It’s a stark contrast to what I’m doing, which is basically trudging through the tunnels like a polar bear in a coal mine.

We pass two veilers, both of them with their eyes shut tight like they’re in a meditative trance. At first my nerves waver, and I worry they’re going to yell at me to turn back. But their concentration is unbreakable.

“They veil the entrance,” Shura whispers when we move past them. She motions over her shoulder. “To anyone who doesn’t belong in the Colony, this tunnel doesn’t exist.”

I can’t imagine having that kind of mental strength. I can barely struggle through an algebraic equation without losing interest. Guarding an entire entrance? It’s so much responsibility.

“Is it just the two of them? All the time?” I ask, almost sorry for them.

Shura makes a face. “We’re not monsters, Nami. There’s a watch schedule.” And then a smirk. “Maybe you can join them one day. It’s no small job being the Colony’s first line of defense.”

“I don’t know” is all I say. It’s all I have a chance to say. Because up ahead is a distraction so powerful I almost forget where I am. What’s happened to me.

Sunlight.

We step through the tunnel opening, and I feel the rush of air move through my hair. I feel it lifting me—lifting my soul—and the weight of everything that’s happened fades.

I close my eyes.

The waves beat against the pier in a steady rhythm. Water splashes against the weathered deck, leaving the air textured in salt spray. I can taste the sea, and for a moment I forget it isn’t real. Not the sea, or the wind, or the wooden beams beneath us.

It’s bittersweet. Because this is Infinity, and nothing is real.

Not even me. Not anymore.

Shura holds her palm toward the water, letting her fingers dance against the breeze. “I can picture it sometimes—Kaliningrad in the summer: the smell of smoked fish and pine trees and the Baltic Sea.” She hums. “I hated it when I was alive, but I sure miss it now.”

Mom’s boat flashes in my mind, a pair of crab traps sitting at her feet. The rubbery smell of that orange life vest I hated wearing. The glare of the hot sun matching the glare in Mom’s eyes every time I’d mention she was complicit in the mass murder of crab families.

What I would give for one more day on that boat with Mom.

“I think I know what you mean,” I say with a small voice.

Shura’s hand falls back to her side. “At least we have our memories.”