CHAPTER 1
MY LIFE IS A CAREFULLY CONSTRUCTED LIE. Even now as my sister and I prepare to slip into the darkness of the tunnel network that runs beneath our city, each movement we make must remain cloaked by magic. Everything we say, everything we do, is designed to mislead and persuade that we’re exactly like the people we live amongst.
If we’re found out, we’ll be executed.
The lid of the drainage tunnel—far too heavy for us to lift by hand—rises into the still night air. Zandria continues to weave her hands in quick, furtive motions, moving the cover with her magic, while my own incantation stirs the air fast enough to make us imperceptible in the darkness of the alley. Zandria nods at me to go first and I climb down the grimy ladder into the black, never dropping my spell.
I hit the floor as she’s halfway down the ladder, and the lid clicks back into place. The city of Palinor sleeps above us while we creep along its filthy underbelly. This is our nightly ritual. When the sun sets, we head for the tunnels and hunt for what our people have lost.
We are Magi, a once powerful people decimated by the Techno-Magi wars one hundred years ago. The Technocrats bombed our schools and hospitals, did everything they could to destroy our children and future. For centuries we ruled these lands; now we are just beginning to rebuild our numbers. Our hatred of the Technocrats fuels us as we strive to recover what they stole.
The mere fact we exist is dangerous. Palinor isn’t a country that looks fondly on magic. They fear and loathe it. The Technocrats believe they all but eradicated us in the wars. Their leaders have lied to them, relegating us to the status of mere specters in the dark.
They’re wrong.
We have adapted.
My twin sister and I are living proof. All Magi can use magic on organic matter, but our powers are different. We can cast spells on anything, including the machines. It is our greatest secret, one we must hide from everyone but our parents. Our legends speak of a Magi sect that once tried to manipulate inanimate matter. They were cast out as tainted, their work destroyed, and their bloodlines removed from our histories. Simply being Magi is the least of our worries.
“This place is nastier than usual,” Zandria complains as she bumps her hip into mine. I cling to the rim of the ceiling and scowl at her. One false move and I’ll be swimming with the rats.
“And you’re just as foolish,” I say, taking the lead again. “Now hush.”
“You hush,” she says. I don’t have to turn around to know she smirks at the back of my head.
But she’s right—the last few days have been warm and rainless, and it smells fouler than ever down here. The ointment we painted under our noses hardly dims the stench when it’s this bad. We creep along the stone walkway in single file. I drop the concealing spell and instead whisper the one that makes our steps soundless.
Guards are usually stationed above, near the entrances, and rarely down in the tunnels. But if there ever are any, we’re prepared.
“Aissa, how much longer do you think we’ll have to keep this up before Mama and Papa let us do something more interesting? Mapping these tunnels is getting old.”
I stifle a snort. Nothing is ever exciting enough for my twin. Our parents began the mapping project last year, then handed it off when we turned sixteen last month, but we’ve only scratched the surface of the tunnel network in our nightly missions. This is our first excursion in this sector. The mapping is tedious, but important. It is said that somewhere down here lies the remnants of the Magi’s library. All those spells we lost, crushed by the Technocrats and buried under their shiny metal Palace.
“It’s necessary. Besides, we haven’t been doing this for long at all. We have to prove ourselves before the Armory will move us up the ranks. We can’t expect to be at Mama and Papa’s level until we’ve done our share of grunt work.”
“But what fun will that be?” she whines.
“Keep your voice down. Do you want to get caught?”
“We haven’t encountered a soul yet. I could scream and no one would bat an eye.”
“Except for me,” I say.
She smirks again. “Yes, except for you.”
This may not be the most glamorous task, as my sister reminds me every night, but it is important. Mama and Papa—and our leaders in the Armory—entrusted us with this mission. If we fail, we’ll lose our parents’ trust and the respect of our fellow Magi. Maybe even our lives if we get caught. Failure isn’t an option. Which means we have to work hard and stick this out until the Armory sees fit to promote us.
And ensure they never find out what our magic can do to the machines.
As we walk through the tunnels, we reach out with our magic, probing the walls for hollow spaces behind them. The Armory had hoped that if the Technocrats built their Palace on top of the ruins of our Magi city, exploring these tunnels would uncover sections that survived. In fact, we already have found evidence; the first time we ventured beneath the city, Zandria and I ferreted out a hidden passage beyond the tunnel wall that was clearly much older than what the Technos had plastered over it. Any doubts our parents may have had about giving us this assignment were laid to rest that very night. But not every tunnel has secrets. The sector we spent the last week exploring had none, much to our disappointment.
After one hundred feet, we reach what appears to be a curve in the tunnels. But my magic immediately discerns the gap behind it.
“Here,” I whisper to my sister. We exchange a quick grin, then get to work.
Zandria watches our backs and I hum at the wall. We’re alike in so many ways—twin features and bright red hair, even matching black tunics and pants on our nightly outings. But when it comes to magic, my sister prefers handspells while I’m partial to incantations. Singing isn’t necessary for magic, but it helps me focus. The words and magic and music combine in my head and let the power flow through me in a rush of heat.
Pity we Magi have lost so many of our spells.
Pity the Technocrats who stole them from us.
The wall moves apart, each brick carefully placing itself on the ground at my command, creating two new, shorter walls on either side of the walkway.
A shadowed doorway now stands in its place, tempting us onward. The tunnels run beneath the entire city, but now this section belongs to us.
“Fiero,” Zandria whispers, and a white light dances in her palm. She holds it aloft and takes the lead while I hum a silencing spell and pull out my paper and graphite to note our path.
We barely take a half dozen steps before I halt in my tracks and whirl around. I swear I heard something thump behind us.
I peer into the darkness. Nothing.
Then the sound comes again.
A trickle of ice slithers down my spine.
“Zandy!” I hiss. “Wait!” I rush back to the doorway and crouch down to the bricks to hum a new spell, willing them to hurry and move back into their proper places. In less than a minute, it’s like we never passed. Zandria stands wide-eyed behind me, not daring to speak a word. My heart pounds in my throat and I press my ear to the wall.
“Human or machine?” Zandria whispers. Her hand twines with mine, something we’ve done since we were little and afraid of the dark.
I shake my head. “Can’t tell.”
She weaves her free hand and murmurs. The brick near eye level slowly slides toward us. I flinch when it scrapes against the one beside it.