Chapter 3

The wolf stares at me, its four eyes narrow and glowing a bright, vicious green. 

It wants to bite me—to snarl and snap and drive me away. It always wants to drive me away, for I know its face and its feelings as if they were my own. It pulls its lips into a snarl and bares white fangs taller than me. The black-furred titan is a hulking, daunting beast built from nightmares and forgotten tales. 

Why it fears me, I don’t know.

But it does. 

Perhaps because, even though my heart is pounding, I’ve lived what comes next too many times to feel truly afraid. Its muzzle opens wide—wide enough that I could step inside the cavern of its mouth—and it roars, the cry deep enough to shake the depths of the inlet. My hair blows back. Spittle strikes my face. I used to drop, to cover on the ground. But I’ve come to understand that the roar means the beast’s time is up. 

My breath catches with anticipation a moment before he appears. 

The sword, as wide as my forearm and longer than my sister’s formal coat, cleaves the monster in half. 

With a parting howl, the wolf vanishes into smoke. 

And there he is. My warrior. 

His blackened armor riddled with the scores and scars of countless battles, his black hair falling in damp locks around a face with features sharp enough to cut glass. But it's always his eyes that catch me, a violent, smoking blue. An impossible blue. As unreal as the man ringed in the mists of dreams. 

Now he’ll hold out his hand and beg me: Find me.

Then I will plead with him to tell me how. 

Even though it is hopeless, even though that is all he ever says, I long for those two words. Aching to hear that low voice that echoes in my head long after waking. Looking up at him, I hold my breath and wait.

“Wake up.” His voice rolls over me.

“What…” I blink at him in shock. “What did you say?”

“Wake up,” he repeats. The mist seems to stretch outward from behind him, wrapping around his shoulders and reaching into my eyes. I try to blink my vision clear, but everything around me plunges into the smokey hues of pain. 

“You said something new.” My throat is so tight I can barely whisper. “You never say anything new.”

“Wake up.” His voice is fading into the fog of the dream. “It’s not safe.”

“Did I… find you?” I try to step closer, and discover I can’t seem to move. “I found you. All these years and I found you.”

“Too late.” His face waves, cheekbones pulling into smokey tendrils. 

“Wait!” I reach out, desperately trying to catch him. “Who are you? Tell me who you are!”

But he vanishes, all that heavy armor evaporating into threads of mist, like morning frost in the glare of the sun. That sun catches my eyes, the glare washes across my eyes, thrusting everything into a blanket of white.

By the time I blink them clear, I’m alone. 

I am also on a bed, in a room I don’t recognize. 

Scrubbing my hand across my face, I try to clear the remnants of dream from my eyes, to take stock of where I am. Which is… surprising, as I’m flat on my back, beneath a soft gray blanket. Above me are high ceilings with an unfamiliar curve at the peak, where buttresses form an elegant pattern in shades of white. 

It’s cement, but painted white and taller than I’ve ever seen. 

I prop myself up and glance to the sides, discovering that my bed is one of many.

The room is long and lined with tall windows—a row of them marching along both sides of the space and precisely aligned with the beds beneath them. Sure, both beds and windows are narrow, yet there are so many that I have to take a moment to simply marvel at them. I’ve never seen so many windows—not even the top floor of the Ministry has such high portals, or so many in a single place. 

Where am I?

I give my head a shake and my vision wobbles. Damn. It feels like all the wool from the scrap bin has been stuffed liberally around my brain. My thoughts are soft. Padded. As if trying to protect me from whatever had landed me in the room. 

I can’t have that. I need to know what happened. 

Closing my eyes tight, I will my memories to rise to the surface. 

I had been going to work—no, I’d made it to work. I’d been in Dove’s office waiting for the delegation and then our mother arrived… 

Memory strikes with the force of the rising tide against the sea wall.

The Odinshade had attacked. 

Byt all the dead gods, did I actually stop a titan? I remember holding onto its wild, raging emotions and telling it to stop, to not strike my sister. I remember the shock of that massive titan bending to my will. And then…nothing. Did it leave? Or did I fall and it continued its assault? Curse my weakness for collapsing so quickly. My mother cried out as I fell, I think, but I can’t recall what she said. 

I don’t even know if I saved my sister. 

Dove. Is she okay? 

I have to know. 

The blanket is light and somehow I struggle to get myself out from under it and swing my legs around to sit up. Chest heaving from the effort, I grip the edge of the bed as the room spins around me. 

Gods, but I am exhausted. 

And why is it so hard to lift my arms? Brow furrowing, I adjust my grip on the bed and something clinks against the bed frame. Something heavy—something wrapped around both my wrists. 

“What…” I look down.

Heavy bands of steel circle my wrists. The metal is polished and gleams with a dark-edged silver hue. It’s marked with runes and lines of power that glow blue against the smokey steel. They’re at once completely foreign and oddly familiar. Recognition tugs at the back of my mind—I’ve seen these before, I know it—but there’s something so impossible, so incongruous about these bracelets on me that my brain can’t get past it. Or perhaps it’s this strange room, scrambling all my senses. 

Taking a breath, I scan the space. 

Movement flashes at the far end of the narrow room and I blink to bring the source of it into focus. It's tall, and shifting from side to side in a curious manner. As my vision sharpens, I realize it’s a person, arranging glass-housed items on a shelf. 

“H-hello?” My voice breaks and I clear my throat. “Hello, there! Can you help?”

The person pauses, places a final jar on the shelf, and then approaches. As they draw closer, I can see their crisp white uniform is marked with a red Warden crest—this particular sigil belongs to the medical corps. Are they an orderly? Have I been taken to a new medical center on the North Shore? 

“Ah, Miss Strand.” The person smiles down at me. “You’re awake.”

“I… yes,” I manage. “Um…where are my mother and sister?”

“Externals are not allowed in this facility,” the orderly says gently. 

“Not allowed…but my mother always comes with me. She goes everywhere on the North Shore…” 

Unless I’m no longer on the North Shore. 

My mother would tell me to be calm, cool and civil, to be a testament to my family and trust that I’ll learn my location when the time is right. But she’s not here and I can’t stop myself from blurting out. “Where am I?”

Surprise briefly shapes the orderly’s eyes. “The medical wing, Miss.”

I can’t look away from the orderly’s red warden sigil. 

The orderly’s expression confirmed my mother’s assessment: I’d probably just shamed my family by failing to act collected and entirely at ease with wild uncertainty. Or he simply thinks I’m painfully slow. Either way, apparently I’ve shocked him into silence. 

My gaze shifts from the warden sigil to the name embroidered across the upper right of the uniform. Hans Takani. Likely that makes him a male medical orderly—something I’ve never seen in any medical facility before. In fact, to the best of my knowledge, there is only one place in all of Vanhold that seeks out male orderlies. 

My voice is the barest whisper as I prompt, “Medical wing of where?”

Hans’ eyes might declare pity, but his voice is calm as he says, “The Hold.”

I gape at him. “The…Hold? No. No way. I would be…”

“In the Aegis compound,” he says. 

The Hold is where the Wardens live. And train. 

My eyes widen and I lift my hands, staring in shock at the bracelets on my wrists. That’s where I know these from: the Academy. Every empath with the potential to become a Warden mind witch is given a pair of these bracelets to shape their abilities during their time at the academy. 

An academy I’d applied to three times—which had rejected me three times. 

And now…I’m wearing a pair? 

“H…how do I have these?” I ask.

Somehow Hans looks even more sad for me. “It’s required for all trainees, Miss.”

“Trainee?” I gasp at him in open bewilderment. “No! That’s impossible. I’m not a trainee—I’ve been rejected. I’m too old now. My birthday was last month and it’s already rare for you to admit anyone before their eighteenth birthday. But after? No way. There’s no way…” I shake my head, wondering if I hit it harder than I realized. 

A trainee? 

This is insane. Am I insane? 

Did I imagine the events in my sister’s office and instead of facing a titan I simply tripped over a wire and hit my head on her desk? That would make a lot more sense and align neatly with the rest of my life. 

“I assure you, Miss,” the orderly says. “You are a trainee and have been outfitted with the bands as befitting a new admit. But this is not for me to explain. They will be here to orient you shortly.”

He turns to leave.

I grab his sleeve. “Wait. Please. My sister, is she okay?”

It might have been my imagination, but his expression softened slightly. “I’m told Senator Strand and Administrator Dove Strand sustained only minor injuries. The vids report they’re being cared for at home.”

My entire body sags with relief. “Thank you.”

The orderly escapes my grasp. 

Unable to sit still, I gain my feet and stand in the middle of the ward on shaky legs. I want to chase the orderly and demand answers, but that door seems awfully far away and my body isn’t interested in cooperating. Gritting my teeth, I manage a couple steps and stagger forward, catching myself on the next bed. 

Gods, this is going to take forever. 

Well, fine. 

I throw myself at the next bed, and the next. By the time I’m four beds closer to the door, I’m panting and sweaty and very concerned about the fact that I did not confirm my hospital gown covers everything it should before beginning my trek. Sitting down on the nearest bed, I contemplate my options. 

I can go back—but that feels like defeat. 

I can go forward—but I’m certain my mother will skin me alive if I stumble half-naked into a Warden hallway. 

The only other option is to simply stay put until someone comes to get me, which is obviously the best possible decision, even if I have no idea how anyone in their right mind can stay still after waiting up in The Hold. My gaze darts from the bracelets on my wrists to the doors and back again. 

I’m about to throw caution to the wind and rush the hallway. 

Then she enters. 

Lilith Bane, the Mind Witch. 

Her hair is even brighter than the posters, her eyes a blaze of green. She’s even more beautiful in real life. More…everything. The air itself crackles and swirls around her, as if playing with the skirts of her floor-length black-and-green gown. Gods, I can almost see the iridescent pulse of power glimmer with each step. 

I stagger to my feet and bow my head. “Ma’am.”

Her laugh is warmer than mother’s spiced apple stew. “How delightful to see you on your feet, Miss Strand. Your recovery is a testament to your abilities. Allow me to personally welcome you to the Aegis Academy.”