Chapter 9

Raising my head to the sky, I stop short of collapsing while I catch my breath. Then, a flash of movement catches my eye. It's from one of the observation towers made to look like trees. Then, I see it again. Behind the viewing glass, something glistens like Eorius's rays peeking through holes in the foliage. I squint at the object, only to realize that it's a cup held by a massive man. Slipping his thick fingers around the steaming beverage, the man lifts it to his lips and leans against the windows. He stares at us, scratching his chin absently like he doesn't know why he's here.

He's one of the politicians invited here to discuss trade deals. I don't understand how Proxy thinks that would work. Our society is barely standing as it is, and now we're trying to fix a non-existent economy.

Directing my gaze back to the artificial sky, I watch it pixelate and dissolve, revealing an endless expanse of murky shadows. Someone spins me around. I nearly cry out as my old ankle injury flares up again, but I rein in the gasp that threatens to escape. Jax bends down, checking my face for injuries before moving to my arms.

The intensity of his gaze doesn't let up though I'm already healing just fine. Once he's done with his inspection, I mend his injuries and focus on the visions, holding onto them before they fade out of my mind's grasp. I see myself with golden hair. Blue tendrils of light trace the paths of my veins, and they spread over Jax's body until his eyes turn a deep cerulean color. There's a pull in my chest, but it's gone almost as soon as I feel it.

Jax's voice jolts me back to reality. "What happened to your ankle?"

I never told him about what happened that day. My body had healed enough, and I didn't want to fuss over it.

He grunts at my silence, but I know he'll press me for an answer later. Xavier appears as a hologram in the sky. "Your test performance will be analyzed and used to make a serum. Each vial is tailored according to your needs. Once it's injected, you'll have the same strength and speed as everyone else so that the Trials will be fair."

"So why not just give it to us and get it over with instead? Why go through all this?" someone asks.

"If we don't know how much you need, you could die from an overdose. At best, you'd be in a coma."

I shift uncomfortably, still keeping my gaze on Xavier's glowing face. He finally lowers his hologram to the ground. "Make sure you're ready for a discussion this evening. That's the final thing we need to settle before the Trials begin."

The guards force us to get moving, using their rifles to shove us along until we're back at the dormitories. Esper follows me and shuts the door in their faces, only to head outside again for some air when they leave. I lean against the wall, slumping to the ground with my head in my hands.

As the adrenaline high wears off, my muscles burn with fatigue, and a headache starts to throb in my temples. My throat is dry like sandpaper. The odor of copper fills my nose until it hurts to breathe. With a groan, I start another shower and lose myself in my own world. The fresh bars of soap fill the tiny glass cubicle with the scent of roses and bergamot. Since most flowers here are synthetic or born out of a scientist's hands, that's the most natural thing I've smelled in years.

I scrub the grime and sweat from my body. The soapy lather swirls down the drain, taking the dirt from Proxy's experiments. Though the sponge they've given us is coarse enough to open scabs, a clean lab rat means the researchers can't insist on a scrub-down session anymore. I rub the misted glass and stare at my identification bracelet sitting on a dry stack of towels. The faded digits on the band still bear my serial number at the Institution. Subject 42.

Back when Proxy tested me for the Healing mutation, Cleo wiped my body down with a rough cloth before every session. I always came out of them with bright, red welts that made showers impossible, and never once did the researcher address me by name.

"How are you feeling, Subject 42?" That was the first question she routinely began with.

"Like death."

"Do the tests hurt?"

"You wish."

She never liked my responses, and seeing her red-faced was my only consolation in that prison. Wiping myself down, I change into my final set of clothes and ignore the silk pajamas sitting on the counter. Esper has already used hers the night before, and I don't know why she'd wear anything that Proxy gives us. They could provide the most comfortable thing in existence, but my pride doesn't let me take the bait.

Before I settle on the bed, I hear some light footsteps outside, and someone slips a piece of paper beneath the door. It's a coded message with random circles and dots, so I know it's from Jax.

Aria, the Proxy, is moving the surrogates deeper inside the Sanctuary. Now's the last chance to see Sierra. We'll meet in the gardens.

Drawing the curtains apart, I watch some people roaming about in the garden fields. Others test the guards' patience by leaning against the fence. I throw on my jacket and step outside. Lightning splits the sky, and thunder punishes my eardrums with its deafening rhapsody. The first drops of rain land on my skin, but the fickle clouds don't unleash a full downpour just yet. Jax stands at the edge of a small pond.

A smile touches his lips when he sees me, and he gestures for me to hurry. He grabs my hand, leading me to the empty train station. This earns us a few curious stares from the guards, but he plays it off by talking about random things of the past. Though he speaks with a smile, I can tell it's strained, and there's a slight tic to his jaw. Once we're finally out of earshot, he gestures in the distance, where the Sentinels are busy piling the surrogates into buses. Squinting into the distance, I search for a small figure among the stragglers, but it's impossible to see much from here.

"She's probably gone by now," I say dryly.

"Not yet."

I'm about to ask how he knows when he chuckles and shakes his head. "Aria, just trust me. There's no way I'll mess this up."

"Famous last words," I murmur. He pretends not to hear me, and we continue staring straight ahead. Still, there's no luck for a long while. As rain starts to pelt against my skin, I pull my jacket tighter around me, and we retreat to the nearest shelter. Now, all the surrogates are reduced to mere shadows in a misty, gray backdrop. While we wait, Jax turns to me with a question in his eyes, gesturing to my leg and waiting for an answer. "Was it Xavier? Did he do that to you?"

I tell him the truth about the injury. It was from a fight requested by the Faceless—people who pay premiums to choose which fighters they want in a match. After that, all traces of their transaction disappear, so they remain invisible and out of the law's reach. Jax takes the truth better than I thought, but the tension never leaves his body as he nods. "Still, you should've told me."

"You would've beaten him to a pulp, and Jax, don't waste your time on that guy or anyone else who doesn't matter."

He sighs, threading his calloused fingers with mine while watching the guards change shifts. "Bet you didn't expect this." He brings us back into the downpour and walks to a corner of the fence. Reaching down, he untangles the thorny weeds to reveal a door to the train's underground maintenance room. After a few tries, the makeshift catch springs open, and we slip inside. There's a faint rustling on the other side, but Jax grins. "That's Seth. He'll cover for us while we're here."

My fingers grip the rusty ladder rungs until they grow numb. The small lamp above is so dim that I can't see the whole way down. Each step is unsteady, and I take the final leap when I can't feel the last rung anymore. The ground scrapes my hands. I hiss at the scathing warmth on my palms.

"Aria, is that you?"

I hear her before I see her. Sierra races towards me, her movements triggering the light sensors and flooding the place with an ambient glow. She throws herself into my arms and giggles through her tears. I wipe her cheeks while Sierra keeps her iron grip around my shoulders. Slowly, she pulls back and smiles. "Are you coming back with us?"

"She can't, but she'll visit soon," someone says from behind Sierra. I look up to meet her silver gaze. She's still bundled in the same cloak as when I first saw her. Tugging on her hood, she pushes her damp hair out of her face and gives my hand a firm shake. "I'm Genevieve, Sierra's surrogate guardian."

"How—"

She points over her shoulder at Meredith, who's too busy pinching her son's cheeks to notice. "I had some help, and Sierra said she misses you." Genevieve settles on the ground, patting the spot next to her. I choose to stand instead, but that doesn't wipe the smile from her face. "We paid someone to smuggle us in a cargo train, and we got in from the other door. Don't worry about it."

"I thought you'd introduce yourself as Sierra's new mom, but you didn't," I say dryly.

"You need to decide for yourselves, and I won't force you to accept me. It's because you don't understand why I'd bring Sierra here and don't know what to feel about it."

"I'm guessing your mutation helps you read thoughts."

"More like feeling your emotions. Believe what you want, Aria, but I hope you'll give me a chance to talk when you're ready." She shoots me a terse smile as she moves to stand, dusting the dirt off her clothes. "Just in case you're wondering, no one saw you get in here."

"How do you know?" I ask warily. My tone is sharp, but I don't care. Surrogates work for Proxy, so they're both the same to me.

Genevieve's eyes burn a bright blue color. Slowly, the heavy drumming of rain eases into a light patter before breaking into a full thunderstorm again. "I made sure they didn't."

Proxy uses mutants like her to control the weather at the Sanctuary. I'm about to back away when she reaches for me. Her eyes are now fading to a muted gray. Rolling up her sleeves, she exposes bright red welts on her skin and lines of scars from her wrist to her arms. Genevieve gathers her hair in a bun, showing Proxy's eagle insignia burned into her neck. Blood trickles from the emblem until a long trail soaks into her wet dress, and she wipes it away.

"That's what I get for messing up the weather schedule."

My finger traces a tentative path over Genevieve's scars, stopping at the largest one that extends across her elbow. "What about all these?"

"Proxy gave them to me a while ago...for going against protocol."

Meredith suddenly rests her hand on my shoulder and hugs me so tightly that I'm sure my insides will burst. She grabs hold of Jax and me, guiding us to a nearby generator, humming softly in the corner. Here, I can't see anything except a faint glimmer outlining her features and the swirling aura that shrouds most of her body. "Take this with you when the Trials start. That way, I can find you if anything happens." She presses a small metallic box in my hand. It's a tracker.

"What's happening out there?" Jax asks.

Meredith shrugs, but her face betrays her worry. "The Sun from the outside world is starting to come out again. The winter is letting up, and Proxy thinks that the Sanctuary's glass might not be able to handle the heat. So, they evacuated the surrogates first since that's where the heat is the worst right now."

"What about the false immunes?"

"They're everywhere now. We want more safe zones but don't have the resources to do that." She ends that with a sigh. "If anything happens, I'm making sure you're both coming back in one piece, so you'd better keep that tracker on you."

I turn it around in my hand, feeling the weight of it before stuffing it into the pockets of my jeans. Jax does the same. The sound of a train chugging on the tracks nearly drowns out her words—Genevieve shifts beside me, and Sierra clutches my shirt.

A few loud raps from the trapdoor jolts me out of my thoughts. Everyone stiffens while the knocks grow harder and more urgent. "Time to move. That's Seth's signal." Jax whispers. Everyone else nods like they're a part of a grand plan. Sierra coils her arms around my legs, pressing her warm cheeks against my cold body. It's a final goodbye, and I cling to her, not letting go until the door reveals Seth's sweaty face. He gestures to climb outside. Meredith leads Sierra and Genevieve to a small shed near the guard post.

Just before they leave, I grab Genevieve's hand. "Thanks for bringing Sierra here."

She cracks a small smile before catching up with the others, the rain washing her silhouette into the dreary backdrop of the sky.

Meredith speaks to the guard. The ancient, bearded man tips his hat slightly, walking with them to one of the parked trains in the back. It's one painted with a bright shade of blue and a hideous splash of purple, so I know it leads to one of the factories near the Void. Sierra waves at me, but Genevieve yanks her inside the carriage. Before the doors are closed, I watch them squeezing into a wooden crate.

Seth falls into step with Jax and me while we walk in the rain. A warning chime rings out from there. The piercing alarm is the same as what we had at the Institution, signaling the start of whatever's next. Still, no one bothers to go any faster. "Did you like it?" Jax asks.

I nod slowly. "But what happens if Proxy finds out about them?"

He doesn't get a chance to say anything before the guards split us up and take us back to the dormitories. Esper's belongings are packed in a black trash bag, and her bed is made. The sheets are tucked neatly beneath the thin mattress, and the blanket is pulled up, exactly like when we first came in. There's a tag with her name on it, fastened to the side of her bag.

My belongings are gone now, and there's only a black dress suit folded neatly on the bed, courtesy of Proxy. I slip it on quickly, adjusting the wingtip collar and fastening the pins to the cufflinks. Smoothing out the creases, I stare back at myself in the mirror. My cheeks are slightly hollowed out, and my chapped lips are flaking. Shadows are just starting to form beneath my skin.

"We know you're ready. Please step outside and follow us." A hoarse voice comes from the other side of the door, and I can vaguely make out the shape of a rifle behind a bulky silhouette.

The door slams open, and the guards hook their arms roughly around mine. A cleaner puts my clothes into the bag and attaches a note to it. Then, she grabs Esper's belongings and peels away from our group to the washing facility, never making eye contact with me. I'm on my own again.

Our footsteps are muffled as we walk to a set of double doors.