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Branded a murderer and forced to flee Nabukko with Keir, Eff has only one chance to stop another Obliviation from erasing everything they have fought to remember. With winter closing in and the mountains all but impassable, their desperate search for the core leads them to an unexpected ally from Eff’s past.
As Eff and Keir venture through labyrinthine caves and frozen forests, and encounter dangerous subterranean creatures, every step uncovers another piece of Nabukko’s greatest secret. The truth stretches far beyond the colony, reaching back to the arrival of the Piscius. But shutting down the core comes at an unimaginable cost, forcing Eff to confront revelations that could rewrite everything she thought she knew about her past, her future, and the people she trusts most.

With time running out, Eff must find her lost ship and the key to ending the Obliviations forever before the planet claims them—permanently. But some truths refuse to stay buried, and the final secrets waiting for her will change not only Nabukko’s fate, but her own.

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Keir’s breath came out in a single, steamy puff that was quickly gobbled up by the icy air. “No way,” he said, his voice firm. “It’s not a good idea.”

I marched behind him, silent.

“We have limited supplies,” he tried. “We can’t risk it.”

I rubbed my hands together, temporarily warming them. The heat faded almost immediately. We were heading southwest after a meandering detour to the southeast. The snow showcased our tracks, making it easy for even a lazy predator to find its prey. 

“A few doses of Nano Cure,” Keir said. “That’s it.”

A purple creature with rubbery wings flew from one black pine tree to another. My eyes tracked the movement across the white landscape. It had snowed for the past two days. At first, I was grateful for the dusting of pure luck obscuring our path across the mountain valley. 

Now, however, the frosty powder mocked me with every step. It slipped inside my boots and brushed against my toes. The snow angled the orange sun’s rays sharply into my eyes, nearly blinding me over the long days spent endlessly plowing further and further into the alien wilderness.

“This is ridiculous,” Keir said, stopping abruptly and turning around to face me, a frown dragging his dark eyebrows into a stern V. His long black hair was pulled into a loose ponytail at the base of his neck, and like me he was swaddled in a tan winter coat, black pants, brown boots, and gloves. The frosty air made his nose red, and it accentuated the two jagged scars on his jaw—mementos of an unsavory childhood.

I crossed my arms and stared him down. “We have little choice. Unless you want another Obliviation? We’d be pulled back to square one. Memories gone and helplessly stuck on this planet.”

Lack of quality sleep, decent food, and a hot shower made me snippy. I’d apologize later—once we figured out what we were going to do. We couldn’t run away forever. Time was running out.

“There’s a high likelihood we’ll die in our attempt to get back up the mountain. Hypothermia, starvation, black lambs or other wild beasts. Take your pick.”

“I won’t be easy, but—”

“Dead is dead, Eff! At least we’ll still be alive if another Obliviation happens.”

“You think I don’t know that?” 

Tiredness crept into his eyes. “The risks outweigh the potential consequences.”

I focused on the black pine needles, unable to face him directly. My voice dropped to just above a whisper. “We’re so close. Everything we’ve done so far—all of our progress—I don’t want to lose it, don’t want to wake up tomorrow or the next day not knowing who anyone is, what the Piscius or Nabukko are. Keir … you won’t recognize me. What if—what if things between us don’t work out next time? You’re just going to let that happen?”

“I’m not letting anything happen,” Keir quipped, his frown morphing into a scowl. “But there’s the unavoidable reality of our situation, Eff. What would you have me do—drag us through meters of snow, black lambs on our tail? No. It’s not going to happen.”

“But we’ll lose everything!”

“No.”

“Keir! Why won’t you at least try—”

“I can’t watch you die, Eff!” Keir spun around. He marched through the snow, leaving me standing between the pines. After a few steps, he sighed and glanced over his shoulder, his rueful eyes locking onto mine. “Isn’t that a good enough reason?”

I walked over to him and placed a gloved hand on his arm. “We’ll forget each other.”

“Better that than death. New memories can be made. People can’t come back from the dead.”

“And what of the camp, and Nahova?”

Keir shook his head. “We’ll figure something out—carve clues in the trees if we have to. We made it this far. We can do it again.”

I knew my eyes betrayed my true thoughts, but I nodded anyway and let my hand drop. 

Keir reached out and lifted my chin with his gloved hand. “Let’s keep heading southwest. We can keep an eye on the mountains, okay? Maybe the winters here are erratic, and we’ll get a snow-free window.”

He was only saying that to placate me, and I knew it, but I didn’t want to argue anymore right now. I nodded again, not trusting my words. Keir leaned in for a quick kiss, and then we were marching through the snow-covered forest once more, thoughts as bleak as the landscape.

***

Early evening approached, dragging hues of terracotta and shale across the sky and down the mountain peaks. The forest was thicker here, and the population of purple-wooded pine variants nearly matched that of their crimson-wooded cousins, bringing a touch more color to the gothic landscape.

After the first night of our escape, Keir and I had traveled a day and a half without stopping for more than a brief respite here and there, hoping the distance between us and Nabukko would be enough. That Nahova wouldn’t send guards to drag us back for crimes we didn’t commit. By the third day, we were exhausted from worry and lack of sleep, and we were nearly frozen from the relentless winter. We’d opted to forgo having a fire whenever we paused to catch a few hours of sleep, and the solar heaters we brought didn’t help my toes stay warm while hiking through a dozen centimeters of snow.

As the sun continued to set, we trudged through a frost-bitten forest, and with every soft compression of ice crystals beneath my boots, I wondered if we’d made the right decision. I worried we’d simply left Gia and the others behind to deal with our mess.

We walked in silence, ears cued to potential threats hidden amongst the trees. So far, we hadn’t encountered more than the stray, unlucky kreeplet or a brave, leathery bird. That was good for now, but our rations were limited. We’d need to find game if we were to survive out here.

As if the strange planet could sense my thoughts, a startled elkat burst through a snowbank and leapt between trees until it disappeared from sight. 

Keir and I froze, waiting for the rest of the herd. Not a second later, at least five more elkats charged through the snowbank, their hooves tossing snow left and right while their thick red whiskers flopped from their jaunt. A few eyed us warily, but they dashed past too quickly for either of us to react, nothing more than receding fuzzy purple blurs as they raced between the noir pines.

Keir and I shared a look, a silent question dancing between us. Should we chase them, try to trap one for food?

After a moment, I shook my head. We could go a little longer without the rations, and the elkats were probably long gone already. And, if I was being honest with myself, I didn’t want to see another dead elkat so soon. Fond sentiments may not be the best food for survival, but my morals could sustain my stomach for a little longer.

Keir nodded, but his eyes trailed after the elkat herd. He probably thought we should go after them. He might be right about that, but I’d already made my decision.

My gaze wandered to the snowbank, now decimated from heavy elkat feet. Beyond the snowbank, the trees seemed to curve and bend over each other, like something large had shoved them all to one side and time had drooped them into a wooden globe, tucked against a large slab of rock. 

I took a few steps toward the strange trees, wondering if it was a trick of the forest. I rested a hand on a nearby crimson pine, eyes narrowing as I tried to make out of the details. Was it some kind of den?

Snow crunched behind me, and I glanced over my shoulder. “Keir, come look at this.”

He frowned. “That’s odd.”

“I thought so. I want to check it out. What do you think?”

Keir quirked his eyes brows in confusion. “Check it out? Eff, it’s right there.”

“What? You don’t see the trees?”

“The trees? No, Eff—look by your hand.”

As soon as my gaze landed on the tree—on the spot directly by my hand—I let out a small gasp and took a step back. There, cut into the bark of the tree, was the letter F with a sharp sign beside it. “What’s that doing here?”

“You’re the expert,” Keir muttered as he stepped closer. He hesitated for a second before pulling out the spectral laser drill. He put the setting on medium and carefully carved an outline of a lion with a crown on its head—the insignia of the Nabukko ship—next to my symbol. “There,” he said, stepping back. “One more clue for us if we get stuck in another Obliviation.”

I grabbed the laser drill from Keir and carefully went over my own symbol, deepening the grooves. I paused and glanced at Keir. “It’s too ambivalent.” My lips quirked and I used the drill to carve two half-moons around our symbols that curved at the top and met at a dip in the middle.

Keir cringed. “That’s tacky.”

I chuckled. “Of course it is, but you must admit the meaning is more straightforward now.”

“A giant heart will do that,” he said with a small laugh. “Should we have used that in the caves as well?”

“Not a bad idea.”

“The walls of Nabukko are bland, now that I think of it. Your lovely artwork would liven them up.”

“Careful,” I said with a grin. “I’ll tell everyone it was your idea.”

“Nah. They’d all know it wasn’t me. My taste is more esoteric.”

“I’d like to see you come up with something better.”

“Stick figures holding hands?”

“Too platonic.”

“Stick figures slag—”

“No. Let’s not go there.”

Keir chuckled. “I guess the tacky heart will have to do then.”

My smile slipped as my gaze landed on the strange trees beyond our symbols. “What do you suppose that is?”

Keir stepped closer, his smile gone. I regretted its absence, but there would be time for more jokes when we were in less peril.

“Doesn’t look like an animal built it,” Keir said. 

“Should we take a closer look?”

“Normally, I’d say no.”

“But, with my symbol close by …”

“Precisely. No coincidences.”

“Could be a warning.”

“Have you ever used it like that?”

“Not that I can remember.”

Keir’s lips pinched together. “The statement of the year.”

“Rude.”

“I try.” Keir sighed. “All right. Let’s get a little closer. But keep quiet, and at the first sign of danger, we leave. Got it?”

“Of course,” I said, unclipping my dagger from my coat. 

Keir increased the setting on his laser drill and unclipped his dagger. We slowly walked toward the curving trees, trying to dampen the sound of snow crunching beneath us. Within minutes, we were a short distance from the side of the small structure.

There was no mistaking it now. Newer trees had grown over and around the structure, but I could make out the original cut logs that formed the four walls. One side of the building was leaning against the rocky face of the mountain. A rough log door stood in the middle of the far wall.

My eyes widened, and I grabbed Keir’s arm. He nodded quickly, his features curved pensively. 

Soft light shone from behind the cracks in the door, and curling out of a small opening at the top of the hut were gentle wisps of smoke, previously obscured by the nearby boulders, ashen trees, and graying sky.

Keir and I traded looks. Should we approach the hut? We were armed, but whoever was inside might also have weapons.

We were standing in the snow, balking at the hidden hut in front of us, when a woman spoke. Her voice wobbled with age. “Are you still skulking out there?” 

I stiffened. There was a shape behind the door. That must be her.

“Would you stop gawking already and come inside?” The old woman harumphed. “The tea’s getting cold.”

***