Page 46 of Interion

More people in white coats came running, and once again commotion filled the room. The man didn’t want to let go of my hand, so nurses pushed him and doctors tried to convince him, but his stance was iron and his resolve seemed even stronger.

The shadows were out of control; they extended toward me, clustered around me. One even dared to climb up the doorframe and stare into my eyes, as if pleading. The light called my name, and life began to pass before my eyes. Suffering, pain, and loss were the only things there. The deaths of people I had loved, everyone who had been part of my existence, flashing by quickly.

The man named Zion remained unwavering. He kissed my cadaverous hands, wetting them with tears that fell like rivers from his eyes, yet he didn’t plead. He had given me choices and simply kept looking at me while the nurses tried to drag him away. A human doctor opened the surgical gown covering me. My rib cage was exposed, every bone protruding beneath the skin, and soon another doctor arrived with the defibrillator. Zion pulled his hands away while the doctor tried to revive me. There was as much pain in his eyes as I carried in my own chest.

And that raw, immeasurable pain was what made me decide.

With one last look at the tunnel, I extended my hand to the insistent little shadow. It jumped to me and nestled in my palm; it felt warm, like black smoke. I turned around and, against all logic, passed through him and lay down on my body.

In that moment, the man looked directly at me, and it was as if he truly saw me as I settled back into my body. His eyes were red, and tendrils of shadow peeked over his shoulders. Still shaken by the whole scene and seeming unable to believe what he saw, the man whispered in relief:

“Thank you.”

Chapter 13

“Are you listening to me?” Breno asked. I blinked, disoriented, tearing my gaze away from the three figures in rough shape near the entrance.

“What?” I stared at my friend. He was clearly waiting for an answer, but I had no idea what he’d asked. We were sitting on the losers’ bench, and his right eye sported a purple bruise that made him look wild.

“I can’t believe I’ve been talking to myself for ten straight minutes and you weren’t even listening,” Breno grumbled, tossing his phone onto the table in front of us and crossing his arms over his chest, sulking.

“I was listening. You said there’s a pre-graduation party on September 30th, a month and a half from now,” I replied, trying to recall the rest of what he’d said.

The truth is, when Adrian, Miverik, and Ethan walked through the gym door covered in bruises, I completely lost focus on the conversation. All three were in terrible shape: Adrian had his left arm in a sling; Miverik had probably broken his nose and had it reset, judging by the horrible bruising around his nose and eyes; and Ethan was wearing a cervical collar and limping slightly. I couldn’t look away from them, my mind spinning with theories about what had happened. One thing was obvious: if they were injured and using human medical equipment, it was because they hadn’t gone to the hospital. And if they hadn’t gone to the hospital, it was because they didn’t want anyone to know what had happened to them.

“Yes! It’d be awesome if you came with me. It’s an official class party, Kay!”

“Where exactly is this party?” I asked, giving him my full attention.

I watched his smile fade.

“In the faeric district.”

I rolled my eyes.

“You know it’s complicated for me to go there. Especially after yesterday.” The last thing I needed was to show up at a party full of arrogant faerics and end up causing more trouble.

“I know, Kay. Those bastards deserve a slow, painful death. The car they were in should’ve flipped harder. Would’ve done the whole faeric race a favor.”

We glanced toward the left corner of the mat, where Adrian, Ethan, and Miverik huddled together, heads down, avoiding eye contact with the rest of the class. Naoki wasn’t there—he was still recovering—but he’d be released in two days, thanks to Dr. Selene’s surgical skills.

“Wait!” I turned to Breno, frowning. “What car?”

“You didn’t hear?” Breno asked, leaning back against the wall with a satisfied expression. “Apparently they got into an accident early this morning. When we woke up in the dorm, they were already like this. They said a dog ran into the road and they lost control.”

“Hmm,” I muttered, thinking about how suspicious it all seemed. My eyes kept shifting between the three boys and Zion, who was explaining an attack move to Lorena. Sometimes I caught him glaring at the boys with a murderous look, and other times his gaze would land on me before quickly darting away, his expression blank. In those moments, I couldn’t stop thinking about last night—the damn note I’d found that morning was burning a hole in my pocket.

Zion was right there, twenty meters away, but it felt like a black hole had formed between us, swallowing any chance of interaction. I didn’t know what to think about the boys anymore, but something told me this wasn’t a car accident—it was a Zion accident. And that left me even more confused.

“I’m sorry I wasn’t there with you.”

“By Nuadros’s beard, Breno!” I exclaimed, turning to face him. “Enough already—you’ve apologized like ten times, and it’s not even your fault. Everything’s fine, okay?”

“Everything’s not fine, Kay. Those sons of bitches practically beat you up and tried to assault Adele—that’s definitely not fine. I think it’s absurd that Yonserians still pull this sexist crap. It makes no sense for them to think they’re the most evolved beings on Jupiter and keep treating their own women like garbage.”

Just thinking about it made me shiver. Yonser was notorious for its sexist, patriarchal culture. The situation had improved somewhat over the years, thanks to the UFNO—the United Four Nations Organization—which had been intervening for the past decade after uncovering various horrific practices against women.

I stared at Anninka, sitting on the winners’ bench. Her vrokiu sat firmly over her hair, and black clothing still covered every inch of her skin, leaving only her pale face and violet eyes visible, accentuated by black eyeliner. This was one of the many issues being slowly addressed. During the UFNO interrogations, Yonserian leaders had defended their nation’s dress code, claiming it wasn’t meant to oppress their women but was a custom spread by the religion of Anabel, the Goddess of Death. They’d also argued that the vrokiu, along with the thermal clothing, protected their sensitive skin from solar rays that could cause cancer.