by Brenda Poppy
“He’s been betraying us all along,” she gritted through barred teeth, letting more able-bodied members restrain him as he tried uselessly to flee. Ansel and Coal each took hold of a shoulder, forcefully encouraging him to stay where he was. He struggled but eventually saw the futility and went limp, resigning himself to his fate.
Burn watched as her sister absorbed the information, her expression shifting from confusion to understanding to rage. With a small nod to Burn, Scar turned to face Raqa. In three long strides, she was across the room. Before anyone knew what was happening, she’d punched the man squarely in the jaw, sending his head flying back with a painful snap.
A small cheer went up around the room, and she smiled, evidently proud of herself. To be honest, Burn was proud of her, too.
✽✽✽
Burn was exhausted. It had been a trying few days, sapping her energy both physically and mentally until she felt like a shell of herself.
Following the battle, they’d relocated to one of the safe houses that had been exempt from Raqa’s espionage. There, they’d been able to regroup, gaining strength and willpower and securing some desperately needed rest.
Her leg was healing slowly, aided by the careful administrations of the healer, Crete, who had blessedly made it through the battle in one piece. After they’d removed the bullet from her leg, he’d been able to close the wound enough to stop the bleeding and start her on the path to recovery. It still hurt like hell, and she couldn’t walk without the support of a rather ugly old cane, but it would heal. She just had to give it time.
Others hadn’t been so lucky.
Altogether, the Lunaria and the refugees had lost roughly a quarter of their ranks. Like Mika and his mother. And the man who had wanted so badly to see his daughter. And so many others who had counted on Burn to bring them home. Many more had survived, reuniting with their families and finding their way back home. Some had even stayed on, pledging their loyalty and their fealty to the group that had saved them.
Still, the losses weighed on Burn. She felt like she should have done more to protect them, or else never have convinced them to join her in the first place. Nara told her that that way of thinking would get her nowhere, that those people had known the risk they were taking. Yet she didn’t feel like she’d ever truly forgive herself for their deaths.
She was coming to see that this was the true burden of leadership. People put their lives into her hands and, no matter how hard she tried, she could never hold onto them all. Some of them were bound to slip through her fingers, and it was up to her to make sure that their deaths weren’t in vain.
Burn had spent the hours and days since the battle putting her gift to use in hopes of salvaging the Lunaria’s mission. One by one, she’d screened the members, sifting through their thoughts in search of any acts of defiance, any hints of treachery. But it appeared that Raqa had been acting alone, a sole insurgent in a society of rebels.
Yet even a man acting alone can do an untold amount of damage. Most of the members’ identities were compromised, as were many of their safe houses and undercover missions. They’d been crippled, brought to their knees by one man and forced into the darkness.
Then again, the darkness wasn’t always a bad place to be. Under the threat of discovery, the Lunaria had been forced together, pushed to re-examine their priorities and their problems, and pressed into finding new ways to resolve them.
Burn wanted to be part of that solution. In fact, she’d begged to help, needing to surround herself with ideas and immerse herself in change. Yet her gift made her useful in other ways.
No one was certain how long their souped-up powers would last. Without direct exposure to the planet’s harsh atmosphere, Burn’s mind-reading could start to dwindle in a matter of days. It wasn’t a situation anyone had ever experienced before, and no one was quite sure how it worked, but they weren’t going to let the opportunity pass them by.
That was how Burn had ended up in a tiny cell, staring into Raqa’s mind. It wasn’t a pleasant task. She didn’t want to see behind his eyes, to witness the treachery he’d taken part in, but she was the only one who could manage it. So she sat there, hour after hour, combing through his thoughts.
After two days, she knew Raqa better than he knew himself. His childhood, his family, his gift. Burn had once thought he resembled Scar, that their minds functioned in similar ways, but she had been wrong. Raqa’s thoughts were dark, and his gift was fueled by the creation of discord rather than the creation of beauty. He wanted to see others suffer. He wanted to be part of it.
Burn tore herself away from his mind, relishing the absence of his poisonous thoughts. Rubbing her eyes, she got unsteadily to her feet, her leg protesting the sudden change in position.
Raqa sat in front of her, chained to the wall. He looked gaunt and hollow, with dark circles under his eyes and a deep purple bruise climbing his jawline. Over the last several days, Burn had shoved her consciousness into him, tearing him inside out as she’d sifted through his memories. She wasn’t sorry for the toll it had taken. He deserved it – along with so much more. Thankfully, Burn had an idea of how the Lunaria could repay him.
Turning, Burn knocked on the door to the makeshift cell, beckoning the guard to let her out. But before he could get there, Raqa spoke, yanking Burn’s attention back to him.
“You’ll never win,” he croaked, shaking his head in disdain.
Burn was half surprised that he had enough strength left to speak – and enough gall left to bait her so blatantly. Instead of reacting, however, she merely stared at him, a blank expression plastered on her face. Behind her, the door opened as the guard finally reached it, but she didn’t move, focusing her attention on the traitor at her feet.
“They are stronger and smarter and more coordinated than you will ever be. They will always be a step ahead,” he spat, daring her to fight back.
Burn didn’t respond. It helped that she could see the words before he spoke them, see them forming in his head, filled with malice and disdain. Yet she let him get them out, let him speak, let him believe he had power.
“I’m not sorry for siding with them,” he continued, proud of himself for his small display of courage. “I bet on the right horse. One day soon, they will crush you. And you will have nothing to show for your actions – nothing but blood and pain and carnage. They will rip you to shreds, and I’ll be there to see it all, watching as they tear you limb from limb.”
“No one is coming for you,” Burn said evenly, the corners of her mouth twitching upward in a satisfied smirk.
“Of course they are,” Raqa shot back, clearly agitated. “I’ve been indispensable to the Peace Force. Once they notice I’m gone, they’ll know you’ve taken me, and they won’t stop searching until they find you.”
Burn bent down to Raqa’s level, her eyes boring into his. “They don’t care about you. They don’t care about anyone. All that matters to them is power.” She could see that Raqa wanted to fight back, but she raised her hand to silence him.
“I can guarantee you that no one will notice you’re gone. You will rot in this cell, and no one will care – not your family or your friends or your precious Peace Force. Because we are stronger than you know, and we won’t let anyone stand in our way.”
She got to her feet, the movement sending a shock of pain through her leg. She swallowed the cry that rose to her lips and strode out the door, refusing to show weakness.
Once she was clear of the cell, she breathed a sigh of relief, closing her eyes and enjoying the luxury of silence. After a long moment, she roused herself and began her climb to the upper floor, leaning heavily on her cane for support. Cresting the top of the stairs, she took a second to recover before following the sound of conversation to the front of the house.
Turning the corner into the main room, Burn could see that congress was in session. The committee that had been convened to find a solution to their current woes sat in a circle, debating their next move.
Debating, but not deciding.
Burn stepped into the circle, interrupting a man who was proposing that they storm the Peace Station in hopes that the element of surprise would grant them success. Scar sat on the opposite side of the circle, showering silent censure on the man and his idiotic plan. Burn gave her sister a brief smile before looking around at the rest of the circle.
Meera, Cali, Hale, and Ansel were also present, along with Nara and a few delegates from the wildlands. The rest of the circle was comprised of tenured Lunaria operatives, who considered her carefully.
“We can’t turn Raqa on the Peace Force,” she began, getting straight to the point – a tactic she knew Scar would appreciate. “And he would never agree to being a triple agent, even if we thought we could trust him. But the good thing is, we don’t have to turn him in order to use him.”
The group stared at her, their tired minds not following her train of thought. So she connected the dots for them.
“Have any of you met Eyana?” She glanced around the circle, seeing several members nod. Others merely looked at her in confusion, unsure what this new topic had to do with the last.
“Eyana can transform anyone into anyone else,” she clarified. “Eyana can turn someone into Raqa. So instead of a double agent serving the Peace Force, we have a double agent serving the Lunaria. We feed them lies, misdirects, half-truths. We place them right where we want them.”
Nara smiled at her encouragingly, seeing where she was going. Others, however, weren’t so certain.
“But changing someone’s face won’t convince them,” Ansel piped up, always ready to take the dissenting role. “This person would have to live Raqa’s life, do his job, go home to his family. They’d have to be convincing on every level.”
Burn tilted her head and smirked, prepared for this particular argument. “Good thing I know everything there is to know about him. Anyone we send in can be briefed on his entire life.”
“It’s an interesting idea,” Meera chimed in, adding her voice to the mix. “But it’ll still be risky. You can never fully prepare someone for a role like this. Even if you think you know everything about him, there will still be hurdles. Whoever takes up this position will be in great danger. Any missteps could spell disaster – or even death.”
Burn thought about that for a beat, her excitement tempered by Meera’s wise words.
“The risks are significant,” she acknowledged, nodding slowly. “But this could be the opportunity we’ve been waiting for. The Peace Force trusts Raqa. He’s provided them good intel. They’ll listen to what he has to say. And they might even reveal their own plans against us in hopes that Raqa will help the force facilitate them. We could learn more than we have in a year. Who knows? Maybe we could even get enough intel to take them down.”
The room went quiet as the group considered her speech. Glancing around at her colleagues and friends, she willed them to accept her words, to see the possibilities beyond the perils.
After a minute of silent debate, Meera slowly rose from her chair and plodded to Burn’s side. The move was oddly reassuring, and Burn found herself gulping down a lump in her throat.
“I think Burn’s plan is a good one,” her friend stated, smiling grimly at the group. “We’ve been put in difficult circumstances. Our numbers are diminished, our identities compromised, our friends and families endangered. If one man was able to do all of that to us, just think what he could do for us. This could finally tip the odds in our favor. This could be the beginning of the end.”
Murmurs of conversation swept across the space as people considered their options. On the one hand, they could do nothing, lying in wait for the Peace Force to find them and finish the job. On the other, they could act, seizing their chance to secure a spy in the ranks of their enemies. For Burn, the decision was simple.
When she sensed the deliberations were nearing their end, Burn called for a vote. “All in favor, please raise your hands,” she declared, casting a glance around the room.
The mood was tentative at first, but it quickly transformed into resolution. One by one, hands went up around the circle until nearly all of them were raised. Burn nodded in acceptance.
“Motion passed,” she said, a sliver of gratification thrumming through her. “Now we just have to decide who to send in.”
It was a simple statement, yet it sent the room back into a cold silence. No one wanted to be the one to give up their identity for his, to forfeit the safety of the shadows for the danger of the front lines. Burn let her eyes drift once more around the room, seeking a delegate, an envoy, a spy. Yet all hands had mysteriously dropped as the once-brave soldiers shied away from the role.
Then a voice behind her broke the silence and stole her breath in one fell swoop.
“I’ll do it,” said Hale, rising to enforce his offer.
Burn didn’t want to turn, didn’t want to face him. She knew it was selfish, but she didn’t want it to be Hale. Yet the others were already nodding their agreement, voicing their praise for his sacrifice. They knew he was a good fit, and they made their approval clear.
Reluctantly she turned, raising her head to look at him. The eyes that met hers were soft yet resolute. He had made up his mind, and there was no changing it. She could see that clearly.
Still, she had to fight against the urge to bite back, to deny him his chance to change the tides of war. She almost regretted proposing the motion, having not foreseen this conclusion – or the toll it would take on her.
Finding herself unable to speak, Burn simply gave a tight-lipped smile, devoid of cheer, and nodded. It was resignation more than approval, an understanding rather than acceptance. This was his choice, and it wasn’t her place to stop him.
There was no need to vote on Hale’s appointment to the role. Since he was the only candidate, his offer was taken as fact, and the meeting quickly tapered, devolving into a string of well-wishes and hopes for his safe return. Then one by one the crowd thinned, each member seeking solitude to contemplate their near escape. Because their identities were safe; their lives would continue. The same could not be said for Hale.
Before Burn knew it, they were alone, surrounded by nothing but silence and empty chairs.
“Burn, I…” Hale began, but she shook her head to stop him.
“You don’t need to explain,” she said, staring up at his rough face and trying to memorize its curves. “I know why you did it. I can see it in your mind.”
“But I want to tell you. I want to explain,” he responded, seeking approval in her eyes.
Burn shrugged as a wave of exhaustion rolled over her. Suddenly, standing required too much effort, so she made her way to the curve of chairs and collapsed, the metal groaning under her sudden weight. Hale sat gently on the seat next to her, angling his body toward hers with his hands in his lap.
“I love you,” he said simply, his eyes locked steadfastly to hers.
Even though Burn had heard it in his mind, out loud those words had a power, a presence that beckoned to her and begged her to respond. She resisted their call, however, unwilling to be sidetracked by their lure.
“So that means you have to leave?” she asked, sounding tired and worn.
“It means I want to be better. A better man, a better leader. And to do that I can’t let someone else risk their life for us – not when I could do the job just as well, if not better. I’ve been in someone else’s body. I know what that’s like, and I know how to handle it. And I’ll still have my strength. If anything goes wrong, I am the best suited to get out of there alive.”
Burn knew what he said was true, but that didn’t make his choice any easier.
“Don’t you see?” he continued, as if begging her to understand. “I’m finally certain of something. I know what I need to do. And that is all thanks to you. You gave me the strength to be the kind of leader the Lunaria need. You gave me a reason to fight.”
“I don’t want you to leave,” Burn responded, itching to reach
out and clasp his hands in hers. “I need you.”
Hale let out a light chuckle, and this time the low rumble made Burn’s heart tighten, as if it were trying to hold onto the sound.
“You don’t need anyone,” he said, shaking his head as he smiled.
✽✽✽
Burn and Scar sat in silence on the cool ground. They didn’t need to talk, despite the fact that each had so much to say. In that moment, none of it seemed important.
What mattered was that they were there. Together. The rest would fall into place in time.
For now, words seemed too mundane, too thin, too empty to describe their fullness. It was as if, in each other’s company, order had been restored and balance regained amidst the howling storm.
That’s not to say they felt no sadness. They mourned in their own ways, each grieving the people they’d been and the parts of themselves they’d lost along the way. Yet they rejoiced in what they’d found.
After an eternity of stillness, Burn was the first to speak.
“Dad…didn’t make it,” she began, barely managing to speak the words before their power overcame her.
Scar simply nodded, speaking volumes despite her silence.
“He was trying to get back to us,” she continued, as much for her own benefit as for Scar’s. Out in the wildlands, she hadn’t had the chance to fully process the loss, to give in to the anguish and drown in the despair. Now it stared at her, willing her to look, to feel.
Again, Scar nodded, taking solace in the silence.
“He told them about us, though – the people of the wildlands. He said that I was brave, and you were clever. And together we’d change the world.”
Scar finally chose that moment to speak. “He was wrong,” she said plainly.