Chapter 22

What a day. She wore her mustard-yellow cloak to match the endless crowd of Pilgrims before her, reminding them once again that they would all be Gods someday if they chose the Evolution alongside her. What other choice did they have? By furthering society, she would be placing Alaska back online. Not on the internet of old, but a new human-wired system that allowed humankind to accomplish things never dreamed before. Alaska, the site of the Maze, would be the leader of the future.

Flint worked to calm the crowd in front of her.

The Evolutionary Guards flanked her tighter than ever.

Alexandra searched the crowd for Pilgrims she might recognize from the six devout who, like Mannus and like the crazed woman in the streets, knew her secrets. She should have better committed their names and faces to memory, but she had other ways of flushing them out.

Her vision flashed red again with fire. Red and orange flames as if her mind itself was the very thing ablaze and she couldn't escape her own madness. The stress of the Evolution was getting to her, that was all. The stress of Nicholas still having control over her from beyond. His death had become a smothering blanket of wool, scratchier than the cheapest Pilgrim's cloak, and she was ready to be free of it already. Her ears buzzed a tone so high-pitched that she almost let out a scream. The Flaring Discipline be damned, she needed to control her mind. She recited the digits, a thing she was doing more frequently with every passing day.

"Goddess Romanov, they're ready for you." Flint directed her to the front of the stage, but she wasn't yet ready to address this Sunday crowd of Pilgrims, not without Mannus. He was her social experiment, her proof against any stigma or whispers that Evolution was anything but good. Where was that horned human?

"Goddess!" A man with long, matted hair screamed from the front of the crowd. "What of the murder? Who'll be charged for the death of our God?!" Others grumbled in agreement with his outburst.

"We need justice!"

"Send them to the Guardroom!"

Alexandra would calm them today, but in due time she needed a scapegoat or the Pilgrims would never settle. She looked over at Flint who voraciously tried to hush the Sunday chants, Flare above, Maze below.

The crowd finally settled.

She'd keep silly Flint around. He was good for some things.

There was commotion behind her as her Evolutionary Guard barricade let someone onto the stage, but it wasn't Mannus. It was a man in a dark robe, similar to what Nicholas wore. For just a moment Alexandra felt the scream of betrayal from her guards, as though Nicholas' ghost had whispered to them of her guilt. Her neck muscles seized with tension.

"How do I look?" The figure asked as it came closer.

Relief flooded through her. "You look . . ." She searched for the words but the only one that came to mind was "hornless."

Mannus, missing his ratty beard along with the horns, looked softer, more human than ever. He winked and gave a chuckle that made Alexandra feel violated. Did he just read her thoughts?

"Indeed. Impressive, isn't it?" he said. "That Cure gave me some fun gifts."

Her jaw tightened. His lips hadn't moved.

Just as she had gotten rid of Nicholas' telepathy she had now apparently inherited Mannus', but she had to embrace the fact that some gifts of evolving would be like those of the Maze Trials. It was inevitable. Neural networks were a part of the Evolution.

But unlike Nicholas, she had control over Mannus.

You look like Nicholas in that cloak, but don't be an idiot. Follow suit and you can keep your head. She made sure to think the words loud and clear before stepping forward and addressing the people.

"Good afternoon, dear Pilgrims. We want to assure you that there is nothing more important to the Godhead than your safety and that is why we are moving quickly with our plans for the Culmination of the Evolution." She paused, considering how delicately she must balance her motives with the fears, desires, and survival needs of her followers. She pushed the fire and buzzing out of her mind, into the embrace of the Flaring. "Not only is the serum for the Evolution a preventative to the Flare, but it will also unlock your highest potential in every way."

"Serum? We have to drink it?" an older man griped, as if they didn't drink every night at the pub, anyway. Alexandra hated getting hung up on semantics, but she wasn"t exactly sure how the vials would be distributed. Serum sounded better than dispensing, the term the Villa had used.

"How do we know it's safe?" another shouted.

"The details will be available soon enough, but we've begun with our first set of human trials." Alexandra waved at Mannus to join her at the front of the stage, conveniently leaving out the fact that their Godhead had been the real commencement of human trials. "Mannus, please step forward."

Her eyes wandered the crowd before her, waiting for each unique reaction of those Pilgrims who knew Mannus as a lower-rung member of society. A rung just above the dead moss above the site of the Maze, trampled on daily. A horned being, more beast than man, barely more man than Crank.

Mannus pulled back his cloak to reveal his face, and more importantly, his hornless head. A gasp drifted over the gathered, from front to back. Alexandra smiled as the Pilgrims turned to each other, sharing their wonder. "You may know Mannus as one of you, but he is now raised to a God-like status through the help of the Evolution."

A bit of a stretch, even she was ready to admit. But no matter. Means to an end, all that.

The heckling began soon after the initial shock.

"He's no God. He just got rid of his horns!"

"We don't care about this—we want justice for Nicholas. Justice!"

"Flaring justice!"

Flint attempted to silence the growing dissent, but his waving arms and shouts were little help, drowned out by the noise. The buzz in Alexandra's ear started again, coupled with fierce head pain.

"Flaring justice, flaring justice, flaring justice . . . ," they chanted and Alexandra pressed her tongue to the roof of her mouth in anger. She simply would not be able to roll out anything to do with the Evolution today. Instead, she'd have to pacify their wants for justice. The Flare be damned, she'd give them justice. She stepped forward with her hands in front of her in prayer position. "Please, settle yourselves. We know who's responsible for the murder of our dear Nicholas." A hush fell over the audience just as she knew it would.

She turned to Mannus.

Name them, the four others who accompanied you,Alexandra thought at him.

He shook his head, stood firm. Challenging her.

It's you or them,she thought, along with all the feel of warning she could muster. Mannus stood there in his robe, unmoving and unspeaking. Fine. She'd show him that she wasn't bluffing. "Dearest people of Alaska. Look to—"

"Pilgrim Gilbert!" Mannus shouted aloud in a deep, booming voice.

The crowd turned as one toward a round-headed man, no horns, but with the names of every single Glader of old tattooed on his face. Alexandra remembered him now. How could she ever have forgotten those fanatical tattoos? As soon as Mannus spoke the name, it was as if the robe of Nicholas' transformed his word into law; the surrounding people mobbed the tattoo-faced man, throwing punches and kicking him to the ground. From beneath their grapples, the man tried to defend himself, tried to speak, but the violence only worsened. Alexandra didn't like it, but she let the people have their moment, restraining the Evolutionary Guards with a glance, allowing the Pilgrims the reprieve of vigilante justice.

The tattoo-faced man suddenly broke free from the mob, every last inch of him bruised or bloodied. "It was the Godhead turning on their own! It was—" A man in the crowd slugged the tattooed Pilgrim so hard he collapsed to the ground, completely lifeless. The Evolutionary Guard dragged him away.

She kept her face still. Sometimes, violence was the only option. Sometimes, an example had to be made. For the greater good.

"Yes, the rumors are true." She spoke loud and clear. "The Godhead has turned its back on its own kind, as well as the people of Alaska." The crowd quieted. "Mikhail has murdered our dear Nicholas and used the weakest of the Pilgrims to do his bidding." She barely got the words out before the people before her erupted in screams of disbelief. Horror. They clawed at their own skin and eyes.

Flint tried to calm them down by yelling one of the chants. "Flare above, Maze below! Flare above, Maze below!" But nothing of the sort would fix this. The people needed to heal, and in order to heal they first needed the wound ripped wide open.

Keep going. She sent her thoughts to Mannus, finding the task easier and easier. You wanted power, well this is how you take it. Her ears rang with the piercing buzz as she observed Mannus announce the names of another man and two women. The mob went after the Pilgrims before the Evolutionary Guard ever had a chance.

"Godkillers! Traitors!" The people shouted, their voices rising in waves of strength. They nearly murdered the four Pilgrims before the Guards could take them captive. The prisoners were lucky to be alive.

Meanwhile, Alexandra was trying to shake the madness from within. The buzzing, the visions of fire. It was over now, she told herself. There would be no more outbursts. No more demands from the crowd. Mannus looked particularly annoyed, probably realizing the price of betrayal. Alexandra could hardly feel sympathy. If he wanted to wear the cloak of a Godhead, then he had to carry the burdens that came with it.

She wasn't done with the crowd. "The people of Alaska want justice and we must deliver that today!" She allowed a long, dramatic pause. "We will send them to the Maze—for Nicholas!"

The Pilgrims cheered.

Too easy.

La verdad siempre saldrá a la luz.

She grilled the boy standing in front of her, needing the total truth about Annie. "Was she with a group of people when you met her or not?" Deep down in the middle of her bones she knew that her mom was dead, but within the center of her heart remained the smallest bit of hope.

"I . . . I don't . . . know . . ." The young man's eyes darted to the two others in the room, the old geezer and the sick lady, but Ximena had heard disappointing news from adults her entire life. She wanted to hear this from the boy.

"You do know." It couldn't be more obvious that he was lying. Weakness. The immune's blood might have been strong, but the rest of his body was weak. His eyes were tired, wounded, like whatever he'd seen wasn't something he ever wanted to say out loud. There was no way he'd killed Annie. Ximena put the knife back in her pocket. She softened. "What's your name?"

"About time someone asked. I'm Isaac. And that's Frypan, and this is Ms. Cowan."

"Isaac." Ximena slowed down her words, "I need to know where they are. The people who were with Annie Kletter. Can you tell me that?"

He nodded, almost looking relieved.

"They're on our island back home," he said softly, and Ximena allowed herself the slightest sense of relief. Of course her mom and Mariana wouldn't want to come home from the island, with so much to study and learn from the immunes. Absent-minded Annie didn't leave them behind—they chose to stay.

Ximena looked back to the old man, named Frypan of all things. He had a strange look in his eyes. "What? What is it?" she asked. The Cowan woman coughed. They all avoided Ximena's stare as if they knew how different she was. A uniqueness that her mother called special, but Ximena felt differently. Every time she met someone outside her village and they learned the truth about her, they ignored her, stayed away from her. "Did my mom tell you about me?"

"What is your name, dear?" The sick lady asked, and Ximena realized she hadn't told them yet. Not that it mattered; they'd never see each other again after today.

"Ximena."

"What a beautiful name." Ms. Cowan coughed. "I'm so sorry to have to tell you this, but . . ."

"The boat, when it came in . . ." Isaac continued, and Ximena froze. Anything that started with an apology and needed two people to explain wasn't good. She gazed into each of their weak, tired eyes. The old man returned a look of sincere sympathy, as if he'd seen all the worst things the world had to offer during his long life, and that he was sorry for it all.

She shook her head, wanting to deny it.

The omen of the dead, blackened jackrabbits.

Her premonitions.

Despite already knowing the truth, she couldn't stop shaking her head.

Frypan stepped forward and put his hand gently on her elbow. "They didn't suffer." He said it in a way only someone who'd lost a loved one could. Or many loved ones.

Ximena started to cry before she heard the how and the why of it all. Her mom was gone. She wiped at her eyes, promising her Abuela that she would find the truth. She owed it to her whole village, and it all started with these islanders. "Get in the pods. One each." She motioned with the keys in her hand.

"We're really sorry," Isaac said.

But could he possibly know what it felt like to lose a parent? To not get to say goodbye? She doubted it. "Get in the pod," she ordered, refusing to look him in the eye.

Trees. Mountains. Rocky cliffs.

Air almost as chilled as the water crashing ashore.

Alaska.

The Maze Cutter anchored inside a small bay with a rough bump that jolted Sadina. Trish helped her gather their stuff; Miyoko and Dominic got the rest. "Should we bring the other palm mats too?" Miyoko asked.

Minho snapped his answer. "Nope. Only what you need to survive. Bags, food, weapons."

Sadina tucked The Book of Newt into her satchel. "We don't need weapons."

As if her very words triggered the entire changing of the world, the skies darkened. Above them, approaching from the wooded horizon inland, were six Bergs. Bergs! Six of them. Then the sound caught up, shaking the air and the land, rocking the boat. It had all happened so fast.

"What's happening?!" Miyoko shouted, directed at Minho, dropping the palm mats she'd been defying orders to bring.

"Shit!" was the Orphan's reply. He grabbed his armory bag. "Orange!" He motioned something to his longtime companion, a sign language that Sadina didn't understand.

"Do you know who that is, son?" Roxy asked. "Last time we saw those things, it wasn't good."

"Not sure." But Sadina saw a watery look in his eyes that worried her. Something like fear, so unusual for him. "It's not good, you're right. Reminds me way too much of the Remnant Nation's war formation. Everyone grab a weapon."

Of all the things running through Sadina"s head lately, war was not one of them. The island where they'd grown up was so peaceful and dedicated to generational growth that war wasn't even in their sphere of thinking. What would Old Man Frypan say if he were here? Probably something like, nothing good ever happens in Alaska.

"Here." Minho handed Dominic a small knife no bigger than the ones he'd been scaling fish with. "Don't be scared. Maybe they'll fly right over us. Or even better, seems like they're heading north, not right at us."

The boy shrugged, trying to hide the tremble in his shoulders. "How'd you know I'm scared . . ."

"Just a wild guess," Minho responded, and then he handed a small gun to Sadina. She knew absolutely nothing about how to use it.

"I don't want it." She tried to give it back to him, but he pushed it against her.

"Armory is an extension of your arms," he insisted, placing the gun in her right hand and showing her how to hold it correctly. "Respect. Control. You can handle it." She looked over at Dominic with his knife and wished she had that, instead. But Dom never had control, likely would shoot his foot off.

Sadina met eyes with Trish, and Trish nodded as if she could hear what Sadina was thinking. "Wait." Sadina tried one more time to give the gun back to Minho. "You'll be with us, you can protect us. I don't wanna kill anybody!"

"I can only use one weapon at a time," Minho said. "Everyone listen up. We're going to make a pack-run for the woods and go as far in as we can and then slightly north once we're under cover. Keep quiet and keep alert. I don't think the Bergs will spot us or care about us. Not yet, anyway."

Sadina didn't know what that meant, exactly. She put the gun in her back pocket but it felt like it was weighing her down in more ways than one. She wished Minho could've said something a little more encouraging like, don't worry everything will be okay. Her mom would have if she were there. But Sadina was never more aware of the danger all around. "Trish," she reached for her hand as they left the ship. "You okay?"

Six more Bergs whipped past them overhead, a little closer this time. Miyoko covered her ears and asked, "How many of those things are there?"

"That makes twelve," Roxy said as she strapped a long gun across her chest and a knife around her waist.

"Are you okay?" Sadina whispered to Trish again.

"I don't know what to think . . ." Trish watched in fascination as the Bergs flew farther north. "But wherever you go, I'll go." She clasped her fingers around Sadina's and held them tight. Sadina was thankful to feel something other than fear in that moment, and she squeezed back just as hard. She whispered her response into Trish's ear.

"Wherever you are, I'll be."

Bergs. Lots of Bergs.

Six of them. They appeared as suddenly as a stroke.

Dizzy from the spectacular, horrifying sight, she almost had to grab on to Flint for balance. The sound of the flying machines was like anger from the ancient gods, displayed with thunder and lightning. Her ears ached from it, the noise much worse than the maddening tone that had inflicted her of late. Perhaps it had been a warning all along. But what good was a premonition if she could do nothing to stop it?

Six more Bergs appeared. Twelve!

Her vision flashed red.

Just as the monsters of metal, exhaling blue fire like dragons of ancient lore, spread out in the sky above, the people of New Petersburg dispersed through the streets in a mad panic. As if her body had taken charge, taken over her troubled mind, Alexandra abruptly realized that she, too, was already running for cover, her Evolutionary Guard and Flint right beside her.

Her feet pounded the ground like never before.

A wild, foreign feeling of fear rushed through her.

She turned to her Evolutionary Guard and shouted over the Bergs above, "We have to get back to the—"

One of the Guards dropped to his knees.

"Get up!" They had to get away from the city. A mild grunt escaped the Guard's lungs as he collapsed fully onto his stomach. An arrow stuck out from his back.

"Goddess!" Another one of the Guards pulled at her, but she looked up, tracing the arc of the arrow. A Berg, as loud and bright as the sun, hovered above them; Alexandra swore she could see a child holding a bow. A child? Is that all it took to kill her strongest Guard? Panic filled her like an aurora in the night sky.

The remainder of the Guard yanked her into a building to escape the crossfire, then pushed her through the empty bakery, all of them running to nowhere. But the Berg was targeting the Goddess with more than just arrows.

Explosives. Bombs.

Walls crumbled around them, the world becoming dust and noise, cracks of cement and the warping of metal. And death. Several Guards crushed.

She knew nothing of wars. For years she'd played nice with Nicholas and Mikhail so that tensions never escalated. As she scrambled to avoid the falling debris, choking on the dust, it hit her like its own explosion.

Mikhail.

Somehow, in his Crank-riddled mind, he'd been able to orchestrate this.

Two Guards pushed Alexandra out the back exit. She coughed and gasped for air as they emerged into a city full of flames and destruction. She pulled her cloak tight around her as if it had magical powers of protection.

"Get me to—" But when she turned around it was only Flint behind her.

"They—they . . . ," Flint stuttered.

"Nevermind! Come on!" She ran, and Flint followed. She tore through the south streets, farther from the child army and farther from the Bergs. She zigzagged and dodged things falling from the sky, cinched her hood around her face so that no one could see it was her—their Goddess—running away from her people. Gunfire rang in every direction. She considered fleeing to the ruins of the Maze, but if she fled below ground it would surely be her burial site.

And so, she ran.

She ran, Flint beside her, weaving between the Pilgrims who chose to stand their ground like maniacs and fight for their land, and between the bodies on the ground that lay already dead. She jumped over a woman on the street, eyes glazed over, who she'd seen earlier shouting for justice. Flaring justice, flaring justice.

The Flare be damned.

The Evolution be damned.

Mikhail be damned.

She saw a black cloak that just for a moment made her think Nicholas had returned from the grave with the armies of the dead, seeking revenge.

Mannus.

He turned to her with the dead stare of a man crippled by terror. He was alive, but his mind seemed on the edge of flight, the escape of madness. And then she remembered.

The boat.

Docked along a southern port from when they'd returned from the Villa.

"Flint, there's a—" Alexandra stopped at the sight of her faithful servant's expression, crooked with pain. They locked eyes for just a moment before he gave her an apologetic look and fell. His knees hit the ground, a single red arrow jutting from his neck.

Flint.

All these years, she could never even be bothered to use his real name. His dying eyes searched her face and the greatest shame she'd ever known washed through her every cell.

"I'm sorry . . . ," she mouthed to him. And then he was gone.

The only thing remaining in all the world was for her to run.

Goddess Alexandra Romanov ran.