The Taken Road

Tirah pulled in a harsh breath through her mask, back pressed against a ruined brick wall coated with soft black moss. The sky was darker than usual for this time of day, acid-green clouds bright with lightning drifting across the grey like a veiled threat. Gods-damned Gildeds, staining the sky with the foul pollution that spewed from their precious Domes!

What did the Gilded folk care if the children outside cried because the air hurt their throats? They were safe inside their tiny, perfect worlds, with their shiny skin and perfectly formed human bodies.

Tirah was one of the lucky Forsaken whose mutation was intentional, and therefore functional. Some might even call her beautiful, with her sharp teeth and glimmering crocodile eyes and mobile pointed ears, but her scarred skin and long tail made her too ugly to be a servant in the Domes. Mutants were allowed, so long as they were pleasing to look at. So she was stuck outside with the rest of the Forsaken, and she would be old by thirty and dead by forty.

She cast a quick, furtive glance around the ruins of the old city. He was late. Shit. He'd never been late before.

She readjusted the satchel at her hip, her free hand flying to the heart-shaped locket she never took off. The chain was dark with grime and the metal of the heart was tarnished, probably beyond repair, but the pictures inside were undamaged. They'd still open into glowing holograms when she pushed the button on the side.

One side held a picture of her parents - beautiful Leiana with her skin and hair darker than night, and handsome, proud Jasper Nakamura, her husband and confidant.

The other side was her sister. Sweet, gentle, kind Selene, who didn't have a mean bone in her entire body, who used to go hungry even as a toddler to let others eat first.

Dead. All of them, dead, and the memories of their deaths were burned permanently into the backs of her eyelids, haunting her dreams, chasing restful sleep away.

No rest for the only survivor of the last doomed Rebellion. No rest for the traitor child whose ignorance led to their deaths - the child who, in her stupidity, had told her nice new friend where she lived with her parents. That "friend" had led the Gilded Elite Force troops to her parents' door. She still heard their screaming every time she closed her eyes - no, there would be no rest for her.

Not until they were avenged.

Tirah would die and be at peace once her family's killers were dead too.

Her long slender ears twitched, picking up the sound of approaching footsteps. She sheathed her blade, tucked away the locket, and faced the ruined staircase that Sedge was ascending now.

She backed up to make room for him on the ledge. Plenty of room. Not only could she smell his foul odor through her filter mask, he was also rumored to have wandering hands if you got too close.

"Tell me you have it all," she commanded, her voice strangely cool and modulated through the mask. "I'm not giving up a pint of blood and most of my hair for you to fail me, Sedge."

"It's here," he snapped, shrugging off his pack. It was well-made, new enough to be stolen from the nearest Dome. She frowned and stepped back further.

I don't like this. Something's funny here. She glanced over her shoulder, but there was nothing but open space behind her where the ledge that had once been a house's second floor ended.

"Relax. You're as jumpy as a kitten," he smirked. Something about the way he said it made her skin crawl. She clutched the bone handle of her knife and swallowed.

"The contact lenses," she said, "and the makeup and clothes. Show me you have them and then I cut my braid."

He shot her a poisonous glare, but took out each item in turn. "Price has changed," he said, eyeing her neck. She flushed and clenched her jaw.

"If you think for one second that I'll let your gross hands anywhere near me-"

"The necklace," he interrupted. "The pint and the necklace, and you get your disguise-"

"What about the last thing?" Her heart raced. "If you're taking the locket, it'll cost you a way in, too."

Sedge smirked and pulled one last thing from the bag - a human finger. Tirah shuddered and nearly gagged, but took it and tucked it away. The princeling would never die without it.

"Now give me the gold, kitten," he said, holding out one grimy hand.

Her chest ached fiercely as she undid the clasp with loving care and held the locket in both hands. Tears pricked her eyes. She kissed it, held it close for a few seconds - and handed it over. Another reach into her bag produced the hermetically sealed bag of her blood. What Sedge wanted with it, she didn't want to know. Nor would she dare to ask.

"Pleasure doing business with you," he said with an oily smile, leaving the disguise she had paid so dearly for behind as he descended the steps.

Contacts to give her blue eyes with white sclera, like a human had. A clean, machine-made servant's uniform, so their eyes would skip over her. Makeup to hide the scars that would single her out so plainly.

And the grisly trophy that would allow her access to the Dome.

She couldn't keep waiting, torturing herself with memories. Prince Henry of the Great Lakes Dome would die within the week, as soon as she could get close enough to get her tail blade in his throat. He wouldn't suffer. Not like she had, not like her parents had, definitely not the way poor gentle Selene had. But he would be dead, and then she could finally rest.

She didn't really care whether it meant death or just good, deep sleep.

It was hard not to stare. Even the ground under her feet was immaculately clean, probably enough to eat off of safely. The air was so clear and bright it practically sparkled, a pleasant but unknown scent drifting through the Dome. Under the long skirt of her stolen uniform her tail flexed and squeezed her leg. Anxiety spiked through her chest every time someone glanced at her.

She'd emerged from the decontamination tunnel into what looked like a mostly residential neighborhood, with a couple of shops and restaurants mixed in.

The road she walked along was glittering white marble veined with gold, and lush emerald grass, soft as a baby's first laugh, waved gently in an artificial breeze.

"You! Stop walking."

She stopped instantly, staring at the marble ground, her heart in her throat. She couldn't feel her hands. The voice was reeling of arrogance and clearly used to being obeyed, but this wasn't the voice she'd so learned to despise in her dreams and memories. Just a Gilded who didn't like to see a servant walk with her head held high.

The Gilded lord stalked across the street to stand in front of her. He grabbed her face in his hand and tilted her head back so she faced him. Her jaw tightened painfully as she glared. Oh, she so badly wanted to bite him. That would teach the stuffed-up peacock to touch people without asking.

"You've a dangerous streak of insolence to you," he muttered, eyes narrowed. "What House do you serve? Answer me now, or I cut out your tongue."

"Whitechalk!" She gasped, blurting the only Gilded name she knew. "House Whitechalk. I serve Prince Henry."

She wasn't sure where the words had come from, but even as they terrified her to her bones, she could see the wisdom in saying such a thing. If she claimed to serve the prince, she would be taken to the prince, and she could slash his throat with the blade of her tail. Hopefully.

The Gilded smiled viciously. "If you serve the prince, I shall take you to him."

Dread and terror mixed like sour wine in her gut. If she couldn't get her tail free in time, she would die horrifically.

He was older than she remembered, and had grown from an awkward boy into a handsome man. But the palpable aura of frigid malice around him made him hideous. He stood up off the chaise he was lounging on as they approached.

"Tirah! I've been looking everywhere for you, silly girl. There you are."

Her blood froze, along with the rest of her. No breath stirred her lungs.

He grinned and lazily swung a gold chain from his fingers - a gold chain with a heart-shaped locket.

The world narrowed to a single point.

"You can leave us now, Lord Bryce," Henry drawled. "My girl and I have much to talk about."

Before she had time to catch a breath, she was being escorted down a lavish hallway, into the parlor of a palace apartment. She snapped back into herself and yanked free of his grip. She knew what he planned for her, why he'd brought her to his bedroom.

Before he could say anything she snarled and shoved him back, ripping off the bottom half of her skirt to free her tail. "You know who I am," she growled. "You killed my family. You killed them! I don't care if your guards kill me, you're going to suffer for that."

"Wait - please, just let me-"

She slammed a fist into his jaw. "You keep your mouth shut, you hear me? You're not talking your way out of this."

"Tirah?"

Henry's jaw clicked as he opened his mouth with a wince.

"Ow. Your sister can really hit, Sel."

Slowly, trembling, Tirah turned.

Selene wasn't the child she remembered. She was only a year younger after all. She was clean and soft and dressed in bright, beautiful clothes, her black hair in rippling waves. Her skin was unmarked and she moved like one unafraid. But her stomach rounded out in a gentle swell - and there was a little boy with Henry's blonde hair asleep in her arms.

Tirah sucked in a breath of the clean air, feeling like she was outside without a filter mask. "Someone explain."

"He's not what you think, Tir," Selene murmured, setting the child down on the couch as she came toward them. "He didn't- mom and dad, that wasn't Henry. His father did that."

"He was my friend," she snapped. "And he told them where to find us."

"I was a kid too," he said softly. "I...I never meant for it to happen. Any of it. I went back to see if anyone was alive, to see if I could help. You were already gone. But Selene was there, barely alive."

"So you saved her life and forced her to be your broodmare?" Tirah bared her teeth and hissed.

Henry looked sick at the idea. "God, no. I - Tirah, I know what this looks like-"

"Do you?"

"Lily Maai," he interrupted. "The rebel leader who disappeared? Your parents' friend? She was my mother."

That got her attention. Her eyes widened and she crossed her arms, scrutinizing him. He did have her hair and eyes. She remembered Lily, how much her parents had trusted her.

"She was my father's captive," Henry said solemnly. "But she loved me anyway. My real name is Haze. I know you came here to kill me, but...I was hoping…"

Hoping to rekindle the flames of the old Rebellion. It sounded too good to be true. Could she trust him?

"The guards are coming, Tir," Selene said nervously. "Are you...with us?"

Selene loved this man. Everything she knew had been turned on its head, and it felt like the world was spinning out of control. But she trusted her sister's judgement, even after so long.

With the embers rekindling in her chest, she took a breath and smiled. "Gimme my locket back, pretty boy."