I wake to a knock at the door. I was drifting through a sea of stars, lost in dreams of memories—narrow escapes and fiery pain, ebony horns and lightning eyes, a girl with a wolf and a promise I made to myself in the darkest moments. And what lingers the most, above all, are the amethyst lights of a district that was never a home but is now out of reach.

The comfort of a bed rests beneath me, the scent of cinnamon filling each breath I take. Something furry brushes against my bare arm, followed by a wet nose nudging my hand, making it nearly impossible to keep my eyes closed. Footsteps cross the room and a door creaks open, letting in another pair.

"What are you doing here?" a light voice asks, her lyrical tone reminding me of the girl in the alley. She quiets. "You've got some nerve showing up here right now. Half the city has it out for you."

"Don't be so dramatic, Gidget," another voice answers, the sly familiarity of it sky-rocketing my pulse. Macon. He's the one who knocked. "Is she still in one piece?"

"How did you know I brought her here?"

"I know someone, who knows a Dusker, who knows an orc who helped you bring her back to your place."

"Zero, remind me to let you kill Tiny the next time we see him," Gidget says. A low growl rumbles next to me. I can't help but sneak a quick peak at the white wolf that leaves my side and moves toward the girl. I recognize the girl's light brown, freckled face as the one from the alley and for a brief second rage flares within me at the image of her drugging me, but then I remember her whispered promise of help.

Macon shifts and I snap my eyes closed, my heartbeat thrumming in my ears as his footsteps echo across the room toward me. The heat of him engulfs me when he stops at my side. He smells of embers and smoked wood and all kinds of trouble, and even though I hate him entirely, there is something comforting about the warmth he radiates. I'm not sure if it's from his natural or supernatural electricity.

"When will she wake up?" he asks.

"Let me check my doctor's notes." Gidget pauses for a moment. "Oh. Wait, I forgot. I'm not a doctor, you ass. Why do you even care? Based on the cam feeds I watched, she doesn't seem to like you very much. But damn, she can drive. I bet she could give Clarx Bolton a run for his shinies."

"Yeah..." he trails off. I feel him shift next to me. "I'm sure she hates me."

"Everyone hates you. What's new?"

"Can you just—" Macon sighs in frustration. "Can you shoot me a message when she wakes up?"

"Maybe," Gidget answers. "If I'm feeling generous. I might be feeling even more generous if you can swipe me some of those spicy pixstix the Ivory District keeps to themselves. They're fucking delicious." Zero whines from somewhere in the room and Gidget speaks again. "And snag Zero something raw and meaty, but not from that butcher in the Cobalt District. Zero said it tasted funky."

"He told you that?" Macon asks skeptically. When she doesn't answer, he sighs again. "You know I only use my skills for the greater good." His fake innocence makes me want to throttle him.

"Pixstix and meat, chump," Gidget reminds him. I imagine her standing there with her hand splayed, waiting for her prize to be handed over. "You know what, maybe some Eclipsies too."

"You're pushing it," Macon growls.

"But have you ever tasted them?"

Silence from Macon.

"We got ourselves a deal then?" Gidget asks.

Macon groans. "Fine. I'll have it delivered here as soon as I get the goods. But I expect a message when she comes to."

"You better hope your foxes run fast then, because I'm not saying anything until those crunchy, spicy morsels and those creamy cookies are in my mouth."

Zero woofs.

"Yeah, yeah," Macon grumbles to the wolf, I assume. "I got it—you too." He leaves my side, his footsteps fading with his voice. I suddenly find myself not wanting him to leave, so I can learn more about him, so I can use the information to my advantage against him.

I tell myself it's the only reason why—not because he is the most intriguing person I've ever met, or because I might need his magic for protection, or because he smiled when I flipped him off and brought hell with me. Yet they're all thoughts that drift through my mind, uninvited and dripping with shame. Stars Above, I'm just like one of those female characters in the books on the FicNet who pine after the worst romantic choice they could possibly make, insta-love clouding their minds like Ether.

Then Macon leaves, the door closing behind him, his footsteps fading down a hallway. I remain still in the bed, hesitant to make it known that I'm awake. I don't know if I'm ready to face it all.

"He's gone," Gidget says, scaring the shit out of me.

My eyes pop open and I clutch my racing heart as if squeezing my chest will somehow help. I find her easily, standing at the foot of the bed in a baggy, dark green jacket lined with pockets upon pockets. Her tight curls are pulled back into a bun on the very top of her head and on her hands are black fingerless gloves. A knowing smile spreads across her full lips. She knew I was awake the entire time.

"I thought you weren't a doctor," I say.

"Anyone with eyes could tell your breathing changed once Falcove entered the room," Gidget says with a laugh.

"Where am I?" I ask, glancing around the small windowless room, from the micro-sized kitchen in the corner and the couch along the far wall, to the high-tech table and mediascreens in the corner closest to me.

"The Emerald District," Gidget says, watching for my reaction. The Emerald Distrtict was orc territory. The House of Teeth has to know about my flight by now. But would they take their shot at me, try to recruit me, or offer me to the highest bidder? I don't want to find out.

I try to prop myself up and regret my decision as pain shoots from my left shoulder and down through my ribs. The memory of hitting the pavement strikes me again with another aching wave.

"You shattered your shoulder," Gidget explains. "You broke two ribs and had a few nasty gashes above your brow, on your cheekbone, and by your temple. The backs of your hands were singed, and you had road rash from head to toe."

I glance down at my unmarred skin, confused. Again, Gidget uses her mind-reading powers, or maybe I just really am that easy to read, because she answers my questions without me asking.

"I have a friend from the Ivory District who owes me," she said. "Had her bring over the fancy stuff—Silk for your scars, Fuse for your bones. Your shoulder and ribs will take just a few more days to completely heal, but with your elf-ness, you're healing even faster than she predicted."

"My elf-ness?"

"Yeah." Gidget shrugs. "First thing that came to my head to describe your unique anatomy. Sorry if that bothers you. Anyways, the Silk couldn't do anything for those Nightstalker scars on your back." She turns and walks away and mumbles the next bit quietly as if hoping I won't hear her. "...or your hair."

"My hair?" My voice hitches. "What's wrong with my hair?" I reach up, brushing my fingers against the fried ends and tangling in the matted mess created by the daybreaker explosions. It is foolish to be upset about something so small, but I've always felt my long white sheet of hair somehow connects me to the ancestors I am so detached and different from.

Gidget plops into a high-backed swivel chair in front of a glass tech-table across the room. Behind her, the wall is covered with different-sized mediascreens, each one displaying a variety of things, from cam feeds to Net pages to strings of coding. The tech casts a blue and pink glow around the room, the texture on the adjacent walls mirroring light reflecting on water. Gidget types in a string of coding, her fingers dancing across the lit-up keyboard in the glass so quickly, it's like time is elapsing at rapid speed.

"My name is Gigi Soltaire," she says, gazing up at the screen in the top left corner as she continues typing. "But my friends call me Gidget."

"So, Macon is your friend?" I ask.

"Let me reword that. Everyone calls me Gidget."

"I'm Alyndra," I say. "Alyndra Ilira."

"Ilira," Gidget muses. "So, you're a Lost One then. Either you don't know your true name or you abandoned it. Which one is it?"

I'm stunned silent for a moment, scrambling for a response. It seems this girl knows absolutely everything there is to know about anything. "How did you know?"

"I'm a bit of an info hoarder," she replies. "Comes as a hobby with the photographic memory." She taps the side of her head. "According to my research, Ilira is the name taken by the lost elves—the orphaned, the outcast, and those wishing to start anew. So... which one is it?"

"I—I don't—" I stumble over my words, debating whether or not to tell her that I don't know who I am or where I came from. That I only have the memory of a cool and calm voice of who I assume is my father and a warmth I pretend is my mother. That I'm just someone who has nothing and everything I did have, I didn't want. I don't tell her my mind is a twisted mess and I'm buried neck-deep in this sea of gangs in this fractured city. So instead, I tell her everything in one simple sentence. "There's just me."

"Well," Gidget says. "Now there's just you, me, and Zero."

My throat closes up. Tears prick in my eyes at the kind notion and I'm almost foolish enough to accept it as genuine—I've learned my lesson the hard way. But it doesn't mean I can't try to make friendships and allies, I just need to be more careful, keep my guard up, my ears peaked.

"You're smaller than what the elves used to be," Gidget says nonchalantly, changing the mood instantly. "Not as tall or regal and majestic looking."

I'm slightly insulted.

The smile falls from Gidget's face when she looks at me. "But it's what I like about you. You're different."

"And what about you?" I ask, pushing attention onto her as I glance at the gadgets and technology around her. I haven't gotten a close look at her eyes because of the dimly lit room, but I assume that her irises spin like the rest of the tech-humans. "Don't all the tech-humans live in the Ivory District?"

Gidget throws her head back and laughs. Zero mirrors her with a yip. "I'm not a techie," she says.

"But what about all of this?" I motion to the glowing tech-table and the blinking mediascreens.

"Just because I'm smart and amazing with tech, doesn't mean I have advanced genetics. No, the techies wish they could think like me. Their minds are closed in a box of logic and algorithms of input, output, calculations, and statistics. But me... I'm free, Elfie."

"Don't call me Elfie," I say, but my voice isn't as intimidating as I hoped.

"Oh, come on," she teases. "It's cute. So how long have you worked for the House of Horns?" she asks, throwing me for a loop. It's as if she has a talent for changing the subject.

"You weren't kidding about the info hoarding, were you?" I try to prop myself up again, this time a little slower since I'm now fully aware of my injuries.

Gidget pulls up a new cam feed on the widest mediascreen across the top. In the video, three white zoomers turn onto Crescent Cross chasing another zoomer just like theirs, chasing me. "I hacked Voltyss's cam system a few years ago," Gidget says. "I've seen a Dusker drive a glider naked through the Ivory District and I've seen a unicorn escape the zoo. But of all the crazy shit I've seen, this is one of my favorites." Her fingers swipe at the glass table and the clip zooms in further, the feed slowing down as one of the Horns' zoomers flips over my own, shards of glass gleaming in the air, flames still burning from a daybreaker blast. "I did some facial recognition scans and did some digging through the cam archives. Found some clips of you as a lightrunner, you and Macon, you and Venjo Zhane."

Venjo.

My heart plummets at the thought of the lorkin who saved me. I have to make sure he is okay. He has to be. I grit my teeth and rise up, gripping the side of the bed with white knuckles. "Can you pull a feed from anywhere in Voltyss right now?" I ask breathlessly. My shoulder and ribs ache more than before, but I remain upright, watching the screens closely.

Gidget turns to look at me, concern narrowing her dark eyes. "Are you okay? Don't strain yourself."

"Can you?" I press.

"Yeah, where?"

"The House of Horns. I need to make sure Venjo is okay."

"I'm assuming things between you two have changed then?" she prods as she types on her keyboard, the string of coding inputting in the top left mediascreen.

"Everything has changed," I reply.

I watch the screens cycle through cam feeds around the districts, from Cobalt to Ivory, Amethyst to Emerald. The screen at the top stops on a familiar alley, a white building with a dangling overhead light at the end. The feed cuts to a closer cam, showing the main door and Grit and Grubble standing on either side. For some reason, a deep part of me wishes I was there. Do they hate me for my betrayal? Do they blame me for the death of their friend? I shouldn't care what they think, but I do.

My voice is quiet when I speak. "Can you see inside?"

"If there are cams inside, I'm sure I can hack them."

I trace over my memories, my mind lingering on the corners in rooms and hallways inside of the House of Horns, but I don't recollect any cams. The more I think about it, the more I realize Jojin wouldn't want to give anyone the opportunity to spy on him. "No," I tell Gidget, disappointment soaking my voice. "There are no cams inside."

Gidget pulls her hands away from the keyboard and swivels her chair around to face me. She watches me intently as Zero stood from his relaxed position next to her. "Listen, I'll put an alert on the cams surrounding the area and I'll keep an eye out for Venjo. Promise he deserves my time?"

I nod and open my mouth to reply. But when I take a deep a breath, a sharp pain speared through my ribs and I cringe, bringing my hand to my side. I press against it to hold in the pain.

"You're going to hate me," Gidget groans. "But you need another dose of Fuse and it's going to hurt like a bitch. I can give you some Nether the doc left to numb the pain though. You can have a nice sleep?"

Yeah, a sleep filled with dreams of painful memories.

"I can handle it," I tell her, even though the fear spreading through my veins told me I can't.

Gidget raises her eyebrows, her expression impressed. Then she stands and comes back to the bedside. Zero follows close behind, his mismatched eyes seeming to glow in the windowless room. She rummages around in the drawer next to the bed and I glance down at my empty hands resting on my knees. Zero nudges my fingers with his wet nose and I turn my hand over, letting my fingers brush through his white fur.

Gidget doesn't warn me before she plunges the needle into my shoulder. Liquid fire melts my bones. "Sorry," she says. I can barely hear her over the roar in my ears. "It's better when you're not bracing for the pain." Then she jabs me again in the ribs before I can even think about the next injection.

This time, a cry wrenches from my throat and Zero lets me hold him tight without complaint. The Fuse burns inside my shoulder and across my ribs, healing the cracks and shattered pieces. A cold bite is left behind the trail of fire and I suddenly start shivering, trembling so hard that Zero whimpers under my touch. I jerk away and murmur a shaky apology as I toss myself back into the bed, pulling the covers up to my chin. The cold still keeps me as its prisoner.

"I'll get you another blanket," Gidget says

She disappears—Zero following her in and out of the room—and returns with a heavier blanket. She throws it over me and the warmth pulls me back to sleep as the Fuse thaws.