Page 24

Arie

T he roar of mechanical demons echoes through the still morning. Their lights are blinding, and I close my eyes as I struggle to keep my head above the surface of the water. The last of the Mother’s moon slices through the trees and glints off the silver beasts.

Behind me, I hear the distant cries of my people call out across the ocean, but it’s only the Mother playing tricks. I am so far from home I can no longer see the vast island I have lived my whole life on.

As frightened as I am of the unknown, of leaving my sisters, I reach out my hand, desperate for the men on the land beasts to see my flailing, but I can barely keep myself afloat any longer and my head bobs under the water with the weight.

My tired legs kick once, twice, and then rough sand scrapes my toes and I gasp in relief. I move faster, spurred on by the bank and the promise of dry land beyond, but the men have already passed, disappearing on the long stretch of road away from me.

I collapse onto the sand and catch my breath.

I should move. It isn’t safe to stay here.

The Brotherhood could be looking for me, but my body succumbs to the exhaustion, and I stare up at the starry sky and pray the Mother will forgive me for taking Prophet Job’s life and for all of the rules I’ve broken.

And if she doesn’t, at very least I hope my death is mercifully swift.