A Sneak Peek - The Memory Of Stars

I’m thrilled to share the first three chapters of my upcoming novel, The Memory Of Stars. This story explores a world where data is failing, memories are slipping, and the truth is buried beneath the sands of a dying Egypt.

I’d love to hear your theories and thoughts in the comments below. The first draft is done, currently more that 68k words. Support this project and pre-order today - http://www.amazon.com/exec/obidos/ASIN/B0GQQFJ7GQ

© 2026 A. Parry. All Rights Reserved. This is original material and may not be reproduced without permission.

Chapter One

The plane wheels slammed onto the tarmac. Plumes of sand and superheated air blasted behind the speeding hyper-jet. Shards of rubber smacked into the fuselage and delta-wing, each hit echoing violently inside the metal shell.

Mara gripped the armrest with all her strength, but the jolt threw her forward anyway. A drink she’d left unsecured tumbled from the tray, and a wave of red wine soaked into her favorite jacket, a dark, aggressive stain that spread across the fabric like a premonition.

“Damn it – paper towel,” she said. “Now!”

Her assistant reacted immediately, fumbling and already apologizing.

The stain spread fast, an ink-dark blotch claiming the fabric of her new coat. Outside, the hyperplane taxied toward a crumbling gate, its chrome body reflecting the decay of the airport like a distorted mirror. A hiss of pressure equalized the air, followed by a heavy thud of stairs hitting the floor. The Egyptian sun blazed into the cabin, instantly scorching the air, while beyond the terminal, the skyline shimmered and wavered like a fading mirage. Elin, Mara’s assistant, was busy trying to blot her jacket.

“We don’t have time for this,” Mara said as she stood and stepped out of the luxury seat. “Elin, please can you grab our luggage?”

“You’re leaving this here?” Elin held up the sad, stained coat. 

Elin, a smaller, younger woman, stood with the garment held firmly away from her. She had just washed her long blonde hair and was not about to let Mara's mistake stain her body.

“Yes, thank you. I’ll get a new one when we get home,” Mara said, as she turned and made for the door.

Mara carefully stepped down the burning steps onto the ground. 

The air stifled her breath as she turned back to Elin, “How did you find your first flight?”

“Amazing, thank you, Mrs. Ward,” Elin said. “My father always told me stories from his piloting days.”

“You certainly have a lot to thank your father for, darling.” Mara smiled. “And please, you can call me Mara. Mrs. Ward sounds like my mother.”

Why can't I remember her father? I spoke to him the other day; it may have been Edward, Mara thought as she strode into the abandoned terminal.

The airport was a skeleton of its former self. Dust-caked rails and boarded-up kiosks still haunted the vast, empty interconnected buildings. There were no other people in sight. Not even a trace of footprints could be seen on the broken tiles. It was as though time itself had forgotten this place. 

Elin’s eyes darted from right to left, taking it all in, “It’s true then? All of this is true?” 

“Yes, you didn’t believe the news?”

“Who does, right?” Elin laughed.

“You’ve got me there. It's all fake anyway,” Mara said, as she readjusted the oversized backpack. “Quiet now.”

Their footsteps echoed on the tiled floor. The boarded-up and dilapidated shops sent shivers down both of the women's spines. This was not like the America they left behind. Each dark corner sent a rush of adrenaline through them. Cracks of daylight blazed beams through the darkness. Mara hovered her hands above her holster. She watched the shadows dance with the breeze. As they progressed, a subtle wrongness crept into Mara’s mind. She altered her pace and heard a footstep that was out of beat. Before she could react, a group of children sprinted up to Mara from the darkness, arms outstretched. 

Their laughter bounced around the terminal like a drum. She couldn't keep track of any one of them, “I’m sorry, I don’t have money–”

A child grabbed Mara’s arm. Then another small child yanked at her other hand. She pulled back and forth, they were like hungry insects buzzing around her, searching for anything of value, anything to take back to their nest. One of the children kicked her shin.

“Hey, stop!” She said, as she yanked back hard, the force sent her gold watch flying. It landed with a crack on the ground.

Elin was a little further behind, shielding their dropped packs. She was fumbling through hers for something, anything, to deter the scavengers. Her hands wrapped around a cold metal canister. Just as she pulled it out, a voice called from the distance in a muffled and foreign tongue. Suddenly, the terminal went quiet. Elin could hear her heart race. The rabid children immediately stopped and sprinted back into the shadows. Their muffled laughter still haunted the humid air.

“Mrs. Ward! Are you alright?” Elin said, still holding the can of deodorant. What she was planning to do with it, she wasn't sure. 

“Nothing I can’t handle.” Mara flustered, straightening her top.

She looked around her, checking that the children were gone. She lifted her empty wrist with sadness. The gold watch from her mother had cracked. Its face and hands were still visible. I'm sure Edward can repair this when I get home. She picked it up and put it in her pack.

“Lord, I heard this place was dangerous, but children?” Elin said, trying to shrug off her fear. 

“I don’t think that’ll be the last. We’ll find a restroom near the exit and gear up,” Mara said. “I’d prefer not to wear it a moment longer than we need to. But it appears we should have considered it sooner.”

Mara and Elin fast-walked through the terminal. The map downloaded to their arm-mounted digi-pads displayed the rough route they needed to take. Deep in the depths of the building, they wound through a web of stairs and tunnels until finally, they entered a flickering corridor. Beyond that was their destination, a set of large restrooms and changing facilities.

They emerged many minutes later, better equipped for their journey ahead. Their old, baggy khaki cargo trousers perfectly concealed the newer modern items underneath.

“Comms check,” Mara commanded.

“I read you loud and clear, Ma’am.”

“Good, we are meeting someone. I’ll send you the subway map.”

“We’re walking?! I thought we didn’t have time,” Elin said, not excited for the journey any longer.

“I factored this in; we have time.”

Elin’s datapad bleeped. She looked at the subway map and dreaded the walk to Giza. Mara caught her wide-eyed stare.

“Don’t look so glum, it’s safer than walking the streets,” Mara said, adjusting the headset on her head.

Elin was busy comparing the maps to her image; her fingers traced the glowing lines of the Cairo subway system.

“A day’s walk in these tunnels? Are you sure the trains are gone?”

Mara didn’t answer. She donned her oversized backpack and trundled down the stairs toward the terminal’s station.

Elin watched the satellite signal on her wrist-mounted tablet fade as they descended into the darkness. She flicked a headpiece down over her eyes, and the world became shades of green and grey. The eyepiece perfectly fit her thin face. But she could see Mara was still constantly adjusting hers. Each step they walked kicked up what seemed like centuries of dust. The smell of old rusty iron was becoming overpowering.

Elin stood for a moment; her legs unsettled in the dark, daylight behind her. It was like looking down the barrel of a gun. The lightless path ahead seemed to grow and shift; she couldn't turn her gaze away. Shapes seemed to move in the shadows.

“How is your father these days? Still recovering well?” Mara said, sensing Elin’s trepidation.

“Yes, he’s doing fine now. The state provides for him well,” Elin said, her voice softening. “He has good and bad days.”

“Ha, don’t we all. I was sorry to hear what happened to him.”

“Not as sorry as mum,” Elin quietly whispered.

“We could have them transferred to the bunker? There's space next to your room,” Mara asked. 

Elin smiled gratefully. Mara had been so generous in providing her with a grand space to live beneath her mansion. The Crypt, she called it. She didn't ask too many questions, but it certainly felt like a place for the dead. 

Mara put a hand out, and they walked together for a while, holding each other in the silent gloom of the abandoned Cairo subway.

After a few hours, they were directly beneath the city proper. The pair had made good time. They passed through ruins and long-abandoned dwellings, the air reeking of stale waste. I dread to think what the surface is like, Mara thought. She tapped her digi-pad and checked her vitals.  

“Let’s take a breather.”

Their backpacks simultaneously hit the ground. A cloud of dirt and soot billowed into the air. The tunnel they were in was a branching sprawl of tracks. Multiple converging lines made a wide, open and dark space. Tactically, it gave them the best views down each path. They sat in silence for a moment, drips caused echoes that almost sounded like footsteps. 

Elin sat uncomfortably as she forced down a nutrient bar and looked in horror at the piles of animal skeletons littering the tracks.  

“I can’t believe –”

An electrical pulse sound broke Elin’s words. A reverberating twang of high voltage was followed by a growing rumble.

“Hide!” Mara called out with urgent, quiet care. 

The track itself shook with energy. The gravel beneath the grime rattled. The pair stood quicker than their bodies would normally allow. They grabbed their packs and tossed them up a nearby overhang.  

Mara jumped, heat and pressure warnings on her digipad flared more than they should have. She caught the railing late and slammed into the brick gangway. 

Elin soon followed cleanly. Of course, Mara thought. The pressure in her suit was reading low. They flattened themselves against the stone. 

Light flooded the grim darkness from the west. The low rumbling, like constant thunder and the occasional metallic screech, deafened Mara and Elin. Mara had the best view; her right eye was just above the lip of concrete. A heavy, haphazard and dilapidated train rolled past at a sluggish pace as if to scour for signs of life. The exterior of the train was covered in rusted sheet metal and spikes. A long metal scoop sat on the front, hanging just above the rails. 

Mara’s chest pounded with every deep and dust-filled breath. With her vision enhanced, she made out the shapes of a few men armed with machine guns from a forgotten war. Their bone-adorned garments clattered against their backs.

The broken train rumbled past. Elin raised her head just as Mara swiftly held it down. Her finger pressed on her lips, and she locked eyes with her young assistant. The trouble had not passed.

Behind the train was a procession of men. Armed with pipes and spiked bats. One carried something heavy that dragged across the wooden sleepers. Mara wasn't expecting so much activity down here. Once the sounds and light faded, the two gingerly stood back up.

“I still think the tunnels are safer than the surface,” Mara said coolly. 

She checked her supplies; water coolant levels were running low – batteries at 70%. 

“We need to keep moving, or we’ll run out of power. We should pick up our pace.”

The grime and darkness continued on for miles, the pair following the green lines on their digi-pads, hoping that their landmark checkpoints were right. Elin could feel the path incline, then finally, the tunnels gave way to the open air.

The hot smell of rust and sand greeted Mara and Elin. The fresh air was a welcome palate cleanser that made them both realize how foul the subway system was. Above them, twilight skies of purple and orange were beginning to reveal the flickering stars behind.

“I’d forgotten what a clear night looks like.” Mara said, bathing herself in the moon's soft glow. “I'm glad your father persuaded me to have you join, we used to love sitting together on nights like this. I wouldn't want to have been down there alone.”

Elin nodded, when the screen on her wrist flashed.

“Signal received. We’re ten minutes out from our contact,” Elin said with renewed vigour.

The silent city of Cairo hung in the darkness behind them. Ahead, Giza and the ancient wonders waited for them on the horizon. Their triangular silhouettes pointed to the heavens and the stars beyond.

Chapter Two

Ally was seventeen when he first arrived in Cairo. He had lost track of the days since they arrived. His mind had forgotten why they even came at all. Nobody ventured into these forsaken lands without cause. It was long known in the north that only ruins remained since global temperatures and war had turned Egypt into a wasteland.

“Hey, snake,” a young man’s voice bounced across the hollow sandstone homes.

“Don’t call me that,” Ally said, tiredly. “I’m telling the Masar.”

“Go on, I’ll tell everyone what you really are, snake,” the boy laughed. “You taint our bloodline with every breath.” 

A swift rock clipped Ally’s temple. Stars of light raced across his retina.  “They’ll take your hands this time when I tell the Masar it was you, Ramah,” Ally cried. “We don’t have to always fight like this!” 

“Give back what you took, and this whole problem goes away,” Ramah spat, his voice bouncing from the dark corners of ruined buildings. 

Ally brushed his long hair out of his eyes, sweat dripping from every dark brown curl. He clutched his satchel tight. Ramah could be so sneaky when he wanted to be.

“No! You’ll just have them all for yourself; we have to share now,” Ally said, listening intently for any sign of sight or sound.

“These aren’t our people! Have you forgotten our family?” Ramah’s voice sounded as though it were coming from every direction. 

Ally was fed up; he ran as fast as his worn sandals could take him. The rubble-strewn streets didn’t slow him down. He skirted around craters and long-abandoned vehicles. A strange and familiar armoured tank marked his location, its still bright white star emblem pointed Ally towards his new home. 

He lost sense of where Ramah might be as he ducked through broken buildings and dived under fallen street signs. Finally, he found himself in familiar territory, clutching the satchel as it smacked and bruised his thigh. The cleaner street ahead was a haze of heat, and the still-standing hotel hung on the horizon to the west. With the end in sight, he stopped to take shelter and heaved to catch his breath.

Blood oozed from the wound on his temple. Ally tentatively surveyed the room. He could have sworn he’d hidden here before the last time he followed Ramah on one of his scavenger hunts. Broken gray furniture gave a hint at the modern lives that people had once lived here. Everything changed when the US began to take the Middle East by force. Not that Ally was old enough to remember, but he had just heard the stories from the Masar. He stowed the bloody rag in the satchel; his mouth watered at the sight of the sealed tins nestled inside. A tempting hand ran across the frayed labels. No, these are not for me…

The early morning sun was burning the streets as Ally stuck his head out of the doorway. The path looked clear. Clutching his satchel, he took a step out. Then, suddenly, he heard muffled running steps approach, but it was too late to pull himself back.

A crack of Ramah’s fist sent him to the ground. His satchel went flying across the faded wooden floor. Ally scrambled across the ground to his pack and pulled out a rusted, curved dagger. The cracked royal stone in the hilt was sharp on his tight palm. 

“Going to chop off my hand yourself?” Ramah’s lips curled.

“Y– You’ll pay…”

The wind kicked up a hot wave of sand as the pair stared each other down.

“What will he pay for?” An older man’s voice bellowed. 

A tall man with a long beard approached. An entourage of guards flashed gold with their pristine robes. The two teenage men bowed instantly. Father, forgive me, Ally thought, but he forgot why he resented the bow.

“Speak, Son,” the concealed face squinted at Ally. “Now! Or you’ll be fetching water from the tunnels again.”

“Yes, Masar,” Ally said. “Ramah, he found something in the city.”

Ally grabbed his bag and presented it to the tall man. The man quickly found the tin cans and pulled them out.

“This is for our people. Your people,” the Masar said. “You are one of us now. Unless you want me to send you both back to Jerusalem."

“No,” Ally and Ramah both said fast.

“Then, my children. You are under my light. May it shine on your memories.”

“May the light guide us.” The boys said together.

The Masar took each boy at either side and walked them towards the hotel across the dry Nile. The convoy of guards remained vigilant. Ramah locked eyes with Ally from behind his back. A fast swipe struck Ramah across the back of his head. 

The early morning sun was climbing as the trio made their tracks across the riverbed. Shouts and engine revs from the north made the guards pause. They formed a barrier around the Masar, who clutched onto Ramah and Ally. Through the shoulders of the armed guards, Ally could see multiple plumes of sand and silt being thrown into the air. Specks on the horizon were growing larger.

“Bonemen!” A guard called out as the flank of men crouched to take aim. 

The five converted motorbikes were getting closer. Their front skis were sliding erratically on the ground. Atop each one were men draped in skulls and bones. Makeshift pipe weapons were pointing at the group. 

“Go! Get to the hotel,” the tall, dark-skinned guard shouted. His scarred eye and face made Ally leap into action.

The Masar and the two boys ran as an eruption of gunshots clapped through the dry air. Black smoke rose, and one of the bikes tumbled and burned into another. Ramah didn’t have time to gawp. They quickly clambered up the slope and sprinted towards the ruined hotel. More guards spilled out of the door as they approached, heading to back up their comrades. A muted boom shook the glass doors as they entered. The sounds of gunfire faded outside.  

Inside the faded haven, cracked tiles greeted their weary, worn feet. Men and women were scurrying on the mezzanine above. They stopped and bowed slightly as the Masar entered. Hushed whispers returned as people went about their business. Above them, rows of makeshift market stalls sold hand-made goods and tarnished wares. 

The Masar led them to a corner of the vast ground-floor foyer. A semi-circle of guards stood facing out, not that anyone would dare approach. Ally remembered being here before, the last time he chased after Ramah and got them into trouble. I can’t take any more of this. He looked towards the light beyond the guards. The door beyond clattered open. Muffled laughter gave him a little comfort. Another victory for the guards, he thought. That normally meant more drinking and shouting later. 

“Now, wait here, there’s someone eager to meet you,” the Masar said as he tied them each to a chair. “And when I get back, you will bathe in the memory of light.”

Ally’s missing finger twitched; he remembered what the Masar’s light felt like.

The patter of the old man’s feet faded out of view. The contingent of guards followed him like migrating birds. Ramah began to panic in his chair. The wood scraped and gouged at the floor. He could never take the pain.

“They’re going to hear you!” Ally hushed.

“He’s going to take more than your finger this time.” Ramah scowled. “I won’t let them hurt you again!”

“Didn’t know you cared.” Ally looked at his scarred hand. “Get us out of here. Like before.”

“Why, so you can pocket my food again?” Ramah scowled. “Let’s run–”

“No, brother. We can’t, they’ll find us again.”

“Then I’m running without you; you should stay back, as I told you,” Ramah said as he shuffled in his bindings and pulled out a jewelled blade from his sleeve. 

“Please, my brother, my blood, please don’t, we’ll find another way to America,” Ally said, anxiously watching for the Masar’s return.

Footsteps from the tall, wide-framed guard approached. His half-shut eyes washed over the pair. Curiously, he didn’t lash out at them for talking. Nor did he react on seeing Ramah trying to hide a blade in his bound hands. 

“Psst,” Ally desperately called.

The Masar, gowned in the ceremonial red and white robe, reappeared with a strange light-skinned man in tow. A brown and black leather jacket was lined with buckles all around. The tassels made it look like he had many long limbs on each side. His silver-white hair mismatched his otherwise youthful face. 

“My children, it’s your lucky day.” The Masar announced.

The silence in the large foyer was broken. Ramah dropped his curved blade to the floor. The ornate hilt bounced. The gem burst apart, sending fragments that skittered in all directions. Ally looked in horror, his own twin knife patiently waiting in his pocket.

“Careful what you wish for, Ramah,” the Masar said. “May the light shine on your journey.”

The grand old man gestured to the out-of-place traveller. The wild man smiled knowingly as he lifted the boy’s packs onto his shoulders.

“This is your new keeper. He’s travelled far to meet you.”

The tall man’s hand reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a long-barreled gun. 

“Hold out your hand,” the man said to Ally with an accent he had never heard before.  

Ally shut his eyes as the man grabbed him. He felt a surge of pressure in his wrist as something entered his arm. His shouts of pain rippled back broken across the wide hall. Ramah was next and couldn’t contain his screams.

“Tracers, you know what that means?” the man said as the pair calmed down.

The boys shook their heads. 

“It means you’re mine now. If you run, then it's lights out," he said, his strange accent that shifted with every word.

Chapter Three

A surge of wind offered a brief, cooling respite from the mid-morning glare. The Captain’s heavy leather jacket, lined with internal cooling systems, laboured to keep the desert heat at bay. He paused to tie back his shock of white hair, winding a damp cloth around his brow as a temporary shield. The walk to the station was short, but the silence of the streets was heavy. He wouldn’t have to wait long; the haze in the distance revealed the expected arrivals. 

“You're late, ladies,” Arthur, the stranger, called out to the two stumbling women who were caked in grime. 

Mara could sense he was amused by the sight. She peeled the goggles away from her face and squinted into the raw daylight. 

“The Captain, is it?” Mara said, patting the sand away from her legs, her fingers catching a tear in her cargo trousers. 

The man nodded with a vulgar wink. 

“Haha, shoulda taken the streets,” he smirked. “Didn't ya know those tunnels are bad?”

Mara scowled at him, measuring her response. What is wrong with his face? She thought as she noticed his expressions were a little off. 

“Seemed safe to us,” she lied. 

“Sure thing, darlin',” he said with a sideways smile.

Elin stepped forward, having finished dusting herself off. “What are you doing with those two?” She gestured at the two young men behind him. Both wore ragged robes of an Archivist conscript. She tilted her head. One of them had a patch of dried blood matted into his dark curls. The young man was striking, even under a layer of grit. His blue eyes were a sharp contrast to his olive skin, and they were fixed right on her.

“Don't you mind these? They're our ticket to the archives,” he flicked a cigarette butt at Ramah. “And if you wanna get there before we turn into burnt vulture food, we'd better get a move on.”

“I don't like this, Mara,” Elin whispered. Mara was still busy trying to remove her sweat-drenched trousers. 

“I'm sorry, I should have warned you,” Mara said to her, and she turned to the stranger. “Captain, will you guarantee these boys won't be harmed?”

“I'll guarantee I won't harm them, that good enough for ya?”

Elin nodded with a sad frown. She, too, began to remove her trousers. He’s not even looking at me, what a strange man, she thought.

“Yes,” Mara stated. “That will have to do.”

The group trekked west in silence, pausing often for water and the brief respite of shade. Every few minutes, Elin caught the boys staring. It feels like they know me, she thought. It wasn't a new sensation, but unlike the men back home, these two didn't bother to hide it. What bothered her more was the Captain. He hadn't so much as glanced her way. Maybe he doesn’t like women, she thought, though he didn't look the type to be indifferent to anything.

“Excuse me,” Elin called to the young man with the curly brown hair. “You with the cut head.”

Ally turned his head, fully locked with his piercing blue eyes. 

“Do you understand me?” 

She spotted a nod.

“Are you–”

“Miss, I'd very much appreciate it if you would stop that.” The captain said as he flared his jacket. A glint of silver flashed in the desert sun. 

Elin took the hint and kept moving, her mind racing with every step. Were they really trading human lives out here? She didn’t want to believe it, but she’d heard the whispers among the researchers back in the Crypt. There were stories of escapees from the Middle East; slaves who spent their lives in dark cells, hand-copying ancient texts for the Archivists until their eyes or hands failed. 

“Just forget them, we can't save everyone,” Mara said soothingly, sensing Elin’s quiet contemplation. 

“You expect trouble, Captain?” Mara asked.

“Doubtful, the bonemen only come out in force at night. Those light lovers usually take care of them.” 

Light lovers? Mara thought.

“Ya know, the Masari, the light lovers,” the Captain said as if to read her mind.

“And the rogue archivists?” She asked. “Oh, the boys, of course...”

“Now you're gettin’ it. So there are some brains behind those tired eyes.”

Her fingers found the edges of her handgun. What do we need this idiot for anyway?

“Now, now, I didn't mean anything by it. Don't go startin’ summit you can't finish.”

Silence stretched between them as they slowly moved across a horizon that had long forgotten the Giza of old. The barren earth gave way without warning when Elin’s boot snapped a nearly invisible glass fibre. She swatted at the tether, but the strand pulled taut, hoisting a shimmering curtain of sand into the air. Ahead, the desert floor was a graveyard of high wooden stakes and tangled netting, the posts scarred by scorch marks and deep, violent divots.

“Look,” Elin said. “What are all these strings and nets?” 

“Drones, tethers and defence nets,” Mara answered. 

“A bit outdated, isn’t it? War?” 

“That's what happens when you leave the Archivist order. You have to defend yourself somehow. Or so they’d have you believe,” the Captain said.

The group passed under the 10ft high suspended mesh, above were hundreds of thin fibre optic cables like a gigantic spider’s web across the city's outer limits. 

“We're in their sands now,” the Captain said. 

“Watch out for the sounds of engines. They ride up and down here. Look,” he pointed at parallel skid-like tracks going south.

Elin didn’t listen; she couldn’t take her eyes off the pyramids beyond the mesh of nets. Their splendour and size were even more impressive in person. She lifted her arm and snapped a quick image from her digi-pad. The city behind them caught her eye in the tablet’s reflection. Broken spires and half-fallen buildings made her turn and stare.

“Was all this destruction from the US, the Archivists?” Elin asked.

“Duh, do you know nothing? Did you not learn that at school?" The Captain said smugly. “But I'd keep a lid on those questions for now. They have their eyes everywhere.”

When she came to think of it, Elin couldn't really remember her school days. Growing up in a military family meant moving all the time. Her early life was a blur. The strange landscape was not what she'd envisioned when she left home. Nothing here matched any expectation or report, no mention of the bonemen, the Masari. Maybe it's all a conspiracy… And, she couldn't stop looking at those two poor boys. Dragged unwillingly into a world they had no idea they were about to enter. 

“There must be something else we can bargain with for entry.” Elin pleaded with the Captain.

“You willing to work for the archivists? They’d love a pretty young thing like you.”

Elin looked shocked, not from his comment, but from his shifting personality. The untimely smiles were like a single note in a song played off tune.

“You're out of line, Captain,” Mara had brandished her concealed gun and pointed it at his head. “I've had enough of this.”

Everyone stopped.

“Easy there, lady. This ain't no place to be quarrelin.”

“What do we need you for anyway?” Mara snapped.

“You'll see soon enough, red.”

Mara hated nicknames, especially ones relating to her hair. She caught a shimmer in the corner of her eye. A fibre of glass refracting the gleaming sunlight high up above.

“Now look what you've done,” the Captain said, dropping his weapons. “Do the same, drop it, now!”

Mara and Elin reluctantly followed his lead. The buzzing in the air grew louder as the large drone descended and hovered nearby. 

The drones' spider-like eyes seemed to twitch on them all. A small munitions rack pointed in their direction. A red light scanned and twinkled as it moved across their faces.

“State your business,” a muffled voice called loudly from the drone.

“Exchange,” the Captain called.

“Designation?”

“Captain, ADR-5055.”

There was a short delay. Their goal was so close now. Please let this work. Mara prayed, slightly thankful she didn’t pull the trigger on the Captain. The moment lasted far longer than she liked. All the while, the weapons never stopped panning between them all. 

“You have it?” A different older voice called out from the flying machine.

“Yes,” the Captain could feel the presence of his prize in one of the boy’s packs. 

“Welcome back, Captain McNally. Exchange accepted.” The drone sped off south towards the sphinx.

Elin gave Mara a knowing smile. The reprieve momentarily helped them forget the unbearable heat and sand in their shoes.

“We ain't outta the woods yet,” the Captain said.

In the confusion and moment of quiet relief, one of the young boys ran. Hands tied behind his back. The shorter, stockier boy was fast. He tried to slide out of sight behind a rocky outcrop, but the Captain noticed.

“Mother Mary,” the Captain lifted his arm and tapped a command into his wrist-mounted tablet.

“Ramah, no!” Ally shouted. 

Mara, Elin, and Ally watched in horror as Ramah’s body convulsed, his head smacking the sand hard. 

“Nobody fucking moves,” said the Captain, looking directly at Mara. “The kid’ll be fine.”

He trudged slowly towards Ramah, then picked up his feet and began to drag him towards the checkpoint. The netting rose slightly to cover the small modern gate system that barred entry to the land around the pyramids and the sphinx. 

“Hand please,” a suited figure said from behind a frosted window.

The Captain held out his arm. A vaguely circular raised scar on his hand flared green. 

“Cleared,” the guard said. “You, come forward, state your full name and scan your ID.”

“Sam Williams,” Mara said. 

A burning emblem was etched into the top of her hand. She nodded to Elin with a reassuring smile.

“Cleared. Next.”

“Claire Oberdon,” Elin stated while passing her fake ID.

“Cleared. You may proceed.”

The spiked metal gates opened to reveal a green and vibrant landscape. The guardsman exited the office and approached Captain McNally. “Exile, you are to report to the Grand Maester immediately. We’ll take these two and vet them. You and your friends have 24 hours.”

The captain nodded. He started to walk away as though the others weren’t there. Behind him, everyone in the compound seemed to carry on with their day. Everyone almost looked the same, dressed and draped in simple white garments. 

“Well, this is us for now. I’ll meet you back here tomorrow evening. That’s your lot, I’m afraid,” the Captain walked away. 

A tall man wearing a full-faced mask stood ready to escort the rest of the group.

“Excuse me, I was told we’d be guided into the archives? We’re ready to go now,” Mara asked the guard politely.

“This way then, Mrs. Williams,” the guard said.

“What will happen to the boys?” Elin asked the guard.

“They will be put to work.” 

“What kind of work?”

Mara frowned at her ignorance. She knew what fate would greet them. An unfortunate but necessary task. All Archivists, even these rebels, couldn't deny that the eternal, endless copying was essential. Things were getting worse, though. Mara would prove it. She had to prove it. Q

“Copyrighting, I expect. Why? Do you want to join them? Don’t have writers back home?" The Guard almost lost his stride.

“Well… Yes, I mean, no. I just wondered. They are my friends.”

The boys looked at her, both of them not totally sure if they heard her correctly. 

“Of course, Miss, we’ll be sure to take good care of them.”

Elin winked at Ally as another two guards came and picked up Ramah, taking them both in the opposite direction. She figured that they seemed to be heading for the other side of the large sphinx. I'll remember that when we bust out of here…

The guard was a few paces in front, leading them deeper into the compound. 

“I see why they have so much security,” Elin said in awe. “This place is like a forest.”

The lush gardens stood in stark contrast to the desert beyond. Workers swarmed like drones around each field, tending to every plant like they were nursing an egg. Strange amber coloured fruit hung head height from many branches. The overall compound was shielded from the worst of the sun. Giant translucent umbrellas offered enough protection from the daylight whilst still providing essential nutrients to the plantations below.   

“This place is special, alright. But this isn’t the US archives. Remember that.” Mara reminded her.

“Hold your hand here like this,” the guard said and showed them how to open the door. 

The cool glass door hissed open, and a blast of fresh, chilled air instantly hit both women, who welcomed the breeze and clean, fresh scent of air.

“Use the restrooms provided to change, please. You will not need your thermo suits here.” 

Elin turned to Mara as they walked away, “How did they know what these are?” 

The guard, who clearly heard, smiled and showed them his digi-pad. “Don’t have this back home either?”

Elin’s face went bright red. Her full figure and form were on display in the colors of red and yellow.

“Perverts,” she growled.

Mara scowled at her. “Let’s get changed.”

They locked their gear into their backpacks and donned the plain white robes provided. They then donned the ceremonial blue waistcoat, a marker of status for any Archivist, even rebel groups.

“This blue makes my red hair look terrible,” Mara said.

Elin laughed. “Yeah, well, look at this.” She pinched her stomach. “Not leaving much to the imagination now, is it?”

The pair met back up with their escort. After a quick scan, the guard nodded and opened a metal security door. Beyond, lights flickered on as they entered. The corridor led them down a modern set of stairs. They descended until the tunnel bottomed out onto a sandstone floor. 

“Wow, look at this,” Elin pointed at the image on the wall. “Look, we’re right beneath the Sphinx’s paw.”

A glass door buzzed open, and a rush of cool, dry air escaped. 

“This is incredible. Is it really the lost library of ancient myth?”

“So they believe,” Mara said. “We won't have long here, they will expect us to deposit this fake scroll and leave quickly.”

Elin switched to a hushed whisper, “So, what are we looking for?”

“The oldest section, scrolls, parchments, anything that looks ancient. I’ll know it when I see it. Set your pad to record.”

Mara checked her digi-pad, scanning her notes. Copies of hand-drawn maps and scrawled ink writing helped guide her.

“This way.”

The chamber was vast and layered. Rows of shelves stretched into the shadows further than the eye could see. 

Mara scanned the shelves. As they progressed deeper, the artifacts were visibly older. 

Rows of once-ancient parchments lay untouched. But many were blank. Others had letters and symbols that blurred and shifted under their gaze, like words slipping through their fingers.

Mara reached out to a brittle scroll with her gloved hand, and it crumbled to dust before she could unroll it. 

“What the hell is this…”

Elin scanned another nearby, but the digi-pad flickered, revealing nothing but static and empty frames. 

“I could have sworn I saw words on that one.”

A wave of nausea crashed over her mind. A message flashed on Elin’s arm:

> Memory low

She checked her digi-pad; the screen fuzzed and flickered. She tapped it repeatedly, “Wait, what? It’s only 40% full. What is yours saying?” 

“Also full, we’re missing something, just like what I found back home.”

“It’s like the knowledge is... forgotten, erased,” Elin said quietly, voice barely above a whisper. But then what just consumed all of the storage? Why the warning?

Mara’s fingers tightened on her pad. “Not just missing. Erased. Or maybe... never recorded at all.”

A sudden chill traced down her spine. The air pressed against her thoughts, as if the archive was resisting them. The pressure caused her to begin to feel a familiar sickness. 

“This is precisely what I feared; if this doesn’t prove my theory, then nothing will,” Mara muttered. “I have a feeling this is beyond the Maester’s handiwork.”

Elin swallowed. “I’ve got it on camera, Ma– Sam.”

Mara quickly withdrew the fake scroll she was supposed to gift them and casually tossed it onto a shelf.

“Good, back it up and send it home as soon as we leave. I don’t want to lose any more evidence.”

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