HAVEN ✓

Forty-Seven

I can hardly believe we did it. We actually found a cure. The anti-vaccine scientists have been working on for decades is finally successful, and the mission Summus Aspens sent us on is now fulfilled.

But there's a nagging thought intruding within the victory—we have triumphed, but at what cost?

A crowd stands before me, anxious to get a glimpse of our victory—proof that the Skinwalkers aren't invincible. I search the sea of faces, amazed. This many people live in Perseca? Sure, I've only been here for a few days, but I've hardly seen anyone. I suppose that's what I get for keeping odd hours. Luke and I have been here for mere days, but I haven't interacted with many people outside the laboratory.

Their chatter leaves the night anything but quiet, the excited energy palpable. I wipe my sweaty palms on my pants as strangers gather around us.

"Rhett!" A man shouts. It's the young man who came running to wake up Luke and I earlier. He dashes to my brother and wraps his arms around his neck in a crushing hug. I peer at my brother over his shoulder. His eyes are shut in fierce relief.

Miles leans down to nudge my shoulder. "Know any eligible young ladies who could give me a welcome like that?" With a wink, he turns and greets two elderly ladies who are unabashedly checking out my friend.

I roll my eyes, but nervous energy still buzzes in my stomach. There is a hurricane of emotions inside me. Yes, I'm horrified that I've killed a dozen Skinwalkers, and I feel claustrophobic in this swell of people, but I am also happy for an entirely other reason. I've given the Outlanders hope.

I may not have the home I once knew, and I will never be able to view Herald's structured society as anything other than the offspring of the Skinwalker affliction, but I can't deny that Herald was once a place where I belonged. After Rhett went missing, I harbored no hope in my heart. Then when Markee was taken, I felt the loss all over again. I know what it's like to have such little drive—when you've misplaced any hope you once had and are merely surviving. But even hope so tiny as a mustard seed can inspire change. Hope is what drove me to the Outlands, and I have now found a place that was carved out just for me. My place in the world is in the Outlands, and I want to give that same gift of hope to anyone who is searching for their will to go on, just as I once had.

I look around at the faces hungry for change. There are wary folks with lined faces, and young children who know enough of the Skinwalkers to fear what is on the other side of that fence. The similitude hits me like a sack of flour, suffocating me with its truth. We have both experienced hiding behind our own walls under different circumstances, but fear is all the same. It does not discriminate.

The crowd presses in, and I feel my lungs burn as I fidget with the hem of my ill-fitting shirt.

"Hey," Luke says, pressing a hand to the small of my back as if he can sense my distress. He leans down to murmur in my ear. "Want to get out of here?"

With a weak smile, I nod. I turn to find Rhett and the young man from before nose-to-nose in a serious conversation. My eyes trail down to their joined hands and I can't help but smile a bit wider.

A handful of minutes later, we end up in the dining hall. I have never been here when the long tables are filled with people, but this time I know why. Everyone is making a spectacle out of the dead Skinwalkers, which leaves just me and Luke in the echoing space.

I push the image of those twisted faces out of my mind before I lose my appetite. It's been more than half a day since I've eaten anything, and a splitting headache is pummeling my skull.

Luke and I make our way to the back kitchens. The stainless steel counters and appliances remind me too much of the lab, and I almost spin around and walk right back out, but then Luke opens a door and pulls out a whole loaf of bread. It is perfectly bronzed and round, most likely baked this morning. I salivate at the yeasty aroma.