He twisted the lever.
I love you, Nok.
He slumped in the warmth of the darkened tunnel. The hum of the reactor core slowly shut down and then stopped.
Silence.
I love you, Sparrow. I’ll be looking down on you. I’ll be your proud father, always.
The tunnel was growing warmer.
He could hear the distant sounds of the battle raging outside. Ships against ships. The Kindred and Mosca and Gatherers fighting off the Axion. The crash of lasers in the air.
Was it only in his head, or did he hear the town cheering too?
Arm-strong! Arm-strong!
His eyelids sank closed.
He smiled.
The cheers changed in his head. Ro-lf! Ro-lf!
Such a beautiful sound, them cheering his name. He pictured Nok, with their daughter in her arms, both of them pumping their fists toward the sky, smiles radiant on their beautiful faces, his name on their lips.
Ro-lf! Ro-lf!
His eyes did not open again.
38
Cora
“CASSIAN, STOP! IT’S ME!”
Cora scrambled away from Cassian’s raised fist. The metal grates on the floor were painful on her bare palms, but all she could focus on was the awful realization that Cassian thought she was his enemy. In the puzzle chamber mirrors, Fian’s angry face looked back instead of her own reflection. Her hand grazed the painted red circle near the edge of the room and an alarm blared. She jerked her hand back, and it stopped.
She noticed drawings of sparring pairs on the walls above the mirrors. Puzzle ten, she realized, was a wrestling ring.
A physical challenge.
Though she’d lost all specific memories of attending wrestling matches back home or watching them on television, she still vaguely remembered the rules. The first wrestler to push their opponent outside the red circle won. Though it was a physical puzzle, its true challenge was clear: Cassian didn’t recognize her.
“Listen,” she said, eyeing the red circle to make sure she stayed within it, “I know I don’t look like me, but it’s Cora.” Her voice came out unnaturally deep. She gasped, clamping a hand over her mouth. Different words had come out.
“It’s too late,” her voice had said. “The Gauntlet’s broken. We’ve caught the girl. There’s no reason for you to live.”
She gaped. The Gauntlet’s illusions hadn’t changed just her appearance—it had changed the very words she’d said. She searched her mind, calling on the paragon burst for a solution, but there was no answer. Humanity was as stumped as she was.
“Then try to stop me,” Cassian replied. “Try to keep her from me.”
He started forward. Cora let out a shriek. Her heart was raging as hard as the storm outside. But Cassian was moving slowly, not yet recovered from his near drowning. He blinked as though his vision was blurry. She scrambled away as he lunged for her, moving with sharper reflexes than she’d ever had before. Though she should have been exhausted, her muscles felt strangely powerful.
Leon, she realized. Thank god for the paragon burst. Without Leon’s DNA to boost her physical strength, she wouldn’t have stood a chance.
“You can’t . . . get away . . . ,” Cassian said, his movements labored. He doubled over and coughed up more water. A pang of both fear and sympathy hit her. She was, in a terrible way, grateful that he’d almost died. On any other day he’d be able to defeat her easily, but he was unnaturally weakened, and she was unnaturally strengthened. For the first time, they were well matched physically.
“Cassian . . . ,” she started, but let her words fall. It was useless. The Gauntlet would just create an illusion around whatever she said. There was no reasoning with him. No convincing him of the truth. This was a physical puzzle, and the only way to win was to defeat it—to defeat him.
She nearly blacked out at the impossibility of getting him outside the red line through sheer strength. Cassian was exceptionally well built, even for a Kindred. He towered nearly a foot and a half above her, and he had to weigh three times her weight.
But she was desperate.
She took a deep breath, trying to focus. Blood still trickled from his left arm. He was trying to hide how much it hurt him, but she hadn’t seen him lift it, not even ball his left hand into a fist. So he wouldn’t be swinging any punches from that side, at least.
He wiped water from his face, then lurched forward.
She held her ground, breathing hard. He was slower than usual. His steps were sluggish and heavy, almost as though he were drunk. He grabbed for her as she darted to the left, and his right hand only grazed her bare arm. With both of them still soaking wet, their skin was slippery. She filed that information away as she ducked toward his left side again, knowing that arm was useless.
Use it, Leon’s voice grunted. Hurt him. You have to.
Before she could stop herself, she shoved her elbow straight into the gaping wound on Cassian’s left shoulder.
He screamed. She cried out too, wishing she didn’t have to hurt him, but she didn’t have a choice. She slammed her elbow into his arm again, shocked by her own enhanced strength. Was this how Leon felt all the time, so powerful? Cassian crumpled to the floor, catching himself with his right arm at the last moment.
Keep going, Leon’s voice hummed. Don’t stop.
She shoved her shoulder into his side, trying to throw him off-balance so she could push him out of the red ring. But she only managed to shove him a few inches before she tripped on the grate. Just that second of hesitation was all Cassian needed to grab her with his right hand, catching her by surprise, and swing her to the floor. Her head connected painfully with the grates as the wind rushed out of her.
“That’s for Cora,” Cassian hissed.
“I’m not an Axion,” she said, though she knew it was useless. “I’m—”
“You’re dead,” Cassian said. “But I’m going to make you suffer first.” He grabbed her wrists, twisting them over her head, and then straddled her middle, digging her back against the grates. She tried to pull her hands from his, but even with Leon’s DNA, she was no match for a Kindred. With her arms pinned, she couldn’t punch him in his wounded arm. She couldn’t throw him off-balance like this, not while trapped underneath him. . . .
Wait.
A moment of déjà vu hit her, and her heart started to thump. This was the wrestling position Lucky had taught her in the cage’s desert maze. He had explained how when an opponent was much bigger, she couldn’t rely on any feats of strength. She had to use her own weight against him through momentum. The paragon burst projected visions into her head. Her own sparring match with Lucky. Ancient tribes fighting in a desert. High schoolers in a gymnasium wrestling match. Leon beating up some poor kid in a movie theater parking lot.
Now, she told herself.
She shoved her hips upward, catching Cassian by surprise. She
shifted herself to the left, throwing him off-balance. Then it was simply a matter of using his own heavy weight to tip him forward, as she scrambled out from under him. He landed hard on his left arm, giving a ragged cry.
Cora winced at the sound of blood from his wounded arm dripping down to the floor below.
He tossed his head up, pure rage in his eyes.
Use his momentum against him. She heard the echo of Leon’s voice in her head.
As Cassian stood, Cora balled her fists. She spared a quick glance at the floor—the red line was directly behind her. If she stepped back just one inch, the alarm would go off again. Two inches, and she’d lose. But now she realized the nature of the game worked in her favor. Cassian didn’t care about winning a puzzle or wrestling matches. He cared only about killing her—the Axion he thought she was—and that meant he didn’t care about stepping outside any lines.
“Come on,” she goaded. The room was cold, and her soaked, clammy clothes made her shiver. “Come and get me.”
For once, the Gauntlet didn’t change her words.
“Gladly,” Cassian replied.
He rushed at her.
She stood her ground. She waited as he barreled toward her, closer . . . closer . . . his right hand pulled back . . .
And then she ducked with quickened reflexes at the last minute, rolling away from the red line.
“Coward!” Cassian yelled, wheeling to a stop.
Cora landed on her back and kicked out her legs as hard as she could, connecting with his knees. He staggered backward a single step.
It was enough.
He crossed the red line.
The alarm started blaring. It droned steadily as all the lights overhead turned red, tinting the room the color of blood. Cassian spun around as if this were some new danger. His eyes settled on Cora.
He froze.
She lay on her back in the middle of the room, panting. She tensed her muscles, ready in case he attacked again.
His voice was tentative, confused. “Cora?”
She turned to the mirror. The red light was cast down not over the reflection of an Axion impostor, but over a girl in black clothes, hair wild, eyes even wilder.
“Cora?” he said again. This time panic filled his voice. The alarm stopped blaring, but neither of them seemed to notice. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a door open in the right-hand wall.