The Luminous Dead

by Caitlin Starling

If Em had ever wanted Gyre to trust her, she’d given up on the ledge. That cold look of hers when Gyre had told her to screw herself over administering the sedative—Gyre knew that look on a deep, intimate level. That was the look of somebody resigned to being the monster they knew they were.

Gyre read that Isolde Arasgain was last seen nine years ago near the entry point for this cave. No sign of her, body or otherwise, had ever been seen again.

The problem, as far as Gyre could see it—aside from this being a suicide mission to begin with—was that half of any success was luck.

“Stop telling me how to die,” Gyre hissed,

You’re hitting your limit, the tired, exhausted part of her whispered in retort. You’re only human. Fuck that.

“You’re a monster,” Gyre agreed. Em’s flinch brought her no joy, no vindication. “But a human monster. People are selfish. You are. I am. Humans are selfish. It’s what we do. You loaded the gun, but Jennie Mercer, Michael Doren, me—we all pulled the trigger. We all decided the risk was worth it. You never forced us.”

Em had been clear: the only thing unique about Gyre was the combination of her failures.

When Gyre had been ready to follow Isolde, Em had been there to carry her back into the sun. When Em had been forced to see the full horror of everything she’d done, Gyre had seen the humanity in her. They had broken each other open down in the dark, and now that their wreckage was splayed out in the light, Gyre recognized every inch of Em, and Em knew every inch of her.