by Jake Halpern
Dozens more graylings emerged from the ramp, streaming into the room and forming a tight semicircle around Alec and Wren—their grubby gray robes blending together in a great tapestry of filth.
And then Shade’s voice filled the space. “Hello there,” he called. “Looks like we’re just in time.”
Shade was standing where the ramp entered the room. He was wearing his robe of silver ribbons, just as he had been when Alec and Wren had first seen him. Ember stood next to him, wrapped in a glittering gold shawl.
Shade glanced about the room, eying his graylings with satisfaction, like a proud kennel master.
“Graylings are such obedient and loyal creatures,” observed Shade. “And you know the funny thing? It doesn’t take much to earn their loyalty. They were so despised in the above world—yearning to be accepted. So we accepted them. I suppose you can appreciate that, Wren, can’t you?”
If Wren was surprised to hear her name, she didn’t show it. She merely pursed her lips.
“We keep careful track of things down here,” said Shade. “I know your name. I know your mother’s name, and how she died, and where she is right now. I also know why everyone in Edgeland wants to catch you.”
“I didn’t kill Fat Freddy,” she replied in a measured voice.
“Oh, I know you didn’t kill Friderik,” said Shade. “I’ve spoken with him. The problem is that no one above—in the world of the living—knows it.” He smiled, but only with his lips. His eyes were lifeless and indifferent. “Perhaps you should consider staying here instead?”
“Yes, think about it, Wren,” added Ember. “We could use someone like you.”
Shade and Ember glided across the room toward Wren and Alec, moving so fluidly that they seemed to be floating on the mist. The graylings made room for them in the tight semicircle of bodies that surrounded Alec and Wren.
With Shade at her side, Ember smiled fondly at Wren. Then she turned to Alec and addressed him as if they were old friends. “Alec,” she said. “Dorman told me about you. He said you worked at House Aron. I suppose that means you know who I am.”
Alec nodded. Despite everything he’d seen on this island and how wretched he knew this place to be, he couldn’t help but feel a flicker of hope that—somehow—there had been some horrible misunderstanding, and Ember was not really to blame.
“Do I look like the founder of House Aron?” she asked, letting out a warm, melodious laugh.
“You look exactly like your portrait,” said Alec finally. He tried to squelch the tremor in his throat.
“You mean the one of me standing in the sunlight?” asked Ember. “Do they still have it in the chapel—beneath the stained-glass windows?”
Alec nodded.
“Oh, I’m glad,” said Ember. She seemed genuinely pleased. “I never much liked that portrait. I looked too serious. Kind of fussy, wouldn’t you say? But I liked that spot very much. The servants used to serve cardamom tea there during the sunrise. Do they still do that?”
“They do,” said Alec, nodding. It seemed bizarre to be chatting with Ember at this moment, but he couldn’t help himself. He wanted to talk to her.
“I know you have a lot of questions,” said Ember. “Both of you,” she added, glancing at Wren for the first time. “Much of what you’ve seen down here must seem strange—sinister even—so I’m glad that we finally have the chance to talk.” She paused for a moment and adjusted the fine gold cloth of her shawl. “So, is there anything that you’d like to know?”
“Where’s my mother?” demanded Wren, eyes narrowed.
“She’s safe and sound,” replied Ember. “As are the soldiers you woke up, and of course Flower and Sebastian. In fact, I’m looking forward to chatting with Flower. She proved quite good at eluding us over the years.” Ember returned her gaze to Alec. “What about you, Alec, isn’t there anything you want to know?”
Alec looked up at the mosaic on the ceiling.
“Well?” asked Ember patiently.
“Aren’t you curious?” he asked, gesturing around at the statues. “About what this room could do?”
“You mean tear down the wall?” said Ember. “Revive the dead?” She laughed again, that same warm chuckle. “My dear boy, why would we possibly want to do that? I suppose Sebastian has put some silly notion in your head about this being the way out of here—the doorstep to heaven—or some such nonsense. Oh dear. This is precisely why we had to vanish him.” She clucked her tongue in a scolding fashion, like an old schoolmarm. “Can you imagine the horror that this island would become? A great war—Suns versus Shadows—the dead tearing one another apart, limb by limb.
“Let me tell you why we built the bliss houses,” continued Ember. “When we first arrived here, there were fewer of us, and we all took the drops. And do you know what happened? Everyone was wide-awake and filled with dread. Why are we all together—Suns and Shadows? How long must we stay here? Where is God? People tried to end their own lives again and again—only they couldn’t—because they were already dead.”
Her eyes were fixed on Alec, but then they flicked over to Wren, taking in her shocked expression.
“Yes,” said Ember. “It’s true. And the bodies just kept floating ashore … hundreds and thousands of them. It was chaos. And then we hit upon the solution. Prayer. Meditation. People began saying the mantra and drifting into bliss. Right away, you could see the island changing into something that was much, much better.”
“I gotta tell you,” said Wren. She glanced back toward the ramp. “It doesn’t look that great to me out there.”
“Well,” said Ember, with her kindly smile. “We haven’t made it to heaven yet, have we?”
“But do you really believe that muttering the mantra will get you there?” asked Alec.
“Of course,” replied Ember, clasping her hands together. “That’s the nature of faith. You must believe in order for it to work … Alec, you of all people should understand what we’re doing here. Why, it’s exactly the same thing that you have done your entire life at House Aron. When people arrived at our doorstep—stricken with grief and fear—we gave them comfort. Comfort and certainty in the face of the unknown.”
“It’s not the same!” said Alec.
His aggressive tone startled the graylings, who perked up and inched forward like a pack of hunting dogs.
“Not now,” said Shade.
A fraction of a second later, one of the graylings—a big stocky boy—raised his hand. Instantly, the other graylings stood down.
It was Oscar.
He was standing directly next to Shade, though he gave no indication—whatsoever—that he knew or even cared who Wren was.
Wren glanced about nervously, taking in the faces of the other graylings who surrounded them. Wren knew just how vicious graylings could be. She’d seen them do terrible things to one another in the descenders, especially when food was scarce. But she also noticed that these graylings weren’t taking their cues from Shade. Their eyes were trained on Oscar. He seemed to be the top dog. It all made sense. He was just like Mira—the girl who ran their old pack on Edgeland.
Wren stared at Oscar, hoping for a flicker of acknowledgment.
But he offered nothing—just a vacant gaze from two unblinking eyes.
Ember stepped closer to Alec and Wren, her long arms clasped in front of her. They were only a few feet apart.
She focused her attention on Alec. “My dear, sweet boy,” she said. “We’re from the same House. You understand what that means, right? We’re family. We must help each other. And now you can help us make this a better place.”
Wren watched her approach Alec. His eyes seemed glazed over. Maybe it was just the hunger and the thirst, but he seemed caught in a trance. He even swayed back and forth, as if dizzy. Wren was feeling it, too. She glanced back at Oscar, but he wore the same mask of indifference.
“What do you say, Alec?” asked Shade. His deep voice purred, but beneath it was a slight edge, as if he were
slowly losing his patience. “Do you understand now just how dangerous this room is—how evil—and why we’ve worked so hard to keep it a secret?”
“Alec, there’s a place for you here,” said Ember. She turned to Wren for a second. “A place for both of you. Just think, Wren, down here you won’t have to worry about proving your innocence. You can just lounge in the Meadow … with your mother, for as long as you like. What could be better than that?”
Wren bit her lip.
Ember reached into her robe and pulled out a long dagger with a razor-thin blade, then extended her arm and offered it to them.
Alec and Wren each took a small step backward. They were now almost up against the statue of the old woman.
“This is the only choice, my dears,” said Ember. “But it’s easier if you do it yourself, isn’t it?”
Ember and Alec stared at each other, as if they were the only two people on the island.
“What are you thinking, Alec?” asked Ember.
“Well,” said Alec softly. “I think … Well, I think you’ve made a mess of things down here. Maybe, once, you had good intentions … but this can’t be the answer. I see no good in what you’ve done.”
Wren grabbed Alec’s hand and squeezed it.
“We’ve seen your bliss houses,” said Wren, voice trembling. “We’ve seen those people crying in their sleep. And we’ve seen the sea coffins where you keep people like Sebastian Half-Light.”
Shade scowled at her.
“I’ve heard enough,” said Shade. He turned to Oscar and nodded his head, ever so slightly.
“Oscar!” shouted Wren.
Shade blanched, evidently startled that Wren knew Oscar’s name.
“They’re using all of you!” cried Wren. “I am a grayling, too—spent all my nights in the descenders, just like you. I was afraid all the time. That’s why Shade and Ember picked you.” She swiveled her head, trying to make eye contact with as many of the graylings as she could. Some refused to look at her, but others leaned in closer. She turned to Shade. “As you said, we’re easy pickings—aren’t we?”
“Shut your mouth!” barked Shade, flicking his cloak behind him.
“There was a grayling—a girl named Nora—she’s the one who found this room,” shouted Wren, ignoring him. “Maybe you remember her? They vanished Nora to make sure she wouldn’t talk! They’re afraid of this room. Because it leads somewhere else—to a place where they’re not in charge!”
Oscar stepped away from Shade. He held up his hand, gesturing for the graylings to wait. Alec and Wren both tensed. The instinct to run was overwhelming, but there was no escape.
“It’s time, Oscar,” said Shade. “You know what to do.”
“Yes,” said Oscar, nodding.
The graylings reached into their robes and pulled out knives so small that it would take countless stabs to kill a person.
A painful death.
“I’ll see you on the other side,” said Ember, with a tremor in her voice. “Good-bye.” She retreated backward, removing herself from the tight semicircle of graylings.
“Go on,” said Shade. He was looking directly at Oscar. “When you’re done, take their bodies back to the Drain.”
The other graylings eyed Oscar.
He took a step forward. The graylings followed his lead, edging closer.
Wren squeezed Alec’s hand tighter. “OSCAR!” she yelled. “PLEASE!”
Oscar brandished his knife and took one more step. He glanced to his left and his right, taking in the graylings behind him.
“Grab the boy,” shouted Oscar, pointing his finger at Alec. “But don’t cut him.”
Several graylings surged forward, jumping on Alec and bringing him to the ground. Alec was shouting and struggling, until a grayling clamped her hand across his mouth, and another one grabbed his throat.
Oscar walked behind Wren and threw an arm around her chest, pinning her close to him. The other hand—the one holding the dagger—rose toward her throat.
“Oscar … please … we just have to push this statue,” gasped Wren. “You’ll see … Everything will be better.”
“Go on—cut her throat!” said Shade. “Must I do this for you?”
Oscar glared at Shade, paused for several seconds, then lowered the knife.
“No,” said Oscar softly, almost in a whisper.
Shade clenched his jaw, and the muscles in his face rippled with tension. He started to push toward Oscar, through the mass of graylings. But instead of parting to let him go, the graylings braced themselves, hindering his way forward.
“No,” said Oscar, much louder this time. He let go of Wren, turned, and placed his palm against the statue of the old woman.
“Oscar, don’t be a fool!” said Shade. He sounded worried now. His eyes were glued to Oscar’s palm. “You’ll ruin everything we’ve built. You don’t want to do that. You won’t do that.”
Oscar snorted and let his hand fall.
“You think you know graylings so bloody well,” he said. “But let me tell you … this place is a rat hole. Just like the stinkin’ one we came from. And we didn’t get to make up the rules in either place. So tell ya what—I’m gonna let Wren show us what she found. How bad can it be? I’m willin’ to imagine that just about anywhere else’d be better than here.”
“And why’d you keep all hush-hush about this place?” said a grayling girl of ten or eleven. She glared at Shade through pinched eyes. “If there might be a way out, you ought’a said something.”
“Now that we seen it, are you gonna vanish us—like you done Nora?” asked another.
Shade tried again to force his way toward Oscar, but the graylings tightened ranks, knives at the ready.
“Stay where you are,” said Oscar, glowering at Shade. He pointed at Ember, who had been trying to edge closer as well. “You too.”
Oscar turned to Wren. “All right—what now?”
“First, let Alec go,” said Wren.
Oscar motioned for the graylings to release him, which they did.
“Okay,” he said to Wren. “Now we push these statues.”
“No!” shouted Ember. She tried to make her way forward and, once again, the graylings blocked both her and Shade from moving.
Wren grabbed the stone hands on the statue of the old lady and began to push. Alec helped. So did Oscar. They strained their bodies—summoning the strength of their feet, legs, and torso, channeling them into their hands. They gritted their teeth and grunted as they pushed.
The statue of the old woman began to move steadily.
A rumbling echoed through the chamber. Cracks spread along the rock walls of the room, like rivulets of water on a dried streambed. White steam poured from the mouths of the statues. Shade and Ember raced across the room and tried to grab hold of two other statues to slow them down, but it was too late. The statues were moving faster now—building momentum on their own. Alec, Wren, and Oscar stopped pushing but the statues continued to spin.
The grinding noise had become almost deafening. Steam filled the room. The ground shook. Graylings were screaming.
“Wren!” called a voice. “Alec!”
It was Oscar, his face barely visible in the miasma of steam.
“We ought’a go!” he yelled.
For an instant, the steam seemed to clear, revealing the empty ramp that rose high above the whirling statues. Shade and Ember were already gone.
“To the Meadow!” screamed Wren.
Alec, Wren, Oscar, and the graylings darted through the moving statues and onto the ramp. The statues were spinning so quickly now that they were a blur of motion. Together, the horde of children clambered upward.
As soon as they emerged onto the Meadow, Wren heard a loud buzzing, like cicadas singing in the evening. There was a crowd in the middle of the Meadow, gathered around the statues. Even from a distance, Wren could see the red tunics of Simon and his men, but not her mother. She broke into a run, pounding her way across the mossy ground
. At last she saw Alinka, standing right next to Simon.
“Mother!” Wren yelled. “MOTHER!”
Alinka turned to look at her daughter. Seconds later, Wren was enveloping her in a hug.
“Wrennie,” said Alinka. “Oh, Wrennie … you’re okay.” She smiled and ran a hand lightly across Wren’s head. “It must’ve worked—what you did—look.” She gestured toward the statues.
Steam was exploding from the statues’ mouths in powerful blasts. Wren guessed what this meant—soon millions of dead might be waking from bliss. She spun around to look for Alec, but he was already at her side. Oscar was there, too—along with all of his fellow graylings. They were transfixed by the statues. And, for the first time, Wren noticed that there were members of the Blind in the crowd as well; they were cupping their hands over their ears, as if the sound of the steam was too loud for them to tolerate.
Roaring geysers of humid steam were now screaming from the statues’ mouths and forming long, twisting tendrils that rocketed upward and slithered across the sky like great snakes. At last, these serpents of air dove down toward the bliss houses and blew the doors open. The crowd ran to the terrace at the edge of the Meadow to watch.
And then came the scream.
It was a great collective wail of the dead waking.
Millions of people.
All at once.
Alec and Wren heard it only for a second before it became deafening. But they still could feel the power of the noise. It made the air shake and the ground tremble. The vibrations wiggled into Alec’s and Wren’s bones.
Down below, it was chaos. People poured from the bliss houses and filled the streets. Alec watched with growing alarm. Where would they all go? Five centuries of dead people. All waking at once. The thought was staggering, mind-blowing. Did we make the wrong decision?
Wren tugged his arm and pointed at the great wall, which curved back and forth, snaking all the way to the far end of the island.
It was fracturing and splitting apart. Cracks raced up its side so quickly that the entire facade seemed to shiver. Dust and pebbles fell away from it and splashed into the moat below.