I bite the edge of my lip. The truth is, I’m scared of what will happen if it is. I’m scared of being the one person who could tip the scales—of being the one who chooses which side wins or loses.

I don’t want to be the one to choose.

“I want a magic button that’s going to make everyone happy and bring Infinity the peace it needs.” I give a weak laugh. “But I’m not sure that exists.”

Gil closes his eyes, exhaling slowly. “No. I don’t think it does.” When they flash open again, he looks at me seriously. “But the Orb can be that for humans. Are you willing to do whatever is necessary to give humans a chance at peace?”

A chance for only one side to win. That’s all that’s on offer.

I decide not to tell him that I’m still hoping Caelan will prove me right. That there still might be another way out of this.

Because Gil doesn’t care. He just wants to know my heart is on the right side.

“I will do whatever it takes to make sure humans aren’t wiped out of this world,” I say. To make sure Mei has an afterlife to come to.

So that one day, hopefully a long time from now, I’ll be able to hug my sister again.

“Good,” he says grimly.

When the forest is clear and the Legion Guards have gone back to the skies, we make our way to the docks, letting the silence surround us like it’s not peace we want at all.

It’s absence.

39

I LEAVE THE TRAINING ROOM out of breath, knuckles tender from hours of punching the sandbag. I’m dressed in loose-fitting clothes, with leather bands wrapped around my forearms to give a small amount of protection. It lessens my bruises; not that anyone can see them beneath my Resident skin, which is permanent these days.

I’m halfway to the elevator when I spot Gil ducking into the North Tunnel, armed to the teeth with knives.

I follow him without hesitating.

By the time I reach the veilers at the mouth of the tunnel, he’s vanished around the corner, likely hidden beneath a veil of his own. But I don’t need to tail him to know where he’s going—he was already generous enough to show me.

I step silently onto the pier, the creaks of every floorboard muffled by the pounding waves. Bottled lanterns light the fishing village up ahead, the clink of seashell chimes singing in the night. Smoke rises through the chimneys, and I glance into one of the salt-stained windows.

Three humans stand inside, seated next to the fire, smiling dreamily with vacant eyes.

I look inside the next house, and find the exact same image, but with five humans instead of three.