I had to get out of here.

Step one: get up.

Taking another deep breath, I attempted to roll over onto my stomach. If my arm was yelling in protest, my side was screaming with pure anguish. Stifling a gasp, I hoisted myself up onto my hands and knees, staying still for a couple of moments to catch my breath. Wiping my nose with my wrist, I pushed myself up. Daggers shot through my torso, ripping me apart. All I wanted was to lie down, and sleep. My eyes felt so heavy.

STAY AWAKE!

I widened my eyes, coughing, trying to keep myself awake. Step one, I thought. Completed—sort of. I wiped my mouth again, letting my coughs dry up. Come on, Tenna.

Placing my hand against the wall to stay up, I waited for a couple of moments. The pain seemed to come in waves, washing over me with every breath I took. My throat still seemed to be squeezed together—I wasn't able to suck in a lungful of air without coughing. My eyes darted through the empty hallway, trying to orient myself. My eyes rested on the maintenance locker behind the tacky statue of a woman with four breasts, legs and arms—or I was seeing double. The ground did seem to be tilting under my feet, so that wouldn't be a surprise.

With wobbly limbs, I somehow made it to the other side of the hallway, collapsing against the cool metal of the locker. My cheek collided with the surface, and I let out a sigh in relief. The throbbing of the bruises on my cheek seemed to lessen a bit, but I knew I couldn't stay long. With the rotation schedule of the sentries in the back of my mind, I bent down, picking up the hair pin I had dropped while fighting with Thorne.

Fumbling with the pin and wedging it in the slit between the wall and the locker, questions kept swirling around me. That didn't help with my dizziness at all. Why the hell was Thorne here? Did she know who I was? Who is she? And most of all: would Kael be okay?

When I heard the lock spring loose, I let out a small sigh in relief. I unconsciously let out a groan when I lifted my arm, hooking my fingers around the sharp edges of the locker. I glanced at the screen, where I actually should have inserted a code. Luckily, it didn't show any warning signals, so that was good. Putting all the strength I had left in my fingertips, I was able to wedge the locker open, even if it was but a centimetre. Then, I was able to curl my fingers around the metal and slide open the door. Soundlessly, it disappeared into the wall—luckily with room to spare. I hoped I would be able to grab onto the remaining few centimetres and pull it back. But that was for later concern.

Taking another deep breath and ignoring my broken rib (it felt that way, at least) I placed both of my hands in the locker, and hoisted myself up. Collapsing into the air vent, I laid still for a couple of moments, trying to regulate my wheezing breath. I pulled myself into the vent completely, and at last turned around to close the locker behind me. The vent closed with a definite click, enveloping me in darkness. With the bright white lights of the hallway gone, and the soft, familiar machine hum of the ventilation shafts returning, a part of my headache seemed to lessen. I took a few breaths, before starting to slide my fingers over the smooth walls of the vents.

My fingers bumped against a ridge, which I soon discovered to be a panel. Thank the gods. Somehow, I was able to press the button on the panel, which lit up blue. What felt like an eternity later, a familiar voice sounded through the air shafts:

"...Tenna? Where are you?" the hacker's voice sounded through the small speaker.

I pushed my fingers under my bodice, trying to grab hold of the flash drive, which would reveal my location to Mot. I frantically moved my fingers under my sore chest, but no avail. I couldn't find the drive—my bodice was empty.

"Mot," I managed, my voice sounding as croaky as the hacker at the other side of the line. "Help me."

I coughed, somehow managing to say where I was—but I never heard Mot's answer. The world faded to black, pulling me down with it.

* * *

You are not who you say you are.

I will find out.

I think I should have a nice talk with your friend.

* * *

I didn't know when my eyes fluttered open the first time, because I was fairly sure that I fell back asleep immediately after that. After a while of restless sleeping, I was finally able to hold them open for more than a second. The room was filled with dimness, and I could faintly recognise where I was. I exhaled deeply when it clicked in my mind—I was back at the unit. In my bunk bed, another standing on the opposite side, and my old boots neatly on top of the cupboard, next to my old clothes. Home.

My mind was foggy, my body felt stiff and my lips were as rough as sandpaper. My chest felt tight—I lifted a hand up to my torso, and wasn't surprised to find it completely wrapped up in bandages. Gingerly running my fingertips over my side, I only found my ribs to be throbbing with a constant, uncomfortable pain. My fingers followed their way, up my aching left arm, and resting on my face. I could feel my risen heartbeat in my lips, and my cheek felt raw. Letting my right arm fall back onto the mattress—the only part of my upper body that wasn't hurting, part from being sore—I heard a rustle next to me. I shot up, immediately falling back into my pillows once I made the movement. Pain shot through my side in two different places, my headache almost knocking me out. I coughed, my restricted chest burning with the violent movement.

"Don't get up. It's me," I heard a low voice groan.

I flipped my head to the side, seeing that there was someone lying in the bed opposite of mine—I had mistaken the heap for a pile of blankets and pillows. Vace slung his legs over the side of the bed, wiping a hand over his face. "I fell asleep," he said. I could only see his silhouette in the dim room. He was wearing a t-shirt and dark pants, his usual attire. He seemed to have left his sword behind. After a few moments, he lifted his head. He nodded, once. "How are you feeling?"

"Peachy."

"Very funny," Vace commented dryly. "You've been in and out of sleeping for two days. We've constructed the lie that you're not feeling well. Lady Blackwater has sent you her best wishes, by the way."

"Riven is a sweetheart," I mumbled, turning my gaze back up. I studied the metal bottom of the bunk above me—there were some words carved into the metal, but it was too dark for me to see. "Is Kael okay?" I dared to ask, preparing myself for the worst. "Is he..."

"Fairlands is fine. How are you?"

I let out a small sigh in relief. "That's the second time you asked," I said. "My ribs hurt," I said, my words changing into a coughing fit. My throat was still raw—I didn't even want to think about what I sounded like right now.

"You've broken two of them, so yes, I can imagine. You're coughing because a bone shard grazed your lung. You're lucky that it hasn't pierced it. You would be dead if we hadn't found you."

"Yay, lucky me." I mumbled again, shifting in the bed. "Are you always this nice to sick people?" I said, my eyes meeting his.

He only cocked his head. "Yes. I haven't made you stand up yet, have I?"

I huffed, but that only made a wave of pain wash over my sides. "That's very considerate of you."

"I know. Who did that to you?" Vace asked, not dwindling around the subject. "I can't believe you tripped that violently."

"I didn't. Thorne showed up out of nowhere—you can thank her for all of this."

Vace cursed. "Dammit," he said, "I knew something like this was going to happen." He stood up—the bed creaking in protest— exhaled deeply and started pacing through the room. I followed him with my eyes. "I shouldn't have let you try to get to the port. I should've waited." He ran his fingers through his messy black hair. I could see the shadows under his eyes, even in the dimness of the room.

"You know as well as I do that we couldn't have waited. But at least I now know where the port is," I said, remembering the enormous painting in Fairlands' study. It was so big... and then Kael. How he had been able to barge in like that... and the kiss. It had worked though, even when I didn't want to admit it. I didn't know how I felt about what happened—but I sure as hell hadn't forgiven him. As Vace had said before; we could use him. Maybe he could get the drive into the port, maybe he could help us succeed. But that would mean that I would have to trust him, and that would mean as well that I had to go back to the Residence. And if Thorne were there...

I think I should have a nice talk with your friend.

The memory suddenly flashed by in my mind, white-hot and clear as day. It had come back to me, in my fever dreams—that was what Thorne had said to me. The memory of the fight had been fuzzy before, but now it came back in full. The blood. The pain. Kael. I hoped to the gods he was safe, for if Thorne found him, this would all be over.

"Kael." I breathed, focussing my eyes on Vace. He stopped dead in his tracks.

"I told you, he is fine—"

"No—Thorne—she said she would find him. Talk to him. About me." I swallowed hard, and placed my hands flat on the mattress. My joints and muscles screaming in protest, I pushed myself up, trying to get myself into a sitting position. Vace immediately jumped over to me, pushing me back into the pillows.

"Lie back," he ordered, holding me down. I tried to push myself up, but I didn't have enough energy. I hadn't eaten for days—my body was too weak. "Tenna, this is for your own good. Allie said specifically that you could not stand nor sit—at least not for another day or two. You have to allow your body to heal," he said, looking straight at me. He sat on the bed, and I could feel the mattress bulge under his weight.

"But Kael is in danger! I have to warn him," I said, struggling once more. Suddenly I fell back into a fit of coughing, each cough sending a rupture of pain through my chest. I groaned, but leaned back. "Warn him, for me. Please," I pleaded, grabbing Vace's hand. "I know this is a strange request, especially after what he's done. But I've known him my entire life. I cannot let him be at risk with him not knowing of it."

"I'll get Allie to look at your injuries," Vace mumbled, giving my hand a small squeeze. He tried to get up, but I held on to him. It was too dark—I couldn't see his expression.

"No, Vace, I'm fine. Just—" I reached back, ignoring the aching of my ribs. I pressed the button just above my head, to switch on the light attached to the side of the bed. I had to look him in the eye, properly. I flicked the light on, and as a burst of lightning Vace lunged for the switch to turn it off again.

But it was too late—the damage had already been done.

Scars upon scars littered Vace's bare arms, red and white streaks running over each other, rippling over his skin like waves. His entire left arm was covered in them, and his right only from the elbow and up. It looked like waves of red had crashed over his skin, leaving smooth and rippled parts in its wake. I knew what kind of scars these were, since I had seen my fair share of them back at camp. These were burn scars. From years ago, already healed, but still there.

The darkness had returned, but I could still see them vividly in my mind.

Vace had completely frozen, and turned his back to me.

The silence that followed was heavy with anticipation, fear, and shame. We both knew what we were thinking, and I said it before I could help myself.

"You were Thorne's protégé."

The silence that followed gave me my answer.

"Vace, I—"

"Don't. Don't say anything. Don't pity me," he said, "It was a long time ago." His voice had died down to a whisper, barely audible above the hum of the Globe around us. I had gotten used to the sound, and now, in the silence between us two the soft buzz sounded like a raging thunderstorm.

He flinched away when I reached out for him. I withdrew my hand, pushing myself up so I could sit. I ignored my aching ribs. "But, I thought her trainee was dead," I said.

Vace frowned, glancing up to me. "How—" he muttered, and I could see him raking his brain for a memory of if he had told me, or if someone else had. When he quickly came to the conclusion, he cocked his head, staring at me intently.

I had to come clean, so I told him everything before I could change my mind. "I asked Balder about Thorne. He told me about how her protégé had died in a fire, and how it changed her into this cold, heartless monster. He didn't know more, but he did tell me that the fire was horrible, smoke rising all the way into the Lowers and all. But Balder did know for sure: Thorne's protégé was dead."

"I should've known you would ask him about her. But Balder only knows the story from the viewpoint of the regg," Vace said. "He doesn't know all of it."

"What happened?"

Vace finally levelled his gaze with mine, part of his old self coming back. "First I want you to know that I knew Niyla as a whole different person," he stressed. "She was like a mother to me. Just after she graduated, fourteen, fresh from the Academy, she decided to spend time in all the different branches of the Authority system—even in the network of the breeding programme," he said. His eyes focussed behind me—he was looking back at the past. "As a baby, I didn't accept any food unless directly given to me. I was slowly starving. Against all regulations, Niyla picked me up and nursed me back to health. Even while growing up, Niyla Thorne was always present in my life, even when I was at the Academy. When I was thirteen I graduated, and I became her right hand. We were inseparable for a couple of years. We did good." His eyes drifted off, as he kept talking. I held myself perfectly still, afraid to break the charm in which he seemed to linger.

"We rounded up dealers, shut down brothels... the Circuit was falling. But as much good as we did, we also did bad. Lots of bad. I thought it was for the greater good, but now I realise it was a power trip for her. Moulding me into this... monster. I will never forgive her for what she did to me."

Vace exhaled loudly, crossing his arms. Even though it was dark, I could see his posture relax a bit.

"I remember this one time, when we dragged a couple of courtesans up onto the street. They were still kids. We—I—" He paused for a moment. "They hadn't done anything, and still..."

Vace again took a deep breath. "I killed them. Afterwards, she told me to watch the uppers we had hidden behind the corner. Of course they would be fine. They were warned with a 'watch out better next time' and they were sent on their way back to their mansions. One of them pressed a credit transfer into her palm, and simply walked off. When I asked her about it, she said he was just giving her a handshake. She said that we wouldn't have much work to do the next few weeks. We had a gigantic fight after that."

He locked eyes with me again. "We never resolved our differences. I never forgave her for what she made me do to those kids—they were innocent. She just wanted to set an example, by killing children."

I nodded, not daring to speak a word.

"Being the angry, foolish child I still was, I set fire to the training room during one of our training sessions. I was still mad at her. I blew some fuses and the whole room stood ablaze. I was mesmerised by the raw, ancient power of the inferno. The heat, the destruction... I couldn't take my eyes off of it. That's when the pain began. I ran, but I was too late to stop my clothes from melting onto my flesh. I collapsed in one of the alleys, where Haco found me. He and Allie nursed me back to heath—it took weeks for me to recover. I now know there is a hell. I have seen it."

Vace slid his palms over his forearms. "I died in that fire. It changed her." He slid his hand up his left arm, where I could see the remains of a former arm scan. I could only recognise it by the black square still embedded in his skin—the rest was a grey blur. He wanted to cross his arms again, but I grabbed his hand before he could.

I lifted my hand, brushing my fingertips over the scars as a feather light touch. "Does it still hurt?" I asked, my fingers stopping at the chip.

"No," he said, "But the dreams will never stop. Thanks for waking me up."