John stewed. He barely braced himself as the wagon went on, tossing him side to side as it rode over the cracked paving. Seeing guns always did that to him, but not for the reason many would think.

  Most would assume that when he looked at the weapons in that room, he thought about all the lives that had been wasted in that war. That was real, and those lives had been wasted in all that bloodshed. But his reaction wasn’t nearly as noble as that.

  No. The anger that filled him now was born from the fact that it was because of the guns that he was forced to live out this monotonous life. Whatever dark stuff had been going on over in Erosa, the tedious life he now lived was because of it.

  He turned his face to the sky, letting the heat of the sun press against his face. Lord knew he was tanned enough as is, but the sun and its kiss were one of the only things that reminded him of a world outside of the camp. Reminded him of the spectacle Tettralis had been before it had fractured into the different camps that they were now.

  Reminders like that were necessary to keep him grounded. To keep his head clear so that he could focus on what he had to, so he could do what he had to. And that was to play his role as Function head to the best of his ability.

  After all, wishing things were different never made it so.

  He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath. At least he could always count on the sun to better his mood.

  As he was gently tossed to his left, he glanced back at the disappearing military base. It hit him now that Oliver had probably expected him to personally show him the basics of firing a gun. Or rather, watch as one of the enforcers taught him; Kevin would never have it any other way.

  Would Eve have expected the same thing?

  He sighed frustratedly. What’s done is done. There was no changing that. Besides, none of them had said they expected him to. Or was this one of those things he was simply supposed to understand?

  Why couldn’t people just say what they meant?

  He reached under his shirt and pulled out the stone hanging from his neck. Shimmering with a faint golden-yellow, the stone had a rectangular shape. After decades, it no longer struck him as odd that one of the corners seemed to float apart from the entire stone.

  Eve had suggested some form of magnetism was responsible for the strange effect. It certainly seemed like a magnet. He could hold that separate piece and somehow still hold the entire stone.

  The stone carried a lot of memories, all of which threatened to break him now. But he focused on one. On his brother. Lexand had always said he’d struggle once he had a family of his own. That he had no sense in reading or expressing emotion.

  Except danger.

  He tucked the stone back under his shirt as the memory of Lexand’s death turned his thoughts grim and sour. What’s done is done. There’s no point in torturing myself with memories.

  The entire ride went on in silence. The driver focused on the horse, knowing that John preferred it that way. John, of course, kept his face to the sun, the warmth seeping into his skin until it felt like he was burning. Even then, he didn’t look away.

  After an hour and forty minutes, they arrived at the main camp. The wagon went down Mark’s street until it stopped in front of the prison. He rolled his neck slowly, taking great comfort in the small cracks.

  Peter was already waiting for him, inhaling deeply from the roll in his hand. John gave a nod to the driver, then got off and approached Peter. The roll was already burned more than halfway down.

  “What? What’s that face?” John asked.

  “I didn’t expect you here so soon,” Peter said, taking another pull from the roll.

  “Why?” John asked.

  “I thought you’d be staying with Oliver. You know, helping him shoot?”

  So they were expecting it.

  “If you thought that, why are you here already?” John asked instead.

  “Well...” he hesitated, taking another pull. “I knew you’d miss the cue that you were supposed to stay with him.”

  “So, you did expect me.”

  Pete nodded, taking one last deep pull. What was left of the roll burned away in one quick rush, leaving only the filter at the end. He tossed it to the floor, stepping on it lightly to kill the small flame.

  “But since you’re here, shall we?” he asked, retrieving the filter and placing it in his pocket.

  John nodded and went for the door. The enforcers standing guard outside let them through without question. If he’d been forced to say that ridiculous code twice in one day, he doubted he’d be able to hold himself back.

  Before the war, before Tettralis’s collapse, the prison had been a building for state affairs. But since certificates and official paperwork were no longer needed, the building had been repurposed. Another reminder of what society had lost.

  “How’s Eve doing?” Peter asked as they ascended the flight of stairs.

  There were currently only two prisoners here, and they were kept on the third floor, in old offices that had been converted into bedrooms used now as cells. Carpeted, the air in the stairwell was dusty and stuffy, with no windows to bring in any air.

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  “She’s alright,” John answered. “You’d swear she’d just been sleeping, though, and not in a coma. If it wasn’t for Ava, I think she’d be going around the camp, checking on anyone she might’ve missed treating during her... nap.”

  “That’s Eve,” Peter said with a laugh.

  However, the joviality disappeared the minute they set foot on the third floor. There was a pungent smell hanging in the air. John brought his hand up, cupping it over his nose and mouth. He looked at the enforcers standing in the hall, noticing how sick they themselves looked.

  “What the hell is that?” Peter asked. “Have you been shitting yourselves?”

  The enforcer standing closest to them scowled. “He still won’t give up his bucket, councilmen.”

  Councilmen.

  Though seven years might’ve felt like a long time to these people, John found it far too short a time frame for people to fall into this new normal so willingly. Accepting the change was one thing; fully participating and acting as though it had always been this way was something else entirely.

  “You threatened him with that thing hanging over your shoulder?” Peter asked.

  “We did. His exact words were, ‘Your Head hasn’t gotten a thing out of me, which means you can’t kill me.’”

  “Your head hasn’t gotten a thing out of me, you can’t kill me!” the man echoed from his room just down the hall. “It’s bloody well true, isn’t it? I also told them, if they shoot me anywhere else, I’ll rub all the shit in this bucket on it. Treat it—I’ll do it again. And again. And again. Good luck with that, you dimwits.”

  John looked at the four enforcers, at Peter, all of them equally at a loss for words. He turned his attention back to the enforcer they’d been speaking with.

  “What about the other one?” he gestured at B’s door, half-expecting the man to answer for himself just as his companion had. But he remained silent.

  “He’s cooperating. Still speaks to himself, though.”

  John nodded. “Well, we’ve given Arch enough time. Might as well try now. Bring him out.”

  The enforcer went to bring him out. Hopefully, they wouldn’t think too much about why he was avoiding B. Although the chances that they’d already noticed were high. But the Ospelian could wait a few minutes.

  The enforcers led the man to one of the many vacant offices, sitting him down at one of the desks. As always, the old man sat there unperturbed. His demeanor and cropped silver hair suggested he’d spent some time serving in the old military. As always, John wondered if the man had served in the war as well.

  “Nice to see you again,” he said, leaning back in the chair. “It took you long enough.”

  “We’re mounting an expedition,” John said immediately. “North-west.”

  For the first time since the man had arrived here, he glanced at them in stunned silence. The effect didn’t last long, but it was enough to show he was at least partially unnerved.

  “My camp?” he asked.

  “We have our own reasons,” John answered calmly. “But the Head considers this a perfect opportunity to verify what you’ve said.”

  “Verify,” the man said, pronouncing the word as though it were a slur. “My camp was wiped out. We weren’t nearly as well-armed as Twelve seems to be. I came to you for help. It’s been well over a week now. Everyone who was still there when I left is long dead. Your expedition means nothing.”

  “It means the difference between life and death for Twelve,” John said.

  He understood the man’s anger, but the Head had prohibited them from helping. He repeated the words she’d said to him three weeks ago.

  “It took you almost a month to make it here on horseback. It would’ve been another month for us to get there. We wouldn’t have made a difference.”

  “That’s cold,” the man said, shivering in mockery. “Even in my camp, we heard Darlene Emery was a cold bitch. I can hear her now, hiding in those words. I suppose you speaking with me now means you want to question me?”

  “We want you to come with,” John answered.

  “Oh, is that all? Well, why didn’t you just say so?”

  “Arch, since you’re aware of the Head,” Peter said, “you should know you’re coming with us whether you want to or not.”

  Arch shook his head in bewilderment. “Are you people slow?” he asked. “Or is it because you’re playing at a normal life? Do you understand what this means? What I told you? What B told you?”

  “We under—” John barely got those words out before the man continued.

  “B came from Erosa, where they were studying Dreamers. None of them were birthing demons—not anymore. By now, you’ve seen it for yourselves. B proved it to you. The Knocking is over. And yet somehow, demons, in numbers we’ve never seen before, came to my camp and wiped it out. I saw people I considered my family lose their will to live. They stood dead still before they were torn from limb to limb.”

  John noticed Peter glance down at his shoes, Arch’s words clearly haunting him. The enforcers standing in the corners of the room and in the doorway shifted uncomfortably, rolling their shoulders as they gripped their rifles. It only got worse as the man continued.

  “So, since you’ve seen for yourselves Dreamers no longer birth demons, where do you think the creatures are coming from? Hm?”

  When no one answered, he went on. “As far as we knew, the demons were only on Erosa, crawling and falling from that bloody wound in the sky. Now they’re crossing continents? They’ve adapted. The sea is no longer a barrier between us. We’re finished!”

  John took a deep breath, the room suddenly stifling him.

  “All the more reason for us to go, to make sure what happened to Thirteen doesn’t happen here. We’ll be well armed, I promise you.”

  Of course, his voice sounded calmer than he felt.

  “Idiots,” Arch muttered. “You’re all a bunch of idiots.”

  “Idiots, dimwits, fools, you’re free to call us whatever you want. But you are coming with us. And we’d prefer to know the layout of your camp before we go. It’s better to know where these demons might be hiding. We’ll also need to know the landscape surrounding the route you took to get here. The more prepared we are, the better.”

  John got up. “Try not to hold anything back. Anything Peter doesn’t know will only end up hurting you as well as us.”

  Peter pulled out his notebook and pen.

  “And what, you have something better to do than listen to me explain landscapes and layouts?” Arch asked as John headed for the door.

  “I do.”

  With that, he left the room. He looked at the enforcer standing outside B’s door.

  “The Head wants him. Let’s get going.”

  Without waiting, he walked down the stairs and sighed with a slight relief when he stepped back into the open air. He didn’t glance at B and the disturbing way the man seemed to smile at everything as though he knew some great secret.

  He’d drop the man off at the Head’s house and leave immediately. Whatever it was she wanted him for was none of his business. He found his hand going back to the stone around his neck, but he didn’t pull it out this time.

  Even so, he knew he could always find some comfort in its strange weight, no matter what the situation was.

  Decades had passed, and John still felt the pain of Lexand’s death as if it had just happened. As dangerous as this expedition was promised to be, this was the only way he could honor the promise he’d made to his brother.

  A promise to see the world, to travel, to journey, to live.

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