The walls latched together and clicked into place behind us, leaving no trace of the elevator. A flutter of apprehension tightened my stomach. Rekkan's knuckles whitened over the stock of his rifle.

The Southie woman waddled toward us, the buttons of her shirt straining over a large bosom. "I'm Doctor Zhina. Ivogg, Mekkar, and I lead the crew here at the Refuge."

The tall, thin man on her right fluttered a few fingers and dipped his head. Unkempt wavy hair brushed the collar of his baggy orange dress shirt tucked into green slacks. Completing the bizarre attire, a pink apron covered in hearts tied around his waist. "And I'm Doctor Ivogg. I've heard so much about the two of you, and it's just terrific to finally meet you!" His nasal voice squeaked over the emphasized syllables. "And Zafaru, I'm delighted you are here to help with your mother's project."

My chest squeezed, forcing out an exhale. "My mother's project?"

"Well, the Refuge was designed by all Seven Sentries, of course, but your mother was the inspiration and the team lead." Ivogg adjusted his thick-rimmed spectacles, and the dangling ceiling lights flashed across the lenses. "I'm sure she told you all about us...?"

I swallowed. During our brief meetings, she had mostly spewed academic knowledge, writing a textbook out loud. Sometimes, she would pause to ask if I had any questions. I wanted to know why she left me—or at least hear about her favorite food—but she was too brilliant a mind to be pestered with such things. "Well, she actually, uh... didn't talk much about her projects around me."

"Ah," said Mekkar, smiling first at me and then at Rekkan. "That's how I was, too. Always tried not to discuss work at home! I bet Rekkan never even knew I was in the Seven Sentries."

"I didn't know," said Rekkan, sounding nonplussed by this revelation, "But that's probably because you sent me away when I was eleven."

"Whoa ho ho!" Ivogg patted his apron-clad things with each syllable. "We've all got our little childhood baggage, am I right? Why, I recall a time I wanted to go out for an ice cream, but my mother made me stay home instead. And then there's Mekkar, who I've heard was a weak little child, always bullied, poor thing. But look at us now! We all turned out great."

On the plus side, Ivogg succeeded in distracting Mekkar and Rekkan from their own argument. Less fortunately, both uncle and nephew now glared at him. Before the conversation could further deteriorate, I spoke up.

"I read about the Seven Sentries," I said. "The book said they were creating a refuge before the Implant Era."My eyes drifted back to the impossible natural haven through the archway. "Those tallest trees must be twenty years old. This place was created as a refuge... from the war?"

Zhina beamed at me. "You've got your mother's inquisitive mind, don't you? A refuge from the war, but also a dream for a better future. We thought if we could get a few hundred Northerners to live in peace with a few hundred Southies, they could carry that back to their communities, stop the hate, and end the violence."

"Then what happened? The experiment failed?"

Ivogg sighed. "Unfortunately, it never commenced. The air ducts required extensive work to prevent hypoxia or air poisoning from toxic waste with so many living underground." He poked a finger toward a round, silver air duct snaking across the ceiling. "A power failure could have caused dangerous levels of toxicity within an hour. And before we could ensure sufficient safety measures, the Implant started."

Zhina waved a hand and tsked. "Enough science talk. Now that you are here, I'm certain we can realize your mother's integration dreams." She extended her palm, and her smile crinkled her green eyes and revealed a wide gap between her front teeth. "Now then, I'll keep your weapons safe for you."

Rekkan clenched his jaw and took a step back. "We keep our weapons."

Mekkar lifted a hand to pat Rekkan's shoulder, but Rekkan jerked away before he could make contact. "Rekkan, the Refuge is striving to build a community based on peace and trust. We can't allow anyone to carry weapons."

Rekkan snorted and shook his head. "I don't think so. If you don't trust me, how am I supposed to trust you?"

Mekkar clucked his tongue. "We do trust you! But what if your weapons fell into the wrong hands?"

"Like yours?"

Mekkar's brow furrowed, and his voice grew deep and hoarse. "Rekkan, I'm your uncle. Do you really think I would let anything happen to you?"

Rekkan turned toward me. "This was a bad idea, Zaf. I think we should leave."

I hesitated, casting a glance at the starlit dome. My mother's journal had called the Seven Sentries 'humanity's only hope.' Had my mother planted some of these trees? Had she imagined her tiny son would live here in harmony with Northerners one day? I will never stop until I have secured the future you deserve.

But she had stopped. She stopped because she died. And perhaps she died because of her blind determination.

Rekkan had almost died because of mine.

I directed my next words toward Mekkar. "Let us out."

Mekkar's mouth parted audibly. "Zafaru, listen—"

"You heard him," Rekkan growled. "Open the door. Or are we prisoners here?"

Ivogg picked his way toward Rekkan as though approaching a charging bull. "Whoa, whoa. Settle down there, pal. Perhaps we can come to a compromise?" He dug a hand into his pocket and produced a platinum keycard. "This opens every door and locker in this place, including the weapons locker. Only the three leaders carry this keycard. If you'll stay here and comply with our requests, you can keep mine." He held the key out on his palm.

Rekkan locked gazes with Ivogg, steely coffee eyes boring into spectacled chocolate ones. "This card opens the door to the elevator?"

Ivogg smiled and bobbed his head, wavy brown hair flopping over his forehead.

Rekkan plucked the key from Ivogg's palm. "Good. Then we're leaving."

Ivogg swallowed his smile and sputtered a protest as Rekkan swiveled back toward the hidden entrance and swiped the keycard over a red light on the wall. The light turned green, and a section of the wall shifted forward and slid right. Rekkan clamped a hand over my arm and strode toward the door.

Mekkar shuffled forward to block our exit. "Rekkan, we need you and Zafaru to make this work. At least let us give you a tour before you decide to leave? You'll be able to see for yourselves that you are safe here."

Rekkan strummed fingers over the rifle stock. "We are not going any further without weapons."

Mekkar waved an acquiescing hand. "Fine. You can keep the gun just for the tour."

    Rekkan raised his eyebrows at me, and I nodded. He blew out a breath. "Alright. Show us the Refuge."

Ivogg flashed a bright smile. "Terrific! Right this way." He snapped his fingers and pointed in the direction of the archway.

Mekkar flashed his own keycard over the green light, and the wall swallowed the opening to the elevator once more. Then Ivogg led us through the archway.

As we descended the spiral staircase, the faint tinkle of water crescendoed, splashing and gurgling over stones. A few leaves drifted down the stream. Birds cawed, and small critters rustled bushes.

Ivogg strutted down the path, long limbs swinging and snapping like a gangly adolescent unaccustomed to his own body proportions. "We like to call this area our miniature paradise. In addition to its mental health benefits, nature helps with air purification." Ivogg tipped back his head and gestured to the star-speckled domed ceiling. "Not to mention that during the day, the ceiling panels emulate the sun, from vitamin D to UV rays! Hope you brought your sunscreen."

Ivogg snorted a wheezing laugh, and Zhina cackled. Mekkar and I forced an obliging chuckle. Rekkan rolled his eyes.

The path ended in a wall painted with such convincing camouflage it took me a moment to realize we had reached the end. A thick curtain of real vines draped below a painted tree branch. Without breaking his stride, Ivogg pushed through the vines and disappeared.

I parted the vines with one hand and shouldered through. Vines slithered over my chest and rippled down behind me, and a corridor opened up before me. Like the entrance hall, ferns, bamboo, and colorful walls brightened the space, and silver air ducts gleamed in the light of hanging bulbs.

Ivogg waved an impatient arm. "Right this way, right this way!" With each stride, his slacks tugged up above his ankles, revealing colorful argyle socks.

When a green chalkboard appeared, Ivogg jerked to a halt. "Here's our daily schedule." He waggled fingers at the curly words as he read them. "Eight o'clock, breakfast. Nine o'clock, contribution. Twelve-thirty, lunch. Mediation, more contribution, and dinner at five." He tapped his index finger on the board. "'You are here,' so to speak—the mingling hours! But curfew begins at eight."

I cocked my head, examining the schedule. "Contribution? Mediation? Curfew? And what's that it says on the bottom: five days until Integration?"

"I'll explain everything by the end of the tour," Ivogg promised. "Now then, shall we continue?"

We stopped next when the plum-purple wall on the right gave way to a wide gap. Through the gap, clean white lines checkered the ceiling, walls, and tile floor, contrasted by a metallic web of air ducts and sleek black tables and chairs.

Ivogg smoothed the apron over his slacks. "Refugees here get home-cooked meals three times a day—cooked in part by yours truly. Hope you like to eat!"

Rekkan blew out a breath and rubbed palms over his eyes.

I smiled at Ivogg. "Just so happens we do like to eat."

"Terrific. But you'll like what's coming even more!"

Ivogg whisked down the hallway, and another door flashed by on our right. "Kitchen," he said absently, but he didn't bother to stop. He continued to the next door, which he flung open with exuberant flair. "The greenhouse!"

Hundreds of miniature solar lights speckled the ceiling like stars and cast a warm glow over the sprawling verdant plants. Luscious crimson strawberries dangled below green leaves, and fat golden squashes clung to prickly vines.

"We are working to become fully self-sustainable," said Ivogg. "Which brings me to my next point..."

His sneakers slapped the floor once more, and he waved at us to follow. In front of a door on the right with a blinking red light, he stopped and licked his lips, head rotating back to find Mekkar. "The keycard, please? I may have been overhasty in consigning my own." The barest glance at Rekkan, who did not move.

Mekkar flipped his card over the red light, and the door rolled back. The chamber beyond featured an array of winding metal bars and cords with colorful blinking lights. Several mills taller than me hummed and whirred, and a hand-like metal claw on a wire bounced between machinery, wiping down counters and adjusting knobs.

Ivogg rolled back his shoulders and planted his hands on his hips. "The lab." He sighed. "Here, we produce our own meat and dairy products—one hundred percent vegan, of course."

"Of course," Rekkan repeated in a dull monotone.

Ivogg nodded at me. "You asked about the Contribution, Zafaru. Some cook in the kitchen, some cultivate the greenhouse, and some work in the lab. Of course, we also need people for maintenance, custodial work, childcare, and the like. We have one of the best doctors in the South here working in the infirmary!"

I frowned. "Do you plan on needing a great doctor?"

"It's just a precaution," Zhina assured us. "The worst thing he's dealt with so far is Nezuli's little allergic reaction."

Mekkar raised his eyebrows. "I never heard about that. How is she doing?"

"She's fine," said Zhina. "Doctor Vizan still has her quarantined just in case it's contagious, but he says she's in better spirits than ever. He's been joking that perhaps she's allergic to Northerners."

"She was certainly unpleasant," Mekkar admitted. "Can't say I'll miss her riling everyone up at Mediation."

"Now, now, let's not be rude," said Ivogg. "Here at the Refuge, all are welcome."

Mekkar snorted. "We'll see if you're still saying that when war breaks out after Integration."

"What is Integration?" I asked.

"It's the reason we need you," said Ivogg. "You see, right now, the Northerners stay in the west dormitory after curfew, and the Southies sleep on the opposite side, but—"

"You segregate by country?" said Rekkan, edging closer to me.

Ivogg curled his fingers and snapped them straight as though shooing a fly. "Only for five more days... which is the trouble. You see, relations are progressing a bit slower than anticipated."

"Meaning people still want to kill each other," I said.

Ivogg grimaced, but Mekkar nodded.

"Basically, yep," said Mekkar. "That's the trouble."

I peered down the corridor at the Northerner dormitory, lined with more plants but no sign of movement. "And where are those people now?"

"Well, it's the mingling hour," said Ivogg, "So they are in the lounge, fitness center, and playground." He shimmied his shoulders, rustling the oversized dress shirt. "We'll see those next!"

The next three rooms proved just as impressive as the others, but tension permeated the air. Healthy, happy people laughed together—while peeking over their shoulders. Boisterous conversations dropped to whispers when someone of the wrong nationality passed the invisible boundary between the groups. And wherever possible, the groups self-segregated.

In the lounge, fair-skinned and brown-eyed Northerners sprawled across the couches in front of the numerous television sets, and tan, green-eyed Southies hogged the arcade machines and pool tables. In the fitness center, Southies filled the vast pool and running track, and Northerners monopolized the climbing wall and fitness machines.

Rekkan's shoulders grew stiffer with each new sight. "I don't like it here, Zaf," he said. "Let's—"

He stopped, shoulders deflating and eyes fastened ahead. We had just entered the final room—the playground. Northern children swung from monkey bars and shot down chutes and slides, while the Southie children tossed around balls on a blacktop. But Rekkan only appeared interested in one child. She sat on the bench between the two play areas with a knee drawn up to her chest and her arms circling her calf, one flesh arm and one metallic green.

When her eyes fastened on us, her leg slipped off the bench, and she leapt up and darted toward me. A smile lit my face as her body crashed into mine. She hugged my waist and tipped her head back to beam at me.

I squeezed her shoulder. "Hi, Fennikk. You said you wanted to make friends. Why aren't you playing with the other kids?"

Her smile faded a little. "The Northerners won't play with the Southies, and the Southies won't play with me, so I don't really feel like playing." Then her face brightened again. "You said you weren't coming, but you came! Are you staying?"

"Well..."

Before I could decide how to respond, Fennikk released me and started toward Rekkan. His eyes widened.

"Zaf," he hissed. "She's coming toward me. What am I supposed to do?"

I pressed a hand over my mouth to muffle a laugh as Fennikk wrapped her arms around his hips and rested her head against his stomach.

"Hello, Mr. Rekkan. Did you bring Fluffy?"

Rekkan's hands twitched at his sides, but he didn't lift them. "Yep."

She sucked in a breath. "I guess that means you're staying!" She twisted toward me without releasing Rekkan. "Right?"

    I opened my mouth to speak, but Rekkan answered first. "Yep. Guess so."