Nyx POV
The envelope glows blue.
I stare at it on our cracked kitchen table, my hands shaking so badly I have to grip the edge to stay steady. Blue means official. Blue means Celestial. Blue means impossible.
"Open it!" Zephyr bounces beside me, then coughs hard. His whole body jerks with it. I catch him before he falls, feeling how light he is—too light, like a bird made of paper and wishes.
"Breathe, Zeph. Slow breaths." I rub his back until the coughing stops, hating how his lips turn purple at the edges. Hating that I can't fix it. Hating that the Celestials could fix it in five minutes but won't because we're just Fringe rats.
"I'm okay." He grins at me with that stupid, beautiful smile that makes my chest hurt worse than his does. "Now open it before I die of curiosity instead of this broken heart."
"Don't joke about that." But I pick up the envelope because he's right—waiting is torture.
My name blazes across the front in silver letters: NYXARA SOLENE. Below it, the seal of the Celestial Academy. The most elite school in Neo-Singapore. The place where gods learn to be gods.
Only one Fringe student gets accepted each decade.
I applied as a joke. A dare from myself. Proof that I tried.
"What if it's a rejection?" My voice cracks.
"Then we burn it and pretend it never came." Zephyr squeezes my hand. His fingers are ice-cold. Always cold now. "But Nyx? I don't think they send rejections in glowing envelopes."
He's right. I tear it open.
The words swim in front of my eyes: CONGRATULATIONS... ACCEPTED... PROGRAMMING DIVISION... REPORT IN THREE DAYS.
"I got in." The words feel fake in my mouth. "Zeph, I actually got in."
He screams and throws his arms around me, and we're both crying and laughing and spinning in our tiny apartment that smells like rust and recycled air. For one perfect moment, I forget that the walls are crumbling, that we ate protein paste for dinner again, that my little brother is dying because the Celestials think his life isn't worth the cost of a new heart valve.
"You're going to be a Celestial!" Zephyr pulls back, his gray eyes—the same color as mine—shining with tears. "You're going to walk in the Sky Districts and learn their secrets and—"
"I'm going to save you." I grab his shoulders. "That's what I'm going to do. I'll learn their medicine. Steal it if I have to. You're going to get better, Zeph. I promise."
His smile wobbles. "Nyx, you can't steal from Celestials. They'll kill you."
"They'll have to catch me first." I try to sound brave, but my stomach twists. He's right. Getting caught stealing Celestial property means execution. Or worse—the Culling Zones where they send criminals to die slowly.
But what choice do I have? Watch my baby brother suffocate in this apartment while I do nothing?
Our parents died doing nothing. Six years ago in the factory, when the machines broke and the Celestial overseers locked the exits so no one could "steal" work time by leaving early. Mom and Dad burned with forty-seven other workers. The Celestials called it "an unfortunate accident" and paid us nothing.
I was fifteen. Zephyr was ten. We've been alone ever since.
Not anymore.
"Three days." I look at the letter again, making sure it's real. "I have three days to get ready."
"What do you need?" Zephyr asks. "I can sell my—"
"No." I cut him off. "You're not selling anything. I'll figure it out."
But I have no money for Academy clothes. No money for the transit pass to the Sky Districts. No money for the data pad they require all students to have.
I have nothing except silver hair, gray eyes, and a brain that's kept us alive this long.
It'll have to be enough.
Three days pass in a blur of panic and preparation.
I borrow clothes from our neighbor, Ms. Chen, whose daughter died last year. They smell like another girl's dreams. I steal a transit pass from a drunk Celestial who wandered into the Fringe looking for illegal drugs. I reprogram an old data pad I found in the trash, spending two sleepless nights fixing its broken code.
Zephyr watches me work, asking questions about the Academy, making me promise I'll come home every weekend. Making me promise I won't forget him when I'm surrounded by perfect people in their perfect world.
"I could never forget you." I hug him tight on my last night home. "You're my whole heart, Zeph. Everything I do is for you."
"I know." His voice is small. "Just... be careful, okay? Celestials don't like us. They think we're broken."
"Then I'll show them how wrong they are."
The morning I leave, Zephyr gives me a bracelet he made from old wire and computer parts. It's ugly and beautiful and so perfectly him that I almost cry.
"For luck," he says.
"I don't need luck. I have you." I slip it on my wrist.
The transit to the Sky Districts takes thirty minutes but feels like traveling to another planet. The Fringe falls away below me—gray, cramped, dying. Above, the towers of the Sky Districts gleam like crystal knives, so bright they hurt to look at.
Beautiful and cruel. Just like the people who live there.
The Academy rises in the center of it all, a massive white building that looks like it's made of light itself. My stomach flips as the transit stops. This is it. My chance. My only chance.
I step onto the platform, and the air tastes different here—clean, sweet, expensive.
A guard stops me immediately. "Name and district."
"Nyxara Solene. Fringe District Seven." I show him my acceptance letter.
He looks at me like I'm dirt on his perfect shoes. "The Fringe student." Not a question. An insult. He scans my letter, then waves me through. "Don't touch anything valuable."
I walk through the gates with my head high, even though my hands are shaking. Even though I don't belong here. Even though every person I pass stares at my borrowed clothes and silver hair like I'm a disease.
I'm here. I made it.
The entrance hall is full of students—perfect, glowing, genetically enhanced students who laugh and talk like they own the world. Because they do.
I find a corner and try to be invisible.
That's when I see him.
A boy—no, not a boy. Something more. Platinum hair. Eyes so blue they look electric. Tall and perfect and cold as winter. He stands across the hall with other Enforcer trainees, and even from here, I can feel the power rolling off him like ice.
He turns his head.
Our eyes meet.
Everything stops.
His expression doesn't change, but something flickers in those cold blue eyes. Recognition? Curiosity? Hunger?
A girl beside me whispers, "That's Kaelen Voss. The Chief Architect's son. He's going to be High Enforcer someday. Don't even look at him—Fringe trash like you could get executed just for breathing his air."
But Kaelen is still looking at me.
And I realize with a sick, twisting feeling in my gut that this boy—this perfect, terrifying boy—is going to change my life forever.
I just don't know if it'll be salvation or destruction.