“Friends.” He seems bothered by this turn of conversation. I’m not sure what to say. They’re not my friends, though I wouldn’t mind that with Stranna.
“They don’t stink, you know,” he adds.
“What?”
“Olivia, Stranna’s sister, told me what citizens say about them. That they stink and that they kidnapped me. It’s not true.”
“You’re young.”
He stops in the open doorway that leads outside. “You think I’m stupid.”
I should have bit my tongue. “Of course not. But where are your parents? What happened to them? They could be out there”—I gesture outside—“waiting and looking for you.”
“They’re dead.”
“Oh.”
“A lot of our parents died in the Tunnels, but Stranna and Jeremy fought the nightbeasts and got us out from the wheat field. They gave us a home until the Emperor and his tirones attacked us. Every time he attacks, they protect us, and they make us a new home later.”
“How many times has he attacked?”
“Four.”
“But he doesn’t kill anyone, right?”
“Sometimes his soldiers kill the older ones. Like me. Sometimes they turn us into noxiors like they did to Olivia. They take the littlest ones away, and we never see them again.”
Because Luc reunites them with their families. I’ve seen it. But that doesn’t explain why he’d let his tirones kill the older kids.
“Olivia came back. So I hope that means we’ll be able to rescue more. I’m finally old enough to fight.” He puffs out his chest, and something inside me dies. This kid fights? “Erik and Jeremy have been teaching me.”
“Why do the Emperor’s men want to kill you?”
“I can’t wake up anymore.” We exit the catacombs, and the gray gloom seems brighter compared to the dark tunnels. Everett points. “The phoenix’s nest is up that hill.”
“Thanks.”
“Okay, well, bye.” He disappears back into the catacombs before I can ask any more questions. Not that I need more answers. There is plenty to ponder right now. Luc’s tirones rescue only the young kids who can wake and sleep at will. I saw Olivia in the Arena. I knew she’d been turned into a noxior, yet I never asked Luc why.
Everett didn’t sound deceived or brainwashed. He sounded like he was telling his tiny life story the same way he might talk about spending a day at the park. He was childlike. Open.
I reach the phoenix, and she raises her head at the sound of my feet. I put up my hands and talk softly.
“I was told you could take me back.” She narrows an eye at me, and for a moment I wonder if she’ll peck me. But then she spreads her wings and gives a little shake, like she’s preparing for flight.
I cautiously climb on her back. It takes a moment to yank my feet from the ground as the roots from my soles hold tight to the stony surface. The phoenix squirms, and I wonder—can she feel the roots?
She leaps into the air with rough flaps, and it’s all I can do to hold on to the harness. She circles a bit to gain height, and now that I’m not blindfolded or holding a wounded Stranna on her back, I take in my surroundings.
The catacombs aren’t very impressive from above. They look like nothing more than a derelict ruin of an unfinished amphitheater. The tunnels and maze are below the earth. I scan the terrain beyond the catacombs. It’s hard to see far in the darkness, but a glimmer at eye height catches my attention.
A star.
Light.
The phoenix swoops toward the coliseum, away from the blinking star. I gently tug the harness, and to my surprise, she obeys and turns. We head toward the glimmer. The sky is a dark gray—not quite dark enough to be midnight, but not light enough to be dawn. I lean low on the phoenix, and she drops closer to the ground.
In a matter of seconds, we glide a distance that would take me a quarter of an hour to walk. I scan the space ahead for the star, but now the golden gleam comes from the ground. We near, and I see it’s a wheat field. The stalks of wheat are fully grown and ready for plucking. More than that, they seem illuminated—not by sunlight but by themselves. It’s light and welcoming. This must be the field Everett was talking about.
The phoenix circles over it, but as she glides around the farthest side something clips her wing and smashes my leg. We hit a wall with a jolt. A window? The phoenix is thrown from the sky, and we spin.
A few flaps and she manages to slow her momentum just enough to pull off a rough landing.
For the second time today I tumble from her back. Instead of landing on stone, I’m cushioned by wheat stalks. I jump to my feet and look around. I don’t see the wall we hit, but my throbbing leg tells me it wasn’t my imagination. The phoenix picks at her feathers and favors one wing, but it doesn’t look broken.
Thank goodness. Stranna would kill me.
I catch my breath and take in my location. Now that I’m in the bright wheat, it feels almost like I’m standing in daylight. Somehow it is sunlight—contained within the stalks themselves. Glowing around me and warming my face like a perfect summer day. I close my eyes and soak it in. Emotion pricks at my throat and my eyes.
I miss the sun.
I miss light.
I don’t get it in the Real World anymore because of the timing of my Sleeps, and my bones have begun to ache for it. I open my eyes again and breathe out, long and slow. This is where I want to live. If I have to put my body in a LifeSuPod and build some Nightmare house to dwell in, this is where I want it to be—in this field.
I pluck a head of wheat and rub it in my hands until the small thin shells fall from the grains. Then I chew them. I’ve never done this before, but somehow I understand it. The grain is sweet and chewy and brings a comfort wholly separate from sustenance. I do it again.
A growl breaks the peaceful moment.
