Original Syn. Beth Kander
by Beth Kander
Owl House Books
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All places, characters and events are fictitious. Any resemblance to actual places, persons or events is coincidental.
Published in 2018 by Owl House Books
Cover Designed by Daniel Dauphin
Interior Design by Leslie M. Browning
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1
DEDICATION
You.
You’re looking for your true self, while also looking out for others. You’re curious. You want something better. You’ve experienced failure. You’re always asking big questions… and that’s why you will be part of the biggest and best answers.
It’s also why this story is for you.
2
Prologue: Prophesies
“[Computers] will not just be doing arithmetic very quickly or composing piano music but also driving cars, writing books, making ethical decisions, appreciating fancy paintings, making witty observations at cocktail parties… maybe we’ll merge with them to become super-intelligent cyborgs.”
–Lev Grossman, “2045: The Year Man Becomes Immortal,” Time magazine, February 2011
“Standing here, I almost see
The girl I was, the crone I’ll be,
The Blessing of age, passing of time
Teaching us all, profane and sublime,
We will never relent, we will never rely
Thus we will live.
And thus we will die…”
–Song of the Original Resistance, circa 2030, author unknown
“The outsider inside will end the beginning.”
–Prophecy from Heaven, 2063
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Preface: Karma
Karma is tired of being told to wait.
She knows she should listen to the war-scarred people telling her to wait—wait for the next update, wait for more intelligence, wait until the time is right, wait wait wait.
But when is the time ever right?
Sometimes it is not about the right timing. It is about being in the right—today, tomorrow, right the hell now.
As soon as she thinks this, she knows it in her bones to be true. And so a decision is made.
Patience be damned.
Karma is done waiting.
Chapter 1: Ere
The attack is coming any second. Ere’s eyes dart from side to side, his sinewy limbs tightening as he assesses his own borders.
Left, right, behind, below, above—as soon as he thinks above, he hears a quick puff of breath as his attacker drops down toward him. Ere scrambles away, ungracefully but successfully avoiding getting clobbered.
“Curse of the world,” he swears, heart hammering in his slim chest.
“Close call, runt,” Cal says, idly brushing bark from his shoulder. “Lucky I warned you.”
The cousins look nothing alike. Ere is small, lean, and pale, with a shock of straight sandy hair. Cal is tall and broad, with tight black curls, huge dark brown eyes, and wide, thick brows arched mockingly at Ere.
“You didn’t warn me—”
“Like hell I didn’t,” Cal says, flicking bramble at Ere, flexing the taut, rounding muscles in his arm. The boys wear similar clothing—faded denim pants, tattered old cotton shirts; but on Ere, the outfit emphasizes his thin limbs. On Cal it celebrates his enviable physique. “Made enough noise for a dead man to hear me coming. Shouldn’t have let me get that close to crushing you.”
“Well, you missed,” Ere retorts.
Cal’s dark eyebrow lifts. “Did I?”
In a single-handed flip, he pins Ere flat against the earth.
“Curse of the—”
Cal’s massive hand covers Ere’s face. Ere struggles, then goes limp; Cal does not loosen his grip. So Ere opens his mouth, snaking his tongue at his cousin’s salty hand.
“Ugh!” Cal snorts, rolling off of Ere, rubbing his hand across his shirt in disgust. “Is that your strategy if a Syn comes after you? Lick them?”
Ere shrugs. For all they know, licking might be a fine defense. They hate and fear the Syns without knowing much about them; very little information is required to fuel deep hatred among people who have never even met.
It only recently occurred to Ere that knowing so little about his enemy is probably foolish. Identifying liabilities like that is important; his mother taught him that.
His mother is always alert to impending threats. Ruth Fell’s sixth sense has kept the entire tribe alive more than once. Until recently, Ere didn’t understand how his mother could just have a feeling about something, react accordingly, and pretty much always be right.
His great-uncle Howard was the same way before he got old and forgetful. The tribe used to joke that while everyone erred on the side of caution, the Fells erred on the side of apocalypse.
“Yes,” Howard replied, back when he knew himself, back when he was still strong, back when he stood tall and unapologetic, with fierce and focused eyes. “It’s because I have firsthand experience with the world coming to an end.”
Ere is new to listening to his gut. But the older he gets, the more his gnawing sense of iminent danger is just undeniably there, taking root and growing as persistently and uncomfortably as the hair in his armpits. Ere would rather be big and strong than paranoid. His prayers for more muscles and broader shoulders to accompany all the paranoia and pit hair have all gone unanswered. All the family brawn remains reserved for his cousin.
Ere and Cal are the best of friends and fiercest of rivals. Cal, barely three years older, dominates in every category. All the family’s strongest stock was spent on him, leaving Ere scrawny and sidelined. More than anything, Ere resents the resulting disparity in respect. Cal is seen as an adult, Ere as a child. Ere wishes that he could at least claim that he was smarter than Cal, but he can’t; Cal is smarter, stronger, nicer to the elders, and just generally a better human being.
“Have you seen my mother?” Ere asks, hating the whine he hears in his voice.
“She’s with