But I’m here now because I need to learn about this world, even if it means venturing into the unknown. Humans may not be safe in Victory, but if I can’t see the danger for myself, I’ll never fully understand what I’m protecting myself from. I need to know what the rules are and where the lines are, so I can stay inside them. So I don’t make any more mistakes.

So I can be safe, if there’s even such a thing anymore.

I follow Shura across the narrow pier until the heathered hillside softens into a trickle of cottages built into the stone cliffs. Bottled lanterns wrapped in fishing net hang beside the doorways, and collections of broken seashells are strung together like bunting. Clouds of smoke appear from the chimney tops, filling my nostrils with the smell of burning wood.

It reminds me of camping with my parents and Mei, the four of us huddled around a fire. Mom and Dad would toast the cheesy bread, while Mei and I would slowly work our way through an entire bag of marshmallows. And afterward we’d lie outside, tracing constellations with our fingers and drinking way too much cream soda.

The nostalgia ripples through me, the force so powerful it takes all my strength to keep from stumbling forward.

“They’ll get easier with time.” Shura’s voice is a low murmur because the two of us are settled within her veil and can’t risk being overheard. Her eyes catch mine for a moment. “Your memories, I mean.”

I swallow, fighting the dryness in my mouth. “I didn’t think dying would hurt this much. I thought we’d just… I don’t know…”

“Forget?” Shura’s smile is mostly in her eyes. “That would be so much easier, wouldn’t it? To not have to remember all the awful things we did to other people. All the awful things they did to us.” She looks ahead. “Death doesn’t rid of us of our feelings. It just stops us from changing the narrative.”

When we reach the last house, we turn up a set of crooked stone steps and find ourselves on a dirt path winding through lush, green hills.

“Is it normally this quiet?” I ask in a low voice. We haven’t seen a single person since we left the Colony. And despite the smoke pouring through the chimneys, there didn’t appear to be anyone in the village.

“It’s Market Day,” Shura says flatly. “Nobody misses Market Day.”

When the path meets the main road, I hear the clatter of wooden carts and footsteps. We walk toward one of several archways carved into the city’s outer wall and spot the edge of the crowd.

I lift my chin and focus, letting myself trust the veil completely.