The Futurists are arranged in a perfect formation along the platform. Jinaka stands beside me, hands on his hips, waiting for the last few soldiers to straighten up. His expression terse.

Singavere Station. The last time we came, we were searching for Rai. I was so awestruck – the holograms, the neon-lights, the robots. And not only that – the bustle, the business of it. It was so vibrant, so alive.

Now?

It's a ghost-town. Sweet-wrappers drift across the tiles, a lonely droid sweeping them underneath AI vendors, whose mouths are turned staunchly down. Instead of mist, the platform is full of smoke – a couple of soldiers clear their throats, obviously repressing coughs.

I shiver. Not from cold, it's the opposite of cold. Besides, I'm tucked up in Kass' cloak. No. I'm not cold.

Not on the outside, anyway.

The look on Tanner's face haunts me. The way he watched me be dragged from my hospital bed, kicking and screaming – and it wasn't just him. Dimitrov, Paolera, Hughes – all of them with me in the medical facility. Hughes covered her face, but I still heard her crying. Dimitrov ranted and thrashed, straining on the chains that bound him to his bed.

'DON'T GO WITH THEM, SAMMA. SPIT IN THEIR EYES. MAKE THEM REGRET THEY WERE EVER –,'

But Tanner got to me the most.

'Bring me too,' he pleaded with Lieutenant Charlie. 'I need to protect her. I made an oath – on my honour – to protect her. Please. I won't be any trouble – just let me come with.' But Charlie didn't, of course. I don't think Tanner's honour was of much concern to him.

As Charlie pulled me from the hospital room, another soldier approached. With someone familiar.

'Brie,' I hissed. Like my friends in Squad Three, her wrists clinked from the weight of chains. But I didn't care about that – I'd spotted the quivering ball tucked under her arm, and the thick sheet of fabric slung over her shoulder. A Futurist soldier guided her by the elbow; he didn't look happy about it. Neither, particularly, did she.

A flare of rage flashed through my chest. She tricked us. I glowered at her, daring her to look at me, but she didn't have the guts. She just frowned and turned away.

'We found this one with these.' The Futurist jabbed his head at Brie's possessions, and Charlie scrunched his nose in distaste.

'A broken racer, and a filthy cloak. They're just junk. Chuck them.'

'No,' I burst out. Brie blinked, and Charlie frowned at me in annoyance.

'What?'

'They're not junk. That's Rai's drone and Kass' cloak. They need them. I need them.'

Charlie pursed his lips, exchanging a glance with the other Futurist officer. 'Why should we care about your needs?'

My cheeks flushed. 'Do you want me to help you or not?'

'You don't have a choice,' he flared back. But then, he relented, rolling his eyes. 'Oh whatever. Nick, just give her the damn crap.'

Within seconds, I'd flung Kass' cloak around my shoulders, breathing in its familiar scent of damp earth and fresh hay. Henry shuddered in my arms, letting out mournful string of beeps. I sighed.

'I know, Henry. I miss them too.'

But then Charlie pushed me forwards, leaving my friends and Brie staring at my retreating back. There was no time to waste on anything as foolish as my lonely, breaking heart.

Jinaka activated the Singaverean military within minutes of the initial attack. They began evacuating citizens into underground bunkers, but Jinaka was in no hurry to evacuate himself. He intended to lead the counter-strike.

But this was clearly what the other RESIST squadrons had been training for. I recognised the uniforms I saw on the TV. I'd eaten dinner beside Squad One, played a fierce game of pool with members of Squad Five, and trained with Squad Six loads of times. I'd befriended one of the women who was almost as unfit as me. We'd giggled together, hiding from our captains, seeing who could go the longest without being discovered. Now, she was out there somewhere, destroying homes. Destroying lives.

People can be monsters, but I guess monsters can be people too.

There's only a small team with us now. The rest of Charlie's battalion has been split between the Fighters above the artificial atmosphere, and being positioned strategically around the city. Everyone's just waiting, preparing to strike at Jinaka's command.

'Charlie.' Jinaka nudges me aside, pushes past his bodyguards, and puts a hand on his lieutenant's shoulder. 'All you have to do is ensure Miss Fazil's safety. Stick to the plan, and keep her safe. By tonight, I want all four Elementalists in Zhal's lab. In our custody. Understood?'

Charlie is very white under his mesh helmet. He keeps shaking his head, just like Rai. 'You can count on me, Sir.'

'Of that, I have no doubt.' Jinaka pats him on the back, then beckons to his bodyguards. 'Right, it's time. Samma, you have one hour to try diplomacy. Find your friend, tell him to take you to his commanding officer, and get them to stop this attack.

'If you don't, I will be forced to raise the signal. Our Fighters and soldiers will attack your Resisters – and we will win. You know that. Your forces are no match for our fighter drones.'

I swallow, feeling Henry tremble against my chest.

'Then, I will begin the inquisition. Officers will be dispatched throughout the planet to purge RESIST supporters from every town, city and village. We will cut off their supply chains, cut their rations, hold vaccines back if we have to. . . Until we put an end to this Resister rebellion once and for all. So, you see, Miss Fazil, there's a lot riding on you. Stop this, or we will.'

If FUTURE attacks to defend the city. . . The Resisters will die. ALL Resisters will die. My family. Musa. . .

'You have one hour.'

The army of soldiers troop one by one into the blossoming wormhole. Jinaka takes one last look at me, and to my surprise, holds out his hand. I stare at it, nonplussed.

'Good luck.'

He doesn't seem offended when I don't shake his hand. Just determined, and a little sad.

Then he disappears into the void.

*

Our instructions are simple. Find Musa and stop the attack. But the reality is far from simple.

If we're lucky enough to even find Musa, we then need to find Colonel Văn, who I suspect is leading the attack. Then, somehow, I have to persuade him to stop. Simple, my ass.

Charlie and I run towards the entrance to the station, jumping the ticket barrier and ignoring the droid that offers us a sweet-wrapper with a miserable air. The double-doors at the entrance sense us coming and ping open as we approach.

'Holy. . .'

A waft of mist billows into our faces. It's not normal mist though; I know the mist better than most. I know its texture, its taste even. This is no simple mist. It's mist that has gobbled up all the smoke and ash from battle, using it to grow stronger, more potent; I stagger back, coughing and spluttering. Charlie guides me by the elbow, but seems at a loss for where to go – we can't see a thing through the smut.

'What the hell? How did the mist get in?' I squint, covering my mouth.

'Bloody Resisters broke the artificial atmosphere,' Charlie chokes out. 'It must have seeped through.'

Perhaps the mist realises it's in a forbidden place, somewhere it hasn't been in a long, long time. It rushes and twirls in all directions, barely able to contain its excitement, oozing its way over everything; trying to see is like wading through mud. As we step out of the station, I clench my jaw and concentrate on cleaving a pathway for us, sweeping aside the particles with my hands like I'm paddling a boat. Charlie creeps behind me as close as possible, his gun raised high over my shoulder.

'Just in case,' he whispers.

The streets are as desolate as the station. Last time we came, I'd marvelled at the magnificent houses that lined the roads. Real houses, I mean, with tiled roofs and ivy creeping up the brickwork, not the plastic pods the rest of us lived in. Now, many of these houses were reduced to rubble; others were peppered with bullet holes, or had chunks blasted away. In the middle of the road lies a droid, scattered in pieces. Its hand still clutches a lollipop-sign, its head rolling through the mist occasionally bleating: "Stop. Look left. Look right. Now, children, it's safe to cross!'

A fire blazes at the end of the road. It spits ash into the air – here, the mist has almost congealed into an evil fungus-grey sludge. As we get closer, we see the remains of a market. A neon-flashing sign crunches under my boots; I lift a foot to read 'DUSK-MOTORS, PROMOTIONAL SALE NOW 10% OFF SELECTED MODELS'. Mangled chunks of blackened metal lie strewn across the pavement, and I kick them aside as we pick our way through.

My heart aches at the waste of it all. A fountain has crumbled, leaking water all over the road. Ostentatious as it is – nobody really needs a statue of Jinaka, do they? – back home, the puddles alone on the ground would have sustained us for a week. I splash through them, cursing them with my every step. Knowing they'll just evaporate, or be guzzled into the ground.

Such a waste.

'So, where are the Resisters, then?' I hiss, as Charlie leads us behind the Artistry Guild. I imagine it was once enchanting. Technicolour brought the Gothic architecture to life: pillars swirl with magenta, indigo and saffron; archways are embossed with peacock-feather patterns; and towering spokes catch the sunlight and send rainbows of sparkles cascading down.

Now, it lies in ruins. Coloured debris rains down from the crater-size hole in its central dome, dusting the pavement with glitter.

A fuchsia pillar stretches across our path; we crouch down beside it, peering over the top. Vomit rises in my throat. A trail of bodies runs all the way into the belly of the building, and there's a stench of burning flesh.

Charlie raises the mesh part of his helmet so he can cup a hand around his mouth and nose. 'I don't know.' He taps his ear-piece with his free hand, a muscle in his jaw popping. 'But we only have forty-five minutes left to go.'

'Okay, well let's think. Where else have they attacked so far?'

'The University, the Dennydome, the Research Centre and the bridge connecting the Lares district of the city to the Ra district.' Charlie counts them off on his fingers. 'At this rate, we'll be ruined. Pieces of –,'

'Okay, so what could be the next logical target?'

Charlie frowns. 'Hmm. Singavere Central Station would have been my first bet, but we've just come from there and seen no one. There's the Grand Hall, where Jinaka hosts rulers from other planets. Or, uh, the Space Port, where the shuttles off-planet are based.' He slams the mesh of his helmet shut again, coughing and shaking his head. 'But the Space Port's attached to the station, so, again I think we can rule that out. The Grand Hall isn't far from the bridge though, and that was the last place they attacked. Let's head to the Hall, and if there's nothing, back to the Space Port. It's a long shot, but it's all we have.'

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'Lead the way.'

We make our way across the city, me carefully cleaving a pathway for us, and Charlie sweeping his gun left and right, always 'just in case'. . . But after only a few minutes, a buzzing sound makes Charlie jump out of his skin.

'I've got a message from a new contact.' Charlie taps his headphone, frowning. 'Who the heck would. . . what?'

He mutters something then offers a headphone to me, his expression flat. 'It's for you.'

'For me?'

'Your Elementalist friend. Rai. Clock's ticking, Samma. Better prioritise.'

I snatch the headphone and stuff it into my ear, just like Rai showed me all those months ago. If he was messaging me now, it had to be important.

'What do I do?'

Charlie rolls his eyes. 'Play message,' he says.

"Sammi, everything we knew was a lie. The Resisters, the Futurists, they're all just pawns. The Ra are the real enemy, it's too confusing to explain now. Just trust us – it's the Ra who are going to kill us all. Stay safe – we'll come back for you."

I stare at Charlie. Henry's feeble beeping inside Charlie's rucksack in response to Rai's voice stutters to a stop.

What on earth has happened?

Charlie looks equally troubled. 'What does he mean, we're the ones who are pawns? And why on earth would he say that about that Ra?'

'I don't know.'

The Ra are the real enemy. The Ra...?

Then my thoughts stop churning, and I take a deep breath. All I can do is focus on what I do know. And if what Rai said is true. . .

It's even more important that I find Musa quickly. I have to stop this fight.

Before everyone does something too terrible to forgive.

*

We make our way from the Ceres district to the Lares, the destruction growing steadily worse. Twice, Charlie has to wrench me out of the way as buildings collapse in front of us, and when a drone explodes over our heads, I use my powers instinctively. Luckily, the surrounding mist is only too easy to control – I send a wave sweeping outwards, repelling the debris from the blast safely away from us. Charlie wipes his brow, and gives me a strange, sideways glance.

'Thanks.'

'No problem.'

Henry starts beeping again, his antennae poking out of Charlie's bag. I reach inside to soothe him, wondering if he recognises this place or if it just reminds him of Rai. Everything reminds me of Rai. Had he shopped in this street, or studied in that school? Had he walked across that bridge with his friends? Was that body someone he knew?

It's all just so desolate. But the closer we get to the Ra district, sounds begin to drift through the mist towards us. Sounds that make my stomach clench.

'Listen.' I pull on Charlie's sleeve.

Charlie swallows, raising his gun onto his shoulder again. 'Yes. I hear it too.'

The pounding of steel-capped boots against tarmac. The blasts of bullets ricocheting off brick and bone.

Charlie checks his ear-piece. 'Only twenty-five minutes left.'

My heart screams, banging against my rib-cage. 'We're not going to make it.'

Charlie's jaw sets. 'We are. Look.' He points east. There, behind the wreckage of a smouldering bridge, is the Grand Hall. It's easily the most recognisable building in the city. Like a multi-tiered cake, it rises in layers, each circular level panelled with blue and purple opalescent glass, with a cylindrical lift that runs up through the centre. It gives the rather dangerous impression that the levels are being held up by the lift itself – like it's acting as a podium. I wonder, for a ridiculous second, how they are balancing.

But aerodynamics are the least of our concerns. The Futurists, so far, retain control, and soldiers hang out of windows throughout each of the layers, barely visible against the coloured glass. Many of the panels have been smashed to create more windows to shoot from. Smoke circles above, like the ghosts of vultures.

'They're evacuating,' Charlie whispers, his head cocked as he listens intently to his earpiece. 'I've managed to contact one of the guards. They've got thousands of civilians on the ground floor, and thousands more filtering into bunkers below.'

'Underground?'

'Yes. Jinaka installed bunkers into all our major buildings, just in case anything like the wars ever happened again. As long as everyone manages to get down there, they should be fine. But there's still so many waiting to go in – and look. There are the Resisters.'

I choke down bile. I don't know how I didn't spot them earlier. But now – as Charlie points them out – I see RESIST troops hiding in every crevice, around every corner. They crawl out from underneath cars, slide into view behind surrounding shops. Soldiers from squad six shimmy along the domed roof itself, clinging to metallic ropes; the Futurists aim their fire up at them, and for now, at least, they seem to be holding squad six's attack at bay.

Then Charlie lets out a growl. I follow his finger – he's pointing to the bridge. I squint harder. A chunk of the bridge is missing, and squatting in the hole are dozens of squad five soldiers, their tell-tale bullet-proof vests catching the light.

Musa was wearing a bullet-proof vest in the news footage. . . He must be part of Squadron five.

'Quick, hurry!' I yank on Charlie's hand and together we run towards the bridge, ducking as a Futurist bullet glances off the stone above our heads. 'I think Musa's in there.' Then something occurs to me, and I baulk.

'What is it?'

'You can't come with me! The Resisters will take one look at you and –!'

'Well, you can't go in alone.' He folds his arms, a picture of stubbornness; I stamp my foot, losing it completely in my panic.

'Well what the hell do you want me to do?'

Charlie shakes his head, and then does the last thing I'd ever expect. He starts to strip.

'What are you doing?'

'Looking less like a Futurist,' he hisses, tugging off his boots and ripping layers of mesh-like armour from his body. 'See that body over there? Get me his boots and vest, now.'

I sprint to where the body of a Resister lies splayed in a pool of his own blood. 'I'm sorry,' I stammer, trying not to look as I pull the boots off his feet and try to ease the scarlet vest from his back. 'I'm so sorry.'

When we're finished, Charlie still doesn't look exactly like a Resister. If you look closely, you can still see his emotion filters, and the row of gadgets sparkling in his ears. But once he's pulled the RESIST balaclava over his face, no one could easily guess.

'Come on.'

Two Resisters, panting by the edge of the bridge, notice us sooner than we expect. 'There!' One of them shouts, aiming his weapon at us as we hurry towards them, still crouched low. 'Should we shoot?'

'No, they're red, see?' His friend stumbles to his feet, beckoning to us. 'Hurry, hurry! Before the whole thing blows!'

'Good lord.' The first Resister lowers his weapon as we stagger closer; he and his friend heave us under the bridge by our elbows, and he points at me in agitation. 'You're – you're. . . Sammi?'

The soldiers here are a mess. Half of them are stretched out, either seriously wounded or dead, whilst the other half scurry around hurriedly strapping up limbs and wounds with black tape. But when they hear my name, the medics stop. The wounded sit up.

'Sammi?'

'The Sammi?

'The Elementalist?'

Many of them start rising to greet us, trying to touch my arms, face, hair, any part of me they can reach. Like they're checking I'm real.

'Are you really here?'

Some peer over my shoulder at Charlie, who's looking increasingly uncomfortable. 'Rai, is that you?'

'It's Kass, you idiot, Rai's not so tall.'

One of them rips off her balaclava revealing a face streaked with dirt, blood and tears that she makes no attempt to quell. 'I can't believe you're here. . . You don't know how much this means to us.' Her voice cracks as she grabs my shoulders. 'Without you, we would never have achieved any of this. And now you're here to support us. . . Someone go get Musa!'

One of the soldiers hurries off, and even though I know it's wrong – my heart flutters.

'Musa's here?'

Here, with the wounded? Out of the corner of my eye, I notice Charlie twitch. Did he sense the alarm in my voice?

'Yes,' one of the soldiers says eagerly, removing his balaclava too. Hell. He looks even younger than me. 'He's won't believe it –'

'Sammi?'

Finally, that voice.

I turn slowly on the spot. A blood-soaked figure in a vest and balaclava races into view and suddenly I'm lifted off my feet – strong arms I've known all my life envelop me, they swallow me up, and I feel his heart beating against my chest in time with my own.

'Sammi,' Musa whispers like a mantra. 'Sammi, Sammi, Sammi, Sammi. . .'

'Fifteen minutes,' Charlie mutters.

And my warm glow freezes.

I push Musa away, holding him at arms-length. Scared that if I don't, I'll lose my resolve.

'We need to talk.'

His Adam's apple bobs as he swallows and something in his eyes sets. He nods and leads me by the hand through the crowd, the other soldiers melting away from us without needing to be asked, until we reach a secluded part of the bridge. Charlie follows behind with silent footsteps.

Once alone, Musa sinks down into the rubble, wrenching off his balaclava. He holds a hand out to me. With one small choke, I fall into his arms.

'No.'

Musa's face is covered in blood. It's crusted in his hair, dripping in streaks over his eyes and nose.

'It's okay, it's okay!' Musa wrestles my hands away from his face. I realise the sounds incoherently spilling from my mouth aren't even words – they're just that. Sounds.

'Don't panic, it looks worse that it is. You don't exactly look great yourself.' His eyes snap towards Charlie, as though he's only just noticed him. 'Hey, you. Get lost.'

Charlie's shoulders tense and I grab Musa's chin, turning it towards me. 'Musa, don't fly off the handle. This is Charlie. He's a Futurist soldier – no, wait,' I gabble, as Musa makes to spring to his feet, his wide eyes furious. 'He's helping me; if it weren't for him, I'd never have found you.'

'What are you even doing here?' Musa hisses, without taking his eyes off Charlie. 'Why would a Futurist bring you here, unless. . .' He flings my hands off him and lunges at Charlie, seizing him by the vest. 'Is this a threat? Are you using her to threaten us?'

'Musa, no!'

'Just let the girl speak, will you?' Charlie shrugs Musa off, then rips off his balaclava, tossing it to the ground as I wrestle Musa backwards. 'You've only got ten minutes, Sammi.'

'Musa, you have to listen to me.' My voice hiccups with tears, but I have to quench them, there just isn't time. 'You have to call off this attack. Please.'

'Why?' Musa cups my face in both hands, locking my eyes with such intensity, I think he's trying to absorb me into his soul. 'I swear to god, if they've hurt you I'll kill them all –,'

'Musa, for once in your life, shut up. After we destroyed the beta-cap, we got captured by Jinaka –,'

'I know. Why do you think we're doing this? We gave Jinaka a direct warning: return you, Kass and Rai before nightfall or there will be consequences –,'

'Liar.' Charlie's face burns bright red in outrage. 'Nobody made any such warning. This attack was too well timed to be any kind of response. You knew exactly what you were doing.'

'What did you call me –?'

'Musa! Seriously, my god, just listen! You have to call off this attack!'

There's a pause, and Musa recoils. He blinks, his confusion evident and terrible on his face. Like I'm a traitor.

'But – why? It's going so well. I know we've had some casualties, but, overall –,'

'Well? Musa, do you realise how many innocent people have been killed in this attack? It's hundreds, maybe more!'

Musa shrugs. One simple movement that slices my heart in two.

'Is that all you can do? Shrug?'

Musa's expression darkens. 'What do you want me to say? Yeah, okay, some civilians got caught in the cross-fire, but come on. What have they ever done for us? They're Singavereans – they'd spit on us if they saw us in the streets! Have you forgotten everything they've done to us? We've been trodden in the dirt our whole lives, starving, diseased, dying, whilst they've just lounged around in their bubble, lording over us in this perfect world pretending everything's fine.'

Musa's voice catches in his throat. 'It's not fine, Sammi. They can't get away with it, not any more. At some point, we had to make a stand. And yeah, okay, it sucks that innocent people have paid the price, but maybe Jinaka shouldn't hide behind civilians if he doesn't want them to get hurt –,'

'Hiding behind his civilians? Jinaka is going to be out on the battlefield, pounding your worthless hide.' Charlie loses his temper. 'Sammi, you've got five minutes left. Then, these scumbags are going to get everything they deserve.'

'Charlie, please. Musa!' I tug at Musa's shirt, shaking him, unable to look away from his terrible, terrible eyes.

Have they always been so angry?

So full of hate?

How have I never seen it before? When we went for walks hand-in-hand when we were small – were they so dark then? When we played together in the pool, trying not to splash each other – had they been so cold?

When he wrapped his chain around my wrist on my birthday, his fingers trembled and I felt the most loved I'd ever felt in my whole life. Had those been the fingers of a cold-blooded killer?

The night he kissed me. . . When he took me in his arms and held me close –

No. My mind rejected it. No.

They did this to him. Cotton – Văn. They turned him into. . . this. This boy of anger and hate, this stranger I don't know.

'You have to stop this. Now, Musa. Take me to Văn, I need to tell him what will happen if you don't stop this now. FUTURE may not even be as much to blame as we think – Rai says that it's actually the Ra –'

'What are you talking about?' Musa's lip curls. 'The Ra? That's ridiculous. As for any Futurist threats. . .'

'But Rai said it's all them, I need to warn Văn –,'

'There's no point.' Musa interrupts, his voice flat. 'It's too late. He won't listen. None of them will. The Futurists need to pay for what they've done.'

'Oh, trust me, boy,' Charlie spits. 'It will be you that pays, ten times over, if you don't get your boss to call this off now. Trust me. I know what's coming.'

My mind flashes to the fighter drones, hovering above our heads.

'I can't –.' My words die on my lips. 'I can't lose you too.'

A crack appears in Musa's hard expression, and he hesitates. 'Sammi, what – why are you doing this? It's like you've forgotten everything. What about Nura? She's why we're here, remember? If you don't want to lose us, go and destroy the third capsule like you're supposed to. Without it, FUTURE won't have the power to do anything to hurt us ever again –'

Suddenly, the air in front of us twists.

'What the –'

Musa and I leap back as, from out of nowhere, a black void opens in the air and two figures, one with shaggy brown hair, one with midnight-blue, tumble out almost on top of Charlie's head.

'Kass? Rai?'

Charlie dives out of the way and they land in a heap on the ground. His rucksack bursts open, and Henry bulldozes into Rai's arms.

Rai and Kass stir, groaning. I collapse beside them, clutching their shaking bodies like they're a lifeline, unable to believe that they're here, that they actually came back for me –

'It was him.' Rai hugs Henry's body, sobbing so hard it's almost impossible to understand him. 'Eldred. It was all him.'

'One more minute!' Charlie's voice booms in my ear. 'Where's Fina?'

'No.' Musa's voice is as cold as ice. 'No more minutes. Time's up.'

The Great Hall explodes.

*

There's a shrill ringing in my ears. . .

Hot air scalds my skin.

A mushroom-shaped cloud erupts from the ground –

My head smacks into something hard –

And there are screams.

Futurists'. Resisters'. Mine.