Tears streamed down my face as I fought to stand, to run—only to stop at the sight of someone else.

  A girl.

  She had short blonde hair and wore trousers and a shirt—an unusual outfit for a girl. I stared at her, torn between begging for help or mercy, but my throat was too raw. I couldn’t even breathe properly, let alone speak. All I managed was a broken cough.

  Just run.

  But my body betrayed me. I staggered only a few paces before gripping a low branch to keep from collapsing.

  Through the haze, I saw the girl kneel beside the boy—the one who had tried to kill me. She placed her hands on either side of his head and, with a swift motion, broke his neck.

  The sound sent a violent tremor through me. Instinctively, I shut my eyes, though the image had already seared itself into my mind.

  The world became emptier. Quieter.

  I had seen many dead bodies in my life, but I had never watched someone die before. A wave of nausea churned in my stomach, intensifying the coughs racking my body. I forced myself to stay conscious. If I fainted now, I didn’t know if I would wake up again.

  The girl was staring at me now.

  I prayed she would let me go.

  “It seems you’re very lucky,” she murmured, casting a glance at the boy she had just killed before returning her gaze to me.

  Since she made no move to approach, I dared to look at her properly.

  She was barefoot, her feet caked in dirt, yet the rest of her appeared oddly clean—just like the boy had been. She looked young, maybe only a couple of years older than me. Her skin was pale—not as much as Emilia’s, but enough to suggest she wasn’t from Aurora.

  She tucked a stray strand of dark blonde hair behind her ear, though it quickly fell back into her face. Unlike most girls, her hair wasn’t tied in a braid, bun, or any kind of updo. Instead, it hung loosely above her shoulders. My mother would have called that ‘poor self-care.’

  I swallowed, my throat thick and dry. Speaking felt impossible, but I tried anyway, since my coughing had finally eased.

  “What is happening? Where am I?” My voice came out hoarse.

  I took stock of my body, searching for injuries. My arms were unscathed—no blood seeped through the flimsy gown I wore (one I had no memory of acquiring). But my head throbbed, and dizziness weighed on my limbs. When I touched my temple, my fingers came away wet and warm.

  A head wound.

  And barely any strength left.

  “We’re in the Blue Forest,” the girl answered calmly, her dark eyes fixed on me. Her voice was rough, as if she were recovering from an illness.

  “Where in the Blue Forest?” I asked, struggling to sound less desperate than I felt. My hand gripped the tree beside me for support.

  “Near the gold bell by the Sun River. That way.” She gestured behind her.

  I looked past her, scanning the trees and thick underbrush. No distinct path.

  If she was telling the truth, I was about three hours from Aurora.

  Would she help me if I asked?

  I didn’t dare voice the question. Not yet. She had just murdered someone, and she was disturbingly calm about it.

  “Do you know how I got here?” I asked, suppressing another cough.

  She didn’t answer. She only watched me.

  Something about her gaze unsettled me—cold and curious all at once. I instinctively reached for my pendant.

  It was gone.

  Panic surged through me, my stomach twisting. I prayed to the stars, to God, for everything to be okay. An old habit I had never truly shaken.

  “Thank you for helping me,” I said, my voice carefully measured. She was unpredictable, and I didn’t want to provoke her.

  “I would be dead if not for you. But if you know why I’m here, I’d appreciate it if you told me.” I exhaled slowly. It was getting easier to breathe.

  She was silent for another minute before finally speaking.

  “I know exactly why you’re here,” she said. “He and I were supposed to kill you. It was our job. But it turns out that wasn’t quite what I had planned.”

  My lips parted, but no words came.

  She had killed him instead.

  But why?

  I wasn’t ungrateful—far from it—but nothing about this made sense.

  “Why would you want to kill me?” I asked, shivering from both cold and unease. “I’m not a threat to anyone.” I forced my voice to waver, hoping to sound too weak, too scared, to be worth bothering with.

  She sighed, pacing slowly. She never spared a glance at the body she had left behind.

  I tried to look away from the corpse, but I couldn’t. The sight pulled at me, chilling me to the bone. The sound of his neck breaking still echoed in my mind.

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  But more than anything…

  I felt relief.

  Relief that it wasn’t me lying lifeless in the dirt.

  “The truth is more complex than you can imagine. Whether you like it or not, there are people out there who want you dead—desperately. And there’s nothing you or I can do to change that.”

  “But I didn’t do anything!” I spat, half-furious, half-confused.

  “It doesn’t matter. Nothing can change it now.”

  I wondered if I could outrun her if I tried. All I wanted was to run home—to the safety of my bed, to my parents.

  “I don’t understand,” I said, my voice shaking. “Why was I taken? Why do you want me dead?”

  My hand instinctively traveled to my neck, searching for my lost pendant. They had taken everything I owned and replaced it with a filthy gown. What had they done to me? I wasn’t sure I wanted to know.

  She studied me for a moment. “I’ll tell you everything. It’s in my best interest. But before I do, I need to know you’ll listen—and believe me. That is, if you care about keeping your life.”

  I swallowed hard. I still didn’t understand what was happening, but if I kept her talking, maybe I could buy myself time. Maybe, if I recovered enough, I could run. The thought of the distance I’d have to cover made me dizzy. If she was even telling the truth about where we were.

  “So you’ll tell me why I’m here,” I said. My knees didn’t feel as weak anymore. Maybe I had a chance.

  She nodded. “But I can’t promise it will make sense. Still, you must trust that it’s the truth.” Her eyes locked onto mine.

  “I’ll listen,” I said. “I guess I owe you that much… for helping me.” I tried to sound willing.

  She regarded me for another long moment, then finally spoke.

  “The reason I saved you is because of the way you’re dressed. A grey gown means you were taken from the city, doesn’t it?”

  I nodded, but my focus wavered. Birds were landing in the grass nearby, pecking at the earth, oblivious to me. The sight was so normal, so out of place. I forced myself to focus.

  I didn’t remember much. Why had I been taken? Maybe someone was trying to blackmail my parents. But that didn’t make sense—we didn’t have much money. My mind raced through possibilities, none of them fitting.

  “Is this because I saw something I wasn’t supposed to?” My voice was heavy as a thought flickered in my memory. “Is that why I’m supposed to be dead?”

  A dark alley.

  Pain in my neck.

  I was running.

  But from who?

  “If you don’t remember, it’s because of the drug they gave you,” she said. “But it will come back. Eventually.”

  My breath caught.

  “As for why they choose any of you… I couldn’t tell you. But I bet you feel like something is missing. Or wrong.”

  Missing?

  The words unsettled me. What could be missing? My pendant?

  She was trying to tell me something, but my head spun with too many possibilities. I glanced at the birds again, wanting to scream at them—to make them notice me, to do anything but be normal while I was falling apart.

  But they just kept pecking the ground. The trees swayed. The sun shone.

  The world went on, indifferent.

  I clenched my fists. Think. Don’t get distracted. What was missing?

  A horrible thought struck me. My parents. Had they been taken too? If I lost them… if they were gone… No. It had to be something else.

  I had to be sure. I had to make her tell me.

  “Is it my parents?” I asked, desperation tightening my throat. “Were they taken too?”

  “No.”

  She ran her hands through her hair and left them there, gripping her skull for a moment.

  “Most people taken are under seventeen. Never older.”

  I almost breathed again. Almost.

  “Never?” I asked too loudly. My lips trembled.

  “Never,” she repeated, her tone flat. “And no, I wasn’t talking about them. You have to pay attention.”

  I sucked in a breath. If my parents were safe, everything else could be fixed. I pictured them at home, waiting for me. I had to stay alive. I had to be smart. I had to find my way back to them.

  Slowly, I felt stronger. My legs steadied. My thoughts sharpened. If I kept her talking, if I made her believe I wasn’t a threat, I could get away.

  But what if she was lying about my parents?

  No. Don’t spiral. Stay focused. Be positive. Believe that everything will be fine.

  I breathed again.

  “You said a grey gown means I was taken from the city,” I said, my eyes scanning the area for an escape route. “What does that mean, exactly?”

  “There are three colors used to mark the kids they keep at the castle,” she explained. “Grey, white, and red. Grey is for the outsiders—those taken from the city. White is for the youngest. Red is for the oldest.”

  The oldest.

  The word lingered in my mind like an omen.

  And for the first time since I woke up, I realized I might not want to know what happened to the ones in red.

  “What castle? And what do you mean by ‘raised there’?” I asked, confusion knotting my thoughts. Despite myself, I had to admit—she was starting to pique my curiosity.

  “The only castle in Aurora. The Grey Rock,” she said, and for a moment, I couldn’t comprehend her words. The Grey Rock belonged to the Governor, the very heart of power where those who dictated the city’s fate gathered.

  “They’ve been breeding kids there for years,” she added.

  I could only gape at her, my mind blank.

  She had to be out of her mind—just like that boy had been.

  She sighed, then resumed pacing. My eyes stayed locked on her, watching as if she were some wild, dangerous animal.

  “You see, I know what I am. And I know what they’ve made of you. But those other kids, the ones in white and red? I don’t know what they’re using them for. All I know is that they’re born there… and they die there.”

  “What they’ve made of me?” The words slipped out before I could stop them. My breath caught. I hadn’t meant to say that. Foolishly, I hoped she hadn’t heard.

  But she had.

  She halted, tilting her face toward the sky beyond the tangled branches.

  “I’m going to tell you a story, and this is the part where you listen to every word I say. Understand?”

  I hesitated. Just a few seconds. My legs screamed for me to run, but I wasn’t strong enough yet.

  I nodded.

  “Good. But before that, I have a question. Do you know the legend of the fallen stars?”

  I nodded again.

  “It’s not a legend,” I said, a little too proudly, given the circumstances. “It’s real.”

  Everyone knew what had happened over two centuries ago. The event had reshaped humanity’s beliefs, forged a new religion, and left a mark on the world that had never faded.

  “Yes. Parts of it are real,” she said, eyes fixed on something unseen.

  “What parts?” I asked, frowning.

  “Tell me what the legend says.”

  I bit my tongue, resisting the urge to correct her. It wasn’t just a legend. It had been a miracle. A gift.

  “The book says,” I began, “that two hundred and sixty years ago, fifty stars fell from the sky. They were a gift from God, a reminder that we weren’t alone—that He was watching over us. Always.

  “After that, the human race abandoned the old ways. We stopped worshipping false gods. Human and animal sacrifices were forbidden. And we learned to live in peace by following His rules, praying for His favor.”

  My voice was steady until that last part. Peace? I knew better. There was no peace in my world.

  “And that’s it?” she asked.

  I nodded. “The sun became His symbol. The stars became ours—a symbol of our fate.” My fingers brushed the hollow at my collarbone, where my pendant should have been.

  Every devotee wore one. Silver, flat, round—etched with eight uneven lines intersecting at the center. The Grieving Star. A reminder of the fifty that had fallen, of the gift we had received.

  “And that’s all?” she pressed.

  “There’s nothing more,” I said firmly.

  She exhaled sharply. “But there is. They’re just not telling us the whole story. Because, believe it or not, they’ve been using the stars for decades.”

  Her eyes locked onto mine.

  “They put them in my blood,” she said. “And they put them in yours.”

  Goosebumps prickled my skin.

  No.

  It wasn’t possible. Every star was locked away, buried deep beneath the High City of Aries for safekeeping.

  Yes, there were rumors. Whispers of stolen stars. Stories of them being sold on the black market.

  But no one would dare. The very thought of stealing a star was punishable by death.

  I had imagined it once—just a fleeting, foolish thought. A joke. Nothing more.

  But now?

  Now, I stared at the girl before me, fear curling around my ribs like a tightening chain.

  “Who are you?” I whispered.