“Since we’re in your mind and all,” I asked, “can’t you just imagine being somewhere and get there?”

  “Do you have any idea where we’re going? Nope, have to do this right. We’re rowing.”

  “And where are we rowing to? It’s not like there’s a map.”

  “Oh, but there is!” She grinned the biggest grin I’d ever seen on her face. “Think about the boat, Zander.”

  I gave her a confused look. So did the ogvoks. Not that they were invited.

  “I’ve never seen it before,” she continued. “So why would my mind create this particular boat? Why not make a hoveryacht while I was at it? It had to be past me looking out for now me. I’m guessing it will take us where we need to go.”

  I nodded. “Wonderful. It’s nice of your brain to welcome us with open arms.”

  “Well, it’s definitely welcoming me with open arms. But you? You’re practically parasitic. There’s probably more than a few ways this could go wrong.”

  “Veesh, thanks a lot for that. I should just go to my own brain, then.”

  I exhaled salty breath. The sooner we sorted her brain, the sooner we could get to mine. A shiver of trepidation ran through me. Would I be happy with what I found? The thought was quickly washed away when another wave hit me square in the face.

  “Don’t think so hard,” she snapped, conjuring a second oar. “Do you have any idea how taxing it is to have your individual thoughts running through my head? Just try not to think about anything. I bet my subconscious mind is going to be a whole lot weirder once we get there.”

  “This isn’t your subconscious?” I scoffed. “What the void is the point, Blayde?”

  “Calm down,” she said through gritted teeth. “Don’t draw any more attention to yourself. Besides, do you see anything of interest around here? We’re in some kind of liminal space for the moment.”

  “When will we reach the subconscious?”

  “We’ll know when we get there—I hope.”

  I tried to put her out of my mind as we rowed. I let her steer. This was her mind; she should know the way around it, liminal space or not. The silence bred introspection, which meant spinning Sidera and Nimien over and over in my head. My non-daughter and undead protégé with a penchant for revenge. I had seen him before and trusted him over and over again apparently, spilling my burdens to him every time they got too heavy. Over and over again, I had come here, to Nimien, seeking relief. A cycle of pain and unburdening.

  Worse, someone had built the labyrinth around him. Punishing him for not only what he’d done to us, but also what he had done to others. People like Sally. Someone other than me wanted to stop Nimien. Like an all-you-can-eat buffet, it was a lot to digest.

  Eyes looked up at me from either side of the boat, shimmering underwater, and it hit me that I was thinking too hard, too deep. Blayde’s mind was fighting back. Waves rippled on the ocean’s surface, rearing and ready to strike.

  “Land, ho!” Blayde cried, thankfully bringing my attention back to the bloody boat.

  Sand dunes with oddly familiar faces stared at us from the beach, black glass sand waiting to suck up our footsteps. The ogvoks went about deconstructing the boat for parts the second we’d left it, enthusiastically twisting the faded wood into office furniture.

  “Where to now?” I asked as the completed desk vanished beneath the waves. “It’s your brain. Shouldn’t you know the way around?”

  Blayde shrugged. “If our time at The Hill taught us anything, it’s that I have absolutely no idea what’s going on up here.” She rapped a knuckle on her temple, and I braced myself, half expecting the whole island to shake. “Come on. We could have miles to go.”

  Above the ridge sat a house-sized bird, perched on the branch of a charred failure of a tree. Its crimson feathers existed in patches, leaving pale skin exposed. While it was looking right at us, the cloudy eyes didn’t seem to know we were here.

  “Ah, maybe this is a clue,” said Blayde. “My good mental bird, how are you? Are you a signpost? Or maybe a repressed emotion?”

  It gave a small cough, fell to the ground, and died.

  “This is either a sign of tremendously healthy coping mechanisms,” I said, watching the corpse turn to ash and blow away on a gentle wind, “or quite the opposite.”

  A small egg rose from the ground, cracked open, and out hopped a chirping, healthy chick.

  “This is like a dream I once had,” said Blayde, cringing. “Only I think it had more strippers.”

  “You’re thinking of Batalghast’s five hundredth birthday,” I said. “I’m sad to say that wasn’t a dream.”

  “Sad? It was the most fun I’d had in ages!”

  The chick grew, flew to the branch, a beautiful shade of the reddest red, chirping the freshest and purest song I had ever heard, a simple handful of three notes so musical I knew there could be nothing more perfect in the world. Then the feathers fell in places, the bird grew fat, the eyes grew cloudy, and with one loud cough, it fell off its branch and died again.

  “This place is strange,” I muttered as the ashes blew away to reveal another egg.

  Blayde nodded. “My brain is weird. Shall we move on?”

  “Please.”

  We headed toward mountains, impossibly tall peaks that rose high ahead of us, piercing the only clouds in the sky. But Blayde’s subconscious island was littered with junk: a set of Goothian party lights; the tattered remains of what had been a long blue trench coat; a collection of over a hundred rifles barrel-down in the sand, close together like the spikes of a porcupine. A dragon roasted in his armor, the skeleton of a knight beside him.

  I followed her into the tall grass, letting the plants tickle the palms of my hands. Little by little, the sand was completely replaced by grass, and shortly following that the grass became taller and stronger. Soon we were marching through waist-high weeds, which were doing a mighty fine job of hiding any more of the strange shit from us. The mountains grew in the distance. My eyes had been so fixated on them that I tripped over the first body.

  The first of many.

  This was a field of the dead.

  “Just try to walk around them,” said Blayde, nonchalantly. The rising wind told me she was definitely chalant.

  I couldn’t not look down, not if I wanted to get where we were going without falling. There was a face I recognized, staring up at the orange sky with a glassy dead-eyed stare. A warlord from centuries past, three tongues sprawled over his face.

  What a heavy weight, all these corpses she carried around.

  Splat. A low-flying bird collided with my face, cawing.

  “Stop thinking,” said Blayde. “You’re drawing attention!”

  We crossed through a forest and back out the other side, which brought us to the base of the spires of mud. Too steep to climb, we opted instead to walk around them, which then brought us back down to a strange beach—this one had not only a half-sunken Lady Liberty but also an hourglass where the sand rose and disappeared—and up into a canyon between the rock formations.

  As we walked, I began to notice caves along the wall, some at ground level, others higher up, formed there by time itself. Somehow, I knew those were my sister’s memories, though obviously not the ones she was looking for since these were out in the open.

  Here’s hoping my mind has them in a cooler locale. Maybe a spaceport? Not a library.

  A few miles into the narrow canyon, we were stopped by the first thing that seemed to have been placed there with purpose.

  A gate.

  “Told you we’d know,” said Blayde. She reached for the lock, but it didn’t budge. No sign of a pad for a key or biometrics. She frowned, staring at it with the piercing look she reserved for prey when she was feeling feisty. But no amount of staring could burn through that lock.

  “Have you tried imagining the key into existence?” I asked.

  “No, that thought never even occurred to me.” She rolled her eyes. “That’s the first thing I tried, dumbass.”

  A Kroll warrior phased into existence on top of the gate, exactly how Kroll warriors don’t. The whole point of the Krolls was that you should see them coming from miles away. The anticipation would usually make the opposing army die of fright. They made the classic Kroll shatatatata noises, waving their arms around like a windmill. Oh thank Derzan, this place was getting dull.

  “Look away!” shouted Blayde, throwing her hand in front of her eyes. “Hypno-arms!”

  The Kroll leapt into the air, doing a double somersault on their way down, landing in front of us with her arms still spinning. Every patch of skin and hair was covered in the vibrant, mind-bending patterns of their creed, leaving only the eyes exposed, so the only thing I could say for certainty is that they were humanoid and had an expensive silk habit.

  “You were thinking again, weren’t you?” Blayde cursed under her breath.

  “Is this really you?” asked the Kroll, voice muffled by their wrap. They bowed, arms wide. “You have returned to us, Goddess divine.”

  I took a step back. I’d been a deity more than enough times. If Blayde wanted to be worshipped by her own subconscious, that was her prerogative.

  “Um, rise, and all that,” said Blayde, tapping them on their shoulder. “Glad to be here. Who might you be?”

  “I am the gatekeeper,” they said. “Set here by you last time you took form, with strict orders never to open this gate for anyone.”

  Blayde frowned. “Let me guess. Even me?”

  The Kroll nodded. “Unless you best me in battle.”

  I sighed, and Blayde turned just to glare at me. It hadn’t been conscious. We’d just been through this shit more than once, and it was pretty tiring that Blayde’s own mind would pull a fast one on her like that.

  I took a seat on a nearby rock. I used to love this kind of spectacle, but I knew how it went now. It wasn’t exactly a fair fight.

  The Kroll didn’t give two shits about me; their focus was completely on my sister. Blayde took three steps back, putting one leg gently forward in a comfortable battle stance. The Kroll did the same, putting their arms up and wide, a clear sign they were unarmed. Blayde slipped off her coat and tossed it to me, and—the loving and dreadfully bored brother I was—I caught it and folded it on the rock beside me.

  Instantly, twin swords appeared in the Kroll’s hands, which they twirled expertly. Relief washed over me. Maybe this would be over pretty quick.

  “Woo,” I cheered, with as much enthusiasm as I could muster. “Go team!”

  “No rules,” said the Kroll. “Last woman standing enters the gate.”

  “Fun!” said Blayde, calling forth two swords of her own. “I love death matches. Especially since I can’t die and all.”

  “You die, and everything here dies,” said the Kroll. “It is the way of all things.”

  “But then you die. So don’t I win either way?”

  The Kroll put her weapons by her side. “This isn’t how it works! You’re meant to fight me to the death!”

  “You’re sucking the fun out of this,” Blayde huffed. “I guess I won’t get killed then.”

  They nodded, poised, and attacked.

  There was no idle pacing. No sizing each other up, no measuring weaknesses and openings. The Kroll lunged at Blayde, catching her by surprise and nicking her shoulder with the sword. Blayde hissed, dodging out of their way, blood dripping into the gritty sand.

  My heart dropped. For the first time since I would remember—which admittedly might not be as long as I think—she was way out of her depth, her only advantage gone. That was her move, to attack first and force her opponent on the defensive right off the bat. Her move—

  “Blayde!” I called, as realization hit. “You can’t win with swords! The guard has your memories. You can’t—”

  “I got that!” she snapped as she rolled out of the Kroll’s swoop and attempted a trip, though it failed miserably, tripping her instead. It was as if the Kroll could anticipate her every move.

  “Behind you!”

  “Stop helping!”

  Blayde lifted her hands, dipping both swords down onto the ground. The Kroll saw the opening and lunged, but Blayde was ready. She leapt up, springboarding off the two swords, flipping over the Kroll’s head as a wooden staff appeared in her hands. She landed, striking her opponent across the back and shoving them face-first into the ground, the swords melting away into dust as the black-clad woman lost control. Blayde’s foot came down heavy on their chest, pinning them down, the staff hovering an inch above their neck.

  I breathed a sigh of relief. It had been a long time since I’d seen Blayde so evenly matched, and if she’d lost here...

  “Kill me,” the Kroll ordered.

  “No. You have been a worthy opponent. You shall not die today.”

  “Look, all that goddess stuff earlier? Just trying to flatter you. We both know I’m just an image projected into your subconscious. Kill me now, and you get what you came for!”

  “I don’t give a shit. I win, so I get to not kill you. I walked through my murder field. I don’t want to add another corpse to it. Even if you already live rent-free inside my head.”

  “Suit yourself, then,” she snickered.

  She grabbed Blayde’s foot, propelling her off their chest. They grabbed the staff with both hands, thwacking her across her midriff and forcing her to the ground, pinning her under the staff with their entire body weight over her chest.

  Blayde heaved as I darted forward to help her, only to be thrown back by a hand of stone. I pushed myself up, desperate to see the scene, to act, to stop her, but the stranger was already lifting her hand to undo the wrap around her head—

  Now Blayde looked down at Blayde with fury burning from her eyes.

  I should have seen it coming. Who else could guard Blayde’s memories as efficiently as Blayde herself? My heart pounded in my chest, so hard I thought it might break a rib. Could the Blayde from Blayde’s subconscious kill her true self? And if I lost Blayde, here... I would lose myself, too, in more ways than one. I gripped my seat, except that it was a rock, so my fingers scraped against stone, nails tearing.

  “You are weak,” said Other Blayde through gritted teeth, pushed down on her future self’s throat. “Weak. Weak and useless.”

  “Oh my stars, this is exactly what I wanted,” said Blayde. “This is so hot. Quick, let me conjure up a thermal pool—”

  Other Blayde ripped the staff away, gagging.

  “You are worse off without your memories,” she continued, the staff in her hand dissolving into nothing. “Losing them has made you weak. And, dare I say, gross. Thus, you need the memories back. But know this. I hid the memories for a reason. Whatever you get back, you do so at your own risk.”

  “How do I...”

  “For the full ride, just hop into that hole right there.” The gate flew open, and a massive black hole appeared directly behind it. “That will trigger the recall. You may not want to see everything; it’s very long. But you’ll figure out how to travel through it soon enough. It ain’t rocket science. Don’t expect to remember everything at once. It’s been a while, and the memories of boring things like walking somewhere or going to the bathroom are probably gone for good. Pieces of conversation won’t all be there. But that’s no fault of your own. It’s not like you’re in control of your subconscious. Just there for the ride.”

  And with that, Other Blayde zapped out of existence, leaving the two of us in stunned silence in the middle of the dusty canyon.

  Blayde marched right over to the sinkhole and peered down. I joined her, crouching over the edge and staring into the pit. Dark like a black hole, but with none of the pull—except emotionally.

  “So, are we going to do this?” I asked, a little tremor of fear rushing through my veins. This was it. The moment of truth. We would know where we were from, where home was. My hands shook as I stared into the pool. Who would I be when I came out the other side?

  “Only if you’re ready,” she said.

  “You sure you want to do this?”

  She took a deep breath. “No. We locked these memories away for a reason, Zander. What if we can’t handle the truth?”

  “We locked them away because we weren’t strong enough to face them,” I replied. “I don’t know about you, but I’m strong enough now.”

  “Let’s hope so,” she said, taking my hand. “Let’s face our past.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  The Last Place on Earth I’d Want to Be, but then Again This Isn’t Earth

  Sally

  “They’re holding hands!” James clapped her hands to her cheeks. “Is that supposed to be happening?”

  She shot me a smile from across the lab, and I couldn’t help but smile back. Thank the stars for her cheerful optimism. Her running commentary was the only thing keeping me grounded right now. I’m sure if she weren’t here I would either run away or strangle Nimien again and run away after.

  Nimien checked a small screen between the two chairs. Data scrawled down the pixels too fast for me to follow. “There isn’t exactly a handbook for this stuff. I have no idea.”

  I choked on my own saliva. This, coming from the very reason the siblings had lost their past? Nimien deserved everything he got, this labyrinth prison and more. If I could meet the person who built it, I would kiss them with my whole heart.

  He looked over at me, and I stared instead at Zander. Screw you, douchecanoe, he’s the only reason you’re not six feet under right now.

  The door shut. He had left.

  “So, he’s the guy?” asked James, putting her hands on her hips as she stepped up on the raised platform to examine Blayde. The siblings were still holding hands, but their faces were still the blank slate they had been when they’d been put under just ten minutes ago.

  “He is,” I replied. “Or was, if you believe what he’s saying. That he’s redeemed or whatever.”

  “And do you?”