“Visidion wants you to come to the City,” Samil repeats.

“Why?” I snarl.

Samil shrinks away, ducking and shaking his head.

“I don’t know,” he whines, holding his hands up.

“If you’re lying to me,” I say, letting the threat hang.

“I’m not!” he exclaims.

This is bad. If Visidion wants me in the City, that means something is up. I’m supposed to be here, running the Tribe. My hands are automatically balling into fists, and I’m itching to hit something. Samil cowers before me, whimpering.

“Bah!” I exclaim, dropping my fists and shaking my head in frustration. “Fine. Ragnar!”

Ragnar walks over with a slow saunter. Olivia comes with him, a smile on her face, her hair fluttering in the warm breeze. Her face blurs in my vision, and I’m looking at Sarah. They don’t look anything alike but my chest aches. Emptiness swells from deep inside, and my hearts skip a beat. Red rage roars, burning thought away. Clenching my fist, closing my eyes, struggling to remain in control.

“What’s going on?” Ragnar asks.

Opening my eyes, his arm around Olivia holding her close, I see her now as her. The ache pounding in my chest doesn’t ease, but the anger recedes.

“I have to go to the City,” I say.

“Why?” Olivia asks.

“Visidion wants me there,” I say.

“Sure. You need anything?” Ragnar asks.

“No,” I respond. “Watch over things here. I’m leaving now.”

“I’ll handle things,” he says.

“Keep an eye on Padraig and see if we can get Errol some help repairing the damage to the wall.”

“Melchior and Bashir will help,” he says.

Olivia’s hand rests on his chest, her head leaning against him. Pain stabs into my chest so I turn away.

“I’ll be back,” I say, throat tight.

I walk away before I do something I’ll regret. An itch forms between my wings where I can feel their eyes boring into me. Rolling my shoulders, I try to ignore the feeling.

Errol is hammering on a stone, trying to knock it back into line with the rest of the wall. Even though he’s swinging the hammer as hard as he can, it’s ineffective. As his arm swings again, I reach out and grab the hammer before it makes contact. His head snaps toward me, mouth turning down.

“What the-” he stops, seeing me, then lets the hammer go.

Looking the stone over, I turn sideways, positioning the hammer. Swinging with all I’ve got, pouring all my frustration and anger into the blow, I take aim and the hammer makes contact with the stone. It slams into alignment with the rest of the wall.

“Damn…” Errol hisses.

The humans’ swear words have worked their way into our language. Errol stares at me, mouth agape, shaking his head. I hold the hammer out to him and he takes it without a word. Feeling slightly better, I pass through the opening in the wall and head across the desert towards the City.

* * *

The dome glitters as I come closer. I’ll be there soon and then I’ll see. The suns set low on the horizon, their final rays bouncing off the City’s dome, making rainbows of color shoot across the dunes. Feet pounding on the sand with each leap, accenting my thoughts with each impact. Anger pulses with each beat of my hearts. There’s only one reason Visidion would call me to the City. It can’t be that, but it has to be.

If he orders me to stop helping Sarah…

No, he can’t do that. I won’t. I can’t.

Can I defy him?

Technically I have been, but he never said not to help her. I know he believed it was understood. I should have killed Gershom. If Sarah hadn’t stopped me, none of this would be happening. The simplest answer was—and is—to take out Gershom.

Damn it, that’s another circle. I can’t change the past, no matter how much I want to.

The past. The swirling fog of my memories swells and recedes, throwing bits and pieces of flotsam out of the unknowing blankness from before the devastation. Things I don’t want to remember. Images that can’t be, that wasn’t me. It can’t have been me.

Pictures of bodies spread around me, blood-splattered hands held up before my face. It can’t be real, nothing like that happened.

Maybe Visidion wants something else. A new plan or an in-person report on the progress of the gardening. That could be all this is. Or the epis. In the last report I sent to him, I made it clear the epis supply is not going to last much longer. That’s a definite concern—the humans aren’t going to survive without it. We might be able to get red-leaved lychnara for them to break the addiction, but it wouldn’t help them survive the heat. Their bodies aren’t made for Tajss.

That has to be what this is. It’s about the epis.

Yes, epis. What will we do about epis?

Cresting the final dune before the City, I pause. Staring at the dome causes the fog of the past to stir. Dim memories rise and fall. Before, Tajss was a different place. I was different then. Wasn’t I?

Bursting into a run, I sprint, closing the distance between the City and me. The memories try to chase me, but I have no use for them. This, right now, this moment is all that matters. What came before is done. All that matters is what I do now. A deep, niggling thought, that if I run fast enough I’ll outrun the memories, that thought rises, but I push it aside too. There is nothing to run from because it’s nothing.

When I reach the airlock, I punch in the code and wait for the door to cycle open. A whoosh of air flushes out as it opens, and I step inside. When I enter the next code, the door behind me closes, air pours in from vents above, and then the inner door opens. The City lies before me.

Stepping onto the processed stone of the street is strange. It doesn’t give to my weight like the sand outside. Empty streets ache with loneliness and what was. Decay weighs heavy on the buildings. Broken windows. Twisted steel. The aftermath of the Devastation. Shaking myself free of the sense of melancholy the City evokes in me, I jog ahead, passing by empty buildings as I make my way to the City center.

As I get closer to the center, I see humans going about their day, male and female. They wave or smile as we pass one another, and I nod to them without slowing my pace. I want to get this over with. It isn’t long enough before I’m walking past the main fountain, where lots of people are gathered, visiting and collecting water. I enter the main building and work my way up to Rosalind’s offices and the Council meeting space.

“Drosdan,” Ladon says, as I step out of the stairwell.

Ladon isn’t as big as I am, but there’s a confidence about him. He’s a fighter, self-assured, and he’s in his home. The City was his alone when the humans crashed here, and he still considers it to be his. Everyone else lives here by his will alone, at least in his mind. I’m not sure Rosalind would agree with that assessment, but she lets him believe it.

“Where are they?” I ask without preamble.

Ladon nods towards a double set of doors that lead into the council chambers. Squaring my shoulders, I walk to the doors and throw them open. Inside Rosalind and Visidion sit at the far end of the long table, deep in a discussion. The doors bang against the walls, and I squeeze my large frame into the opening. They look up, faces serious, but neither of them speak. I have met their gaze, and now I wait for them. The silence stretches to the point of becoming uncomfortable. My scales itch and my hands twitch. I hate waiting.

I sense more than hear Ladon behind me, but I continue waiting. It’s a matter of dominance. I won’t give first. Visidion and I lock eyes, and a contest of wills ensues. Rustling my wings, my tail still, I pour myself into the stare, willing him to give. The moment becomes a minute and stretches further. Neither of us willing to bend. The contest continues.

“All right, enough,” Rosalind says, her words cutting, but neither of us breaks our gaze to look at her. “We’re friends here, you two can stop the pissing contest.”

Rosalind places a hand on Visidion’s.

“Right,” he says, clearing his throat. “Come on in, Drosdan.”

I can’t stop the smile that forms as I walk across the room and take a seat opposite Visidion. Ladon comes behind me and takes a seat next to me.

“I’m sure you’re wondering why you’re here,” Rosalind says.

“Yes,” I reply.

No need to say more, this is going to be what it’s going to be.

“You’ve been helping Gershom,” Rosalind says.

Visidion’s hand clenches into a fist, anger boils off him in hot waves slamming against me. My tail shifts back and forth, and my stomach tightens into a hard ball. Eyes narrowing, I watch Visidion.

“If I have?” I ask.

“If you have, you’ve directly defied me!” Visidion barks.

“In what?” I ask.

“You know damn well I don’t want you helping them,” he says, leaning forward, elbows on the table between us.

“Do I?”

His mouth tightens and eyes narrow as he rises to his feet.

“You would dare defy me,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

An image flashes to the front of my mind. Another Zmaj leaning in, spittle flying from his mouth, eyes bloodshot, screaming at me to follow the order.

Cold shock races through my limbs, my heart skips a beat, and I’m left shaken. I blink rapidly to clear the image from my mind. Visidion is leaning across the table, angry, but it’s not him in the memory.

“Visidion,” Rosalind says in a calming voice.

“I will not be defied,” he hisses, pulling his hand free of her touch.

“There is a better way to handle this,” Ladon says.

“Do you defy me?” Visidion asks.

The same image rises, confusing the situation. Almost I remember, and it’s pulling at me. Sickness bubbles in my stomach. No, I can’t do this. I can’t follow the order. It’s wrong.

“I…” I say, but words fall apart.

Sarah’s voice, soft and beautiful, ‘I have to,’ she whispers.

Have to, have to, no choice. Follow orders, obey, it’s what we do. Her and I, we obey those above us. We follow orders.

“You what?” Visidion asks. “Have you been helping them or not?”

Meeting his gaze full on, a cold resolve forms in my guts, and it brings calm.

“Yes,” I say.

“I knew it,” he growls. “You’ve betrayed me, Drosdan. You of all people, I never would have expected it.”

“Drosdan, explain yourself,” Rosalind says.

“Explain myself? You sent her out there, alone, with those animals!”

“You know why—”

“I know your excuses!” I yell, cutting her off. Visidion hisses, his tail rising. When I slam my fist on the table there’s a snapping sound, and a crack appears in the thick wood. “I’m done.”

“Drosdan,” Ladon says, but holds his hands up when I turn towards him. “We can work this out.”

“No, we can’t,” I say. “I shouldn’t have let her go. It was stupid. She’s mine, and I won’t leave her out there, alone, any longer.”

“Drosdan, they have to survive on their own,” Rosalind says.

“Then let them, without her!” I yell.

Turning my back on them, I storm towards the door. My scales itch, expecting an attack, but nothing happens. When I jerk the door open it slams against the wall.

“Drosdan,” Visidion says, his voice soft, cutting through the raging anger burning through my body.

I stop and wait for what he’s going to say.

“There is a better way,” Rosalind says. “Please, we can work this out.”

“There’s nothing to work out. I’m saving her,” I say.

“We need more time,” Visidion says. “I know how you feel, but give us time.”

“I gave you time. I’ve given you everything. I won’t leave her there—it’s done,” I say.

Ladon says something, but I don’t hear his words. The stairwell door closes behind me, cutting them off. I’m coming, Sarah. Ready or not, we’re done with them. I’m going to save you.