only see a god. Blaine is a man you can look up to. A man you can trust your life with.
"Rise, Children," Blaine says.
The individual does as commanded. How can he not? He owes his life to Blaine. The Children of Mutanity had taken him in, made him realize that mutations are nothing to be feared but embraced. The gods had it all wrong–if they ever existed in the first place. If mutants truly are such horrid abominations, why would the gods turn every singly living thing on this planet into one? If a god wanted to destroy its creation, why not just do it? Why make your creation do the dirty work for you?
Maybe the gods don't have that kind of power, he thinks .
He shakes his head.
The idea contradicts the very concept of an all powerful entity. All he knows is that these mutations are a blessing, and that the one responsible for them will be rewarded when the time comes.
"Welcome to the Children of Mutanity," Blaine finishes, placing a hand on the individual’s shoulder, looking deeply into his eyes. He becomes lost in that gaze. "I know you will do great things in this new world. What is your name, Child?"
He opens his mouth to answer, but is cut off by screams and shouts erupting from the gathered onlookers under the pavilion. There are about five hundred of them here, but there are other sects all over Eversummer. And Blaine leads them all. Thousands of individuals, all looking for the same thing: stability in an unstable world.
"Blaine!" an exasperated voice calls out. He looks and sees the cr owd parting as a ragged woman shambles toward them. At first, he takes the discoloring of her skin as part of her mutation–she is covered in boils–but realizes as she approaches that she is actually covered in dried blood and dark, puffy bruising.
A large man standing at the stage entrance cuts her off with crossed arms, his skin mottled and peeling as if from a bad sunburn. "You will address him as High Deacon!" the man insists, the woman falling to her knees before the platform.
"I have urgent news, High Deacon!" the woman pleads. The bodyguard turns to Blaine, who nods assent.
"What is it?" Blaine asks.
"I know w here the last human is," she answers.
The crowd erupts into gasps, which Blaine waves down.
"Go on," he allows.
"My party was ambushed by a group of thugs, just south of the Great Canyonway. I was the only one to survive. The last human was among them."
Blaine raises an eyebrow. "And what did the last human look like?" he asks, clearly skeptical.
The woman's demeanor brightens. "Short, thin, red hair, blue eyes, perfect skin. A pure human."
The desc ription kindles something within the individual, but he ignores it for the moment.
"A pure woman ," the newcomer adds. "They hijacked one of our plow machines and headed south, toward Venecici."
Blaine pauses, the silence seeming to stretch on to infinite. "If this new world is to survive," he finally says, "we must eradicate any and all vestiges of the old." He pauses again, considering. "Has anyone here ever traveled to Venecici?"
The individual puts his hand to the sky instantly.
After all, he'd traveled to almost all the southern cities on ore runs for the mine. "I have," he says aloud. Other hands had shot into the air, but he’s already on the stage next to Blaine.
Blaine smiles. "You already prove yourself worthy, Child," he says. "Before we were interrupted, I asked for your name. I would hear it now."
The crowd seems on the verge of a collective breath.
"Jude," he replies with a smile that never touches his eyes. "I can take you to the last human."
Those eyes are nearly vacant.
PART II: THE SOUTH
15 .
Two days later.
"I love you, Juno Quinn."
"I...I..."
The tide s rise higher, now coming up to and covering their ankles. When they'd arrived, the area around the Box was dry, soft beach sand. But the waves are getting bigger, more violent, even though there's no real wind to
"Rise, Children," Blaine says.
The individual does as commanded. How can he not? He owes his life to Blaine. The Children of Mutanity had taken him in, made him realize that mutations are nothing to be feared but embraced. The gods had it all wrong–if they ever existed in the first place. If mutants truly are such horrid abominations, why would the gods turn every singly living thing on this planet into one? If a god wanted to destroy its creation, why not just do it? Why make your creation do the dirty work for you?
Maybe the gods don't have that kind of power, he thinks .
He shakes his head.
The idea contradicts the very concept of an all powerful entity. All he knows is that these mutations are a blessing, and that the one responsible for them will be rewarded when the time comes.
"Welcome to the Children of Mutanity," Blaine finishes, placing a hand on the individual’s shoulder, looking deeply into his eyes. He becomes lost in that gaze. "I know you will do great things in this new world. What is your name, Child?"
He opens his mouth to answer, but is cut off by screams and shouts erupting from the gathered onlookers under the pavilion. There are about five hundred of them here, but there are other sects all over Eversummer. And Blaine leads them all. Thousands of individuals, all looking for the same thing: stability in an unstable world.
"Blaine!" an exasperated voice calls out. He looks and sees the cr owd parting as a ragged woman shambles toward them. At first, he takes the discoloring of her skin as part of her mutation–she is covered in boils–but realizes as she approaches that she is actually covered in dried blood and dark, puffy bruising.
A large man standing at the stage entrance cuts her off with crossed arms, his skin mottled and peeling as if from a bad sunburn. "You will address him as High Deacon!" the man insists, the woman falling to her knees before the platform.
"I have urgent news, High Deacon!" the woman pleads. The bodyguard turns to Blaine, who nods assent.
"What is it?" Blaine asks.
"I know w here the last human is," she answers.
The crowd erupts into gasps, which Blaine waves down.
"Go on," he allows.
"My party was ambushed by a group of thugs, just south of the Great Canyonway. I was the only one to survive. The last human was among them."
Blaine raises an eyebrow. "And what did the last human look like?" he asks, clearly skeptical.
The woman's demeanor brightens. "Short, thin, red hair, blue eyes, perfect skin. A pure human."
The desc ription kindles something within the individual, but he ignores it for the moment.
"A pure woman ," the newcomer adds. "They hijacked one of our plow machines and headed south, toward Venecici."
Blaine pauses, the silence seeming to stretch on to infinite. "If this new world is to survive," he finally says, "we must eradicate any and all vestiges of the old." He pauses again, considering. "Has anyone here ever traveled to Venecici?"
The individual puts his hand to the sky instantly.
After all, he'd traveled to almost all the southern cities on ore runs for the mine. "I have," he says aloud. Other hands had shot into the air, but he’s already on the stage next to Blaine.
Blaine smiles. "You already prove yourself worthy, Child," he says. "Before we were interrupted, I asked for your name. I would hear it now."
The crowd seems on the verge of a collective breath.
"Jude," he replies with a smile that never touches his eyes. "I can take you to the last human."
Those eyes are nearly vacant.
PART II: THE SOUTH
15 .
Two days later.
"I love you, Juno Quinn."
"I...I..."
The tide s rise higher, now coming up to and covering their ankles. When they'd arrived, the area around the Box was dry, soft beach sand. But the waves are getting bigger, more violent, even though there's no real wind to
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