For the first few heartbeats that we’re airborne my body revolts, desperate for the feel of solid ground as the tiny box jerks and sways. Air curls up my legs and the sensation is entirely wrong—unnatural.

The men chasing us grow smaller, the buildings less imposing as they recede below. I hold my breath, terrified that any movement will cause the balloon to spiral out of control, will split the seams and send us plummeting to a certain death.

“We’re flying!” Elias shouts as if he can’t believe it, the dawn wind ruffling his short hair. He throws his hands out wide in the air like wings and I clutch the edge of our small vessel, waiting for it to tear apart.

But it doesn’t. The balloon continues to rise, the propeller steering us out over the river and away from the Sanctuary, while other balloons climb out of the Dark City—at first only one or two and then more and more. They’re different colors, different sizes, but they all spring into the air, carrying the survivors away from the dead-choked streets.

We did it. My chest feels lighter than air, as if I alone am pulling us into the painted dawn sky.

Chapter XLI

The sun’s just rising over the horizon, the morning wind shifting, pushing us across the river and over the edges of the Dark City. Behind us more Recruiters surge toward the Sanctuary wall but they’re distracted by a group of dingy gray balloons rising on the south end of the island: the Soulers.

I whoop and cheer; Elias and my sister grab for each other, kissing and hugging. We did it! I want to scream at the world. We’re free!

But the Recruiters won’t let us go that easily. They climb the Sanctuary walls and continue to fire their crossbows at us. I hold my breath, watching the bolts go wide or fall short. Every second we’re farther away, every heartbeat we’re drifting out of range.

The balloons careening away from the south end of the Sanctuary aren’t as lucky. A flaming arrow pierces the fabric of one of them, fire racing along the fat-soaked seams and crumbling the material to ash almost instantly.

I avert my eyes but not quickly enough to escape the sight of bodies plummeting to the frozen river below.

And then a loud ripping sound races down my spine—the sound of fabric tearing, splitting apart, and I look up to see a small flap of the material snapping in the wind. It takes a few seconds to lose enough air but suddenly the envelope buckles and we drop, fast. I scream from the shock of it, grabbing for my sister.