Book of Fire

Prologue

In the old world, people foraged for food in bright cities the size of the forest, Grandpa said, and rode toxic boxes on wheels, instead of running with the sun.

Embellished truth or plain fiction, Grandpa's fireside myths were my favourite part of the day. And as my twin brother and I grew, the myths turned into stories from his own childhood, like the time he found a tattered advert for the Lifedome on a creeper-choked wall. When he pulled the foliage aside, it still bore the ripped, black lettering of its utopian dream.

It was only when Eli and I turned sixteen that, in keeping with village tradition, we learned the real story of Arafel's forefathers from the Council. We plagued Grandpa for the rest, and when he finally relented, there was something in his stark portrayal of our beginning that shadowed me, even on the brightest day.

The Lifedome was supposed to be a landmark scientific experiment, he told us, a microcosm to investigate how Genetic Modification could serve the technological world. The goal was the Nobel Prize, but global funding meant the Government had to make extravagant promises. Prime Minister Johnstone went one step further, claiming the Lifedome would provide emergency shelter should the tension between the East and West ever erupt into another Great Holy War. That day arrived sooner than everyone expected, on 3rd November 2025.

They claimed it was a rogue test missile, that it wasn't intended to reach London, but the dust clouds enveloped most of the country, and their effect was cataclysmic. With cities in ruins and thousands of refugees left with nowhere to shelter, the Government's Scientific Team had to throw open the Lifedome doors, and provide what shelter they could. Those who were still able took their families and fled towards the only safe haven in the West, clinging to its costly propaganda that it could withstand every bomb known to mankind. Others accepted a grateful ride from the Sweeper vehicles.

But there were whispers right from the start, whispers that grew with the silence, that things were very different, once you got inside.

                                           
                                            Chapter One

Feral. That's what they called us. Those who knew of us. It was ignorance bred from fear – fear of life on the outside, and fear of us. The Council said without it we would be far more vulnerable, that their fear was our greatest strength. I preferred a strength I could touch.

Sometimes I would climb to the top of the Great Oak – the one that had somehow survived the devastating effects of the biochemical warfare – and stare out at the impenetrable, domed expanse of bright white that climbed and dipped as far as the eye could see. They said there was a roof like the sky at the top. They said humans beneath it had developed differently; but no one could corroborate the myths because no one had been inside ... and returned.

The stark contrast of lush forest before miles of deceptive brown dirt, culminating in a security fence four oak trees high, never failed to fascinate me. It represented the difference between us, in what our lives had become.

I leapt back down the tree, trusting the foot and fingerholds I knew with my eyes closed, and crouched in the soft grass beside my favourite water hole. It was one of the first the Outsiders had trusted in the early days, as its trickling source began high in the hills of the craggy moorland mountains surrounding the only home I'd ever known.

At the time of the Great War, before nature was allowed to reclaim what was once a bustling city, the moorland forest had covered only a few square miles. Now it stretched as far as the eye could see, swallowing up eerie ruins as it grew. It was dwarfed only by the monolithic Lifedome rearing up to the skyline, and swallowing one bite of the moon every night.