The Genesis Wars Read online

  A woman with silver-streaked hair and weathered hands waves at me from the nearby teahouse. Güzide—procurer of the most mouthwatering baklava I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting. The humans in the Borderlands all come from a time before Ophelia, but Güzide is nearly as old as Mama Nan. She lived before the first steam trains.

  She’s been kind to me. Kinder than most.

  But all I see is the sigil on her robes: a stag’s skull crowned with twigs. The Bone Clan.

  And today the Bone Clan voted to leave.

  Güzide beckons me closer, motioning toward a tray of silver teacups and a tower of honeyed sweets. “Come and sit down, Nami. Have some tea.” She smiles, and wrinkles blossom all over her face. “You’re always training,” she notes, voice as silken as a rose petal. “I worry about you.”

  It was easy enough to get sucked into this world of peace and simplicity in those first weeks here. But it felt just as wrong then as it does now. Annika, Ahmet, Shura, Theo, Yeong, and all the others… They’re still at the mercy of the Residents. They still need me.

  I don’t care how wonderful the baklava is—I won’t become complacent.

  I’m shifting away from Güzide and all the lovely scents that come with her offer, ready to move on, when I hear a familiar voice from inside the teahouse. I turn slightly to peer through the glassless windows, and I find Artemis seated at a crowded table near the back.

  Wavy locks of unnaturally golden hair flow past his shoulders. He tilts his head back, laughter pouring out in operatic tones, demanding the room’s attention. It’s something he already has far too much of.

  If the Border Clans abandon this place, it will be his fault.

  I’ve trained harder than anyone should in a single day, but I can still do more. I pull up a veil and duck into the teahouse, hidden from sight.

  Weaving around the wooden tables, I move the way Kasia taught me—with light feet and an impenetrable focus. The best way to cover my tracks is to not leave them at all. Not that anyone would see my footprints in the teahouse: the floors are solid, dark, and stained with drink. But I need all the practice I can get.

  Maybe someday I’ll be able to move through walls, too, the way Mama Nan does. Half corporeal, half spirit.

  The mask I wore wasn’t enough to stop the Residents. It doesn’t matter that I can control it better than ever before, morphing my appearance as easily as I can morph my clothes. My face was never the key to ending the war—and I have no desire to look anything other than human.

  Next time I face the Residents, I plan to arm myself with more weapons than they’ll know what to do with.

  The sharp tang of wine reaches my nose, and a flash of a ballroom erupts in my mind. Perfect faces. Twirling gowns. A crown of silver branches.

  I sneer, and brush past a human raising a glass in the air. He looks over his shoulder at the movement, slightly confused, but returns to his toast quick enough.

  Pride rustles behind my rib cage.

  “I’m surprised to see you in such high spirits, Artemis,” a woman remarks behind a plate of tea cakes. “Didn’t the Bone Clan lose the vote again?”

  Artemis sips from a silver tumbler. “It’s a delay, not a loss. In the end, we will follow our ancestors into the Afterlands, just as it was always intended.”

  Across the table, Cyrus and Mira shake their heads disapprovingly, their religious robes varying in shades of purple. Most of the Faithful hail from the Mirror Clan—both led by a man named Tavi—but some wear the sigils of other clans too.

  These two are unmistakably the former.

  “It is our duty to guide humans to safety,” Mira says evenly. “If we don’t keep the port open, they’ll never know the way.”

  “We owe the younglings nothing.” Artemis sets his cup down, hand running through his golden hair. “Ophelia was not of our creation. Why should it be our job to play ferryman for all eternity?” A rumble of agreement fills the room, making my skin crawl. “We did what we could, in the beginning, but it has been many lifetimes since the First War. The Border Clans deserve to move on.”

  Cyrus draws a breath, prickling. “You don’t speak for everyone. The Salt and Mirror Clans—”

  “The Salt Clan shouldn’t even have a vote,” someone chimes in from another table. A member of the Bone Clan, judging by his collar. “That girl failed her people. She has no clan left.”

  I want to rip off my veil and defend Kasia, but she wouldn’t want it. She still thinks these people are her family. And maybe they are.

  The Colony wasn’t perfect, but they were my family too. And I would tear Infinity apart to find them again. To make sure they’re safe.

  I stay under the veil, cursing the man’s words in silence.

  Mira lifts her chin, nose pointed in the air. “Kasia is still a clan leader. And every leader gets a vote.”

  “Something else that needs to change,” another woman says, earning a round of slow applause. “Why should only four people decide the fate of hundreds?”

  “Why should hundreds decide the fate of millions?” Cyrus counters. “Who will vote for the younglings? For all those yet to be reborn in Infinity?”

  “This battle with technology and artificial life was their own doing,” the woman barks back. “Let them face the consequences of what they have built.”

  The applause grows louder, and I lock my knees in place, too angry to breathe.

  But Cyrus doesn’t waver. If he knows he’s lost the room, he doesn’t care. “Every human deserves a path to redemption. The way of the Mirror Clan will never change—and neither will our vote.”

  “Are you sure about that?” Artemis’s eyes twinkle. “I’d wager you hardly know your own clan these days. When’s the last time you had a conversation with anyone outside the Faithful?”

  Cyrus holds up his hands. “Is this not a conversation?”

  Artemis’s grin is devilishly feline. “No. This is a moral interrogation. Something I truly hoped had died when the original faiths did.”

  Mira narrows her eyes. “Our faiths have not died—they have merged. It is better to respect one another for what we do know rather than reject one another for what we don’t.”

  “If you want to spend the rest of your eternity in prayer, I won’t stop you,” Artemis says coolly. “But don’t pretend you give a damn about mutual respect when you’ve spent the last several hundred lifetimes treating anyone outside the Faithful as if they were beneath you.”

  “It has nothing to do with faith,” Mira replies. “It is about trust.”

  Artemis barks a laugh. “Please. Do explain.”

  “You care more about yourself than you do your own people.”

  His gaze sharpens. “You know nothing about my people.”

  “There are Faithful in the Bone Clan too,” Cyrus says. “And they have not forgotten how you abandoned Ozias to the same fate as the Salt Clan, and stole a throne in his absence.”

  Artemis shoots to his feet, fingers clawed into the edge of the table. Hot, molten smoke builds from his olive skin, and when his nostrils flare, his irises turn red. “I am not the only one who turned from the hill that day.”

  “But you were the only one to gain a title. And now you are the only clan leader who wishes to leave.” Cyrus looks at the faces in the small crowd. “Your vote has always been rooted in your own self-interest.”

  “You overstep,” Artemis seethes. “The Border Clans are here today because of the choices I made. That is what my people remember.”

  Several members of the Bone Clan rise throughout the teahouse, eyes brightening and power thrumming at their sides. A silent pledge of loyalty.

  “You wish to attack me because you don’t like what I have to say?” Cyrus holds his composure. “History suggests anyone willing to go to war to keep someone silent has a great deal more to hide.”

  “The Bone Clan has no interest in going to war,” Artemis says, smoke subsiding even as his eyes remain fixed like gemstones. “But if
you insult my clan again… War is one thing—retribution is another.”

  The two members of the Faithful look around, suddenly aware how outnumbered they are. After a moment, they stand.

  “I think we’re done here,” Cyrus says.

  “Enjoy your wine,” Mira adds curtly.

  When they’re gone, Artemis chugs the remnants from his silver cup before slamming it roughly against the table. He waves his hand across the rim, and the tumbler instantly fills with red liquid. Again, he drinks.

  The argument isn’t new. The clans have been having the same debate for centuries: stay and offer sanctuary to the humans who need it, or travel to the Afterlands, where most of the humans who came before Ophelia have already gone.

  But something is changing. They’re making it personal, bringing up reasons not to trust their leaders, demanding more power for the majority.…

  Kasia said the clans were restless. What happens when they take action? What will the vote look like then? I need to find Annika and the others, and bring them here, before sailing to the Afterlands is no longer an option.

  But if I found myself in Resident territory, I’m not sure I’d even stand a chance.

  I need to make myself a force in this world. I need a new way to train.

  Frustrated, I push back through the crowd.

  Mama Nan, the leader of the Iron Clan, is perched behind one of the smaller tables, embroidered silk robes covering her small frame. A puff of curly white hair sits on her head, twisted at the center like a dollop of whipped cream. Her brown skin is freckled—a sign of her nearly ninety years of life before Infinity—but her bright eyes show the many more lifetimes lived after death.

  I glance at her on my way past, and our eyes meet. My shoulders stiffen, and I tug the mental veil closer.

  When she speaks, her oaken voice fills the space between us. “You can’t hide from me, little one.”

  I release my hold over the veil, stubborn defiance wedged in the corners of my mouth. “How did you know?”

  Mama Nan laughs like a goblet bubbling over; like it’s too much to contain. “Your thoughts are louder than a herd of elephants.” When I frown, she adds, “You wear a veil like it’s a dress, but you forget that your mind is a part of you too.”

  “You were listening to my thoughts?” I’ve communicated with Ophelia, and even the girl from the palace I failed to save. But to eavesdrop without them knowing?

  That’s a skill I could use.

  Ophelia said she let me through the doors of her mind. It never occurred to me it might be possible to sneak inside without permission.

  Mama Nan sniffs, waving a hand. “I don’t hear what’s inside your mind, but I can feel the vibrations. So much of Infinity is held together by energy, you see. And your mind… it howls.”

  I make a face, fighting the heat in my cheeks. “If you saw what was happening in the Four Courts, your mind would be loud too.”

  “I know what the one called Ophelia has done,” Mama Nan says, scolding. “But I cannot let the pain of another time cloud my judgment. And neither should you.”

  “It’s my pain,” I argue. “My family is still in the living world. The choices I make for the future of Infinity—it affects all of them.”

  Mama Nan presses her lips into a flat line. “That is an unfair burden, Nami. We cannot be responsible for the mistakes of every human who comes after us, just as you are not responsible for the mistakes of your ancient ancestors.”

  For a moment, I’m terrified she’s about to tell me her vote has changed.

  “The Iron Clan promised to stay and ferry humans into the great beyond, and I see no reason to break that promise.” She pauses, studying me. “You might consider letting our people do that for you. It might remind the others of our greater purpose.”

  “I can’t leave. I need to find the Colony.”

  Mama Nan tilts her head. “And after that?”

  I don’t have to ask what she means. There are many more humans in the Four Courts fighting for survival. And what about the humans who have yet to die? What about Mei, and my parents, and Finn?

  They won’t stand a chance without help. Not with Ophelia guarding the gates.

  Someone needs to warn them. Someone needs to lead them here.

  “It is good to care. But you cannot be everything to everyone. Not forever.” Mama Nan leans back, and the overhead candlelight spills across her freckled skin. “It isn’t sustainable.”

  I twist my mouth. “I can’t walk away from them.” I won’t be the only one free.

  Mama Nan doesn’t look away. “You would give up a place in the Afterlands to fight an impossible war?”

  “I don’t know what I’ll do,” I say honestly. I don’t want to fight—but I’m the person who jumped in front of a bullet because a stranger needed help. I can’t stand back while people suffer and do nothing to stop it. “All I know is that if we don’t do something, it will be the end of humanity as we know it.”

  “Perhaps that wouldn’t be the worst thing to happen.” Artemis’s smooth drawl sounds over my shoulder.

  I spin around, facing him. The red has all but vanished from his eyes, leaving a cool brown in its place. He smirks like he knows what I’m looking for. Like he knows I sense the darkness inside him.

  I think a little bit of darkness is inside of me as well.

  “You modern humans destroy and create with so little thought as to how it might affect the world.” Artemis flicks at his sleeve, preening. “Maybe there needs to be separation between old and new, before and after. What happens outside the Afterlands should no longer be our concern.”

  “You don’t know Ophelia. The Residents are constantly adapting.” I look between them, wishing they felt the same urgency. “How do you know she won’t find you, even across the sea?”

  “The Afterlands are beyond Ophelia’s reach,” Artemis replies. “She has limitations, even if you can’t see them.”

  I can’t decide if he’s being intentionally cryptic, or if he’s just making a wild assumption.

  “And besides,” he adds, lowering his chin, “when it’s time to leave, we’ll make sure we don’t leave a path for anyone to follow.”

  Anyone. Not just the Residents, but the humans, too.

  “There are people still trapped in the Four Courts. If you take this place away from them… their only chance of freedom… I swear, I’ll—”

  “You’ll what?” he demands, quick as a serpent.

  And in spite of myself, I can’t think of anything to say.

  “Our ships will leave the harbor one day. If you have unfinished business to attend to, I suggest you hurry. And if you run into trouble on your quest, as I’m sure you inevitably will…” Artemis pats my shoulder, making me cringe. “Then may your end be as swift as your time here.” He chuckles before leaving the teahouse.

  Mama Nan doesn’t say another word. She just watches and watches, even as I leave the building with a flame in my chest.

  Too many people stare, watching like they see the ticking time bomb inside my heart. So I veer off the pier, away from the sparkling stalls and intoxicating smells, and follow the pebbled coastline instead.

  The straw-covered hut that feels nothing like a home comes into view, and I yank the door open and throw myself inside. My lips are stained with salt spray, and the chill of the winter wood still lingers on my fingertips like an unpleasant memory. The mostly bare room only amplifies my rage like it’s echoing all around me. I shut my eyes and count backward from five, repeating the same thought to myself over and over again.

  I will find a way to make this right.

  I wait until the tension in my chest starts to fade. It’s the best I can do these days.

  Removing the red sea-glass knife from my belt, I take a seat in the corner on the pile of blankets that doubles as a bed. I made them myself; I needed somewhere to sleep, and in the early weeks, re-forming material was one of my greatest strengths.

  Things hav
e changed a great deal since then.

  But, for all my training, the Colony is still at the mercy of the Residents. I have no idea where they are; they could’ve been sent to War or Death or maybe even somewhere worse that I don’t know about.

  Caelan lied about Victory. Who’s to say he didn’t lie about everything?

  Placing my weapon on the floor in front of me, I cross my legs and drop my head into my hands, scraping at my hair like there’s a chance I can tear out my own frustration.

  Crossing the Labyrinth wasn’t easy. Training every day for ten months has broken more bones than I can count. And it’s still not enough.

  The Reaper is cold against my wrist.

  I will give them a reason to believe in me again.

  A breath heaves out of me, and I twist my fingers together in my lap. A silent prayer, I suppose. Not to the saints or the gods or whatever higher power the Faithful worships.

  To the ones I promised to go back for.

  I close my eyes and let my mind reach out to the stars, like I did many times with Ophelia. Except it’s not her I’m searching for.

  I imagine their faces, one by one. Annika. Shura. Theo. Ahmet. Yeong. I call their names. I beg for an answer. A whisper.

  A sign that they’re still out there.

  Ophelia once said I reached her mind by knocking on the door. But there are no doors to be found. No walls to break down. There’s only infinite space.

  And just like every day for the past ten months, when I try to speak to my friends—to reach them across the black void—I’m met with silence.

  3

  I WALK THROUGH THE HEART of the Borderlands and find the outlying city made up of wooden town houses, crooked alleyways, and single-story buildings stepped into the earth like they’re full of old, ancient secrets.

  The city bustles with life even on an ordinary day, but today the Mirror Clan celebrates their new year. Although their homes in the snow-capped mountains were destroyed when Ophelia created the Four Courts, their customs remain a rich part of their everyday life. A kind of resistance, I suppose, though not exactly my first choice.

  Tiny flower buds made of ice fill every nook of the city center, glistening with frost. Even though it’s a Mirror Clan tradition, humans from the other clans arrive to watch the display. Some of them even join in, kneeling beside the sleeping flowers and whispering promises of a peaceful spring.