The Heart of a Serpent

A stream of crimson drips trails down my palm, landing into the fire with a sizzle. It’s done, and there’s no going back now. Jax wraps my hand in a bandage. Though the familiar sting of pain is still there, I’ve gotten used to it. Everyone speaks in hushed voices, the fire just bright enough to light up the curiosity in their eyes. I meet their gaze and search for the slightest hint of fear. There’s nothing. Biting my lip, I retreat into the darkness and let it consume me in its chilling embrace. I am a Serpentine now, leader of the unit.

Isolde waits for me near the camp entrance. A small smile tugs at her lips, but it’s gone almost immediately. Her blonde hair is up in a tight French braid, the way she always wears it when we leave for the City Square. The red and blue powder clings to the strands, serving as a sign to our allies. They only trust her, the Keeper of the guilds.

I signal to her, but she shakes her head. They didn’t make it. My eyes burn from unshed tears as I follow her inside the makeshift camp. The Elders are here to say their final goodbyes too. Cyran claps me on the shoulder and heads out, limping a little from kneeling here. His father was blown up yesterday when the Sentinels ambushed our 27th sector. I talked all night with those who survived. This morning, their bodies are stiff and cold beneath the white linen.

Soon, they'll be floating at sea on a burning boat. They may be gone, but I’m sure they wouldn’t want anyone else to join them. I try to shift my focus on the rest who are still alive. Their trial was just over yesterday. More from other guilds and sectors remain at the correctional facility, due for public execution during the Commemoration. That was the day the guilds rose up against the Governor.

Isolde keeps her gaze fixed on a spot in the distance. Suddenly, she stops and places her hands on my shoulders, squeezing them so tightly that it makes me wince. Age only made her stronger. “Luna, remember the code. Guild before self. That’s what you did when you killed Ryker, and I don’t trust anyone else to do this.”

I almost didn’t. Killing is a part of me as the soul is to the body. Though I’ve proven myself to be useful, it’s something that I secretly wished away. I’m a monster. My fists clench and unclench as memories rush at me like a crashing wave. Their bodies in a ditch, mauled beyond recognition. People. Our people. Once, Ryker’s guild and ours used to get along, but all that changed overnight. They almost took the head of the Governor during the Independence Day speech. A pulse knife flew straight to his throat, only missing its mark because a bodyguard paid with his life.

The next day, we rose to infamy while Ryker lived as a free man. His guild now works for the government, where they train Sentinels to hunt us down. The bounty on our heads has grown by five times their starting amount. One by one, they cut us down. We weren’t stupid, but he was always a step ahead.

“Whoever kills the betrayer becomes the Serpentine. I’m sure you haven’t forgotten that.” Isolde disappears into the shadows. I bite my lip and follow her to a small shed where I know the others are waiting.

Piercing screams echo against the soundproof chamber. Skylar’s dark hair is matted and plastered to her forehead. Her body is slick with sweat. As the charged knife slices against her back, she cries out and falls into a heap. Her eyes roll into the back of her head, and she passes out. She’s one of the Sentinel spies sent to scout our camp. For a time, she was one of us. Isolde kicks her awake. Groaning, she opens her swollen eyes to meet our glares. Blood spews from her mouth as she speaks.

“The Noire in person. What an honor,” she scoffs. “You know, I wouldn’t believe it until I saw you. You’re fast, but we’re faster.”

My knife flies to her, grazing her neck as it impales the wooden floor. The color drains from her pale face. Jax grips my arm and moves closer until I sink against him. He has the power to suppress strength, taking the person’s energy, and melding it with his own. “If you keep this up, we won’t get anywhere,” he whispers.

I struggle against his hold, but he doesn’t budge. Estelle squints her eyes and frowns. Skylar’s head snaps back. Her body arches and writhes under Estelle’s invisible hold. I feel my jaw going slack at Skylar’s limp form. For a moment, I think she’s dead. Her chest doesn’t move. My fists are balled until my knuckles turn white. As soon as Estelle relaxes, Skylar sucks in deep, labored breaths. Why isn’t Isolde stopping her? 

“They’re coming here. Then, they’ll take the Central building.” Skylar spits at us, and she slumps against the wall. “Kill the commander.”

“He’s a Consul?” Cyran asks.

Skylar throws her head back, screaming and covering her ears. He could be torturing her now. Consuls know everything from the time you’re born, and they file that information away in their near-infinite brain space. They can reach anyone with their thoughts, torturing them with a nagging whisper. Some of ours even went insane from it. Skylar wipes her tears with her sleeve. “He knows what I’ve done. Just end it already.”

Isolde looks to Cyran. He sighs and nods, the gleam in his eyes showing that he just read Skylar. She’s telling the truth. In one swift blow, Isolde snaps her neck and drives a charged knife through her throat. Jax shifts uncomfortably and loosens his grip. I stiffen at the sound of another sickening crack. I always kill silently at night, moving quickly and silently like I’m one with the obsidian sky. That’s why Sentinels call me the Noire. I never had to deal with the sound of broken bones or pleas for mercy. To me, showing mercy is ending someone’s suffering, not prolonging it by letting them live another minute longer.

As a sliver of sunlight crests the horizon, we make our move. Isolde sent us off with the same words of caution, “Trust no one.” She never leaves with us, but she’ll meet us there. I take the best fighters with me. Jax, Estelle, and Cyran. “You guys need this more than I do.” Estelle distributes her stash of knives to us, a smirk playing on her lips. I punch her in the arm and flash her a strained smile. With her Gift, she could kill with just a thought, and that makes it hard to control. Her sister died when Estelle first got her Gift. By the time Estelle realized what she had done, it was too late. Sofia was gone.

Cyran pairs off with Estelle, and Jax goes with me. We head for the east wing, where the back entrance to the correctional facility is. A weight crushes my chest as I stare at the gray building ahead. I can’t handle another death again, especially not from my own stupidity or inability to lead. Jax seems to sense my thoughts as he tugs my hand.

“Why did you join the guild?” he asks.

I huff and give him a look. “Jax, we need to go before the guards change shifts.”

“I’m not asking this for fun. Just answer the question, and you’ll know what I mean.” There’s a slight tic to his jaw, and he clenches his teeth. He won’t let this go without a fight.

“For revenge. Mom, Nanna, and Pops didn’t deserve to die, but that bastard hung them anyway.” I wince, remembering the day when they were marched to the stage, bloodied and crawling on all fours from their injuries. The Governor branded them as rebels for refusing the “protection” of his forces, so he killed them. Nanna and Pops have seen how the soldiers wrench children from their homes and return them as dried husks in caskets. The only crime those children committed was being genetically inferior. As they get older, their mutations will make them act out in blind fits of rage.

If not for mom, Nanna, and Pops hiding me for weeks after that, I could’ve ended up in that wooden box. Soon after, as the soldiers dragged them away, I left the life I’ve always known.

Jax looks me dead-on, a storm quickly brewing in the gray depths of his eyes. For once, I’m grateful that he knew my story when we met years ago. I can’t bring myself to recite the details without tearing my hair out. “Then, do this for them. Think about them when you’re freeing everyone else. Fight like how you would’ve when you saw them go up that stage.”

The deafening sound of cheering threatens to split my eardrums, but his words sink in anyway. With a terse nod, I lead the way into the building.

The special cells are somewhere near the middle, where security is heaviest. Jax and I hide in the shadows, watching and waiting. My knives give me the familiar thrill of metal against skin. I take aim and start throwing them. The guards collapse so quickly that none of them have time to raise the alarm. Writhing on the ground, they draw in heaving breaths as their eyes grow wide with realization. Then, it’s all over. As we emerge from the shadows, all chatter ceases. I’m vaguely aware of the furtive movements of people picking at the locks.

Logan, the leader of sector 17, holds out a hand through the bars. “They brought forward our execution day, so we really thought this was the end.”

“When is it?” Jax asks.

Logan sighs and rakes his hand through his thick hair. “Today, in less than an hour.”

I curse under my breath. More guards should be coming to prep them anytime now. As the door swings open, my blood runs cold. I chew on my lip as my heart hammers against my ribcage. The hard thumping of my pulse fills my ears. No, it can’t be. The man standing there sizes me up with his golden eyes. He looks almost like how I remembered. A scar runs from his chin to his cheek, slipping over his ear and disappearing into his receding hairline. My father works for the enemy as the chief guard. His guards flank him, weapons raised, and eyes narrowed. Mother said he and my brother died years ago in a mining collapse. Questions swirl in my mind, but I force myself to stay focused.

I almost pinch myself to make sure this is real. I need to kill him. My knife trembles in my grip, but I can’t move it. Father’s voice plays in my head. I’m your father, will you kill me? How will you live with yourself? Your mother, Nanna, and Pop will hate you. Think. Don’t go all high and mighty on me. Who abandoned us first? Who is the real enemy here? The words come faster and faster until it all sounds like gibberish. Nothing makes sense anymore. Blood drips from my ears and lands on my shirt.

Father raises a gun to my face and smirks, his eyes glowing as he meets my gaze. He’s a Consul. Once he speaks, my body becomes useless. “Last time, you ran away. This time, you’re staying for good.” I barely have time to register his words when someone barrels into me. Pain explodes in my back, ripping through my skin, muscles, and bones. Jax stumbles back as Father’s knife finds home in his thigh. My assailant is oddly familiar, too, though I’m not sure why. He peels back the cover of his hoodie and rips his mask off. It’s my brother, Ash.

No matter what I tell myself, it’s one moment of weakness that costs me. Father possessed my mind when I hesitated. My body seizes, and my vision blurs. The poison in his knife is already sucking the life out of me. I breathe even harder and wobble on my feet. Jax steadies me against him. “Not so stealthy after all,” Ash scoffs. My legs give out, and I hit the marble floor. Gunshots ricochet outside the building. Estelle and Cyran are coming for us. Sweat trickles down my forehead, stinging my eyes and setting my skin on fire. My breaths come short and ragged. 

Father’s knife flies to my stomach. Something snaps, and the pain renews itself, surging and consuming me from the inside out. My vision darkens around the edges, the copper taste of blood overwhelming my tastebuds. Cool air licks the open wound, biting and scathing every new part carved open. Cyran stares at me, eyes glazed and bloodshot. Hang in there. His words pop into my mind as clear as day. Explosions rip through the walls and send the guards flying. Estelle crushes Ash’s throat until he goes limp. Father disappears among the guards.

Cyran’s hands emit a soft, healing glow. His face is pale as he studies me. Save Jax. Understanding flits across his features as he rips the knife from Jax’s leg and saps the dark poison from his wound. The liquid crawls on the floor and melds with mine. It inches up my arm and covers my nose and mouth. My lungs burn for air, but I can’t find the strength to try anymore.

Jax and Cyran claw at the black substance, but it’s crusted over and solid now. Jax cradles my head as I close my eyes. The last thing I feel is his tears falling on my cheeks. I’m pulled by the darkness, dropping through an endless chasm of oblivion. Except for the stale air and the smell of something burning, there’s nothing here. 

“Hey, you better hurry up if you want to get there on time.” The gruff sound of a man speaking jolts me awake. Somehow, I’m not dead. Slowly, I stretch my body, wriggling my fingers and toes. They’re stiff, and it takes a few tries to get them working again. I crack my eyes open. An old man sits at his desk with his back facing me, furiously scribbling away on a vanguard sheet.

When he turns around, he stares at me like I grew another head. “Well, it’s about time you woke up anyway. First, I’ll need you to repair my ceiling.”

“What?” I croak.

“Open your eyes.” He points to the roof. I follow his gaze to see a massive hole and the wooden splinters dangling from the edge. “You fell through nearly an hour ago.”

“Was anyone else with me? Did you hear about the guild attack on the correctional facility?”

The man sighs and shakes his head. “Kid, I think that ceiling got your brains too. That was old news,” he squints his eyes like he’s trying to grasp a distant memory, “It’s been three years.”

It can’t be. Maybe his age made him a little fuzzy, not that I was going to tell him that. Swinging myself off the bed, I strap my boots on. “I’ll find a way to repair your house. But for now, I need to—”

He shoves me into the wall, and his hand presses against my mouth. “Don’t let them see you.”

“Them?”

“The guild. Isolde is a crazy woman now. You better watch out for her.”

I shift uncomfortably. He must be working for them, but the details will have to wait. If anything, he must be important enough for Isolde to give him a shed. Nodding, I slip out of his hold and bolt through the door. In the distance, the City Square clock chimes. Squinting, I make out the digital display on the clock tower, staring long and hard. 12 01 25. The year is Eon 25. I blink and rub my eyes. Whatever this is, I must be hallucinating or going insane.

I stick close to the bushes and plants until I get to the training hall, where Isolde usually is. She’s thinner than she used to be. Her eyes are sunken and her body is slower now. Jax has a prosthetic arm and leg. Cyran wears an eye patch and Estelle’s in a wheelchair. Estelle’s legs have lost the muscle definition. Isolde’s voice echoes against the walls. “Clear Luna’s things. They can burn with her in hell. Throw out everything.”

“But—”

Isolde scowls at Jax. “My Gift showed me the truth today. She was a coward. A disgusting weakling. She had one chance to finish her father off, and she didn’t. Why? Because he’s family?” She spits on my pile of clothes on the ground. “Don’t feed me that crap. We’re here now because of her. Half of us are dead, and we’re no better.”

She continues talking, but I’m not listening anymore. A slow burn starts in my chest and my face grows hot. Retreating behind some trees, I let the tears fall. I wanted the Governor to know we won’t be pushed around like pawns. Isolde doesn’t understand anything. This was never about me. It’s about our survival. I failed them once, but it won’t happen again. For now, they should keep believing that I’m dead. It’s best for everyone. 

My father’s whisper starts again. Stupid girl. You should have killed me when you had the chance. See how they pay for it. 

I focus on his words and send my own message. You’re wrong. This time, I’ll have your legs, arm, and eye. Then, it'll be your head. Don’t worry, Father, it’s a fair trade.