My battered body is permitted barely a day to heal before Luca and I put the camp to our backs and depart for Babel.

Our journey is made long and strange by the necessity of walking. For once I don't mind the slow pace and allow myself to enjoy this in between. Out here I am free of expectations, of worry and of the inevitable march of time. We rest often, at Luca's insistence and I get the impression that he isn't eager to arrive, either.

I watch Luca busy himself preparing our meal while I change one of my dressings. For the thousandth time, I consider bringing up the fight with Jaron. Words gather on my tongue, jumbling together into a haphazard mess. I clench my lips shut tight as I try to concentrate on changing the bandage wrapped around my bruised ribs. My fingers turn clumsy and I have to bind and re-bind the dressing several times, adding to my frustration. I know that Luca's intervention in the fight prevented Jaron from beating me to a pulp, yet I can't figure out what I owe him in return. An apology? Thanks? An all-out brawl? None of the options seem to fit and so I take the coward's route, and stay silent.

"What is it?" Luca comes to sit beside me, handing over the leg of some rodent we scared up earlier that day.

"Hmm?" I am jerked free of my thoughts and now stare confused at his offering while pulling down my tunic.

Luca hands over the food and settles himself comfortably, stretching out across the blistering sand and appearing completely at home.

"There is something on your mind." He states, watching me sidelong. "Do you wish to tell me?"

"You're forgetting to combine your words, again." I remind him, dodging his question. "You have to say there's, not there is."

"There's something on your mind." Luca's exaggerated drawl causes me to snort with laughter.

Shaking my head, I remark offhandedly, "You know, it makes me a bit sad when I hear you speak differently. I always liked the way you talk."

"Why's that?"

"I just found your way to be so... what's the word..."

"Stimulating?"

"Perhaps sometimes." I wrinkle my nose in thought. "Quaint?"

"Quaint?" He feigns offense. "Remind me, again why I take language lessons from you. I am a savage but even I understand that word is archaic."

I kick some sand at him as he grins and shields himself. We lapse into a companionable silence, both of us picking at our meal in order to draw out it's measly offering.

"I was just thinking..." I trail off, studying the piece of bone left in my hand. Words fail me once again and I buy myself some time by wiping my hand on my thigh.

Luca waits for me to finish my fidgeting, ever unhurried.

"I was thinking... thinking that... gods." I stop fighting. "I don't know what I was thinking back in the camp."

"You and Jaron are so alike." Luca ponders aloud. "It's no wonder that you get under one another's skin."

I frown, annoyed at the observation until I begin to consider it. The possibility that there is something of myself reflected in the battle-hungry former chieftain is an idea as intriguing as it is troubling.

"In any case," I press on, "You shouldn't have been put in the position of having to tear us apart. I let my selfishness get the best of me. Again."

"You did warn me." Luca says slowly. "You said that if he pushed you, that you would stand against him." Sighing through his nose. "And push, he did."

"That doesn't make it right."

"If it's some consolation, know that I'm grateful to you for remaining in control."

Caught off-guard, I'm rendered speechless and can only stare at him.

"I know that you have been working hard to conquer the visions. It appears as though you're succeeding, that is no small feat."

I pull my scarf up over my face, groaning.

"How can you be embarrassed?" The fabric does little to dampen Luca's teasing.

"You know," I pop my head up and give him my most irritated expression, "Sometimes, I miss your old ways. You were a lot more tolerable back when you were a surly hostage."

He laughs, the sound ringing clear across the plateau.

We press on through the afternoon, our spirits remaining high until the huge, craggy rocks begin to make their appearance. I breathe in great lungfuls of the fresh air as we draw closer and closer, feeling as though these breaths will be my last until I force myself to remember Cade's lessons.

I am not trapped.

The cliff looms above, the impenetrable stone barring us from the sun. Luca appears at ease but I can sense the tension simmering beneath his surface. He catches me looking at him and quirks a small smile, his shoulders returning to their natural height. I mirror his grin and incline my head.

I am not alone.

Together, we slip into the darkness.

My senses are a thousand times more heightened in the caves, every small sound sending a warning shock through me. We tread carefully, our path drawn by the turns we take to avoid the roving packs of Scorched. Eventually, we locate a hatch against the sewer wall that leads to Babel's underground chambers. My hands close around the rusted iron and I ready myself to face what lies beyond.

The door swings open and we step through, finding ourselves amongst silence and utter ruin.

The inner chambers and their tunnels are blocked at nearly every turn. The stone foundations have crumbled, their maws covered by piles of fallen rocks. Luca and I pick our way from room to room, pulling aside the heavy stones and climbing through the few pockets we are able to traverse.

Tawny and the other members of her underground are nowhere to be found. We scour the various tunnels and chambers but are continually met only with roadblocks. Smashed light bulbs flicker, revealing metal shards, murky puddles and piles and piles of rocks. It isn't until we stumble upon a tucked-away chamber beneath some of Babel's farmland that we uncover a clue about what happened down here.

The steel walkways overhead are twisted and bent, ripped from their supports and dangling freely over the wreckage below. The scaffolding swaying and creaking above us is dismissed as a product of my imagination, since it's clear that whatever event transpired here is now days old. Carefully, we navigate our way between burned-out drums and soot-covered cots. Luca crouches down and sifts through the debris, withdrawing a hand blackened by sticky tar. Exchanging disgusted looks, we upturn some of the rubbish to reveal the corpse of a Brute.

I drop to my knees without thought, frantically clearing the last of the rubble from it's face, refusing to breathe until I'm certain it's not him.

Luca attempts to wipe the tar from his hand as he watches me rise back to my feet.

"Expecting someone?" He asks.

"You never know." I hand him a rag cut from the Brute's uniform, keeping my eyes averted from his. "Brutes could turn out to be anyone. The Madam obviously isn't all that picky, anymore." An image of poor, petite Mia stretched out on the slab springs to mind.

Luca doesn't reply and I busy myself looking for signs of where the fallout's survivors may have trodden. Though I appear intent on my search, my thoughts are a thousand miles away.

Jaron figured out that I'm looking for Will, but I am unsure of what he told Luca. An uncomfortable sinking in my stomach reminds me that Jaron would likely take any measure to sever me from his brother, and what could be more effective than revealing the full extent of my madness? Not to mention the traitorous nature of my heart.

Running my hand along the ridge of a pockmarked hatch door, I chance a look back at Luca.

Does he know? No, I reject the idea immediately. In no conceivable world would Luca stay if he understood the full truth: that I'm waging a war in the vain hope that doing so would resurrect the dead.

You have to tell him. He has the right to know.

My stomach twists further. The idea of continuing on without Luca scares me more than I could ever admit. Anxieties claw at my insides while the whispers continue to hiss in my ear.

Then again, what if Jaron told him the truth and he's choosing to stay, despite it?

What would that mean?

"Over here." Luca calls out.

I blink myself back to focus, making my way around the rubble and over to him. At first he appears to be studying an unremarkable rock wall; it isn't until I draw closer that I see the barely-visible hole dug into it.

Luca makes to crawl through when I clap a hand down on his shoulder, halting him.

"Wait." I say, "Are we sure that Tawny and the others got out this way? What if this is the route something took to get in." A cold chill worms it's way through me, causing my legs and arms to tingle.

Luca sits back. "This is the way out." He affirms. "The displaced debris is all here. See?" He points out the mess around us, the pieces of the wall indistinguishable from the rest of the bedlam.

I nod, but the thrum of warning remains.

"What is it?" He is standing now, his hand hovering near his sidearm.

My eyes dart up to the scaffolding, at the guardrail that I first imagined to be swaying in the nonexistent breeze. The dim light disguises truth but I am patient and a few moments later, I see it. The flicker of movement.

"Someone's here." I whisper.

Within an instant his bow is notched and drawn, the point of an arrow directed to the rafters. We continue to search the shadows as my mind works feverishly, considering and dismissing the various escape routes. Remaining in the chamber offers the benefit of fighting on open ground.

Echoes ring through the cavernous space, fed by dripping water and unseen pipes. My ears strain to make sense of the noises and the telltale mechanical click nearly comes too late.

Luca's arrow is released as I shove him to the ground and in behind a pile of rocks, throwing my arms up to shield us from the unholy explosion shattering the room. Sharp stones rain down, pelting us for what feels like an eternity. Luca grabs hold of me as soon as the chaos slows, pulling me so that we're both crouched and the rocks create a kind of barrier between us and our invisible attacker.

"Are you hurt?" Luca notches another arrow.

"No. You?"

"No."

We peer over the rock wall, straining to see through the dust. The broken scaffolding overhead shudders and squeaks as someone runs across it. The chamber's reverberations make it difficult to discern the different sounds but I count at least three distinct footsteps. Readjusting my grip on my bow, I curse myself for not waiting until I was healed before coming back to Babel.

"Consider that a warning!" A disembodied voice floats down to us. "We only give one."

Abruptly, I abandon my considerations of possible escape routes.

"Tawny!" I shout angrily, keeping my weapon raised. "Gods' sake, it's us!"

Silence, and then the footsteps move further down the platform. A bone-rattling screech tells me that they've dropped a ladder but I remain tensed, waiting until Tawny and the others appear through the gloom before rising to my feet.

Tawny raises an eyebrow, indicating our weapons. "You going to put those down?"

"That depends," I nearly vibrate as rage and adrenaline colour my veins. "Are you going to drop another explosive on us?"

"At this proximity? Not if I want to keep my limbs.".

I finally lower my bow. "What in the gods' name is wrong with you? You could have killed us!"

"If I wanted you dead, you would be." Tawny says coldly. "The Brutes wouldn't have given you as much. You're lucky that we found you before they did."

I think back to the collapsed tunnels and kick myself for not being more weary of any nearby mechanical Enforcers. Destruction of such a precise nature could only be the work of the Madam.

My fury abates somewhat but I refuse to back down. "So, you shoot first, ask questions later? Is that the kind of rebellion you're running?"

"You up and vanished a fortnight ago without so much as a warning, how was I to know when you'd be back? Or even if you would return." Tawny matches me beat for beat, her tone maddeningly even. I think of how close those rocks came to crushing our heads and at once the red cloud comes roaring forward; apparently poised and waiting for me to set a foot back within Babel's walls.

I focus on the stubborn girl before me, drawing from Cade's lessons and forcing away the crimson. Tawny stands flanked by two other rebels, their expressions more akin to amusement than intimidation.

"It's not exactly easy to get word into this place." I say through gritted teeth "And I don't think an extended absence deserves a display of fireworks."

"Fireworks? That was nothing." Tawny lifts her chin a little higher. "Who do you think brought down this chamber?"

My eyes flick involuntarily towards the ceiling, taking in the destruction. "You did this?"

"I had good reason. Now if you'll come on, we have to get out of here. The Brutes have sealed off these tunnels but they still patrol the remains."

"In that case, " I shove my arrow back in it's quiver with more force than necessary. "Come, Luca. Let us follow the girl with the bombs towards safety."

We trail the rebels, following them up the rickety ladder and into the maze of ruined scaffolding, exiting through a narrow door and zigzagging up the stairs towards the surface. Luca pushes his way past me as Tawny eases open a door marked with a faded A, emerging in Babel's ground level a step ahead.

Tawny leads us through a corridor and towards the artificially-lit beyond, where a man lounges against the wall near the exit. Geoff barely glances at the rest of us but gives Luca an approving nod. "Finally back, I see."

"We found them loitering below, making enough of a racket to wake every Brute and Scorched in the dome." Tawny looks at me pointedly. "Not their fault, you see. Your apprentice and his girl were absent the day the tunnels famously became uninhabitable."

"Ain't that something." Geoff remarks. His gaze flicks to me. "Your hair always been dark?"

"Yes." I challenge, agitated by the conversation and still reeling from the underground dramatics.

Geoff's bushy brows knit together but Tawny speaks up before he can voice his doubt. "So, is the coast clear?"

"Clear as it gets." Geoff nods into the distance, indicating the dusty path leading out the door, past a long stretch of crops and down into the city. "You'd better keep moving, my shift ends soon and if I'm spotted anywhere near you I intend to sell your asses down the river so fast you'd think you were trout."

"Thanks for the heads-up." Tawny reponds dryly.

We move out of the underground's service entrance and into the farmer's field. I notice that the crops we pass are little more than shrubs, their prickly leaves scorched and dried while the farmhouse we're approaching appears as abandoned as the produce. Wooden shutters hang haphazardly from window frames and part of the roof is collapsed. I wrinkle my nose as we draw closer, the smell of rot filling my nostrils.

"Home sweet home." Tawny pauses at the front door and raps her knuckles against it in a complicated series of knocks. We wait several beats before the door opens and another member of Tawny's crew ushers us inside.

False sunlight filters in through the ruined ceiling, revealing flecks of dust and a half dozen assorted rebels. Luca and I remain near the door, each silently taking in our surroundings. Shadowed hallways show me glimpses of what I think is a small sitting room as well as a kitchen. I notice that the maps tacked up on the walls are scorched and curling at the edges but before I can open my mouth to comment on the shabby-chic decor, Tawny whirls on me.

"By the gods of thunder, where have you been?" Her neutral expression is at once murderous.

The anger I felt back in the cave roars to life and I make my answer short in an effort to keep the cloud at bay. "I had business to attend to, back in the desert."

"And you didn't think to let anyone know?" Tawny demands. "You prefer to just disappear in the night like some common thief?"

"But I am a common thief," I say, the picture of innocence. "And I wasn't aware that I was being minded."

"When you disappear without warning for two weeks, I think we have the right to be uneasy." Tawny's hands are balled into fists are her sides. "We had a deal."

"This deal you speak of." Though we are already practically nose-to-nose, I take a step closer to Tawny. "Remind me what exactly it is that I owe you. The way I recall the conversation, you came to me for help. Forgive a thief's ignorance, but where I come from that means that I don't owe you a single, bloody thing."

Tawny's fingers furl and unfurl, but she says nothing and so I continue.

"Luca and I will come and go as we please. We are not bound to you and your cause, just as you are not bound to us and ours. We have a common enemy and I will help you defeat her, as promised but I will do it in my own way."

"Your way is proving unpredictable."

"A strategy that has worked very well for me in the past."

"Perhaps not as well as you think." Tawny manages to meet my eye, despite being half a head shorter than I am. "The streets of Babel are awash with talk that the Runner is building an army. It's because of you that the Madam sent Brutes to raid the underground. She is getting wise to the rebellion."

"Sparks always precede a fire." Luca speaks up. "This unrest is to be expected."

A grin escapes me, twisting my lips wickedly. "Precisely. We've got the Madam on her toes, now. Between the rumours of my warriors out in the desert and you dropping literal bombs on her doorstep, she's getting scared."

"We had her scared before you showed up." Tawny refuses to be swayed. She gestures to the maps and rebels surrounding her, using the opportunity to take a step away from me. "This isn't some small-time operation you're dealing with. We were well on our way to bringing the Madam down without you and in fact, I'm beginning to think that we may not need your help at all."

"Is that so?" I ask, "In that case, pray tell when you are planning to strike. I ask because I'd wager that you were still months away from breaching the Tower."

"Weeks."

"Weeks?" I laugh without mirth. "Forgive me, I just think that is so...what's the word?"

"Quaint?" Luca offers and I nod.

"Exactly." I walk over to one of the maps nailed to the dingy wall, examining the crudely-drawn lines with a wry amusement. "And Luca, can you remind me when our warriors will be arriving?"

"Twelve days."

"That's it." I turn back around, feeling no small sense of satisfaction as I take in the wide-eyed expressions drawn before me. Tawny's face has turned pale and her freckles stand out starkly. I look her meaningfully, tilting my head in question.

She swallows, regaining some of her colour. When she speaks, her voice is hoarse. "Twelve days."

"That's right." I affirm. "And Luca, what do you estimate our numbers will have reached by then?"

"It is difficult to know." Luca's forehead wrinkles. "Twelve days is a long while. By then I should say...thousands."

"Thousands?" Tawny's voice is now barely a whisper.

"Upon thousands." Luca corrects her.

Shock reverberates through the rickety house. No one speaks a word but Luca and I wait patiently, our poise that of a pair of hunters. When I feel that the unfortunate rebels have been held in suspense long enough I begin walking again, slowly tracing a path around the small room while Tawny and the others spin in place, unwilling to take their eyes from me.

"I have something to confess. Despite the hostile nature of some of your members," I cast a pointed at Tawny. "I've grown attached to this scrappy little pack of survivors. I admire your cleverness, I really do. I'd dare say I've even come around to your flare for dramatics." Drawing to a stop, I lean back against the wall, letting my earnestness drive my words. "The thing of it is, I would much prefer to fight this battle with you all by my side."

The rebels shuffle in place but not even the brash Tawny has enough courage to speak.

I exhale a sigh. "Of course, you are free to do as you will. If you no longer want my help, then I will respectfully withdraw back to the desert for the next week or so. It was never my wish to overrun your plans."

Straightening, I move to Luca, placing my hand on his arm as if to push him out the door. No sooner do I press than I hear the fateful word.

"Wait."

Tawny has found her voice. She swallows, drawing her narrow shoulders back and lifting her chin. I do as she asks, halting in my tracks and raising my brows in question.

"We're with you." She says, matter-of-factly. The rebels gathered behind her wear similar looks of determination. Relief floods me and my bluster momentarily wavers. Ducking back within the safety of my Runner persona I grin and extend a hand, clasping Tawny's wrist in a firm grip.

With the cloud banished for now and the loyalty of the rebels firmly cemented, my mind begins to reel with the onslaught of new information. Outside these walls, I spent a great deal of time plotting the takeover of Babel, plans that need to be redrawn now that the tunnels are mostly unusable. Not to mention the fact that we're suddenly dealing with a rebel leader well-versed in explosive warfare.

The fact that Tawny is capable of possessing—let alone detonating—bombs disturbs me greatly but I push that problem aside for now. There will be time enough to deal with this small piece of the puzzle.

Twelve days, to be precise. In affirming the alliances with Tawny and Jaron, I now possess nearly everything I need. The sensation that precedes leaping full-tilt into the beyond floods through me, more enticing than any delusional clouds. My aim is not to bring about food for my people or justice for my brother. Surprisingly, what I want most isn't even the near-impossibility of bringing Will back.

No. My greatest wish is to finish the Madam the same way that she tried to finish me. When her ending approaches, I want her to look up at me and come to the same horrible realization she forced me to face eight long months ago.

That her undoing was entirely my design.