THE WARDEN
Remy looked at Cassian. Looked at the Warden. Looked at the branch still extended toward her.
“What are you talking about?”
Cassian walked to her. Grabbed her arm. Pulled her back from the tree.
“The prisoners aren’t sleeping. They’re dead. They’ve been dead for ten thousand years. The Warden is the only thing keeping their bodies preserved.”
Remy’s heart pounded. “How do you know?”
“Because I’ve been here before. When I was a child. My mother brought me. She was one of the carriers, like your mother. She brought me to the Warden to ask for protection.”
“And?”
“And the Warden took her. Absorbed her. Added her to the collection.” He pointed to the translucent forms rising from the grass. “That’s not the prisoners. That’s everyone who ever came to the door. Everyone the Warden promised to help.”
Remy looked at the sleeping faces.
She had thought they looked peaceful.
Now she saw that they looked empty.
“The Warden feeds on memories,” Cassian said. “Just like the Devourer. They are the same species. The same hunger. The only difference is that the Warden is patient. It has been waiting for the right meal.”
Remy turned to the tree.
“Is this true?”
The Warden’s golden eyes flickered.
“I have done what was necessary to survive. As have you. As have all living things.”
“You lied to me.”
“I told you what you needed to hear to come to me. Now that you are here, the truth no longer matters.”
The branches of the tree began to move. Not slowly — quickly. Wrapping around the sleeping forms, pulling them back into the earth.
“You’re not going to let me leave, are you?”
“I cannot let you leave. You carry the memory. The weapon. The only thing that could destroy me. You must become part of me. Part of the tree. Part of the forever.”
Remy stepped back.
Cassian drew his weapon.
“The door is closing. We have maybe sixty seconds.”
Remy looked at the golden door. It was shrinking, the light dimming.
“What do we do?”
“There’s another way out. At the top of the tree.”
Remy looked up. The metal tree rose hundreds of meters into the air, its branches spreading wide.
“You want me to climb that?”
“I want you to survive. The tree is hollow. There’s a passage inside. It leads to the surface.”
“What about you?”
“I’ll hold off the Warden.”
“Cassian—”
“Go. Now.”
Remy ran.
THE DEAL
The tree was hollow.
Remy climbed inside, her hands finding handholds in the ancient metal, her feet pressing against ridges that had been worn smooth by centuries of use. The walls glowed with golden light, pulsing like a heartbeat.
The voice was screaming.
“Climb. Faster. The Warden is coming.”
She climbed.
Above her, she could see light — not golden, but white. Daylight. Or whatever passed for daylight on Mars.
Below her, she could hear the Warden’s branches scraping against the tree’s trunk, trying to reach her.
She climbed faster.
Her muscles burned. Her lungs ached. The thin air of the prison — thin, even though it wasn’t real — made her dizzy.
“Almost there,” the voice said.
She reached the top.
The opening was small — barely large enough for her shoulders. She pulled herself through.
And found herself in a room.
Not a room she recognized. Not part of the prison. Something else.
A control room. Panels of light lined the walls, covered in symbols she didn’t understand. A chair sat in the center, facing a window that looked out at — nothing. Stars. Dust. The empty dark between worlds.
“This is the heart,” the voice said. “The place where the prisoners built the weapon.”
Remy looked at the panels.
“How do I use it?”
“You don’t. Not yet. First, you make a deal.”
“A deal with who?”
“With me.”
The golden light in the room coalesced. Took shape. A figure — humanoid, but not human. Tall. Androgynous. Made of light and shadow and something that looked like regret.
“I am the last prisoner. The only one who did not sleep. I have been waiting for you in this room for ten thousand years.”
“You’re the voice.”
“I am the memory. The fragment. The ghost in your head. But I am also something more. I am the weapon.”
“You’re a person.”
“I was. Long ago. Now I am a tool. A key. A door.”
Remy stepped closer. “The Warden said the prisoners were sleeping. That they were protecting themselves from the Devourer.”
“That was true. Once. But the Warden corrupted the sleep. Turned it into death. Turned the prison into a tomb.”
“Why?”
“Because the Warden is afraid. Afraid of dying. Afraid of being forgotten. It feeds on memories to keep itself alive. But the memories are running out. The prisoners are almost gone. Soon, the Warden will starve.”
“And the Devourer?”
“The Devourer is the Warden’s offspring. Its child. Its hunger. The Warden created the Devourer to feed on the world above, while it fed on the world below.”
Remy’s stomach turned.
“They’re working together.”
“They are one. Two bodies. One hunger. And you are the only one who can stop them.”
“How?”
“By merging with me. By becoming the weapon. By walking into the heart of the Devourer and destroying it from within.”
“And what happens to me?”
“You survive. Or you don’t. I cannot promise.”
Remy looked at the panels. The symbols. The window.
“What’s my mother’s face?”
“What?”
“My mother’s face. I don’t remember it. The Devourer took it. Can you give it back?”
A pause.
“If you survive, yes. The weapon can restore what was taken. It can heal the wounds the Devourer left in your mind.”
Remy touched her temple.
“Do it.”