Skyhunter (Skyhunter, #1)

by Marie Lu

When you’re fighting a losing war, you are always on edge.

I always warn him that they do not have the heart he has. He always reminds me that they once did, that before the Federation filled them with poison, they had smiled and laughed and been in love, that real hearts used to beat in their chests.

“Do it. Do it.” And I know it is over. If your Shield is bitten by a Ghost, you must cut his throat before he turns. This is the last thing we are taught. It is taught last because none of us want to think about what it means. Because sometimes the things that cut closest to your heart deserve the weight of being last. Corian looks straight at me. His eyes are bright with unshed tears.

:(

As always, I don’t utter a sound. But a heart can grieve in silence, so I sink to my knees beside Corian’s body and allow the tears to come.

i feel your pain :(

We sow the seeds of Infinite Destiny for our children so that they may rule from this earth to the stars.

My grin vanishes. My mother had warned me about rich boys.

my mother taught me nothing lol

I remember everything about that moment—the movement of his hands through the air, the easy way he took in my soundless words, the kind smile on his face. I knew that Ghosts on the warfront had powerful hearing, but I didn’t know that Strikers used sign language to communicate out there. My lips twitch with a grin. He’d understood me. He understands me.

In that moment, I make a vow to be like him. I’m going to find a way to walk through life with courage seared into my bones.

“Why can’t you appreciate my techniques?” Adena says to him. “You still haven’t tried out the ax I designed for you.” “It’s too heavy,” he insists. “Have you tried lifting that thing during battle?” “It’s the same weight as your sword! I designed it specifically for you.” “It’s hard to carry.” “Be honest. You don’t like it because it doesn’t look good.” Jeran gives me an embarrassed glance before looking back at his Shield. “The hilt doesn’t match the rest of my ensemble,” he finally signs. Adena throws her hands up. “I quit. I’m going home. Call me when the warfront no longer requires a sense of fashion.”

pfffttt

A rat and a prisoner of war. Perhaps we’re not so different after all.

It’s not our home. But you try your best to take your home with you, even if it’s a shack in the middle of a desperate place.

The truth is, for the past few weeks, when I’ve struggled to find a reason to get up every morning, I think of my mother. I think of this tiny home. And I always push myself out of bed.

“My mother and I lost everything,” I tell him, “when we fled into Mara—everything except for each other. Our pasts matter because they created us, helped mold us into who we are.”

Who do I defend myself from? The Ghosts, or him? Is he about to help me? With a jolt of terror, I finally remember what he said the Federation called him. Skyhunter. Their experiment. Their weapon of war. He attacks.

Red is that twelve-year-old boy. The same one who had held the gun and failed to fire. The same young soldier from that night.

Corian. When I look at this scene, all I see is my dead Shield. It is always the gentle ones I fear for the most, those willing to bare their hearts, who grieve for others and feel happy for others’ happiness.

So this is what happens to soldiers in the Federation, why they stay loyal. Obey the Federation, and it will reward your entire family. Disobey, and not only are you branded and punished, but your family will suffer similar fates.

Finally, he says, I always did what the Federation told me to do, because I was afraid of the repercussions. So I killed others in order to protect my family. His words are laced with sorrow. But then you kill again and again, and each time the threat builds, the pressure to keep them safe. They escalate their demands. You first shoot a war criminal in the back. And then they tell you to kill a soldier who is innocent. And then they tell you to kill a civilian, and then a young girl. And you realize that if you keep agreeing, it will keep spiraling down, down, down, until you’ve killed your own soul. He shakes his head. I just couldn’t do it anymore. I don’t know if I regret it. I don’t know. I don’t know.

“They’re my family, Adena.” “So? Your family can also be the poison in your life.”

Family can he overrated

Even though I know he can’t hear my words from this distance, I send him my thoughts anyway. We’re not leaving this place without you, I tell him. And all of this—these sick games, this awful display, the torment of these souls—will come to an end. We will avenge your family, and mine. I promise. I don’t know how much of that promise Red can feel. But the thread of emotions between us turns dark, determined. My eyes lock on the Premier still standing casually up on the balconies, his cool eyes turned down at this hall. We may all die by the end of this mission, but so long as I’m alive, I’m going to bring this Federation down. I’ll tear down every brick of this place if I have to, until there is no breath left in my body.

There’s a grief in Aramin’s voice now. “You defend others, fight for their right to live. But you don’t defend yourself against those who want to hurt you. You won’t fight for yourself.”

He thinks he has won, that I am proof of the final defeat of a nation. He thinks he will alter my mind, erase who I am, and dedicate me to his cause. He will cut open my back and peel away the human in me, filling me instead with black steel and bladed wings. He will change me into his war machine, an angel of death. Then he will try to make me forget by showering me with land, wealth, and respect. But conquering people is easy. You break past their defenses, seize their cities, burn their world to the ground. To annihilate us, though, is impossible. A seed will survive. I am not done. I will not forget. The guards step away from my mother. The Premier gives me an approving nod. “Good,” he says. “Now, my Skyhunter, let’s begin.”