When the dreaded Halve creatures attacked the Dwellers and almost wiped Subterrane Harkibel off the map, my mother stood in front of the cave where all the women and children hid. With just her sword and a ferocity not even the Halves would test, she drove them away.
Those same monsters are the ones who took her from me.
“Sometimes it helps to talk about those who are no longer with us,” Brice’s mother says. “I know it’s been difficult for you, with the Captain gone so much. If you’d like, you could talk to me.”
What could I say?
I could say I’ll never forgive myself for letting this happen to her…that I should have done something…something more than cower and hide. I should have been brave like her.
I could say I don’t know how to do any of this without her.
“Hemera?”
I start at the sound of my name.
Brice’s mother is looking at me, her forehead creased in concern. “Is there anything you’d like to get off your chest?”
I try to swallow, but my throat is too dry. I reach for the waterskin hanging over my shoulder, but my hands are trembling too much for me to take hold of it.
I stare down at the ground. “No,” I say. “There’s nothing.”
✽✽✽
I couldn’t stop the tears that were leaking from my eyes as I ran out of the cave. Destinel had wanted to come with me, but I told her I just needed some time alone.
Destinel understands what it’s like to lose parents, but her parents died from illness. My best friend can’t possibly imagine what it’s like to watch your own mother be murdered before your eyes, when you did nothing to stop it….
I might have gone to the Captain’s cave in search of the one person who could understand what I’m feeling, but my father is already gone again—off to some Subterrane somewhere to trade something.
I can’t bear to go back to the sleeping cave I shared with my mother and see her empty bed. So instead, I go down to the lowest level of the Subterrane and close myself inside the small cave that holds the Subterrane’s Dark God shrine.
I kneel at the foot of the biggest statue, lace my fingers together, and ask the Dark God to protect my mother as she takes her first steps into the darkness.
I don’t know how long I stay there, minutes or hours.
A faint rumbling makes me open my eyes. At first, I think it might be the drums beating out a message for the whole Subterrane to hear. But the vibrations aren’t those of the drumbeats.
It isn’t until the support pillars lining the cave begin to tremble that I understand what is happening. The cave, with seven layers’ worth of pressure sitting on top of it, is collapsing.
I fly to my feet as the walls of the cave begin to shudder.
Crack.
Dirt rains down on my head and into my eyes. Panic squeezes against my throat, choking me as the dust finds its way into my lungs. The pillars that support the tunnel shake again. One by one, their solid foundations begin to crumble.
Run, Hemera. Run now.
I’m fast, but my legs are weighed down by grief and fear. There’s already rubble blocking the tunnel out of the cave, and I have to claw my way through the dirt and stones to make a path. In a few more seconds, I’ll be trapped down here, buried underneath seven levels of caves and tunnels.
My screams are drowned out by the sound of debris filling the path. My vision is blurred from the sting of bits of stone.
“Help! Someone help me!”
But there’s no one to hear me. I’m alone.
My lungs scream as I choke on the stale air. Sweat streams down my back, pressing my thick cloak even more tightly to my body. A buzzing sound fills my head. I can’t breathe.
There are too many rocks. The tunnel is impassable, and I’m trapped.
My shaking limbs betray me and I fall to the ground. Two slabs of fallen rock balanced against each other are all that shield me from being completely buried.
The rocks stop falling…for the moment. It won’t be long before they start again. My body is wracked with shivers in spite of the suffocating heat. How much longer until my air runs out?
My heart stops at the sound of muffled voices above me. A giddiness takes hold of me as hope surges in my chest.
“Help! I’m down….”
Rock dust catches in my throat. I double over as far as the cramped space will allow, coughing.
“Please,” I try to yell, but the coughing has stolen my voice.
“Pillar must have broken and caused a chain reaction,” a voice says from above. “The whole tunnel’s caved in. Do you think anyone’s down there?”
No matter how hard I try to scream, I can’t manage anything above a whisper.
“Hemera Harkibel was down there.”
Yes, I’m down here! Please.
The same voice continues, “The Bisecter.” The hatred in this word is like a punch to my already aching gut. “Leave her.”
Acid surges up through my throat. Leave me? They couldn’t….
“She’s my best friend. You help her right this instant or I’ll go down there and get her myself!”
Destinel. Even with all the dirt and stone between us, I know her voice.
“Get the kid out of here,” a voice says.
I hear screaming as Destinel is dragged away.
“Destinel’s right. We can’t let her die regardless of what she is,” someone else argues.
“We might be caught in another cave-in ourselves if we try to save her,” a high-pitched female voice cuts through the others.
“If we save her, we’ll put the entire Subterrane in danger. Let nature take its course.”
No! They can’t just leave me down here to die.
My father would make them rescue me if he was here. If my mother was alive….
Dirt slides down the wall and into my precarious shelter. I cover my face with shaking hands. There is nowhere else for me to go. I’m being buried alive.
“High day’s coming,” someone says. “We’ll send messengers to the Captain and figure out how to clean up this mess later. In the meantime, section off the tunnel so the rest of the Subterrane doesn’t get taken down, too.”
Hysteria edges in all around me. I squeeze my eyes shut, but the darkness behind my eyelids makes me feel like I’m falling.
I will die here.
My eyes snap open at the sound of moving rocks. My cheeks burn as the salt from my tears mixes with the cuts on my face. I wrap my hands around my knees and brace myself for the crush of stones. But the ceiling doesn’t collapse.
“Hang on, Hemera,” a voice calls.
There is scuffling above me, as though stones are being moved one by one.
“One more big one,” the voice calls down, less muffled than it had been before.
There is more movement above me, and then the ceiling begins to collapse.
“Hurry!” Brice yells as he scales down the tumbling rocks and grasps my outstretched hand.
CHAPTER 2
NOW
I light a candle with one hand and slip my other into the belled sleeve of my cloak. Ignoring the material’s clumsy weight as it drapes over me from head to toe, I duck under the low opening of the cave and into the tunnel.
I slink along the path, keeping close to the wall, willing myself to blend in with my surroundings.
If my mother were here, she’d tell me to hold my head up high. But she isn’t. So I keep my gaze down as though there’s something fascinating on the ground in front of me.
My hand reaches unconsciously for the silver key hanging around my neck, the key to my mother’s heart. My fist swallows up the delicate piece of metal, feeling the borrowed strength burrow into my bones.
Two guards pass me on their way to the Outside. Like me, the men’s cloaks are pulled tight about them so every inch of skin will be hidden when we step into the deadly sun. One of them becomes very busy adjusting his gloves the moment he sees me. The other looks at th
e stone ceiling, the covered oil lanterns spaced along the wall…anything to avoid looking at me.
It’s my pitch-black eyes that remind the other Dwellers I don’t belong.
Such a shame, I’ve heard the older women whisper. She’d be a real beauty if it weren’t for those eyes.
I press one hand against the damp earth wall as I walk and clutch my necklace with the other. Something about the closeness of it all makes my chest tight and my breathing sharp. Since the cave-in five years ago that nearly claimed my life, I keep waiting for the ceiling to fall again and bury me alive. Just the memory of the falling earth makes me stumble.
Pick up your feet before you fall and embarrass yourself, Hemera.
The main tunnel of Subterrane Harkibel winds its way up to the surface through seven levels of packed earth passages. I skirt around the edge of the underground lake to avoid the parts slippery with mud. A Dark God statue, the replacement for the one that was swallowed up in the cave-in, stands sentry beside the lake. In a ritual almost as familiar to me as breathing, I kneel in front of the statue.
“We will meet when the darkness comes,” I murmur, repeating the phrase we’re taught before learning even our own names.
Other hooded and cloaked figures do the same, leaving more space around me than necessary as they kneel to pay their respects to the Dark God.
Two drumbeats reverberate through the hard-packed wall. Low day; time for work. Everyone is hurrying now, and I’m crushed against the wall as guards, scouts, and miners crowd into the tunnel. My chest tightens in that familiar, suffocating way. Ever since the cave-in, crowded and dark places make me want to either scream or pass out.
Breathe, Hemera, I command myself.
My hand fumbles for the silver key. I close my eyes for a moment, trying to remember the glint of metal on the cream skin of my mother’s neck. The image is clear enough, but when I try to imagine the sound of her voice when she said, “It’s the key to my heart, darling Mer. And it belongs to you,” the memory is just out of reach.
“Hemera.”
I’m jolted out of the memory at the sound of my name. I realize I’ve been standing in the middle of the tunnel, clutching my necklace, and earning more than a few disapproving stares as the other Dwellers step around me.
Idiot, I tell myself. The last thing I need is to give them any more reasons to shun and avoid me.
“Captain doesn’t want any more emeralds. You’re cutting rubies today.” The head miner shoves a pickax into my hand without looking at me before disappearing back into the crowd.
The gems that grow in the Subterrane’s mines as naturally as weeds in the crop field give us an endless bounty to trade with the other five Subterranes—and endless work. Survival is not for the faint of heart, my father likes to say. My father, Captain Harkibel, is the leader of our Subterrane. Those of us who live in the Subterrane territory, the network of six Subterranes connected by trade routes and shared information, are the Dwellers.
“What a grumpy old toad.” Destinel makes a rude gesture at the head miner’s back. She yawns, slinging an arm over my shoulders. “Want to skip work and rub itching cabbage on Henri’s pillow?”
“Love to.” I grin at the thought. “But if a Dweller shirks her work assignment—”
“Then the delicate balance of the Subterrane’s existence will be threatened,” Destinel finishes. She even links her hands behind her back and paces back and forth in a perfect imitation of the Captain.
I shoulder my pickax. “Those rubies aren’t going to cut themselves, and the healers will probably poison you if you’re late.”
Destinel scowls. “Like those cranky old women need me to mix one more pot of Burn salve,” she mutters.
The scent of yeast and spices wafts through the tunnel leading to the dining cave. My mouth waters, but I won’t be able to collect my ration until after my work assignment. I inhale again, but the scent of bread is gone. There is only the lingering stink of dank earth and worms.
“Say hello to the Outside for me.” Destinel gives me a wave before ducking into one of the smaller tunnels.
The main tunnel is filled with Dwellers now. We look like sand-colored ants, wrapped in our identical cloaks and hurrying uphill to the Outside. The cloaks are heavy and stifling, but they are all that protect us against the Burn. Even during low day, the only time it is safe to leave the Subterrane, a person’s skin will sizzle and blister the moment it meets with direct sunlight.
Although the sun never sets below the horizon, we still use it to keep time. Our working and sleeping hours are marked by the oval path of the sun as it travels overhead from north to south during high day, and then back to north along the horizon during low day. We sleep in the Subterrane, under layers and layers of dirt and rock, when the burning rays of the high day sun make it impossible to venture beyond the walls of the cave.
Dwellers exchange greetings as we wait for the guards to crank open the two sets of stone coverings that keep sunlight from filtering into the Subterrane’s entrance. Some of the children push through narrow gaps to get nearer to the ladders propped against the tunnel’s last, steep incline. There are twelve hours of low day. They cannot be wasted.
I pull on my gloves and tuck them into the belled sleeve of my cloak. A gentle tug on my cloak draws my attention downward. Sirrel, Henri’s younger sister, stares up at me.
“Mama says anyone who looks you straight in the eye will be cursed for six generations.”
“Six generations is very specific.” I squat down until I’m eye level with the little Dweller girl. “If I’m so dangerous, then why are you talking to me?”
Sirrel grins. “I know you’re not evil. Your hair’s too pretty.” She reaches out a finger to stroke the loose curls dangling at my face.
I smile at her. I’ve always gotten along better with the youngest Dwellers than the ones my own age—with the exception of Destinel and Brice, of course. Maybe it’s because they haven’t learned they’re supposed to be afraid of me yet.
“Sirrel!” The girl’s mother shoves her way through the throng of Dwellers, almost knocking a man over in her haste. “What did I tell you about talking to her?” the woman scolds.
If Destinel were here, she’d have something witty and biting to say that would make the woman’s ruddy face turn even redder. If Brice were here, he’d stare her down until she lowered her head in shame.
“Rarr,” I mutter under my breath. For Sirrel’s sake, I bare my teeth like I’m some kind of rabid animal.
Sirrel giggles. Her mother gives me a withering look. She wipes the sleeve of her own cloak over the girl’s hand where it touched my hair.
I try to ignore the familiar hurt that squeezes my heart. Does she think her daughter will catch what I have, like some disease?
“Make way, scouts coming through.”
My breath catches. Even the sound of his voice sends a warm tingle through me.
Brice brushes a hand against me as he passes, reminding me of the first time he touched me. He was grabbing my hand, pulling me out of the landslide of stone and dirt that was trying to swallow me. And then, afterward, he brushed the dirt from my cloak and pulled bits of debris from my hair.
“Stop ogling him.” A girl standing near me rolls her perfect, normal brown eyes at me before turning to her friend. “Like she’d ever have a chance with him.”
They both laugh.
I can feel my pale skin turn scarlet. I swat at an insect buzzing around my face, but I miss and end up slapping my own cheek instead. I duck my head as the two girls laugh harder.
Brice’s beautiful green eyes slide from me to the girls. His jaw tightens. I wait until his attention is on me again and give him a slight shake of my head.
It’s not worth it, I tell him with my eyes. If the Captain found out about us….
“Isn’t he gorgeous?” the girl, still chortling at my expense, asks.
“Brice.” Her friend sighs out his name. “What I wouldn’t give t
o have those arms wrapped around me.”
It’s the best feeling in the world, I imagine telling her. I would know.
“He’s so brave. He’s definitely going to be Captain someday. I wish—”
All conversations stop at the sound of the stone covering to the Outside grating against its hinges.
“Hoods up,” a guard calls.
As if we’re one body instead of many, we draw up the hoods of our cloaks so the stiff brims keep our faces shadowed from any sunlight overhead. Gloves are pulled onto hands, shielding the last bit of skin as sunlight spills onto the path. We surge forward.
“Go in darkness,” I tell the guard. He grunts without meeting my eyes.
It’s these small slights, the ones that add up over the course of hours and days, that remind me I don’t belong…that I’m something different…something wrong.
I climb the ladder and step through the hole in the ground separating Subterrane Harkibel from the Outside. Sweat begins to stream down my back, making me curse the cloak that is both a nuisance and my lifeline.
The crowd of Dwellers thins as some veer off toward the crop fields. Others head down to the river to draw endless buckets of water for the thirsty crops. Under my father’s direction, the growers are constantly experimenting with new varieties of plants that can withstand the sun’s intensity. The blacksmiths are working on special plates of metal, which my father is trying to turn into armor. Thus far, no one has been able to develop armor that will protect us from the Halves but won’t make its wearers melt in the sun. Climb aboard the wheel of change, or be crushed beneath its weight, my father always says.
The scouts are already making their way through the narrow, guarded opening in the stone wall separating the Subterrane from the forest that lies beyond. The rest of us traipse along the weathered path, pickaxes in hand, to the mine.
Rickety ladders lead down into the jewel pit, where buckets attached to ropes wait to be loaded with treasure. The bulk of what we harvest goes to Subterranes Jevin and Aria, which pay in much-needed lamp oil and the special material from which our cloaks are made. The rest are given to the Duskers. Sacrifices to the Dark God, they tell us. But every time they come, more of the jewels are pinned to their gray cloaks, rather than left to rest on their Dark God shrines. If anyone else notices, they don’t say so.
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