Five
Coriane


I knew there would be hell to pay for my scheming. I thought it would be my father's disappointment, my mother's anger. Losing my brother's trust. A physical attack from the Bloodcry, even. I was ready for those things.

Not for this.

The wind howls past my ears as I cut through it, feet pounding against the pavement of the street. All those people back home—family, friends. People who have seen me and Shade through every childhood milestone, every birthday. Worried sick, because of me. Because I thought I could play with fire and emerge unscathed.

The tears don't stop. They haven't stopped since Kausa and I found the bloody eye and Shade's flamemaker.

Kausa. He told me he'd do everything he could to find my brother, before I left him standing next to the eye, the flamemaker in my hand, and bolted home. But what could he do? He was a brand new member, yet to be initiated, as his letter specified he would have to be before he was let in on any activity. He wasn't even given any names—just instructions; where to be and when.

We are blind.

It's torture.

I run without direction. I only know that I have to keep moving, or I might just crumple to the floor. Might bawl until my eyes are as dry as dust, and I won't have fixed this shitshow like I promised I would.

I know it was a horrible thing to do—writing a note instead of giving a proper goodbye. Leaving at all might very well have broken my mother into a thousand more pieces. But I'm awful and selfish, and I had to get out of there, every inch of me recoiling at the thought of Aunt Gisa or Grandma Ruth stroking my hair, comforting me for any longer. Especially when this is all my fault.

Yes, it was selfish. And stupid. My bracelet is gone, and all I have is a small butane lighter clenched in one fist. It's decades old, utterly useless in a house full of burners. I don't even know if it works. I don't test it, though. I'm too afraid to find out it doesn't.

I don't know what I'm expecting. A fight? And if so, where would the Bloodcry even be?

My legs don't still. The soles of my shoes slap against the street, drumming. My throat is on fire. Dad would tell me my breathing is all wrong. But with the sobbing gasps that accompany each inhale, it's difficult for my lungs to keep an even rhythm.

I turn sharply on an intersection, realizing where my feet are taking me. I see it in the distance, several blocks down, as I enter the lonely district I'd traversed earlier. Ascendant is big, sprawling, so beautiful and new. This is the only area that's been abandoned. It's no wonder the Bloodcry were able to take him—no one comes around these parts. No one would have seen a thing.

As I approach, I see the blood has been washed clean. I think Kausa did that—and all that's left is a soapy wet stain that will dry within the hour.

That's one detail that doesn't make sense. Why would they place their mark on pavement, visible to anyone who went for a stroll down this lane? How did they know I would stumble across it? Why in blood so distinct, so recognizable by half the people in the city? I suppose the streets were empty enough to risk exposure. It had been just after noon on a Sunday. But they've never taken risks like that before, as far as I know.

Did they know where I'd been? Had they seen me and Kausa in the park?

Cold dread licks its way up my spine. If that is true, then it was all for nothing. Making Shade hate Kausa, getting him expelled. I've cost the boy I love his future, and I might have cost my brother his life.

The thought makes me choke. No, stop it. Focus.

I force myself to slow. To stare at the wet splotch. There's no trace of the eye anymore, but it's not what I'm here for anyway. I scan the area, searching for a trail of gold, for signs of struggle. Shade is no fool, nor is he any sort of incompetent in a fight. He would have to be severely outnumbered for his attackers to restrain him, and even if they managed, they were likely badly injured. Injury means blood, and I scour the pavement for it, for both bronze and silver.

The area is a few feet away from an alley. I was an idiot for not checking it sooner.

A pale hand shoots out with blinding speed, and it's instinct alone that has me ducking, smacking the hand away and driving it hard into the corner of the building that looms on one side of the space. There's a harsh yelp, and I flick my wrist, ready to produce a ribbon of flame. White-hot this time and nothing like the harmless cord I made at school.

But nothing happens. With a pang of regret, I remember my bare wrist, and the lighter. My thumb spins the sparkwheel, and a little flame glows to life.

Then the lighter is knocked from my hand.

Dark as it is, I catch movement right at the back of the alley. Someone snatches my lighter from the air with deft fingers, placed oh-so-conveniently at the strange, unnatural trajectory's end.

A telky.

A snarl escapes me. What have I gotten myself into?

I back away, my eyes snapping to the streetlight a few feet from me. Could I use that somehow? Turn a spark of electricity into flame? I wish desperately that I was like my mother. That I could make and not just manipulate.

I pause my retreat, eyes straining to get a head count. One, two, three. Four. Five. Though one is braced against the wall, cradling the arm I'd bent in the wrong direction. The force had been enough to break the bone, at least crack a hairline fracture. Good.

"Looking for big brother, hm?" A snicker.

The voice isn't one I recognize. But I try to place it anyway, as they shuffle out from the alley onto the pavement. Four boys, one girl. Three are my age. One, the girl, is older, about twenty. One is younger. Fourteen or fifteen, from the looks of him.

Children. There are children among the Bloodcry. I scowl, keeping one eye on the streetlight. There has to be something I could use to break it, to access the sparks within and turn them into flames.

"C'mon, she's unarmed," the younger boy urges. "Just grab her."

I yield another step. I can't handle them all at once. I have to pick them off, one by one. The strongest appears to be the girl—woman, I should say. She's got at least half a foot on me, and a wider, stronger frame. She reminds me of Farley. Her fingers motion for the others to move, and they separate into two files and prowl in opposite directions.

To surround me.

My muscles coil. Remember the dance—and I strike.

I grab the boy closest to me—skinny but deceptively heavy—by his collar, and crack my elbow into his nose before pulling his head down into my knee. He collapses to the floor, bright Silver blood dripping from his nose to the ground beneath him.

I ignore the explosion of pain his skull inflicted on my joints. Two down.

The woman only smirks. "Know how to play, then?"

She lashes out so quickly that my brain only registers a blur. A silk. My feet—I silently thank my mother for their speed. They dance out of the way, whirling so not a second goes by with my back to them.

It doesn't matter. The telky grabs hold of my ankles from a distance and pulls, and I tumble towards the ground, readying to roll back into a fighting stance. I don't get the chance. Their hands are on me before I even hit the asphalt.

I kick my feet, hoping to knock one of them out with a well-placed blow to the face. Instead, my foot collides with something rock-hard, sending darts of pain slithering up the bones of my leg. Stoneskin.

"Get her quiet, Toren," the woman says. In answer, his fist collides with my stomach. I choke as the air is forced from my lungs, and agony explodes along my lower ribs.

"We take her to the same place?"

"Yes, I've just got to find—dammit, didn't anybody bring a flashlight?" She searches the alley, crouching low.

I can't let them knock me out—one hit like that to my head, and I'm gone. My lighter—I have to find my lighter. Heart hammering, I look for the telky boy, and find him holding my right arm. The lighter is still clenched in one of his fists.

I don't give myself time to think. I spit in his face and jerk my arm away with all my strength as he recoils. He doesn't let go completely, but it's enough to free my wrist as I yank a second time, and ram my flattened hand into his throat. He wheezes harshly, both hands flying to his neck.

The lighter clatters to the street.

The youngest boy, the one whose arm I broke, lunges for it. But he is too far.

I snatch it up and roll the sparkwheel. And before any of them can take the lighter again, they are repelled by a wall of flame.

"Shit," the telky barks.

My limbs are released; even the stoneskin—Toren—lurches back. His eyeballs, after all, are still completely vulnerable. Larger and larger I grow my shield around me, and I rise unsteadily from the ground as they scramble away.

"Kine," the woman hisses at the telky. "Take it away from her!"

"I can't see," he answers back, fumbling as I raise my wall higher. It costs me. My breath comes in shallow gasps, and it takes every ounce of concentration to keep the barrier from guttering out. I need to train with injuries more, build a tolerance. I can't hold out this way for long.

I keep the shield up until I'm sure I can stand without keeling over. Then I let it burn away slowly, the rising edge ebbing into a small, dancing line between me and my opponents. The telky rips the lighter free from my grasp again, but it hardly makes a difference. I turn the flames into tendrils that race towards their shoes, their pants. Threatening to catch. For the stoneskin, I keep them close to his eyes, his nostrils, any openings to the vulnerable flesh beneath the hard exterior.

"How did you know I'd be here?" I say, voice thick with pain. My abdomen throbs violently from the stoneskin's blow.

The silk, restricted by a blazing coil surrounding her, barks, "Not a word!"

I make the flames hotter, pouring more of myself into them. I'll tire quickly this way, but at this point, I'm desperate, more frantic with each passing second that I don't know whether or not my brother is still alive. "How did you know?" I repeat. This time, I add more questions. "Why did you leave the eye here for anyone to find? How could you have known I would see it?"

It makes enough sense, a part of me thinks. This area of the city stays empty due to its distance from the center, which is why I enjoy coming here to be alone and gather my thoughts. The park is further west, closer to more active districts. But to get home, I have to come this way. Have they been watching me? Have they learned my habits? I wonder again if they saw me and Kausa together. I didn't think they would keep such close tabs on me. So much of the plan is already unraveling. I hold a hand to my chest to keep the despair under control.

They are silent for too long. They are caught, like cornered animals. But they are too still. Their eyes don't show nearly enough fear.

Sweat glows on their temples. It drips down, gathering at their brows. They're being baked alive. But there is a set to the telky's mouth, a concentration that can only mean he's using his ability.

I should have kept him blinded with my flaming wall. I don't know how his power works, if he can feel all objects like magnetrons can feel metals. Does he sense disturbances in the air? Is it like a net, cast upon everything around him, with even the slightest change in surroundings immediately apparent?

I don't know. But I duck at the last second. It saves me a broken skull. But the telky changes the brick's course swiftly, and it catches me in the stomach, right where the stoneskin had hit.

My flames gutter as my breath is knocked from my lungs, though I fight to keep them from burning out completely. I twist as the silk flits toward me, her fist missing me by a hair's breadth. She snorts. "You're certainly quick," she says, "Almost like me. You'll get there one day. Maybe."

I tense, readying myself for her blow. I curse my bare wrist. If I had my bracelet, it wouldn't be me down on one knee. In a split second, I consider my options. I could keep fighting, could sweep her legs from under her and try to take her on. But there are too many behind her. I won't last, not if they use their powers, while mine are no use if I don't have something to start a fire.

Lightning-fast, the silk pulls back her arm. I don't close my eyes. I stare at her, memorizing her face in the dim light. I do the same for all their faces. She looses a tiny gasp, sucking in oxygen to fuel her muscles, and I brace myself. I pray they'll take me to wherever my brother is.

I hear it before I see it.

The zing of metal whizzing through the air. The silk freezes.

It's like a serpent, a rope of steel writhing along her arm. I blink as it yanks backward, securing her hands against her spine. Then it swoops, and she's pulled violently to the ground.

Shit. They've found me.

I watch as each of my attackers are restrained. The stoneskin hits the asphalt with a loud crunch, and the telky boy's eyes narrow in concentration at his binds. It's no use. They slither along his limbs with practiced ease, the kind of expert manipulation I've only seen from one person.

I can feel her sidling up behind me, her gaze boring into my back.

I frown, a thousand excuses already on my tongue. My head turns as I speak. "Evangeline, I—"

The words become caught in my throat. Not her. Him. His silver hair glows in the light from my meager flames, black eyes scrutinizing me with intensity. I swallow. I've never been this close to him before. I've never even spoken to him.

Ptolemus Samos knits his brows. "What do you think you're doing?"


He's silent as he hauls the last boy against the outer wall of the old butcher shop, lifting him easily, as if he were no more than a sack of grain.

I just stare from my spot on the curb, unsure what to do. My abdomen still throbs, and I can already imagine the bruises that will form. The large, splotchy, nearly-black kind. I clutch my stomach, hand fisted. This is a disaster. What am I supposed to do now?

Ptolemus eyes me once he's finished with my attackers, having propped them all up neatly, equally spaced from each other. They look at him with a mix of rage and fear. He's bound every limb, from their hands and wrists to their knees and ankles. Not even the stoneskin can break free.

The telky's eyes keep darting around, as if looking for something to lift and fling at us. It's only then that Ptolemus speaks.

"No use trying, boy," he says, voice low and even. "You know what that is." He gestures to the binds.

I squint to get a better look. They really do look like serpents, formed from hundreds of small metallic scales. But as firmly as they hold, I notice Ptolemus's face looks heated, as if the effort to keep the scales together is taxing.

I realize why as the telky stares intently at shards of broken glass from a window across the street. None of them so much as budge.

Silent Stone. Chips of it dipped in liquid steel.

I swallow. Just how strong is Ptolemus? That he might be able to grab hold of the metal, despite its proximity to the suffocating stone?

He pulls a receiver from his belt, and the sound of static fills the night air as he presses one of the buttons.

"What are you doing?" I blurt. My chest tightens when he cuts his gaze in my direction.

I know the story. The battle at Corros prison, the lightning that rained down on the Silvers when Shade Barrow was killed right before Mom's eyes. By a needle through his heart, guided by the man in front of me. They said my uncle was dead before he hit the ground. They said he didn't know he was going to have a child.

I don't know what to feel now. Anger? I love Clara. She's like a sister to me. Ptolemus is the reason she knows her father only from recounted memories. The reason my grandparents, Mom, Uncle Bree, Uncle Tramy, and Aunt Gisa hold to each other tightly at gatherings. To this day, more than two decades later, Shade Barrow's absence still haunts them.

But right now, even as he stares me down... there's no malice in his expression. Just a sense of duty, if not a bit of unease. It seems we are mutually uncomfortable. I catch myself leaning away, Even so, he must not sense any hostility from me either, because his finger eases from the receiver's button and he makes a step toward me.

He jerks his head towards his captives, muttering, "They need to be picked up by Security."

My heart stumbles, and I feel my eyes go wide. "No."

His jaw sets. "What?"

"I—I mean… don't involve them. Not yet."

He lifts a brow and motions to his patrol uniform. They're already involved, he seems to say. But I shake my head and glance at my attackers. Ptolemus is quick to understand, sighing and making his way into the old shop. He glares pointedly at his captives. "If you so much as move your toes, I'll know. Don't try anything."

Then he looks at me just before he disappears behind the door, as if he expects me to follow.

My stomach clenches, but I do it, my feet heavy as they shuffle me forward. I turn back once, and each of the Bloodcry members watches me with disdain. I scowl back, stepping into the shop, the smell hitting me like a well-aimed tomato to the face.

Mildew and mold, like a refrigerator that's been left unplugged for too long. Nothing was left behind. There are only the marks on the floor from where the glass display box stood and small holes for screws where there must have been some shelves. Dust covers every surface. We leave tracks as we walk.

Ptolemus stays close to the wall, where he has a clear view of the Bloodcry through the shop window. He crosses his arms and toys with one of the rings on his fingers, staring at me expectantly. When I say nothing, he mutters, "Well?"

It takes me a few moments to find my voice. "My brother is missing."

He blinks slowly, expression blank. "Missing."

Don't cry. Don't cry. "He was taken. Abducted. I was on my way home and I found his flamemaker bracelet. Next to some of his blood."

Again, I feel an intensity emanating from him, his hawk-like eyes never losing focus as he processes my words. He slips his ring back on securely, not even needing his other hand to do it. "And you decided it was a good idea to look for him? Alone—after dark?"

I flush, my cheeks growing hot. Not even an hour has passed since then, and already I question myself. "I wasn't thinking straight."

"No," he agrees, and I try not to feel like a scolded child. "As I said, I need to notify Security about this. They'll come and pick this lot up. Someone will ask you some questions and make sure you get home. Your parents are likely worried." He pulls on his shirt at the mention of them. I know the subject makes him nervous—Evangeline told me so, when I was six and I'd asked why her brother and Wren Skonos never came over for dinner like she and Elane did. He's not welcome around your mother, she'd said. Maybe someday she'll tell you why.

I don't want to think what Mom would say if she saw me right now. I shut out the thought of her as I say, "Wait. I need to find him first."

Ptolemus shakes his head, and again I feel like a petulant schoolgirl. "By yourself? Use your head, girl. Leave it to the system." He turns to leave, hand just about to reach into the hole in the door—it doesn't even have a knob—before I speak again.

"Please. I can't face them." I don't even know what I'm asking. For help? For him to let me go? Would I even want his help?

Nonetheless, it gives him pause. He looks over his shoulder at me, and I let him see all my misery. "What do you mean?"

I shouldn't tell him. I should just let him go, let him do as he sees fit. He knows better than I do; strategy is something ingrained in him, the result of being raised in a court. He lived and breathed battle and politics once. Learned from an early age how to play those kinds of games.

My eyes fall to my shoes, and I know I should just keep my mouth shut. It's what got me in this mess in the first place.

"This is my fault. I goaded them into taking him. I pushed it. I got him involved and now he's gone. It should have been me." It takes every effort to keep my voice steady. "It was supposed to be me."

A pathetic sound escapes me, and I can't bring myself to return his stare. The quiet stretches on, long enough that my ears start to ring. I don't want to look to see what he's thinking. I've embarrassed myself enough already, with my pitiful show of flames and my salted, damp cheeks.

No regret has ever burned in me like this. I desperately wish I could take it all back. If I had simply reported the letters like I should have… if I hadn't been so arrogant…

I'd thought it would come easy. I thought it was in my blood.

My hands ball into fists at my sides, and I sniff bitterly. "I have to get him back," I force through my teeth. "Tonight. I can't face my family if I don't have him with me. I have to." I say it more for myself than him, but when I finally make my eyes meet his, his stare has assuaged—just a little, so marginally that I think I might be imagining it.

Almost as if he wants to feel sorry for me.

"And what if they get you, too? They almost did, just now. Can you do that to your family?"

I glower at him. "That won't happen again. I wasn't ready. I was frantic and my head wasn't clear." I peer at the Bloodcry, stewing quietly as they strain against the Silent Stone. The silk seems the most irritated; I assume she was charged with leading this small pack of running dogs. She calls the shots, then. She knows more than the others.

And if she knows more than the others... she's worth more to me.

Slowly, so painfully slow, I feel something else slowly start to fill me, pushing away the distress. Resolve; it's a welcome change. I focus on the silk, on her taunts and her confidence, how unafraid she'd been of me. As if she knew she would win.

I wipe my face, breathing deep. Arrogance would do me no good, nor would feeling sorry for myself. I had made a promise to myself and my family when I slid that note under a potted plant for them to find. Tonight was perhaps my only chance. Shade could be gone by morning. If he isn't already.

"I have two questions," I say, not looking away from the silk. He says nothing, waiting. "How devoted are you to your profession?"

He quirks an eyebrow in my periphery, surprised. "Devoted enough. Why?"

"I think I need your help. And it would mean breaking a few rules."

His eyes narrow, mouth tensing. "Why would I do that?"

I think carefully, finally glancing up and meeting his stare. "A million reasons. I can't do it alone, for one. That's obvious now. This is an issue that's been happening right under your system's nose, and it's too late for this mess to get sorted that way." I ease away from the window, stepping into a pace to focus my thoughts better. "If you hand them over to Security now, interrogations will take the whole night, and there's no guarantee they'll confess anything. I need a quicker, more effective solution." A dirtier solution.

But could I really do it? Seeing Kausa's act when I'd pretended to burn him, his face twisted with pain, had made my stomach churn. Do I have it in me to truly torture someone?

I don't think so. But maybe I don't need to go that far.

Not if I have Ptolemus on my side.

"Do you realize you could be asking me to jeopardize my position?" he mutters, expression hard.

My teeth tug on my lip. "I know. And if you really can't risk it, I understand." I stop in my tracks, trying to force the lump from my throat. "But Shade is my only brother. He's my best friend. I don't know how soon I can think of another way to save him."

Who else would help me? Certainly not my family; I'd imagine they'd lock me up in my room right now if they could. And I have no idea where Kausa is. Not a full hour ago, I'd been prepared to face this alone. It hits me just how impossible that would be, given I have no idea where to start looking. Ascendant is huge, its districts stretching for miles across the face of a mountain. Shade's been gone for hours. He could be anywhere in the city.

I clench my teeth against the hopelessness that again threatens to crest over me. I will set this right. There's not another option.

"Please," is all I say. I do my best to ignore the fact that I'm pleading with my uncle's killer. The irony is not lost on me.

He hesitates, deliberating. His silence spans the whole of a minute, and each second is suffocating. But he finally reaches for the radio, turns the knob, and holds his finger down on the button. "Eve? Code C."

I freeze. He doesn't look at me as he waits for a reply. He just thumbs his ring again, looking past the window's faded letters to the street beyond. Is this his answer? Does he mean to tell me no?

Evangeline's voice is irritated when she replies moments later. "Not now, Ptolemus. Cal's daughter's gone to look for his missing son alone and now their family's losing their shit."

I cringe.

"I know," Ptolemus says. "I've got her. She'll be back shortly."

A pause. "You're with her?"

"Yes. She got into a scuffle in the district I'm in charge of for the week, and she'll have to be questioned, but Rorrick will bring her home before midnight."

That explains how he'd found me. "No, wait," Evangeline urges. "Take her straight home, and don't tell anyone."

"It's already done, Eve. Tell Calore she's fine. Don't say it was me who found her."

"Obviously," she scoffs. "But hold on—"

He cuts her off by turning the knob again, and my heart sinks. He isn't helping after all. "Do you have to be so by the book?" I mumble.

In a quick motion, he slips his radio back onto his belt, then eyes me sternly. "Don't make me regret this, girl. We have three hours, at most."

I blink. A surge of emotion floods through me, though I'm not sure which one in particular. Gratitude? Fear? My fingers twitch with the sudden need to squeeze something—a hand, a fistful of my pants. Instead I just dig my nails into my palm, my heart stumbling at the now much realer possibility that I'll have my brother back by the end of the night.

I'm coming for you, Shade, I think. Just hold tight.

"Well?"

"Uh." A cough. "I—thank you." I fumble for words as he shifts his weight, uncomfortable with my thanks. "I'll find some way to pay you back. I don't make wages, but—"

He shakes his head once. "Don't bother. Just tell me what your plan is."

I release a hard breath, and I have no doubt he knows. Maybe he just wants me to say it so I have a chance to fully realize what I'm asking. But I don't have the time to second-guess myself. And with his help, as awful as it might be to find comfort in his assistance, I feel the assurance slowly returning. My family already knows I'm safe. It's one less thing off my plate.

I step up to the window, eyeing the silk as she glares at her bounds, frustrated. "It seems to me like the freezer in this place is fairly soundproof."

Ptolemus agrees.


In the end, it doesn't take much. I knew it wouldn't. She's tough, yes. Smart, yes. She was trusted to lead this small rag-tag group of lowly misfits. And leadership always says something.

But she hadn't anticipated Ptolemus Samos. A soldier more than two decades her senior, known throughout the States, Montfort, Piedmont, and the Lakelands as a ruthless and powerful warrior.

We learn her name is Cerise Hanille. She's from Monfort, though not from Ascendant. Her companions' names are Toren Baiton, Kine Wrestam, Finn Serosan, Perce Danoval. Stoneskin, telky, greenwarden, and animos, respectively. The one whose arm I injured is Perce.

The events of today were not official Bloodcry business. They are fledglings, associated with the organization only though their families. Sometimes, they are allowed to do inconsequential tasks. Kidnapping Shade was not one of them. That was a decision they'd made on their own.

I feel relief and panic all at once. This was the work of amateurs, greenhorns who had no real pull within the Bloodcry ranks. The bottom of the food chain. It makes me reconsider everything I've so carefully thought out these past weeks. These grunts had managed to take Shade. How much worse could higher-class members do?

Shade had been stolen purely by chance. It was me they were after. They were following me halfway through my wanderings about the city, when Shade decided to do the same. He knew where I'd be. He was on his way there. They seized the opportunity and grabbed him instead. Then they waited for me to return the same way and see the eye, but I'd been with Kausa. They hadn't known he was invited into the Bloodcry. They weren't sure how to proceed.

So they let me go. Kausa stayed behind and spotted them hiding in the alley. He reprimanded them for being careless and stupid in drawing the eye. He washed it away with moisture he'd pulled from the air and soap from a closed-down tavern nearby. He asked them for Shade's location. They wouldn't say. So he drove them from the alley and left. But later they returned, certain I would, too, if I hadn't already. If I was alone, they'd grab me. If I wasn't, I'd be left alone. And if they were discovered by someone else—like patrol—they were to act as a harmless bunch of bored teenagers, sulking in an alley just for the fun of it, their act made complete with a flask of hard liquor. Ptolemus quickly confiscates it, along with tins of thin paper rolls stuffed with herb that he finds in their pockets.

Cerise tells us nearly everything. Not any valuable information about the true members of the Bloodcry, but about Shade. They'd taken him to someone who paid good money for his capture. A doctor of the mad sort, who prefers live subjects to experiment on.

That part makes the blood drain from my stomach.

Half of me wants to keep pressing her. To push my bluff, have Ptolemus inch his needles, red-hot with my flame, just a tiny bit closer to her eyes. But we're short on time. We have what we need. He radios a colleague, and we wait in terse silence. When the colleague arrives with a pair of squad cars, I stay inside, and the detainees are carted away on substance charges.

Ptolemus motions for me to come out. We begin our hurried trek the relatively close to doctor's personal property. It's on the outskirts of the district just north of this abandoned one. We stay quiet. For the most part.

The exception is when he says, "I imagine you're quite like your uncle."

I don't have the nerve to ask him which one.


hi.

what do you guys think of my pacing? too fast? let me know, so i can work on it! and if you notice any plot holes, also let me know so i can address them in the story... somehow lol

i wont make any promises this time about when i'll post a new chapter, but i do plan on continuing the story. thank you so so much for reading.

xo