My eyelids spring open, and I suck in a large breath of air. Not a single noise touches my eardrums, the soundlessness sending a rush of undiluted terror through my veins.

Bolting upright, my gaze drops to my body, which is no longer drenched in water. Not even the tattered dress I’ve been wearing for days has a drop on it.

Blinking several times, I take in a blue sky, the grimy brick walls around me, and then the strangely familiar ground I’m sitting on. I run my fingers along the cold, bumpy surface, the name gradually clicking.

“Asphalt.” I frown. How do I know that? This wasn’t in the red sky planet. It could have been in the Leviter Station, though. Could that be where I am?

I peer around the alleyway crammed with overflowing and toppled garbage cans. No, there’s no way this smelly, dirty place could be the station. Maybe this is the Broken City. Then why does the sky appear blue underneath the smog? My blue-skied world, perhaps? Why doesn’t it feel like I’m there?

“Allura! Can you hear me?” Blaise’s voice carries down the alleyway.

My knees wobble as I battle to get my balance. “Over here …” My voice cracks as the world spins around me. I brace my hand against the brick wall to keep from falling. “I’m … here.”

“Allura!” he shouts again. “Can you hear me?”

I clear my dry throat and force my voice to come out stronger. “Yes! I’m over here!”

Footsteps grow louder with each passing second. I angle my head to the right and spot a figure jogging toward me. For a second, I worry it might be a stranger. Then I note the blond hair shaved on one side, the metal facial piercings, and the most intense eyes I’ve ever seen.

Instantly, I relax. “Blaise.”

“I thought I’d lost you for a second.” He stops when he reaches me, sweeping hair out of his eyes. “Are you all right?”

I nod, trying not to gawk at his bare chest, but my gaze has other ideas and keeps wandering downward.

Muscles cut every inch of him, and his flesh is covered with dark ink that forms intricate lines, patterns, and shadings of faces, unique names, and odd symbols. That artwork is absolutely gorgeous. What really captures my attention is the bronzed metal embedded in his skin over his heart, along his collarbone, and down his ribs. I don’t understand what I’m looking at, but one word comes to mind.

Beautiful.

“So, now are you afraid me?” he asks in a hard tone.

My attention drags upward to his cold, hard eyes that would send any normal person running with fear. However, I manage to keep my feet firmly planted in place.

“No. Why would I be afraid of you?”

He stares me down. “You see what I am now. You understand that I’m not really human, right?”

“I kind of already knew that.” I curl my fingers inward, fighting the urge to reach out and touch the metal, unsure whether he’d find the move rude. “Is that why you’re so strong? Because of the metal on your body?”

The muscles in his jaw spasm. “Partly, but there’s more to it than that.”

I chew on my thumbnail, glancing from his metal-patched chest to his face. “Can you tell me what else there is? I mean, why are you so strong?”

He grinds his teeth, shame flooding his eyes. “Because I’m a monster. I already told you that.”

Without thinking, I place my hand lightly on his arm. “You’re not a monster.”

He stares down at my hand on his arm, his eyes widening. “How do you know for sure?”

I shrug, lowering my hand from him. “You’ve saved me countless times. You didn’t try to kill me when you found out I may have Grim’s blood in me. There are a lot of reasons why you’re not a monster, Blaise.” Unlike me.

His eyes soften as his gaze unites with mine. “You should give your speech to yourself.” Before I can say anything, he slants to the side and peers behind me. “So, what is this place?”

I glance at the end of the alleyway where various sizes of rusted vehicles line the road. “I’m not quite sure.”

His gaze travels to the sky. “The sky is blue.”

“Yeah, I noticed that, too.”

“This is your blue-skied world, then?”

“I don’t know.” I trace my fingers along neon green, yellow, and pink letters painted across the brick wall. “The end is coming.” “Machines have won.” “Look at what you’ve done.” The familiarity of the words sends a shudder through me. “In some ways, it looks similar. In others …” I glance behind me again. “I don’t remember the world being so quiet and still.”

“You’ve been here before.” It’s not a question. “The Oblivion surfaces memories, not dreams.”

Confusion dances in my mind. “This doesn’t make any sense. If this is a memory, then why can’t I remember being here before?”

“Maybe you need to see more of it.” Blaise nods his head, signaling for me to follow him as he strides down the narrow alleyway.

I hustle after him, staying close, the tail of my torn dress dragging across the ground. When we arrive at the end of the alley, he slows to a halt, right before the asphalt changes to concrete. Resting his shoulder against a brick wall, he slants forward and peeks around the corner. Then he steps back, running his hand over the shaved side of his head with his brows dipped.

“What’s wrong?” I zip up my jacket as cold air begins to nip at my exposed skin.

He shakes his head, looking completely befuddled. “It’s nothing. It’s just … There are a ton of empty cars and not a single person in sight. It’s so crammed, yet it’s not.”

I step to the side of him and sneak a glance around the corner. Then my jaw nearly smacks against the pavement.

Broken and crooked glass and metal buildings of various sizes crowd the streets and block the sunlight. Rusted cars and trucks form a maze down the road; garbage, glass, and debris litter the torn-up ground; and a tangled mess of vines has overtaken almost everything. One thing is missing from the scene.

“There’s nothing alive out there,” I mumble, turning back to Blaise.

“Yeah, I noticed that, too.” He reclines against the wall with his boot propped against the brick. “They could just be hiding. People do that a lot in the Broken City.”

My pulse quickens as I frantically peer around. “Hiding from what?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know. I mean, in the Broken City, I know people hide from the Grim. But this place doesn’t look the same at all. It’s too quiet.”

I gulp. “What if this place has something like Trackers around, and that’s why everyone’s hiding?”

He straightens from the wall and inches toward the end of the alleyway while pushing me back behind him. His spooked behavior instantly puts me on edge and leaves me with a heavy sense of dread.

“Blaise, what happens if you get hurt or die in the Oblivion?” I whisper. When he doesn’t respond, I gulp. “You die in real life, too, don’t you?”

He doesn’t look back at me but nods his head once.

I swallow the lump swelling my throat, wondering if the laws of the machine apply to someone who heals rapidly. Since the Kiss of Death is currently killing me, I question if other things exist that can kill me, too. Maybe I’m not as invincible as I thought.

“We’ll be fine,” he promises, as if reading my mind.

I pick at my fingernails. “Maybe you should go back, just in case there’s something bad here.”

“I can’t. Not until you wake up.” He pushes off the wall and faces the street. “And even if I could, I wouldn’t.” He signals for me to follow him. “Come on; let’s go see what this place is. Just make sure to stay close to me.”

I nod, though he can’t see me, and remain only a step behind him as we leave the shelter of the alley and enter the desolate streets of what I’m assuming used to be a city.

Fragments of glass and charred metal crunch under our boots as we proceed cautiously up the sidewalk.

When we reach the first car blocking our path, Blaise reaches behind him and threads his fingers through mine. His steady hold brings me a drop of comfort until I peer inside the missing windows of a car.

Sitting in the driver’s seat is a woman, her clothes filthy and torn, and her skin covered in dirt and blood.

“She’s dead,” I whisper in shock.

Blaise moves back to see what I’m looking at, then his fingers spasm. “She died pretty recently.”

I press my hand over my aching chest. “How can you tell?”

“Because her body hasn’t started rotting yet.” His head snaps up, his gaze skimming the cars around us. “The question is: what killed her?”

Sparks of shock zap across my flesh as I whirl around and scan the street. The cars and buildings are too thick to see very far, but I’m overpowered by the strangest sensation we’re being watched.

“Blaise …” I say in a low tone as my gaze darts from the vehicles to the buildings to the rooftops. “I think someone’s watching us.”

His back goes rigid as he wiggles his hand from mine. Then he moves in front of me, backs me up until I’m pinned between the car and him, and spans his arms out to the side, using his body to shield me. From what?

“You can’t remember anything about this place? Nothing at all?” he asks in a low tone, his eyes trained ahead of us.

I shake my head. “Why?”

He reaches back and protectively places a hand on my hip. “Because I want to know what we’re up against.”

My heart slams against my chest. “You have the feeling that someone is watching us, too?”

He shakes his head. “No, but I can smell it.”

I shut my eyes and take a measured breath as images stab at the back of my mind.

Steel skeletons with glowing red eyes wreak havoc through the streets, collapsing roofs, shattering windows. So much blood. On the streets. The cars. The buildings. Me drenched in blood from head to toe. But it’s not my blood.

“What does it smell like?” I whisper, opening my eyes.

“Like rust and fear and death …” He breathes in then out. “Like murder.”