Decades ago...

  Scrawny. Bronze. She wasn’t something to gawk at. A crowd roared around her. Half a million fractions bet on her losing.

  Thick. Grey. He was the epitome of masculinity. The purest form of self-destruction. A man obsessed. His fist. The size of her head. His foot. The shape of her chest. Just one step and she’d be crushed to death.

  His fist swung like a rock from a sling. “How slow!” She thought. He flung dirt. She rubbed her eyes.

  His fist kissed her lips. Scent of flowers fill the air. Hum of bugs off the back porch. “I’m alive!” She thought. Again. Taste of treats spilled between her teeth. A bark escaped her lungs. Neck yanked by a chain. Again. Crueler than a death wish. One voice drowned out the rest. Ever-echoing inside her head. ”Can you take it? Huh? Veronica?”

  The champion straddled her. One fist after the other. Lug. Lug. Lug. Blood trickled. Splattered up the barrier. People cheered for the wrong victor.

  Veronica grabbed the man’s fist. A pause. She snickered. “What? Thought I couldn’t take a hit?”

  The champion swung. The ground rattled. She opened her swollen eye and glared up at him. “You call that a punch?” A smile curled up the edge of her lips. “I’ll show you a real punch!” She popped him in the stomach. His spit sprayed across her face. She cackled and kicked him off. He shivered in place. She stood. Cracked her neck. “Never fought a girl before?”

  Rattle. Whisper. Rattle. Stare.

  ”LIKE THIS! SEE? LIKE THIS! THIS IS A REAL PUNCH! SHAHA–SHIT! YOU’RE BLEEDING! CAN YOU TAKE MORE? JUST A LITTLE MORE! ONE MORE HIT! TAKE IT! BE A GOOD BOY! TAKE IT! DON’T STOP FIGHTING! AHAHAH...HUH?”

  Veronica’s eyes darted between the blood dripping from her fists and the remains of the grey man. “Can't you take it? Hehe…” She shook his chest. “Hey!” She picked his arm up, then watched it plop on the ground. “You’re dead.” She scanned the crowd. A grin stretched across her lips. “Red’s my color. Huh?” She spun on her toes and trotted toward the stairs where she claimed the championship belt.

  Veronica made her way through the desolate street. Eyes lusted from the shadows. Every step revealed another set. She bolted into a narrow alley. Squeezed between two walls, then hit a dead-end.

  An obscure figure waded through the shadows. “Good evening.” Her eyes shimmered pink. “I was hoping to catch you before you’d gone.” She stepped closer. “Saw your fight.”

  Veronica snapped back. “What about it?”

  The figure laughed. “I want to take this opportunity and snatch you up before someone else does.”

  Veronica raised a brow. “What do you mean?”

  The woman stepped out of the shadows. Her torso encased in pink metal. A corset tightened with bolts. The bottom half flowed around her waist. Two pink hearts sank beneath her eyes. Her skin reflected the moonlight. “Name’s Nebula. How’d you like a job?”

  “In the underground, the beings live in seclusion and darkness. Humans are the main inhabitants of the tunnels. However, there are other creatures which are far more haunting. Only one being rules them all and she is by far the most deadly monster I’ve ever encountered.”

  Al’Tivolo Phyfa, Journal entry 88, Day 7

  Present day...

  Screams enter the night. Sky full of clouds. Heat bellowing against the road. Creatures claw their way from the ground, grasping for the nearest living thing. A woman with pink eyes and long white hair commands them. “Eat up!”

  A disciple kneels at an altar. Accessories hang from her wrists. Trinkets scatter at her feet. “Hear my prayer…”

  Footsteps approach. Clanging against stone. Sound bouncing between pews. He cackles. “Cease your prayers.” He drops down on top of her. “No one should have to listen to what I’m about to do to you.”

  Through the streets, creatures tear limbs from civilians, and swallow them down piece by piece. No wall can stop them. Hiding isn’t an option. Nothing to pierce the heart of something so vile. Blood runs through the town. Fire broils and a stench arises.

  The pink eyed woman frowns. “Neptune, have you found it?” She glances to her right. The twins stand by, watching from behind their masks. She huffs. “Go and retrieve him.” They nod and dart off.

  The woman struts to the center of the town where a large statue of its founder rests. She snickers, then kicks it over, and stands in its place. The Axeheads gather. Ten in total. The twins throw Neptune at her feet. She glares down at him. “You forget yourself.” Her eyes twitch. “What was it? Lust? Love?”

  Neptune bows and shuts his eyes. The twins whisper to one another. The creatures howl and melt into the ground.

  She tilts her head. “Where is my amulet?” The Axeheads offer her empty hands. She clicks her tongue and rubs her head. “What about him? Anything new?”

  A female Axehead steps forward. Orange eyes lit up beneath her mask. “Send me to Moonlight City.”

  The woman raises a brow. “That disgrace? What makes you think he’d go there, Veronica?”

  Ensure your favorite authors get the support they deserve. Read this novel on Royal Road.

  Veronica touches her chin. “Just a hunch.”

  The woman grumbles, then shrugs. “Whatever. If you run into the rabbit or the scythe, tell them I’m not happy.”

  Veronica pops her neck. “I’ll be sure to deliver your message.” She walks away.

  A smaller Axehead with yellow hair and a small black bar covering his eyes steps forward. “What if he remembers?”

  The woman hums. “What about it?”

  He gulps. “Won’t he…kill us?”

  The woman snickers. “He can try.”

  Melody returned to the Wyre, leaving the cake to haunt me in her absence.

  Pink flowers, flowers which don't bloom.

  Strands of green, stringy and unfair.

  Golden buttons sour in the light.

  Cool yet warm, insecurity whisked in a bowl.

  Seven, five, seven.

  One, six, nine. Half a fraction.

  Until the end of time.

  The infant feels colder. Brown eyes. Black locks. When he's awake, I feel his power thud in my veins. Sludge. Thick and wet. He's so puny.

  Zuna Yako… A collector. Melody never said where he stays, but I bet he's in Moonlight city. The pit. Where virtues fall away and what remains is partly good. If I want information, then I'll have to brawl. I know a place.

  I change the infant's diaper. His stool looks healthy. He seems listless today. I shift to the side and his eyes follow. Wonder what he's thinking about. I hoist him over my head. Those deep brown eyes. How much can he see?

  His thoughts are abstract. Shape and color. Association. Blue is a square like my laptop. Green is oblong like leaves. Yellow is a circle like a light. Sounds represent concepts. Hushing is sleep. Greetings are joyful.

  Infant thoughts are more complex than I realized. Not sure why anyone would want to have a kid. With the way this war is going, Axeheads on the rise and Sentients rallying their troops. What’s Barthelemy planning? Melody has no clue. They need a leader… I’m not him.

  I curl next to the infant. What’s gotten into me? Resurrecting this thing. Bottling his power. I’ve gone off the deep end. And my blood… I wonder if… I go into the kitchen and open the cabinet. The jar rattles, shattering on the floor, and the blood crawls towards me. I grab a cup, then trap it.

  What the hell was it doing? It looked like… little hands… galloping… My stomach twists. I should take this to a lab and run some tests. I could use the facilities at the Wyre. I’d risk getting noticed. Maybe I should ask Karamin in Moonlight City. She might know of a place less crowded. Z3 is always an option…

  I trudge down the steps of my apartment complex. At the bottom of the hill is a pay phone. I check my surroundings, then stick a coin in and dial 7-7-7.

  An old rotary phone rings in a dim room. A man pounds himself into a woman. He grunts and pulls away. She grabs his shoulders. “Don’t!” Her legs lock behind him. “Let it ring!”

  He kisses her, then gets up to answer.

  I hear the sweat in his breath. “8-5-7-3.”

  He sighs. “0-9.” And hangs up. He runs through his bedroom and gathers his clothes.

  The woman sits up and crosses her arms. “Just where the hell do you think you’re going?”

  He pauses to kiss her on the head. “I have to help someone.” He yanks on his pants.

  She scoffs and lights a cigarette. “Finish helping me, you jerk.”

  He pulls a shirt over his head, then puts on a mask. “I have food in the fridge this time.”

  She calls back. “Guess I’m too good for a kiss goodbye!” The door closes.

  I bundle the infant in a sweater and pack supplies in my backpack. There’s no one who can take care of him right now. Theresa and Greene have too much on their plate. No one else is strong like me. I have to bring him along. Knowing the way things are in Moonlight City, Peter won’t take his car anywhere close to the border. I’ll have to walk a few miles.

  Should I bring a change of clothes? Maybe a backup pair just in case. Socks and shoes. Am I forgetting something? I shrug and put my backpack on, then wrap Nathaniel around my chest. I catch my reflection in the mirror. Oh… I brush my cheek. Wear a mask.

  My mask… One I made from bones… The tailbone. My nose. Ribs. My cheeks. Wing of ilium. Sides of my head. Sacrum. Forehead. And the bottom jaw of the first person I killed. An ornament which hangs below my jaw.

  Not many have lived to see this mask. I typically wear a black cloth. With a child strapped to my chest. This will be a deterrent. I hope.

  Peter arrives. He’s driving a silver car. It’s noisy. Neighbors peek through their windows. Doubt most of them have ever seen a car before. I climb inside, sitting behind the passenger seat, and stare into the rearview mirror.

  His fists tighten around the steering wheel. "Where to, boss?"

  I tilt my head. "The pit."

  He jolts, then whips around. "Seriously?" We exchange looks. He faces forward. "You don't mind if I charge double? For insurance."

  I nod. "Would you like to leave your little cellar?"

  Peter grunts. "It's enough for me, but my chick... She's the kind of girl you marry. Can't raise a family in that dump."

  I hum. "You can have my apartment."

  He laughs. "Put a bullseye on my back? No thanks."

  I stroke the infant's cheek. "Where will you go?"

  Peter puts the car in drive. "Far away from you."

  I snort. "Go west."

  He taps on the steering wheel. "Count on it."

  Far away from me? That's what Tatiana said. The last time I saw her... What was it she called herself? Q'an Ijou. The most prolific investigator in the Sentient Armed and Allied Forces (SAAF). We spent a soul-cleaving year together in Z3. Part of Nebula’s initiation ritual for deciding who to promote to the next level. Tatiana would have been an Axehead. Now, she’s a free spirited Monarch. One of the most powerful and ruthless women I’ve ever laid eyes upon.

  At first I thought she’d be useful to ply for information, but once I’d gotten to know her… She struck something within me. The same sad story. One I’ve heard on repeat for 200 years…

  When I was 7, a man came into my village and ate half of my people. Half their arms. Half their legs. Half their bodies. Half their heads. My parents begged. Spare me. Take them instead. He did. Ate all of them. Nothing left.

  His name. Theodore. That's what she told me. My Queen. My savior! Skin glowing a million different ways. Nebula. A woman without sympathy or fear. Governing half a nation.

  One of the many lessons she taught me at 14? How to conquer fear. Nebula brought me on a mission to control one of the sectors Zachariah and his organization took control of. She told me that these people were going to kill all of us. The Wyre turned many settlements into military operated compounds. Miles and miles of war zones. Bodies never stopped piling. My hate for Theodore waned and my desire for Zachariah grew.

  I took hundreds of lives. Every person I ever arrested. Executed.

  Nebula told me that in order to stop the war from progressing, a series of moves had to be made on her part. She said that it is all a game. I didn't understand what she meant, then she slaughtered all but one soldier in Sector A. The only one who she’s ever let live to deliver a message. “Will you kill me when you remember?”

  After that… I was sent into the tunnels. Investigating a secret operation. One I was manipulated into becoming a part of.

  Wonder what became of Tatiana? It’s been so long. I probably wouldn’t recognize her now. Someone that close to Nebula. On the inside of her every step. The war would have been over. My fingers crush the car door. The lives that we could have spared. The time we could have saved. Why did she run? What was she afraid of? Was it really me?

  ”I’m through helping you, Zachariah. You’re using me. The same way she did. I’m done being a puppet. You’ll never see me again. From now on, I’m staying far away from you. The both of you.”

  She was a good girl. Stubborn and methodical. Like Melody.

  Q’an Ijou… Hasty Rabbit.