Chapter 2
In the streets of the City of Sunrise, morning fireworks bloomed in full splendor.
A pale young man walked through the crowd with his family, weaving between people, his hand repeatedly tapping against his chest.
"So, Finn," said his father, "Karmine told me the surgery was a success. But she didn't say whether you'll have to keep your heart beating through sheer focus."
Finn stayed silent for a moment, trying, and failing, to pull his hand free.
"Dad… let go of my hand first. I hate it when you treat me like I'm seven," he muttered irritably. "Anyway, you know I'm not allowed to tell you any of that. Unless he wants to owe me enough favors to buy this entire island."
Verascus wore a red suit over his white lab coat. His features mirrored Finn's, only warmer, more welcoming. He held each of his children's hands tightly, refusing to let go.
"No chance. With your size, I'd spend the whole day trying to find you again if I lost sight of you two."
"Just admit you're scared of telling Mom you lost the kids," Finn muttered, clicking his tongue and looking away.
"One doesn't rule out the other," his father replied with a light cough. "I mean… your heart. Your heart."
"I don't know if it'll hold," Finn said, rubbing his chest again. "But it's by far the best we've made. It has the elasticity of Number Three, the combustion of Number Seven, and the balance of Sixteen. It's… perfect."
And it had better be.
After all, this was without question his last prosthetic.
Accessing his heart again would be nearly impossible without irreversible consequences, not after more than a dozen surgeries.
Hearing this, his father let out a quiet sigh of relief.
"Don't worry. Research on the Fallen keeps advancing. I'm sure we'll find a solution in time."
"I think you're already doing enough," Finn said, shaking his head. "If we find something, great. If it's impossible… then so be it. I'll manage on my own."
"You really have to stop with those pessimistic tendencies of yours."
It was Fiona, his twin, holding their father's other hand while nibbling on sweets. She looked almost identical to Finn, except for her deep navy-blue eyes.
"Even if there's no solution," Verascus added, a proud smile forming, "I'll create one, just like I always have."
"All that endless talk about me being humble. It doesn't even have anything to do with your actual field of expertise."
"So you're going to stick around a while longer, I guess?"
"It's not like you could live without me, sparrow-head."
She shook her head before bending her wrist and slipping effortlessly from their father's grasp.
Flabbergasted, Finn turned toward their father, who made no effort to catch her.
"What?" he asked. "She's taller. She won't get lost."
"So now it's open discrimination."
"You see, my 'little' one, you need to gain a few centimeters to earn some credibility."
"That's low. Even for you. You know my circumstances," Finn frowned. "Wait until I get used to this heart, I'll shoot up like an arrow."
"Alright, we need to hurry," their father said, quickening his pace. "Our ship is leaving soon, and we still need souvenirs for your siblings, and to find Lydia."
"Is it my fault you have so many kids?" Finn muttered, clicking his tongue again, only to receive a sharp smack on the head.
Strangely enough, every time he received a new prosthetic heart, one thing never changed: his mood was always sour.
The tension finally eased. After more than a month spent here, weighed down by the stress of Finn's surgery and the uncertainty surrounding his last prosthetic, they were finally going home.
Finally, I can resume my research, Finn thought, quickening his pace.
Then he noticed something strange.
His father had let go of his hand, or rather, he could no longer feel it.
His foot wasn't touching the ground.
It was a sensation similar to what he had felt after separating from Lydia, though this time, he dismissed it as imagination, or perhaps lingering Flux from Selena.
His eyes widened as he tried to understand, but everything was frozen, the crowd, the noise, even the wind.
Then suddenly, he felt himself rising into the sky, his head brushing the clouds.
Then the world resumed, except it was as if a new reality had presented itself to him.
A creeping darkness spread across the sky.
A massive purple cloud swallowed the sun that had shone so brightly only moments ago.
Debris rose into the air.
Although the world was moving again, Finn stood frozen.
"An Eternal Dome…?"
He slowly lifted his head, his breath trembling.
His father still stood there, eyes closed, motionless, as if asleep.
Finn bit his lip and ran toward Fiona, who remained still.
She was conscious.
When he saw her bright blue eyes still alive, the crushing weight in his chest surged back into motion.
She looked at Finn, then at their father, and collapsed to her knees, tears streaming freely down her cheeks.
"Finerald… is it what I think?" she whispered, her once cheerful voice twisted in fear.
Finn looked at her, then back at Verascus.
It was over. There would be no goodbye.
His mouth opened, then closed again. For the first time in a long while, his mind was empty.
He clenched his fists, shut his eyes, and whispered:
"Hael."
When he opened them, his expression had shifted.
An unnatural calm settled over him, as if something else had taken control. His mind functioned like an arrow shot straight into the sky, with nothing slowing its ascent.
"Fiona," he said steadily. "We have to go."
"Go where?" she screamed, tears spilling endlessly.
"Fiona," he repeated, his tone calm, sharp. "Wake up. We're still alive."
"Our ship. We can still make it. You said you wanted to face Freya. You said you wanted to be strong. You said you'd destroy the Dome someday. Then survive one first."
"I'm not like you," she said, trying to stand before losing her balance. Finn caught her by the arms and forced her upright. "I can't just decide that things don't matter anymore just because I want them not to."
"Neither can I," Finn replied, his expression frozen in that strange blend of calm and barely perceptible melancholy. "I have emotions too, you know. You just won't see them."
Without giving her the opportunity to respond, Finn seized her hand firmly and ran toward the harbor. Fiona bit her lip, clenching her fists, already regretting the words she had spoken.
They looked back once.
Verascus stood still, almost smiling, his eyes forever closed behind those shining glasses.
''Wait for me... I'll be back.''
If death could be reduced to a heart that ceases beating, so Finerald has in a way already died twice.
Once at birth, and the second, two years ag
o, on his twelfth birthday, when his heart was torn out.
And now the rest of his life would center on escaping his third, and final, death.