Aiden Beaks's Arc

Chapter 1 of 10

Aiden Beaks held his dead father's drive to the lamplight and knew he had no way to open it. The little black stick was encrypted. Somewhere inside sat a name: the man who wanted Aiden silenced. But Aiden owned no computer strong enough to crack it, and the cabin where he lived had no power at all. He crouched barefoot on the plank floor of the half-built workshop. Vines climbed the open walls. His father had left him tools, brushes, and this drive, hidden inside a jar of oil. His father had also left him a warning, scratched on the lid: They will come. Aiden was twelve, shirtless in the jungle heat, and completely alone. He knew of one machine that could do it. Up the slope stood a tall triangular house stacked in three levels, home to the snake masters who traded in secrets. They had computers. They also had a rule: no child crossed their door without paying a price. Aiden went anyway. The lower level was dark and warm. Aiden stepped inside and stopped. A snake lay coiled across the floor between him and the stairs. It was sleek and black, spotted with vivid red. Its head lifted. Its tongue tested the air. This was the guardian, and it had cornered him. Aiden did not run. Running, he knew, was how prey died. He lowered himself slowly and sat flat on the boards. He set his father's drive down beside him, in plain sight, and held still. The snake drew back, ready to strike. Aiden breathed slow. He kept his eyes soft, his hands open, his body small. He spoke to it in a low, even voice, the way he spoke to frightened things. "I'm not here for you," he said. "I'm here for what's upstairs." Something strange happened then. Warmth spread through Aiden's palms. The air around his hands seemed to hum. He had felt this before, in flashes he never understood, and always feared. The snake's head swayed. Its tense body loosened. It slid closer, not to bite, but to press its cool weight against his knee. Aiden stared at his own hands. He had not tamed the snake with tricks. He had done it with something inside him he could not name. The creature curled around his wrist and rested, calm. A voice came from the top of the stairs. "No one calms that snake," a woman said. Aiden could not see her, only her shadow bending on the wall. "No one but us. So the question, boy, is what you are." Aiden stood, the snake draped over his arm, the drive tight in his fist. He had come for a machine to read his father's files. Now the masters had seen his power, and they wanted answers he did not have. The door behind him was open. He did not turn toward it.