Nazirah clutches her hands together, trembling. She rubs her wrist until it’s sore. And she prays. She prays to no one … to everyone … to anyone who will listen. Nazirah prays to her parents for strength, apologizing for not being smarter, for not thinking faster, for disappointing them. She prays for Lumi’s survival, for the safety of everyone at headquarters. Nazirah prays for Niko, reflecting on their relationship, wishing she tried harder as a sister. What will happen to him, once he has absolutely no family left? Nazirah prays for Cato, regretting that they will never fix things and that their friendship will end on such a sour note. She would give anything to hug him again, feel his tender kiss on her forehead. Nazirah hopes Cato and Cander will bridge their differences. Stubbornness and pride blind them, and neither sees how truly similar they are.
Nazirah cradles herself, pretends it is Adamek holding her. She drags his pillow onto the floor, inhaling his scent. What she would give for an Iluxor now! She thinks of his face, of his piercing eyes, trying to remember their exact shade. She will never see them again, never see him again. And she wants to. She really, really wants to. She wants to touch his jaw and kiss his lips and banter and fight and hit and taste and just live.
She wants to live.
#
Nazirah sits up slowly, rubbing cramped and sore muscles. Her arm still smarts, her forehead is caked and peeling. Nazirah watches heavy gray clouds roll across an overcast sky. Rain today … it’s fitting.
Nazirah stares at her reflection in the glass. Her appearance is ragged and her eyes are haunting. They were once the same as Riva’s, window to her mother’s soul. They were once honey and amber and bright. But now they are dull and hollow.
Riva was no murderer. There are many ways to break the soul.
Nazirah feels the fallout.
#
Nazirah rises, knowing she must have only minutes left. She walks around Adamek’s room one final time. Nazirah sits at his desk, running her palms over the grain. Her hand drifts to the side drawer, opening it hesitantly. Nazirah shuffles under the books, pulling out the hidden silver case not even Gabirel knows exists.
Laying the case on the desk, Nazirah blows away the dust, particles of the past. She shakily enters the code. It opens it with a flourish, revealing the ink, needle and pistol, untouched for months, long forgotten. Fingers move of their own accord, unscrewing the jar, dipping the needle. She gives herself a single black scratch, just above the knuckle.
Ramses.
She prays for him then, unexpectedly. Nazirah checks the gun; it’s loaded with a solitary bullet. She searches the drawers for more, finds nothing. It’s a rotten trick, because a gun with only one bullet can have only one purpose. Nazirah stares at it numbly. Maybe she could shoot Gabirel. Maybe she could shoot herself. She could end it all so easily. And her family wouldn’t have to watch her die.
But she promised Lumi she wouldn’t break. And she won’t. This goes beyond her. Niko’s words finally make sense. The rebels, the citizens of Renatus, they need to see this. The Chancellor is wrong, in so many ways he is wrong. Her death will not be the end of the rebellion.
It will be the catalyst.
That has been her job all along. “Become the moon,” she whispers, choosing her fate.
She places the gun back into the case, shuts it. There are noises outside her door. Nazirah shoves everything into the drawer, quickly standing. Gabirel walks into the room, smiling brightly. “Beautiful morning to die, isn’t it?”
The guards lead her back through the grand room, up the crystal staircase to the roof. It’s pouring now. A mob of people already gathers, warm under their coats and umbrellas. Nazirah sees the television crews, reporters, prominent government officials, armed police, lucky onlookers … all waiting for her. The guard who helped Nazirah up last night walks her onto a makeshift platform, built atop a helipad. She gives Nazirah’s arm a discreet, comforting squeeze. Nazirah holds the tears, looking up to the sky. The wind howls, gusts and powerful gales. Rain falls against her skin, cleansing her, washing away the blood and torment and misery.
She is not afraid anymore.
Gabirel raises his arms, silencing the crowd. “Nazirah Nation!” he proclaims, “Intermix, traitor, anarchist, murderer.… Today, you answer for your crimes against the honorable citizens of Renatus! Your death will be swift and just. Repent now! Call an end to this foolish rebellion! Tell your fellow conspirators to stand down, and accept the lives God has chosen for them!”
“I will not.”
The crowd murmurs. Gabirel snaps his fingers at one of the guards, who hands him a pistol. “Very well,” he says. “Any last words?”
She has a few.
“My name is Nazirah Nation!” she says clearly. “I am the daughter of Kasimir Nation, a loving and compassionate Oseni, and Riva Martel, a strong and idealistic Eridian. Against all odds, my parents fell in love! Because of that love, they are now dead.”
“You dare lie before God?” Gabirel shouts. “Before your country? Your parents were slanderous rebels! Be silent now and meet death with dignity!”
“I will not be silent!” she screams. The rain falls in embracing sheets, calling her to the heavens. “I may be intermix, but I am no liar! I am a girl who has lost everything and still has everything! I am a friend, a sister, a daughter” – her voice cracks – “a murderer, just like you … and I will not be quiet! We have been quiet for far too long! Where is your wife now, Chancellor?” Gabirel’s eyes flash dangerously, but Nazirah has nothing to lose. “And her intermix lover?” The crowd erupts as Nazirah raises her arm, displaying her burn, mark of the intermix. “You may take our lives, but you will not take our voice!”
Gabirel aims the pistol at her head.
Shivering in the rain, Nazirah holds her arms out passively, palms open. She looks into the crowd, imagining she sees Cato or Niko in the sea of Medis, with her until the end. Death is not her enemy; it’s where Nazirah will reunite with her parents. Absolved of fear and hatred, graced with acceptance, she is not her enemy either.
Today, Nazirah is free.
And that is something she holds onto.
Everything slows. Nazirah’s heart rate drops. The rain slacks. The shot fires, lighting and thunder scorching the air. Nazirah waits for the pain to tear through her like a thousand knives. She waits and waits and waits for her life to end.
It doesn’t.
Gabirel clutches his throat. His gun, unfired, escapes his grasp and clatters to the ground. Blood trickles from his mouth. It spills, gushing as he falls to his knees. Gabirel makes a strangled, gurgling sound. Then he collapses into eternal silence.
Brown eyes meet green.
A war erupts with Nazirah standing frozen on the platform. Shots are fired, fists are thrown, and blood is spilt. Reporters and bystanders scream, ducking for cover as rebels surge onto the roof. Insurgents emerge from the crowd, including Niko and Luka, pulling down their hoods and brandishing weapons. Shock wearing off, the Medi troops retaliate. Many people slip in the rain, off the edge, plummeting thousands of feet to their deaths. Smoking gun still in hand, Adamek looks at Nazirah once before disappearing into the fray.
A grenade explodes nearby. Nazirah is wrenched off the platform, pulled out of the line of fire and detonation. “You’re with us?” she cries, glancing into the face of Gabirel’s kinder bodyguard.
“You don’t recognize me, do you?” she yells back.
The face is different, but Nazirah recognizes the staunch voice. She asks, “Ms. Bairs?”
“I still haven’t read that essay,” Ileana jokes grimly, pushing her further to the ground.
“How –”
“MEDIcine!” she yells, struggling to be heard over the chaos. “It was Adamek’s idea to tell everyone at headquarters I was visiting my mother! I’ve really been intercepting and relaying information to Nikolaus for months. I didn’t learn of your kidnapping until too late!” She covers Nazirah’s body as part of the platform collapses. “I wanted to tell you last night, but I couldn’t risk it!”