He led her past the petaled walls of the city and along a winding pathway, into the marble ruin that had once been Manipura. The dead Sun Queen’s tribute to the heavens was mutilated and clotted with dry ash, softly moldering like marzipan. Broken bits of gemstones were crumbled into the dust beneath their feet, kicked up into a colored wind.
“Show them your palms,” Isa urged, stopping in the center of the structure. He stretched out his own hands before him.
“Show who?” Ilana wondered, peering into the dark. But before she could ask anything more, two figures strode forward from the dark, their guns trained on Ilana and Isa’s foreheads. The sun-girl hastily copied Isa’s posture, tipping her palms up.
“Are you sightless or are you resistance?”
“Resistance,” was Isa’s emphatic answer. “
