I couldn't see the tops of the huge gates of the Archive because they were covered in gray clouds. They were made of a strange, cold black material, the kind that seemed to absorb all light. I did not see any way to open them—no handle, no keyhole. At my eye level, there was a flat pane of glass illuminated by a soft white light, pulsing gently.
Silas had a strong grip on my shoulder, and he dragged me into the shadows near a pillar.
"If you breathe on that glass, you are going to die. Do you know what it is?"
"It is a Soul Scanner. It will scan to see if your identity matches the one on the Council's list. You are no longer here on Earth, so it will treat you like a virus. It will fry your brain before you have a chance to scream."
"So what do we do to get in?" I said under my breath.
I had a bad feeling about this—we were about to enter the most dangerous place in the Marrow. I was sure one of the guards would notice us if we just stood at the front door and waited for help.
Silas had no answer. He started to explore the wall, tracing his fingers along the seams of the stones. Then he stopped at a small, rusted vent near the ground. The grimy, forgotten vent looked like it had not been opened for at least a century.
"Ethan," Silas said, "every building has some kind of flaw."
He gave the vent a hard kick, and the metal shrieked. The grate fell off and thudded loudly onto the pavement. A strange odor wafted out—a mixture of old, dusty paper and fresh rain, like a thousand memories stored away in a cold place.
"Come on, follow me," he whispered. "And whatever you do, don't let your hand touch the edge of the vent."
We crawled through the dusty, narrow tunnel. It was a tight squeeze. There was so much dust in the air that my throat began to itch, and my knees hurt from scraping against the cold metal. I had to be careful not to hit my iron cuff against the walls. Each time there was the slightest clink, I froze, thinking sirens would sound.
Eventually, we found the second vent, and Silas opened it just enough—about an inch—so we could look inside.
We were staring into a room so vast it almost looked like a separate world. The ceiling was completely dark, yet everywhere around us thousands of bookshelves floated in the air. Instead of standing on the floor, they drifted slowly and turned like giant, motionless planets in space. Tiny blue lights moved between them like glowing insects.
Silas spoke quietly. "There are Watchers. They have been programmed to find errors. An error is a person who does not belong in this room. When I move, you stay behind the pillars. You only move when I move."
We moved quickly from one pillar to another, staying as low as possible. The room was perfectly still except for the subtle hum of the aerial shelves. In the middle of the vast hall stood an enormous stone table. Upon it rested a great bowl carved from a single crystal, filled with swirling silver liquid.
"This is the place," Silas said quietly, glancing around nervously. "This is the Well of Records. Place your hand just over the surface, Ethan. Just over it. Don't touch the liquid—just bring the cuff close. Recall the night you had your deletion. Recall how it felt to be outside in the cold, after leaving the bridge—being there, and then gone."
I closed my eyes and dug deep into my mind for the memory I hated most. I remembered the cold wind rushing around me in London, and cars passing by as if I were never there at all.
Suddenly, my iron cuff vibrated with an angry purple glow. Then a single bolt of violet energy shot upward from the cuff, striking the silver liquid below and sending up an explosive splash.
The bowl began to spin. Its surface transformed into an image of my face, covered with jagged red lines and warning symbols. Then words began scrolling across it:
[NAME: ETHAN THORNE]
[AGE: 19]
[ORIGINS: EARTH SECTOR – LONDON]
[STATUS: CRITICAL DELETE]
[REASON: POSSESSION OF UNAUTHORIZED SHAPER GENE]
I was petrified, shaking as I read the words. What in the world did it mean to have the Shaper Gene? Why would anyone delete someone for having a specific gene?
Silas looked pale as he stared at the display.
"You are not a complete accident," he said. "The Shapers created both the Real World and the Marrow. They were like gods, but the Council destroyed them long ago to seize power. Since then, they have hunted anyone with Shaper blood."
He gripped my arm even tighter and looked straight into my eyes.
"You're more than a lost boy, Ethan. You are the last person alive with the power to alter reality itself. To the Council, you are the most dangerous creature that has ever lived."
Without warning, the little blue lights in the room stopped moving and turned deep red all at once.
The floating bookcases halted their spinning and let out a loud screech that echoed through the hall. Then an imposing mechanical voice boomed from the ceiling:
"ILLEGAL SHAPER BIOMASS DETECTED. SEALING SECTOR 4. DEPLOYING WARDENS."
"They found us!" I shouted, jerking my hand away from the bowl.
Iron plates slammed over every window and door, sealing us inside. Then I heard the heavy thudding of boots approaching from the hall to our right.
Three figures emerged from the darkness. Each stood nearly seven feet tall, clad in polished silver armor that reflected the red light above. They had no faces—only glowing T-shaped visors. In their hands were long spears humming with white electricity.
"The Wardens," Silas whispered, drawing a heavy metal rod from his belt. "They're not here to capture you, Ethan. They're here to destroy the evidence. Right now, we are the evidence."
I looked down at the iron cuff on my wrist. It pulsed with my heartbeat, flooding the room with violet light. For the first time in my life, I felt an overwhelming surge of energy—a solid, terrifying strength that made the air around me tremble.
"You think you can erase me?" I said, walking toward the silver soldiers.
"Go ahead. I dare you."