If the Early Ones had not destroyed themselves, what would they think of the way the Federation has used their knowledge? Would they shrink away in disgust? Or would they approve? Would they see an echo of themselves in this?

I have a sudden urge to kill him here. To slice out with my own steel wings and cut his throat, end his suffering. Destroy one of Constantine’s Skyhunters before he can become like me, a weapon at the Premier’s beck and call. Everything in me screams to do it. At the door, the Chief Architect watches me quietly. If she’s afraid of what I might be thinking, she doesn’t react.

Then I feel that familiar tug in the back of my mind. Constantine’s presence, ever there. He says nothing. He probably isn’t even paying attention to what my moods are or what I might be doing right now. But it’s all the reminder I need.

I force myself to stand up and return to the Chief Architect’s side. “He looks well,” I sign to her. Beside her, the translator murmurs my answer.

The Architect gives me a practiced smile. “This one will join you someday, Skyhunter,” she replies. “So I’m glad you approve.”

She then turns to open the door, ushering us out. I’m glad she doesn’t see the look of hatred on my face. I follow her out with my hands balled into fists.

As I go through my weekly inspection of the Ghosts’ glass chambers and the Chief Architect’s report on her experiments’ progress, I feel the weight of my mother’s words shift. The translator following us doesn’t once glance up at me. She never errs in her steps around the Architect. The Ghosts in their chambers are all in various stages of their transformations. The ones that have completely changed are listless, standing at attention as if ready to be led out obediently in chains. A few other lab workers and engineers bow their heads at us as we pass by.

Nothing seems amiss. There are no clues that anyone here might have ulterior motives.

What am I searching for? What had my mother wanted me to find? Or—what if the things my mother had heard really were just rumors? What if she is mistaken after all? What if this, too, is another cruel game that Constantine has set up for me, giving me false hope that there might be some rebellion in the works—sending me on a desperate goose chase by using my mother as a hapless pawn?

The thought that this last shred of hope is nothing but a ruse is almost too much for me to bear. I’ve seen my friends jailed. I’ve had to beg my mother to stay alive. Is this the rest of my life that I have to look forward to? Watching helplessly as my loved ones suffer?

And then, just as my thoughts continue to spiral, I notice something about the Chief Architect as she turns in front of me. She steps under a bright sconce against the wall, and the shadows behind her head momentarily clear right as I catch a glimpse.