Aria stopped as they came over the last dune. The ocean stretched out before her, alive, spreading to the end of everything. She heard a million waves, each one distinct, ferocious, but together a chorus that was serene and grander than anything she’d ever known. She’d seen the ocean plenty of times in the Realms, but it hadn’t prepared her for the real thing.
“If beauty had a sound, this would be it.”
“I knew it would help,” Roar said, his smile a white flash in the darkness. “Auds say the sea holds every sound that’s ever been heard. All you have to do is listen.”
“I didn’t know that.” She closed her eyes, letting the sound wash over her, and listened for her mother’s voice. Where were Lumina’s calm assurances that patience and logic would solve any problem? She didn’t hear them, but she believed they were there. Aria glanced at Roar, pushing away the grief. “See? You haven’t taught me everything.”
“True,” Roar said. “I can’t run the risk of boring you.”
They walked closer to the water together. Then Roar sat, leaning back on his elbows. “So what’s with the act?”
Aria sat next to him. “It’s for the best,” she said, digging her fingers into the sand. The top layer still held the day’s warmth, but beneath it was cool and damp. She drizzled it over Roar’s knee. “You heard how they hate me. Imagine if they knew Perry and I were together.” She shook her head. “I don’t know.”
“What don’t you know?” Roar smiled like he was about to tease her. The moment felt utterly familiar, though they’d never been here before. How many times had they talked about Perry and Liv over the winter?
Aria poured another handful of sand on his knee, listening to the delicate drizzle beneath the crash of the surf. “It was my idea. It’s the safest way, but it’s strange pretending to be something different. It’s like there’s a glass wall between us. Like I can’t touch him or … reach him. I don’t like the way it feels.”
Roar wiggled his knee, upsetting her sand pile. “Does his voice still sound like smoke and fire?”
Aria rolled her eyes. “I don’t know why I told you that.”
He tipped his head to the side in a gesture that was pure Perry, putting a hand over his heart, which wasn’t. “Aria, your scent … it’s like a blooming flower.” He modulated his voice perfectly to sound like Perry’s deep drawl. “Come here, my sweet rose.”
Aria jabbed him in the shoulder, which only made him laugh. “It’s violet. And you’re going to pay when I meet Liv.”
Roar’s smile vanished. He ran a hand over his dark hair and sat up, growing quiet as he stared at the breaking waves.
“Still no word?” she asked quietly. When Perry’s sister had disappeared last spring, she’d left Roar heartbroken.
He shook his head. “No word.”
Aria sat up, brushing off her hands. “There will be soon. She’ll turn up.” She wished she hadn’t mentioned Liv. Roar had to feel her absence more than ever here, where they’d both grown up.
She looked across the ocean. Deep in the distance, clouds pulsed with glaring light. Aether funnels were striking. Aria couldn’t imagine being out there. Perry had told her once that rogue storms were always a danger at sea. She didn’t know how the Tides’ fishermen found the courage to go out every day.
“You know, glass is pretty easy to break, Aria.” Roar was watching her, his gaze thoughtful.
“You’re right.” How could she complain? She had it so much easier than he did. At least she and Perry were in the same place. “You’ve convinced me. I’m going to break the glass, Roar. Next chance I get.”
“Good. Shatter it.”
“I will. And you will too, when we find Liv.” She waited for him to agree—wanted him to—but Roar changed the subject.
“Does Hess know you’ve come here?”
“No,” she said. She slipped the Smarteye from a small pocket in the lining of her leather satchel. “But I need to contact him.” She should’ve done it yesterday, their planned meeting day, but she hadn’t found a chance on her journey to the Tides. “I’ll do it now.”
The smooth patch, clear as a water droplet and nearly as supple, struck her as something from another world after all the sun-bleached and wind-frayed edges of the compound. It was from another world—hers. She’d worn the device all her life without so much as a thought. All Dwellers did. It was how they moved through the Realms. She’d only recently begun to dread it. She had Consul Hess to thank for that.
Aria brought the Smarteye up, laying it over her left eye. The device suctioned to the skin around her eye socket, the pressure firm and familiar, and then the biotech plastic at the center softened, turning to liquid. She blinked a few times, adjusting to seeing through the clear interface. Red letters appeared, floating against the ocean, as the Eye powered on.
WELCOME TO THE REALMS! BETTER THAN REAL!
They faded out, and then AUTHENTICATING appeared.
She turned her head, watching the letters track with her movement.
ACCEPTED flickered up, and a familiar prickling sensation spread across her scalp and down her spine. Only one generic icon, labeled HESS, hovered against the darkness. When she’d had her own Smarteye, the screen had been filled with icons for her favorite Realms, news crawls, and messages from her friends. But Hess had programmed this Eye to only reach him.
“Are you in?” Roar asked.
“I’m in.”
He lay down, resting his head on his arm. “Wake me up when you’re back.” To him, she’d appear to be sitting quietly on the beach. He’d have no window into the Realms the Smarteye opened to her.
“I’m still here, you know.”
Roar closed his eyes. “No, you’re not. Not really.”
With a deliberate thought, she selected the icon, letting Hess know she was there. Moments later she fractioned, her consciousness splitting, dividing. The feeling was jarring but painless—like waking up suddenly in a strange place. In an instant she existed in two places at once: on the beach with Roar, and in the virtual construct of the Realm Hess had brought her to. She shifted her focus to the Realm and went still, momentarily dazzled by the brightness. Then she looked around, adjusting to a world turned pink.
Cherry trees spread around her in every direction. Blossoms loaded down their branches and coated the ground like a pink dusting of snow. An aimless, everywhere rustle reached her ears, and then a shower of petals drifted down in a rosy blizzard.
She found it breathtaking until she noticed the symmetry of the branches and the perfect spacing of the trees. She realized she hadn’t heard the petals fall, or the creak of branches. The breeze held an empty, one-note sound. Far too aggressive for what she knew was right. Better than Real, they said of the Realms. She’d thought so too, once. For years she’d cruised spaces like this from within the safety of Reverie’s walls, not knowing any better. Not knowing that nothing was better than real.
Or worse, she thought, suddenly remembering Paisley. Her best friend had only seen the terrible parts of the real world. Fire. Pain. Violence. Aria still couldn’t believe she was gone. Almost all of her memories of Paisley included Paisley’s older brother, too. It had always been the three of them.
How was Caleb doing in Reverie? Was he still cruising to the art Realms? Had he moved on? She swallowed against the tight feeling in her throat, missing him. Missing her other friends, Rune and Pixie, and how light life used to be. Underwater concerts and parties in the clouds. Ridiculous Realms like Dinosaur Laser Tag and Cloud Surfing and Date a Greek God. Her life had changed so much. Now, when she slept, she kept her knives within reach.
Aria looked up, and her breath caught. Through the pink branches she saw a light blue sky with no veins of Aether, no coating of glowing clouds. That had been the sky three hundred years ago, before the Unity. Before a massive solar flare had corrupted the Earth’s magnetosphere, opening the door to cosmic storms. To an alien atmosphere that was unimaginably devastating. Aether. This blue sky was what she pictured over the Still Blue—bright and open and calm.