Chapter 3 3

I keep my mind empty as the soldiers march me forward, across the blackened earth beneath our feet. I don't let myself feel anything. I don't let myself think anything. I only allow observation.

There are twenty-one soldiers. There is the woman in front of me. There are seven Kinduri.

One me.

One Edan.

The odds are impossible, but I know what I want.

I know what I have to do.

Inside, I find a long hallway. There are doors that break off from it. But surrounding me is black floor, black walls, and black ceiling. Small, yellow lights are affixed to the walls every so often, but they don't feel sufficient. I feel like I'm walking into a cave.

I steal a glance to my side to look at Edan and see how he's handling all this. He only looks straight ahead, his shoulders slightly hunched forward. His expression is determined.

Slam. He's good at this.

I'll forever be grateful for that day I ran into him on Laziria. I need a mad partner in crime.

The hall is endless. Before too long, there are bodies lining up in the hall. More and more and more Kinduri.

I feel their soulless gaze on me. I try not to, but still I meet their eyes.

How could anyone choose to do this to themselves? How could it ever be worth it?

On and on we follow the woman, past dozens of doors. I'm starting to get antsy. Do we really have to walk through the entire Compound to reach Cyrillius? I thought we had landed in his own courtyard.

Finally, there ahead, I see the space open. He has to be there. But the hallway narrows just before it opens to the space. Bodies crowd through, bottlenecking. Soldiers and Edan shove up against me, everyone anxious to be firmly present when Cyrillius sets eyes on the woman he's been after for lunars, sees that she has finally been brought in to meet justice.

It stinks. Like sweat and death and war as I'm crowded. I feel like I can't breathe.

I'm shoved forward and I try not to trip over myself as I'm marched right into the middle of the huge room.

He may only be the president of a massive company, but like he's a slam king, Cyrillius sits on a black throne in the middle of the huge room.

His russet-colored hair is neatly done. His dark gray suit is neatly pressed. He sits poised and calm, only betrayed by a gleam of excitement in his eyes.

All the Neron deposits on Isroth may have been mined out decades ago, but Neron is everywhere. In our clothing. In each of the soldier's weapons. In the stones beneath our feet.

I can feel it. My blood calls to it, and it calls to me.

My hands are still bound behind my back, but I twist my fingers, taking possession of just a little bit of the Neron arcing from that rod.

I just begin flattening it out, forming it into a spear, when something screams in my brain.

My eyes squeeze closed and I want to put my hands to my head, but they're still bound behind my back. The breath catches in my throat and I cringe in on myself.

Screams. There are eerie screams echoing in my head.

Even though my eyes are closed, there are flashes of light. I let them slide open, and find my vision distorted. Everyone around me looks wrong. Their faces are long and stretched out. Their mouths are open wide-too wide. So wide they could swallow me whole.

Their eyes are entirely white and...blurry.

The light flashes white and then black and white and black.

I try to suck in a breath, but it's impossible. My mouth is stuck open in a horrified O.

I stagger back two steps, trying to get away from...everyone, with their terrifying stretched out forms, their open, gaping mouths.

What's happening?

What is happening?

But as I blink, and finally suck in a breath, everyone has returned to their normal selves.

No one is stretched, no one's mouths have opened ten times wider than should be possible.