wouldn’t change anything. It wouldn’t return parents to orphans, or husbands to wives, or sisters to brothers.
I didn’t know what I could do, if I would make things better or worse for everyone. If I would even live long enough to see this machine completed. If it even existed. Garnet Dayton, the Electrician who all but press-ganged me into his service, had worked with my parents during the Discovery and saw no reason to lie when he told me about their hopes for shutting the Breach. But neither did my mother, who told me nothing.
Yet I wouldn’t accept defeat just because the obstacles in my path were continuing to get steeper. I wouldn’t abandon hope that I could find a purpose for this key, and I wouldn’t believe that Riley was some kind of traitor when all he had done was help. I wouldn’t leave my sister to the fate of a beast too cowardly to face his enemies.
Maybe I was selfish after all.
Chapter 4
“Well, finding your house should be easy. Everything in the district is a pile of rubble.”
I glared at Sawyer’s callous sarcasm, though he wasn’t wrong.
Before The Storm, the drafter district was renowned throughout Aon as the most beautiful part of Westraven. Mostly occupied by engineers, architects, and Electricians, the buildings of the district were constructed of towering, whitewashed stones. Gleaming windows would reflect the sun and warm the pale grey cobblestone roads. Silver lampposts stood like slim trees on the shop corners, their bulbs shining like clear moons and lighting the entire block. The fountain depicting a dancing woman with a drooping scroll was placed in the Drafting Square, where monthly competitions used to be held for the best designed statue, the most effective electric current, and the quickest repair. Crowds would come in droves to watch the competitions. My parents always participated in the repairs, and would often win rewards of fancy dinners or free clothes from the wealthiest shops and restaurants in the market, and once even a trip to Meridia, the tropical, southern-most province of Aon.
Now, ten years later, I stood on the bow of a Hellion skiff, looking at the crumbled shops and apartments. White stone had become black with soot. Glass glittered under wind-swept dust, hiding most of the dark, crimson-stained cobblestones. The lampposts were tarnished and warped, some even knocked onto the street to block the roads. The fountain was shattered in heavy pieces, the dancing woman now a broken doll that would never be put back together again.
There were no bodies, no smoke, no sign of survivors. If there were any, they were probably hiding in the dilapidated buildings to avoid being seen. With the darkening clouds forming over our heads and the bitter, winter wind snapping at our faces, I couldn’t blame them for wanting to be indoors.
Looking at the state of drafter district weighed down my heart, but I was glad Abby had never seen it. I couldn’t imagine the heartbroken look on her face when she looked at the destroyed remains of the place she could have called home.
I stood to the right of the helm without looking at Sawyer, my eyes trying to piece the broken streets back together to match the images in my memory. Nash and Gemma were near the bow, huddling together for warmth. Both of them were whispering quietly, casting grim looks at Sawyer. The captain stared straight ahead, but I had the feeling Sawyer saw them all the same.
“Is…” I hadn’t meant to bring the topic up, but Sawyer was already looking at me, expecting me to continue. “Is everything all right with you and Gemma and Nash?”
Sawyer’s eyes became shadowed, the darkness vanishing so fast I was half certain I’d imagined it.
“It’s fine,” he smiled thinly. “Gemma’s just thinking I should be more lenient and less suspicious, and Nash is agreeing with her.”
“Well, you could be, you know,” I prompted.
He turned his eyes to me, a smooth grin sliding
I didn’t know what I could do, if I would make things better or worse for everyone. If I would even live long enough to see this machine completed. If it even existed. Garnet Dayton, the Electrician who all but press-ganged me into his service, had worked with my parents during the Discovery and saw no reason to lie when he told me about their hopes for shutting the Breach. But neither did my mother, who told me nothing.
Yet I wouldn’t accept defeat just because the obstacles in my path were continuing to get steeper. I wouldn’t abandon hope that I could find a purpose for this key, and I wouldn’t believe that Riley was some kind of traitor when all he had done was help. I wouldn’t leave my sister to the fate of a beast too cowardly to face his enemies.
Maybe I was selfish after all.
Chapter 4
“Well, finding your house should be easy. Everything in the district is a pile of rubble.”
I glared at Sawyer’s callous sarcasm, though he wasn’t wrong.
Before The Storm, the drafter district was renowned throughout Aon as the most beautiful part of Westraven. Mostly occupied by engineers, architects, and Electricians, the buildings of the district were constructed of towering, whitewashed stones. Gleaming windows would reflect the sun and warm the pale grey cobblestone roads. Silver lampposts stood like slim trees on the shop corners, their bulbs shining like clear moons and lighting the entire block. The fountain depicting a dancing woman with a drooping scroll was placed in the Drafting Square, where monthly competitions used to be held for the best designed statue, the most effective electric current, and the quickest repair. Crowds would come in droves to watch the competitions. My parents always participated in the repairs, and would often win rewards of fancy dinners or free clothes from the wealthiest shops and restaurants in the market, and once even a trip to Meridia, the tropical, southern-most province of Aon.
Now, ten years later, I stood on the bow of a Hellion skiff, looking at the crumbled shops and apartments. White stone had become black with soot. Glass glittered under wind-swept dust, hiding most of the dark, crimson-stained cobblestones. The lampposts were tarnished and warped, some even knocked onto the street to block the roads. The fountain was shattered in heavy pieces, the dancing woman now a broken doll that would never be put back together again.
There were no bodies, no smoke, no sign of survivors. If there were any, they were probably hiding in the dilapidated buildings to avoid being seen. With the darkening clouds forming over our heads and the bitter, winter wind snapping at our faces, I couldn’t blame them for wanting to be indoors.
Looking at the state of drafter district weighed down my heart, but I was glad Abby had never seen it. I couldn’t imagine the heartbroken look on her face when she looked at the destroyed remains of the place she could have called home.
I stood to the right of the helm without looking at Sawyer, my eyes trying to piece the broken streets back together to match the images in my memory. Nash and Gemma were near the bow, huddling together for warmth. Both of them were whispering quietly, casting grim looks at Sawyer. The captain stared straight ahead, but I had the feeling Sawyer saw them all the same.
“Is…” I hadn’t meant to bring the topic up, but Sawyer was already looking at me, expecting me to continue. “Is everything all right with you and Gemma and Nash?”
Sawyer’s eyes became shadowed, the darkness vanishing so fast I was half certain I’d imagined it.
“It’s fine,” he smiled thinly. “Gemma’s just thinking I should be more lenient and less suspicious, and Nash is agreeing with her.”
“Well, you could be, you know,” I prompted.
He turned his eyes to me, a smooth grin sliding
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