Welcome to Part III! This is the third and final installment of the ReGeneration trilogy! This is not a stand alone piece, so if you didn’t read the previous 2 parts, I implore you to start with The Maddening before making your way here. The chapters in Part III are the newest ones I’ve been working on, and this is the only part that is currently unfinished. I’m working hard to make my way through the end of this beast. I would really appreciate any and all feedback you may have. Thanks to all who have reviewed the project so far!

ReGeneration

Part Three: Borne out of Ash

1

The disciple dreams as the goddess sleeps

Black . . .

The world had faded into a deep void of nothingness, drifting, floating . . .

Until finally a pair of eyes opened, but when they did, they opened to darkness still. The eyes, when they had closed, had been older, more tired eyes, but as they opened now, they were the brown eyes of a young boy. Nine years old, thin, wiry. His name was Nate and he lived in a two room apartment in New Ceotu with his sister, who was seven, and his young mother. The boy was sitting in a closet, striped with the dim light of a candle flickering from the next room through the cracks in the panels of wood forming the door. He was not alone. He could hear the rapid breaths of his sister, Natalie, heaving close by. They had been whisked into the closet by their mother, Denni Ryder. Denni had left the apartment and returned shortly after with a strange man, who she had lead through the first room, past the closet her children sat in, and enclosed into the bedroom. The strange man had seemed old to Nate then, as he had been only nine, but the truth was that the man was probably only twice Nate’s age, if even that old, and certainly younger than Denni, no matter her surprising youth for possessing a nine-year-old son. Now, young Nate could hear his mother and the strange man moving about in the bedroom, a rhythmic thudding accompanied by groans and gasps of both the man and the woman. It always sounded as if Denni’s strange visitors were beating her, making her cry out in pain, and secretly, Nate always hoped whatever they were doing, hurt her badly, despite the fact that whenever she emerged, she didn’t appear to be bruised in any way.

Nate’s stomach growled. He had not yet eaten that day. There had been nothing to eat. His sister’s breathing that sounded over his shoulder in his ear started to sicken him. She was leaning closer because she didn’t like the dark and he always felt smothered when she pressed so close.

Nate pushed his elbow back, nudging his sister further away, then reached for the handle and slowly turned it. The door was not locked and slid open easily. Nate stood and stretched as he emerged from the closet; his sister watched him but remained where she was in the closet.

“Where are you going?” Natty whispered. “You know we’re not supposed to come out when someone’s here.”

Nate scowled. “I don’t care,” he spat.

“Mims will hit you again.”

Nate clenched his jaw. “Then I’ll hit her back,” he muttered. “I’m not afraid of her.”

Nate walked away from the closet to the table. The strange man’s jacket was laying across it. The thudding and moaning could still be heard from the bedroom. Nate scowled down at the jacket, thinking about the strange man pounding on his mother, hating both the man and his mother equally. He began fishing through the pockets of the jacket, pulling out coins and stuffing them into his own pockets.

Nate couldn’t quite say why he stole money from his mother’s “visitors”. He knew he would get caught. He always did. The men would discover the missing coins, news of it would always come back to his mother, and then his mother, in turn, would come home in a rage, slapping the boy around, screaming at him, locking him in the closet. ‘Why?!’ she would shriek. ‘He would pay me more than twice what you stole every time he came to see me, and now thanks to you, he’ll never come here again!’ Nate never had an answer. He didn’t know why he did it. Perhaps it was purely impulsive rebellion. The woman he loathed more than anyone in the world told him not to, and he had to prove to her that she couldn’t make him stop.

Natty had finally crept out of the closet, peering cautiously through the doorway, and finding her brother fishing through her mother’s visitor’s jacket pockets. “What are you doing?” she hissed.

“What does it look like?”

Natty scowled, marching out into the room towards the table. “Stop it!” she whispered. “The man is going to give Mims money. You don’t have to steal it! Mims is gonna be so mad!” The girl tried to slip her hand into Nate’s pockets to recover the stolen loot, but Nate slapped her arm hard and she frowned, pulling her stinging arm close to her chest.

“The man will give Denni money!” Nate replied. “You think we’ll ever see any of it? I’m hungry! Do you think she’s ever hungry, Nat? Do you? She eats! She eats and lets us starve!” Nate shook his head. “Well, not me. I’m not going to starve.”

Natty refused to listen to him. Mims was good to her, kind to her. Sure, Natty was hungry a lot, but when she was, she would go to her mother and tell her so and Mims would wrap Natty up in her arms and whisper in Natty’s ear that she was hungry too, and they’d have food soon. She approached her brother again and stuck her hand in his pocket, snatching a couple of coins in her fist and tried to pull back quickly.

But she was not quick enough. Young Nate clawed out savagely, clamping a hand around Natty’s wrist. She whined, trying to pry his grip off with her left hand, but he squeezed her wrist harder, twisting it, trying to force her to drop the coins.

“Stop it!” she cried. “Nate, you’re hurting me!”

But he wouldn’t stop. He wrenched her wrist sideways.

“Ow!” she sobbed. “Ow! You’re hurting me! Nate, stop it!”

She squirmed and whimpered under his merciless grip. Nate looked down at her pained face. He should have felt pity. He should have felt guilt. He should have let go. But he felt nothing but detached, and angry. No one ever gave him anything; he had come to accept the fact that if he wanted anything in life, he had to take it himself. How dare Natty try to take from him the one thing he could have for himself?

He hated her, too. Even if just a little bit, he hated Natty too, sometimes. He wasn’t blind to the affection that their mother bestowed upon his sister that had always been denied to him. Natty was Mims’ perfect little angel while Nate was the bane of her existence. It wasn’t fair. Natty should have to suffer, too, sometimes. Natty should know the pain that he felt.

“Nate, stop!” Natty cried. She grabbed his wrist with her free hand, trying to pry it off, her weak efforts making Nate shake his head in ridicule.

Natty suddenly growled and Nate saw her face change from pained desperation to pure rage. It was a look he had never seen on her face before and it unnerved him for a second.

Then a sudden flash zapped through his wrist, up his arm to his shoulder, both burning and icy at the same time, painful and numbing. His grip on his sisters arm immediately released, his arm falling limply to his side. He was stunned for a moment, taking a step back and panicking as he tried to move his tingling arm and found he couldn’t.

Natty stumbled back as well, the coins in her hand plummeting to the floor and skidding over the planks of wood beneath her feet.

The noise pulled Nate’s gaze back up to Natty and as he saw the surprised and guilty look on her face, he suddenly understood that the shooting pain that had raced up his wrist had come from her hand, had come from her. He couldn’t comprehend how she had done it, but he knew she had, and she had done it on purpose!

“You witch!” he shrieked, lunging toward her.

“No!” Natty wailed, darting around table to distance herself from her enraged brother. “Nate, I’m sorry! I didn’t mean to!”

“You red-bird, caise freak!” he yelled. “They should lock you up!” He chased her around the table. “I’ll tell every soldier in the city! They’ll take you to Madden and lock you up for good!”

He finally caught her and shoved her roughly to the floor. She crumbled beneath the blow, curling up into a ball on the ground and sobbing.

Suddenly, the door to the bedroom flew open. “What on earth is going on in here?!”

Nate snapped his head around to see Denni emerging from the bedroom, adjusting her skirt and shrugging the shoulder of shirt up. The strange man appeared behind her, still buttoning his pants. He threw an awkward glance at Denni’s two children wrestling and crying on the floor, then quickly pushed past her and headed towards the door, snatching up his jacket. As he did, he heard a coin clatter to the floor. He looked at his feet to find more coins scattered over the floorboards. He shook his head incredulously, bending to scoop up the coins.

“No wonder you were so fucking cheap!” the man spat to Denni, then exited and slammed the door.

Denni’s face contorted in rage. She balled her fists and motioned as if she meant to throw something towards the door, but had nothing in her hands or within reach to throw. Then, still seething with anger, she spun to her son, clawed at his arm and pushed him back off of his sister.

“What were you doing?!” Denni bellowed at Nate. She turned back towards Natty and helped pull the girl gently to her feet. Natty was still crying, tears smeared down her red cheeks.

“She’s a bloody witch!” Nate exploded, pointing an accusing finger at his little sister. “She zapped me with her magic!”

Denni suddenly spun back to Nate, her face menacingly dark. Before Nate even saw it coming, she had swung her hand back and slapped the boy viciously across the face. She then took him by the arm, dragged him to the closet, and shoved him back inside, slamming the door shut. This time, once inside, he heard the metallic clacking of the bolt sliding in place to lock the door.

Nate sat down in the closet, hugging his knees close to his chest. He began rocking himself back and forth, trying to ignore the stinging on the side of his face. The tingling in his arm was finally starting to fade. The familiar urge to cry was creeping up on him again, but he refused to let himself. Swallow it down, he told himself. Think of something else.

He could hear the muffled voices of his mother and his sister from the room outside the closet. He could hear Denni cooing to the young girl, soothing her; he could hear the subsiding snuffles from his sister as her tears began to dry; he could even hear her giggle at something that Denni whispered to her, which was then accompanied by Denni’s soft laughter.

Yes, he hated them. He hated them both.

Finally he heard movement in the room. It had to be Denni’s feet (Natty’s footsteps were softer and shuffled more) that approached the closet. The lock was shimmied open and the door slid back.

Nate stared up at his mother’s stern face from where he was crouched on the floor.

“You are never to speak a word of what your sister can do, do you hear me?” she said.

Nate swallowed, scowling. “But . . . !”

Denni knelt down to Nate’s eyelevel. “Not one fucking word!” she snapped. “Not to anyone! If Madden were ever to find out, they would take her, and they would kill her! And I swear, if the Mad-men ever come to take her away, I will have them take you, too! Do you understand me?”

Nate just stared back silently, glaring.

“Her life is in danger,” Denni growled. “If she is ever found out, it will be on your head, Nathan.”

On your head . . .

On you head, Nathan . . .

The vision of Denni kneeling in the closet doorway suddenly shuddered and blurred, flicking translucent for a second.

Nate furrowed his brow, curious and nervous. He started forward towards the drifting form of his mother, her face shifting. He crawled towards the doorway, but as the doorway approached, his mother seemed to stretch further away. As he reached the door and reached out towards her, his hand lay flat against the door. He was once again enclosed in darkness.

Nathan stood and gripped the handle of the closed door before him. Oddly, the door handle seemed much lower than it had been . . . or perhaps he was much taller . . .

He turned the knob and pushed the door back. What lay beyond was a long, bleak corridor. The left wall of the corridor was stone and lined with sconces that flickered with the artificial flames that buzzed with the dangerous echo of technology of ages passed and rediscovered. This artificial flame was found in only one place on earth—Madden’s New Ceotu base. The right wall of the corridor was striped with alternating blocks of stone and doorways made of crossed iron bars. It was a prison.

There was a uniformed soldier standing a few yards down the corridor who turned as Nathan entered. The soldier cocked his head to the side, obviously not recognizing the young man who had just entered, and approached the newcomer.

Nathan, no longer the scrawny nine-year-old, but a young man of 18 who wore a matching uniform and was known throughout the base mostly as just “Ryder”, bowed his head under the other soldier’s scrutiny, knowing he did not belong there and shouldn’t have come. He almost turned to run, but reminded himself again of the girl he had come to see and knew he could not abandon her. He had done enough to her already. He stood his ground and closed the door behind him.

The soldier, who was much older than Nathan, regarded the young man sternly. “Who are you? If you are not a Tower Guard, or in Tower training, you are trespassing on Madden’s personal quarters, which is punishable as treason.”

Nathan swallowed down his anxiety and looked up the meet the man’s gaze. “I do understand, Sir,” he said quietly, his voice not soft out of meekness, but in confidence. “I’m here to fill in for Halloran.”

“What?!” the soldier cried. “What kind of game do you think this is, soldier? What is your name?” The soldier grabbed Nathan’s sleeve.

“No, really, sir!” Nathan said. “Halloran’s sick. Really sick! He can’t even get out of bed!”

The soldier shook his head. “Don’t bullshit me.”

“He didn’t want to report it, because he was afraid he’d lose his position for Tower Guard!” Nathan insisted. “Any sign of weakness and they’d put him back on patrol duty. I told him I’d try to cover for him just for tonight. He wants to be a Tower Guard so bad.”

The man frowned at Nathan a moment, mulling over his words. Then he finally sighed. “Pretty gutsy move on your part, kid,” he chuckled.

Nathan swallowed. “Hal’s a good friend,” he offered.

The soldier shook his head. “Alright, Dean’s a good kid, and a good soldier, so I’ll let this go for tonight.” Nathan sighed in relief. “But Dean better be back tomorrow.”

“Of course!”

The older soldier nodded in approval. “I’m Captain Lowen,” he said. “What’s your name?”

“Ryder,” Nathan replied.

“Alright,” Lowen stated, “you just stick with me tonight. Don’t speak to any other soldiers in the Tower, and . . . don’t do anything. It’s pretty quiet up here, but if anything happens, just stay out of the way, understood?”

“Yes sir.” And it had been as easy as that.

The entire story had been a lie. Halloran wasn’t sick at all. Nathan had begged Halloran to let Nathan switch places with him so that Nathan was able to go up to the tower dungeon. Halloran had told him that a girl by the name of Natalie Ryder had been brought in a week ago, some witch that had been discovered in a small town up north, and wasn’t it odd that she had the same name as Nathan? Did Nathan know her by any chance . . . ? That was how Nathan had found out that Natty had been captured. He didn’t know how it was possible. He hadn’t even seen his sister in two years, ever since he had joined the army and Natty had fled from New Ceotu with their ill mother, accusing Nathan of putting her life in danger by joining Madden’s militia. Natty had said that he would be tempted to divulge her dangerous secret once inside, that if he was so weak as to let them coerce him to join, that he may tell them anything to win their confidence in him. He swore to her that he would never tell a soul, yelled at her that she couldn’t possibly understand the pressures of living in New Ceotu as a young man, that she would never know the fear of being accused of treason for refusing to join the army. So he had gone to the base and Natty and Denni Ryder had fled. They didn’t tell him where they had gone, and he was glad for that. And even still, he had kept Natalie’s secret. He had never told a soul at the base that he had had a sister at all, let alone that her body sizzled with the potential power matching that which Madden had newly rediscovered and toiled to create. It took Madden massive machines and dozens of men to man them to create the same power that Natalie could produce with the flick of her wrist. Madden called it “electricity”, both deadly and powerful. Nathan had kept Natalie’s secret and still, she had been discovered. How? How had Madden found out?

Nathan straightened before the Captain, gripping desperately at his cover. He began to stroll down the corridor casually, glancing into the cells that he passed, seemingly out of bored curiosity. Most cells were empty. About halfway down the corridor, however, he froze. Crouched at the back of one cell was a frail looking girl. Her head was bent, covered by long, wavy brunette locks. His breath caught in his throat and he took an unconscious step towards the barred door to the cell.

“Hey!” Lowen barked.

Nathan froze and at the sound, the girl lifted her head. Her eyes fell upon Nathan’s and recognition flickered across her face.

With some effort, Nathan turned his head towards the Captain, who was approaching.

“Stay away from the girl,” Lowen instructed. “She’s dangerous. She seems pretty sedated, but she’s unpredictable.” Lowen stood beside Nathan, nodding towards the girl. “She has electricity in her fingers. Fried a man’s brain in five seconds.”

Nathan swallowed and turned his gaze back at Natalie. Her eyes were locked on his, wide and frightened. Nathan shook his head and moved further down the hall, out of Natalie’s sight.

He had to talk to her. He had to. She looked to small, so weak. It was not the Natalie that he remembered. But he couldn’t blow his cover, he couldn’t put Halloran in danger, especially after Halloran had agreed to help him. He would have to wait and hope for a chance to distract Lowen so he could talk to her alone.

So he waited . . . and waited . . .

Time seemed to shift and stretch, the corridor shifting as well. It had been hours that Nathan had waited, nervous every moment that he would be discovered, that Lowen would see it on his face that the witch in the cell was Nathan’s sister, that all Nathan wanted to do was to break her out of the cell and take her somewhere far away where Madden couldn’t touch her.

At some late hour into the night, a noise suddenly sounded from the door outside the corridor. Captain Lowen answered it and announced to Nathan that a new prisoner was being brought in.

“You just stay here, kid,” Lowen said. “I’ve got to go down to help escort the prisoner. You’ll be okay here with the prisoners, right?”

Nathan couldn’t even find his voice. He could only nod.

The second Lowen left the dungeon, Nathan raced to Natalie’s cell, kneeling down and gripping the bars that formed the door.

“Natty!” he whispered. “Natty, can you hear me?”

Natty lifted her eyes to his and she gave a weak smile. Her face was thin and pale, ugly dark circles painted under her eyes. She leaned forward onto her hands and knees, crawling slowly towards Nathan as if every movement she made caused her pain. When she was still a few feet from the cell door, she jerked to a halt as the chain around her leg reached it’s length. She sighed heavily, rolling herself into a sitting position and twisted her torso towards Nathan, reaching her right hand as far as she could.

Nathan grimaced at the pathetic sight and slipped his own arm through the bars until the bars pressed uncomfortably at his shoulder. His fingertips just barely brushed hers. “Natty, I’m so sorry!” Nathan said.

Natalie shook her head sadly. “It’s okay, Nate,” she whispered.

“Are you alight?” he asked, but the dark look on her face told him all he needed to know. “I’ll kill him,” Nathan growled. “I’ll kill him for what he’s done to you.”

“No you won’t,” Natalie replied, shaking her head. She was chuckling, but it sounded pained.

Nathan hung his head, knowing she was right. Killing Madden was utterly laughable.

“Natalie,” he said, “I swear to you I never told. I’m so sorry. I never wanted this to happen to you. You have to believe me. I never said a word about you.”

Natalie titled her head to the side, a sad smile on her lips. “I know, Nate,” she replied. “I know it wasn’t you. It was Jones. It was my own fault. I never should have trusted him.”

Nathan shook his head. “What are you talking about?” he demanded, utterly baffled.

“He was a soldier,” Natalie said. “He said he knew you.”

Nathan blinked. “Jones Mason?!” he cried.

Natalie nodded. “He was stationed in Ronan for a while,” she said.

Nathan was quiet a moment. “That’s were you were,” he realized. Mase had just come back from a post in some small northern town called Ronan that was rumored to be harboring a rebel group. “I never knew . . .”

“I know,” Natalie murmured.

Nathan rubbed his face, trying to piece everything together. “But how did Mase find out?” he asked.

Natalie paused. “I told him.”

Nathan gaped at her. “But why?!” he yelled.

Natalie frowned, her eyes glossy with tears. “. . . He said he loved me,” she whispered. She shook her head. “I was so stupid. He said he loved me and I thought I could tell him, but he was weak.” She lifted her eyes to meet her brother’s. “So much weaker than you, Nathan. I trusted the wrong man. I thought I could trust him and not you, and it turns out it should have been the other way around. Don’t worry, I’m the one who made the mistake and I’m paying for it now.”

“Don’t say that!” Nathan snapped. “No one deserves this, Natalie, there must be some way . . .”

Nathan heard voices approaching the corridor from beyond the door and he knew Captain Lowen was surely returning.

Nathan urgently turned back to Natalie. “Listen to me, Natty,” he said quickly. “I have to go now, I can’t let them catch me talking to you.”

“I know,” she replied. “Go. It’s okay.”

“I’ll come back, though. I’ll get you out of here.”
“No!” Natalie suddenly cried, shaking her head. “No! I can’t let you put yourself in danger. Forget about me. If you try anything foolish, you’ll just end up in here like me . . . or worse. At least you’re still free, Nathan. You have to go. I’ll be alright.”

“I won’t leave you here,” he spoke adamantly. “I’ll find a way to get you out of here. I promise you.” The doorknob was turning and Nathan pushed himself away from the cell door, rising to his feet.

As he walked away from her cell, he turned his head to look at her one last time and said, “I also promise you that Jones Mason will pay for putting you in here.”

Then Natalie was gone, disappearing to the back of her cell, and her cell stretching further back as Nathan walked on down the corridor. He could hear sounds coming from outside the door. As he reached the end of the corridor, staring at the door, he couldn’t remember now if someone was coming in, or if he was going out. He rested his hand on the knob, throwing one last glance to the corridor that stretched out behind him. Then he turned the knob and stepped through the door, back into darkness.

The dark began to rise, strange, flickering light appearing from both sides of him, growing to reveal another corridor before him. It was one he did not immediately recognize, but similar to the one he had just left. The same electric sconces glowed on the walls. But there were no cells down this corridor. Just more corridors going in every direction. Nathan began forward, winding through the halls as they twisted and turned upon each other, crossing sometimes, weaving his way through the maze created by the strange network of corridors. He walked aimlessly, his body moving as if drawn by some invisible force.

He found himself standing at the top of an immense stairway descending far below him, curving around itself to that Nathan couldn’t see the end. He feet kept moving him, taking him down into the unknown depths of the staircase. Down, down, he climbed, seeing nothing but bland stone walls and Madden’s electric lights. As he descended, he started hearing noises rise from below him. Voices. One, in particular was a voice that was so familiar to him, it struck a pang of longing in his heart. It was a the voice of a woman, crying out, pleading. Wordless sounds that struck his ears with a wave of horror. He increased his pace.

Words were finally forming out of the cries from below: “. . . Help me! Please . . . Nathan . . . help!”

Nathan’s feet flew down the steps, his heart racing. The woman calling to him was Lorelei.

Before he had even seen the end of the staircase, he had skidded to the bottom, his body slamming into the closed door standing at the last step. From behind the door, he could still hear Lorelei crying out to him.

“Nathan . . . Please . . . Nathan!”

He gripped the doorknob and tried to wrench it open, but to his dismay, it wouldn’t budge. He pounded on the door with the fist of his right hand, wrestling the knob with his left. “Lorelei!” he yelled. “Lorelei, can you hear me? Hang on, Lori! I’m coming!” He threw his body against the door again, feeling the wood shudder beneath his weight, but the door still would not open.

The room beyond the door had fallen silent, the only sound Nathan could hear now was his own struggle to open the door. He backed up again, the rammed the door a third time. Still nothing.

Then suddenly, a deafening bang sounded from within the room, shuddering the door and freezing Nathan in his tracks. Terror crept up his spine and color drained from his face. All was silent.

“Lori!” Nathan shrieked, pressing his ear to the door, but there was no response. Nathan reached his shaking hand toward the handle again, and this time, it turned freely beneath his grip. The door swung open.

Beyond the door stood a white room, both massive and tiny at the same time, lacking walls or a ceiling or a floor, just white, suffocating space. And at the center stood Lorelei. Her eyes locked on Nathan’s, her mouth a perfect “o” of surprise. She stood there for just a second before she collapsed backwards, arms flailing as she crumbled to the ground like a rag doll. Nathan screamed out to her, his words unintelligible, and ran to her side, kneeling down over her, tears springing into his eyes. A rose of crimson color blossomed in her middle, growing and spreading, painting the white room blood red.

With her last bit of strength, Lorelei reached up and brushed bloodstained fingers against Nathan’s cheek. She exhaled her last breath, “Thank you, Nathan . . .”

Then her eyes snapped shut, enclosing both herself and Nathan in impenetrable blackness.

“Nathan.” A hand was on his shoulder and his eyes snapped open. Nathan jerked awake, swallowing back the scream that threatened to spill from his throat.

“Nathan! Are you okay?”

Nathan gasped, looking up at the crimson-haired boy who had spoken. He exhaled slowly, trying to catch his breath, and nodded.

Garret regarded his comrade with concern. “Maybe you should get some rest,” he offered.

Nathan shook his head, then glanced over Garret’s shoulder at the comatose woman lying on the bed behind him. “I want to watch her . . . just in case . . .”

“I can stay with the Lady,” Garret said. “I’ll watch her. I promise, when she awakens, you’ll be the first to know. You need to get some sleep. You look like death.”

Nathan eyed Garret. He accepted that Garret was telling the truth; it was the only explanation for the kindness the ‘Sent was bestowing on him now. “Sleep does no good,” Nathan told the boy. Garret could see the dark circles under Nathan’s eyes and could think of nothing more to say, so merely averted his eyes.

“Maybe you’re right,” Nathan sighed. “Maybe I should lie down.”

Garret nodded quickly.

“Just promise me you’ll watch her,” Nathan begged.

“Of course,” Garret agreed.

Nathan began to stand from the chair he sat in, Garret reaching out with a hand on his arm to steady him. Nathan slowly made his way to the door, casting a longing glance at Lorelei before leaving the room.

“She’s going to make it,” Garret stated.

Nathan turned, fixing his tired eyes on the boy. “How do you know that?”

Garret swallowed. He didn’t know. That was the thing with faith. He just had to believe, because without the belief he had nothing.

“I just know,” Garret declared.

Nathan just shook his head and left.

It was late at night and Llynette DeRuin couldn’t sleep. Patience (among many others) was not a virtue she possessed. It had been two days since she had slaved over Thirteen’s blood, fascinated by the strange virus she had found attacking Thirteen’s defenses, stifling her ability to regenerate, choking the very life from her. She had been tempted to let it continue, to see how far the virus would go before Thirteen’s death, to see the breakdown of the woman who should have been invincible. But if Llynette let her die, then her own fun would be over. So the scientist had poured over the old texts buried beneath some kind of Old Gen medical center until she had found notes on a similar virus and its antidote. She wasn’t sure the cure would work; hell, in these dark times, her experiments were guesses at best. If it worked, lucky guess; if it didn’t, try again. Unfortunately she didn’t have the luxury of second chances with Thirteen; once she was dead, DeRuin’s most precious experiment and life’s work would die with her.

Llynette growled in frustration and threw back the covers, climbing out of bed and dressing herself in furs before venturing outside. Outside of the basement where she lived and conducted most of her research and experiments, she trudged through the slush lining the ancient streets of Nai Orka. A block or so away was the Old Gen medical center where she had laid Thirteen to rest.

Thirteen would live, Llynette DeRuin concluded, Thirteen would live even if it killed her.