“We’ll get you patched up as soon as we get back to base,” says the green-eyed stranger. He has curly, toffee-colored hair, big ears, and a wide nose. There’s a pink flush to his cheeks, and he looks distracted by something behind me.

My senses hit me like a sucker punch, and my fingers press against the seat instinctively. Soft black leather. The smell of a new car. Windows blurring with streaks of color that move too fast to make out. And three strangers with all the imperfect telltale signs of being human.

It’s hard to know what’s real anymore.

I force myself up with a stifled groan and turn my head so I can see out the back window.

A trail of sand kicks up behind us like salt spray in an ocean. Except there’s no body of water in sight. The landscape is barren, rocky, and red. I’ve never seen anything so lifeless before. Even the sky is an unnatural shade of gray—like bone against a burnt-crimson horizon.

This is… not what I saw. Where’s the forest? The waterfall?

What happened to the paradise outside those windows?

A girl who looks about fifteen is sitting next to me, smiling with all of her teeth and gums. Her hair is cotton-candy pink and braided at each side. “It’s a shock, isn’t it? They make everything look so pretty from the windows in Orientation, with their clever illusions.”

“Orientation?” I repeat.

She nods. “That’s what we call it. It’s where the Residents trick you into giving your consciousness to them and they decide which court to send you to.” She pulls her face back curiously. “Did they offer you the pill or the fountain?”

I open my mouth, but no sound comes out.

The young man in front of me laughs. “Don’t feel bad. They let me think I was wandering around freely too. I didn’t even get the courtesy of a bedside nurse when I woke up. I just roamed around until I found the fountain, and then a Resident turned up and told me it would make me immortal. Honestly, if I could go back in time and call them on their bullshit right then and there, I’d be a very happy dead man.”

I press my fingers against my head and move them in small circles, trying to massage the confusion away. “I don’t understand. Who are they? And where are you taking me? And why does my leg feel like it has a piece of shrapnel in it?”

The girl tilts her head to look at my wound, which I haven’t had the energy or courage to inspect. She makes a face. “Looks like a suppressor. Yeong will be able to take care of it.” Her smile returns. “I’m Shura, by the way. That’s Theo, and Ahmet’s the one in the driver’s seat.”