J. Mitchell - Midnight City

“He’ll be killed,” Mira said. “No one has made it into the Tower in years.”

“It’s what he wanted, Mira. He asked me and I gave my approval as a gesture of reconciliation.” Lenore’s gaze softened. “He wished you could have gone with him. There was no one he trusted more.”

It was true: They had worked well together, had even set records for the fastest crossings of the second and third rings. Since she had known Ben, they never went into the Strange Lands without the other, and the thought of him navigating it alone made an unpleasant emptiness in her chest.

“His chances would be much better if you were there,” Lenore said, and the words resonated with Mira. “You can still go with him, Mira. You can help him, enter the Tower together, the way he always wanted. The expedition left only a few days ago. You could catch them. If not before the crossroads, then at Polestar.”

“And you would just… let me leave, Lenore?” Mira asked dubiously. “Just like that? After everything that’s happened?”

“No, Mira,” Lenore said, taking a step closer. “I am willing to do much more than that. I would give you your life back, the one I so callously took.”

Mira looked at Lenore like she had lost her mind. “You made me Unmentionable. There’s no coming back from that.”

“Your Points, I’m afraid, are lost,” Lenore said. “But the Unmentionable status can be removed.”

“But the Codex—”

“Allows for the removal of an Unmentionable brand,” Lenore said, “if the denizen belongs to a faction willing to sacrifice one-fifth of its Points as a penalty.”

Mira was speechless. The Codex was Midnight City’s constitution, its founding principles, and it was a very dense, very complicated document. It explained in exacting detail the impossibly complex Points system, as well as the city’s political structure. Mira had read it only a few times, and the one thing she had learned was that there were no absolutes in the Codex. Everything in it seemed to have a loophole. Even the loopholes had loopholes. But still, it was a steep price to pay.

“One- fifth ?” Mira asked. “That would put you below Los Lobos—it would knock you out as the Prime Mover. You don’t seriously expect me to believe that you would give up all that power, just to bring me home?”

“I’d consider it a trade,” Lenore replied. “We would get back the Points we lost and more when your artifact was no longer a rumor, when the rest of the factions knew we had it.”

And finally, there it was, the point of this whole song and dance. Mira felt her anger begin to rise. “We’ve already had this conversation.”

“No, this is different. I don’t want to use it, Mira,” Lenore responded. “You’re right: It’s too awful to even think about.”

Mira hesitated. Again, it wasn’t what she’d expected. “Then you would… let me destroy it?”

“It’s far too valuable to simply destroy. Don’t you see?”

“No, I don’t see. I must be missing something,” Mira retorted. “You don’t want to use it, but you won’t destroy it either. You can’t have everything—it’s either one or the other.”

“Think for a moment, Mira. It doesn’t have to be used to be valuable. It can be a deterrent, ” Lenore said pointedly, moving closer to her as she spoke. “I would establish that we had it, I would make sure all the factions knew the power the Gray Devils wielded… and then I would let that power simply sit, untouched and protected in the Vault, forever. Isn’t that a fair trade, a good compromise? I get what I want; you get your life back. You’ll be welcomed with open arms, watch your name be put back on the Scorewall, and that monstrosity you made will never see the light of day.”

Mira opened her mouth to speak before she realized she had no idea what to say. She had always thought the only option was to destroy her artifact. But what if Lenore meant what she said? What if she really could get her life back, a life she had come to believe was lost forever… and still have the threat of the artifact gone?

But… did she really want that life back? So much had changed for her since then.

“Your hesitation makes me hopeful,” Lenore finally said. “I’m glad you’re considering it.”

“This… isn’t something I ever thought about. It’s… I don’t know what to think,” Mira admitted. “But there’s something I don’t get. You said you would establish that the Gray Devils had it. But how could you do that without using it?”

Lenore looked away, and her mood seemed to darken. “You always think a problem through to the end, Mira. It was one of the reasons I trusted you. And why I miss you, too.” When Lenore looked back up at Mira, there was an unpleasant glint in her eyes. “You’re right, of course. We couldn’t expect the other factions to just take our word that we had the power. We would have to demonstrate it.”

Mira’s gaze turned dangerous.

“There are those who would volunteer to have your artifact used on them,” Lenore said.

“Volunteer?” Mira demanded.

“Those whose loyalty to the Gray Devils is so great, they would make the sacrifice.”

“No, Lenore,” Mira said, shaking her head in disgust.

“Just consider it, for a moment—it isn’t as insidious as it sounds. We have members who are close to Succumbing and have no desire to join a resistance group and live near a Presidium. They know they’re lost, no matter what, so why not do something in the end that matters?”

“How can that possibly matter ?” Mira asked heatedly.

“Because it’s an end with a purpose . One that profits their faction and strengthens its position! Isn’t that more meaningful than just ambiguously disappearing into the wilderness to lose their minds?”

Mira sighed, closed her eyes, turned away.

“Just once, Mira,” Lenore assured her. “Only once. Isn’t it worth the one time, for all the good that will come from it?”

Mira was silent a long moment, and Lenore said nothing further. She had made her argument, and it was Mira’s decision now. She would be lying if she said the proposal didn’t make sense on some levels, or that a part of her didn’t want her old life back. She and Ben could navigate the core together, and as hazardous as it was, she knew that if they worked together, they could beat it. They could see the Severed Tower.

But everything in Lenore’s scenario was at the mercy of one thing, and it was that one thing that Mira knew would be the failing of anyone with access to the artifact she had created: human nature.

“You say ‘just once,’ Lenore,” Mira finally replied. “Just once. And I think you really do believe it. But you and I both know Midnight City has a short memory. The factions will be intimidated for a while, your Points will go up. But it won’t last. The others will forget, eventually. The fear will fade—it always does. And the Points you earned from the artifact will start to drop.” Mira slowly turned back around to look at Lenore, held her gaze without trepidation now. “I know you, Lenore—you won’t let that stand. Not when the Points start to circle the drain, not you. You’ll use it a second time. And it’ll be the same justification: just one more. But when you’ve done something twice, three times doesn’t seem so awful anymore. Four seems even less. Five. Six. Another enemy who could just disappear. Another rival it would be nice to no longer have to worry about. I’m sorry, Lenore, but I don’t think you have the strength not to use it. I’m not sure anyone does.”

As Mira spoke, Lenore’s glare slowly turned darker, but she remained quiet throughout.