on internet?
Too dangerous. Is there a way to do so that eludes the Mogs?
If so, will any of the others even see it?
John is on the run. Ever checking internet?
Does Adelina know something that I don’t?
Can I bring it up to her without being obvious?
The pen hovers over the page. The internet and Adelina, my only two ideas, neither of which seems promising. What more can I do, though? Everything else seems as futile as walking up the mountain and sending smoke signals into the air. But I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something—some crucial element that’s so obvious it’s staring me right in the face.
The teacher drones on. I close my eyes and think it all through. Nine Garde. Nine Cêpan. An airship that brought us to Earth, the same airship to take us back eventually, hidden somewhere on Earth. All I remember about it is that we landed in a remote place in the midst of a thunderstorm. A charm was cast to protect us from the Mogadorians, which went into effect only when we scattered, and that only works if we stay away from each other. But why? A charm that keeps us apart seems pretty counterintuitive in helping us fight and defeat the Mogadorians. What’s the point in it? While asking myself this question my mind stumbles on something else. I close my eyes and let the logic carry me.
We were meant to hide, but for how long? Until our Legacies developed and we had the tools to fight, to win. What’s the one thing we’re able to do when that first Legacy finally arrives?
The answer seems too obvious to be correct. With the pen still in my hand, I write the only answer I can come up with:
The Chest
Chapter Ten
I NO LONGER SLEEP WITHOUT NIGHTMARES. Every night I’m stricken by Sarah’s face, there for only a second before it’s swallowed by darkness, followed by her calling out for help. No matter how furiously I search, she’s nowhere to be found. She keeps calling, a scared voice, bleak and alone, but I can never find her.
And then there’s Henri, his body twisted and smoking as he looks at me, knowing our end together has finally come. It’s never fear I see in his eyes, or regret, or sadness, but rather pride, relief, and love. He seems to tell me to go on, to fight, to win. Then, right at the end, his eyes widen in a plea for more time. “Coming here, to Paradise, it wasn’t by chance,” he says again, and I still have no idea what he means. Then, “I wouldn’t have missed a second of it, kiddo. Not for all of Lorien. Not for the whole damn world.” This is my curse, that every time I dream of Henri I’m forced to watch him die. Over and over again.
I see Lorien, the days before the war, the jungles and oceans I’ve dreamed of a hundred times. Myself as a kid, running wild through the tall grass while those around me smile and laugh, unaware of the horrors to come. Then I see the war, the destruction, the killing, and the blood. Sometimes, on nights like tonight, I have distinct visions of what I believe is the future.
My eyes aren’t closed for long before I’m whisked away. And even as it begins, I feel myself entering a landscape I know I’ve never seen before, but still find familiar.
I run down a pathway lined with litter and debris. Broken glass. Burned plastic. Twisted, rusted steel. Acrid mist fills my nose and causes my eyes to water. Decaying buildings stand tall against the gray sky. A dark, stagnant river lurks to my right. There’s commotion up ahead. The sounds of yelling and metallic clattering swell in the thick air. I come to an angry mob surrounding a tarmac where a large airship prepares for takeoff. I go through a barbed-wire gate and enter the airstrip fenced off from the crowd.
The tarmac is marked with small rivulets the color of magma. Mogadorian soldiers keep the crowd at bay while swarms of scouts ready the ship, an onyx orb hovering in midair.
The crowd roars against the fence as soldiers knock them back. They’re smaller than the
Too dangerous. Is there a way to do so that eludes the Mogs?
If so, will any of the others even see it?
John is on the run. Ever checking internet?
Does Adelina know something that I don’t?
Can I bring it up to her without being obvious?
The pen hovers over the page. The internet and Adelina, my only two ideas, neither of which seems promising. What more can I do, though? Everything else seems as futile as walking up the mountain and sending smoke signals into the air. But I can’t help but feel like I’m missing something—some crucial element that’s so obvious it’s staring me right in the face.
The teacher drones on. I close my eyes and think it all through. Nine Garde. Nine Cêpan. An airship that brought us to Earth, the same airship to take us back eventually, hidden somewhere on Earth. All I remember about it is that we landed in a remote place in the midst of a thunderstorm. A charm was cast to protect us from the Mogadorians, which went into effect only when we scattered, and that only works if we stay away from each other. But why? A charm that keeps us apart seems pretty counterintuitive in helping us fight and defeat the Mogadorians. What’s the point in it? While asking myself this question my mind stumbles on something else. I close my eyes and let the logic carry me.
We were meant to hide, but for how long? Until our Legacies developed and we had the tools to fight, to win. What’s the one thing we’re able to do when that first Legacy finally arrives?
The answer seems too obvious to be correct. With the pen still in my hand, I write the only answer I can come up with:
The Chest
Chapter Ten
I NO LONGER SLEEP WITHOUT NIGHTMARES. Every night I’m stricken by Sarah’s face, there for only a second before it’s swallowed by darkness, followed by her calling out for help. No matter how furiously I search, she’s nowhere to be found. She keeps calling, a scared voice, bleak and alone, but I can never find her.
And then there’s Henri, his body twisted and smoking as he looks at me, knowing our end together has finally come. It’s never fear I see in his eyes, or regret, or sadness, but rather pride, relief, and love. He seems to tell me to go on, to fight, to win. Then, right at the end, his eyes widen in a plea for more time. “Coming here, to Paradise, it wasn’t by chance,” he says again, and I still have no idea what he means. Then, “I wouldn’t have missed a second of it, kiddo. Not for all of Lorien. Not for the whole damn world.” This is my curse, that every time I dream of Henri I’m forced to watch him die. Over and over again.
I see Lorien, the days before the war, the jungles and oceans I’ve dreamed of a hundred times. Myself as a kid, running wild through the tall grass while those around me smile and laugh, unaware of the horrors to come. Then I see the war, the destruction, the killing, and the blood. Sometimes, on nights like tonight, I have distinct visions of what I believe is the future.
My eyes aren’t closed for long before I’m whisked away. And even as it begins, I feel myself entering a landscape I know I’ve never seen before, but still find familiar.
I run down a pathway lined with litter and debris. Broken glass. Burned plastic. Twisted, rusted steel. Acrid mist fills my nose and causes my eyes to water. Decaying buildings stand tall against the gray sky. A dark, stagnant river lurks to my right. There’s commotion up ahead. The sounds of yelling and metallic clattering swell in the thick air. I come to an angry mob surrounding a tarmac where a large airship prepares for takeoff. I go through a barbed-wire gate and enter the airstrip fenced off from the crowd.
The tarmac is marked with small rivulets the color of magma. Mogadorian soldiers keep the crowd at bay while swarms of scouts ready the ship, an onyx orb hovering in midair.
The crowd roars against the fence as soldiers knock them back. They’re smaller than the
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