“Can’t you just make more?” I look around at the mismatched city. “Isn’t that how you built the Colony?”

“We haven’t quite grasped creating something from nothing,” Ahmet says gently. “But some of us have learned to manipulate.” He moves his hand toward the feather, and it gives a shudder before breaking apart into tiny pixels, contorting and twisting until it’s no longer a feather at all.

It’s a dagger.

If Ahmet can make a weapon this easily, what are the Residents capable of?

I reach out slowly and close my fingers around the handle. I’m surprised how natural it feels, wedged against my palm like it belongs there. When I tilt the blade, the silver gleam flickers and I catch my reflection. My eyes look like they belong to a ghost—dark and sad and destined to be a killer.

I shudder.

“It’s still not quite finished.” Ahmet takes a step toward me and reaches for the dagger, pressing his thumb to the metal. “See? Blunt. Because the details are much harder to get right. They take more out of a person.” He looks over at Gil. “Whatever you manage to find will be helpful. But please be careful.”

“I always am,” Gil says with a nod, moving toward the arena stairs.

Ahmet places the blunt knife back on the table, and I stand with my thoughts for a moment, fiddling with the material on my sleeve. The image of Theo standing in the red desert, facing off against two enemy ships, was the epitome of raw power. But no matter how hard I try, I can’t see myself in the same position. I’m not a fighter. I don’t want to hurt anyone.

But I also don’t want anyone to hurt me.

Maybe this world would be less daunting if I at least knew how to defend myself.

I look between Ahmet and the others. “Is a weapon enough to stop them?”

“It’s enough to slow them down,” he clarifies, “but only with the right training. Residents are more resilient than humans; they have a firmer grasp on their consciousness, which makes them stronger by default. But being able to put up a fight could mean the difference between escape or capture.”

I picture the city I saw on the hologram—the intricacies of a world created by a single queen. Maybe it’s rude to share my reservations, but I can’t help it. I’m afraid, and I want someone to tell me things will get better. That we’ll be okay. And that the future isn’t as bleak as it seems. “How can we possibly win against someone who’s mastered this world better than humans have?”