AFTER LEARNING OF my knowledge, my presence was suddenly desired at every Subversive meeting. Triven and I were constantly relieved of our work duties, were called away from meals and still, I felt we were getting nowhere.
This meeting in particular, seemed to be lasting forever. The balls of my feet had begun to ache and tolerances had begun to wear thin. While half of the room wanted access to The Sanctuary, the other half sought to shut down Tartarus first.
"Take down the leaders and we take down the Tribes." The bald man— whose name I had learned was Willets— spoke as he rubbed his temple in irritation.
I shook my head, for what felt like the thousandth time. "That’s the problem with leaders, someone is always waiting to take their place. If we open up that door, the next generation will not be outdone by their predecessors. They're hungrier and their ambitions will prove more dangerous than anything we have witnessed so far."
“She’s right. Cutting off its limbs won’t kill the city. The Tribes are just pawns, we have to go for the heart. We have to stop The Sanctuary.” Arden shouted over the others.
“And we are just supposed to trust your words, that The Sanctuary is actually worse than the Tribes?” Maddox’s words rung out over the crowd, “None of us have ever seen what’s inside The Wall. How are we to trust you’re not lying to us?”
As much as I hated him, his words were valid. Even I couldn’t remember much from my days within The Wall, but the few memories I had were better than any I had outside of them.
Willets nodded in agreement. “The Sanctuary is supposed to be a utopia. It is supposed to be a safe place.”
I coughed out a sarcastic laugh. “Utopias are not real, human nature sees to that.”
Willets’ face reddened but several others nodded in agreement.
“But it still has to be better than this,” Willets motioned to Archer’s missing hand. “It has to be less evil than this.”
When Triven finally found his voice for the first time in our meeting, it was barely a whisper. But as he refused to shout, everyone else quieted to hear him. “There is no good or evil here, it all depends on what side you're standing. Nor is it about wrong or right, it's about surviving. And right now we are barely doing that. If we are wrong about The Sanctuary, then is that not the place you want to be? If we are moving toward The Sanctuary— be it to destroy it or join it— at least we are still moving in the right direction for both sides.”
There was a murmur of agreement. It amazed me how easily Triven could command the attention of the room. Not only could he command their rapt attention, but they were agreeing with him as well. This boy, maybe a few years older than myself, already showed the signs of being a natural leader. The most curious part was that he had no clue.
Archer spoke, showing her support. “We have never had the numbers, nor the resources to infiltrate The Sanctuary before now. I agree with Triven. Whatever your personal motives are— escaping this city or seeking revenge— our goal is to get into The Sanctuary.” She paused before looking at me. “And with our most recent addition, we may actually stand a chance at that goal.”
As everyone fell into agreement, the intensity of the meeting passed. People were finalizing plans for our expedition to the Ravagers’ warehouse, but I wasn’t listening anymore. After Archer spoke, I began to wonder what side I stood on. Did I want to escape back into the city I once called home or did I want revenge for my parents? Was there even revenge for me to seek there?
My forehead creased as I wished I could remember more from my life before their deaths, but there was nothing. Something must have driven my parents to leave, but what? For years I had trusted so blindly that they had left for a good reason, but as I grew older that was becoming harder and harder to believe. I had seen too many horrible things here to imagine worse. When I was ten, I never questioned my parents’ reasons or wondered what kind of people they were. To me, they were perfect—but look at the way Mouse looked at me now. Her innocent eyes saw nothing of the terrible, hardened person I knew I was inside. Her jaded perception, now made me question my own.
What if my parents weren’t the saints I had made them out to be? What if Arstid’s accusations were true and they had led all those people to slaughter?
I cursed myself for thinking it.
So was I escaping or avenging? Honestly, I wasn’t sure. Maybe I just wanted to see it all burn.
New World Rising Page 15
