Jàden’s shoulder screamed in agony each time his horse bounced too hard or leapt over a fallen log. She didn’t know where he was taking her or how long they traveled, only that it was away from her hypersleep pod and all those dead people.
Away from Frank.
Go back to the beginning. I’m coming for you. She clung to Kale’s final words as she lost all awareness of her surroundings or any movement. She didn’t need to sleep anymore, but she couldn’t stay awake.
“Don’t leave me,” she muttered, a trace of incense in the air, but something wedged her mouth open.
She spit out the stick and screamed as sharp pain sliced into her shoulder. Bright light flickered in a dozen lanterns hanging from wooden beams.
Frank found me.
A red-haired woman with freckles on her nose stepped into the light, a bloody dagger clutched in her hand.
Panic clutched Jàden’s chest, and she knocked the blade out of the woman’s hand. “Stay away from me.”
She rolled off the table and fell to her knees, fingers brushing soft earth as she searched for a door. Wood shelves lined with herbs and small bowls circled a central table. Two years in a cage of steel and plexiglass, the earthy smells and woven hangings didn’t spark any recognition.
Until a new stranger crouched in front of her, a line symbol tattooed across his forehead and hair shaved on the sides. He gestured to her shoulder, but she dug into the dirt.
He had a mohawk, just like Frank.
“I won’t go back!” Jàden threw dirt in his face and scrambled backward, sharp agony ripping through her shoulder when she put weight on her arm. Bruised skin lay sliced open with half the arrow still embedded, blood streaking down the black lines of her birthmark, a zankata in flight engulfed by flames.
Find your zankata. Kale’s voice was a mere whisper through the blinding pain.
She grabbed the bloodied arrow shaft. The reverse points lay exposed, something that might have torn her open if she’d tried to pull it out earlier. Jàden slid the last bit of the arrow free and tossed it at the tattooed man. Blood streaked down her arm as she bit back a cry of agony.
The new stranger uttered a few words and pointed to the injury.
No, she wouldn’t let him cut her again. Scrambling to her feet, Jàden yanked the thin blanket from the bed and pressed it against her shoulder to stop the bleeding.
Both the new stranger and the woman put their hands up as if to calm her down. The same gesture the lab doctors gave her each examination.
As if she were the wild animal.
Jàden leaned against a hanging cloth between the shelves to be as far from them as she could and stumbled through the makeshift door onto frost-bound earth.
Cold air bit into her bare skin as she gazed across a central plaza. Circular huts with sloping roofs clustered beneath giant oaks, their branches twisting in a dozen directions to form a sheltering barrier.
Men and women walked along the plaza carrying trays of food, blankets, or small pots.
White stone arcs jutted out behind the huts, many of them cracked and crumbling. The glistening telen stone, forged by Hàlon’s engineers and strong enough to withstand millennia, jutted to jagged points, cracked at their midspan as if something ripped them apart.
Telen was no simple stone, forged and compacted until it was tougher than steel. Something only a high-powered bomb could destroy. All she needed was a single firemark to power any remnants of this base that might still be intact.
This had to be a hallucination or maybe some kind of holodeck.
“Herana.” A deep male voice made her jump, and Jàden edged away from the hut. The bearded stranger whose energy flowed through her tossed aside a cigarette. A horse bridle over his shoulder, he held up his hands in surrender and cautiously stepped toward her. His strength wove through her veins alongside the Flame, breathing his essence through her very core.
Not alone, it seemed to whisper.
The tattooed man stepped out of the hut and ran fingers through his shaggy hair, the red-haired woman beside him. Both shared a concerned glance as blood dripped down Jàden’s arm.
“You stay away from me.” She stumbled into the central area, keeping the clutched blanket over her bare chest.
Groups of people stared back at her. Many of them made a gesture with their hands she didn’t understand then dropped to their knees.
One woman hummed a low melody, others picking up the tune. Something about the song itched at a familiarity from her childhood, at a memory of her grandmother singing to the Guardians as she lit small incense sticks.
This had to be a trick. Everything was white, from the thin layer of snow on the hut roofs to the frost on the orange oak leaves to the strips of white fur on everyone’s clothing. Why did everything have to be white?
Two years under the glare of fluorescents and still Frank taunted her. Maybe she really was still in her cage. “Let me out of here, Frank!”
Support creative writers by reading their stories on Royal Road, not stolen versions.
The strangers moved to either side of her, the one with the mohawk keeping his distance.
“Herana, sanda le.” Her protector closed the gap between them.
His voice tempered to a soft calm as if soothing an anxious horse, and he laid a hand on each of her cheeks. “Níra.”
Gentle yet strong, his warmth bled into her skin. Jàden desperately wanted to believe this wasn’t a cage, that this man was real and would keep her out of Frank’s clutches. “Please. I don’t want to go back.”
“Sanda le.” He caressed her cheek.
She frowned at his strange words, so different from the smooth flow of Hàlon’s common speech.
Yet, one word stood out: sanda.
“Safe,” she whispered. As the icy air blew across her neck, she recalled the red numbers on her pod: 3,793 years.
Everything had changed.
She scanned the villagers, dressed in thick clothing lined with fur and leather. They weren’t attacking her, and none of them wore a Guild patch or any emblem of office.
This wasn’t an illusion or a cage. This was life.
“Where’s Frank?”
Maybe this stranger knew something, but he held no recognition of the name in his eyes.
As her shoulder throbbed, she leaned into the stranger and buried her head in his chest. His warmth eased her terror as he lifted her into his arms and walked her back to the small hut.
“Please don’t let them cut me.” But as she glanced at her injury, it became evident why the woman held a bloodied dagger. She’d been cutting Jàden open to remove the arrow.
Incense twisted to a gentle blend of mountain pine and warm air as he set her on the table. Crackling flames heated the room from a small hearth, and Jàden leaned against her protector’s shoulder. A gentle voice and warm touch were far better companions than a sea of endless white fluorescents.
This time, she bit back her pain as the red-haired woman stitched the wound with an efficient hand. As the last remnants of blood were wiped away and her arm bound in a sling, her stomach growled. Jàden couldn’t recall the last time she’d eaten anything resembling food.
Kale was the only thing that mattered now, and she wouldn’t get far without a bite to eat and warm clothes.
Her protector wrapped a thin blanket around her shoulders, then pressed something warm into her hand as if reading her thoughts. “Borda.”
Jàden uncurled her fingers, poking at the cooked flesh with bones poking out of it. She touched an orange beak then lifted the creature to her nose and sniffed. Her stomach turned at the dry, oily scent of whatever bird it had once been.
For two years, Frank’s lab technicians only gave her a daily ration bar—barely enough to keep her alive. She’d always preferred the taste of real fruits and vegetables from her grandmother’s garden, but after so long with only synthetic meals, her body might reject anything else.
If she wanted to be strong enough to find Kale, she couldn’t be picky.
Jàden tugged away a small strip, touching it against her tongue. The dry meat and strong flavor triggered her gag reflex. She winced and pushed the fire-cooked flesh into her mouth.
The bearded stranger laid a bowl of water into her hand as the red-haired healer retreated from the hut. The cool liquid soothed Jàden’s throat as she sipped and handed it back, but he set it down beside her. He gestured something silent to his companion.
Jàden eyed the man with the tattoo across his forehead. He didn’t look anything like Frank now that she studied him. His face was much younger and his body lean. Only the color and cut of his hair held any similarity.
But she still didn’t trust him.
The tattooed man gestured something back that seemed to satisfy her protector then disappeared out the cloth door.
“Don’t let him come back.” She slid another piece of meat onto her tongue, chewing the rubbery texture and crinkling her nose as wind blew fierce against the hut.
The bearded man pointed to his chest. “Jon.”
He touched her hand. “Herana.”
Jàden furrowed her brow then understood. His name.
“Jon,” she whispered, rolling her tongue around the sound. Her frown deepened at the other word. She grabbed his hand and pulled it to her cheek. “Jàden.”
The moment his warmth touched her, Jàden’s chest tightened. Desperation pulled at her senses, the need for human interaction blanketing her desperation for Kale. She should have pushed Jon away, but his thumb traced the curve of her cheek, deepening the lonely ache in her chest.
Or maybe it was the food.
Her insides twisted, cramping. She shoved the half-eaten animal into his hand and dropped off the table. Grabbing a small bucket, she heaved up the few small bites she’d eaten, the strain shooting pain to her injury.
Two years with nothing but ration bars and her stomach couldn’t take anything else. Her insides twisted again. She clenched her jaw to hold the nausea back. She needed strength if she was going to survive long enough to find Kale, which meant she’d have to learn how to eat again.
And she needed to know if Frank was still alive.
Jon crouched beside her. He lifted her chin and put a bowl of water to her lips.
She drank deeply, her throat burning with the animal’s bitter taste. “I haven’t eaten real food in…”
3,973 years.
Jon wrapped a bodice around her chest and snapped the seams closed so she was no longer half naked. His dirty, calloused hands brushed her side, a gentleness in his touch despite the heavy scars on his knuckles.
Her gaze trailed along his muscular arms before she closed her eyes. So many years alone. Jàden couldn’t bear the weight of the emptiness inside her, so she reached for her only companion left.
Sandaris.
With the circlet gone from her wrist, the moon’s gentle heartbeat echoed alongside hers. She’d forged the connection long ago, at a time of desperation when her power first became more than a small party trick.
Opening her eyes, Jàden unfolded her hand, flecks of light and shadow twisting away from her palm. She could feel Jon’s energy like an intimate embrace. What would Kale think of what she’d done? Forging a forbidden bond without an Enforcer contract.
Jon grabbed her wrist, tracing his thumb across her palm. “Balé?”
Why.
He’d just spoken her language. Or had he? Perhaps the Flame’s bond seamlessly translated the word in her head. Or maybe she was finally listening now that the pain from her injury didn’t overshadow everything else. She scratched behind her ear at an imaginary tickle against her brain. Strange words and meaning melded together as one. “Because I need your help. I have to find Kale. Go back to the beginning.”
And she couldn’t do it alone. Not when she was so broken.
Jon stuck a cigarette between his lips and pulled a block of brushed steel out of his pocket. Blowing on the glass orb, illumination traced outward along thin lines in the casing.
“A lighter.”
Before he could light the tip of his cigarette, Jàden snatched it from his hand and popped the small orb out. The glow faded. Cupping her hands around the firemark, she blew until it illuminated again. Trillions of bioluminescent bacteria flared to life inside the transparent sphere.
Like her, they directly touched the Flame. Creatures of pure biotheric energy used to power starships and all human technology.
“Do you have more?” she asked.
Jon reached into his pocket and tossed her a leather pouch.
Loosening the string, she dumped the contents onto her hand. More than a dozen firemarks—blue and violet, amber and green. She clutched the marble-like orbs. She’d seen the bacteria beds once, long ago, and never wanted to go back.
Each bacteria-filled sphere glowed with her touch. Pushing the memory out of her head, she shoved a blue firemark into the lighter, the glow tracing thin lines of light along the brushed steel.
Power.
It didn’t matter where it came from.
She could go home.