Blood, Ink & Fire

by Ashley Mansour

  This final act to be our zenith: the books recovered, our auspicious stars.

  This final act. Final, indeed.

  I take Denmark’s golden rod and aim the fiery tip where it belongs. How ironic that, now, alone and cold, I should once again face the inferno.

  The charge lights up the night. Up above, the stars, distant and mute, threaten to disappear under a sheet of cloud. I position the fire-tipped weapon, holding it aloft, where it will do its good for me.

  Now end, I tell myself. Now let this all be over . . .

  “You’re late.” I turn, facing the familiar voice, grating against me like gravel.

  “I know. It wasn’t easy getting away.”

  “No doubt.” His eyes flit over my body, and that intense revulsion returns.

  I swing the backpack to my front, revealing the nine volumes inside. “Let’s just get this over with.”

  “As you wish,” he snarls. A chemi-taser appears at his side. My grip on the golden rod tightens.

  “We don’t need that. I told you I would obey.”

  But protesting is useless. Scythe smiles like he’s been waiting for this moment, craving it the way I craved the words. Longing for it the way I longed for the books. Needing it the way I needed Ledger.

  “Maybe not, but it’s more fun this way,” he spits at me.

  “I’m not going to resist, not going to fight back. You don’t need to hurt me.”

  “Yes, we do.” Scythe clicks in disapproval. “You’re ours now. And Mr. Cadge has given me enough leeway to take you a little . . . roughly.”

  “So it’s the chemi-taser . . . or?”

  “Or I take you out with a beating. Your choice.”

  I close my eyes. Breathe. Breathe. Unable to move or make a sound, I point to the chemi-taser. He pauses to observe me one last time. “Mmmm, Mr. Cadge will be very pleased. Very pleased indeed.”

  “And why is that?”

  “He says he liked your face the way it was when he saw you, and that I should try not to break it.”

  “Wait!” I shout. “What do you mean, he saw me?”

  My breath halts and my words cease as the chemi-taser lands into my side. I feel the pulse of electrified chemicals coursing through me. You can do this. You can survive one hit. But as the heat intensifies, pumping the drugs steadily through my nervous system, I become uncertain. There is no one around to stop the searing heat, no one to hear me cry out inside the purgatory of my own flesh.

  My body splinters in half and breaks to the ground. I push the backpack just far enough away to keep them safe, to keep the books whole as the pages of me catch fire and sing beneath the flames. I hope the pain will be short-lived. I hope the tide won’t kill me. The stronger the vessel, the calmer the sea . . . I must live to right all of this.

  I have to. Because no matter how much I don’t want it to be true, no matter how much I’d like to rewrite my story from the very beginning, the fact is . . . I can’t. The words have been written, but what I will make of them is still out there, waiting for me.

  I am the very last reader.

  EPILOGUE

  Can I tell you a secret?

  I let him take me, in the end.

  Please don’t be angry. I knew what I was doing when I walked to that statue. I knew when I lifted the golden beacon into the night sky that it would bring him to me, that Scythe would be waiting.

  Please don’t hate me. You know I had to go. Fell would never stop searching for me. They’d never give up. I’ve been here long enough to know that’s true. They never rest. They never rest. Day and night, it’s all the same. Sometimes I think the bioslice is programmed with false sun cycles so that the nights are shorter and we’ll work more.

  I’ve been here over a hundred days now. Plus sixteen hours and twelve minutes, according to Verity. I can’t tell you how I know this, but Cadge is watching me. Even now. He’s got eyes all over this place, and I feel them on me. No instant is my own, not even now as I write this to you.

  But they don’t mind. No, they let me have this tiny moment to myself. It’s ours, you see. I stole it for us. We might be able to live inside these pages for a time. They let me make words, even as they steal them from me. I didn’t want to at first. Then I realized this was all I had left of you, since they took your gift from me. Now it is all I will ever have.

  Every day is spent in the chamber. You won’t know what that means, will you? I’ll tell you. The chamber. It’s where they immerse us. It’s where they extract things from our brains. It’s also where we are infused with Verity. I can’t believe I’m writing that name to you. I can’t believe she’s inside my head again. I thought I’d gotten her out for good. I was wrong. She lives in me like a virus.

  I don’t know where you are, or even if you can hear me, which is the most terrifying thing to put into words, but I have to tell you not to come after me. Don’t try to find me. You won’t. Can’t. I can’t even find myself. They have taken my place marker, stolen it from my arm. So now I don’t know where I am anymore. I’m lost. I don’t want you to get lost, too. I couldn’t stand it if you were lost in Fell like me.

  Where are the volumes? What have they done with them? I am counting seconds until I see them, until I know that they are okay. Perhaps they will let me read them a little. I’m sick with forgetting and remembering all at once. I remember the pages, and the way they felt. But I can’t remember what I was. They say it’s a cure, but for what I don’t know.

  I have to go. I have immersion again before they will let me go to sleep. I will sit in the chamber and do their things. I will drink light. I will inhale with my eyes. I will breathe in their demands and make them part of me. Tomorrow I will write again. Or maybe later. If my live wires are not too fried. If I can still remember some things to tell you . . .

  I wish we hadn’t left each other the way we did. There were no words. Did we need them? Did we ever need them? I don’t even know anymore. There are so many of them now filling my head, then leaving again as if I never had them. I scarcely have room for anything else. They own me.

  Oh, how I wish I had some Forgetsum right about now to let it all go. To forget this place and everything I’ve been forced to see.

  Wait.

  No, I don’t.

  I don’t mean that. Because if there was even a chance that erasing my reality would erase you with it, then I’d rather die. I’d rather drown inside these words than let them take you from me again.

  I understand what a corner is now, you see. A dark, cruel little corner. I am living in one. I don’t want you to end up like me. Trapped. Alone. Afraid.

  I never want that for you, John.

  Never, ever, never.

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  Like so many writers, I began my first book with the quiet hope of one day being published. I felt a little like someone searching for a shooting star in the middle of a brightly lit city. For that star I managed to find and for so much more, I have many to thank.

  Thanks to the readers of The Hundred who willingly accepted my earlier draft of the book and gave me their feedback; your insights have helped shape this story for readers the world over. I’ve learned so much from you and been amazed by your incredible dedication to keeping books alive. #TheHundredRising forever!

  To my Girl Friday Productions crew: thank you for your commitment to this book and going above and beyond to bring it to life. To the team at Upturn: thank you for believing in me and making my dream a reality.

  A heartfelt thank you to Olivia Robinson for lending your artistic talents to the cover and designing the Blood, Ink & Fire logo that so many know and adore. Thanks to my dear friend and fellow book lover, Yi Ling Huang, for being one of my very first readers. To my brilliant friend, Yasmin Arshad: thank you for your unwavering support and your story notes that proved invaluable in crafting this version. A big thanks to Jess Gerrow for being Blood, Ink & Fire’s original champion. I can’t imagine what the journey would have been like had we
not joined forces over that espresso last summer.

  To a few great women of the world: Gloria Steinem, Sheryl Sandberg, Nora Roberts, and my mother. Thank you for being incredible forces of womanhood. You show me what is possible. Your actions and words guide me toward achieving my best.

  Thank you to my family and friends spread far and wide across the globe; you’ve encouraged me, supported me, and cheered me on when the journey felt impossible. You’ve been the strength I needed when I was fresh out of my own. I am who I am today because of you.

  To my partner, with whom I walk each day hand in hand, you make every step feel as exciting as the first. I owe every next step I take to you.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  In mid-2014, Ashley Mansour began a year-long experiment. She overcame her fear of social media, set up an Instagram profile—@ashleymwrites—and began sharing her writing journey (pitfalls and all) with readers and writers online. She discovered a community of amazing people who cared deeply about reading and books—and about the curious story she was writing that featured a world without both of them. One year later, Ashley’s dystopian sci-fi novel for young adults, Blood, Ink & Fire, was complete.

  Before embarking on this writing journey, Ashley wandered through many creative fields. She worked in children’s entertainment, dabbled in voice-over artistry, music writing, and recording. She has traveled all over the world, working in three different countries with big teams, emerging artists, major brands, and interesting start-ups. She lives in Southern California, where she is writing her next novel. Find out more about Ashley and follow her story’s twists and turns at ashleymansour.com.