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But I am no Gold. I am a Red.
“The Golds dance in pairs, Obsidians in threes, Grays in dozens,” he told me. “We dance alone, because only alone do Helldivers drill. Only alone can a boy become a man.”
“We have claim over this land, Darrow. Our sweat and blood watered this soil. Yet it belongs to the Golds, to the Society. How long has it been this way? A hundred, a hundred and fifty years of pioneers mining and dying? Our blood and their orders. We prepare this land for Colors that have never shed sweat for us, Colors that sit in comfort on their thrones on distant Earth, Colors that have never been to Mars. Is that something to live for? I’ll say it again, your father had the right of it.”
I want you to think owning this land, our land, is worth the risk.”
“Death isn’t empty like you say it is. Emptiness is life without freedom, Darrow. Emptiness is living chained by fear, fear of loss, of death. I say we break those chains. Break the chains of fear and you break the chains that bind us to the Golds, to the Society.
But never has Eo been more beautiful to me than in that moment. In the face of cold power, she is fire.
“Break the chains!”
“Dreamers like your wife are limited, little Helldiver.”
“Understand that. The only power they have is in death. The harder they die, the louder their voice, the deeper the echoes. But your wife served her purpose.”
“The same as yours, little Helldiver. To make the dream come true.”
“They heard her song and they call her Persephone already.”
“She will not come back, but her beauty, her voice, will echo until the end of time. She believed in something beyond herself, and her death gave her voice power it didn’t have in life. She was pure, like your father.
“Then what will it take to take it back?” “Blood.”
“Others may have failed. But you’ll be different, Darrow. I feel it in my bones.”
“You’re of use because you’re more than a weapon. When your wife died, she didn’t just give you a vendetta. She gave you her dream. You’re its keeper. Its maker. So don’t be spitting anger and hate. You’re not fighting against them, no matter what Harmony says. You’re fighting for Eo’s dream, for your family that is still alive, your people.”
“See. That’s what I don’t get. If I am a good man, then why do I want to do bad things?”
“In time you will receive your Scars from my sword,” Augustus closes. “But first you must earn them.”
I want to tell him I’m a Red. Some part of me thinks he is too. And some other part of me thinks he’ll respect me more if he knows I am a Red.
“Father told me that there would be riots because of that song. That people would die. But it is such a soft melody.”
“I was wrong, about you. That’s rare.”
“No one grasps the game, because no one knows the rules. No one follows the same set of rules. It is like life. Some think honor universal. Some think laws binding. Others know better. But in the end, don’t those who rise by poison die by poison?”
“Nothing.” “Nothing isn’t enough.” “To fix what he tried to do to me? To make it right?” She shakes her head and her hands clutch her sides. “Nothing is enough.”
“The measure of a man is what he does when he has power,”
“You do not follow me because I am the strongest. Pax is. You do not follow me because I am the brightest. Mustang is. You follow me because you do not know where you are going. I do.”
“When you slept next to me. You cried out the first week in the woods. After that, you slept like a little baby.”
“Because they are afraid of us,” I tell him. “Afraid of you, you mean.”
“I had a brother die. It’s not … it wasn’t the same thing. But … a death like that, it changes things.”
“You’re a friend. I hope you know that.” I clap him on the shoulder. “Not a game friend. A real friend now, when we’re out of here. You know that, yes?”
They chant and chant the name of the Reaper at the Proctors, because they know whom we now fight.
She smiles at me. She is beautiful. Like Eo.
“Everyone is so frightened of change,”
“Despite everything, thank you.” He clasps it. “Good luck, Darrow,” he says. “But take care of Sevro. The little shit will follow you anywhere, no matter what I say.” “I’ll take care of him. I promise.”
“So there is the answer. You are going to do great things, Darrow.” She never calls me Darrow. “Maybe you don’t have to do them alone?”
“I thought we should become better acquainted,” I say. I point to myself. “Jackal, I am Reaper.”
“Humans are always negotiating. That’s what conversation is. Someone has something, knows something. Someone wants something.”
We were enemies as children. Now let us be allies as men. You’re the sword, I’m the pen.”
told you. I am something different than you. A hand is a peasant’s tool. A Gold’s tool is his mind. Were you of better breeding, you may have realized this sacrifice means so very little to me.”
My hands are my everything. To him, they are nothing.
We cannot hear, but a pack of wolves does not need words to know that it is time to hunt.
“They took Mustang,” I tell my pack. They look on silently. The Jackal no longer matters. “So now we take Olympus.”
“Whose are these?” Sevro asks me. “Daddy’s,” I tell him.
The Proctors have played their games. They pushed and pushed for so long. They knew I was something dangerous, something different.
Godslayer. Sunkiller, they fancy me.
Funny thing, watching gods realize they’ve been mortal all along.
Olympus is ours and Mustang has been found.
But when I take it out, a dagger slips into my heart. Worse than any metal blade. Eo. The pain will never go away. I don’t know if it is supposed to. And I don’t know if this guilt I feel is owed.
“I’ve become the maiden in distress, haven’t I? Slag! I hate those girls.”
This is when I kiss her. I cannot give her the haemanthus. That is my heart, and it is of Mars—one of the only things born from the red soil. And it is still Eo’s. But this girl, when they took her … I would have done anything to see her smirking again. Perhaps one day I’ll have two hearts to give.
“You’re a peculiar creature. You and the Jackal both. Everyone always wants to win. But you two stand apart, freaks. Golds won’t die to win. We value our lives too much. You two don’t. Where did it come from?”
“Well, fine. If you must know, if there’s simply no other way of going about it: she is the Jackal’s twin sister.”
