by Anna Webb
There was an unaccountable wistfulness in Jason’s voice, and he seemed to be lost in a memory. Yet, he spoke steadily and confidently, bringing the past to life almost as if he’d lived it. She was suddenly reminded that once, in the Elemental Trials, Gemma had suggested Jason was the person to go to for a history lesson. Perhaps if she had heeded Gemma’s advice, she could’ve spared herself the torturous boredom of listening to Master Marais.
“It sounds—complicated,” Allyra said with a shudder. The very idea of having someone permanently in her mind—accessing her memories, her dreams, her fears—sounded utterly monstrous. Though, she could acknowledge how it might be useful in The Five Finals. “And if you think you’re getting in my head, think again.”
“As if I would want to open my mind to the chaotic mess going on in there,” he said, tapping the side of her head with his finger.
Faster than a cobra striking, Allyra grabbed his finger. “Stop,” she said. “Unless you want to lose this finger.”
He laughed, and for a moment, Allyra glimpsed the man hidden behind the arrogant mask—young and maybe more brittle than he cared to admit and so, so handsome. With his looks, Jason already had so many people—female and male alike—desperate for his attention, but if he showed them this open, more sincere version, they’d probably fall over themselves offering him love and devotion.
Allyra hardened her heart, reminding herself that she would not be naïve or gullible enough to fall for his deceptive charm.
“I’d like to keep this finger,” he said, gently extracting it from her grip. “And no, I’m not suggesting we get Tethered. That usually takes months and years to build the requisite amount of trust. Time isn’t exactly on our side. Besides, your mind should always be your own, Allyra.”
The seriousness of his tone made her look up, surprised. It wasn’t what she’d been expecting.
He met her eyes frankly. “Once you give your mind away, you can never truly have it back again. It isn’t something to take on lightly, and certainly not just because you want to win The Five Finals.”
She let out a small, sarcastic laugh. “I thought you’d feed me to the wolves if it meant having a chance at winning.”
He didn’t smile, and the intensity of his indigo eyes sent a shiver thrilling down her spine. “I’m serious, Allyra. Be careful. Protect your mind.”
“So, some of the pairs are Tethered?”
Jason nodded. “I’m not a hundred percent sure, but there are small signs if you watch carefully enough.”
“For example?”
“For example—I’m pretty sure Xolani and François are Tethered. They seem to know what the other is going to do a split second before they should. Besides, they’re in it to win, and Tethering is a significant advantage they wouldn’t forego.”
“Also,” Jason continued. “I’m fairly certain that Henri and Adriana are Tethered too.”
This particular tidbit of information made Allyra sit up, reanalyzing every one of her previous interactions with the pair. The quiet shared glances, the practiced touches. Had each been some kind of silent communication between shared minds?
“They’ve never mentioned it.”
“They wouldn’t—it’s not something you scream from the rooftops. Tethering is a strength, but it can also be a weakness. Hurt one mind enough and any others linked to it will also be destroyed.”
* * *
The corridor was quiet, filled only with a warm, heavy silence that hinted at the lateness of the hour. Not even the most committed of insomniacs would still be awake, and tonight, she’d only been kept from her bed by a nasty gash in her arm that had resulted in a visit to the infirmary. The wound in question had been the result of a late-night training session—a pointed reminder that sharp objects and exhaustion did not mix well together. Jason had been exhausted as well since he was usually far too skilled and precise to actually cut her.
The cut was neither deep nor particularly serious, and her Gifted healing would’ve taken care of it in time. However, Jason had insisted on the stitches that required the trip to the infirmary. Her arm was now neatly bandaged with five tidy stitches beneath, pulling her flesh together, speeding up an already quick healing process. In two or three days, the cut would be no more than a fading scar. While that was encouraging, the whole experience had felt like a giant waste of time. Time that she would’ve preferred to spend sleeping. It was particularly ironic that Jason—who’d insisted on her visit to the infirmary—hadn’t bothered to accompany her and was probably, at this very moment, fast asleep.
Allyra turned the corner and found herself at the door to the Council Chamber. She hadn’t intended on coming here tonight though she had to admit that the combination of the late hour and empty corridors made for a perfect opportunity to search for more memories.
And yet she hesitated. A small voice in the back of her mind, one that she heard less and less these days, warned her that she was torturing herself with these memories of Alex. He belonged in the past and was lost to her—it was time to let him go.
Yet the very idea of never seeing him again made her chest cave in on itself, and without giving herself time to think further, Allyra stepped forward to the Council Chamber door and offered her hand to the Sentinels who awaited her. She whispered her name, and the door slipped open. Allyra walked in and stepped straight into a memory.
The Council members were seated with Alex at the center of them, and if he saw her, he made no sign of it. She slipped into a seat and took the opportunity to finally study the people who made up the Council in Alex’s time.
First was the dark-haired Terra High Master that she knew to be Alex’s older brother Thomas. The family resemblance was clear for all to see—Thomas Cairns was the template from which Alex had been drawn. He was a little broader than his younger brother and lacked the fine, elegant lines that made Alex so remarkable. It was as if Thomas Cairns had been sculpted by an artist still learning his trade, who had later perfected his art with Alex. Allyra wondered briefly if this trend of increasing artistry had continued with the youngest of the Cairns brothers. Next to Thomas Cairns sat High Master Laurent of the Atmospheric College.
Alex occupied the raised, center seat. His expression was serious, and it appeared that the weight of responsibility that came with being the Elemental High Master had swept away the easy carelessness that she’d seen in previous echoes. He had stepped onto the path that would eventually lead him to being the man she’d met in the Between.
The Inferno High Master sat to Alex’s left. Allyra studied her with some interest—this was the woman who had saved the Gifted from the full impact of the Betrayal. According to history, she was who Matthew Cairns had turned to when he had discovered his brothers’ treachery.
Allyra knew from her conversation with Master Marais that the Inferno High Master hadn’t been an Elemental. Like Matthew Cairns, she was an Inferno—a powerful one to have been chosen to serve on the Council. She was middle-aged, but her beauty was undeniable. Even seated, it was obvious that she was tall, carrying herself with stately confidence. She had long hair, the color of autumn leaves, held up by a pair of combs made of bone. Her eyes were a startling shade, indistinguishable between blue and green. But within them, there was a hardness that gave Allyra pause.
The final member of the Council was a small man with a round, boyish face, made insignificant by his proximity to the Inferno High Master.
The door sliding open interrupted Allyra’s study of the Council, and she stiffened as two Cleaners walked through, their silver masks hiding their identities. Another two Cleaners followed, dragging between them a boy, whose thin body seemed to be too exhausted to take a single step. When he lifted his head, Allyra saw through his long, filthy hair that his face was covered in bruises with one eye swollen completely shut.
Just thinking about the beating the boy must’ve taken made Allyra queasy. She tightened her fingers into fists, wishing she could step into the past and beat
the Cleaners as they had surely beaten the boy. Her disgust for Cleaners grew.
The last person through the door was yet another Cleaner, but this one was a little different. Instead of a plain silver mask, this Cleaner wore one that was half gold and half silver.
The boy was dragged before the Council, and he stood before them with his wrists bound in iron and his head bowed—the very picture of defeat.
“What is your name?”
Alex’s voice was kind and she could hear a hint of pity in it. Perhaps the boy heard it too, because suddenly, he looked up, and Allyra nearly recoiled at the hate burning within his eyes. He struggled against his restraints but refused to answer Alex’s question.
Instead, the Cleaner with the bicolored mask stepped forward and spoke. “High Master, we believe his name to be William Reilly though he has refused to speak since we recovered him.”
Alex nodded his understanding and turned his attention back to the boy. “You don’t need to speak, Mr. Reilly. However, it would be to your advantage to try to explain the actions that led you to stand before us.”
Defiance seeped through every pore of the boy, and if it were possible, the hate within his eyes seemed to burn even more brightly, focused entirely on Alex.
When it became apparent that William wasn’t going to speak, Alex continued. “The Gifted live by a Charter that defines the rules that we live by. Any transgression will lead to an audience before the Council, and unfortunately, you have transgressed. All of the Gifted are trained within the Great Colleges or registered to be trained by a Gifted parent. Only once they are determined to possess the necessary control over their Gift are they allowed into the world. You have done neither, and therefore, the use of your Gift is a contravention of the Gifted Charter, and, worse still, two people were killed, apparently through the uncontrolled use of your Gift.”
Alex paused and looked carefully at the boy, his blue eyes searching. William shifted his weight, uncomfortable but still defiant enough to stay silent. Having herself been on the receiving end of Alex’s probing glare, she felt a quick stab of pity for William and just a hint of awe at his ability to withstand it.
Shaking his head at William’s continued silence, Alex asked, “Do you not wish to explain yourself? The charges you face are serious, and the punishment can be death.”
“Why should I speak?” William spat out. “It won’t change anything. What right do you filthy pigs have to decide whether I should be allowed to use my power? The lost shall rise!”
He strained against his restraints, and they began to glow red as he tried to reach past the iron on his wrists for his Gift. The Cleaners stepped forward with military precision, forming a circle around William, efficiently joining their Gifts together to create a ward around him until he dropped into a dead stupor.
Alex motioned for them to take him away, and with a quick bow to the Council, the Cleaners picked up William’s prone body and dragged him away.
“We have a choice—the Elemental Trials, the dungeons, or death.” If he was affected by the decision before him, Alex’s even voice gave none of it away.
“There’s no need for a choice—he’s obviously a danger, we should put him to death,” The Inferno High Master’s voice was as sharp as the edge of a sword.
“I disagree,” Thomas said steadily. “He’s still young, we can train him. Ready him for the Elemental Trials.”
“We need to send a message to the Rising—that we will not tolerate their attempts to weaken the Council and all that we stand for,” the Inferno High Master said, acid dripping from her voice.
Alex held up his hand, putting a stop to the argument. “You both make good points—let us put it to a vote. The Elemental Trials—yes or no?”
The result was a tie—Thomas and High Master Laurent voted yes, while the other two voted no. Allyra knew Alex well enough to see that he had expected the result and knew that the final vote would fall to him.
With his expression carefully blank, he said, “The Elemental Trials it is then. Thank you, everyone.”
There was a finality to his voice that gave no room for any further argument though the Inferno High Master looked angry enough to spit nails. The members of the Council got to their feet and filed from the room, but Thomas hung back and waited until he was alone with Alex.
Thomas clapped his hand onto Alex’s shoulder. “You made the right choice.”
The expressionless mask finally slipped from Alex’s face, and he looked pained and completely spent. “Did I?”
“How can you even ask that? He’s just a boy, he didn’t know what he was doing.”
“Our continued leniency will be seen as weakness. You know my position is precarious, there is a growing fraction who believe me too inexperienced to be the Elemental High Master.”
“It doesn’t matter what anyone thinks—you were chosen.” Thomas’s voice was dismissive.
Alex smiled, but it didn’t reach his eyes, and it was clear that he didn’t agree with his brother’s assessment. He changed the subject quickly. “William was found in Terra territory—you’ll see that he’s properly trained and prepared for the Elemental Trials?”
Thomas gave a quick nod. “Of course.”
“Thank you. Would you send in the Golden Mask?”
Thomas nodded again and his fingers squeezed Alex’s shoulder in a reassuring, brotherly manner. “Please stop worrying so much—I know no person stronger or more rational than you. You were born to be the Elemental High Master.”
Thomas walked from the room, leaving Alex alone with Allyra. His eyes lifted to meet hers, and some of the tension seemed to leave him. She started to move toward him, but he gave a quick shake of the head as the door opened once more.
Once again, a Cleaner walked through, but again, this one was different from the usual silver-masked Cleaners. This Cleaner was dressed in the same black cloak, but his mask covered his entire face and was completely golden in color.
He bowed before Alex. “High Master.”
Alex inclined his head. “Golden Mask.”
To Allyra’s surprise, Alex stepped from the raised dais and pulled the golden-masked Cleaner into a hug.
“Why do you insist on the formalities?” Alex asked.
The Cleaner pushed the black hood from his head and pulled the golden mask off. The face beneath it was exceedingly familiar—Mandla.
“How many times do I have to remind you that we will need to keep up appearances for the times that we meet in public. The whole point of the mask is to hide my identity.”
“Well, I’m grateful to have the leader of the Cleaners on my side.”
“Always,” Mandla replied.
“Are you managing to control them? That boy was terribly bruised.”
Mandla shook his head. “No,” he said firmly, “that was not our doing. People are afraid of what they do not know, and when William Reilly was found unscathed in the center of an explosion, there was talk of sorcery. He was given a severe beating before we were able to get to him.”
Alex nodded. “I thought as much. Do we know the boy’s story?”
“We don’t know much, but he’s powerful, and he has been trained to some extent—illegally, but expertly.”
“The Rising?” Alex asked.
Allyra stiffened, she’d believed that the Rising had only been created in response to the Betrayal, to find whatever alternative truth they believed in. But now it seemed that they had been very much in existence in Alex’s time.
Mandla nodded, his expression serious.
“They’re becoming more organized, more dangerous,” Alex said. “We need to put a stop to this perversion of ideals before more people get hurt. Please put all your resources into rooting out the leadership of the Rising.”
“Of course. But the rumors of the Revenant?”
Alex let out a sharp bark of laughter. “One problem at a time. The Rising poses more of a risk now. They are acting on their corrupted beliefs, exploitin
g innocents like William, it is our responsibility to protect not only the Gifted but all humans. We need to put a stop to the Rising as soon as possible.”
Allyra allowed her hold over the memory to slip. She was shocked and horrified—everything she knew seemed to have been turned upside down. Not only was Mandla the head of the detested Cleaners, but according to Alex—the Rising was a corrupted and dangerous organization. The memory left her feeling unbalanced and out of sorts. She didn’t quite know what to believe anymore.
Am I doing the right thing? Trusting the right people?
She couldn’t help but question herself. Perhaps she was putting too much faith into these memories. They were powerful and clear, and she knew the strength of Alex’s Gift was enhancing her own. But, if that was the case—could her Gift be used to manipulate her? Could he be picking specific memories for her to see?
Allyra pushed open the doors to the Council Chamber, shaking her head. She hated living like this, never truly trusting anyone or anything. Perhaps not even herself. The corridor was empty, and Allyra leaned back against the wall, dropping her head back and closing her eyes.
Trust only the Gift.
She had to trust something or else she would spend the rest of her days questioning every move and every decision. If she could trust anything, it had to be her Gift and the memories it showed her.
Mind made up, Allyra opened her eyes only to find herself in yet another memory.
This one was less clear, and she had to concentrate, forcing her mind into the moment. Her vision sharpened and the picture came into focus.
Her father. Juliette Thiessen.
Sam Warden was young here, perhaps only in his late twenties. There was no trace of gray in his short dark hair and his eyes… Well, they were her eyes. For the first time, she realized why anyone who had ever known her father instantly recognized her as his daughter. But his eyes were not as she remembered. Gone was the calm kindness, replaced instead by frantic fear.
Appearing wildly paranoid, Sam glanced over his shoulder, reassuring himself that the corridor was indeed empty before turning back to Juliette.
