes and dizzying routines. Everything melds together in a whirlwind of laughter and colors.

Along the way, the boys break apart, and Seth waves goodbye to us before disappearing into the crowd.

Jax falls into step with me, and we take the familiar path to the home at the end of the road. With only one floor, the brick house is one of the smallest. I'm dragging my feet across the cobblestone, trying not to think about how we'll pack up and leave without turning back. The pulsing sounds of the party fade away into the young night. Gold flakes flutter in the breeze and kiss our skin. More of them fall from above, and I look up to see children on the balconies. They dip into their buckets and sprinkle confetti over the passersby.

Grinning, I scoop up some from the pavement and shove them in Jax's face. He narrows his eyes and crouches, dipping his hand into the golden pile. Backing away, I hold up my hands in mock surrender. The flakes fly to my face, but I duck and make a break for it. Jax tackles me to the ground. Writhing and squirming beneath his weight, I almost return the favor, but his hand closes around mine. He dips his head and whispers huskily, "Truce?"

"Never."

I elbow him in the gut and twist out of the way. We frolic in the field, nearly bumping or knocking into other people, and they shift away with a scowl. I accidentally kick his side. He groans and drags me down, his eyes holding an unspoken warning. That was a mistake. I'm a Healer who doesn't know how to fight, and that's what everyone else should believe. Nodding, I extend a hand to Jax, trying not to think about the onlookers. Instead, I force myself to focus on why we're here.

We don't need to walk for long before a lone figure appears. Giselle leans against the stall. It's almost like she doesn't want people to notice her, but we know better than that. Her disheveled hair forms a curtain around her face, and a puff of blue smoke rises from her inhaler. Beneath the crimson rays of the Equinox moon, her skin starts to glow. It's a mutation she's self-conscious about, so she usually hides it beneath thick layers of makeup. She doesn't bother with that tonight.

Giselle pauses mid-puff and turns to face us with a ghost of a smile. Though the blue vapor makes her forgetful, she never misses a beat with our usual haul of groceries.

Jax and I take off our identification bracelets, transferring the credits to her account. With a sigh, I watch as the balance dwindles to zero, and I tell myself that she isn't running a charity. She writes us our collection slips and files them away in the thick binder. "Those will be ready by next week. Delivery to the Rune" -she points to Jax- "and Nyx sectors." Tipping her pen towards me, she stares at the sheet and waits for us to sign the invoices. Until the end, it's still all business and no teary goodbyes.

Dirt billows beneath our feet as we stroll to our dormitories. Rusted fences separate the dense living areas into sectors. The Void gets the largest space since it's home to surrogate families. Walking further into the dreary neighborhoods, I watch the buildings stretch and twist higher, the older structures now standing in crooked spirals to the clouds. The blinking tower ahead marks the beginning of the Rune. I'm starting to slow down so Jax can get back in time for dinner, but he shakes his head with a wry smile. "Nice try, but I'm always walking you home first."

I steal a glance at the Nyx sector. It's a ghost town since almost all the Healers are at the festival, and the last thing I want is to come home to an empty house again. Instead, I'm thinking of watching the blizzard until the gates shut for the night. After being under the Institution's control, I wonder what it feels like to take a risk and slip through the gates too close to the government's curfew time. Just then, Jax gestures ahead. "Lead the way, Aria. I'm not ready to go back either."

"Was I that obvious?"

He grins and falls into step with me as we round a corner, starting down the bustling street leading to the Capital City. The once-pristine skyscrapers are now reduced to steel and concrete skeletons, their scant windows still shedding the occasional glass shards. Drudgers aren't like us with dedicated neighborhoods. Instead, they live among the financial district's remains, making the old bank buildings and office towers their new homes. The unlucky ones settle in the small dwellings tucked away in the dingy alleyways, the abandoned shophouses, or the shady motels just shy of the city's outskirts.

My gaze flickers back to the outside world. As the snowstorm rages on, I press my nose against the city's icy barrier, longing to feel raw nature beneath my feet and the winds gliding over my skin.

It will never happen again. No one knows how long it'll be before the nuclear winter ends, so we can finally venture beyond this dome. Aside from the salvaged plants and trees, everything else is synthetic. Since we haven't seen the Sun in three years, we now have an artificial one called Eorius. As I stare at the holographic sky, a musty scent wafts to my nose, and I resist the urge to gag. There's no such thing as miracle air to make the radiation go away. Still, we breathe it every day, trying to convince ourselves that it helps somehow.

"They're at it again," Jax says. He points straight ahead, and my gaze flits to the Sanctuary across from us. Bright splashes of green paint drip down the glass, and someone spreads the color with their hands, leaving streaks across the transparent surface. I guess they're tired of seeing the snow. It's a city trapped within a dome, like Atlantis in a snow globe. Beams of celebratory beacons shine down on its Equinox markets. Neon lights adorn the skyscrapers and streets, and a glimmering river slithers through the area. The silver serpent powers homes with the force of its raging currents.

If I had a choice, I'd never want to go there.