Mother leaves after putting me to bed. My temperature remains steady at 102.5 degrees. The pendant I wear, given to each District member at birth, sticks to my chest. My body is clammy, the blankets of my bed are too hot, and then I throw them off and nearly cry from the chill.

All I can think is that something is missing. Someone is missing. It’s like my insides are twisting themselves in knots; tears are streaming down my face. I’m so lonely that I can hardly stand upright.

The ground beneath my feet begins to shake, with small tremors that grow in intensity. Adriana screams from her room while Anne rushes towards us. Struggling to get a hold of myself, I run down the hall, almost losing my balance, when another tremor shakes the house. Crashing into the doorframe, I reach my baby sister’s bedside. Trembling, she cowers beside me.

“Toren, make it stop!”

And just like that, it does. Still clinging to me, Adriana peeks out while Anne checks to ensure we’re alright and rushes to phone my parents.

“Was that an earthquake?” Adriana whispers.

“It was a bad dream.” I lie. “You’re safe. It’s alright now. Go back to sleep, okay?” I’m exhausted, so I have to fight to keep my eyes open, but I don’t want to scare my sister any more than she already is.

I tuck her back in and sway as I leave, returning to my room.  I think I’m bleeding. I must have stepped on the broken glass near the doorway. After a few more unsteady steps, I drop onto my bed, promptly losing consciousness.

 When I wake and run for the bathroom, the tremors begin again. I’m emptying the meager contents of my stomach as water shoots out of the faucet. One of the pipes bursts and begins to puddle on the floor around me.

Somewhere, Adriana is screaming, her little feet racing from her bedroom to mine.

“Adriana, do-” I’m too late; she’s pushed her way in.

“Toren?! Toren, are you okay?!”

I hobble after her, thinking up excuses and cursing as my foot bleeds again.

“Oh no, the earthquake wrecked your room!” Eyes wide, she scrambles to put things back in place, moving to help me even while I shoo her away.

“It’s alright, Tiny. No harm is done.” She pauses when I nudge her out of the way and stumble to the desk, getting a med kit out.

“I’ll get Mom. I think they’re back.”

“Don’t-”

My protests meet an empty space; she’s already off and running, eager to help in any way that she can.

Noting the lack of tremors, I try to see to my wound and clean up the bloody footprints I’ve trailed from the bathroom. Adriana returns with Mother, who scans the room briefly and squats down, still in her heels.

“Thank you, Sweetie. Let me speak with your brother, won’t you?” When she hesitates, Mother continues, “You’re looking far too pale. Perhaps something sweet like ice cream will bring back your coloring? I think I saw some in the freezer-”

Adriana grins and leaves before this bit of good fortune leaves her.

Mother watches her go, then turns back to me, taking in all the mess.

“Someone hasn't been doing their chores,” She comments quietly.

“I need to go,” I answer. She doesn’t seem surprised, though she does hug herself tightly.

“Go where exactly?”

“I... don't know,” I admit. Her lips thin out.

“For how long?” She continues, neatly sidestepping the glass shards.

“I don't know.” I’m beginning to sound like a broken record, but it can’t be helped. I don’t yet have answers to any of her questions.

Mother swallows and gestures helplessly to the destruction to me. “Because of this?”

That, I can answer.

“Yes. Something’s wrong with me, Mother-”

“Like what? Does something hurt?” She cups my face, studying my eyes and turning my head to look in my ears. “Your fever has yet to break, perhaps just a flu or cold. I’m sure it’s nothing. It IS nothing, isn’t it?”

“I don't -”

“Toren, if you tell me, “You don't know” one more time, I’ll...” She trails off, though her look says plenty. It says something that at twenty-one years of age, her warning glare still makes me fidget.

“Mom…” I take one of her hands in mine, and they’re so cold. I’m worrying about her. I don’t want to upset her. “I say this with all respect. There is no flippancy. I truly don’t know what’s happening or where I must go. All I know… is that I need to.”

She looks around the room again. At the broken vase, the disorder that’s so unlike me. Her lips purse before she touches the stone in the ring always adorning her right hand. “Anne. Come here, please. Bring the materials.”

Anne teleports into the room, still in her green satin bathrobe and red hair up in curlers. Despite her girth, she carries herself in a quiet, regal disposition. The crow’s feet at the edge of her blue eyes crinkle when she pushes back a smile. How can she be smiling at a time like this? Under one sturdy arm is a rolled paper and a red book; she smacks my head with the roll.

“What was that for Nan?” I complain, but she does it again to silence me. Mother does not intervene.

“For not bringing your ailment to my attention sooner, young master. You needn’t have suffered alone.” Oh, so she is a bit miffed with me. “Nan,” as Adriana and I affectionately referred to her, only ever called me young master when I’d made her cross. Once upon a time, she was my governess but had become so much like family that Mother kept her on as a housekeeper once I’d gone on to school. After the birth of my much younger sibling, she took back on her former role once more.

“I’ve not been suffering-” She raises the roll again, and I amend, “Merely uncertain of what causes this illness.”

“Anne explained on the phone she’d heard of ailments like yours amongst her fellow Clansmen.” Mother begins an explanation. “She believes she knows where you can go to relieve the symptoms. We’ve already discussed the possibility of a trip, but I’ll let her tell you more.” Excusing herself, she goes to join in Adriana’s ice cream remedy.

“We can speak more freely now.” Nan smiles sympathetically. I’ve been watching young master, what ails you won’t fix itself. But if you follow my instructions, you will be well.”

I try not to let my snort of disbelief be too loud, but Nan’s glare tells me I wasn’t successful.  A Clan sickness, here in Apparatus? The Clans were just territories of small townsfolk, little villages that clung to tradition and refused progress. Five hundred years ago The Districts had to save everyone from a civil war with those savages by agreeing to divide the territories; thank fives they did. It’s how we could enjoy our peace and advancements now. If they had some weird sicknesses we didn’t have here in the central regions; it was probably because they couldn’t understand modern medicine.

Still, I respect Nan. So I  accept the book and roll she gives me. When I unwrap it, one torn edge is graying, the surface of the wrinkled paper yellowed with age. It’s a map.

“There is a place, Himat Amour Casa,” Nan tells me. “If you wish to know your true self and complete your soul, you must go there.”

“Do they have some kind of specialists on staff or something?” I page through the book, sneezing at the dust that rises and catching words here and there.

“You could say that.  They’ll know what to do about the tremors.”

Bonds are mentioned often; instructions of where to go upon arrival are there, but I can read up on that later. I stop on a section “Signs to be certain” and here is where I find my symptoms listed. Strange dreams, fever, loss of consciousness. Overwhelming emotion, intense feelings of loneliness. There is nothing about earthquakes when you have nightmares or hallucinations talking back to you.

“You need to go here, Finch.” She uses my nickname, so she’s not mad anymore. “The map will show you how to get there. I only wish I had more time to prepare you, but if your gifts are already flaring”-

“Gifts?” The last thing I’m concerned about right now is presents. “What do you mean”-

She shushes me, looking around quickly with her hands over my mouth. “I can’t discuss that with you. You’re not meant to have any, so you must go as quickly as possible.”

“Nan, I can’t simply run off”-

“You can, and you will.” She taps the map. “I’ve already packed a bag for you, and you can finish preparations tonight.” Her tone says arguing is pointless. “Go straight there, follow the map. Don’t stop to speak to anyone, and tell no one outside of the family about the tremors.” She thumps my knuckles for emphasis. “No one. Do you understand?”

“Yes, ma’am.” If I didn’t know better, I would say my old governess looks frightened. But that’s forgotten with her following words. “And you’ll tell Adriana I’m not suffering her wrath.”

When I peek into my sister’s room, she’s busy sending tiny toy droids to work fixing her hideout. It takes up about a quarter of her room, a meticulously planned infrastructure of sheets and cushions. Her fort seems to have taken quite a few hits; one section caved in entirely.

Curled in one well-pillowed corner, Adriana codes out what she wants the droids to do on her hand tablet and mumbles irritably when they crash into toys and books brought down by the earthquake. If there were any doubts about whose bloodline she comes from, this would dispel them. Our family, one of the Founding Five, has overseen the scientific strides and inventions of the districts for five hundred-plus years. We’re tinkering and calculating before we’re walking.

“Permission to enter?” I ask. She scoots over and lets me crawl beside her, ducking my head under the corner that’s managed to hold up.

“Not bad, Tiny. It’s coming along nicely.” I comment, looking around.

“It still has a long way to go,” She shrugs, little fingers inputting more code. “Do you feel better now?”

And there it is.

“A little…” I shift, pretend it’s the cramped space making me squirm. “But I need to go somewhere to see what’s wrong.”

“The doctors?”

I nod.

“Kind of. Thing is-” I clear my throat, hands flexing. “The thing is, I might be gone for a while.” I force myself to keep looking at her. I won’t give myself the easy out of looking away. She puts her head on her knees, staring hard at her tablet.

“How long is a while?” She finally asks.

“I'm not sure yet,” I answer honestly. Adriana remains quiet.

“Hey,” I nudge her, “A while isn't forever. I'll be back before you know it.” I try to sound upbeat and nearly pull it off.

“You promise?” Her voice is high and trembling. I nod back solemnly.

“I swear on my entire private library.” I try to hold out my pinky, and she shakes her head. A few drops spill over onto light lashes.

“Could- could you write to me?”

“Write-”

“Like in the olden days? They wrote letters about their adventures to their loved ones so they could know everything that was going on and have stories to tell.” I nod again. She hugs me fiercely, pulling away and crawling into another tunnel, refusing to say anymore.

After a sleepless night, I head down to the garage of our compound—three rows full, a vehicle for every occasion, and then some. Only Father’s transport escalade is gone; the other cars sit pristine and waiting.

“About time. I was ready to have Anne let me in to get you up!”

I might have been startled if I had not been used to Casper’s sudden appearance. Caspian Brooks is many things, but one would never mistake him as a quiet person.

“Good morning to you too-” I walk past, Mace trotting alongside, and head towards the back of the lot to my prize. “Why are you here?”

“You’re the early bird, buddy; shouldn’t you be happy you got your worm?” He smiles brightly, clapping me on the back as our steps match up. I debate whether it’s worth it to hurl my thermos of coffee at him.

“Too early, Casper.”

He scowls, as has been his habit since the third year he received the nickname. We’d been on a field trip to the museum of past technologies. The curator showed us a short film about a young, gentle spirit. As eight-year-olds, we couldn’t help but make the comparison between a happy little ghost and our porcelain-skinned friend.

Cas never had a chance.

“Crow,” he mutters at me, throwing his bag in the back of my jeep when we reach it.

“I’m going to ignore that. Suppose you tell me why you’re here? And what’s with the bag?” I try again.

“Suppose you tell me something first?” He takes a deliberate step forward and forces me to retreat against the car. “Why didn’t you call me last night?”

“Why would I-”

 “I heard about it on the news reports. There were reports of tremors in this division of the Districts.” His head tilts, voice a harsh whip lashing at me, “Reports of the injured, some of our people in critical condition even. Do you know what I didn’t hear?” The ice blue of his eyes burns into mine, dimly lit from within.

“Cas-”

He holds up a finger in warning. “I didn’t hear reassurances from my supposed best friend that he’s still alive and well.”

“Your mother spoke with mine. I assumed she told you-“

“The words you’re looking for is “my bad, Cas; I’ll remember to send word next time.” I fear his eyebrows might fracture themselves if his face gets any darker, and so I give up trying to rationalize.

“I’m sorry. Next time, I’ll send a word, so you don’t worry.” I amend it. He nods, satisfied, and checks the trunk.  Cas takes in the foodstuffs, water, and med kits I’ve squirreled away. “Looks like we’re ready for anything.” He nods, rummaging until he finds a granola bar, and helps himself to two. “Clearly. Where are we going?” Cas tears the wrapper with his teeth and takes a noisy bite.

“I never said you could come,” I retort.

He ignores me, throwing his bag in and hopping into the passenger seat. He runs a hand through ash-blond hair, permanently falling into his eyes. His hair never stays in one place, like his mind bounces from topic to topic.

“Besides the point, we’re best friends. We don’t need words.” He takes another bite and chews while he fusses with the radio stations. “What are we listening to? Something upbeat, I hope, no falling asleep at the wheel! And I’ll tell you what, I hope you’ve got hotels mapped out because I’m not driving for hours on end. As future Chancellor of our fine Districts, I need my beauty sleep.”

“Cas-“

“Hey, remember when you didn’t tell me you weren’t dead from an earthquake?”

Mace looks up at me, either equally confused or perhaps just used to Casper’s antics.

“Knockdown,” I order. The wolf hybrid gives me another long look, then hurries into the back and offers Casper a fond lick before curling up on the backseat.

“Traitor.” The dog’s reply is to roll onto his side.

And with that thoughtful exchange, we’re on our way out.