The Offenders

By Ainsley Billings

Years after her mother died, Astra Larkin feels trapped in her head and on her planet. Her only place of refuge is her Knot, Xack. He gives her the safety she longs for. But that beautiful peace is in danger as the Leaders are closing in on the dark secret Astra and Xack have been hiding. They broke the rules--and now they must die.

After sacrificing everything for each other, Xack ends up in danger, and Astra must face her past traumas to save him. Throughout the many trials and internal struggles with herself, Astra finds the horizon and learns that family is what you make of it, and love comes in many forms.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Covenant Books, Inc.
• Release date: Jul 19, 2023
• ISBN: 9798886449471

Book preview

Table of Contents

Title

Copyright

Acknowledgments

Letter 1

Letter 2

Letter 3

Letter 4

Letter 5

Letter 6

Letter 7

Letter 8

Letter 9

Letter 10

Epilogue

About the Author

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The Offenders

Ainsley Billings

ISBN 979-8-88644-946-4 (Paperback)

ISBN 979-8-88644-947-1 (Digital)

Copyright © 2023 Ainsley Billings

All rights reserved

First Edition

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed, or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods without the prior written permission of the publisher. For permission requests, solicit the publisher via the address below.

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Acknowledgments

To Mrs. Bover, thank you for giving me the passion and tools to start this dream. And to Lauren, thank you for giving me the courage to finish this dream.

Letter 1

Motus Diem was the death of me.

The day where every child became an adult, where every dream became a distant memory. Each complex of the child filed into Fortress 1, all bustling with the excitement of having a member in Motus Diem. They all believed that to be in the Motus Diem lineup was the highest honor. I never understood that, for every child of age needed to participate.

They would all stand on the chair-lined steps, nervously wringing their hands. They were to become members of Ghealach. To Knot. To Work. To be constantly reminded of what it felt like to have chains around their hands. Motus Diem was to some people the first day of the rest of their lives. To me it was the last.

Motus Diem referred to the movement of the Agers, the ones who were to participate in the ceremony. The title came from the old earthen language meaning movement or change. This year, 154 Agers would line the stage, all from our three different Fortresses. The ones who were our next generations, the ones whose hands would now be shackled to tradition and obedience.

Next year would be me. I still had a year left to enjoy my life, even though it was a frail and pathetic thing. My only source of comfort came from my best friend, Xack Shawnson, and my little sister, Zayla. He was the person who would walk me through the darkness, the constant anchor to my ever-storming soul. She was the light source to my dark mind and the smile that could bring even the vilest Protectors to their knees.

Not only was Xack my best friend, he was also my Knot. My soul twin, a concept Zayla fawned over, the hopeless romantic she was; however, it was a fact that could have us both killed. Lex 2: Underage Knotting is illegal. And we were certainly underage.

It happened three months prior, a bland afternoon that would pass by unnoticed by most. But it was the afternoon that held our death sentence. I remember every second before and after; I remember every feeling that had begun coursing through his veins. The feeling of binding your soul is exhilarating, but it has no comparison to the promise of forever that comes directly after. I had always loved him, always known he was my Knot, and when it had been finalized, the average afternoon had become immensely so much more.

The problem remained, though, that we had Knotted one year and three months before we should have. If we had been Agers, we would have been banished as Offenders, and sent to burn in the pits of Domhain. Not like time mattered much to us anyway, for we knew once we become Agers, our transgressions would be seen, and the same fate would befall us.

We had two weeks till Motus Diem. We had two weeks till we ourselves became Agers. Xack believed we had two weeks till the darkness hunted us, but I knew that darkness had always hunted me. Darkness found me a desirable companion, for she had been with me in my every endeavor. She had been more constant than Xack, more overpowering than Zayla. Darkness, her dear presence never far, had become my enemy. A violent enemy that waged war over me, that sliced through me any moment she saw fit.

Sometimes I would scream, sometimes I could be so silent even I did not know if I was still living. But the problem with Darkness was that she was only ever in my head. She did not grace anyone else with her presence, so I remained her captive. Day in. Day out. I would not be ridiculed, I would not be weak, so she became my captive as much as I was hers. I hid the truth, the rotting darkness infesting me, from everyone. Including Xack.

It took an absurd amount of effort to keep her at bay, especially since his own soul could claw through any emotion I had and find the enemy I kept shoved away from the light. He never did, for he was too good, too kind to ever violate me in such a horrific way.

I knew Knots that were lovely, a beautiful portrayal of love and affection. The ones my sister looked at and swooned over, hoping for her own happing ending. But I also knew evil lurked in every Fortress; every complex had their own secrets. Lex 5: Anything inside your house is your business, but anything outside is the Leaders.

An awful edict, one that gave so much power to those who were greedy and filled with evil. Xack knew all too well what power and greed could do to a man; he had the scars on his back to tell the story for him. But I was the only one who knew the full journey of the muscled and scarred back of my Knot. I would be the only one.

Astra, darling, Xack whispered gently against my exposed shoulder. His breath was warm and calming in a way that nothing ever was. Where were you?

I pulled my eyes from the wretched and death-filled Domhain floating below us. I tilted my head back, enough to see the gold in his breathtaking green eyes. Emeralds, Zayla had called them, to which I agreed. A certain light only ever reserved for me.

Nowhere, I responded. What happened after school? I needed to attend to my father. I kept my breathing calm as I lied to him, tried to believe the words myself.

If he caught the lie, he said nothing as he nodded thoughtfully. His hands moved through the dust of the ground, coating his hands in a fine gray powder. We were sitting on the edge of Fortress 3, in the abandoned flower fields. An array of burnt orange flowers used to grow there, but the Leaders had decided to redirect the energy from the fortress onto a more productive wheat field.

Since then, it had been forgotten, darkened, and the become the perfect place for Xack and I to be alone. Due to the dome shape of the Fortress, we could go to the edge and stare out at the vast endless void that surrounded us. The panels that formed them each were hazy at every other spot in the dome, but in the abandoned field, the power did not quite reach.

I could always see Domhain below us, always wondering what it would have been like to live there. To have real freedom and to have real life. The truth of that desire would have me shunned, so I kept to my lies. I kept to my masks and walls that were almost as close to me as Darkness.

In truth, I had been attacked by her, and I had run. I had been a coward, but I could not face her near my friends. I could not let Xack see the wretched, useless girl that he had been shackled to. He believed my lie enough; he kissed my neck.

You missed nothing important, darling. Simple math equations and Roni being kept after once more. Same thing as yesterday, he said, smiling to himself, a small smile, but it made my heart flip nonetheless.

I pulled his arms tighter around my chest and forced his head to rest on my shoulder. He was warm, always so warm even in the cool Fortress-generated air.

I laughed, a little too forced but real all the same. Maybe I will miss tomorrow as well.

Do not dare miss. I need you there, he hissed, the threatening voice not scaring me as he grinned.

I rolled my eyes, already feeling lighter being with him for five minutes. So obsessive.

His grin turned feral, and he fell onto his back, a cloud of gray billowing from underneath him. He was a full head taller than me, and his body was solid as any Protector's. Due to restricted diets, the society had decreased body mass, leaving us all spindly and thin. Xack never let his body waste away; he always pushed himself to the max, to become better than he had been the day before.

He flipped me over, and I rested my head on his chest; muscle and tightness met my cheek. His large arms wrapped around my back, a solid wall between us and the rest of our world.

How is your father now? he was asking because he was a caring man, a gentle man.

I had to keep my lie going, my breathing calm. Hung over, of course. Passed out by now, I suppose. He's Zayla's problem now. I did not have to fake my bitterness.

A low chuckle rippled through his body. All right, but if you need me tonight, let me know.

I nodded against him, but I dared not tell him that no matter how drunk or how upset my father was, he would never lay a hand on me. I dared not tell him that my father had never once terrified me in his moments of weakness; he never ever left me wondering if I would be safe. He was no father, but he was also no terror.

I will. I looked up, smiling at the beautiful, chiseled face that was my Knot. If you need me, you let me know. I know these two weeks are some of the worst.

His bright eyes pinned me down, a stare that made my stomach twist, even sixteen years after meeting.

I always need you, he said, his voice lowering, his eyes keeping their brightness. Till my last breath, I will need you.

Always dramatic, always intoxicating. I leaned into him, my lips brushing his. You are a hopeless romantic, Xack Shawnson.

He smiled again, a light and full smile reserved only for me. That I am, darling. That I am.

Our conversation dissipated, leaving us to revel in each other, in the feelings that could not be said but that could course through our veins. That could fill us more fully than any other experience in the world.

The engineered light that simulated the sun began to set slowly, slinking over the tiles of each dome in perfect unison. It was unnatural, and I hated every inch it set. Not only for the simulated feeling of life but for the sign that meant I had to return. I never wanted to leave my perfect moments with Xack, but the dark was a time for the vicious creatures of our world to roam free. Any person with half a mind stayed closed in during the nights.

Protectors were off duty after sunset. Only one remained at each complex gate, and even then, they never did much to protect. The word was false reminder, a fake wall of trust erected to keep the people in check. They carried swords that spoke of safety, but their lifeless eyes underneath their white helmets spoke of horrors.

I arose, yanking Xack up with me. Our suits were clean, for the material was resistant to the dust in the outer edges. Further into the Fortress, our feet would hit rock, gray rock, but it would be solid, shapely. I did not want to leave him; I did not want to ever take the Agmen back into Fortress 1.

I will see you tomorrow, Xack said, noting my hesitation.

I peered up at the man before me and sighed. I try and savor these hours with you. I do not know how much longer we have.

Two weeks at least. Forever at most. The timeframe was not logical, but I supposed that nothing truly beautiful ever is. If we were discovered, if the Leaders knew our crime, death come for us, quick and relentless. But we held on to those two weeks, we made every moment count, for Xack did not want to die, and I had been dead long since.

We parted ways at the field, him leaving first and I following shortly after. We had become experts in blending, in becoming so average no one paid us attention. It was difficult at first to settle into the background. Both of our fathers were important people, the exact type I cursed before I went to bed each night.

Reader Shawnson was a brutish man who looked far too much like his son for my liking. I was supposed to hate the man, but I could never stop seeing Xack in his wispy golden hair and the freckled cheeks. His own green eyes were nothing in comparison, though, for his eyes had lost their light long ago.

He was the council to Leader Dayhar, the leader of Fortress 1. It was his job to assist by staying educated on the past, studying data for Motus Diem, and overseeing Offender trials. Reader Mayle of Fortress 3 hated his vocation but kept it out of necessity. Reader Shawnson thrived in his position. He loved what he did all too much, and with what he had done to my Knot, I could not trust him. He was a rotten man; thank Stellae his son was nothing like him.

My own father was simply the opposite in every way. He was a lanky and shorter man than most, already losing his dark hair though he was barely forty. I supposed he might have been handsome once, but years of drinking had washed it all away. The sparkle that had been imbedded into his soft blue eyes was now only dark rings hanging far too low on his face.

Drinking and my mother—that was what broke him. People did not seem to mind his condition or his look of death. They had only ever seen him for his title. Traveler. The man who braved the dark void, and the deadly Domhain, all to banish the Offenders. They saw him as a savior of some sorts. I dared not tell them that he was nothing of the sort.

If Xack and I were caught, his father would condemn us, and mine would take us to our death. A truly poetic ending, Xack liked to say. It was enough to make me draw it over and over again, in attempts to come to terms with my nearing future. However, I never would finish it because I was not ready to give up yet. I was not ready to be shackled.

I rode the Agmen from Fortress 3 till it halted in the tunnel of my home. Despite my boarded-up soul, I found a certain beauty in the Agmen. It ran magnetically on the tracks imbedded deep in the rocky underground. The energy the Fortresses harnessed provided enough for it to run all day and all night. Three containers for about twenty people each were all hooked with the magnetic pull, forming the sleek body of the Agmen.

Both inside and out, it was made of sleek white metal, shimmering in the light. As it stopped and its doors slid open, coaxing me out, I could not help but miss it. I loved the way it floated and hummed, the bounce of entering and exiting the tunnels where platforms awaited its arrival. I liked its comforting lull. It seemed to be the only good thing the Leaders had done for us.

The Agmen and Fortresses were the only two parts of Gachlach that remained intricate and complex. My sister referred to the rest of our world as medieval. She was always using words that meant nothing to me. Especially her favorite word, hope.

The dusk was turning much darker as I crossed the Fortress. The three-mile walk through complex communities, the booths, and past the Praetorium made for a leg-burning trek, but I enjoyed the isolation it brought me. A walk long enough that I could recenter myself but not have to be alone for my darling enemy to find me.

I waved my hand at the gate, letting the Protector know I was entering my home. Ten complexes awaited past the gate, all ten exactly the same. Sleek white metal outsides, steps to the front door and back door, and four windows in all. Pathetic living arrangement, yet no one seemed to mind the simplicity.

I clambered up the steps and barged in. The louder I was, the faster my father would flee from his spot on the couch and drag himself into his room. We had a system, he and I. We lived in half-truths and distant memories, neither of us wanting anything more from each other than the illusion of a family. Zayla and Xack had always been my family, and I had come to terms with that.

Zayla, I called, unstrapping my boots and setting them on the mat next to the door. Your turn to make dinner tonight.

Her head popped out from around the wall that separated the kitchen from the living room. Her hair was in two perfect knots on top of her perfectly rounded skull. Sometimes I did not know how she was a real girl. Her caramel waves fell in small ringlets that framed her too-thin face.

She had always been small, even from the moment she was thrust into my arms. Even her womanhood had not yet emerged, though by sixteen it most certainly should have. She had been admitted into the infirmary many times, but all data registered normal. Zayla was far from normal.

She grinned at me, a golden and stunning thing. Serving it now, Astra. Honestly, you think me so irresponsible.

I rolled my eyes and took my place at the counter. A steaming plate of stew was slid in front of me. She hopped onto a stool next to me and blew on her own plate. She was still smiling at me as she shoveled a spoonful into her mouth.

Did you have fun with Xack? she asked, mumbling around the mouthful.

I took my own slow bite, letting her sit in silence for a moment. Yes, we had a lovely time.

She did not know about us Knotting, not for lack of trust but because I loved her. If the Leaders decided to make a statement about me and Xack, they could easily attack Zayla. They could do anything to her, and I would be powerless against it. So I found where I could have the power. I found the rivet of control, and I seized it.

She nodded thoughtfully. I am happy to hear that report. While you were off gallivanting with Xack, Father passed out until you arrived home. He truly is not so bad if he cannot talk.

She was joking, trying to find a light where there was none. It was the reason I loved her so dearly; she always saw something better than what was before her. She did not know how much Darkness lurked within me, but she still saw me for more than that. For more than my unworthiness.

I did not respond to her; I did not want to begin an argument. We had only ever fought a few times, excluding all petty disagreements, and all of them had been over my father's condition. She believed that he would get better over time, that being in our complex with us would help him improve. Hope. She always said to have hope.

It was ridiculous to have hope for such a hapless man. He had not once improved since my mother's death sixteen years ago. Every day he was drowned in whatever emptiness and self-pity he could find; drank himself into the ground like the hopeless creature he was.

He was always his best days before and after shipping off an Offender to Domhain. He seemed the most clearheaded and lively, but even then, he was only a shadow of what he had been. I had lost my mother at four, but I had also lost a father that day. I would never forgive him for choosing to drink, choosing to hide in the shadows rather than heal with me.

But he had made his choice, drinking. I had made mine, shoving it all into the deepest and darkest parts of my soul. Neither choice seemed to make us better, but at least I could don the mask, the lies, and fool them all. He had not even tried, and if he had not been a Traveler, his presence would have never been thought of again.

How was school today? I asked, needing to move on from all subjects Xack or parenting related.

Her murky eyes shone with the memories of all that she had learned. After class with Instructor Evan, I worked with the other Apprentices forming a food crisis simulation. Her eyes drifted off toward the living room, in cherished fantasy.

I found her obsession with knowledge and learning quite revolting, but the way her eyes lit up, the way her body came to life, I would have given everything to see that forever.

Excellent. I'm very glad you had that experience, I said, returning her smile, not quite as forced as normal. Tell me about what I should expect as an Ager.

Her large eyes narrowed down, the brown staring down my deep blue. She was analyzing me, assessing my question to see the intent behind the words. I kept my breathing calm and my face neutral.

Her suspicious look fell away, and she smirked. Why? Do you want to find out if you and Xack are Knots?

My muscles were tense. I could not give anything away; I let her see the mask I donned. I let her see the wildly-in-love girl I was. I gave her the laugh she wanted.

Of course I want to know, but I can wait. Only a year more, and besides, how could we not be? That part was true. I had known it since the first moment I recognized I loved him. It had always only been him.

She smirked, an elegant carving on her exquisite features. Have you ever given thought to what would happen if you were not? What would happen then?

No such thing will happen, I hissed out too venomously to appear casual. I corrected my tone and tried again. He and I are all the other has. We have to be Knots. We were Knots.

She sighed heavily and took our plates to the sink. Our fresh water ran from a reservoir deep within Gachlach's center. She washed them and set them onto a towel to dry.

Oh, to be so sure as you are. But you should be cautious, Astra. Once you are an Ager, people will be looking much more closely at you. She spoke softly, as if sad for me and my nearing fate.

I wrapped my arm around her bony shoulder, cold and thin. I kissed her forehead and gave her a confident smile. They have looked at me my whole life, so let them look. I almost fooled myself with the bravado of my words, but I could not ignore my twisting stomach.

She shoved me off, chuckling. I'm serious. It doesn't look proper for Agers to be so exclusive. If your data doesn't match Xack's, regardless of Knots, you will not be together.

Her brows drew together with worry for me and for Xack. I tapped her nose, the perfect picture of serenity. I have never been one for proper, have I? It is sweet of you to worry about me, but I will be okay.

I was suddenly growing tired of wearing such a heavy mask, one that drained me much faster than anything else. I turned to go, to retreat like a coward, but Zayla spoke again.

Not anymore.

I knew what she meant. I had been the picture of obedience, a child that was nothing but good and average in the minds of the people. Four years I had been like that, four years I had stopped fighting outwardly. The Leaders and my instructors must have thought they fixed me, but Stellae knows they had done no such thing.

I had made a vow, and for four years I had stuck to it. I would not break it because she issued a challenge to me. So, I nodded and smiled.

Yes, I have grown up, Zayla. Maybe if you were to get your nose out of your books, you could do the same. I stalked off to my room without another word.

It had been a low blow, but one I knew would strike her hard enough she would not dare bring up the subject again. I had been a crazy wild woman, but now I would be a homemaker. A fair tradeoff, I supposed.

I shut my door with a click and let out a heavy hot breath. The light from the night tiles of the dome glistened off the other complexes, streaming lightly into my room. I stripped off my jacket and pants, tossing them into a pile with the singular red stripe staring back at me. Once I participated in Motus Diem, the one stripe would become two, symbolizing my change in society.

My pile of clothes was growing, and I knew I would need to take it to Annalise to be washed before I ran out. I did not think striding around in my undergarments would keep me in the background.

The padding of my feet echoed into the foundation of our complex as I made my way to the window, my chair pushed up next to it. I loved my field, but my window was my second favorite place to be. Half my view was the Ash Silva, the trees making up the outskirts of our dome. The other half was a view of Domhain, the once glorious planet that was now reduced to rubble.

Blue means life.

Her voice cut through the silence, and a chill ran through my body. The images flashed into my mind, faster than I could erect my walls to keep them out. I squeezed my eyes shut, my inner self shoving each and every memory away, to lock them back into the darkness from which they were born.

The shadow army of Darkness scattered when my door opened and Zayla pounced onto my bed. I did not need to turn around; I was too weak for a mask, and I could not let her see the dead and cold thing I was.

I'm sorry, she whispered into the dark room. She had nothing to apologize for, but I accepted it anyway.

I don't like it when you meddle in my business.

I heard her swallow and stand. I only want to be here for you. You've seemed distant these last few weeks, and I want you to know that you always have me.

I would not have her once I was banished. She would not have me once I was an Offender. With all her knowledge and power she was accumulating, she could do nothing for me, so I shut down and ignored her.

Her relentlessness and loyalty did not budge in my silence; she walked to me and wrapped her small, frail body around my waist. I was so frozen that I could not return the gesture, but something in me cracked. Once the Leaders discovered my transgressions, I would be taken from her without explanation.

I knew how it felt to be lost without reason, to be tossed across worlds without tether. I shut my eyes, enveloping myself in darkness, and I said the words that had been my most joyous and disastrous news.

Xack and I Knotted. I said it so quietly, I hardly heard myself.

Zayla most certainly heard because her arms went limb around me, and her breath hitched. Her eyes had gone wide, and her mouth hung open in an expression of betrayal.

How? When? she asked breathlessly.

My rational mind screamed at me to shut down, to leave her with nothing. But I could not do such a vile thing to my sister.

Three months ago. We stopped taking our Pacers to see what would happen, and, well…we Knotted three days after. I searched her eyes, hoping to see some kindness and understanding.

Zayla was by nature a kind and beautiful soul, but she had as tough a skin as anyone. Her warm and lovely features turned cold as she stepped back from me. Her lips were quivering, and I knew it was from restrained rage.

Three months? she whispered harshly. No lovely singsong voice anymore.

I nodded, letting no mask coat my face. I did not care if she saw how empty I felt after my day of half-truths and walls. Yes. Three.

Her hand pressed against her forehead in a gesture of shock, and she let out a dry laugh. Do you understand what this means?

I frowned. That if the Leaders find out, we die?

Well, yes, but also that Knotting is its own essence. It does not need the statistics that the Leaders provide. It chooses on its own, before the allotted timeframe. Her voice was laced with awe and curiosity.

Zayla was a Reader Apprentice, the only position not planned out by data. She was training to take over for Reader Shawnson in four years when she had her own Motus Diem. The job was sensitive enough to require six years of previous instruction and guidance. Her learning had become her obsession, and the mind she had forged had become dangerous.

She had always been an underestimated creature. After her birth, no one had thought she would live, but she had. Convenient for the Leaders, and a gift to me. I had prepared myself to grapple with her, to get on my knees and beg her to keep our secret. But she only shook her head in disbelief.

I understand why you did not trust me, but know that my loyalty is to you first and foremost. She stared me down, making sure I knew her sincerity.

I felt a wall threating to crumple under her loving gaze, a key part of my character threatening to break. I straightened my back and smiled.

Thank you, and I am sorry about earlier. I was surprised at the emotion that slipped through the cracks. I could not clamp it down; she saw the swallow and the rapid blinks.

She smiled softly again and rested her small cold hand over my cheek. Sisters always forgive, isn't that what you taught me?

I shrugged, feigning ignorance, but I had indeed taught her that. Forgiveness, I had said, was the cornerstone to any solid relationship. Rich coming from a girl who kept all her anger so bundled up that Darkness never left her side.

Well, you did. She patted my cheek and lay back on my bed. And I listened to you for once. Shocking, I know.

I did not have to force the laugh that shot from somewhere deep. I blinked in surprise at the lack of control I had let rise in me. Zayla did not register my surprise; she slapped the mattress, beckoning me to join her. I slid down next to her, my day aching through my feet and into my shins.

She laid her head against my shoulder, her soft curls tickling my throat. We looked out my window, out into the nothing of the world, into the void that gave me the only peace I had felt in years.

The void was where I drew my inspiration to create. I poured out my horrid wretchedness into my sketchbooks, all now stained with charcoal marks. When I let my mind empty, when I let my walls down and threw myself into my own void, the darkness within me seemed to lessen. I would draw for hours, sometimes coherent pictures, sometimes nothing that seemed to make any sense. But it always relieved the pressing weight of my soul, so I kept at it. Day and night for my entire life. My favorite to draw was Xack. I had a million