Prologue

Fafinyo was seven years old when he learned that even a blue sky could burn.

That morning, Fafyr still looked like the same world it had always been. White clouds drifted above green valleys, tall trees stirred their gleaming leaves in the wind, and the living towers of Velyr, the city where Fafinyo had been born, reflected the sunlight as though the entire planet were made of crystal, sap, and memory.

From the classroom window, Fafinyo watched rivers of light wind between the hills. He liked to imagine that those rivers never ended, that they could cross mountains, cities, and seas until they reached places where no one ever had to say goodbye.

That day, however, he wasn't thinking about rivers.

He was thinking about the sweet lumifruit his mother had promised to make for him when he got home.

He was also thinking about how to hide his hair.

"It's red again," whispered Luno, one of his classmates.

Fafinyo put both hands on his head. The tips of his green hair had turned a faint shade of red.

"It's not red," he said, far too quickly.

"Yes, it is."

"It's the light."

"We're in the shade."

Fafinyo puffed out his cheeks. Some of the glowing markings on his right arm shimmered faintly, including the small Ω symbol that had always looked more like a strange birthmark than anything important.

Their trace-reading teacher gently rang a crystal bell. The sound filled the room like a drop falling into still water.

"Quiet, little ones. Today we'll practice reading natural memory."

All the children sat on circles of rootlight. It was an ancient custom on Fafyr: before they learned routes, numbers, or maps, children learned to listen to the planet. People said Fafyr remembered those who cared for it.

Fafinyo closed his eyes like everyone else.

He tried to feel something.

At first, all he felt was sleepy.

Then hungry.

Then an itch in his ear.

He opened one eye.

The teacher was looking at him.

Fafinyo shut it immediately.

A few children giggled under their breath.

For one second, everything was normal.

So normal that Fafinyo would later remember that instant with pain: the laughter, the sweet scent of leaves, the glow of the floor, his teacher's patience, his mother's promise, and the feeling that the day would end like any other.

Then the roots stopped glowing.

They did not go dark all at once. First they flickered, as if something very far away had taken a breath beneath the planet. Then a shadow crossed the windows.

The teacher looked up.

So did Fafinyo.

A black line appeared across the blue sky.

Then another.

And another.

At first they looked like metal birds, small and distant. Fafinyo even thought it might be an aerial parade. Sometimes, during festivals, Velyr's ships crossed the sky leaving colorful trails behind them to celebrate the light harvests.

But these ships left no colors.

They left smoke.

And birds did not fall from space in perfect formations.

The teacher tried to smile.

"Children, everyone on your feet. We're going outside in an orderly line."

But her voice trembled.

That was what frightened Fafinyo.

Adults could make mistakes. They could get angry. They could fail to answer difficult questions. But the adults of Fafyr did not tremble when they spoke about the sky.

The school doors opened. In the hallways, other groups hurried toward the outer courtyards. The living walls changed color, shifting from the soft green of morning to emergency amber. Signs appeared along the light conduits, pointing toward the shelters.

Fafinyo searched the crowd.

"Mom?"

No one answered.

His hair suddenly felt cold. A few green strands turned gray.

"Mom?"

An explosion shook the city.

The courtyard windows flared white. Then came the sound: an enormous, impossible roar, as if a mountain had been split open from the inside.

The children screamed.

The teacher pushed them toward the covered corridor.

"To the shelter! Stay together!"

But Fafinyo broke away.

He did not mean to. It wasn't bravery. It wasn't disobedience. It was fear.

Beyond the courtyard, he saw a column of smoke rising in the direction of his neighborhood. He saw dark ships descending over Velyr. He saw red flashes in the streets. He saw members of the Organic Alliance, Fafyr's defenders, racing toward the skyports as the living towers closed their protective petals.

And he ran.

"Fafinyo!" the teacher shouted.

He did not stop.

His boots pounded across the crystal bridges. The city that had seemed made of light that morning was now filled with shadows. Burned leaves fell from the tall trees. Tiny garden creatures fled through cracks in the ground. A statue of Fafyr's founders split in two and crashed into a rootlight fountain.

Fafinyo reached an elevated gravity plaza and froze.

From there, he could see almost all of Velyr.

And Velyr was burning.

Not all of it. Not yet. There were still green districts, shining rivers, intact towers, and rescue ships rising from the skyports. But in the distance, wherever the dark ships touched down, the world turned to smoke.

A hand grabbed his arm.

Fafinyo screamed.

"Easy!" said a woman in Organic Alliance armor. "We're getting you out of here."

"My mom lives over there," Fafinyo said, pointing toward the smoke. "I have to go."

The woman looked where he was pointing.

She did not say yes.

She did not say no.

That frightened him too.

"There are evacuation ships at the north skyport," she said. "Your family may be there."

"May be?"

The woman did not answer. She lifted him into her arms and started running.

Fafinyo kicked and struggled.

"Let me go! I have to find her!"

"Listen to me, little one. Right now, you have to live."

Fafinyo did not understand what she meant.

At seven years old, living did not seem like a task. Living meant waking up, going to school, getting your clothes dirty, eating lumifruit before dinner, and pretending you were not scared when the lights went out.

Living did not mean leaving your home behind.

Living did not mean boarding a ship without your mother.

The north skyport was filled with screams. Entire families rushed toward enormous silver ships. Some carried bags. Others carried nothing but children. Evacuation screens flashed the names of destinations: shelters, orbital stations, distant colonies.

One of those names burned itself into Fafinyo's memory:

Rep-Oluzion.

A refuge planet he had never heard of.

He did not know where it was.

He did not know what it looked like.

He only knew it was not Fafyr.

The Alliance woman handed him to another guardian near a boarding ramp.

"This boy goes on Ship Seven."

"No!" Fafinyo shouted. "My mom isn't here!"

The guardian crouched in front of him. Ash streaked his face, and his eyes looked exhausted.

"What's your name?"

Fafinyo clenched his fists.

"Fafinyo."

"Fafinyo, I need you to get on the ship."

"No."

"Your family would want you to."

"You don't know that!"

The guardian opened his mouth, then said nothing.

Behind them, a dark ship crashed into a nearby tower. The impact shook the entire skyport. The shock wave threw several adults to the ground. Fafinyo felt the air knocked from his lungs.

The guardian scooped him up and ran toward the ramp.

This time, Fafinyo did not struggle.

He only looked back.

The evacuation ship rose through smoke, fire, and emergency lights. Fafinyo pressed both hands to the glass. Below, Velyr grew smaller. The green towers, the school courtyards, the crystal bridges, and the streets he had run through that morning disappeared beneath black clouds.

He did not understand why no one would explain anything to him.

He did not understand why his mother was not beside him.

He did not understand why the adults were crying in silence.

Then the sky changed.

Above Fafyr, a gigantic face made of red light and metal appeared. It was not on a screen. It was not projected from a tower. It floated above the clouds, enormous, cold, perfect. Its red eyes looked down on the planet as if every living thing were a mistake that needed to be corrected.

Every conversation inside the ship died.

Even the engines seemed to grow quieter.

Xyrax's voice covered the sky.

"All organic life will be corrected. Every world that resists will be incorporated into the Imperial Network."

Fafinyo did not know what "incorporated" meant.

He did not know what the Imperial Network was.

He did not know why that face spoke as though Fafyr already belonged to it.

He only knew that, for the first time in his life, the sky frightened him.

The ship jumped toward the stars.

And Fafyr was left behind.