Zach cried for a brother he never knew. A brother named Leo. He felt it like a deep pain, as if the world itself was trying to crush from within.

  His breath came in fits and starts. A weakness completely different from what the hunger had caused spread through him then.

  He remembered his brother’s laughter, so young and so full of life. So carefree, and so ignorant of the fate that would befall him.

  He wasn’t my brother! he shouted inwardly. I don’t even know how he looks.

  On that thought, an image of Leo sprang up in his mind as if he were standing right there in the apartment. Leo, with his reddish hair and thin, bony frame that always looked a second away from being blown away by the wind.

  Leo, who’d gone around the Camp defending Oliver with everything in him. Leo, who’d acted more like an older brother than he—than Oliver—ever had. Leo, who’d really been Oliver’s only friend.

  “Are you alright?” Noah asked.

  “I’m fine,” Zach whispered.

  Under the crushing weight of this grief, a whisper was the best he could do.

  “I’m sorry,” Noah said. “For bringing up your brother. That was callous of me. I should’ve known it would... affect you.”

  Hearing that word again, brother, triggered him even more. He remembered his brother’s death vividly. On the same execution platform he’d awoken on. Oliver had been standing there in the crowd, his parents beside him.

  Leo hadn’t survived the shot to the hand. The Head, their grandmother, had shot him straight in the chest.

  A cruel fate, dying at the hands of your own blood, but that was a sin their grandmother had to carry, not him.

  So what was this guilt in his chest? And worse, it wasn’t a perceived guilt. There was absolute certainty attached to the emotion.

  “We’ll have to find some poppy seed tea,” Noah added. “I only had a little, and I used it on the last Dreamer that transmuted.”

  The feelings were fading, the burning emptiness sitting behind his eyes fading into a dim awareness. He wiped his eyes with the back of his hand as he turned to face Noah.

  “Outside, you said something about a ritual to, to get... my connection back. Whatever that means.”

  He suddenly had a deep need to get out of this body, of this world. How strange it was to feel the emotions of someone else this rawly and this painfully.

  He couldn’t do it. Not and stay sane. He didn’t know what connection Noah was speaking about, but that word had interesting connotations.

  Maybe I can find a connection back home.

  “I did—that’s what the tea’s for. We need something that’s strong enough to dull your senses, your mind, but in a way that you still know how to avoid dying.”

  “Avoid dying?” Zach asked. That doesn’t sound good.

  “Really, the threat is more so the tea than anything else. Your connection to the realm shouldn’t kill you; it shouldn’t even be harmful. Once you’ve transmuted, it’s Claimed you.”

  Transmuted... Claimed you...

  Searching through the memories of Oliver he had access to, he knew none of these terms were widely used by anyone in this world. That gave him the courage to voice his confusion without raising concerns about his sanity.

  “What are you talking about? How do you know these things?”

  Noah paused by the window he’d opened before they’d left. He looked down at his feet, quiet for a time.

  “I transmuted a while ago. Let’s just say I’ve had time to... adjust.”

  “And what does that mean, transmuted?” he asked, more so to push all thoughts of Leo further back.

  To Zach’s own mind, the term felt familiar. Like something he should know and did, but was buried deep in his mind. Too deep to access.

  Noah let out a soft sigh. He closed the window until it was just wide enough to look down on the street below. The street where the enforcers were standing guard at the building’s front doors. Zach remembered Oliver staring at those guards months before he’d been condemned on the execution platform.

  Why was he watching the building secretly? Even more questions.

  “After the war, there were stories coming from what seemed like every country on the planet. About demons tearing through people’s chests and killing everyone around them. I’m sure you’ve heard about that.”

  He walked around the couch, heading for the door to the right of the room. There was a small bundle of sticks there from which he picked up a bunch with both hands, shouldering the door open.

  It was the apartment’s bathroom. Zach winced, seeing that skeletal version of himself being placed in the tub. When he forced himself to look, he saw Noah dump the sticks in the middle of the room, where they clattered against the floor.

  “From what I’ve been able to gather, the realm we’re going to try to connect you to is known as a Creational Force. There are different ones. And it seems each one has a String. Think of it like... like tiers? Yes.Tiers.”

  Stolen story; please report.

  “And what’s that for?” Zach asked.

  “That’s for the fire. We need to cook the rabbit. The food you ate earlier comes from the rooms on the floors below. Now and then, I take the bowls and plates up here. It helps the enforcers think there are some Dreamers who are still able to eat.”

  Again, Zach felt the guilt surge through his body. It hadn’t even occurred to him that he’d been finishing the food. Of course, it didn’t help that this particular guilt added itself to Oliver’s guilt regarding his brother.

  If this goes on any longer, I’ll definitely go insane.

  “But, back to your first question,” Noah went on, piling the sticks one atop the other. “You said you lost your memories, so I don’t know if you remember the knocking. But that’s how it seems to start. If you survive the pull of those creatures, you transmute into the first string.”

  Knocking...

  Sweat broke out across his body, fear crawling over his skin, making him look around in fear, searching for a sound he knew wasn’t there. But this is Oliver’s fear, not mine!

  He couldn’t remember the actual sound, but what else could knocking possibly sound like?

  “So, you saw the demons, too,” Zach noted, more to himself than to Noah.

  Noah went on as if he hadn’t heard.

  “I can only assume transmuting is different for everyone. To date, I’ve met three Dreamers, each of them Claimed by a different Force. Unfortunately, not many survive the transmuting. You’re the fourth one I’m speaking to.”

  “How many people are there? In this building, I mean?”

  Noah got up from the floor, the foundations for the fire laid, and turned to face him.

  “A hundred and seventy,” he answered simply. “Not counting the ones who die on the platform.”

  Zach blinked, stunned by the number. “So, you want me to access this... realm... to see what Creational Force... Claimed me?”

  “Exactly,” he responded. “Which brings us back to the poppy tea. The Medical Function is a bit more controlled than the Agricultural one, which means—”

  “Why?” Zach interrupted. “I mean, I know why I have to do it, but you sound like you have an interest, too. This feels like more than generosity.”

  Noah studied him silently, just like he had back on the farm. Zach wondered what he saw. Whatever subservience, hunger, and confusion had placed in his eyes, Zach knew a good portion of it was no longer there. He needed this man, but he was no pushover. He felt an amusing irony at that; it frustrated him that he didn’t know why.

  “I was raised to respect knowledge,” Noah said slowly. “To chase it. No matter what. I was raised to think for myself and find my own answers. That’s what I intend to do, because there are many unanswered questions in our world right now.”

  There was a passion in his voice, a passion that spoke to something buried deep inside Zach. That thirst for knowledge... Again, he had the feeling of familiarity. It was undeniable now. In his previous life, he’d somehow been involved in research and history.

  “Fine, then,” Zach said, shrugging off that discomfort. “How do we get the tea?”

  “As I was saying. The Medical Function is a bit more controlled than the Agricultural one, which means I can’t just Step there.”

  Zach opened his mouth, but Noah got ahead of him. “Exploiting the gravitational distance between two points. What we just did. An ability I gained in my first String.”

  He must’ve seen Zach’s expression, as he added, “I told you, I transmuted a while ago. I’ve had time to learn.”

  Zach could only give a subtle nod in return.

  “They’re a bit more lax on the farm, seeing that there’s an entire perimeter surrounding the lands. They really expect threats to come from beyond our lands or from the inner Camp. But they have the plant under constant surveillance.”

  As always, he studied Zach for a minute. “You look too young to have tried alcohol before.”

  “I’m twenty-two!” he answered on instinct.

  “Precisely,” Noah said with a frown.

  Just then, Zach realized that in this world, you were only considered an adult once you turned twenty-four. The age when the innocence of youth finally fled the soul, now tainted from experience with the real world.

  He shook his head, adopting an abashed look.

  “I only mentioned it in case we can’t get the plant or tea. Stealing liquor is better than trying to steal poppy plants. I’d have to Step into some houses; someone is bound to have something.”

  He walked to the front door, sticking his head out into the hall.

  “That will have to wait until tomorrow night,” he muttered, shaking his head. “ I’ve almost reached my Stepping limit, and I have to leave room for emergencies. Besides, I have to go kill the fire in the stairwell and remove the message.”

  “How did you know someone would be coming down tonight?”

  “I didn’t. I light that flame and leave that message every single night.”

  “And how do you know someone won’t burn down the building? And that the enforcers won’t see it, or smell it?”

  Noah looked at him as if he’d said the dumbest thing known to mankind. “How on Earth would they smell fire? It doesn’t have a smell.”

  That’s right, you idiot! There’d been no smoke rising from the fire. How funny would it be if that question were the reason he thought I’m crazy? He didn’t smile or chuckle. Based on the threatening look he’d seen in Noah’s eyes, he thought he knew how the man handled threats to the Dreamhold.

  “Before I go, you’ll need this,” he added, walking down the apartment’s small passage. Zach heard drawers being thrown open before he came walking back with a large knife. “Stole it from the farm a few months back.”

  Zach took it with a hesitant frown. “What’s this for?”

  “The rabbit. You’ll need to skin it first.”

  “I need to skin the rabbit?”

  “I hate doing it, and this time, I’m not eating alone. I’ll make the fire, you skin the rabbit. Fair deal, no? Oh, and try not to waste any meat. The key is to go slow and steady.”

  He flashed a quick smile and headed for the door once more. Without looking back, he disappeared into the hallway.

  Zach picked up the rabbit, its fur darker in here than it had been outside on the farm. The faint warmth the creature was left with was all that remained of its previous life. A startling resemblance to his own life.

  Comparing yourself to a rabbit. Stop looking for signs where there aren’t any. The weariness that rode that thought was something only experience could create. It seemed particularly focused on the words, looking for signs.

  Unlike the rabbit that was quickly losing all traces it had ever been alive, he at least still had that. As maddening as being forced to endure Oliver’s memories and emotions was, he still had those faint feelings that linked him to his old life.

  He had to remember that. Cling to it. Make it the only thing that had any importance to him. Because that was how he was going to go home. Or at least understand what the hell is going on here.

  “The key is to go slow and steady, huh? I can do that. Slow and steady.”

  Forcing the emotional link between him and the rabbit out of his mind, he turned the animal around and started working from just above its paws. It was only as he forced the knife into its fur, then into its flesh, that he noticed just how big the thing was. And he had to skin all of it?

  “Slow and steady.”