The story takes place on an island south of the Aegean Sea, where a sequence of realities were not to be recorded. Vienna, who was drawn in by thieves prior to a shipwreck, shares the knowledge with Anya, who once lived in a village on the island. It's a kind of knowledge the other orphans of the Polyhedron can't, or won't understand. And in waiting for the exact time to exit, Noah beats Vienna to it, making hers more convenient and delayed; it also forces her to work with her captor, Wilson. Meanwhile, Anya seeks, through a secretive mission to Serbia, to find Vienna's roots north of the Aegean Sea.
For Wilson, being honest means making people disappointed. Lying, on the other hand, is only a temporary concealment of fury. First by hearing someone shoot at the villager from behind him. Then by nearly driving ff a cliff in a golf cart. Then being ignored...again. And finally returning home after at least a decade since the day he ran away in frustration with his parents. Somewhere, there must be sanity.
Baila had been drawn into a situation she isn't ready to understood, but willing to commit to its effects so long as they aren't harmful, as is her brother, Raheel. Her sister, Risa is silent about the mysteries of the Polyhedron she feared before her consistent escapes on world voyages. To add to the confusion and chaotic anger of the orphans, a family moves into the village overnight; they come from north of the Aegean Sea. Larissa, whom Baila befriends after Vienna leaves, explains why they came, or rather, returned.
From what little memory I have, my family originated from north of the Aegean Sea. Since I was too young to remember names and words, faces and emotions clung to me since the disaster, and they are still as vivid as the rockets of fire that lit up the sky on the last few nights of our voyage.
At the time when I had a family, we went along with four-hundred other passengers on what was our one and only cruise. We were strangers heading out into the middle of nowhere, together, across the topaz of azure sea. That’s what I first recall, being under the ever-streaming dome of stars. My brothers and sisters ran up to the railing, gathering around me to fill up as much space as possible, inhaling the cool night sky. I was one of three siblings who were adopted.
Almost all passengers on the ship were taller than me. Annoyed with the fact that they had a better view of the ocean, I struggled onto my toes and begged my father to pick me up onto his shoulders. When he did, I was literally at the top of the world. Fireworks gleamed in our eyes, spreading their reflective glow to far edges of the unseen world. We owned the sky as the envious waves crashed against the strong ship, spraying our skin with sea salt.
Boom! Boom! Boom! How extraordinary it was!
As passengers, we were all from different parts of the world, sharing five floors with six-hundred rooms aboard the Grande Santa Maria Cruiser. I could barely reach the rails to peak over the side of the ship, even when struggling on my toes. Still, we all were sprayed by the crashing waves as we ran across the deck, barefooted. We were naïve then, not sure of the night talks the adults had, how the older kids swam in the first floor pool playing glow tag, and how we, my new friends, my siblings, and I played kickball while watching faraway fireworks from the middle of the ocean. They rippled like pouring rain above the palm trees of islands I don’t recall. They glittered in a path, crackling that flickered light across the dim horizon. We breathed under the stars, pointing out various constellations such as Aquarius, the water-bearer, and Volans, the flying fish.
My heart pounded a rhythm parallel to that of the fireworks, raining like drummers in a parade. My earliest memories were with people I hardly knew and those I had seen the day I had been brought to a new family. I don’t remember my birth parents, and I am not sure if I want to. The radiant combination of voices and music, the clinking of glasses, and the pelting of small feet across the drenched deck led to something beyond my future. The surprises to come were less promising than I imagined at the time.
One night, the waves lashed the rails as we held on for the ride that extinguished our peace. Screaming, pushing, pulling, and hoisting ourselves through the portholes at once, I rather jumped into the waves with a board of chipped wood squeezed against my chest. The waves sprang up all around us, viciously consuming the air we willed to hold on to. The sunset stretched gloriously as the simmering waves engulfed the horizon with vulgar malice. It was only another night that would become another morning. It was as if time was sly and waiting for the tyrant waves to smack our ship under the ocean.
I was among thirty witnesses and many faces lost at sea. I didn’t recognize anyone. They all sounded the same to me, frightened and calling for each other. I didn’t have all the words to scream because words made no sense, but the pounding of the waves and the thundering of my heart and streaks of tears soaking my face did make sense, so I just screamed for the sake of screaming. The sky screamed and howled back.
Torn apart were my words as the years dragged on. Torn apart were our strength, the lives we knew, and the comfort and familiarity. We were neglected in the middle of nowhere, together. We drifted far away from each other.