Ve'Rah Daa (The Ephemeral: Book 3)

Chapter 30

On cue, Valerie, Jackson, and Torian emerged from the jury room, each of them pushing wheelbarrows of fragile library books, dusty magazines, and faded scrolls into the chamber—and bringing with them the most damming evidence in my armory.

My comrades stared at the spectacle in confusion, and so did the majority of Ellsians in the room. Even Aimes didn't seem to know what was going on, apparently too young and progressive to be entrusted with the nation's secret. But his elders gave themselves away. The politicians who recognized the dusty collection hunkered down in the corner of the room—as pale and rigid as the giant walls of Havenbrooke.

"In these texts, you'll find records of our nation's history," I explained. "And what's more—the history of the Ancients, which has been withheld from the public since our country's inception."

The context elicited a whir of gasps and inquisitive murmurs from the crowd, and my friends wheeled the dirty carts down every aisle of the gallery, handing out the most resilient and condemning texts we could find. Then, to prevent a debate over legitimacy—a diversion Bittercress was bound to enact at any moment—they encouraged the attendees to inspect the artifacts, get a good whiff of their musty stench, and pass them around.

Children looked between their parents and the gift-bearers in awe, their gazes latching onto Valerie and her fairy-like appearance, transfixed by her bow and arrow. Meanwhile, the older citizens handled the documents like they might explode in their laps, flipping through photographs and chapter titles with a reverent grace. They only glanced up from the faded copy to glare at the High Court, then transferred the evidence to fresh eyes.

In minutes, the truth spread through the room like a virus, and I welcomed the modern plague.

"These documents describe how and when the world fell, and what actually brought on the Crash," I continued, fighting a smile as the justices writhed in distress.

Today, I'd deliver the truth to those duped by the deceitful shadows of the cave. Today, I'd thrust my people into the sunlight, even if it blinded them.

"They discuss the greed and power of the upper class, and those who suffered under their reign. They tell stories of coeducation and love without gender." I pushed off the table to pace the room, gliding on the high of righteousness. "Stories of women advancing in all trades and ruling entire nations. Even fighting on the frontlines and winning wars. Women with the freedom to choose their partners or rightfully deny a life of motherhood." My gaze slid from wide-eyed children to the fidgety High Court. "Histories that depict true freedom and liberty; freedoms we've never known."

Siren watched me with a devilish smile, angered by the revelation but thrilled with my performance. Rover, in contrast, looked more contemplative than entertained. He now understood the gravity of what I'd discovered in that bunker—and the structural crack I'd just left on the bridge of this republic.

"And where did I find these texts, you might wonder?" I asked, a healthy dash of mockery in my tone.

Sideburns stumbled forward in a panic, freed from his spell of astonishment. "Miss Kingsley—"

"I found them in a bunker beneath this very courthouse. A bunker built to accommodate a small city, and one which harbors foreign technology, an indoor garden space, and a prohibited library."

As the crowd's quiet grumbling rose in volume, Sideburns halted in his path to stare at me, and he'd never looked so horrified.

"And you know what I saw when I touched those documents? When I brushed my hand against the broken keys of that computer?" The attendees paused in their book-skimming to listen, trusting in my divulgence, and I inhaled deeply, scanning the room and absorbing it all—just before ripping their blindfolds off.  "I saw swarms of rich, selfish people burrowing underground because their greed and inaction made the planet inhospitable."