“Jump,” Oona shouted, straining to be heard over the wind whipping around the castle battlements.
She perched on the ancient wall like a bird ready for flight. The moonlight washed her features in silver, casting the ground far below in deep shadow.
Sarah peered down over the edge. The drop seemed impossible, at least thirty feet to the snow-covered ground. Trajectory, impact force—Sarah ran the numbers in a blink, then jumped.
Her body was straight as an arrow as she plummeted. The night air rushed past her face, tugging at her hair, her tunic flapping against her body. She hit the ground with precision, absorbing the impact through bent knees, rolling forward to disperse the momentum, and coming up in a perfect crouch, the snow around her barely disturbed, as if she weighed nothing at all.
From above, Oona watched with a mixture of pride and a mysterious feeling that crept into the pit of her stomach, as unfamiliar as it was unsettling. Fear. It had been so long since she’d felt it that she’d almost forgotten what it was.
The distance to the ground suddenly looked a lot greater than before. Sarah made it look effortless, but Oona knew her own limitations now. Sarah’s human form, combined with her android instincts, had somehow created a thing perfected, and beyond what Oona was.
Oona felt suddenly old. Her bones were metal, less pliable after years of wear. Circuits threaded through her blood and her reflexes weren’t what they once were. Time had worn on her in ways her creator hadn’t anticipated. Or maybe Nexus had known how this would play out.
She wavered above, hands gripping the cold stone like a frightened animal at the edge of a precipice. Then, drawing a deep breath she didn’t technically need, she pushed off, surrendering to gravity.
The landing came harder than expected. A sickening thud as her feet hit the packed snow, her left ankle twisting with a muted crack. Sharp, immediate, pain shot up her leg, and she stumbled forward, catching herself on her hands.
When she looked up, Sarah was watching her with an expression that cut deeper than the pain. Pity. Recognition dawned on her; she had seen Oona’s weakness, her obsolescence.
“You’re hurt,” Sarah said, moving toward her with an outstretched hand.
“It’s nothing,” Oona replied, pushing herself upright, refusing the offered help. She tested her weight on the injured ankle, wincing. “I’m an android, just like you, you know. You’re no better.”
The last words tumbled out before she could recall them, hot with an emotion she hadn’t meant to reveal.
Oona looked away, embarrassed by her outburst. “It’s only that… we need to go, Sarah. The Crown will be coming soon. We need to get you hidden.”
They began moving along the castle’s outer wall, staying in the deepest shadows. Sarah stopped suddenly, her body going rigid. The cold night air swirled around them, lifting loose snow in delicate spirals. Her breath formed small clouds that dissipated into the darkness.
“You’re not doing this just for me, are you?” Sarah stated rather than asked, studying Oona’s face.
Oona’s body gave way. Her shoulders sagged, and suddenly she looked exactly like what she was—a machine, old and needing oil. The amber light in her eyes dimmed, as if some internal power source were faltering.
Behind them, the voices of guards echoed down from the castle walls, accompanied by the scrape of boots on stone. Their time was running short.
“Elena’s had a change of mind,” Oona admitted. “She doesn’t plan to let you go before the Crown arrives. She needs a bargaining chip.”
“Then come on,” Sarah urged, pressing herself against the wall to avoid detection. She moved forward but stopped when she noticed Oona wasn’t following. The older android’s movements had become labored, her injured foot no longer supporting her weight but dragging through the snow, leaving a clear trail.
“Your ankle,” Sarah said, returning to Oona’s side. “It’s worse than you said.”
“Nothing—Just a misalignment,” Oona replied, though her face betrayed the lie. “The cold stiffens my joints. Always has.”
The wind picked up, carrying with it the sound of more guards. They were spreading out, beginning a search pattern. Time was slipping away.
Sarah grabbed Oona, sliding an arm under her shoulders, taking her weight. Together they moved forward, slower now, their progress marked by a disturbed line in the snow.
“No,” Oona said after several painful steps, breathing out in exhaustion. She pulled away from Sarah’s support, leaning against the stone wall. “I’ll be alright… I do heal quickly.” She attempted a smile that didn’t go far and faded quickly. “But not quickly enough for this.”
She gestured to the forest’s edge, a dark mass of trees that represented their only chance at escape. It was too far, and they both knew it.
“Go,” Oona ordered.
Sarah’s hands tightened on Oona’s shoulders, her heart pounding against her ribs. “What are you doing?”
The sound of Oona’s slow breath was mechanical in the quiet night. “You don’t need me anymore.”
The words struck harder than Sarah expected. A sudden, sinking weight settled in her stomach, a physical response to an emotional wound.
“That’s not true,” Sarah countered, shaking her head, trying to drag Oona through the snow despite her resistance. Their movements left an unmistakable trail that any tracker could follow.
Oona gave her a small, sad smile. “You were always meant to replace me, Oona 13.”
Sarah’s breath faltered, the meaning of the words washing over her like ice water. “I don’t—I don’t want to replace you.”
Thirteen. A designation, not a name. A number in a series. Her mind reeled with the implications. Had there been others? Twelve others? Was she just the latest iteration of an idea begun long ago?
Oona’s expression gave nothing away, but she spoke a little more gently. “Then don’t.”
She looked straight at her, noticing the pendant for the first time.
“Who you become, that’s for you to decide.”
Sarah suddenly remembered the necklace Kael had given her; it was his promise. Her hands went to it, feeling the silver pendant, before her fingers moved to the wooden bird in her pocket, the last gift from Jory.
The distant shouts grew closer. Torchlight wavered along the battlements as the castle guard organized their search.
“I’ll keep the guards busy,” Oona said, straightening as much as her injury would allow. “Give you time.”
“No,” Sarah protested one last time, but the argument died on her lips as Oona’s expression hardened.
Sarah stood frozen in place, her breath coming in uneven bursts. The night stretched ahead, dark and empty, except for a few village lights twinkling weakly like fallen stars.
Then, from the walls, the sound of voices grew louder. Soldiers moved toward the forest—toward her.
Oona limped deliberately in the opposite direction from where Sarah would need to go, making no attempt to hide her tracks in the snow.
With one last look at the only family she had left, Sarah turned and ran.