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An animal dwells within, sharpening your claws against the world.

“This can’t be real.”

“Which part?” Winnie asked.

“All of it,” Khalani exclaimed.

Winnie paused typing and twisted in her chair. “Why? Because it strays past your wildest imaginings?” Her eyes sparkled with amusement. “You’re only beginning to understand, dear. Nothing is as beautiful, harsh, or unforgiving as the Earth.”

Khalani frowned, flipping through the book Winnie gave her while she typed notes. It was titled Natural Wonders of the World— another object Winnie managed to sneak from the Archives.

“This. Right here.” Khalani turned the book so Winnie could see. Her fingers gripped the long glossy pages tightly. “These lights in the sky. Is it magic?”

Winnie leaned forward and adjusted her monocle for a closer look. She glanced up at Khalani with a quirky smile. “That’s the aurora borealis. They used to call it the Northern Lights. Not magic but science. But science is so crazy that calling it magic makes more sense sometimes.”

Khalani’s mouth parted as she stared at the different hues. She gently stroked her fingers across the pages, outlining the green and blue colors as if to extend the dazzling lights past the boundaries of the page, attempting to paint distant magic into existence.

“I never imagined something so beautiful ever existed,” Khalani whispered. She continued to stare at the picture, but second by second, bitterness and contempt took root in her stomach. “But the more I learn about Earth, Winnie, the less I want to know. We had it all back then, and now…it’s all gone.” Her smile faded with the knowledge that humans would never gaze upon that perfection again.

“Don’t be sad,” Winnie noted Khalani’s forlorn gaze. “You still live on Earth, do you not? Were you carted off to space?”

“Well, no. But—”

“Then don’t give up on your planet if it hasn’t given up on you.”

Winnie gave her a gentle nod to keep reading and turned around, continuing to type up notes.

Every day, Winnie taught her more and more about Earth, knowledge she’d never dreamed of acquiring.

A month had passed since the city street cleanup. During that time, she’d stuck with Serene, Derek, and Adan like glue, avoiding any encounter with Barron at all costs. The task was almost too easy, thanks to Takeshi’s intervention and sustained threat.

Khalani and Takeshi hadn’t spoken since that day.

Their only interaction was the occasional glance he gave her when she was let out of her cell in the morning and returned to it at night. That was it. No words of banter or simple greetings were exchanged. She was a social pariah to him.

It was better that way.

She remained vigilant, never relaxing in Braderhelm. The only thing she looked forward to daily was conversing with Winnie while they listened to music. By now, she had every song on the Grease album memorized .

Khalani flipped the book to a picture of the Pacific Ocean. The pool of water was like a deep blue monster that threatened to swallow her through the page. “People were crazy to ever set foot in the ocean. Too big and filled with creatures that could eat you? No, thank you.” She shivered.

Winnie chuckled. “Just because something is bigger than you doesn’t mean it’s scary. You must hold respect for nature and her power. If Winnie could travel back in time, it would be the first place she’d visit, and then go to a movie theater.”

“And watch Grease ?” A smile lit up Khalani’s face, a rarity before she met Winnie. She smiled more in prison than she had out of it.

Life had a wicked sense of humor.

“My dear, they played many movies, not just Grease . Hundreds and hundreds about love, war, loss, greed, happiness…Winnie would watch everything .”

Khalani shook her head in disbelief. “Why did Apollo stop all that? Why do they prohibit us from hearing or seeing art from the Great Collapse? Why do they lock all the artifacts in the Archives?”

Khalani remembered the Master Judge’s eyes of fury but never understood why the poetry was contraband. Nothing she ever read was dangerous. The question burned in her mind, but she’d been afraid to speak the words aloud and learn the truth.

The truth might’ve been harder to accept.

Winnie heaved a deep sigh and turned to her. “You told Winnie that Douglas gave you the poetry, right?”

She nodded.

“Why didn’t you immediately turn the book in when you knew it was from the Archives? That’s the law, isn’t it?”

Khalani snaked a hand through her hair. “I don’t know. Perhaps I should’ve. But when I read the book, it felt wrong to give it up. I knew the pages would disappear and didn’t want that.”

“Why? What did it make you feel?” Winnie pressed.

She hung her head. “Some people might think they were just words on a paper…but it was more for me. Each page was an expression of al l the hope and despair in my life, as if the author’s thoughts were an extension of me. That probably sounds stupid.”

Winnie emphatically shook her head. “No, no, dear. Keep going! If you have a thought, do your mind a favor and speak it, so it doesn’t have to house it forever.”

Khalani paused, trying to find the right words. “I don’t know. It was weird. For the first time, I felt…alive. Not just when I read it, either. The words stayed with me. Like the book was inspiring me to create a masterpiece myself. Even in prison.”

Winnie clapped her hands together. “Exactly! The last thing the Apollo Councilmen want is for its citizens to become inspired and creative. They want their people to remain content. Obedient. Art has the ability to embolden and galvanize people to desire more. They can’t have that.”

Her forehead creased. “Why would wanting more be a bad thing? If we put more minds together, we could figure out how to build a bigger Genesis to fit everyone, not just the rich. Once we all slowly migrate to the surface again, under a bigger dome, a lot of problems will be fixed.”

Winnie’s expression twisted, and her eyes held a deeper pain. “And what if he doesn’t want our problems to be fixed? You keep assuming he wants us to survive.”

Recognition dawned on her face. “The Governor? I know better than anyone that he is evil and only has his interests at heart. But part of those interests are still the safety of Apollo. They at least need our scientists, engineers, and farmers, or none of us would be able to survive. Right?” she implored, waiting expectantly for Winnie to agree.

“Right?” Khalani repeated.

Winnie stared down at her hands, fiddling with them as her mouth curved downward. Silence resonated through the room. Winnie opened her mouth to speak, but the alarm shrieked through the air, signaling the end of the afternoon shift.

“You better get going, Khalani.” Winnie’s expression turned downcast .

“What were you gonna say, Winnie?”

“Nothing. Nothing worth mentioning.” Winnie gave a dismissive wave of her hand, but a flash of grief entered her eyes. “Winnie doesn’t want you to be late. Go, dear.”

Khalani lingered, not wanting to end the conversation, but reluctantly headed toward the door. She turned back to wish Winnie a good day, but something stopped her. Tears streaked down Winnie’s face, and her shoulders slumped over as she stared at the painting of the white-robed man.

She hesitated, nearly switching directions to console Winnie and find out what was wrong but decided against it. When Khalani was sad, she preferred to be alone.

So, she left, giving Winnie the space she needed. Descending the rickety stairs, her brow furrowed in thought as she tried to figure out who the white-robed man in the painting was.

When Khalani entered the pit, a loud clamor of shouts and cheers erupted from the fighting area—much more boisterous than usual. In fact, everyone seemed to be clustered in the middle of the pit.

Khalani and Serene’s eyes met, and they surged toward the crowd. They found Derek and Adan on the outside, straining their necks to peer into the fighting ring.

“Adan, what’s going on?” Serene asked.

Adan turned to them, a wild excitement in his eyes. “It’s the Death-Zoner. A guard challenged him to fight in the pit.”

There was only one Death-Zoner holed up in Braderhelm, and he was already infamous. He was sentenced to prison right after the street cleanup.

The coincidence didn’t fall short on Khalani. He must have been the same Death-Zoner the council members cautiously whispered about around Governor Huxley.

Serene was able to find out his name, Brock, but nothing more. No one knew the crime he committed.

She heard several theories over the last couple of weeks—trying to flee to Hermes, killing another Death-Zoner, plotting to steal all the radiation suits, and attempting to bomb Apollo were some of her favorites.

A few brave prisoners approached Brock and asked why he was sentenced to Braderhelm and about his experience on the surface. He never answered them, and after breaking a prisoner’s nose for lingering too long, most people gave him a wide berth.

“Oh, I have to see this.” Serene grabbed Khalani’s hand and pulled her through the crowd.

Few situations existed where being short was a distinct advantage, but getting through a massive crowd was definitely one of them.

“Sorry, sorry,” she kept saying as they bumped into prisoners.

Serene was less polite. “Move, people.”

They finally squeezed to the front. The cheers were so loud they nearly drowned out her thoughts. In front of Khalani, Brock’s beefy arms were crossed over his chest, a stone-cold expression plastered on his face, with blond hair cropped tight to his scalp. He wasn’t what Khalani would call handsome, but he carried himself in a way that made you fear and respect him.

There wasn’t an ounce of fat on him. He was pure muscle and stood well over six feet, which would’ve been extremely intimidating for any other opponent.

The guard he faced was a monster of a man. The guard’s chest was bare, and his shoulders looked like mountains. He couldn’t even put his arms fully down to his side, that was how colossal they were. Despite Brock’s immense height, the guard was several inches taller and thicker.

“The Death-Zoner’s entering the pit to fight him ? Dude must want to die,” Serene mumbled.

Khalani caught sight of Takeshi standing at the opposite edge of the circle, flanked by several guards. His stormy eyes suddenly flickered to hers as if he could sense her gaze. This was the most they had interacted in weeks.

Her pulse quickened, but she refused to be the first to look away.

Takeshi’s gaze narrowed with irritation and he broke the contact, shifting his focus to the two men before him .

Some things never change.

The Death-Zoner and the immense guard geared up to face each other, and the pit lit up brighter than the tri-centennial celebration of Apollo.

“Let’s go, Brock!!” prisoners yelled.

“Rip him apart, Brock!”

“Kill him!!!”

The shouts escalated into a constant roar, and Khalani put her hands over her ears to mask the noise. The guard gestured to the crowd to silence them, and they strangely obeyed, all attention fixated on the two men.

“You’re going to die, Death-Zoner. And I’m more than happy to be your executioner.” The guard pointed to Brock, his deep baritone rivaling the depth of Braderhelm.

The Death-Zoner’s eyes darkened. “I’ve been at death’s door many times. I call it home.”

With that, Brock crouched and angled his body to the side, holding his fists up to his face. The giant guard smirked in response and moved forward.

He didn’t bother to turn his body to the side like Brock to appear smaller. Instead, he faced him head-on and threw a massive swing at Brock. Brock effortlessly dodged the punch and stepped back, his hands held protectively in front of his face.

There was no more room for quiet in the pit. The crowd erupted, and everyone was enthralled by the scene in front of them.

Brock danced on his feet, shuffling forward a few steps while still angled to the side. With an infuriated grunt, the guard took another shot, but Brock ducked to the left and countered with a swift strike that nailed the guard’s nose. The guard barely flinched and swung his other fist.

Brock leaned back and moved around the circle, facing his opponent from a different angle. With his back to Khalani, she could only focus on the fire and rage in the guard’s eyes.

The guard yelled and lunged at Brock with his whole body. Brock dove and rolled to the left .

Growing impatient, the guard snarled and charged again. Brock twisted his body and jumped, spinning mid-air and slamming his foot into the guard’s neck. The guard staggered back, trying to shake his head from the impact, but his legs began to wobble.

The roar of the crowd reached a crescendo when the guard tried to throw a fist but was clearly unstable from the jaw-dropping kick. Brock easily knocked away the hand and pummeled him square in the jaw.

The guard dropped his hands, stumbling back, and Brock went in for the kill.

He moved behind the guard and kicked him in the back of the legs. The guard fell to his knees, and there was no emotion on the Death-Zoner’s face as he bent forward, put his arms around the guard’s head, and snapped his neck. The guard’s eyes went lifeless as he slumped to the ground.

Dead.

The Death-Zoner exhaled heavily as he gazed down at the body, his eyes flickering with malice. The crowd seemed to hold its breath along with him.

Without another word, Brock climbed out of the fighting pit. At his movement, an explosion of cheers reverberated across the hall like rockets.

Khalani stood frozen, staring at the dead guard’s body. She’d never seen someone murdered in front of her eyes. Khalani felt the crack of bone like the damage was her own. It was gruesome and spellbinding, and the crowd ate it up. Even Serene beside her was slow clapping for Brock in shock and awe.

Takeshi nodded to the two guards next to him, and they dropped down to the dead guard. Khalani shuddered at the unnatural angle of his neck as the guards dragged his lifeless body out of the pit. She felt Takeshi’s gaze on her but couldn’t look at him, too fixated on the violent scene.

“Any other fighters?” a prisoner yelled out.

People clapped, and the crowd buzzed with excitement and adrenaline. Khalani doubted anyone wanted to enter the pit after that murderous affair, and she didn’t have the stomach to endure another bloody presentation .

She finally pulled her eyes away and turned to Serene. “C’mon, let’s get out of here.”

Serene’s face was still gleaming with exhilaration. “Damn, nothing is going to beat that. Yeah, let’s go.”

Khalani started to turn away, but a shout echoed through the air, the words hitting her like a cement block and anchoring her feet to the floor.

“I challenge Prisoner 317 to a fight!”

Her whole body tensed as she slowly turned. Dana stood in the middle of the pit, her muscular arms folded across her chest and a smug grin etched across her face. The weight of every stare bore into her, and the silence was palpable.

Khalani swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. “What is this, Dana?”

Dana shrugged. “You refuse to answer my questions, and this is what happens. In Braderhelm, you pay with blood.”

Several people whistled and cheered, egging on the fight between two female prisoners. After watching Brock’s brutal demonstration, the last place she wanted to be was in the pit opposite Dana. Khalani had never been in a fight, and Dana was a whole foot taller than her.

She would even bet against herself.

She glanced at Takeshi, and his expression was hard as stone. She noticed him imperceptibly shake his head as if to tell her not to engage.

“I don’t accept,” she stated in a firm voice. Multiple people booed and called her choice words. Khalani ignored the callous chatter and stood her ground.

Dana’s mouth twisted in a cruel smile, and she grabbed a small picture from her pocket that sealed a dagger in Khalani’s heart. It was the picture of her parents. Her only photo of them. Every muscle in her body locked into place.

How did she get that?

Dana flipped the back of the picture over to her writings. She chuckled. “Looks like someone has been crying to sleep at night. Writing in your diary like a baby. This is sad, even for you. Your parents are better off dead, so they wouldn’t see what their pathetic daughter grew up to become.”

Dana held the picture in front of her and ripped the most precious item she owned into multiple pieces.

The dull roar of laughter invaded her senses as the broken image of her parents floated to the ground.

She couldn’t move.

Could barely breathe.

Her ears pounded, and all the blood rushed to her head as her body froze in quiet shock. Her vision narrowed and blackened.

The sight of the shattered scraps on the floor, like puzzle pieces that could never be put back together, screamed in the hollow abyss of her mind. The emotion slowly started to churn to something deeper and chaotic. Deadlier.

Her fists were closed so tightly that her knuckles felt like they could burst out of her skin. She vaguely remembered Serene pulling on her arm, but her attention wasn’t there. She had tunnel vision. Dana was the only object of her focus, and at that moment she wanted her dead.

Without a word, Khalani lowered herself into the fighting pit.

Khalani glanced at the torn picture on the dirt. The last thing she cared for in the world was destroyed, and rage was another entity beside her. There was no thought. No logic. No strategy. Just an innate need to hurt.

She placed herself in the center and held her fists up. The crowd’s laughter turned to violent cheering, but she blocked out the sound. Her only goal was to inflict maximum pain.

Dana slowly circled her. Khalani moved the opposite way, eyes locked on her target, wanting her blood to coat the floor next to the broken pieces of her heart.

“Let’s go, Dana!!”

“C’mon, Khalani!”

She shuffled closer—not as gracefully as Brock—and tried to take the first shot at Dana’s face. She didn’t know how to properly punch, just closed her fist tight and swung upward, yelling out . She put her whole body into the swing, but missed entirely, her punch connecting with nothing but air particles .

Dana shifted to the right and retaliated with a vicious right hook. Her fist connected with Khalani’s head, slamming in her ear. She immediately lost focus and stumbled back. The pain didn’t register. She had too much adrenaline flowing through her.

She regained her balance and rushed forward, throwing a haymaker Dana effortlessly ducked. Dana threw a counterpunch that sent Khalani spinning to the outer edge of the circle.

Blood trickled down her nose and grey spots entered her vision.

She tried to catch her breath, but the prisoners behind her leaned down and pushed her back into the center. She stumbled forward unable to see the fist before it slammed into her nose, knocking her flat to the ground.

The crowd roared.

“Finish her!”

“End it!”

“Get up, Khalani!!”

She could still fight. She couldn’t let Dana get away with this.

Don’t give up.

Don’t give up.

Khalani spat out blood as she stood on shaky legs.

The crowd hollered at an ear-splitting volume, and she vaguely recognized Takeshi standing on the perimeter with a scary expression. She thought she saw him pointing to the ground as if telling her to stay down. But she couldn’t be sure because the room was starting to spin.

Why were three Dana’s suddenly standing before her?

She shook her head, trying to clear her vision. Dana held a hand before her, gesturing as if to say “Come at me.”

She held her fists up and pushed forward, the spectators going wild. Dana gave an ugly smile as Khalani put her head down and charged ahead. She tried pushing Dana to the ground with her body this time. It seemed like a decent plan in her head, but Dana used Khalani’s body weight against her, shoving her to the dirty floor.

She was on her hands and knees, and cool drips of blood ran down her face. The red droplets crashed to the ground—weakness leaving her body—in slow motion. The thick drops cascaded around her, like the picture of her parents.

When it cracked and tore, it was really her ripping apart.

A foot connected with her face, and she couldn’t see anything anymore.