The seed was warm in Kael's hands. It should not have been warm—nothing in the Dead Zones was warm anymore—but it hummed with a low, steady vibration that traveled up his arms and settled somewhere behind his ribs, where the old hunger lived.
He had been walking for three days to find it. Three days through irradiated scrubland, past the rusted skeleton of a freight train that had not moved in two hundred years, across a river that ran with chemical runoff and the occasional corpse that the upstream settlements flushed when the filters failed. Old Maren had told him where to look. "Deep in the corporate ruins," she said, her voice...
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