I touch my fingers to the dark crown of braids on my head, acutely aware I look nothing like myself. I have the face of a stranger. The face of a pretender.

But the worst part is that I feel like one—and not just around the Residents.

The Colony wants every single one of them removed from Infinity for good, the same way the Residents want humans gone. But I’m not sure I want that. I’m not sure destroying something we don’t understand is how we prove we deserve to survive.

I already know I’m being dishonest to the Residents for posing as one of them. But am I being dishonest to the Colony for not telling them how I really feel? Am I being dishonest to myself?

How can I ever be a Hero if everything about me is a lie?

You don’t have to be a Hero. You just have to do what you can to help, I tell myself, shutting my eyes to my own reflection.

I turn back to Ahmet. “I should be back before sundown.” If I’m not, then something will have gone terribly wrong.

“May the stars watch over you.” With a weak smile, he adds, “Because the saints abandoned us long ago.”

Cherry blossoms line the streets, and I follow the fragrant path to the outskirts of the Spring District. A few Residents stroll up and down the road, but most are tucked away in their homes. I can see the crowds through the oversized windows, full of laughter and drink, still carrying on with their parties from the night before.

I wonder if they get bored doing the same thing day after day, and what will happen if one day being human isn’t enough for them.

When I cross the border, the fresh spring air vanishes, replaced by something fainter—like a crisp winter wood, but without the change in temperature.

It’s a long walk to the palace, through forests and hedge mazes and tree tunnels, but I don’t let my guard down even for a moment. I can’t trust anyone here; Annika warned me even the forests whisper.

I thought it was a figure of speech until Shura told me she’s heard the whispers before too, in Famine.

I’d be lying if I said the thought of rogue whispering doesn’t scare me. It’s not like ghosts exist in Infinity. If anything, we are the ghosts. So if it can’t be supernatural, it means the whispers are really coming from somewhere. Someone.

Some people say the whispers only happen when we’re being watched.

I shudder, thinking of Queen Ophelia sitting on her throne somewhere in the Capital, her black eyes seeing everything. I’m afraid to touch my wrist. Afraid I might inadvertently call on her again.

For the sake of the Colony, I hope we never hear the whispers in Victory.