In a world where everyone is Good—unable to steal, lie and kill—Flame always believed she was the same. But her world shatters the day she discovers she’s capable of killing. Now, she knows two things. The people who raised her have deceived her. And that her real parents are out there somewhere.

Flame sets out to uncover the truth of her origin and find the family she was never meant to know. She crosses paths with Phoenix, a Mirror boy determined to avenge his mother’s murder.

As Flame and Phoenix search for answers, they soon learn that some secrets are meant to stay buried...

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Available: July 13, 2026
Teen

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Excerpt

Prologue

“It’s my turn with the artificial sun.” A petulant voice breaks through his reverie.

He opens his eyes and squints. His vision struggles to cope with the blinding white walls and fake sunlight. A girl, about his age, swims into focus as she stands over him, hands planted on her hips. It feels like only a minute since he came to the sunroom, and a protesting groan leaks out of him.

This is his favourite place in the whole complex. The only room where he’s guaranteed one hour of peace and solitude. “Trade you?” he asks, hopefully. “There’s a ball in my pocket. Super bouncy. Bounciest ball I’ve ever seen. It’s yours if you give me an extra half hour.”

The girl wrinkles her nose. “What would I want a smelly old ball for? Get out of here and leave me alone.”

He mutters something rude under his breath; his movements are deliberately slow as he climbs off the sunbed, a passive aggressive protest. “All yours.” He snatches up his clothes, stuffing his legs into the flannel slacks and shrugging on the linen shirt. Always the same clothes.

He strides across the sunroom, ignoring the girl’s disapproving sniff.

It’s the way she looks at him that makes the blood pulse in his veins. As if he’s a cockroach, crawling across the floor.

Something burns in him; the feeling reminds him of a spitting cauldron about to bubble over.

Why should he acquiesce to this girl, who thinks she’s so much better than him?

The anger burning through him feels like power and he throws the ball, harder than he ever knew he could. It lands with a satisfying smack in the middle of the girl’s stomach and she hisses in protest. Her mouth opens and she’s about to spill out torrents of vitriol, but he doesn’t give her the chance. His hands are around her throat and that pulsebeat in her neck quickens.

This is a new feeling. Strength is heady and he could get drunk on it. His fingertips dig into her skin and the veins on her neck are turning blue as he starves them of oxygen.

The contempt is gone from her eyes and now they’re wide with fear. He likes that better. That’s how she should look at him.

Her hands claw the air, trying to push him off. He doesn’t bother to stop the laugh escaping from him. There’s no way she can stop him and the fact that she’s trying is hilarious.

It’s over.

Breath and life and spark. It’s gone from her and he took it. She was rude to him and he punished her.

He spots his ball, lying on the floor, and his hand closes around it. He brushes it carefully on his trousers before sliding it into his pocket. Funny, if that girl had just taken the ball, she’d still be alive. Ah well.

He pushes her body off the sunbed and takes his rightful place. It welcomes him, the softness moulding around him, and it’s never felt so good.

He makes eye contact with the blinking camera on the wall. Deliberately, he lifts his hand and makes the rudest gesture he can think of, before closing his eyes and surrendering to the rays of the only sun he’s ever known.

 

* * *

 

He should have known there would be consequences. There were always going to be consequences. He just didn’t expect them quite so soon.

His name is called over the speaker system during dinnertime. He freezes, a spoonful of tomato soup poised midway to his lips.

“What the hell did you do?” snaps his mother.

Two guards appear beside him; each dressed in dazzling white uniforms. Everything about this place is dazzling white. The walls, the clothes, the lights... And is he really the only one to see it’s all so damn fake? “Blaze wants to see you,” snaps one of the guards.

His mother stands up, dragging a hand through her hair. “What’s it about?”

The guards ignore her, snatching his arms. He acts quickly, lifting the bowl of soup and slamming it with as much force as he can into the guard’s face. Rivulets of orange tomato soup trickle onto his pure-white uniform. For a moment, everyone freezes, all eyes on the spectacle. The man looks like he’s bathed in blood. Scarlet droplets cling to his eyelashes. Tomato seeds press to his pale skin. He looks like he’s gone for a swim in an enormous vat of the stuff. And then someone giggles. Only softly. Quickly covered with a cough. But it’s too late, by then. The entire banquet hall erupts into uncontrollable laughter.

The guard’s face turns purple, which looks even more comical contrasting with the orange soup. He presses a button on his uniform, jabbering into a communication device. A voice crackles back at him.

The laughter stops. The boy who started it all feels everyone’s eyes on him. The hairs on the back of his neck slowly rise as he sees the look in the guard’s eyes. Fear uncoils itself, like a serpent, deep in his stomach. Something bad is about to happen.

The guards hurriedly put on masks. A faint hiss echoes through the banquet hall. Before he can register what it means, the two guards seize his arms. Pain twists through his muscles as they yank him backwards, dragging him through the hall.

Beside him, a woman drops to the floor. A man clutches at his throat, croaking that he can’t breathe. Another woman thrashes on the ground, gasping for breath. Her hands claw the air, wild and desperate. Everyone in the banquet hall is falling, one by one. A child screams, its voice thick with fear.

Where’s his mother? His eyes dart over the bodies, looking for her. She sways, her hands pulling at the collar of her uniform. Her eyes are wide with fear as they look straight at him. A tinge of purple spreads across her face and she drops to her knees, gasping for breath.

“No, let me go! Let me get her!” the boy roars, thrashing harder against the guards.

They drag him through the doors, and they slam shut behind him.

 

* * *

 

He’s seen Blaze before, but never this close. And he’s certainly never been in his office.

Just like the rest of the complex, it’s dazzlingly white.

Blaze sits behind his desk, his dark eyes intense. “You’re seventeen, they tell me?”

The boy doesn’t bother to acknowledge the question. “Is my mother dead?”

“My dear boy, every single person in the banquet hall is dead.” Blaze folds his hands behind his head, leaning back in the chair. “Do you know why?”

“Poison gas,” the boy says. That hissing he heard... the way they clutched their throats... the desperation in their eyes as they fought to breathe. Blaze must have flooded the banquet hall with something noxious and deadly. A shudder creeps through him. Will he ever forget the look on his mother’s face?

Blaze frowns. “Wrong. That’s how. Not why.”

A cold bead of sweat trickles down the boy’s spine. “What do you mean?”

Blaze’s navy eyes roll. He stands up and for the first time the boy sees how strong the man is. The muscles under his white shirt ripple. “Do you know what I built this community on, boy?”

The boy shakes his head, unwilling to answer in case he gets it wrong.

“I built it on respect. And when someone here has no respect, do you know what it does to society?” Blaze points to one of the enormous screens. The boy has to look away. Footage of the banquet hall massacre is playing on a loop. Blaze clicks a remote. The scene changes and the boy sees himself, gesturing obscenely at the camera in the corridors, the body of the girl crumpled beneath him. Fire burns up his cheeks.

“You killed everyone because I did that?” His voice sounds so small and uncertain, even to his own ears. “She was just a whiny girl! No one will miss her! And if you value life so much, why did you kill so many people?”

“On the contrary.” Blaze clamps a hand on his shoulder, his fingers like iron as they dig into the flesh. “You killed them. Your actions were disrespectful. And I won’t tolerate disrespect in my community. Do you understand?”

The boy takes a step back, desperate to shake Blaze’s grip off. “What are you going to do now?”

Blaze grins. “I don’t think I need to do anything else, do you? I think I’ve made my point. And that point is everyone who lives down here, in the caves that I found, in the community that I made, lives because I will it. I have the ultimate power over life and death down here and if you want to stay alive, I suggest you show some respect.”

Prickles of fear creep up the boy’s spine. “I just... want to see the sun,” he mutters. “With my own eyes. I don’t want to live down here in the caves all my life.”

“Do you know what you are?” Blaze asks, his navy eyes intense.

The boy looks down. Specks of tomato soup spot his perfectly white clothes. “No, sir.”

“In fact, it’s the only reason why I haven’t killed you as well.” Blaze touches the soft fuzz on the boy’s shaved head. “What colour will your hair be, son? Do you know?”

“Blonde.” What a stupid question. All the people down here have blonde hair. Even the little kids know that.

But Blaze shakes his head. “Wrong.”

Blood pulsates in his ears, drowning every other sound out. If his hair is not blonde, then that can only mean... “I’m a Mirror?” he chokes.

A smile plays on Blaze’s face. “Well done.”

“But...” Questions bounce around inside the boy’s head. He’s hazy on the difference between Good and Mirrors. Down here, everyone seems the same. Pathetic. Unable to defend themselves. Unable to fight back. He’s never seen a Mirror, but maybe they have less inhibitions.

Blaze continues, “One day, I will rule this land. Not just the caves. The world above us. The world you can’t even imagine. And, to do so, I need an army of killers. And Mirrors are the only ones who can kill. See where I’m going with this?”

No. He doesn’t see. Because it doesn’t make sense and his head feels like it’s full of mud.

“So, I’m a Mirror? And, unlike the Good, I can kill?” The memory of the girl’s throat between his hands comes back to him. She hadn’t even fought back. He’d thought it was because he was too strong for her. But maybe she couldn’t defend herself.

“Bravo.” Blaze claps his hands sarcastically.

It’s starting to make sense now. Terrible sense. Blaze wants power. And who better to have power amongst a world of helpless creatures than the vicious?

“You’re breeding us like farm animals?” gasps the boy. “So we can fight your stupid battles?”

“Only select ones.” Blaze shrugs his enormous shoulders. “Consider yourself fortunate to have made it this far. I have the substandard Mirrors killed at birth.”

A shudder ripples through him. “That’s sick,” he spits out. “You can’t just... breed an army.”

Blaze sighs. “You’re making this very difficult for yourself, son.”

Anger explodes inside him. “Well, I’m sick of living down here, fighting over the artificial sunroom, doing all these stupid jobs, working for you, while you sit here in your office getting us all to worship you like you’re some kind of god. Well, you’re not!”

Blaze chuckles softly, striding over to his desk and pulling open the drawer. “I admire your spirit, son.”

The knife in Blaze’s hand winks in the light and the boy takes an instinctive step back. Blaze advances on him, blade extended.

The boy’s fingertips are white as he grips a chair, throwing it with all his force at Blaze. Pulling open the door, he runs, feet pounding down the corridors. A piercing alarm sounds, shrieking in his eardrums. His heart slams in his chest. Which way? He’s never seen the outside world, never even seen the door to it. And if he makes the wrong choice, he’s as dead as the girl he killed. As dead as his mother.

The guards are close behind him. He can hear them calling to each other, giving orders to split up and search.

It’s luck, not judgement, that leads him to a room full of enormous monitors. But it’s quick-thinking that makes him look closely at the monitor marked ‘Exit’. And it’s a combination of luck and quick-thinking that gets him all the way to the exit door.

Guards are everywhere, swarming around the place like the artificial bees in the artificial fields.

The boy ducks behind one of the doors and leans against the frame, his heart still hammering. He can taste freedom—it's on the other side of that door. But how the hell does he get there?

He fumbles in his pockets, hoping he might find something to save him. His hand closes around the ball he’d tried to trade earlier. By the gods, was that really only a few hours ago? He feels like he’s aged thirty years, like he’s a completely different person.

With all his might, he hurls the ball in the opposite direction from the exit door. It crashes satisfyingly down the corridor, ricocheting off doors and bouncing noisily. His lips curve into a grin as every single guard rush in the direction of the noise.

The door doesn’t open. Frustration burns in his body as he twists the handle, pushing and pulling and swearing. The keypad sits smugly in front of him, almost mockingly, and he slams his fist into it. How can he possibly guess the correct number? And he’s running out of time. He can hear the guards, shouting to each other. It’ll be a matter of moments before they find his ball and realise it’s nothing but a diversion.

Half-heartedly, he punches 1-1-1-1 into the keypad. The door whirs gently and the beautiful sound of a sharp click tells him the door unlocks.

Hardly daring to believe his luck and definitely not daring to stop and question it, he rips the door open and rushes outside, pulling the door shut after him.

For a moment, he thinks he’s gone blind. He stares, unseeingly into the darkness. Nothing. And no sound other than a faint, steady drip. Panic wraps ice-cold fingers around his heart. What if he never finds his way out of this cave network? What if he dies down here, alone, gasping for breath, starving?

He leans against the door, forcing himself to take a deep breath. The air is stale out here, but it’s better than poison gas and it’s better than dying at Blaze’s hand.

Forcing himself to put one foot cautiously in front of the other, he staggers forward.

It seems like hours of fumbling before he finally sees the most beautiful sight in the world. A dim crack of light. The air gradually gets purer and as he steps out onto the surface, he feels the warmth of the sun on his face. He closes his eyes, tips his face to the sky and lets the tears leak down his cheeks.

 

* * *

 

He’s not safe. He can’t stay near the caves, and he can’t trust anyone he meets. Just how far does Blaze’s influence spread? Has he got contacts on the surface? It can’t be ruled out and anyone he sees, however nice they seem, might be an assassin sent to kill him. He can’t trust anyone. And he can’t settle anywhere.

“I refuse to live like this,” he growls to himself.

There must be some place he can live out his days in safety. Somewhere that nobody would think to look for him.

As the days go by, he moves around a lot, earning coin and spending it in the local taverns. Never staying long enough to get to know anyone or make friends, in spite of the inviting looks some of the Good girls give him. He ignores everyone, deliberately keeping his features surly, not even tapping his toes to the enchanting beat of the music. He stole a hat from the last tavern he was in, jamming it down on his shaved head, in case his appearance invites any questions. He tries to blend in.

It’s in a tavern called The Dragon’s Breath where he sees Lawkeepers for the first time. Their smart grey uniforms set them apart from the other patrons. He watches them closely. He’s been on the surface long enough to have heard the gossip. Apparently, these are the people that take the Mirror babies away from the Good, up on the surface. He overhears them talk about Mirror Island; about the next trip they’ll take there.

It hits him with the intensity of a lightning bolt. Of course! It’s the one place that no one in their right mind would go, the one place where Blaze could never find him. It’s dangerous, perhaps. It’s stupid, definitely. But it’s also brilliant.

When one of the Lawkeepers excuses himself to use the privy, he follows. It’s the work of seconds to land a solid punch to the side of the young man’s head. Feeling a spike of satisfaction as the man goes down, the boy’s fingers fumble to undress him.

When darkness falls, he joins the Lawkeepers on the shore. The stolen uniform cuts uncomfortably into his sides and he keeps trying to adjust his collar so he can breathe properly. He’s grateful for the cap covering his head; his hair has yet to grow back but he can see now it’s going to be jet black and nobody must know that. Not yet. Word might get back to Blaze about the strange boy with the shaved head and then he’ll be found and dragged back to the caves, to the darkness...

He’d rather die.

A mewling Mirror baby is thrust into his arms, pulling him out of his morbid thoughts, and he staggers aboard the wobbly dinghy. He doesn’t want to look the dragons in the eye in case they sense he’s not truly one of the Good. They fly silently, either side of the Lawkeepers’ boat. Their chains bind them to the prow and stern. He must have uttered the words, “But they’re extinct!” at least eight times, much to the other Lawkeepers’ amusement.

Beneath the crystal-clear waters that lap the shores of Mirror Island swims The Creature. If he looks down now, he would see it—its lithe body coiling underneath them as it undulates. He would see its enormous mouth opening, as if it is testing just how wide it would have to extend its jaw in order to swallow them whole.

It won’t though. Presumably, it gets fed enough from the Mirrors who occasionally try to escape.

He shivers nervously. It’s taken him all this time to get used to the dragons. And now he’s spotted The Creature. “What is that?” He points with a shaking finger.

As if it’s heard him, The Creature throws its body out of the water, almost like how he imagines a leaping dolphin, and seems to grin it at him, showing all its enormous, pointed teeth, before lurching back down to the depths.

“That old thing?” One of the Lawkeepers laughs at his obvious discomfort. “We don’t know. We call it The Creature. Been there since before the beginning of time and will be there long after. Haven’t you ever wondered why none of the Mirrors we take to the island ever escape?”

“Yes.” It’s a lie. He hasn’t given it any thought until now, but he doesn’t risk saying that.

“The Creature keeps them in line.” The Lawkeeper jerks his thumb towards the island. “Any of those bastards get too close to the shore and The Creature has them for breakfast.”

The boy shivers. He doesn’t dare to point out that, if a Mirror dies, so does its Good twin. He suspects the Lawkeeper will tell him not to be such a wimp and to mind his own business. A few deaths are apparently the price they’re willing to pay to keep the Mirrors in line.

As if on cue at the mention of its own kind, one of the eight Mirror babies they’ve collected begins to cry. The boy bends down to comfort it. It bites his finger for his trouble and the other Lawkeepers laugh heartily at his squeak of pain.

“You can’t show kindness to pigs, young one.” The eldest Lawkeeper claps him on the shoulder. “And that’s all these Mirrors are. Just pigs. No kindness. No compassion. No decency.”

The boy clenches his hands. Better that than punch this obnoxious man in the face. He covers his anger by asking a question. “If The Creature stops them escaping, why doesn’t it stop us going there?”

The eldest Lawkeeper sighs with exaggerated patience at the boy’s ignorance and speaks in the kind of voice reserved for a particularly badly behaved puppy. “The Creature is bound to serve the king and country. Has done since the dawn of time. We don’t know what witchcraft was used to bind it into servitude, but as long as it does its job and protects us from the evil, we don’t really care.”

“So they can’t swim off and they can’t make their own boats to try and escape.” The boy sounds almost sad at the fate of the Mirrors and coughs to try and cover the crack in his voice. He mustn’t act suspiciously.

The dragons breathe fire in front of them, lighting up the beach, ready to defend them against the other Mirrors. For a second he thinks he sees a pair of eyes, glowing in the fiery light, but when he blinks, they’re gone.

As soon as the boat draws close to the shore, the fake Lawkeeper jumps out. His feet hit the shifting sands, and his momentum carries him forward.

None of the Lawkeepers see him go.

Crouching behind a gorse bush, he watches them leave the same way they came. His heart drums violently inside his chest. There’s no going back now. If the Mirrors decide to murder him, there’s not a great deal he can do about it.

He watches them come down to collect their babies. They’re more nurturing than Blaze led him to believe. He spends the next few weeks watching the Mirrors. Most of them serve a strange god he’s never heard of. Can he never escape from bizarre cults? Apart from that, though, they seem almost normal.

As night falls on his thirty-third day on the island, he lies on his back and looks up at the moon. Until recently, he’s never seen the moon, and he never tires of how beautiful it is, like an enormous, milky eye in the sparkling sky. There’s grass under his fingertips and it feels both soft and spiky at the same time. There’s a warm wind, caressing his skin, so different from the synthetic air down in Blaze’s caves.

The cave dwellers that are still alive probably still talk about him. About the way he dared to buck the system and disappear. They’ll tell the story of his bravery and courage. There’s something intriguing about the religion he’s discovered on Mirror Island. That has potential. Perhaps he can use it to his own advantage. There are a couple of girls nearby, dancing around the campfire. One of them has bangles that jingle, winking at him in the moonlight. The ache in his chest is almost physical as he yearns to join them, to be seen by them.

A plan forms in his mind. These people crave a sign from their god. Maybe it’s time they got one.

After all, if Blaze can create an army of devoted worshippers, why can’t he?

 

* * *

 

Sand crunches beneath his feet. It’s been a year since he was last on the shoreline. Now he knows what The Creature is capable of, he stays well away.

Except now.

One of the bundles in his arms twists and he pulls it closer to his chest. No one must see it. Thank the Great Reflector there’s a full moon.

In the distance, the lights of the Lawkeeper’s boat bobs on the water. They’ll be here soon.

Hastily, he places one of the bundles on the sand and ducks behind a bush for cover.

He knows he has to do this. It’s the only way to what he did secret. To protect her as well as him. But the bundle in his arms howls in protest at being separated from its brother. He rocks it gently, whispering meaningless words to it.

The Lawkeepers’ boat hits the shore and the men jump out, their grey uniforms sepulchral in the moonlight.

The dragons breathe fire in front of them, lighting up the beach, and one of the Lawkeepers sees the baby on the shore. “See that?”

Another Lawkeeper shrugs. “Probably a dog or something.”

One of the dragons exhales a stream of fire, lighting up the whole shoreline and the Lawkeeper’s eyes widen. “It’s a Good baby!” he gasps.

Crouching in the darkness, the boy’s knees are getting sore. “Hurry up, take the child and go,” he mutters to himself. But, of course, they won’t do that. They’re Good; they have to inspect and poke and prod and make sense of it all.

All the Lawkeepers gather together, gaping in astonishment at the tiny infant.

Eventually, when the men finish arguing about what to do with the youngling and finally agree to take it back to the mainland with them, the boy can stand up. His knees crack and pop under him and he stretches.

On the shoreline, the Mirror babies lie like caught fish, their eyes wide in the moonlight.

No one sees him place another Mirror baby beside him and melt away, back into the night.

 

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