‍ ‍“Are you ready, Arielle? The fire will ignite soon, and truth will be revealed.”

“Beware, Arielle. Beware!”

Arielle’s eyes snapped open.

Am I ready for what?
Beware? Beware of what?

She lay there, reflecting on the voice that had just spoken to her. It was the same voice she had heard in her nightmare.

However, this time it wasn’t as frightening. It sounded desperate—like it was trying to warn her about something.

Where is this voice coming from?
Am I going crazy?

“Where am I?” she whispered.

The frenzied mob had swept her away—but to where? Now she stood alone in the middle of the street, unsure how she had gotten there. As she walked forward, her surroundings slowly came into focus. The numerous food carts and empty intersections told her exactly where she was.

The central square.

She had never seen it so empty. The food carts stood bare, devoid of activity. No light spilled from the buildings. No people bustled along the sidewalks.

It was utterly desolate.

What am I going to do? she wondered as she paced aimlessly back and forth. I need help.

Who’s left?

Her steps slowed as she approached Ms. Akima’s cart. Peeking behind it, she glanced toward the dark stairwell and found the door to the small room standing open.

Why would Ms. Akima do this? It didn’t make sense.

She turned away quickly, unease crawling up her spine. Then the guilt came crashing down on her.

“It’s my fault,” she murmured. “If I hadn’t taken that bandana, none of this would have happened.”

She told me it was dangerous. Why didn’t I listen?

Her mother’s warning echoed in her mind as tears streamed down her cheeks. The weight of the situation pressed heavily on her chest. The bandana had seemed harmless at first—but now its importance was undeniable.

It wasn’t just that it kept appearing.

Ms. Akima had one.
Ruth’s father had one.
She had even seen one with Marisol’s father.

“Marisol!” Arielle shouted.

She spun toward the upper sector. Marisol’s family—surely they can help me.

Breaking into a run, she headed for their house.

As she crossed the checkpoint, a crackling voice blared from the speaker mounted above, freezing her in place.

“Attention, citizens,” the voice declared. “Our father, the Magistrate, has been attacked. Several masked criminals attempted to assassinate him during our second Bastille celebration. While a few rebels escaped, most of these vile criminals were killed on the spot.”

Arielle’s heart pounded.

“This message is to those who managed to flee: know that we will find you. You will pay for this heinous act against our land. To our citizens—while we conduct this search, you are commanded to remain indoors. Anyone found outside will be apprehended immediately. We have been granted authority to use lethal force if necessary.”

Her breath caught.

“Again, stay in your homes. Though we are stunned by this hateful act, our Bastille celebration will continue tomorrow as planned. Further instruction will follow. Above all else—glory to the Magistrate.”

Arielle turned away, her pulse racing.

Just keep moving.

She dashed down the street. This was serious—far more serious than she had imagined. She had to reach Marisol’s family immediately. She had seen what Le Mort and General Rom were capable of. She couldn’t risk being caught.

“Almost there,” she whispered as she turned onto the last street.

She stopped short.

Several G.I.s carrying torches marched in the distance.

“No—no, no,” she breathed, darting into a nearby alley.

There has to be another way.

Across from her, a narrow, darkened street stretched into shadow. She crept toward it quietly. The unfamiliar path led her between towering buildings she had never seen before.

With each step, panic tightened its grip.

“No… no. Where am I?” she whispered.

Maybe I should turn back.

The thought barely had time to form before a gunshot shattered the silence.

Pain exploded through her arm.

She collapsed to her knees, clutching at the warm blood pouring through her fingers. The realization hit her all at once—she had been shot.

Her mind spiraled.

Who shot me? There were no G.I.s here. Did they follow me?

“Princess.”

The voice behind her made her blood run cold.

She turned slowly.

Vanessa stepped from the shadows, a small gun in her hand. Gia, Rell, and several others emerged beside her, closing in.

“I told you, Dead Eyes,” Vanessa said calmly, “this wasn’t over.”