Mikey stood frozen at the edge of the cliffside, eyes sweeping over the endless stretch of pale-gold sand. The sheer scale of it made his chest feel hollow. He had grown up on steel floors, damp concrete, and the hum of filtration systems. This was alive.
It smelled… wild. A mix of sun-baked stone, briny air, and something sweet but faint—like the memory of flowers long gone.
Drawn forward, Mikey stepped down. The ground yielded beneath his boots, swallowing them slightly, as if reluctant to let go. He crouched, fingers digging into the soft earth. A cascade of tiny crystals slipped through his hand, each one catching the low sun and flashing like fragments of broken glass. The warmth of it sank into his skin, foreign yet oddly comforting.
Bobo watched from a few paces back, arms folded, his eyes shadowed with something between amusement and nostalgia.
"Never seen sand before, kiddo?"
His tone carried the edge of a joke, but there was an odd softness beneath it.
Mikey didn't look up, still watching the last grains slip away. He straightened, brushing his palms against his thighs.
"No. Never. It's… just like in the books."
His voice was hushed, as if speaking too loudly might shatter the moment.
Bobo let out a short laugh and shook his head.
"Geez, kid… I was joking." He walked past, muttering under his breath, "Holy shit."
A presence settled behind Mikey—solid, steady. Ryosuke stepped forward, laying a firm hand on his shoulder. His red eyes scanned the horizon, lingering on the sun's descent, its light burning in gold and crimson. Out here, in this open sky, the colors looked almost unreal.
"This is the outside world, boy."
Mikey followed his gaze, the wind tugging at his hair.
"It's…"
"Utsukushī," Ryosuke finished, his voice quieter than usual, touched by something unspoken.
"What's that mean?" Mikey asked, tilting his head.
Ryosuke allowed a rare, small smile.
"My people's language. It means beautiful."
Mikey nodded slowly, testing the sound.
"Hmm… Utakashi."
Ryosuke's expression hardened. "No. Utsukushī."
"That's what I said—Ukatashi."
"Utsukushī."
"Ukuakshi?"
Ryosuke's jaw tensed. His patience thinning.
"No. Listen—oo-ts-koo-shee."
Mikey grinned, feigning concentration.
"Got it. Uu-ts-too-kee."
Ryosuke stared at him for a long beat, then turned and walked toward the others without a word, his long hair flowing in the breeze.
Mikey watched him go, smirking faintly.
"That was funnier than I thought it'd be."
Behind him, the wind carried the faint sound of sand shifting—like something moving just beneath the surface.
Mikey caught up to the others, sand slipping under his boots as they began the climb. The hill rose steep and shimmering in the heat, the grains sliding away at every step. His ribs ached with every breath, his legs burned from the constant uphill push—but the wonder of the place kept the pain at bay. The sting remained, but it was dulled beneath the sheer strangeness of walking through a living sea of gold.
The five crested the dune in a staggered line, their shadows stretching long across the ridge. Wind clawed at their clothes, carrying with it the hiss of shifting sand.
Mikey peered over the edge. Below lay a wide valley, its floor paved in dull gray gravel, ringed on all sides by towering dunes. It was like standing at the lip of some hidden arena.
They began the descent, boots grinding against loose stone as they traded the soft drag of sand for the crunch of pebbles. Ryosuke leaned heavily against Bobo's shoulder, silent and steady. Ahead, Luce and Amelia walked close, heads bent in conversation Mikey couldn't catch over the wind's low roar.
Amelia glanced back at him, then leaned closer to Luce and muttered something.
Mikey raised an eyebrow.
Her voice carried this time.
"Is he gonna be with us the whole time now?"
Luce's eyes flicked toward her.
"Yeah. If he passes the test. Which—"
"He won't," Amelia cut in flatly.
"Which he will," Luce corrected, her tone calm but firm. "I've seen him in action. He's not strong, not physically—but he's smart. Doesn't freeze like most people do. And he's got a goal."
"Goal?"
"Payne," Luce said simply. "From what I've heard, he wants Payne Morrison dead. Payne killed Desmond. Darla too. You know that."
Amelia slowed a little, considering that.
"What happened between you two, anyway?" Luce asked.
Amelia exhaled through her nose, eyes on the gravel at her feet.
"When I was infiltrating the Academy, I went to the graduation ceremony to pass off intel—"
"Which was…?"
"Nothing," Amelia said, her voice going flat.
"I couldn't find anything useful. Their systems were locked down too tight. I needed more time. But after the ceremony, I overheard Payne on a call—someone was telling him Desmond was their mole. Our comms had gone dark the day before, so I ran to tell him in person. But he was gone. Couldn't reach HQ either."
Luce tilted her head.
"Still not hearing what Mikey has to do with this."
"I'm getting there." Amelia's tone sharpened.
"Desmond talked about Mikey sometimes. I'd only seen old photos—him as a kid, with his mom. Then I saw him at the ceremony. He was late—really late—but somehow still valedictorian." She let out a dry chuckle.
Luce raised an eyebrow.
"Go on."
"He ended up sitting at my table, total coincidence. We talked. He was… funny. Kind. Said 'please' and 'thank you' to a service bot."
She gave a small, reluctant smile.
"So I invited him to this party some random guy I met at the ceremony had invited me to—probably thought I was hot, though he didn't say it like that. Mikey said he'd go. That same night I overheard Payne, so I met Mikey on the rooftop instead. We talked. I should've told him about Desmond right away, but… I didn't. Don't know why."
"And then?" Luce prompted.
"He showed me this holographic whale. It was… beautiful. We laughed and—"
"You almost kissed him, huh?" Luce smirked.
"What? No! I—"
"I'm busting your chops, Amelia," Luce said with a chuckle.
Amelia scowled but pressed on.
"I told him about the Council. About Desmond. Tried to warn him. But he freaked out. Next thing I know, soldiers show up and take me."
"Did he call them?"
"Yes!"
"Do you know that for a fact?"
"I—" She hesitated, eyes narrowing. "Yes. I do." She shook her head sharply. "He's an arrogant, womanizing prick."
Luce's laugh was small but real—her first since Elliot's death hours ago.
"From what I've seen, he's a good kid. I don't think he'd do that. You don't have to like him, but maybe talk to him. Hell, maybe even apologize. You said some rough things in the sub."
Amelia scoffed, looking away.
"I'll think about it. Maybe. But he still pisses me off."
She pulled ahead, muttering under her breath.
Bobo, who had been trailing close enough to hear, fell in beside Luce.
"Sounds like she's in denial."
"Bobo, shut up."
He shrugged.
"Just saying."
The wind pressed against them as they crossed the last stretch of the slope, boots grinding into the gravel floor of the valley. Above, the dunes loomed like silent waves frozen mid-crash.
They reached the bottom of the dune, boots crunching over loose gravel. Mikey's breathing was heavy, his ribs screaming with every step.
"So we're just walking to walk?" he asked, voice sharp. "My ribs are killing me."
"Nah," Bobo said without slowing, "we're heading to HQ."
Mikey blinked.
"HQ?"
"Yep," Luce replied, scanning the ground like she was tracking something invisible.
"And how do we get there? More walking?"
"Just let Luce work, kid," Bobo said, smirking faintly.
Luce crouched low, her fingers dragging across the gravel in short, practiced sweeps. "Come on… where are you…"
Mikey watched, brow furrowed.
"You guys got like, a million of these secret hidey-holes? Is that a Defector thing or—"
"Stop talking," Amelia cut in flatly, brushing past him toward Luce.
"Fine, geez. God forbid a guy asks questions." He mumbled under his breath, "Bitch."
Luce froze mid-search, her hand pressed against a patch of earth. A slow smile tugged at her mouth.
"There we are."
She gripped a broad rock, slid it aside with a grind of stone, and revealed a dark hole with a ladder leading straight down.
Amelia didn't hesitate—she was the first to drop in. Then Ryosuke, then Bobo. Mikey stepped to the opening, the gravel slipping under his boots. He placed a hand on the ladder and began his descent. Luce followed last, sliding the rock back into place with a heavy scrape, sealing them in. Mikey was directly below her.
Mikey kept his eyes forward, but temptation clawed at him.
Why does Luce always put me in these situations?
He glanced up, catching a perfect, dangerous view.
Succubus.
The air grew cooler as they climbed down, the sound of their boots echoing against stone. Finally, his feet hit solid ground.
He looked up—and froze.
It was like stepping into another century. The tunnel stretched wide, the ceiling ribbed with ancient timber supports blackened by time. Dim yellow bulbs hung from dangling wires, their weak glow casting restless shadows along the rock walls. The air smelled of dust, oil, and something faintly metallic—old blood, maybe.
An abandoned underground railroad spread out before him. Twin steel tracks ran in either direction until they vanished into darkness. The space felt vast, yet claustrophobic—like a sleeping giant's throat.
"What the…" Mikey breathed.
The others moved forward like they'd been here a hundred times. Luce strode to the front of an old, stubby train coated in grime, its faded paint scratched and scarred. She climbed into the cab and pressed a button; the doors hissed open with a tired gasp.
They boarded one by one. Mikey followed last, still staring out the window as the doors sealed shut. With a screech of metal and a lurch, the train began to move, wheels clattering over the ancient rails.
The tunnel lights blurred into streaks of gold. Mikey sat back, silent, the hum of the engine settling in his bones.
This was the world of the Defectors. And for the first time, he wasn't just hearing about it—he was inside it.