Renegade: A Young Adult Dystopian

by Mallory McCartney

  The low lanterns on the wall lit his way as the seconds morphed into minutes, and finally Adair reached that looming, familiar door. Gripping the handle, he swung the door inward. His room was simplistic, the bed tucked in the corner, his books piled on his bookcase. Other than that, there was nothing to indicate what he held close to his heart. Locking his eyes on the ivory envelope tucked on his pillow, he moved in a trance, and with trembling hands, he read the inky note slashed before him.

  Tomorrow, noon, in the library – C.

  His father was never a man of many words, but groaning, Adair flopped on his bed in a defeated heap. This was bad. Over the years, he couldn’t bring himself to acknowledge to anyone, let alone talk to anyone about his father’s rantings. About how Roque is weak and his father’s wild dream about him one day becoming king. The Academy was a fool’s dream. About the yelling matches, the hidden bruises, and ashamed tears. Every time, their secret meetings ended in the same defeat. He couldn’t say no, couldn’t pull the hooks of his father’s poison out from him. He had believed it and had embarrassed himself beyond repair with the girl he loved most.

  The Faes and Strattons, building the monarchy. An arranged marriage and a union that would make the world tremble and finally bow. As he grew, Adair had let that dream idle into embers and had pushed more energy in repairing his and Emory’s friendship. He was feared amongst his peers, an outcast, a monster amongst the gifted. Taking a shaky breath, he rolled over, covering his eyes, and begged for sleep to take him. And like every other day, he reminded himself how lucky he was to have the friends he did and the small freedoms he could relish in before he was whisked away into oblivion.

  The trees around him wept blood. Adair stood transfixed as he spun around, taking in the inky black bark stained by the ruby droplets. There were no sounds at all, like the entire world was holding its breath.

  “Hello?”

  He took a tentative step forward, the mossy ground sinking under his weight. There was a strange dampness in the air, thick and cool. The forest was neverending, and Adair was at the heart of it. A high-pitched giggle cut through the air as he jumped, twisting around. A woman with ebony hair stood behind him, her eye sockets stretching wide into deep empty holes. She reached for his heart, her sharp teeth revealed as her lips were pinned back into a permanent grin.

  “It’s so beautiful, isn’t it?”

  “W-who are you?”

  The woman tilted her head slowly to the side, assessing his question. Another giggle erupted behind him and she locked her gaze there. After a beat, she whispered silkily, “Your future, if you choose.”

  Adair had slowly trod backward, his back now flush against the wet bark. The woman sauntered up to him, her features contorting between human and something else as she alluringly breathed.

  “Don’t you want to be powerful, Adair Stratton? Accepted? Loved? The son who is never enough, the student who is feared. Well, I see you, and I do not fear you.”

  His heart raged against his ribcage, trying to break free as Adair whispered, “You’re wrong.” Giggles erupted all around him in the shadows, devouring his words.

  The woman was now face to face with him. A pale hand against his cheek forced him to look at her. Her breath was hot against his skin. “You would be enough if you accepted the darkness within you instead of burying it.”

  Looking down, the ground started to shift and churn, dissolving into a thick smoke, and the world exploded into whispered promises, that sank their sharp claws within his heart. The woman tilted her head, whispering, “Find us, Adair. Find us.” She stepped back, spreading her arms wide, and closing her eyes, fell into the smoke. It hissed and sparked, embers flying up toward the sky.

  Shaking, he lurched forward but not before he realized he was soaked with blood. Crying, he shook his head, whispering, “Not real, this is not real.”

  Blood smeared over his pale skin as he tried to wipe it away, but it piled on thicker and thicker. It ran down his face, and as he looked up through the iron and salt, he realized that the world around him was consumed in flames, devoured and lost to the smoke and ash. As he stood there transfixed, Adair realized that he was in the heart of the fire. And he was laughing.

  He shot up, shivering in a cold sweat, his mouth opening and closing, and he shifted back into reality. Just a dream, it was just a dream. He ran a hand through his black hair, gulping down air and trying to steady his nerves. He closed his eyes and beneath his lids the woman waited for him, her sharp, angular features and beckoning calls. He muttered to himself, “It was not real. Not. Real.”

  Shaking his head, he paced his small room, trying to stop the ice flowing through his veins, and the odd exhilaration that awakened his senses. It was just a nightmare. That felt exceedingly real. He was probably under too much stress, and this was him reacting to it. He wasn’t a monster. He didn’t want more.

  Clutching his face, Adair breathed into his palms, each breath wiping away the darkened forest. Slowly he lowered his hands, taking in his room. It was the same as before, nothing changed. “It was just a bad dream,” he stated to the air blatantly. The quiet of the night pressed back to him, and he resigned himself that he was in no way getting any more sleep tonight. Numbly, he walked over to his dresser, pulling out his normal outfit of black pants, shirt, and a jacket and swiftly peeled his soaked clothes off him. Refreshed, he slipped out of his room, clicking the door softly shut. Through the bay windows, tinges of dawn peeked over the horizon, and he set off down the hallway, knowing exactly where he wanted to be. He passed the classrooms and suites, basically jogging now, the walls feeling too close, too small. Too much like a cage.

  He passed the surveillance room, the different cameras capturing almost every ounce of the school. Dawn was his favorite time of day, the edges of the night chased away, the world still and silent, everyone lost in their dreams. He exploded through the front doors and breathlessly jogged to the edge of the hill, where a small escarpment overlooked the surrounding landscapes. Scaling it easily, he hung his feet and settled in as the sun greeted another day. The Draken Mountains to the east were bathed in gold hues with tinges of pink bleeding into the sky. Dew still clung to the blades of grass, and he watched the world reawaken. Ounce by ounce, the light overtook everything.

  “Couldn’t sleep either, then?”

  Startled, he jumped, nearly falling off the ledge. To his right, the teenage rover sat on the same ledge, his emerald green hair looking more vibrant in the light. He jutted out his chin, looking forward, as he stated, “I’m sorry about my dad.”

  Appraising him, Adair narrowed his eyes, seeing if he was being sarcastic or not. Lifting a dark eyebrow, he said, “He’s not great at making the best first impressions.”

  The boy’s face spilt into a lopsided smile, and his eyes lightened. “So you’re not afraid of us then? The whole sail here, my father prepared me for you bunch of sticklers.” His face twisted as he mimicked his father’s voice. “They aren’t like us, Marquis. Be prepared for the worst, Marquis.”

  Adair barked out a laugh. “Afraid? Most people are afraid of me. But no, I’m not afraid of you.”

  The boy faltered looking forward. “Only the change we bring.”

  Adair rolled his shoulders, turning his attention back to the sunrise. “Change isn’t a bad thing if it’s met with good intentions.”

  He chuckled. “Ah yes, good intentions. I was brought into this life taught to take what I want without a second glance, to always be moving. To dance with the edge of danger and above all do what’s best for me. I don’t think anyone from the Shattered Isles knows what that even means.” He shook his head, standing. “Anyways, I will leave you now to your brooding thoughts.” Swiftly, he hopped off but not before lifting the corners of his mouth with a wicked glint shining in his eyes. “I’m Marquis, by the way. I’m sure I will be seeing you soon.” Gracefully, he bent in a mock bow and with that he strode back up to the Academy, his hands buried in his pockets. He
didn’t look back at Adair once.

  Shaking his head, Adair pushed the strange boy out of his mind. He had more important things to focus on. Soaking in his final moments of peace, Adair hungrily watched as the soft hues formed into a beautiful array of fiery brilliance. The sun rose higher in the sky bathing his skin, flushing his cheeks and his vision. Lingering, he could pretend the world was on fire.

  Find us, Adair.

  His eyes flew open. Breathing hard, he twisted off the ledge, his heart caught in his throat. The whisper felt like someone breathing down his back. His skin prickled at the thought. Swallowing hard, he walked back up to the Academy, thinking about the day of classes ahead.

  Don’t you want more?

  Stalling, he curled his fingers into his palms, his broken nails sending lacing pain up his arm. Looking behind him, he knew there was no one there. But why did he feel like he was being watched? Adrenaline surged through him, and Adair murmured under his breath, “Don’t be ridiculous, Stratton. Keep moving.” One foot in front of the other. The cool morning air brushed past him, and it took all of Adair’s control not to run up the sloping hill. He ran a hand through his unruly, inky hair, trying not to focus on his trembling fingers.

  Accept the darkness inside of you.

  Adair came to a full stop, his limbs taut. The world was still, yet he couldn’t shake the oppressive feeling of hopelessness colliding within him. Like he was running right into the pit of fire himself, and his course couldn’t be changed. Which he knew was ridiculous. It had been just a nightmare, bleeding into his reality. He was hurt, tired, and overwhelmed. This was just his imagination dealing with his stress. And he would not let it control him.

  Hissing through his teeth, he continued the climb back up to the school, icy whispers chasing his heels the entire way.

  “I am sure you are all aware of our visitors by this point, but I’m afraid the world must go on.” The class’s whispers only increased, and growling, Professor Jett clapped his hands together, his booming voice encasing them all. “Enough.” Sparks danced from his palms and the class was instantly quiet, looking at their teacher with wide eyes. Adair felt the corner of his mouth pull up in a lazy smile, and lowering his hands, Professor Jett continued. “Now, who wants to tell me the magical properties of these two items?” Adair wanted to roll his eyes. Really, going to class was a waste of his time. “No one?”

  Professor Jett raised a silver eyebrow at them all, and sighing, Adair murmured, “Combined, they make the perfect gas to knock out your enemy and in large doses, an army.”

  “I didn’t see a hand, Stratton.”

  Locking eyes with the older man, Adair slowly raised his pale hand drawling, “The chemical reaction between the gabnite and the slinte once weathered will create the perfect destructive gas.”

  He nodded brusquely. “Yes, thank you, Adair,”

  Professor Jett flicked his eyes away quickly and, not missing a beat, pushed on about the different kinds of gems, rocks, and minerals that could be mined to find other lethal combinations. Professor Jett was one of the only teachers who had the nerve to look him in the eye, but only barely. Clenching his jaw, he told himself for the millionth time in his life that it wasn’t his fault he was born into the family he was. That he was different.

  Sighing, he shifted his gaze to the opposite wall where a smooth slate of frosted glass hung. Deep within the ice, smoke sprawled and swirled, shifting and ticking, wispy tendrils marking how long was left of the class. And when he would meet his father. His skin crawled, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. He had nothing to fear, it was his dad.

  What happened last time he demanded a meeting?

  His spine stiffened as he gazed forward, not focusing on anything but still pulled into his memory. Cesan had left a note, crisp and identical to the one he received last night. When Adair had met with him, he had two seconds to process what had happened. The door had clicked. He had looked up to his dad, hopeful and curious. Then his world exploded into white, lacing pain and his father’s anger.

  “You are above this, Adair, above them!”

  He remembered vaguely the note floating down to the floor, drifting as light as a feather. He had clutched his cheek, desperately trying to stop the wobble in his lips as his father had whispered in a deadly quiet tone, “You do not need friends. You don’t need anyone, Adair, except your family. The more you open your heart, the more people will find a reason to shatter it and bind you to that pain. You are not weak, you are a Stratton, and you will not bow. Not to anyone.”

  He had run out of the room, tears spilling fluidly. He hadn’t talked to his father alone since then. No one else knew what their private talks entailed. No one except the school healer, who had covered up Adair’s split, bruised, and bloodied skin without question on various accounts. A deep tolling vibrated throughout the room and Adair jumped back into the present moment. His chair squeaked underneath him. The smoke in the ice showed that it was twelve and class was over. His classmates were oblivious to his unease, and their relief and chatter overtook everything as they relished in their new freedom. Chairs squealed, books and pages ruffling as everyone else started to file out, Professor Jett yelling over them. “Now remember to read chapters twelve through fourteen! I will know if you don’t!”

  He was frozen. How had the morning passed so quickly? He had felt in a daze throughout breakfast and then like a ghost, he had sat through his classes. Advanced Ability Training. Advanced History. Advanced Weaponry.

  Breathe.

  With shaking hands, Adair swept his useless books into his bag. These classes were just a time filler for him. With parents like Cesan and Bresslin, Adair had already read the textbooks several times. Only the best. Sighing, Adair forced his body to move, feeling Professor Jett appraising him the entire time. He didn’t look back as he left and was met with the pure chaos of the hallway. Pieces of paper with inked secret messages soared through the air, laughter and gossip spilling from the entourage of students. Ducking his head, Adair set out for the library, desperately trying to ignore the flashing show of abilities, catcalls, and squeals.

  In a place like the Academy, it bred more emotion and hope than Adair liked to admit. A government built on dreams to nourish the most gifted. But to him, there was no control, and it suffocated him. Grinding his teeth, he allowed his feet to carry him, having walked the path a thousand times. He tried not to think about what waited for him in that room, tried not to think about last night. Everything was a blur, the people and the school washing out to a dull white noise as those doors appeared. Five steps. He took a deep breath, trying to stand a little straighter, smoothing his hair to no avail. Three. Adair bit the inside of his cheek, his teeth breaking skin as iron filled his mouth. Two.

  He would not bow. He would not break. He was better than this. Reaching the doors, Adair gripped the handle and pulled. For a place like the Academy, the library was simplistic. Just a room with a desk and filled with bookshelves and dull material no one with an imagination would find exhilarating. Cesan leaned against the desk, impeccably groomed, causally inspecting his nails. The door clicked quietly shut behind them, cutting off the roaring commotion from outside. A beat, and he tried not to flinch as his father raised his gaze to him, indifference etched into his features, and yet something had changed. The burning promise and hunger for violence simmered behind his hooded eyes. Adair waited, his lips pressed into a thin line as he desperately tried not to throw up or dip into his ability. It would be so easy. He couldn’t do it, not against his dad. Protect yourself.

  “Adair, do you believe in fate?” The question registered slowly. He paused, digesting that his father was talking to him. There was no anger, no violence, no accusations. Just a simple question that he was not prepared to answer.

  Cesan didn’t wait for him to. “Fate. It is something that, for a long time after I met your mother, I did believe in. We were living in a dangerous world, but we knew what we believed in. To see the injusti
ces paid for, to end the war Roque’s father had started. For years, I followed the Faes’ dream, I followed my best friend and didn’t doubt a thing. I had a life and a family, strung along with the promise of more.”

  A chill snaked down Adair’s spine, and Cesan stepped forward, whispering, “Who wouldn’t want more? To be powerful, to rule? Roque promised me that our day would come, Adair, to have equal right to the Academy. That it would always be fair, that there would be no secrets. That he would always weigh our family’s opinion with an equal mentality.” His face contorted, and he stepped back.

  “It was all lies. Things have changed, Adair, and I’m not going to follow Roque into this trap. I refuse to stay in his shadow.”

  “Dad?” Adair’s voice trembled, his heart trying to catch up with what his mind had already concluded.

  “These people from the Shattered Isles shouldn’t be entertained or tolerated. And instead of making them our guests, I’m going to end them.”

  “Dad, no.”

  Cesan had backed Adair flush against the door, sneering down at him, “Are you with me?”

  “What, and leave the Academy?”

  Cesan uttered, “If you’re not with me, you’re with them.”

  “Dad, you don’t have to do this! The Faes aren’t the enemy, even these people—” He should have seen his hand coming. Adair’s head snapped back as tears welled in his eyes.

  Cesan spat, “These people are a threat, Adair, with their prettily packaged dreams of alliances. Of kings being united. I am going to stop them all.” Cesan’s face was flushed, and his eyes flashed. “You are no son of mine.”