The Genesis Wars Read online

  Infinity is like the old world, in that way: sometimes when culture is shared and celebrated across borders and time, it becomes something new. Something blended. Something evolved.

  The Residents don’t celebrate human culture. They copy and distort everything they learn, and use all the beauty as a backdrop while they fight to erase the source.

  They stole something that wasn’t theirs to steal. They took the afterlife, and the people in it.

  And somehow I’m still here.

  It isn’t fair. The Colony did everything they could to save the human species, and I…

  I was too busy trying to find out if a monster had a soul.

  Guilt rattles through me like a horrible song, screeching behind my eyes until the headache makes me dizzy. I press a hand against a nearby pillar to steady myself, ignoring the heads that turn and the whispers that follow.

  All they see is the anger on the surface; everything else is buried much deeper.

  I move beneath the overhead balcony and shroud myself beneath a veil, double-checking the corners of my mind for good measure. The last thing I need is an audience.

  Crowds are a good place to train, particularly when it comes to veiling. And I don’t doubt Mama Nan’s experience: if she says I need more practice, then I’ll practice until I’m as undetectable as a whisper tucked beneath a wave.

  A herd of elephants, my mind huffs, recalling Mama Nan’s words.

  Tavi appears near the large decorative fountain. It’s filled with hundreds of tiny ice flowers, some floating gently in the water, others winding like ivy around the curious stone sculpture that shifts as often as the stars change. Today it’s an oak tree.

  Dressed in a shade of deep plum, Tavi whispers a prayer to the fountain. The sigil of the Mirror Clan he leads flickers against his collar, and I sense the subtle vibrations of his power even in the distance. All around the city, the ice flowers blossom. Pale blue and white petals stretch open to the sun, and the scent of fresh nectar blooms in the air. The tree explodes with flowers, one after the other like they’re multiplying. And then—music.

  The crowd bursts into a joyful dance, looping their arms around one another and swinging in circles. Humans from every clan celebrate in harmony. Even Kasia is present today, hovering around Güzide’s tray of tea and cakes while Nix swats mischievously at an approaching dancer’s hemline.

  My eyes follow the newborn blossoms along the trellis. They look so fragile. So temporary. Carefully, I pluck one of the petals and hold it in my palm, watching the ice melt within seconds.

  All this effort for something that doesn’t last.

  Dusting my hand against my shirt, I look back at the spinning crowds, watching them laugh like there isn’t a war going on at all.

  Across the square, a small group of humans is gathered, all in traditional Mirror Clan armor. Their sigil—two sparrows facing each other, with their wings curved to form an almost circle—is etched onto their leathers. Their weapons hang at their backs, half hidden in their black furs.

  My brows knot. The Mirror Clan never carries weapons. Not unless they’re on watch. And if they’re here, that would mean…

  I move across the square with long strides, slipping easily between dancers and those charmed by the display of flowers around the city, and stop in front of the sentries.

  “Who’s watching the border?” My voice is as sharp as my blade.

  Their shoulders straighten, eyes wide as they survey the seemingly empty space around them. Searching for me.

  I lift my veil.

  The tension in the air immediately subsides. One of them gives a mock salute and chuckles. “Do you ever take a day off? It’s the new year. You should be celebrating, youngling.”

  “And you’re supposed to be on patrol duty.” I count them quickly, just to be sure. Eight soldiers. Eight posts left unguarded. “There are Residents out there who are trying to destroy us,” I say, throwing a hand toward the south gates. “And you’ve left the wall unguarded.”

  The sentry shakes his head. “No one is coming. No one ever comes.” He motions toward me irritably. “We have been here for lifetimes, and all we got was you—the only human in Infinity who has no interest in going to the Afterlands.” His fellow sentries mutter words of agreement.

  I scowl. “So you abandoned your post because you were bored?”

  “We took a well-deserved break,” he snaps. “And nobody abandoned anything—Tessa and Byron stayed behind to keep an eye on the gates.”

  “Two humans? You think two humans could take on Ophelia and the Four Courts?” My eyes are wild. Unhinged. The crowd turns to stare, but I’m a spark that’s already caught fire, and now I can’t put it out. “You don’t understand what we’re up against. The Residents are constantly learning—adapting to whatever we do to stop them. They’re only getting stronger, and I don’t care how safe you think you are within these walls—letting your guard down is a mistake.” I look at the people around me. Even the music has stopped.

  The tallest sentry frowns and crosses her arms over her leather- clad chest. “You are a child in a very old world. Do not assume you know better than us because you have seen one battle in your short lifetime.”

  “The last time you saw Residents was during the First War, and you still ran,” I argue. “What they’re capable of now, and what they’re doing to humans in Death… This sanctuary might not last forever. The least you can do is make sure you’re protecting it while you still have the chance.”

  “We will always protect our own.” Her eyes steel. “And if we can’t do that here, we’ll do it in the Afterlands.”

  My face morphs into a snarl. “There are humans out there who—”

  “Not our clan,” one of the other sentries says, “not our problem.”

  The fire in my core rages. Energy builds in my fists, blazing up my arms like lightning, impossible to contain.

  I open my mouth to scream, but no sound comes out. Instead the energy explodes.

  Across the square, the fountain shatters. Thousands of ice fragments burst like fireworks, spraying in every direction. Stone clatters across the cobbled pavement, and a cloud of dust is all that’s left of the sculpted tree.

  The music stops. The world stops.

  My teeth are clenched, my chest aches, and I’m breathing, breathing, breathing without any way to calm down.

  A sturdy hand presses against my shoulder. It breaks my trance long enough to remind me where I am, and how many eyes are watching me. Tavi appears at my side, dark gaze urging me to relax.

  I bite the inside of my cheek, aware that I’ve gone too far.

  Tavi drops his hand, and it disappears within his purple robes. “So much unrest on what should be a joyful day.” Despite my outburst, he’s the picture of serenity. Even his voice is like a smoky whisper. He shifts toward the sentries, whose weapons are now firmly in their hands. “Why have you left the border?”

  The tallest soldier stiffens. “It’s the first day of spring.”

  “It is.” Tavi blinks like he’s waiting for a better answer to his question.

  The sentries shuffle awkwardly, shoulders still curved like they’re preparing for battle, until finally one of them dips his head low and sheathes his sword. “We’ll return to the wall at once.” His scowl lasts half a second before the group disappears back up the south road.

  Tavi waves toward the crowd, ushering them to restart the music. After a brief pause, several members of the Mirror Clan begin to repair the fountain. The stone oak tree re-forms branch by branch, as if my outburst never happened at all. Even the evidence of rubble scattered around the square vanishes from sight. The sound of violins fills the air, and everyone turns their attention back to the dance.

  Heat builds in my cheeks. I don’t know what’s worse—that they saw the very real cracks in my armor, or that they saw them and they still don’t care.

  I turn to leave, but Tavi holds up a hand, stopping me. “You shouldn’t be so impatient with them.”

  “That implies I have expectations,” I counter, voice teetering on the edge of a cliff. I may have reeled in the energy, but the emotions are very much still there.

  “You are still upset they won’t be your army,” Tavi notes. Even in the sunlight, his hair remains an unwavering black.

  “I’ve given up trying to convince the Border Clans to go to war.” I fix my eyes over his shoulder at the dancing crowd, arms joined as they move in circles around the newly constructed ice-flower tree, and look away bitterly. “But if this is the only safe place for humans in Infinity, then it needs to stay that way.”

  He eyes me, serious. “And you’ve chosen fearmongering to rally support for your cause?”

  I bristle at his choice of words. “Ophelia is still a threat. Maybe the people here need to be reminded.”

  “What you see as a necessary reminder is something others have spent a long time trying to forget. This war is new to you—to us it is ancient.” When I don’t respond, he adds, “You can’t be angry at the Borderlands for existing in a way that is different to you.”

  It takes effort to unclench my teeth. “They’re wrong.”

  “We all have our own ideas of right and wrong. And sometimes, when we can’t agree on what that is, we have to listen to the majority. That is what it means to put your community—your people—first.”

  “My people are still out there.”

  Tavi gives a curt nod of understanding. “And mine are here.”

  I look away, throat tightening at the memories of losing everyone I cared about in this afterlife.

  Sometimes I wonder if I should’ve seen the warnings sooner. I was so fixated on the possibility of building a bridge between human and AI that I didn’t see the truth beh
ind Gil’s hatred and Caelan’s smiles.

  Would things have turned out different if I’d chosen to spare the Residents? Would that have proven to Caelan—and Ophelia—that humans can change? Or were we always going to be the enemy, no matter what choice I made that night?

  Maybe what happened was inevitable, but I was still the one who walked into the palace, disguised as one of them. Ready to destroy all of them.

  I was the one who showed Caelan who I really was, underneath the mask, and put an end to the game he’d been playing for far longer than I knew him.

  Which means that losing the Colony was my fault.

  My voice cracks, despite the anger burning in my eyes. “It’s been ten months.” Ten months of failing to get the clans to help me. Ten months of failing to speak to my friends. Ten months of failing to convince everyone that without the Borderlands, the humans still out there—the humans still to come—will be doomed to an eternity in Death. Or worse.

  It feels like I’m running out of time.

  “Ten months is barely a moment to the rest of us, youngling,” Tavi says, like it’s supposed to make me feel better.

  “I hate being called that.”

  He smiles in return. “Hate changes too, after enough lifetimes.” And then he moves through the crowd, and I lose sight of his purple robes in the explosion of colorful dancers.

  * * *

  The seaport is quiet, and the sky has muddled to a creamy apricot. I can see my hut across the pebbled beach, and the Night Market in the distance; it won’t be long before the pier comes to life. The celebration in the middle of the city is still going strong, but some of the Faithful have already returned to the hills to light their candles and ring the evening bell.

  A fleet of double-hulled voyaging canoes sits near the harbor; several unfinished ones lie in pieces on the sand. One of them is propped up with wooden beams, and a half-sewn sail is draped over the seats.

  This is how humans will be ferried to the Afterlands.

  The sea meets the horizon, but I know there’s an incomprehensible distance between this shore and the next. And the trip to the beyond is a one-way ticket. No one who’s left has ever come back.

  My boots kick up sand around me, and I stop near the unpainted hull, dragging my fingers along the smooth surface. This isn’t protecting humans. It’s running away.

  Leaving here will mean abandoning everyone else. Abandoning people like Mei, who deserves better than this artificial hell.

  What will happen if the Border Clans sail away? Will the path in the stars disappear too? Even if human survivors manage to make their way here, what will they find? There’ll be no canoes left, and no one to show them how to reach the Afterlands. They’ll be stuck here.

  And if Ophelia extends her reach beyond the Four Courts…

  I clench my fist and press my head to the wood.

  I want to believe that the vote will never change, that the clans will stay behind for as long as it takes to lead humans to safety. But when I first came to the Borderlands, they had five canoes.

  Now they have dozens.

  Almost enough to fit every person here.

  I scream against the hull, slamming my palms against the wood, listening to the crashing waves attempt to drown me out. Then palms become fists, and I pound the canoe, again and again, screaming to the wide-open sea.

  I won’t leave anyone behind again.

  Wood cracks beneath my fists. I jump back, startled, and find a horrendous rupture on the hull, split apart by my anger. By me.

  I stare at my hands for a moment before tucking them around myself, scanning the beach and cliffs for watchful strangers. It doesn’t take long to spot the lone member of the Faithful standing at the top of the bell tower, eyes fixed on me.

  I should signal that it was an accident. That I wasn’t trying to sabotage their canoes—it was just a side effect of the fire burning in my core. But what would be the point?

  Most of them have already decided I’m an outsider. Admitting I’m struggling to control my emotions won’t make them suddenly want to help me.

  The air escapes between my lips, and I tap the spot where my O-Tech used to sit. Turning my face toward the stars, I count them one by one like I’m counting my failures.

  I don’t know why my friends won’t answer me, when it was so easy to connect with Ophelia. If I had any idea where they were, I could at least form some kind of plan.

  But I have a limited arsenal of skills and no idea where to go.

  I need to become stronger—but I need information even more.

  And I’m not going to find it in the Borderlands.

  You know what you have to do, my thoughts whisper into the night. You’ve always known. You’re just too afraid to face him. You’re afraid to face the truth.

  Caelan is the only one with answers. The only link between me and the fallen Colony. But seeing him again, after all this time… after everything he did…

  Anger sweeps through me, tethering itself to his deceit.

  The first time we met, I was hooked up to Yeong’s machine. He may have been disguised as Gil, but it was Caelan who saw my dreams—he knew I’d been on my way to meet with Finn on the night of my death. Is that why he pretended to have feelings for me? Did he know my heart would fall for it, because of everything I’d already lost?

  All the time we spent together… it was only ever about gathering intel. And I was too busy grieving my own failed love story to see it.

  Ten months isn’t enough time to heal the wounds he left. But I can’t keep pretending like a plan is going to magically appear someday. Can I really be angry at the Borderlands for not doing enough, when I still haven’t tried to reach out to the one person in Infinity who knows where my friends are being held?

  A scorching heat builds in my chest, kicking up embers of rage and regret.

  Deep down, I know it’s time. Maybe it has been for a while. Confronting him might be the only way I’ll ever get answers.

  And if he won’t tell me what I need to know, then I’ll just have to tear the truth out of him, no matter what it takes.

  I shut my eyes and reach out to the Prince of Victory.

  4

  THE WINTER WOODLAND STRETCHES ACROSS space and time. It takes surprisingly little effort to find Caelan’s mind, almost as if he’s been waiting in the black void with the door open.

  Waiting for me.

  The prince stands in the darkness, dressed in white with shadows pooling at his feet. “Nami,” he says, voice like silk. His silver eyes are fixed somewhere beyond where I stand; he can sense me, but he can’t see me.

  It’s a small victory. I’d rather he not notice the way my hands shake.

  I open my mouth to demand where the others are. To ask if he got his chance to gloat after he destroyed the Colony. But I can’t bring myself to say the words.

  The thought of what it must’ve been like for the others, searching for a hint of Gil in his face and being unable to find it…

  The sting in my eyes simmers.

  Caelan turns, fingers tangled together at his back. When he takes a step, shadows ripple across the floor. He pauses, turning his ear toward the sound of my breathing. “My mother says you used to communicate with her. Just like this.” He looks around absently. “She expected you to reach out much sooner.”

  “I have no interest in talking to Ophelia.” The snap of my voice echoes through the dark chamber.

  “But clearly you have some interest in talking to me.”

  “I’m only here for information.”

  “Is that all?” Impatience weaves around his words, and something else I can’t place.

  There are a thousand words I want to say to him. A thousand curses I want to yell.

  But instead I say nothing.

  The white furs of his cape make him appear broader than I remember. Maybe even a little older. And for someone with such a perfectly designed face, there’s still a hint of dark circles beneath his silver eyes.

  Maybe the shadows are playing tricks on me, trying to make him appear more human.