"Yes," Ursa confirms. "The old lab in Everwinter should still have the things I need to synthesize a serum. It's a lot more basic than the pulse machine we created, but it will work. The problem will be getting the cure to the rest of the world and manufacturing enough of it."

"We'll figure that out once we have it," Altair assures the woman, patting her shoulder as he comes and sits with her on the couch. "Until then, we'll rest here a few days. The final leg of our journey is at hand."

"Everwinter," I whisper, almost forgetting to breathe afterward.

"You're our Mother," Traylor states flatly. 

Ursa nods uncomfortably. "Yes," she says. "But I don't expect you to call me that, Traylor. I abandoned you, after all."

Traylor shakes his head. "You had no choice," he says. "If you didn't, we might all be dead right now at the hands of the Deacons!"

Ursa laughs. "You are right about that," she admits. For a wonder, Traylor gives her a hug. I laugh too, but I don't know if I'll ever be able to accept this woman as my Mother. 

Right now though, it's the least of my worries.

Everwinter is just over the horizon.

If we live to see our mission fulfilled, and we can finally get on with our lives, maybe then I can truly bring my Mother back from the dead.

 

 

 

 

56.

 

Krakelyn.

He's finally made it back.

How many weeks has he been on the road?

Uncountable. 

His feet feel more like lead bricks than appendages.

The gate in the wall is wide open, bent and twisted. He can see the Mainstreet Bridge through the stone arch. It's littered with debris. And people.

Beggars.

Since when did Krakelyn allow so many beggars? Were things still this bad after the Final Judgment? How long has it been? A few months anyway. The Children of Mutanity still exists, but with Blaine dead, they've been reduced to a few nomadic sects with no central authority.

Are they still in Krakelyn?

Is that why things are still so...scattered?

Or are the Deacons back in control?

People he's known his whole life, now mutants, line the bridge from end to end, begging those that still go about their lives for whatever they can spare. Which isn't much. A few peddlers drag their carts about, attempting to hawk their wares. A few food vendors are still doing business, but the selection is dismal. The Glass Gardens must be ailing.

Or there aren't enough people to work them.

Some of these people look like they've just given up completely. He finishes crossing the bridge and passes through the arch at far end, falling into shade momentarily. 

A memory floods him.

This is where he'd first kissed Juno. 

Perfect, pure, Juno. The last human.

The last human must die!

Blaine's voice echoes in his mind, as it does all too often lately.

I'm not one of them anymore! he reminds himself. I'm not one of the Children. That was all a mistake! I was scared and alone and...

Thou shalt only suffer a mutant to live, Child Jude.

"No!" he screams out loud, grabbing his head. A few passersby gawk at him but hurry on their way. He shakes his head. 

He has to get to the Manse. 

He keeps going, passing a pale, hulking man with a broom, sweeping dirt out of the street and back onto the sidewalk for some reason.

The man reminds him of Dura.

He shivers.

Dura and the other mutant boys living in that Manse out in the grasslands are descendants of Everwinter mutants. Not full Everwinter mutants, mind you, but close enough. He still doesn't know why they'd set the Children free after locking them up in that dome. Dura had made a promise to Juno, apparently. If the roles had been reversed, Jude was not sure he would have kept that promise. He probably would've left the Children to rot in those cells.

He shakes his head.

And that's why you never deserved Juno in the first place.

She was too good for you. Too good a person. Truly pure.

Dura had kept the Children locked up for a week after Blaine's death. They'd been fed, watered. The boys had not treated them ill. Jude hadn't expected such compassion. A few had eyed them with hatred, of course, but somehow Dura's promise to Juno held sway over them. They were finally released into the grasslands. He and the other former Children stuck together at first, making their way to the Engie tracks and following them back toward Venecici. But that was where most of them had parted ways.

Jude had set off on his own immediately, headed for Krakelyn.

He'd had nowhere else to go.

He'd been paranoid at first, expecting some of the more hateful boys from the Manse to try and follow and kill him.

But none did.

At the very least, he'd expected some form of vengeance for Tien's death. But that didn't happen either. Whenever he closes his eyes now, the image of that poor boy's head exploding haunts him. He'd shot Tien in cold blood. True, it wasn't the only murder he'd committed in the name of the Children but, somehow, this one was the worst.

Had Juno loved Tien?

Jude shakes his head. No, but she had liked him. There was a spark between them.

A spark that had been missing between himself and Juno.

Deep down, he'd always known she didn't love him.

Was that why he'd been unfaithful?

Jude sighs, dropping his gaze as he moves up the street. How can he blame Juno for his own shortcomings? Juno had never known that he and Rayanne Nedaris had been together a few times during the course of their relationship. Rayanne was just so...easy. There was no better way he could think to put it. And Rayanne had been eaten by the guilt ever after. That was why she was always following Juno around like a lost puppy, buying her coffee, trying to be her friend. It was almost comical.

Whatever happened to Rayanne anyway?

The street makes a sharp rise directly ahead. Jude sticks to the center, avoiding the sidewalk traffic. Mutants everywhere. He never thought he'd see the day. The Quinn Manse is situated at the top of the hill overlooking Krakelyn, amongst a nicely wooded area.

He reaches the top.

Well, not so nicely now.

The trees lining the boulevard are all burnt; a result of the Children's raid here. When they'd discovered that Juno had escaped, they'd set fire to the Manse, the destruction spreading to some of the surrounding forest. Fortunately for the Quinns, a brief but powerful storm had swept in off the coast a few hours later, dousing most of the flames. Only half the Manse had been decimated.

The road takes a curve and, through the trees, Jude can see it now.

The wrought iron gate is smashed wide, the stone wall crumbled in a dozen places. Charred struts and other detritus stick out from the building where the fire damage was worst. But at least half of the building is still livable. It looks like it's been ransacked though.

Jude heads up the paved cobblestone drive.

The doublewide oak front door hangs free, flapping lightly in the breeze. There can't possibly be anyone living here anymore. He mounts the steps and heads inside. All is silent, dark and still. His footfalls echo hollowly throughout the halls. 

What is his plan here, exactly? 

He's not sure. 

He shakes his head. No, that's not true. He's come here to wait for Juno. She has to return, eventually. He can't even begin to imagine how he can make up for what he's done to her.

But he's going to try.

He still loves her. He–

Thwump!

The muffled sound echoes from the upper floor.

"Hello?" he calls out, his voice sounding dead to his own ears. The floor above creaks as something moves. "Is someone here?" he sounds again. The creaking stops.

Fearless, he heads for the stairs, half charred by the fire. He has to tread carefully. He makes it to the top without incident, turning left in the direction of the noise.

A dark shape steps out into the hallway.

"Don't. Bloody. Move." The voice is firm, authoritative.

Jude throws his hands in the air. The man has a shooting iron pointed directly at his chest. The figure steps down the hall, coming out of the darkness and into the light streaming through a nearby window.

Jude gasps.

The man drops his guard.

"For the sake of the gods!" the man says, his demeanor doing a one-eighty. "Jude?"

"Hello, Jonathan," Jude greets Juno's Father with a smile, dropping his hands. "I'm just as surprised to see you here. I thought you were dead."

Jonathan laughs. "So did I. I should have been, especially after that attack on the Manse by the Children of Mutanity."

"I know," Jude admits. "That was some ugly business. They set me free from the cellar when the raid was over."

Jonathan seems to sigh in relief. "Well, thank the gods for that," he says. "I wasn't sure what happened to you. All I knew was that you were gone." Jonathan steps forward, taking Jude by surprise. He pulls the young man into a full embrace. "What happened to you?" the former High Deacon asks.

Jude hesitates. He doesn't know what to say. How can he tell this man–the Father of the girl that he still loves–that he'd tried to kill her? He'd been brainwashed, sure, but still... 

To his own surprise, with his head buried in Jonathan's shoulder, Jude finds total comfort.

He breaks down and starts to cry. 

And he tells Jonathan everything. 

When it's over, he expects Jonathan to ream him out; maybe even kill him.

But that doesn't happen.

"Juno's still alive?" Jonathan asks, as is to confirm he'd heard the story correctly.

Jude nods. "And Traylor." He hesitates. "Jonathan, they're both still human."

"I know," Jonathan admits. "I was the one that sent them away from here." He pauses. "Were they alone, or were they traveling with others?"

Jude frowns. "They were with others," he replies. "A man–I think he was an Assassin if you can believe that–and a very weird woman, horribly mutated." Jonathan seems relieved at that.

"Where were they going anyway? When I was with the Children, we followed them as far as the outer Fringes. Blaine was killed." He starts to sob again. "I'm so sorry for what I did, Jonathan."

Jonathan waves him down. "It doesn't matter now, son. You were just doing what you had to in order to survive. The important thing is that Juno and Traylor are alive...and headed for Everwinter."

"Everwinter?" Jude repeats, skeptical. "But... Why would you send them there?"

Jonathan frowns, then cocks his head down the hallway. "Come on," he says, "I need to show you something."

Jude doesn't protest. He follows Jonathan, coming to the study at the end of the hall. On the desk tucked into the far corner is an object Jude recognizes instantly.

"Gods!" he exclaims. "Is that the Box?"

"Yes," Jonathan confirms. "The same one you and Juno found on the beach. Thomas Whiskeyjack saw you guys take it. He saw what it did to your face, Jude."

Jude nods; he’d surmised that much already. “That’s why you had him Judged, isn’t it? To protect us.”

Jonathan bobs his head. "Yes. I knew it was hidden here somewhere at the Manse, but I thought it best I didn’t know where just in case the wrong people came looking for it. After the fire though,” Jonathan continues, “I found it on the main floor, fallen from somewhere above." He shakes his head. "If I'd known it could still work the way it was intended, I'd never have sent my children off to Everwinter!"

Jude shakes his own head, confused. "What?"

"The Box was never meant to cause mutations, Jude. It was supposed to cure them! Somebody tampered with it. Altered its purpose. I thought it was broken, but I managed to alter it back. It can be used to reverse the Final Judgment." Jude gapes, letting that revelation sink in. He stares at the Box in disbelief. Next to the Box, on the desk, sits a large pack, stuffed to the brim.

"Going somewhere?" he asks, approaching the desk.

"I was going to go after my children," Jonathan replies. "I need them, Jude. Their pure, unmutated genes are the only thing that can make the Box work properly and reverse its effects." He hesitates, considering something.

"I was going to try and sneak it out of the city during sleeping hours, but the Deacons are watching me. Jude, they know that Juno is still out there somewhere, and they know that I know where she is. They want her. They think they can reverse the Final Judgment if they make her a sacrifice to the gods. The blood of the last human. If I go to her, they'll follow me. But time is growing short, and I was about to take that chance anyway." He pauses, meeting Jude's eyes full on.

"That is," he says, "until you showed up."

Jude takes a step back, shaking his head. "No, I can't. I–"

"Do you want to right the wrongs you've committed?" Jonathan asks, no longer sympathetic but the ruthless High Deacon once again.

Jude slumps, realizing he has no choice.

Gods, just a few weeks ago, I was most of the way to Everwinter already...

He meets Jonathan's gaze again. "I'll do it," he finally says. "I'll take the Box to Everwinter and find Juno."

Jonathan beams. "Thank you, Jude," he says. "You may have just agreed to save the world. But you'll have to leave soon. Within the hour. I'll lead the Deacons on a false trail, keep them off of your tail. I'll meet you in Everwinter in a month. Don't worry, I'll stay as far as Juno as I can in the meantime."

Jonathan grasps the Box, picking it up and placing it in Jude's reluctant hands. He grimaces as it touches his skin. Nothing happens this time, however. "Whatever happens, you can't let anyone else get a hold of this. The future of our race depends on it."

"Great," Jude huffs, accepting his fate. He's brought this on himself though. He knows there's a lot Jonathan's not telling him, but he doesn't push it.

He has no right to.

"One last thing," Jonathan says. "Take this."

Jude holds out his hand, taking what looks to be a shooting iron of some sort, but with a barrel longer than any he's seen before.

"You'll probably need it more than I will."

Jude nods, smiling. "See you in Everwinter," he says.

 

 

 

 

PART IV: EVERWINTER

 

 

57.

 

TRAVELER, BEYOND LIES EVERWINTER

I read the sign again, studying it, amazed that it still stands.

When we’d first arrived in Everwinter, I’d never really paid much attention to it. Now I see that it's actually made of ancient sandal wood, cracked and splitting, looking ready to crumble to dust at any moment. The snow is piled high around it, but the sign itself is cleared out. Someone must come here every day and shovel it.

I still can't believe how much snow there is here.

I turn around, facing Altair. "Tell me how big this place is again."

Altair shrugs. "It hasn't gotten any smaller since the first time I told you," he retorts. I put my hands on my hips and scowl at him. He rolls his eyes. "The City of Everwinter is hundreds of kilometers long. This sign marks the border."

I scowl harder. "Convenient that you failed to mention how big it was before we got here," I say. "And how far do we still have to go to Ursa's lab?"

"A few days, maybe another week," Altair admits.

I curse at that.

We've been on the road for nearly three weeks since leaving Ativan's compound. We lost a day burying Glamis when we passed the Grimms former roadblock. If any Grimms were left in the area, we didn't encounter them. We'd carried Glamis into the wastes and exhausted ourselves digging a hole into the half frozen soil. That had been a solemn, reflective day. We'd all said our goodbyes to Glamis privately. 

In the weeks that followed, the going got steadily tougher. The snow increased. The temperature decreased. We'd scrounged up some warmer clothing from the Grimms camp though, which made the journey somewhat more bearable. Three weeks, and we finally came to the very sign I am now standing before, staring at it again. Exhausted from the journey, Altair suggested we take up residence at a nearby inn for a few days, recoup our strength. 

None of us argued. 

Ursa and Traylor are back at the inn now–a place called Winter's Solace–while Altair and myself are out on this walk. We'd been at the inn for a day already, but I find it stuffy and crowded. I'd needed to clear my head. Altair hadn't argued. We'd headed out together, along the same route we came in on, taking in the sights. Everwinter mutants stalk the streets around us. Amazingly, they pay us no mind. We're bundled head to toe, obscuring what we truly look like, but it's hardly a disguise. Everwinter mutants wear almost no clothing whatsoever. Instead, their bodies are coated in a sleek white fur that somehow keeps their bodies perfectly warm. Nobody would ever mistake us for one of them. But that doesn't seem to matter.

We're not the only non-Everwinter residents out here.

Other humanoids stalk the streets, bundled just as we are–and at home here as much as the Everwinter mutants themselves. One human mutant passes us right now in fact, nodding then continuing on his way, only his blue eyes and a few large tumors exposed beneath his wrappings.

"I never knew," I say. "I still can't believe it."

"Few from Eversummer do," Altair replies as we turn around and head back into the city. "There's such a stigma and fear about Everwinter. Nobody would ever believe that normal humans have lived here nearly as long as the Everwinter mutants have. And in relative harmony."

"My mind is effectively blown," I say. It's impossible to keep my shock at bay. Above us, a million different lights twinkle, but they're not stars.

They're homes.

The city of Everwinter, massive though it is, is simply a series of gigantic snow mounds, dug out over the ruins of an ancient Forerunner city spanning hundreds of kilometers on this side of the world.

"It's true though," Altair continues. "After the final mutant war, hundreds of years ago, Everwinter had a choice to make. They’d lost the war, their numbers decimated. They had to adapt or die. A truce was sought and, reluctantly, a few cities in Eversummer agreed to it. By that time, those cities were starting to get overcrowded anyway."

"Krakelyn sure as hells wasn't one of those cities," I interject.

"No," Altair shakes his head. "You are right about that. The religion of the True Body Plan was a result of the fear and hatred sown by the mutant wars, and had already taken root in most of Eversummer. Krakelyn was the center of that movement. A few of the southern cities remained more liberal though, agreeing to the truce. The terms were harsh though."

"Let me guess," I say, gesturing to the mounded snow around us. "Humans were allowed to move freely to Everwinter if they wished, but Everwinter mutants had to stay here, in exile."

Altair grins. "You've really been studying that book, haven't you?"

I shrug. "What else is there to do when you're on the road? Besides, the Forerunner Archives is probably the most important book in existence now. Couldn't hurt to know it cover to cover, right?" Altair laughs. "What?" I ask.

"Oh, nothing," he replies. "You're just halfway through Assassin training, that's all."

"Huh?"

Altair taps his skull. "We all have it memorized. It's a requirement of our training."

I'm genuinely surprised. "Really? Why? What does ancient history have to do with becoming a ruthless killer?"

Altair frowns. "Well, I don't exactly approve of the label of 'ruthless killer'," he smirks, "but that book is more important than you know, Juno. It reminds us of who we are, where we came from, and how we can avoid the mistakes of our predecessors."

"I guess," I say, unconvinced. "You know, you still haven't told me where exactly you Assassins come from. Navani told me there's a Guild, but I couldn't get it out of her where it is."

"It's very, very far from here," Altair says, reverting to his usual cold demeanor. 

"That's what Navani said," I sigh. I gesture all around us. "How much further can you get though? If we keep going, eventually we're going to come back ‘round the world to Eversummer, right?"

"Right," Altair agrees. It's all he'll tell me though.

I huff and we continue on in silence for a time. 

We pass little shops and storefronts, huge holes dug through the snow providing access. A few have signs out front, stuck straight into the piled banks to indicate what the business is. Warm yellow light spills out from most of the holes, a comfort in the bleak eternal night of this place. I can't fathom why anyone would want to live here.

Not at all.

Altair tells me there are Forerunner structures hidden under a lot of the snow mounds; even some of those massive towers that scrape the sky like the ones in the southern cities! I try to picture it as we walk, but find my imagination lacking. What I find even more astounding is that it wasn't always like this! The world used to spin, and it wasn't always snowy in Everwinter! What if the planet suddenly just decided to start spinning again? What Forerunner wonders would be revealed once the snow melted?

The thought makes me giddy. 

Altair suddenly pulls me in close to him, a little rough. I'm about to protest, when I look down and see he's got his throwing stars in his hands. My heart hammers and I start to turn my head.

"Don't!" Altair whispers harshly. "We're being followed. Just play it cool. Pretend like nothing's amiss."

"Okay," I say, trying to relax. I probably look like I'm ready to flee screaming at any moment.

The street is fairly busy, mutants coming and going everywhere; I have to wonder if Altair is just being paranoid. There are a lot of people following us, but I’m sure most of them just happen to be going the same direction we are. Altair grips my arm and suddenly pulls us down an alley between snow mounds. It's darker than the street down here, the only light provided by a few dug out windows.

"Um, are you sure this is a good idea?" I ask. "We're kind of boxing ourselves in–"

"Altair!" a voice cuts me off, husky but somehow familiar.

Altair curses, stopping our forward advance and turning around. Six dark shapes stand at the mouth of the alley.

Large, but not Everwinter mutant large.

They're men.

"How do you know that name?" Altair calls back, hands tensing around his throwing stars. 

The men step forward, coming into the only available light from the windows. They're bundled head to toe just like we are. One of the men–the leader, I guess–nods to the others and they all reach up and lower their hoods, revealing their faces. They're mutated, just like everyone else in the world, faces covered in tumors and rashes.

There's something familiar about them though.

I step forward, Altair grabbing my arm. 

"You're Deacons!" I accuse, pointing at the men. It'd taken me a moment to figure it out. I hadn't seen these people since before the Final Judgment–and how they'd been changed by it.

"Good to see you again, Juno," the leader says. I can't remember his name. My Father had so many Deacons, always coming and going, I never knew them all.

Hope grips my heart. "Did my Father send you?" I ask, trying to keep my tone even. "Is he alive?"

The man grins. "We were hoping you could tell us that," he replies. "We've been trailing him since Krakelyn."

"My Father is here?" I ask, skeptical. "In Everwinter?"

The man shrugs. "We don't know. Not that it matters now. We've found what we've been seeking." The man nods to his fellows and they all reach beneath their cloaks, pulling out shooting irons and blunt instruments.

"Make this easy on yourself, Juno," the man says. "Come with us quietly, and we won't hurt your friend here." He gestures to Altair.

I laugh. "If I were you, I'd be worried about him hurting you."

The man scoffs. "Don't be foolish! Of course, we know who your friend is. Altair, the infamous Assassin! Did you know, Juno, that your so-called friend is also the one responsible for causing the mutations?"

I shake my head. "No he's not! I know what caused the mutations."

"So do we," the man reveals. "A device that came from the very city we find ourselves standing in. A Box." The man hesitates. "Haven't you wondered how that Box came to be in Eversummer, Juno?"

I shrug. "Of course. But it's a mystery we haven't solved yet."

"Oh, it's no mystery," the man retorts. "Your 'friend' here is the one who delivered it."

I gape, my gaze falling on Altair. "Is that true?" My tone is accusatory.

Altair doesn't look at me. His mouth is a sneer, his throwing stars still tight in his grip. "It's only half the truth, Juno," Altair tells me. "I was trying to prevent the Box from falling into the wrong hands. I failed."

I nod at that, turning back to the men. "How do you know all this?"

The lead man grins. "Your Father," he replies. "We beat the information out of him shortly after you escaped from Krakelyn. Altair has been working for your Father for a long time, Juno."

"I know," I say with annoyance, because I don't actually know the specifics of that relationship yet. 

"We wanted to know where your Father sent you, but he wouldn't relent on that point. Eventually, he fled Krakelyn, and we think he took the Box with him. We don't care about the Box so much. It's you we want, Juno."

Altair takes a threatening step forward. "I'm warning you," he says.

"Easy, Altair, easy," the man soothes. "All we want is to right a wrong that’s been done to the world. Solve an injustice, if you will. Now, Altair, you're going to lower those stars of yours, and we're going to take Juno, or you're both going to die right here on the spot." The men take a few threatening steps forward, weapons drawn and pointed. 

"What do you want with her?" Altair asks. My heart hammers anxiously. Altair is seriously outmatched here. 

"Oh, we don't want her," the lead Deacon replies. "The gods do. They demand her blood. Altair, why do you think this is all happening? The mutations. The Final Judgment. It is all the wrath of the gods, sent to remind us that the True Body Plan is the only way to live our lives. Too many in this world have forgotten that. The Final Judgment was our punishment. The good news, though, is that the damage can be reversed! We can undo what the gods have done to us! All they require is a sacrifice, Altair. The blood of the last human!"

"Oh, for gods sake!" I huff. “You guys are no better than the Children of Mutanity! They wanted to kill me too!” I feel like I'm in that grassy field again, the Children screaming for my blood. 

Jude screaming for my blood.

              “You’re wrong, Juno,” the man counters. “We never turned our backs on the True Body Plan. We still believe mutations to be an abomination. We just want to prove that to the gods by offering up a sacrifice.” 

"Not gonna happen," Altair warns, lifting his arms in a final threatening gesture.

"Very well," the man says. "You've made your choice." He waves a hand in the air. "Take them!" he yells. 

But the men before us don't move.

Instead, we're attacked from above.

Deep shadows descend, momentarily blocking out the light from the windows. Something heavy and blunt strikes me between the shoulder blades with incredible force, the same happening to Altair. I scream in pain. Two men have elbow dropped us from the rooftops, taking us both by complete surprise. An immense weight presses down on my back, forcing the air from my lungs, pressing my face into the snow.

I'm pinned.

Altair, however, is not so lucky.

The entire group of Deacons swarms him, kicking him while he's down, trying to reduce him to a bloody pulp. The attack is so vicious, he'll be dead within a minute...

TWEEEP!

A high pitched noise, not unlike a bird call, rushes to my ears.

The man on top of me suddenly falls over, face to the ground. Stunned, I see a small, arrow-like dart protruding from the back of his neck.

He's not dead, just unconscious. 

TWEEEP! TWEEEP! TWEEEP!

More darts fly down the alley, striking our attackers, rendering them unconscious in seconds. Realizing the change in their predicament, the remaining four men halt their assault and turn toward this new threat.

Too late.

Four more darts fly, striking each man with deadly precision.

But only three of them go down.

The last dart strikes home, but it's snagged in the bulky clothing of the final man. He hits the ground in a dive, taking a shot at his attacker with his shooting iron. The attacker dives as well, the bullet flying wild and slamming against a snow mound with a white explosion. I hear our savior curse as now he's lost his advantage. The last Deacon struggles to his knees, pointing his shooter directly and–

SNAP!

The Deacon's head twists unnaturally sideways, a broken, bloody mess, as Altair grasps it and reefs on it. The Deacon falls limp. Altair comes to me immediately, helping me to my feet.

"You okay?" he asks, ignoring his own discomfort; he's beaten far worse than I am. 

I cringe at the pain in my back from the attack, my spine popping. "Ow!" I cry then nod. "Yeah, I'll be fine."

We face our savior.

He's clearly another man, swaddled head to toe, holding a small but long barreled weapon that can only be a dart shooter. I've never seen anything like it.

"Who are you?" I ask, stepping forward cautiously with Altair at my side. "Why did you help us?"

The man comes into the yellow light of one of the windows. All we can see of him is his eyes. But it's all I need.

"No," I say, shaking my head in disbelief.

"Hello, Juno," the man says, pulling his hood and scarf down to reveal a face I loathe more than any other in this world.

"Jude," I say through clenched, grinding teeth.

"Bloody ashes," Altair says, eyes wide. He suddenly produces a throwing star.

"Hey," Jude says, hands raised. "I come in peace. Please." He lowers his own weapon, slipping it into a holster at his belt.

"What are you doing here, Jude?" I literally growl. "I told you I never wanted to see you again!"

"I know!" Jude admits, keeping his distance. "I... I don't expect you to forgive me for what I've done, Juno, but... I can't thank you enough for sparing my life. I can't say I would have done the same had the situation been reversed. I'm sorry."

"I don't care!" I scream now. "I don't give one bloody hells what you have to say! I will NEVER, EVER forgive you! Get out of here! Now!"

I'm almost frothing at the mouth. Altair has to hold me back. "Take it easy," he whispers at me. "It's alright."

"No, it's not!" I shake my head. "I HATE him!"

"I know, I know," Jude tries to soothe. "But there's a reason I'm here, Juno. I've been asked to deliver you a message."

"I don't care!" I scream again, irrationally. I've never felt so much hatred and rage before.

"What's the message?" Altair asks, to my extreme irritation. I scowl at him but he doesn't meet my gaze. "He saved our lives, Juno," he says. "Let's just hear him out." I try to pull away, but Altair keeps a firm grip on my arm. I want to cry.

Jude steps forward. "You're Father wants you to meet him at the Evernight Skytower in the Stockton District. Don't go to Ursa's lab. There's nothing there anymore."

My jaw drops and I shake my head. "How... My Father? So he is alive?"

"Yes," Jude reveals. "And he's here, in Everwinter. You need to go to him, Juno. He knows of a way to cure the mutations that doesn't involve synthesizing your blood. You don't need to go to Ursa's lab."

I shake my head. "I don't believe you. Why would my Father send you? Why didn't he just come after me himself?"

Jude gestures to the limp, unconscious forms all around us. "Because of them," he replies. "The Deacons have been following him since Krakelyn, hoping he would lead them to you. There was nothing he could do about them, and so couldn't risk meeting you directly."

"But they found me anyway!" I snarl. "You probably led them to me!"

"No, Juno!" Jude cries. "I would never! I mean... I realize that you have no reason to believe me. But I'm not a Child of Mutanity anymore. I'm... I'm trying to atone for what I've done."

"You can't," I state bluntly. "Not ever. You betrayed me, Jude! In the worst way possible!" I shake my head. "It seems like everyone I love winds up betrayed or a betrayer."

Ursa flashes through my mind in that moment.

My Mother.

She'd kept her missing toenail a secret her whole life until somebody discovered it and ratted her out.

I still don't know who it was.

"Leave, Jude," I say. "You've delivered your message. I don't believe it, but you've delivered it. Get out of here."

"Juno, please," Jude pleads. "You have to go to the Skytower. You have to–"

"LEAVE!" I scream, breaking Altair's grip and stomping forward. "NOW!"

Jude slumps, his head staring at the ground. "Okay. Just... One last thing, Juno," he says. "I still love you."

"GO!" I snarl one last time. I leap at him, arms raised in rage. I've never lost it like this before.

But it doesn't matter.

Before I can get within five steps of Jude, the world suddenly slips out from beneath me.

I've hit a patch of ice.

My legs flail upward, my body nearly horizontal in the air. Then I slam down, striking my head.

Everything goes black.

 

 

 

 

58.

 

"Very good, Jude!" Mrs. Cromarty exclaims, sitting at the center of the circle of eager students. "That's right! According to the True Body Plan, a human being shall have ten fingers and ten toes! Very good."

Mrs. Cromarty's gaze continues around the circle, coming to the next student. "And you, Juno," the old woman smiles warmly. "How many fingernails should a human being have?"

Juno smiles back, raising her own hand before her face. "Five!" she blurts enthusiastically. "Five on each hand! Five, like how old I am!"

"Very good!" Mrs. Cromarty praises. "And what about toenails?" she asks. "How many of those should a human have?"

Juno hesitates a moment, considering. "Well," she finally says, "it's usually five, like fingernails, but sometimes it's four."

Mrs. Cromarty frowns, her eyes betraying her shock. "What do you mean, Juno?" she asks. "Haven't you been studying your True Body Plan?"

"Yes, Mrs. Cromarty," Juno says sheepishly, "but it confuses me." 

"Oh?" Cromarty asks, bewildered. "Why is that?"

"'Cause," Juno says, "my Mom only has four toenails on one of her feet."

Cromarty's face goes suddenly pale and the children in the class start murmuring to each other.

"Cool!" Jude exclaims, many of the children agreeing with him.

"No!" Mrs. Cromarty suddenly snarls, becoming very cross. "It is not cool!" She stumbles to her feet, visibly shaken. "Children, return to your seats! Work on your letters! I have to leave you for a moment. I'll be right back."

Confused, the children do as commanded.

"What was that about?" Juno asks, sitting at her desk next to Jude.

"Hells if I know," Jude replies with a wicked grin.

"Bad word!" Juno chastises him, but they both laugh and, like their peers, set to work on their letters, the whole incident forgotten.

They're still too young to appreciate the import of the text carved into a wooden plaque above the classroom door.

"Thou Shalt Not Suffer a Mutant to Live"

 

 

"Juno? Hey, Juno! Wake up!" 

I feel a pinch at the back of my neck.

I open my eyes.

The first thing I notice is that I'm cold.

Damn cold.

I'm on my back, staring skyward. Altair's face hangs over mine, concern written all over his face. "Are you alright?" he asks, helping me sit up.

I wince, the pain in my back intensifying. "Yeah," I cringe. "I just... How long was I out?"

"Just a few minutes," he says. "But if you can manage it, I think we should get moving. I don't want to have to kill the rest of these men if I don't have to." A spike of adrenaline surges through me, thinking we're being attacked again. Then I look around and see the limp forms of the Deacons, still on the ground around us. A couple of them are groaning though, coming around.

"Yeah, okay," I say, struggling to my feet with Altair's help. "What happened to Jude?" The pure malice is still present in my voice.

"Gone," Altair replies. "He took off after you fell."

"Good," I say. "I–"

I cut off. My brain feels flooded. 

I had a dream when I'd been unconscious.

Not a dream. A memory.

"What is it?" Altair asks. We're heading slowly toward the end of the alley now.

I shake my head. My gods! It was me!

"It was me," Altair I say. "It was me who betrayed my Mother's mutation all those years ago!"

"What do you mean?" he asks, sounding genuinely bewildered. We head down the street–mostly deserted–back toward our inn. The Winter's Solace. 

"A memory came to me while I was blacked out," I explain. "I guess all this talk about betrayal stirred it up." I hesitate, emotional. "I was just a kid, five years old. I was in school and the teacher was asking us about the True Body Plan. Altair, I let it slip that Ursa only has four toenails. I was so young and I didn't understand our religion yet. I totally forgot about it..." My chest hitches and a tear escapes my eye.

"My gods," Altair says, almost whispering. "I'm... I'm so sorry, Juno."

"Me too," I admit. I dwell on it some more. "My Mother wasn't Judged until I was nine though. It took almost four years for the truth to come out fully." I stare at him. “You know all this already though, don’t you?”

Altair nods reluctantly. "Yes. Your Father told me. When the truth became known, the few who knew were afraid to reveal it, with your Father being the High Deacon, the most powerful man in Krakelyn. They had to prove it absolutely before going public. They had to figure out what your Father knew first."

I nod my agreement. "Yeah, that makes sense." We turn left down a side street. "I still... I just can't believe it! I feel so bad! I wonder if Ursa knows?"

"If she does, I'm sure she doesn't blame you," Altair soothes.

"I hope so," I reply.

We keep moving

I'm lost now, but Altair expertly navigates the snowy streets, bringing us quickly back to the Winter's Solace. 

"You don't think the Deacons knew where we were staying, do you?" I ask as we approach the entrance–a wide tunnel carved into the snowpack. 

"No," Altair replies. "They didn't even know we were in Everwinter when they found us. That was just a fluke, I think."

"I hate flukes," I say.

We step out of the cold eternal night and into the yellow warmth of the inn's common room. It's fairly late now, and most of the inn's patrons have turned in for the night. A few still mill about the tables though, drowning in their ales. The innkeeper, a large fat man whom I never caught the name of, nods at us as we head past the bar and up the stairs to the second floor. We reach the top and quietly stalk to our room at the far end.

Altair stops when we get to the door.

It sits open a crack.

We'd told Ursa to keep it closed and locked.

Altair produces his throwing stars and pushes the door wide, keeping hidden behind the jamb.

There's a body on the floor before the hearth, face down. A familiar looking dart sticks from the right shoulder blade.

"Ursa!" I cry.

We burst into the room–a single enclosed space with two beds. There's nowhere for an intruder to hide.

Ursa is alone.

Where's Traylor?

"Ursa!" I yell, on my knees next to my unconscious Mother. I pull the dart from her back. "Ursa!"No response.

"Here," Altair says, crouching next to me. He runs his hands along Ursa's neck, feeling the muscles under the skin. He finds what he's looking for and squeezes, pinching hard.

Ursa gasps, her eyes popping wide.

She rolls over, staring at us in disbelief. "Where is he!" she practically screams. "Where is he?"

"Who?" I ask stupidly, just trying to keep the woman from sensory overload.

"Traylor!" she blurts. "He... He took him!"

"Jude?" I ask, knowing the answer already.

Ursa scowls, baring her teeth and nodding her head. "I'm gonna bloody kill him!"

 

 

 

 

59.

 

"Are you sure about this?" I ask, craning my neck straight up.

The deck of the hulking ship above us is invisible, covered by low hanging clouds and roiling, falling snow. I can't actually tell how big the thing is. The metal is all rusted and black; it's a wonder it floats at all. I can just make out a name on the bow, three letters: XON. A biting wind blows in off the open sea, and I just can't believe there's actually water in Everwinter that isn't frozen. Of course, I'm familiar with saltwater–Krakelyn is on the Northern Ocean, after all–but I never once considered that it could be immune to freezing temperatures like this.

"I could probably walk faster than this thing can sail," I finish.

Altair rolls his eyes at me. "You'll find out soon enough," he replies. "If Traylor really has been taken to the Evernight Skytower, this is our fastest, most direct route. It's at least a hundred clicks from here to the Stockton District." He pauses, staring at the ship. "I don't know how Jude is travelling, but if he doesn't have a vehicle of some sort, there's a chance we could beat him there."

"With the way things have been going lately?” I scoff. “Not likely. He's probably already there and Traylor is probably driving him nuts." I laugh. "Hopefully he brought enough tranquilizer to keep the kid sedated." Altair laughs too, but it's uncomfortable. I'm trying to make light of the situation, but it's not working very well. 

I'm worried sick about Traylor. 

There's just no way my Father sent Jude here.

No way.

My Father is dead.

He probably did flee Krakelyn as the Deacons claimed, but there's no way he made it all the way to Everwinter. Not alone. Hells, we barely made it here with four of us!

So what's Jude's angle then?

He's still working for the Children of Mutanity, I assume with a horrified shiver.

"Got them!" a familiar voice calls out behind us.

We whirl about to see Ursa trudging through the snow, a huge smile plastered across her still healing face. It's the first time I've seen her happy since Traylor was taken. I expected her to be wracked with guilt over it but, impressively, her anger toward Jude has kept her focused. She wants her son back and is willing to do anything for it.

"Awesome!" I exclaim, taking the thick paper tickets she's holding out to me; our proof of passage to board the Xon.

With little in the way of money or goods to trade, Altair had had to give up one of his throwing stars in exchange for a chunk of coin at a local bazaar. He'd been reluctant, but there was no other choice. How many of those things does he have anyway?

He never seems to run out.

"We set sail in an hour," Ursa announces. "So unless there's something else we need to do," she looks at Altair, "we might as well get on board."

Altair shakes his head, looking about warily. He's been paranoid since we were attacked by the Deacons.

Not that I blame him.

"Nope. Let's go," he gestures.

We shamble through the slowly drifting snow toward the center of the massive ship. I can just barely make out the loading platform from where we are. A low rumble sounds out of the dark and a dim light suddenly appears from between a pair of snow mounded buildings. It's an oil fired vehicle, skittering toward us on a pair of skis and a set of tracks that propel it effortlessly through the snow. My jaw is on the ground at the sight of such a marvelous contraption. Altair and Ursa, however, seem to take it as nothing special. I guess they've seen snow machines during their previous trips to Everwinter.

The machine zooms by, the driver–a hulking Everwinter mutant–revving the engine as he passes us. I cough in the wake of his exhaust. "Awesome," I whisper hoarsely.

We reach the boarding platform and there's a bit of a line so we queue up. A pair of Everwinter mutants stands on either side of the platform, checking and taking tickets. This ship must sail often if so many people use it. My doubts about this method of transport are slowly dwindling.

We finally reach the head of the queue and I hand our tickets to the mutants. We're all bundled, head to toe as usual, but the mutants pay it no heed. They rip our tickets, handing me the stubs, and let us aboard. The platform is a rickety wooden thing, and there's a lot of people on it. My anxiety is gonna be on the rise until we get safely to the top.

On deck, the first thing we notice is how windy it is. The ship had been acting as a windbreaker on the ground, but now that we're above it, we're getting the full force of the wind off the sea. The snow whips and stings my eyes where they're exposed. The deck itself is a massive metal area, dotted here and there by vents and other protuberances that I can only guess at. A huge square structure that looks like a full scale building sits at the stern. Other passengers mill about. My attention is quickly drawn to a loud THWAP! sound from above us. It reminds me of laundry drying on a line on a blustery day back home.

I look upward.

A gargantuan mast, wider than a house, shoots straight up into the night, the top lost to darkness and snow. Attached to the mast is an equally massive sheet, tossing lightly in the wind. There are multiple sheets attached to the mast. I turn and look toward the bow of the ship and see two more masts of comparable size, each with their own sails.

Sails!

"This is a sailboat?" I ask, baffled.

Altair grins at me. "I told you this would be the fastest way to get to Stockton."

I shake my head, studying the masts. "These have been added to the ship though," I say. "This wasn't always a sailer, was it?"

"No," Altair confirms. "At best guest, this was a Forerunner ship powered by oil fired engines. They used it to transport things. Even oil itself."

My eyes go wide. "No way! There's no engine in the world that could move something like this!"

Ursa comes up beside me. "Hard to believe, I know," she says, "but it's true. Just another wonder of the Forerunners." 

I gape. All of Krakelyn could probably fit onto this ship!

"We should get below," Altair suggests, "before we freeze our limbs off."

I couldn't agree more–I'm frozen–but I can't hold back my enthusiasm. "Can we check out the bow first?" I ask. 

Altair shakes his head in annoyance but Ursa just laughs. "Come on. We'll make it quick."

As we head toward the bow, I'm overcome with a wave of anxiety and sadness.

"Traylor would have loved this," I say.

"I know," Ursa agrees. "Don't worry, Juno, we'll get him back."

"I just don't understand why Jude took him," I groan, contemplating. "The only thing that makes sense to me is that he's still working for the Children of Mutanity. But that doesn't fit either. The Children wanted me dead. They were obsessed with it. If they found out about Traylor, Jude would have simply killed me and not bothered with kidnapping Traylor. It just doesn't make sense."

"That's why I don't think Traylor's in any danger," Ursa says. "I believe Jude was telling the truth when he said he isn't a Child anymore. This is something else going on here, Juno. We just don't know what yet."

"Yeah," I agree with a guilty nod.

I haven't told Ursa Jude's claim about my Father yet. I don't see the point. I still don't believe Jude was sent by him, and neither does Altair. Altair agrees with me that my Father is in all likelihood dead. I did tell Ursa, however, that Jude warned us not to go to the lab, and that the Deacons know about the Box causing the mutations. 

That had made Ursa very curious.

"The Evernight Skytower is in Stockton," Ursa says, changing the subject. "Altair thinks it will take us a day or so to get there."

"Yeah, he told me when you were buying the tickets," I explain. I hesitate. We're almost at the bow of the ship now, the wind whipping us harder than ever. "Why do you think Jude told us not to bother going to your lab?"

Ursa considers a moment. "The conspiracy minded part of me wants to think that there's something there he doesn't want us to see," she replies. She shrugs. "On the other hand, in all likelihood, there's nothing left of the place. It's been almost a decade since I left it. I mean, we sealed the place up after decommissioning, so there's a good chance it collapsed under the weight of the snow. That happens sometimes."

"Really?" I look skyward at the falling flakes around us. It's difficult for me to imagine any amount of snow that could cause a whole building to collapse! I turn back to Ursa. "What about the part about there being a cure for the mutations that doesn't require my blood? Does that make sense to you? How would Jude know about such a thing?"

"Because he was lying," Altair interrupts us. He'd been lagging behind, checking to see if we were being followed probably, but now he's rejoined us. He says, "I agree that he's probably not working with the Children anymore, but whoever he is working for is likely setting a trap for us."

"No," Ursa interjects, frowning. "That's not it." She hesitates. "I think there's a chance that someone has found the Box, as the Deacons mentioned to you, and that they have found a way to restore it to its original function. That's why they think they don't need your blood, Juno. They just need your DNA. Or Traylor’s since it’s so close to yours." Ursa pauses, considering. "But I find that very hard to believe. The Box would have had to have been altered by someone with scientific knowledge on par with my own, which makes the idea seem exceedingly unlikely."

She smirks to herself. Was that a self-aggrandizing joke?

"Could my Father have done it?" I ask bluntly but casually, as if the idea were a hypothetical just come to mind.

Ursa eyes me warily, taken completely off guard. "Um, yes, I suppose," she replies warily. "He knew everything about our operations in Everwinter. But I thought you said he was dead, Juno?"

"I think that he's dead," I shoot back. I just..." I trail off.

Ursa scowls at me. "Is there something you're not telling me?"

I purse my lips and sigh.

There really is no reason not to tell her.

"Jude claimed that my Father sent him here. And to kidnap Traylor if we didn't do as he asked, apparently. I didn't believe him, and I still don't."

Ursa goes pale, as if she's just realized something. "We have to go to my lab now," she says.

"What? Why?"

Ursa shakes her head. "I have to check on something. If indeed what Jude said was true..." She trails off. "I think it best that you just trust me on this, Juno." She turns her head. "And you, Altair. My lab is only one district over from Stockton. It's practically on the way to the Evernight Skytower. We can get off the boat there."

"But, Traylor..." I protest.

"It won't take us but two hours more at the most," Ursa soothes. "Just believe me that it's of vital importance. I have to check on something that might give us the answers we're looking for."

Altair looks wary, but I trust this woman. "Okay," I say.

Altair shakes his head. "I don't like it. You're not going to like what you find there," he says. "This might be a very bad idea, Ursa."

Ursa scowls. "Do you know something I don't, Altair?"

Altair doesn't emote a reaction. "You’ll find the truth there," he states simply, "but it may not be truth you’re looking for." He turns away from us then, moving swiftly to the other side of the boat.

"What was that all about?" I ask.

"There's something he's obviously not telling us." Ursa stares after Altair. "He's more a part of this than we know, Juno." She hesitates. "I know you trust him, but there's something vital he hasn't been telling us from the beginning."

"Tell me about it," I agree.

We finally reach the bow and our worries about Altair are forgotten for the moment. 

We join a few other curious onlookers, leaning precariously over the front to get a look down at the ocean. We wait our turn, then step up onto the little raised platform provided where the two sides of the ship come together in a perfect V. The wind stings me like salt in a wound, but my discomfort fades when I look down. The people on the docks below look like little living dolls, insects in a hive. The view makes me dizzy. Directly beneath my feet, the bow of the ship juts out severely, a sharp metal protuberance giving the appearance of a massive spear.

Ursa joins me on the platform. "What's that?" I ask, pointing at the strange addition to the prow of the boat.

"An icebreaker," Ursa replies.

She doesn't have to explain any further than that. "Neat!" I exclaim. Chunks of broken ice crash violently against it in waves, creating a honeycomb pattern of ice platforms as far as the eye can see in the eternal darkness.

"How thick does the ice get?" I ask, like a child in school. "Does the ship ever get stuck?"

Ursa shrugs. "My knowledge is limited–I only used this ship a handful of times when I lived in Everwinter. But no. Not that I know of. The Xon travels frequently enough that the ice doesn't have time to reform before the ship cuts through it again." I nod, and a pang of sadness for Traylor assaults me again.

"Are you ladies about finished?" the familiar baritone of Altair asks from behind us.

I turn and roll my eyes at him. "You're such a buzzkill," I admonish. He crosses his arms in response. "Fine," I say, hopping down from the platform. "We're ready."

"I've managed to secure us a private bunker below," he continues. "I suggest we catch some rack time while we have the chance."

"Rack time?" I ask, laughing at him.

"He means sleep," Ursa explains. "Only soldiers use the term though."

"The longer I know you," I say to Altair, "the weirder you get."

"I get that a lot," he smirks, leading us away from the bow.

We head toward the massive, building sized structure at the far end of the ship. It's pocked with doors, windows, and stairs, people moving about them leisurely. We reach a door at the very bottom and step through, coming into a cramped space lined with pipes and a metal floor grating. My claustrophobia kicks in a bit, but it's nothing I can't handle. Covered candles light our way, the light made brighter by reflective metal set in behind them. We head deeper into the ship, coming to a few intersections populated by passengers and crew. We finally come to a stairwell, metal grated steps leading both upward and down.

Altair takes us down.

We descend and descend–I lose track of the flights–but I feel the weight of the structure above us as if it’s a physical thing with each step. We finally reach the bottom and enter another cramped hallway. Just when I think the confinement is more than I can take, we suddenly emerge into a massive, cavernous space, the ceiling above invisible in the murk.

We're in the belly of the ship.

The place smells strongly of grease and oil, and is lined with a series of large, rectangular boxes, all metal. I can only assume that these were once cargo containers, but now they only contain people. We head down the first row of containers, passengers milling about everywhere, some inside the containers, some out. A few small cook fires burn, and the smell of charring meat makes my mouth water.

When was the last time I ate?

I sneak a peek into as many containers as I can as we move, seeing that most are sparsely furnished with old battered cots or simple mattresses. We come to the container at the end of the row and Altair produces a key from his pocket, using it to pop the lock secured to the door. What had these accommodations cost him? I wonder. Another throwing star?

Altair pulls the door open and Ursa and I wait as he goes to work lighting the solitary candle within. Weak light fills the space, revealing two sagging mattresses in each corner and nothing more.

"Come on in," Altair gestures.

We reluctantly do.

I head for the mattress in the far left corner and plunk down on it immediately. Ursa heads for the right one, leaving Altair to uncomfortably choose which of us he wishes to bunk with.

"Don't look at me," I wink at him cheekily, spreading myself out. "I called it first."

Altair frowns.

Ursa laughs. "Don't worry, Assassin, I don't bite." She pats the faded fabric beside her. Altair sighs and falls to Ursa's bed, bouncing a little then closing his eyes. Ursa and I exchange knowing smirks then we both lay back as well. A few minutes later, a loud, shrill whistle echoes to us from somewhere above.

I feel the ship rocking slightly.

We're setting off to sea.

Gods, how I want to be up there to watch the City of Everwinter, with its myriad hive of glowing lights in the snow, fading away from the deck of the ship.

But it's just too damn cold and I'm just too damn tired.

I close my eyes and, with thoughts of Traylor occupying my mind, I'm out almost immediately.

 

 

 

 

60.

 

"Come at me then, if you can!" Halix taunts him.

He sneers, his grip tightening on his practice staff. Behind Halix, a massive red plain stretches to infinite, pocked here and there by craters and mounds, mesas and buttes. The sun reflects a dull, pale red into the atmosphere, making the sky appear crimson as well. 

"You're tempting fate, old man," he snaps back, taking a defensive posture in the Omnite stance, circling his opponent. Halix has a pair of katanas in each hand but, unlike his staff, they are not for practice.

They are real.

Halix laughs, deep and throaty. "You were my most promising student in nearly a decade, Altair! And you throw it away!" He hesitates. "I give you once chance now. Call this off, and I will let you return to your training. In shame, of course. But you will not be cast out of Ma'adeem Vallis. You have but once chance to become an Assassin. When you fail, you will never be permitted to enter these halls again."

Halix gestures to the training ground around them. It's a dome, really, on the surface of the desert, transparent but for the steel buttresses that support the glass. Red earth crunches underneath their boots as they circle one another inside a steep walled crater. On the lip of the bluffs around them, a cadre of Altair's fellow Assassin's in training watch expectantly. 

Navani is up there, somewhere.

She probably expects him to fail too.

"You know I cannot do that," Altair returns. "I am ready, Old Man, despite what you think. This will be the last day I call you teacher."

"Fool!" Halix snarls back, kicking at the dirt. "You have let yourself be goaded into this! But I can see there's no turning back for you. So be it." He flourishes his katanas. "Come at me then, if you can!"

Altair leaps forward, bouncing lightly from one foot to the other, spinning his entire body through the air. He keeps the staff tucked tight, only swinging it outward in a deadly flourish when he lands. Halix, however, sees the attack coming and leaps straight upward, surprisingly lithe for a skinny old timer. He swings one katana and then the other. Altair ducks the first blow and blocks the second with his staff, a large chunk of the wood gouged away in an explosion of splinters.

Bloody ashes! he curses to himself.

His weapon won't take many more blows like–

Halix presses the advantage, coming in aggressively before Altair's even recovered. He swings both swords as one, slamming the blades directly into the staff...which splinters into two upon impact.

Altair stumbles backward, stunned.

How had it gone so wrong so quickly?

Was Halix right? Had he been foolish to challenge his mentor this early?

Halix sees the stunned look on his face. "I told you to call it off!" he bellows at his former student. "Now you pay the price for your overconfidence! At least your tale will be a lesson for all who might seek to follow in your footsteps, Altair."

He raises both katanas above his head, holding them crossed just behind his shoulders. Altair tosses the shattered remains of his staff to the dirt. He has fear, but he won't let it get the better of him. He still has one hand left to play.

Halix leaps and swings, going directly for Altair's neck.

But he misses.

Altair throws himself sideways, rolling in the dirt. Halix is behind him in an instant, kicking him to the ground before he can even get to his knees. Altair is stunned. Halix's heavy boot holds him pinned to the soil. Altair has one hand out in front of him, gripping the dirt. The other, he has tucked beneath his body, feeling the press from Halix. He moves that hand, searching, finding his tunic pants pocket.

The hard metal object is still there.

All he has to do now is wait...

"Go with the gods, Altair," Halix says, a tinge of regret in his tone. "You have earned a place among them." Altair hears the katanas swing upward to deliver the final blow.

A low rumble suddenly courses through the earth, the soil particles in front of his face vibrating and bouncing.

Right on time, Altair thinks.

A massive explosion suddenly sounds from across the desert, becoming a momentary flash of blinding light. Altair keeps his head buried, but Halix receives the full brunt of it. He screams in agony. 

Altair presses the advantage.

He flips his body, pushing Halix's leg off his back. At the same time he pulls the metal object secreted in his pocket and lets it fly. He's only got one, but it's all he needs. The throwing star flies true. It strikes Halix just below the jugular, nicking the massive vein as it enters his skin.

Blood pours immediately.

It's not a fatal wound–if Halix goes for treatment now–but he won't be able to continue the fight.

It's over. Altair has won.

Holding his neck, Halix grins down at his former pupil, stunned but impressed. "I underestimated you," he admits. "It won't happen again...Assassin."

"Thank you, Halix," Altair replies, getting to his feet, speaking the old man's true name for the first time ever.

Behind Halix, a massive rocket streaks into the atmosphere, propelling it to the furthest depths of dark space.

BAROOOOO!

 

 

"Hey! Altair! Wake up!"

BAROOOOO!

He opens his eyes.

I jump back as the Assassin snaps his body forward, reaching for my neck with one hand, his throwing stars with the other. 

"Altair!" I scream.

He stops mid-motion, blinking his eyes, shaking his head. He relaxes, to my relief.

"Sorry," he says, clearly shocked by his loss of control.

I shake my own head. "Um, yeah," I reply.

BAROOOOO!

"How many whistles is that?" Altair asks, getting to his feet from the mattress in our container. 

I turn to Ursa, who's been awake longer than me.

"Five," she replies. "Do you know where we are?" she asks.

Altair nods. "I think so." He stretches his back out. "But I should probably double check. Stay here. I'll be right back." He disappears out the door.

I turn an astonished gaze on Ursa. "What was that about?" I ask.

"He was tossing and turning in his sleep," she replies. "And mumbling something I couldn't quite make out."

"I heard it too," I nod. It was Altair's groaning that had woken me, not the blast of the ship's whistle above us. "Something about a helix and an old man," I say.

Ursa nods. "I heard something else too. Ma'adeem Vallis. Does that mean anything to you?"

I shrug my shoulders. "No clue," I say. "Maybe that's where he's from? The Land of Assassins or something?"

"Maybe," Ursa agrees, but she's clearly unsure. An awkward silence descends between us and I fidget.

"What's wrong?" Ursa asks.

A loaded question.

Altair's nightmare has brought back memories of my own.

I get up from my mattress and plunk down next to Ursa on hers. "I have something to tell you," I say.

"What is it, honey?" Ursa asks, her tone Motherly. It makes me cringe.

I sigh and let it out. "I know who betrayed you all those years ago," I explain. "I know who let it slip that you were missing a toenail on one foot."

Ursa raises her eyebrows, surprised but not shocked. She hesitates, then laughs to herself. "I'm not sure I want to know," she says. "I mean, I've had my suspicions, but it's a mystery I've actually been content to lay dormant. My secret was bound to get out sooner or later. I accepted that fact long before it ever happened."

I smile back at her, reaching up to touch my Mother on her scarred, tumored face. Maybe she doesn't want to know, but I have to tell her.

For my own benefit. And guilt. 

Call it selfish if you want to.

"It was me," I say, letting the hammer drop.

Ursa's face seems to melt, drooping into the deepest of frowns. Then she laughs again, for a wonder. "That's not possible, Juno," she finally replies. "How could you–"

"It was an accident," I explain, cutting her off. "I was just a kid. Five, I think. I was in school and we were learning about the True Body Plan. Mrs. Cromarty was asking us about fingers and toes. I... I..." I sigh, having trouble admitting the truth. "I let it slip that you only have nine toenails, Ursa. I guess I counted them on your foot one time and so I assumed that that was normal. I thought that some people had nine while others had ten." I meet Ursa's gaze fully. "I'm so sorry," I finish. Tears begin to fall.

"Oh, Juno," Ursa says, pulling me into a tight embrace. "How can you possibly blame yourself for that? Like you said, you were just a child! If anything, I should have been more careful. I should have kept my toes hidden, even at home." I start to sob into her shoulder, soaking her tunic. "Oh, Juno," she repeats. "It would have happened whether you said anything or not. One way or another. I don't blame you. You are my daughter. I love you."

I finally pull away from her, meeting her eyes again. "I... I love you too, Mother," I reply. We pull each other in tight again and remain that way for a time.

Altair returns ten minutes later.

"Stockton is the next stop," he reveals. "We should get ready. We'll be there within the hour. I–" He pauses, seeing our emotionally fragile states. "What's going on?" he asks.

Ursa waves him away. "It's a family thing," she replies, offering nothing further.

"Fair enough," he agrees. "I'll, um... I'll meet you both up top in ten, okay?"

"Sure," Ursa replies. Altair leaves us again. "Ready to go?" my Mother asks me.

"Yeah," I say, pulling away from her with a smile. "Let's find Traylor and get this family back together."

As Altair ordered, we join him on the upper deck of the ship ten minutes later.

It's still blustery as ever up here, but the Xon is slowing down, the crew having slackened the sails and ruddered the massive ship into port. Ropes thicker than my body are tossed overboard by Everwinter mutants to the dockhands below. With a spine tingling creak of protest, the Xon finally comes to rest at the docks.

The snow has lessened somewhat, and I can now make out this new section of Everwinter City–the Stockton District. It looks just like the rest of the city; a series of varying, hive-like mounds, dug out in the snow and glowing from within. There's a massive mound at the center of the District, higher than any I've yet seen. It towers over us, even on the deck of the Xon, like a topless mountain.

"That's the Evernight Skytower," Ursa tells me, noticing my scrutiny. It's not far from where we are now.

My heart palpitates. "Traylor!" I whisper. I turn to Ursa. "Are you sure about having to go to your lab? We're so close! I think maybe we should just go straight for–"

"Trust me, Juno," Ursa cuts me off. "I need to see if something is missing from it. Then we can go. It may be of vital importance. Once we get there, I'll explain everything."

I huff, still staring up and the Skytower. "Okay," I say. "I trust you."

"Thank you," Ursa says with a smile, taking my hand.

"It's time to go," Altair urges from behind us. I look down and see that, indeed, the loading platform has been extended and passengers are already disembarking.

We leave the Xon behind.

Down on the dock, the snow drifts are thicker than I've ever seen. Movement is a tough slog.

"How far is it to your lab?" I ask Ursa, already huffing and puffing.

"About ten clicks," Ursa replies matter of factly. I groan in protest. Ursa turns and smiles at me. "Don't worry, we'll be there in about twenty minutes or so."

"Huh?" I say, looking around despondently. "In case you haven't noticed, it's not exactly all paved roads around here."

TAAAWEEEEET!

Ursa puts two fingers in her mouth, letting out a shrill, high pitched whistle, shockingly loud. I hear a sound, something akin to a roar and a bark, and feel a rumble as something bounds toward us from an open fronted building about fifty feet away.

My jaw nearly drops to the snow.

A massive, four legged white beast slams to a stop in the snow in front of Ursa, harnessed to a contraption that could only be described as a couch on skis.

I'd only just learned what skis are a few days ago.

"Is that...a bear?" I ask, astonished. There are bears all over the woods around Krakelyn, of course, but they're usually black, and about a third of the size of this behemoth.

Ursa grins. "A snow bear, yes," she explains. "And he's pulling what's known as a snowshaw." 

An Everwinter mutant ambles over to us from the open storefront and greets us with a needle toothed smile, holding his palm out. "Fifty credits," he grumbles in his guttural tongue.

Ursa turns to Altair. "Pay the man," she says.

Altair grumbles as well. "That's all the money I have left," he says.

"We won't need any more," Ursa assures him. Altair sighs and pulls open his parka, searching the pockets for the last of the money he'd earned selling one of his throwing stars. He pays the mutant the fifty credits.

"You have three hours," the mutant informs us. "Bear will return here whether you on snowshaw or not."

"That will be more time than we need," Ursa says. The mutant grunts and returns to his business. Ursa climbs aboard the snowshaw. The 'couch' is large enough to accommodate four people comfortably, enclosed entirely by a fabric roofed structure.

"Let's go," Ursa urges us.

I look at Altair who simply shrugs and we climb aboard.

"How do you even control this thing?" I ask. "How does it know where to take us?"

Ursa grins again and reaches forward, grasping a set of reins attached to the snow bear's harness. With a loud "HIYA!" Ursa cracks the reins, kicking the snow bear into gear. The beast roars and rears up on its hind paws, causing the snowshaw to heave backward.

"Ursa!" I scream in fear, but my Mother just laughs.

She cracks the reins again and the snow bear charges, bearing us through the streets of Stockton at breakneck speed.

 

 

 

 

61.

 

"My gods, Ursa," I say, shaking my head in disbelief. "What happened here?"

"I don't know," Ursa replies, never tearing her gaze from the massive crater that sits before us.

We're still sitting in the snowshaw, the bear having settled at Ursa's command. The shaw itself sits at the edge of a massive crater, a giant scoop taken out of the side of a hill on the shore of the sea. The wind has finally died down, and now only a light snow sprinkles down around us. There's snow in the crater, but not as much as there should be. It's mostly dirt, and most of it has been blown outward, still smoking in some places, creating violent piles on the surrounding landscape. Beams, girders, and other support structures stick up out of the ground, twisted and bent. What happened here happened very recently.

The remains of Ursa's lab.

Ursa shakes her head in denial, climbing out of the snowshaw and clambering for the edge of the crater.

"Be careful!" Altair calls after her. We quickly follow.

Ursa goes down on her butt and slides down the side of the crater, heedless of any obstacles that might be hidden below the snow's surface. She's getting hysterical, trudging through the snow like a mad woman.

"Take it easy!" I call after her.

"It's all gone!" she replies, shaking her head. "I just... I had no idea! How did this happen?"

I turn my scrutiny on Altair. He'd mentioned earlier that we wouldn't like what we'd find here.

"What do you know?" I ask him. Ursa has finally stopped at the center of the crater and we join her momentarily.

Altair sighs. "I know everything," he admits. "This is where it all began, Juno."

Ursa finally snaps out of her stupor and spins on Altair. "Start talking!" she demands.

Altair nods. "Well, first," he says, "I want you to know that I had nothing to do with this." He gestures to the crater. "I didn't know that this is what we would find here."

I sneer. "But you said we wouldn't like what we find here! You must have known! You just said you know everything!"

"Sorry, that's not what I meant." Altair shakes his head. "This happened maybe a week ago, Juno. I've been with you the entire time. Someone else set off this detonation."

"Who?" Ursa demands, becoming crosser by the minute.

"Pilcrow," Altair answers without hesitation.

Ursa and I are both taken aback. "Pilcrow?" I say, stunned. "How do you know that?"

All I can think in my mind is: I let him go. I let Pilcrow live...back in Takay...

Altair bends down, brushing aside the dirt and snow where we're standing. There are moderate depressions in the ice below it, and it takes me a second to realize that they're footprints, half buried.

Someone walked through here after the explosion.

Someone with six toes.

"An Everwinter mutant?" I say. "So what? In case you haven't noticed, this place is crawling with them. I'm sure that explosion would have drawn them in for miles. You can't know that these prints belonged to Pilcrow."

"But I do," Altair informs. "I know Pilcrow's tracks, Juno. And Everwinter mutants are afraid of fire. None would have come within a click of this place unless they had a very good reason to. Pilcrow did. He was trying to destroy something." His gaze falls on Ursa. "You know what I'm talking about," he says.

Stunned, I turned to Ursa, who nods sluggishly. "Yeah," she admits, "I do. The Cortex."

"The what?" I ask. It's like I've just walked in on the middle of this conversation and have no clue as to what's going on.

Ursa turns to me with a guilty expression. "The Cortex was the original machine I built to cure mutations," she explains. "It's what your Father and I worked to achieve all those years ago." She hesitates. "The Box, the one that caused the mutations, was its power core." I gasp. "The Cortex," Ursa continues, "like the Box, was coded to your DNA, Juno, your pure, unmutated genome."

"Okay," I say, finally starting to get it. Sort of.

"The Cortex, again like the Box, was built from a nearly indestructible material called Amantium. Very rare, but necessary for its electro-conductive properties. A simple explosion would have barely put a scratch in it. It should still be here."

I gasp, looking around. "Where is it then?"

Ursa looks down, staring at her feet. "Right where we're standing," she replies.

I look down too.

Ursa crouches and starts swiping away at the dirt and snow, only partially frozen, revealing a smooth, metal surface.

The floor of the lab.

She keeps sweeping, finally coming to a small mound. She uncovers it, revealing a raised plate about four feet square. A series of anchor bolts sticks up out of the plate where something had once been attached. I hunker next to Ursa and see the threads on the anchors have been scoured recently, the metal shiny. Something was removed from here not long ago. 

After the explosion…

"Did Pilcrow take the Cortex?" I ask, thinking of no other explanation.

"No," Altair comes in, "but he tried. Somebody stopped him."

"Somebody?" I ask.

Altair nods, moving and uncovering more footprints as he had earlier. Smaller footprints. Human footprints. He also uncovers something else; a large gash in the steel and a small, dark blue stain.

"Is that blood?" I ask.

"Pilcrow's, to be exact," Altair confirms. "Everwinter mutant blood is blue in color."

"Somebody shot Pilcrow?” I say, crossing my arms. “It sounds to me like you're extrapolating a fair bit here.”

"No, Juno," Ursa comes to Altair's defense. "He's right. This is why I wanted to come here. My suspicions have been confirmed. Jude wasn't lying to you, Juno. Your Father is here, in Everwinter. He has the Box, and now he has the Cortex. With both, he can reverse the pulse that caused the mutations in the first place. That's why he had Traylor kidnapped when it was apparent you wouldn't go willingly to the Evernight Skytower."

"What do you mean? Why would he do that?" I'm getting overwhelmed here.

"You and Traylor share 99% genetic compatibility, Juno. If he couldn't get you to power the Cortex, he had to settle for the next best thing. Your brother." I gasp.

"And," Altair comes in, "if that doesn't work, he knows that you'll come after Traylor and walk right into his hands."

I shake my head, stepping away from these two, in total denial.

"You're talking about my Father as if he's a villain!" I scowl at them. "You're wrong! Pilcrow must be behind all this! He has to be!"

"Pilcrow is part of it," Altair confirms, "but he's not the villain, Juno. Pilcrow has a deep seated hatred of your Father that goes back to when your Mother first went into hiding. Experiments were performed on Everwinter mutants to help facilitate a cure. Many of them unwillingly." Altair hesitates. "Pilcrow's son was one of those unwilling participants."

"His son?" I'm floored.

"Yes," Ursa comes in, owning up to the deed. "I am deeply ashamed of this, Juno, but when we couldn't get enough willing subjects, your Father resorted to more desperate methods. He had Everwinter mutant children kidnapped and brought to our lab. I had my suspicions but, I... I never questioned it. I was scared to say anything. Your Father was becoming such a monster!" Ursa sobs a little, but I don't feel sympathy.

And just when I'm starting to accept her as my Mother again.

"Pilcrow's son was one of those casualties," Altair picks up the story. "Pilcrow didn't know who was responsible though, not for sure. He had his suspicions though. When this lab was finally decommissioned, they buried it under the snow. Your Father hired me and a few other Assassins to guard it. They had to get out quickly because the truth about the facility's purpose had gotten out to the mutant residents of Everwinter. Riots broke out.

“The Cortex was completed and in the trial phase, but it had to be abandoned. It was getting too dangerous. After that, Pilcrow gathered a crew and tried for years to dig into the facility, trying to find out who was behind the kidnapping of his son. They came close a few times, but we always stopped them. Over the next few years, my fellow Assassins and I became complacent. We underestimated Pilcrow's desire to learn the truth. He managed to get his hands on some Forerunner technology."

I nod, still sitting in the snow, recalling the Thopter and grenados back in Takay.

"They came at us after a few months of absence. We were unprepared for the shooting irons, grenados, and Thopters they brought with them. I was the only one to survive the assault. Pilcrow and his henchmen breached the facility. I didn't fully understand the technology, but I knew that if he got his hands on the Cortex, bad things could happen. I had to take the lab back. I made an escape and planned a recourse. There was no time to call for reinforcements. There weren't any anyway. I am now one of only a handful of Assassins left in the world, Juno.

“Pilcrow was in control of the place for almost a month before I got back in. But that was all he'd needed. He studied the cumpewters and documents left behind. He's a very smart mutant. Very smart. He figured out how to reverse the pulse from the Cortex, causing mutations instead of curing them. I never knew. I pulled the Box from the machine, the power core. But I was waylaid. My only recourse was to head for the roof.

“Pilcrow cornered me there, at the edge by the shore of the sea. He threw a grenado and I don't remember what happened after. I awoke on the ground and the Box was gone." He pauses, staring at me. "It wouldn't be until a month later, after I returned to Krakelyn and your Father, that I would learn what happened to it.”

Altair steps forward, leaning down beside me, taking my hand.

"It was Pilcrow, Juno. He’d found out the truth about your Father," he continues. "He found out that Jonathan Quinn was the one that kidnapped his son. He also figured out that the Box required your DNA to work. After reversing its effects, he transported it all the way to Krakelyn, planting it on the beach. Your beach, Juno."

From my sitting position, I fall onto my back, the weight of everything crushing me at once.

I don't know how to take all this.

"I'm sorry, Juno," Altair says. "I failed."

"My Father failed," I say, still lying on my back.

Altair nods, seeming relieved. He says: "With the Box finally activated and all humans turned mutant, Pilcrow's plan for vengeance went off without a hitch. However, I think he assumed your family would be killed in the chaos that followed the Final Judgment. He was wrong. He didn't anticipate that you would survive, and that your Father would send you to your Mother in order to come up with a new cure. He's been tracking us ever since, burning Ursa's lab in Venecici, one step behind us until Takay. After Takay, he must have known we would head here, to try and reactivate the Cortex. That's why he blew up the lab. But it didn't work. The machine survived the explosion, and your Father took it back."

Altair pauses to let all that sink in.

I'm just... I don't know what I am right now.

"I still don't get why my Father would send Jude after us," I say. "A man I hate."

"In all likelihood," Altair offers, "your Father didn't know what Jude had done, and so thought you would trust him. Your Father was being tracked by the Deacons, remember? He couldn't risk leading them to you himself."

"Maybe," I huff, unconvinced. "This is so messed up!" I lift my numb butt out of the snow. "How could he do that to Traylor? To me? We're his children for the gods sake!"

"Juno," Altair says, "Your Father knows that the human race is doomed to sterility in a matter of a century if he doesn't do something. He may be your Father, but he was a Deacon long before that. Despite all he did to try to help your Mother, he's still a follower of the True Body Plan at heart. He's doing what he feels is right."

I shake my head and finally push to my feet.

"You know what?” I say. “I don't wanna know any more! Not right now! I just… I need some time to think!"

I storm away from Altair and Ursa, my brain on information overload.

I've been nothing but a pawn in a game between my Father and Pilcrow this entire time!

Navigating the debris filled crater, I come to the edge of the shoreline, a frozen crust of water greeting my arrival. I look out across the dark, iceberg laden ocean and feel like I want to start walking in and never stop.

My whole life has been a lie!

As insane as the religion surrounding the True Body Plan is, I don't think I could ever justify using my children to try and get around it. My parents should have simply accepted the fact that Mother was missing a toenail and either gone into hiding as a family, or submitted her for Judgment. Instead, they tried to play gods…and the Final Judgment was the result!

I whirl around, facing Altair and Ursa.

They're still standing near the center of the crater, looking back at me but giving me the distance I need.

I stare at Ursa. It's her fault I'm in this mess!

And Traylor!

I kick at the snow in front of me.

What happens now? If we go to the Evernight Skytower and try to rescue Traylor, will Father be waiting there with open arms or with a shooting iron drawn? I don't know what this Cortex machine does, but it must be something awful. It–

I stop myself midthought.

There's something in the snow in front of me.

A face?

I stoop down, falling to my knees. I start swiping at the snow. 

It is a face! 

It's behind a glass wall of some sort, like a tube or a glass coffin. The glass is frosted, so I pull off my thick woolen gloves and use my fingernails to start scratching at it. I scratch until my cuticles bleed. I scratch until–

I stop.

No. It can't be.

I shake my head, sure that the stress of the past hour has gotten to me. My mind has snapped.

I must be insane.

But I know that I'm not.

I'm not insane.

The face looking up at me through the glass–dead, frozen, wide eyed–is a face I've known my entire life. It's a face I see every time I look into a pool of water, or a reflecting glass.

The face is my own.

"What the bloody hells?" I ask aloud. 

Heart hammering, I look back up toward Altair and Ursa, sure they must know what's going on here.

But they're no longer standing.

My companions are both face down in the snow, another figure standing in their place. The figure rushes toward me.

I'm too stunned to move.

"Sorry about this, Juno," the figure says, lifting a familiar weapon–used on the Deacons back in that alley in Everwinter City. The figure pulls the trigger and a whooshing sound is the result. Pain erupts in my shoulder and I barely have time to register the dart sticking out of it.

I fall onto my back the world going hazy...

"Sorry about this," he says again. 

The last thing I see before I pass out is Jude's sincerely apologetic face hovering over me.

 

 

 

 

62.

 

I love you, Juno Quinn...

I open my eyes.

"Despite everything that's happened, I still love you with everything I've got."

My vision's blurry.

The first thing I notice is that I can't move.

I can feel my hands above me, locked into something over my head. My feet are spread apart, equally locked. I can't move a muscle.

"I don't expect you to feel the same way. Not right now. But maybe, given time..."

The voice trails off.

His face is indistinct, but I know that it's Jude. I snarl and I spit, not knowing if I'm anywhere close to my target. When I hear a cry of disgust, I know that I got him. Jude's blurry form makes an aggressive movement toward me.

"That's enough, Jude!" another familiar voice calls out. 

" Father?" I ask, bewildered. I'd recognize that voice anywhere.

My vision is resolving slowly, revealing a crestfallen Jude moving aside to let the familiar visage of my Father enter my sight. He looks a lot older than the last time I saw him.

When was that? Two months ago? Three?

I truly can't remember.

My old home in Krakelyn seems like a distant dream now.

"It's me, Juno," Father answers. "I'm here."

"What's going on?" I ask, struggling against whatever's holding me back. I look up now and can make out large metal cuffs secured to each of my wrists, attached to something large behind me. A machine of some sort. I can hear it whirring and beeping.

"You're safe now," my Father answers, deftly sidestepping the question. "Everything is going to be alright."

I shake my head. "Where are the others? Ursa and Altair. And Traylor!"

"I'm here," Ursa's meek voice floats to me from nearby. I strain my eyes to look past my Father. Ursa is indeed there, her eyes cast to the floor. She looks immensely ashamed.

"Altair and Traylor are safe," she says. She turns and looks across the room. I follow her gaze, my vision nearing normalcy now. It's dark in here, but I can tell it's a lab of some sort, with all sorts of high tech equipment, displays, and...

Telescopes!

The Evernight Skytower!

I look up and see that the roof is a massive dome, covered in tiny white pinpricks taking on familiar patterns.

"Stars," my Father explains to me. "Of course, we're not really seeing the sky in here. This Skytower, like everything else in Everwinter, is buried under layers of snow. The ceiling is just as illusion–what the sky would look like if it were visible from here."

I shake my head in bewilderment. Normally, I'd find this fascinating. I love astronomy! But not now.

"Where are Traylor and Altair?" I ask, ignoring my Father.

Ursa is still staring forlornly across the room. "There," she points.

I can't see anything because Jude is in my way. He steps aside, revealing a large glass box about fifty feet away, illuminated from within. Altair is inside, his hands pressed to the glass, staring back at me. The worry in his eyes makes me sick.

His lips open and close slowly: "It's going to be okay," he mouths.

I can't hear him.

The glass box is a sealed container.

And he's not alone inside.

There's a large creature in the far corner, slumped down, head resting between its legs. One leg is wrapped with a hasty bandage, soaked blue from a wound of some sort. A bullet wound. The creature's skin is covered in fine, bluish-white hairs, the hair on its head shaved at the sides into twin mohawks. Its hands sport long, wicked black claws.

An Everwinter mutant.

"Pilcrow," I say aloud, stunned.

Altair is locked up with Pilcrow! Alone!

Altair notices my worry but shakes his head.

Pilcrow is not a threat, his expression seems to read.

My anxiety doesn't subside, however.

"Where the hells is Traylor!" I demand, pulling at my bonds. The machine behind me whirrs a little louder. It's the Cortex, I realize for the first time. The machine coded specifically to my DNA to cure mutations...

"He's resting, Juno," my Father reassures with a hand on my shoulder. "He's had a rough day."

"What did you do to him?" I snarl, shirking my Father's touch away.

"Nothing," Father reassures again. "He's perfectly fine, Juno. The Cortex didn't work on him, as I suspected. You only share 99% of your DNA with him, after all. It's a shame we never got to fully test the Cortex all those years ago before we had to flee Everwinter. We might have known not to bother with Traylor. Isn't that right, Ursa?" My Father turns toward my Mother, expecting an answer.

"There is no 'we'," Ursa snidely replies. "I had nothing to do your kidnapping of Traylor!"

My Father shrugs. "True," he says. "But you did help me with Juno here. Without you, I'd never have gotten the Cortex up and running properly."

Ursa laughs, pointing at my Father's waist. "Right,” she sneers, “and that had nothing to do with it?"

I look down, seeing the holster attached to my Father's hip. 

A shooting iron.

He'd forced Ursa to help him at shooter point!

"Ursa was right!" I snarl at my Father. "You are a monster!"

Father sighs, his gaze becoming sullen. "No matter how I try to justify it," he says, "I've struggled with that same realization myself, Juno. And I don't deny it. I've had to do many a cruel and terrible thing in the name of the True Body Plan. But it will end today. The Final Judgment has created a world doomed to extinction in little more than a decade if we don't do something about it.”

He pauses, clearing his throat.

“A decade?” I ask, confused. “I thought we had a century!”

“So did I,” Father replies. “But I've discovered a few more things about our mutations since I first sent you on this mad quest, Juno." He pauses, caressing the crop of tumors that have sprouted up on his forehead. He didn't have those last I saw him.

"Not only is the human race sterile, but cancerous. We all have it–excepting you and Traylor, of course. At first, we thought the growths were benign. But further testing has revealed the presence of malignancies in a majority of cases." He turns to Ursa again. "Isn't that right?"

Ursa, eyes still on the floor, nods meekly. "Yes," she confirms. "Everybody's got it. Some will last it longer than others but..." She hesitates. "Ninety percent of the human population will be dead within the next decade, Juno. We have much less time left than we thought." 

I gasp, stunned.

Traylor and I really could be the last humans left on this planet!

"What about the Everwinter mutants?" I ask. "What will happen to them?"

"They will inherit the world," my Father answers. "Those humans who do manage to survive the cancerous plague will be at their mercy. And given the, um, unsavory history between our species, I think you can imagine what that will mean for them."

I shut my eyes, trying not to imagine it. 

But I can't. 

I've read The Forerunner Archives. 

In the past, humans nearly destroyed the mutants of Everwinter, allowing them only to live on the frigid side of the planet, oppressing them with our sheer numbers. Without that advantage, we will be enslaved...or worse.

And Traylor and I will be around to see it happen...

I'm silent, but my Father can read my expression. "You see that there really is no other way, Juno. Millions will suffer needlessly. But you can save them. That's why your Mother and I built the Cortex. At first, it was just a way to cure mutations so that not another person had to suffer through a Judgment. Now, it can save us all from Judgment." 

My Father stops talking finally, an awkward silence descending on the room. My eyes dart about, falling on Jude. He’s standing near the glass box, watching me intently. It irks me, but I can actually see the love in his eyes.

I hope he can see my hate.

Next, my gaze falls on Altair, still standing at the edge of his prison, staring at me forlornly, shaking his head. He looks at me in much the same way that Jude does. 

That must be my imagination.

Altair doesn't love me.

Not in the way Jude does, at least.

Pilcrow is still slumped in the corner, head hanging low between his legs. He could be dead for all I know.

Lastly, my eyes fall on Ursa.

She's crying now; sobbing, in fact. She won't look at me. My Mother. She's as much a part of this as my Father. But she's also a victim. A victim of the True Body Plan. If the Cortex can cure all mutations, then the True Body Plan will truly be irrelevant.

Mutations will be non-existent. 

Why wouldn't I want to do this?

Because there's a catch they haven't told you about yet...

"What will happen to me?" I ask. The question directed at Ursa. “What will happen when the Cortex goes off?”

All eyes fall on my Mother.

Ursa shakes her scarred, tumored head. Tears streak and fall from her cheeks. "You'll die," she says, clearly having to force the words out.

It doesn't come as a shock to me.

Somehow, I'd been expecting it. 

A sudden image flashes in my mind.

I see myself, my own dead body–skin pale, lips blue, eyes shut–buried under snow. I feel like it's a memory. But how could I have a memory of seeing myself dead?

An out of body experience? I wonder.

"You designed a machine that will kill me?" I ask, trying to hide my skepticism. "And you used it on Traylor already? What if it had worked?"

"The Cortex is a…complicated machine, Juno," Ursa replies. "I... I can't explain to you how or why. The truth would just make things worse, and I don't want that to be your last memory of this life. I'm sorry."

"Me too," I say, sighing long and deep. My eyes fall on the decrepit Pilcrow, still limp in his corner. Altair seems to be talking to him now though... 

"One last thing," I say. "The Cortex. You said before it will cure all mutations. Does that include Everwinter mutants too?"

Ursa looks at my Father, who nods. "We think so," Ursa replies. "We think it will make them all human once again."

I nod, my suspicions confirmed. Everyone in the world will be the same. No more mutations anywhere.

No more religion. Just a level playing field. 

World peace even.

"Okay then," I say. "I'm ready. I'm willing to do this. I'm willing to die if–"

CRRRAAACK!

The sound is deafening in the enclosed Evernight Skytower. We all look toward the source of the sound.

The glass box.

There's a massive crack in one wall, a shattered spider web.

"That's impossible!" my Father declares. "That box is made of kimberlite! It's nearly indestructi–"

Pilcrow throws his massive frame against the glass a final time.

The box shatters.

 

 

 

 

63.

 

He opens his eyes.

Immediately, he has to shut them again.

The light in here is bright, unnaturally white, and he thinks for a moment he must be experiencing snow blindness. It's a rare occurrence, but known to happen in the higher latitudes of the Fringes where the sun still shines in the sky but snow stays on the ground.

That can't be right though.

It's warm in here. Comfortably so.

He cracks his lids, a millimeter at a time, letting his pupils dilate and get used to so much brightness after weeks of so much darkness. He feels the ground beneath him and realizes that it's not ground at all but a floor. Smooth and frictionless like glass.

He opens his eyes again.

It is glass.

It's all around him.

He's in a box of some sort, not unlike those containers on the Xon, but made entirely of transparent glass. He knocks on it, feeling how hard it is. Very hard. It might even be kimberlite, one of the hardest glass compounds ever known. The harsh light comes from two powerful spotlights sitting on the roof of the box above.

What is this place and how did he get here?

He hears a SNORT! behind him.

He's laying on his side and so he whirls, rolling away from the sound and coming up on one knee in a defensive Omnite fighting stance. He feels foolish immediately.

There's nothing here to fight.

But he's not alone in the box.

The hulking, slumped form of an Everwinter mutant sits pathetically in the opposite corner, knees pulled up, head tucked between its legs. Long hair sticks up off its head like blue stalagmites. He can't see the creature's face, but he'd recognize his adversary even if all he could see was a single toenail.

Pilcrow.

The mutant is snoring, clearly asleep. His leg is wrapped with a hasty bandage, blue blood already soaked through the fabric. A bullet wound, received in the crater where Ursa Quinn's Everwinter lab had once stood. Pilcrow had blown it up, returning to ensure that his true target–the Cortex–had been destroyed. 

It hadn't.

That was when Jonathan Quinn had intervened, shooting Pilcrow in the leg and taking the Cortex for himself.

With the help of Jude, of course.

Juno!

Feeling ashamed he hadn't thought of her already, Altair steps fully to his feet, still feeling groggy from the knockout dart Jude had shot him with. He can't believe he'd been taken unawares like that. His back aches where the dart pierced him, but he can feel a bandage placed over the resultant wound.

He ignores the discomfort for now.

He steps to the edge of his glass prison, reaching the wall and placing his palms upon it. Outside, he sees myriad displays and equipment. Telescopes and star charts mostly. Above, the ceiling is a massive dome, glowing bright with artificial starlight.

This is the Evernight Skytower.

Ahead and to the left, three figures are congregated around a fourth, locked into a machine of some sort.

The Cortex!

Juno is strapped inside, her body stretched in an X shape.

She's unconscious.

Behind her, the Cortex itself is a six foot rectangular prism standing on end, covered in wires, electrodes, blinking lights, readouts, and a keypad. Ursa moves around the Cortex, carrying an object that has haunted Altair ever since he'd gotten involved with Jonathan Quinn.

The Box. The power core for the Cortex.

A man walks behind her, following her. He's holding a shooting iron but doesn't have it pointed directly at her. The threat is obvious, however.

Jonathan Quinn.

Altair grits his teeth and bangs on the wall as hard as he can, barely making a sound. The people outside don't even notice. His prison is airtight.

Ursa places the Box inside the Cortex, clearly dismayed, and the machine whirs to life. Juno stirs briefly in her bonds but doesn't open her eyes. Not yet.

What will this machine do to her?

With that done, Jonathan waves his shooter at Ursa and she moves to the keypad on the machine, pressing buttons, turning dials. Juno stirs a little more.

"Leave her alone!" Altair screams, banging on the glass again.

No reaction from the outside world.

The third figure out there, Jude, watching Jonathan and Ursa intently from nearby, now steps up to the helpless Juno, reaching out and putting his hands on her cheeks, lifting her unconscious head up. He steps in and kisses her.

"You bloody bastard!" Altair growls, banging on the glass, kicking it relentlessly using the Omnite technique.

"Don't bother," a sullen voice mumbles from behind him. "It's made of kimberlite. Completely indestructible." Altair turns and looks at Pilcrow again, but the mutant literally hasn't moved. His head still hangs between his tucked up legs.

Altair shakes his head. "There has to be a weakness," he says. "They put us in here. There has to be a door."

"I've never found it," Pilcrow grumbles. "And I've been in here for a week." He lifts his head for a moment, meeting Altair with a haunted, desperate red gaze. "It's over, Altair. The Quinns have won. They're gonna set off that machine and cure the mutations, killing their own daughter in the process." His head falls back down.

Altair gasps. "Kill her?" he repeats. His heart hammers. Rarely does he let fear overwhelm him…but rarely is he ever this helpless. There has to be a door!

He starts moving around the box, feeling the walls, looking for a crack. All he sees is a label stenciled on the outside: SPECIMEN CAGE. It's a large cage, so it probably housed large specimens at one time–whatever they were. There has to be a door. Frustrated, Altair pounds at the glass again, his leather tunic jacket, hanging open, flailing like rudders behind him.

Suddenly, something clatters to the floor behind him.

He turns, thinking Pilcrow must have dropped a piece of metal, but instead he sees a familiar five pointed object at his feet. He immediately pats down his jacket, searching for more. Jude must have found the others when he was knocked out, but Altair always keeps one secreted away in the lining of his jacket.

A throwing star.

One of the sharpest objects in the world.

He leans down and picks it up, feeling the surprising weight for such a small weapon. He holds it between his right thumb and forefinger, one point directly outward. He leans in close to the glass and presses the point to it firmly. He pulls the throwing star downward. A light scratch is the result. Tiny flakes of glass fall to the floor. He sneaks a look at his captors, but they're still enrapt in the Cortex and Juno. He scratches at the glass again, digging deeper. As he suspected, the glass is kimberlite, one of the hardest known substances in the world. But, like the glass, his throwing stars are made from another of the hardest known substances.

Amantium. Nearly indestructible itself.

He scratches at the glass, again and again. The gouge gets a little deeper. He keeps at it, now making new scratches perpendicular to the first. He makes more and more, working furiously until there's a large star shaped pattern gouged into the surface of the glass half an inch deep. He puts pressure at the very center of the scratches, feeling the sharp edges of the grooves. He pockets his throwing star and steps back from the glass, retaking the Omnite stance. He lashes out, striking at the center with a lethally placed kick.

Nothing happens.

He tries again.

Nothing.

Then again.

Nothing.

"What are you doing?" Pilcrow complains from his corner, head still hanging low.

"Trying," Altair retorts, kicking at the glass yet again. "You should try it some time." He huffs. "You're ten times as strong as I am. Why don't you give it a go?"

Pilcrow just laughs, not moving.

Altair shakes his head and returns to the glass.

Outside, something’s happening.

Juno’s awake!

And she's just spit in Jude's face!

Altair laughs, feeling undeniable affection for the girl with the fiery red hair–a feeling that’s been growing stronger and stronger of late.

You care about her, Navani's voice floats to him from memory. You really care about her, don't you?

"I can't. I'm not supposed to," Altair whispers to himself. "An Assassin shall not know anger, nor hatred, nor love. Remember?"

The Assassins no longer exist, Altair, Navani's memory tells him. We are the only two left on this planet...

Altair shakes his head, but he knows that she's right.

Outside the box, Ursa is pointing in his direction. Juno's eyes find him, her expression betraying deep worry and anxiety. "It's going to be okay," he says aloud, mouthing the words slowly and deliberately. Juno shakes her head, becoming adamant. He sees her arguing with her Father, with Ursa. Jude watches nearby expectantly. 

Bellowing in frustration, Altair kicks at the wall again.

"Will you stop that!" Pilcrow whines from his corner. "I told you it's no use!"

Altair sneers at the mutant. "What happened to you?" he asks. "You were once the most formidable adversary I ever faced! Now... You're not even worth the oxygen that's keeping us alive in here! I don't know why Jonathan Quinn just didn't kill you and get it over with!"

"I wish he had," Pilcrow mumbles, shaking his downtrodden head. "Then at least I wouldn't have to feel anything. Death would be preferable to this." Pilcrow shudders and Altair realizes that the big lug is actually crying. "I have nothing to live for. Ever since Tien was taken from me..."

Altair hesitates, sure he had just misheard.

"Did you just say Tien?" he asks.

"Yeah," Pilcrow confirms. "What of it? He was my son."

"You're…son?"

Altair suddenly feels as if a massive piece of a puzzle has just snapped into place. He'd always known that Pilcrow's motivation against Jonathan Quinn was the kidnapping of his son, but Tien? That nice little mutant boy that Juno had had a crush on?

Could it be the same Tien?

Altair literally leaps over toward Pilcrow, hunkering on his knees next to the sulking brute. "What happened to him?" he asks, trying to be tactful.

Pilcrow finally lifts his head, eyes glazed with tears. "You know what happened!" He growls, baring his needle-like teeth. "Jonathan Quinn kidnapped him and a bunch of other boys so that they could do experiments on them! It took me years to find out who did it! By that time, Tien was long gone!"

"Dead?" Altair asks, prodding to see what Pilcrow actually knows.

Pilcrow shakes his head. "I never found out. Not for sure. But he has to be! I've searched all the labs associated with the Quinns, and never found any trace of him. He has to be dead."

Altair hesitates. He has to tread very carefully here. "Pilcrow," he says, "I want you to listen to me carefully. Your son, Tien, he was alive up until about a month ago. He'd been living at a facility out in the Grasslands, just beyond the Southern Cities. There were other boys there too. One was called Dura. Another was Jurid. Do those names ring any–"

Pilcrow springs to his feet without warning, grabbing Altair by the throat and slamming him up against the wall of the box with tremendous force.

"You better not be lying to me, Assassin!" Pilcrow snarls. Altair chokes, his feet kicking helplessly against the glass. "Those names belong to other boys who were taken at the same time as Tien!"

"I lie to you not!" Altair manages to croak out. "They still live at the facility out in the Grasslands! All of them! Tien was with them up until a month ago. Until something happened. The Children of Mutanity found the place."

Pilcrow lowers Altair but keeps his massive hand loosely clasped about his throat. "What happened to Tien?" he snarls.

"They killed him," Altair coughs. "The boys managed to put up a fight, and they won, but Tien was killed in the fray. I'm sorry. I–"

"Who?" Pilcrow demands. "Who killed him!" 

Altair nods his head straight backwards. "He's in the very same room we are, Pilcrow," he answers truthfully. "Jude. The young man who brought me and my friends here. He was indoctrinated by the Children and led them on a chase around the world after Juno. They wanted the last human. There was a standoff in the Grasslands. Juno had feelings for Tien. Jude killed him out of spite."

Altair doesn't know if that last part is the actual truth–he'd been unconscious for the whole thing, after all–but it’s what Pilcrow will want to hear. 

The mutant releases him, snarling in rage. "Jude," he whispers. And with that, Pilcrow backs himself against the far wall of the glass box, lowering his shoulder as if getting ready to pounce.

Which he does.

He hits the glass dead center where Altair had scratched it. The box rocks up for a moment then slams back down. A spider’s web of cracks bursts forth from the point of impact. Outside the box, all eyes are now on Pilcrow. Jonathan Quinn looks terrified. Altair sneers at him deservedly. Pilcrow backs up again, his shoulder leaking blue fluid where the glass had sliced it a little.

It should only take one more.

Pilcrow crouches right down now, coiling his body like a spring and...

CRRRAAACCCKKK!

The resultant sound is deafening, a hole roughly the size of Altair's head bursting open. 

"NO!" he hears Jonathan Quinn’s terrified voice cry.

Pilcrow pounds at the glass around the opening, pushing it outward. Jonathan Quinn opens fire. Altair hits the floor as bullets spray in their direction, at least one or two strike Pilcrow, the others hitting and weakening the glass even more. Pilcrow bellows in rage and swings at the glass a final time, breaking through completely, bounding over toward Jonathan Quinn on four limbs like a crazed snow bear. Quinn is attempting to reload his shooter but it’s too late. Pilcrow grabs him by the neck and picks him bodily from the ground, closing his hand as he does so, squeezing the man's neck until it pops and lops sickly sideways. Pilcrow releases him, the corpse falling to the ground like a ragdoll, unleashing a cry of hellish fury. 

But he's not done. 

Pilcrow whirls and spots Jude, standing defiantly in front of Juno.

Is he trying to protect her?

Pilcrow stomps toward him.

"No! Don't!" Ursa suddenly cries, foolishly stepping between the man and the mutant. Pilcrow snarls and simply swats the old woman aside, his obsidian claws raking her flesh. She falls to the ground in a heap, blood pooling from wounds in her chest. 

Jude breaks after that.

He bolts for the nearest exit, taking only a half dozen steps before Pilcrow is on him, lifting him in the air by the neck just as he had Jonathan Quinn.

"Did you kill Tien?" Pilcrow demands, pulling Jude close to his face, peeling his lips back to reveal his monstrously needle-like teeth. 

"No!" Jude cries. "I don't even... Who's Tien?"

"He's the boy you shot and killed in the Grasslands, Jude," a new voice comes in. Juno. "The boy who killed Blaine, your leader, remember?" Juno grins.

Pilcrow never takes his eyes off of Jude. "Tien killed your leader?" he asks, voice no more than a grumble. 

Jude struggles for breath. "Yes!" he manages to croak. "Blaine was the leader of the Children of Mutanity. I was... I was brainwashed by him! Tien killed him and I had no choice in the matter. No free will. I had to–"

"Tien was my son," Pilcrow snarls.

Jude's eyes grow wide with horror. "Oh hells," he says.

And with that, Pilcrow opens his mouth and chomps down on Jude's head.

 

 

 

 

64.

 

"Are you alright?" he asks her.

Her face is pale, a mask of horror.

She's in shock, Altair realizes.

"Hey! Juno!" he shakes her shoulder, and she finally blinks her eyes, as if seeing him for the first time.

"They're all dead," Juno admonishes. "My Father, my Mother, Jude, Traylor. They're all..." She bursts into tears.

Altair looks around briefly at the three slumped bodies on the floor. Juno's entire family.

Almost.

"We haven't found Traylor yet," he soothes her. "We're going to get you out of here and find him, alright?" Juno shakes her head, struggling against the bonds of the Cortex, still holding her in a wide X position. Altair reaches up, searching for a way to release the cuffs that hold her wrists in place. But he can't find any.

"Hold on," he says, turning away for a moment. "I'm gonna find a way to get you out of here." He scans the dark room and sees what he's looking for on a far wall.

A fire axe.

"I'll chop this thing to pieces if I have to," he says. He jogs over to the wall, opens the case containing the axe, then turns back and–

Pilcrow is standing in front of the Cortex, staring directly at Juno.

"All this suffering," he says, shaking his head, "and for what? Tien is dead. The man who killed him is dead. Were you there when he died, Juno?"

Altair approaches the unstable mutant cautiously, axe at the ready.

"I was," Juno answers calmly from the Cortex. "We... We were friends. I cared for him deeply. Despite the terrible things he went through, he was a remarkable young man."

"Young man?" Pilcrow echoes, as if confused. "Is that how you thought of him? As a fellow human?"

"I guess I did," Juno nods.

"If only the rest of humanity had your good nature, Juno Quinn," Pilcrow replies. "We'd all be better off. We'd consider ourselves equals instead of constantly judging one another according to our differences." He sighs. "But that will never happen. It's a sad thing, but it's true." He finally pulls his gaze away from Juno, letting it fall on the machine behind her.

The Cortex.

"No, the only way to truly achieve harmony again is to level the playing field. I tried to do that, by making everyone a mutant. But it didn't work. The True Body Plan was too ingrained in our collective consciousness to disallow us to accept what we've already been conditioned to see as normal. I should have done the opposite. I should have seen that the only way to save this world was to make everyone normal." He steps over to the Cortex. "I will right that wrong now. No Father will have to suffer what I have again. All men shall be created equal once more."

He reaches for the keypad on the machine.

"Wait!" Juno cries, realizing what the mutant is doing.

"What are you doing, Pilcrow?" Altair snaps, having snuck lithely behind the mutant during his odd monologue. He raises the fire axe above his head.

Pilcrow doesn't turn around. "Righting a wrong," he answers.

"I can't let you do that," Altair says. "Not yet. We can find another way. A way that doesn't involve killing Juno. She saved your life, gods damn it!"

"There is no other way," Pilcrow grumbles, still typing at the keypad.

"Then I have to stop you," Altair says. He swings the axe for Pilcrow's back...

But it never reaches its target.

Still staring at the Cortex, Pilcrow shoots one beefy arm straight backward, catching the axe at the shaft midswing. With a twist of his wrist the weapon is torn from Altair's grasp, snapped in two. 

Altair's hopes fall to the floor with it.

"I'm sorry," Pilcrow says, finally stepping away from the machine. "I know you love her."

The Cortex starts to whir audibly.

"No!" Altair cries, rushing to the front of the machine where Juno is still held helplessly. She meets his eyes, her gaze calm, serene even.

"It's alright," she tells him. "This is for the greater good, Altair. It has to happen. You know that."

"No, Juno," Altair shakes his head. "There has to be another way! I... I love you!"

"I know," Juno says with a smile. She leans her head forward. "I love you too."

Altair bursts into tears–for the first time in decades–and he steps forward, pulling himself into Juno and meeting her lips with his. He closes his eyes as a burning flash of white light sears through the room.

Then, seconds later, he feels her kiss dying beneath him.

"No!" he bellows. "Juno!" He steps away. She looks peaceful, her eyes closed, her lips locked in a permanent smile.

It's all over.

Pilcrow activated the Cortex.

"Something's not right," Pilcrow suddenly says from behind him.

Altair tears his eyes from Juno.

Pilcrow is standing there, hands running over his own body as if searching for something.

"The... The pulse. It worked but... I'm still a mutant."

Altair gasps, reaching up to his own face. He can still feel the alien bumps and lumps of that virulent rash on his cheeks and the cluster of tumors on his forehead.

"The Cortex didn't work," Altair says, his despair growing exponentially. "Juno died for nothing!"

"No," a new voice comes in, weak but familiar. "That...is not Juno," the voice says.

Altair whirls on the spot.

Ursa is on her back on the ground, lying in a pool of her own blood, breath coming in deep, ragged gasps. She's pointing at something.

"There," she says. "Go there." Her arm drops from weakness but she retains consciousness.

"Ursa," Altair says, "what are you–"

"There," she says again.

Altair glances across the room.

There's a door on the far side, semi-cloaked in darkness, soft light pouring from beneath it. Reluctantly, Altair forces himself away from Juno, stalking slowly toward that door. Pilcrow watches him but doesn't follow. Altair reaches the door, grasping for the handle hesitantly.

It doesn't budge.

Locked.

He smiles though.

Sitting in the lock itself is a key. He reaches up to it, twisting it open, popping the door wide.

What he sees beyond defies all the logic in his open mind.

 

 

 

 

65.

 

I open my eyes.

Traylor's banging on the glass again.

"I think someone's coming!" he says.

The words are muffled to me, but I can still make them out. I nod–the only way I can communicate from within my prison. My mouth is stopped up by a large breathing apparatus. The rest of my body is free, floating lazily in a weird, jelly-like substance. The breather is punched into the flesh of my inner cheeks, the only discomfort I feel. The needles periodically pull fluid from me. DNA, I guess. The DNA runs through tubes along my breather, leading out of my suspension tank into another, flatter tank on the floor in front of me. 

Another clone is growing there already.

I can't believe how fast the process is! 

Less than an hour, as best I can guess.

There's a line of bodies outside the tank, covered on the floor. Traylor’s already showed them to me. 

Other clones.

Some of them are his, some of them are mine.

His never worked inside the Cortex. 

We only share 99% DNA compatibility, remember? 

Ursa explained it all to me when I woke up here, after Jude knocked us out and kidnapped us.

When my Father and Mother built the Cortex, they knew they had a problem. The machine needed a source of pure, unmutated DNA. The purest. I was already in Ursa's womb at the time, and they began modifying me in vitro. I was born the most perfect human being there ever was. But that only solved half their problem. The other, was that the Cortex would kill me. Of course, by that time, my parents were in love with me. They couldn't kill me, even if it meant saving the human race. They had to find another way to rid the world of mutations.

That's when they started dabbling in cloning. 

Their first attempt resulted in Traylor.

They used my DNA to create an embryo and inserted it into Ursa's womb. But something happened in utero. They couldn't control the hormones in Ursa's body, and the embryo spontaneously changed sex, as Ursa explained. Their second nearly perfect child was born. Traylor only had 99% of my DNA.

The Cortex requires 100.

They needed to find a new method of cloning, outside the womb. They came up with the tank I find myself floating in right now, intending to use it to clone me directly. Of course, they'd tested it on a few other subjects first, Everwinter mutants like Tien, mostly, and eventually perfected the method. They could create a perfect, fully grown clone in less than an hour, with all the traits and memories of the subject.

And then the riots hit.

The residents of Everwinter learned about the kidnappings and unwilling test subjects at the lab, and they weren't happy about it. Some of Ursa's fellow scientists were murdered in the streets. The facility had to be abandoned before I could be brought in and cloned.

You know the rest.

They buried the place under snow, Altair and his fellow Assassins were tasked by my Father to guard the place, Pilcrow and his cronies got their hands on Forerunner technology and blasted their way in.

Poor Altair.

He was as much a pawn of my parents as I was.

"Somebody's opening the door!" Traylor calls to me through the glass tube. I nod my head backward, indicating that he should hide behind the cloning machine.

He does.

The door opens.

I nearly scream the breather out of my mouth.

It's Altair!

Traylor sees him too, rushing over, embracing the Assassin in a full on hug. Altair smiles, ruffling my little brother's hair. They're talking, but they're too far away for me to make it out. Traylor points at the tank and Altair's face goes pale. He rushes over, concerned.

"Are you okay?" he mouths at me.

I nod that I am.

In fact, seeing Altair, I've never been more okay in my life.

What happened out there?

Did Altair stop my Father? Did he kill him?

Where's Ursa? And Jude?

There was a bright flash of light out there just a little while ago. We saw it under the door. Did the Cortex go off?

What happened to my clone?

"I'm gonna get you out of there," Altair calls to me. I study his face, seeing that it's still covered with that rash and tumors.

If the Cortex did go off, it didn't work.

I nod at him again.

Altair dashes out of the room, returning moments later with a hulking behemoth.

An Everwinter mutant.

Pilcrow.

My heart hammers in fear, but Altair appears to be friendly toward the monster. He points at my tank and Pilcrow nods. He stomps over to me, stepping in behind my tank.

"Get ready," I hear Pilcrow say.

I shake my head. Oh hells...

Pilcrow pushes the tank over.

It doesn't shatter but the top pops off, sending the suspension fluid–and me along with it–rushing across the floor in a flood. The breather is ripped from my mouth and I scream in pain and terror. 

But I can breathe.

Altair is at my side in seconds, helping me to sit up. I cough and spit, suspension fluid dripping off my face and into my mouth. "You alright?" Altair asks, smiling at me, slapping my back as I choke.

"What the bloody hells was that?" I ask, lobbing a massive glob of fluid in Altair's direction. He deftly ducks it and laughs at me.

"Sorry," he says. "Seemed like the quickest way."

I laugh too. "Well, it was," I reply.

 

 

 

 

 

66.

 

"I take it it didn't work," I say, staring at my dead clone, still hanging like a scarecrow inside the Cortex. I've cleaned most of the suspension fluid off my body and can walk pretty well on my own now.

"No, it didn't," Altair replies, scowling at Pilcrow, standing on the other side of the Evernight Skytower, staring off into space.

"I wonder why," I ask. "This clone is perfect. It's me to a T." We stare at my mirror image for a silent moment. Even Traylor is quiet for once.

"Because she's not you," a familiar voice echoes up from somewhere on the floor.

Stunned, I moved around the back of the Cortex to find Ursa, bleeding but alive, propped up against the machine. I'd already seen the corpses of my Father and Jude, moved into another room already, but one look was all I'd needed.

I hate both of them.

"In the name of the gods, Ursa!" I say, going to my knees next to my Mother. "How are you still alive?"

"I've been wondering that myself," she says with a weak smile. She's got her tunic wrapped around her chest as a makeshift tourniquet. "I'll survive. I've been through worse."

"Tell me about it," I reply.

"I'm so sorry, Juno," Ursa says, "for everything. You should never have had to go through all this."

I sigh. "I know, Ursa. I know. I'm sorry too." Ursa nods. "I don't blame you for all of this. Some of it, yeah, but not all. Father was the real monster here." Ursa nods weakly again.

An awkward silence descends.

"So, what now?" I ask. "The Cortex didn't work. Why?"

"Because there's something special about you, Juno," Ursa explains. "Something that cannot be replicated or duplicated as much as we tried. As much as the cumpewters said we'd perfectly copied your DNA down to the gene, there's just something about you that the Cortex needs to create its mutation curing pulse."

"Like a soul?" I ask, dumbfounded.

Ursa shrugs. "I really don't know."

"I see," I say, hesitating. "And what if I climbed into that machine right now? What would happen?"

"Juno, no!" Traylor objects. Altair nods his vehement agreement next to my brother.

"It's just a question," I say, feigning indignance.

"You would likely save every life on this planet," Ursa replies. "Mutant and human alike. We would all be cured." 

"Right," I say. "And what would happen to me? Would I die?"

Ursa drops her gaze. "I don't know," she replies. "I really don't. The clones never survived. But you're special, Juno. There's a chance–"

"I'll take it," I say, cutting her off.

"Juno!" Traylor whines again.

I turn to my little brother, smiling at him motherly. I lean down and pull him into a deep embrace. "I have to, buddy," I say. "You know what will happen if I don't. The human race is doomed. Everyone will die of cancer, and those that don't won't be able to breed to replenish our numbers." I sigh. "And you and I will be the only ones left to watch it happen. We'll be alone, Traylor. Just you and me. You know I have to do this."

Traylor nods, sobbing into my shoulder. "I know," he says. “But that doesn’t mean I have to like it.” He pulls away from me, giving me a peck on the cheek. "I love you," he says. "You are my sister, but I looked up to you like a mother." Ursa winces at that.

"I love you too, little buddy," I say, and we leave it at that.

I turn to Ursa, putting a hand on her shoulder. "Take care, Mother. You'll have to run this thing once I'm inside." Ursa nods, then gets on her knees, struggling to her feet. "I love you, Juno," she says. "I never stopped. I hope you know that."

"I do," I reply, but I don't return the sentiment. I don't hate Ursa, but I don't love her either. I’m indifferent. She’s got a lot of mistakes to make up for, and she's not my Mother, despite the fact I’d just called her that. Hopefully, she can do right by Traylor.

I turn to face Altair, but he's on the other side of the machine already, releasing the corpse of my clone from its bonds as Ursa instructs him. I walk around to him. "You okay with this?" I ask, seeing he's reverted to the old Altair, cold and emotionless.

"Would it matter if I wasn't?" he asks. "Like you said, you have no choice."

"Don't be like that," I say, grabbing him by the hand. "I care about you, Altair. A lot."

He sighs, finally meeting my gaze. "I care about you too," he says. "A lot." He adds a smile.

I pull him into a hug. "Thank you," I whisper in his ear. "For everything. You saved me in more ways than you'll ever know."

He nods. "You too.” He pulls away from me. "Are you ready?"

"No,” I say, and I kiss him, warm and soft and slow and all too brief. I break it off. “Now I am,” I say. He smiles at me. “See you on the other side." I step into the Cortex, putting my hands and feet into position. "Okay, Ursa. Do it!"

I hear Ursa grumble something behind me, but she does as commanded, tapping on the keyboard on the machine. My hands and feet lock in place, not exactly comfortable. A peculiar sensation tingles at my wrists and ankles, coursing slowly throughout my entire body. My claustrophobia ramps up, but I ignore it.

Now's not the time.

Altair and Traylor stand before me; the two most important men in my life.

"I love you," I say, my eyes locked on Altair.

"I know," Altair returns with a smirk.

It's the last image I'll have of him.

Seconds later, the strange tingling in my body is replaced by searing pain. I scream, the world seeming to get brighter and brighter. I look down and see that it's me.

I'm glowing.

My body is the source of all light in the world.

I am the sun.

I hold it in, as long as I possibly dare.

It burns. It sears.

And then I let it out.

And it is good.

 

 

 

 

67.

 

"Juno? Hey, Juno! Wake up!"

I open my eyes.

Before me is the familiar face of my brother, all smiles, staring down at me like I'm the greatest hero he's ever seen. I'm on my back, staring up at the faux night sky of the Evernight Skytower. There's something soft under me.

Blankets, I think.

"What... What happened?" I ask. "Did it work?"

Traylor smiles. "See for yourself.” He pulls away from me.

A man stands in his place.

Handsome, rugged, yet deadly serious.

Altair.

The rash on his face is gone!

There's just a few pock marks now–former tumors–small holes already healing over. I bolt to a sitting position, stunned.

"How long have I been out?" I ask, stunned.

"Almost a week," Altair replies casually. "Ursa said the Cortex put you into a coma. That's how you survived! Your brain cut your consciousness off from the pulse!"

"What?" I say, totally confused. I don't understand half of what he'd just said.

"You saved the world," a new voice tells me. Ursa's face hovers into view, and it takes me a second to recognize her.

She's beautiful.

She looks just like me–excepting the scars and half-healed wounds, of course. Even beaten as she is though, the beauty beneath still shines through. 

"Mother!" I say, smiling at her. "We saved the world! I can't believe it! I couldn't have done it without you!" 

Tears escape Ursa's eyes as she ducks down to hug me.

I return the embrace. 

"Juno," Ursa whispers, holding me tight.

Looking over Ursa's shoulder, I see what's left of the Cortex.

The machine has been dismantled, a man working on it, taking it apart piece by piece. He's very large and very muscular, with short white hair shaved into double mohawks at the sides. He turns toward us, hearing our conversation.

"Pilcrow?" I gasp, stunned.

"Hello, Juno," the man–Pilcrow–replies. "You did it."

There's something funny about the way he talks. He comes over and holds out a hand to me, as if in greeting. Reluctantly, I take it. He pulls me to my feet, taking me by surprise, hugging me tight.

"Thank you," he says. "The world is on a level playing field once more. No father shall suffer at the hands of the True Body Plan again." I look into his mouth and see that the reason he's talking so funny is that he has no teeth! The needle-like spikes he used to have are gone. In their place, small white nubs are coming in.

He's growing human teeth!

He smiles at me awkwardly. "They fell out when the pulse hit me," he explains, "along with all the hair on my body. Well, excepting my head, of course."

"You're... You're very handsome," I find myself saying with a blush.

I hear Altair grunt behind us.

I turn to address all of my friends.

"Are you sure the machine worked for the whole world?" I ask. "Have you guys left here since it happened?"

"I have," Pilcrow chimes in. "Everwinter is in shock, to be sure, but there's naught but humans out there now. Word has spread from Eversummer too. They say that the gods have forgiven us the Final Judgment, or some such nonsense. The True Body Plan is totally moot now. There's still a lot of confusion but, peace reigns, Juno."

"I can't believe it!" I say. I turn to Ursa. "Why didn't I die?"

My Mother shrugs. "Call it the will of the gods," she replies. I scowl at that and she laughs. "I told you you were special, Juno."

"No," I say. "I'm not. I'm just a regular human. Just like the rest of you. I'm no longer the last human."

"You never were!" Traylor protests, his face indignant. "Why does everyone seem to forget that?"

I smile at my little brother. "Quit whining, Traylor," I say.

 

 

 

 

EPILOGUE: THE SATELLITE

 

 

"I need to show you something," Altair says to me.

"Sure," I say, smiling up at him. I give him a peck on the cheek and he takes me by the hand. We're alone, for once, in the main gallery of the Evernight Skytower. Ursa, Traylor, and Pilcrow have gone off to start dismantling the cloning machine. Above us, the false stars of night twinkle.

As we walk, I say, "I learned about the stars in school, but I've never seen a real one. It's always so cloudy in Everwinter. Is there anywhere we can go that we can see them for real?"

Altair grins. "Yeah, there is. Closer to the Fringes where it doesn't snow so much but the sun is below the horizon."

"Will you show me someday?"

"Absolutely," he replies, "but there's something else I have to show you first."

He leads me over to a display in the gallery.

It's a glass case, inside of which is a large, round metal object with all sorts of crazy protrusions coming off of it.

A sign on the display reads: FORERUNNER SATELLITE

"Satellite?" I ask. "What does that mean?" I've never heard the word before.

"It's a type of craft," Altair explains. "A spacecraft, specifically."

"Spacecraft?" I echo. "Like the space station they talk about in the Forerunner Archives?" I stare at the object in the case. "This thing seems kinda small to be a craft. It's no bigger than a horse!"

"It's an unmanned object," Altair tells me. "For sending signals back and forth."

"Cool," I say. "But how do you know that? And why are you showing it to me?"

Altair smiles.

He pulls one of his trusty throwing stars from his tunic jacket and holds it with one point drawn outward. Then his hand becomes a blur, striking outward at the glass. It shatters instantly.

I yelp in surprise and jump backward.

"What'd you do that for?" I ask.

Altair doesn't reply. Instead, he steps inside the case, coming up beside the satellite. He finds a panel on its round surface and pops it open. Inside is a messy jumble of wires, cables, and other stuff I know nothing about. He fiddles around with a few for a moment then, incredibly, a red light begins to blink intermittently. Altair steps away from the craft.

"How'd you know how to do that?" I ask. "This is Forerunner tech!"

"My people built it," Altair says, without preamble.

I must have misheard him.

"Come again?" I say, shaking my head.

"I just sent a signal back to my home, Juno." He hesitates. "It's time I told you the truth of who I am, of where I come from. My people will be returning to this planet very soon."

"Your people?" I echo, shell shocked. "Altair, you're scaring me. Who are you?"

Altair takes me by both hands, staring me deep in the eyes. "I'm a Forerunner, Juno," he says.

 

 

THE END OF

EVERWINTER: THE FORERUNNER ARCHIVES

☯

 

 

 

 

About the Author

J. Rock lives in Thunder Bay, Ontario, Canada, and works in

the Parks & Recreation department. Other than writing and

reading, J. enjoys camping, fishing, mountain biking, and

plays bass guitar in a local alternative band. He is currently at

work on the sequel to Everwinter: The Forerunner Archives.

 

              Contact J. Rock: dinosauria@hotmail.ca

Dinosauria on the web: http://dinosaurianovels.webs.com/

 

 

eBooks by J. Rock, available at all major online retailers:

 

Everwinter: The Forerunner Archives

 

Dinosauria Volume I

Part I: A Memory of Time

Part II: Garden

Part III: Twin City Crossroads

Part IV: Nuevogato

 

Dinosauria Volume II

Part V: This Is War

Part VI: Purple

Part VII: Supermassive Black Hole

Part VIII: The Harrowing

 

Dinosauria Volume III

Part IX: The Hunt for the Nuevogato

Part X: The Twisted Combination

Part XI: A Brief History of Dinosauria

Part XII: Worthy Adversary

 

Dinosauria: The Complete Volumes I, II, & III

 

The Dinosauria Cycle (Volumes I-III)

 

The Death Clock - a short story

 

Ex Machina - a short story

 

Upcoming Works (working titles):

Untitled Forerunner Archives Sequel (2015)

In Other Worlds (2016)

 

 

Contact J. Rock: dinosauria@hotmail.ca