Isaac knew it wasn’t magic. He’d been taught his history. He knew of such things, machines defying gravity—balloons, planes, helicopters, bergs, spacecraft. But never would he have guessed as a child that someday he might see one, himself. Or a dozen, as he saw now, of varying sizes. Most were wide, round, metallic, maybe the size of two or three yurts back home smashed together. A couple of them were much larger than the others.

“Minho?” Old Man Frypan asked. “Timon? Either one of you know anything about this?”

The cacophonous noise had grown, gradually until it seemed like it had been there all along, the roar of the river times a thousand. The machines were almost on them, impossible slabs of metal shooting through the sky. Isaac, in a sudden and inexplicable fit of bravery, ran up to the man named Minho and grabbed him by the shoulder, forced him to turn and face him.

“What are they?’ Isaac yelled. “What’s happening?”

Minho met his eyes, stunned, lost. He didn’t answer the question but he did respond, saying the same thing twice, barely loud enough to be heard.

“They knew all along. They knew all along.”

CHAPTER TWELVE

Machines of the Earth

They hadn’t seen the real sun even though it had risen hours ago—and the fake one barely gave any light at the moment. She sat on a chair and her pilgrims sat on the ground, their heads bowed. Above them, the great stone ceiling of the cavern hung like heavy clouds—but never moving, always thick and dark, always reminding you that a single crack of nature and the world might come tumbling down and crush you.

“Have you seen enough?” she asked, her voice sharply echoing amongst the remnants of the Maze despite how quietly she’d spoken. All around them, monoliths of broken rock and pillars of shattered cement lay scattered like the building blocks of a huge child. Her newest servants—as devout as the Evolutionary Guard—had barely been able to keep their eyes inside their sockets with all the gaping they’d done during the walk to the Glade of old.

Whispers of “Yes, Goddess” and “Yes, oh Holy One” skittered through the air like the ragged footsteps of mice. Even Mannus, her horned friend who was so vital to the upcoming days’ plans, tried to act the part, although he tossed a quick roll of the eyes when possible.

Before them, directly at her back, lay the wide-open Box, its rusted metal doors slid into the recessions hidden under the stone floor. The revealed hole was dark and deep, not showing the slightest hint of what lay below. It didn’t matter. Every person on the ground at her feet knew that it was the greatest of blasphemies to open the Box. They had been taught their entire lives that it was to be sealed forever.