Because I cannot believe the Mary Poppins voice from my O-Tech watch has somehow transcended into the afterlife and is now controlling the human race with four princes and a weird landscape that shifts whenever it wants to.
My voice cracks. “Why is Ophelia doing this?”
Shura lifts a brow. She’s probably wondering why there’s so much hurt in my tone, but I can’t help it. Ophelia wasn’t just an AI—she was my constant.
“Revenge seems pretty likely,” Theo says, staring ahead. “Maybe she got sick of taking orders, or maybe she just wants to prove how powerful she is. But it doesn’t really matter why she wants Infinity; what matters is that she doesn’t want humans in it.”
I know it’s terrible to wish this world on anyone, but I wish Finn were here. I’ve always been an overthinker, but Finn? He had sarcasm and quippy jokes and a weird sense of profoundness that I think mostly happened by accident. And he’d know what to say right now to make me feel better. To make me feel like everything was going to be okay.
I miss my friend. I miss feeling safe.
Is that even possible in this world?
“Okay, Shura, we’re reaching the next border. Can you veil us?” Ahmet asks.
“On it.” She shuts her eyes and lets out a deep exhale through her nose. An unnatural stillness takes hold of her, like she’s part of a photograph, frozen in time.
I don’t know what she’s doing, but the next time the scenery shifts, we’re driving through a field of grass in the daylight and there’s a cityscape in front of us.
Tall white buildings pierce the clouds, some with embellished spires and carved roofs, others with majestic balconies bursting with ivy and colorful flowers. A maze of dazzling silver bridges arches across the sky, connecting one building to the next, as if the people who live here want to live as far from the ground as they possibly can.
An enormous wall built of polished stone curves around the metropolis of cathedrals, sparkling like gemstones in the sunlight. It’s surrounded by a blend of lake, woodland, and grassy hills, all connected by stone stairs that splinter back up toward the heart of the city.
My curiosity stretches beyond the wall, wondering what could possibly exist in the shadows of such a place.
I doubt it’s anything good.
“Could someone please tell me what I’m looking at?” My voice is hardly a breath. “And how this is possible?”
Shura doesn’t open her eyes, still lost in her meditative state.
Theo casts me an apologetic look. “Back there, we were passing through the Labyrinth. It’s a maze of shifting landscapes meant to confuse humans and prevent them from moving between courts. Think of it like a deck of cards that’s constantly being shuffled, each card being a different landscape. The upside is that the Rezzies can’t track us once we’re lost in it. The downside is that, well, humans tend to get lost. But Ahmet here has figured out how it works.” He claps his friend on the shoulder before turning back to the window. “And this—this is Victory.” Theo’s voice drips with distaste. “It’s Rezzie territory, ruled over by Prince Caelan and his Legion Guards. But it’s also home.”
Victory. An entire princedom created by an artificial intelligence. Ruled by an artificial intelligence.
“It’s…” My voice falters, unable to find the right word. Confusing? Terrifying? Beautiful?
Death is not at all what I expected.
Ahmet watches me through the rearview mirror. “Don’t let the glamour trick you. For most humans, this place is no better than a morgue.”
A lump forms in my throat. Death is supposed to mean the worst is over. But for my family? For everyone else still living?
What horrors are still to come?
I wish I could find a way to speak to my parents and Mei, to tell them I’m here, that I haven’t disappeared completely, and that some part of me still exists, somewhere in the beyond. But mostly I wish there were some way to warn them about what’s waiting in the afterlife.
Not that it would do them much good. Nobody can outrun death, which means nobody can outrun Infinity.
I rub the phantom wound on my chest, shuddering at how easy it is to recall the sharpness of the bullet. Death feels like an imprint—an invisible scar that I can’t see but I know is there. Because beneath my flesh I still feel the scorch of trauma. The horrible burn of my soul being ripped away from my body before I was ready to leave.
It shouldn’t have been my time.
My blood starts to simmer, so I quickly shove the thoughts away and stare out the window before anyone else notices.
In the distance, I spot a small village near the lake, surrounded by wooden docks and thatched huts built partially into the hillside. It’s crooked and unkept in comparison to the gleaming cathedrals beyond the wall, and rows of salt-weathered fishing barrels sit at the edge of the harbor.
I lean across the seat and try to get a closer look at the huts, but instead of turning up the graveled path, Ahmet makes a sharp right into a small forest, staying clear of the city’s borders. When the trees begin to thin, we pull up to an old barn that sits at the edge of a withering field. The half-collapsed roof is a mess of exposed beams and missing shingles, and the entire building is covered in thick clumps of mud and moss.
The large double doors open with a tired groan, and Ahmet eases the vehicle inside. Save for a scattering of hay, leaves, and a rusted pitchfork resting against the wall, it looks like it was abandoned a very long time ago.
I glance around the empty barn nervously. It hardly seems like a place anyone would call a “base.” It smells of damp and mulch, for one, and half the roof is missing. I’ve never seen a hideout so… exposed.
With another exasperated grumble, the barn doors shut behind us, operated by something mechanical. Magical.
Before I get the chance to ask questions, the floor moves.
It drops like an elevator shaft, making my nerves flutter. We fall first into darkness, and then the platform stills and we’re at the start of a long tunnel lit with inconspicuous bulbs hidden in the brick-lined walls. As soon as Ahmet hits the gas, I hear the ground shake. When I turn around, the platform is already rising.
We weave through the earth, the lights brightening as we draw near and fading to black once we’ve passed, as if someone is watching our every move.
Or maybe it isn’t a someone. Maybe it’s the world that’s watching us. Interacting with us.
The thought sends a chill up my spine.
Eventually the vehicle slows to another gentle stop, blocked off by a large metal door. Theo jumps out first, and when I glance at Shura, she’s only just opening her eyes.
“That was tiring.” She grins, and her cheeks dimple. “Veiling four people and a flying car is not an easy thing to do, I’ll have you know.”
When I open the door, Theo is already waiting with his arm out. “You can lean on me, if it helps.”
I take a step on my own and almost collapse to the floor. I didn’t realize how hard it would be to walk with… whatever it is that’s still stuck in my leg.
I place my hand over Theo’s muscular forearm and hobble toward the doors, which give a shudder before sliding open.
Ahmet turns his head toward me, a wry glint in his mahogany eyes. “Welcome to your new home. We call it the Colony.”