More jinsei hadn’t changed anything. The pendulum still didn’t move.
“I don’t know what to do,” Ishigara confessed. “Every one of the tests we’ve given has flat out refused to categorize Jace.”
“That’s not without precedent,” Sanrin said. “In the early days of the test, the roles weren’t as clearly defined. Many students didn’t discover their true aptitudes until nearer graduation. We should give him more time.”
“Time isn’t something we have anymore,” Ishigara noted. “The law is clear. He has to be assigned a role before the end of his third year.”
I considered what role I wanted. A noble role would admit me into the highest levels of Empyreal society. A militant background would give me access to soldiers and training that would help me in the fight that I knew was coming.
But, there was only one title that would let me stay at the School and continue doing what I needed to do. Without hesitation, I reached forward, grabbed the pendulum, and pulled it toward the scholar slot. I took my hand off the device, and the ball hung in the air, pointing at the same spot with the unerring accuracy of a laser.
“Jace,” Ishigara said, “you can’t decide you’re a scholar and leave it at that. There are rules.”
“If the Design wanted me to be something else, it would move the pendulum, right?” I asked.
“I suppose,” Ishigara muttered, sensing the trap closing around her. “But it didn’t assign you to the scholar role, either. You moved it.”
“So move it back,” I said. My technique had given me a glimpse of how this played out. I leaned back into the chair and waited.
“Fine,” Ishigara said. She grabbed hold of the pendulum and tried to push it back to its resting position.
The chain trembled. There was a low rumble, like the sound of a saw blade wobbling.
But the pendulum wouldn’t move.
“I’m going to see my initiates before they leave for the summer,” I said. “Let me know if the pendulum changes position. Otherwise, I guess I’m a scholar.”
I left the office and headed for the initiate dormitory.
I had a surprise for my students.
The Chaos
I WAS MORE NERVOUS about what I had to do next than I had been during the Empyrean Gauntlet. I’d put this off for days, but now I was out of time. Sanrin and I had talked about how to move forward, and we both agreed this was the right course of action.
Unfortunately, neither of us could see far enough into the future to know if we were geniuses or fools.
Christina spotted me, and the case I held under my arm, as soon as I entered the dormitory. She stood up from the bench she’d been sitting on, her meager belongings in a simple canvas satchel over her shoulder, and walked toward me.
“Thank you for what you tried to do,” she said.
None of the initiates had healed their cores. They were still hollow, still broken, still the victims of a system that would use them and then cast them aside when it no longer needed them.
Only Christina had discovered the first steps of her path, and the time aspects she’d harnessed put her in terrible danger. If an inquisitor found about that, they’d hound her to the ends of the earth and beyond.
“Well,” I said, “we may not be done just yet. Gather your friends and meet me in the room just down the hallway there.”
“What’s going on?” Christina asked, her natural suspicion rearing its head. “Are they taking us to Atlantis?”
“Get the others,” I said. “I’ll explain everything.”
The meeting room I’d picked was small and cozy, with exactly thirteen seats, a long table, and no other furnishings. I sat down at the head of the table, put the case in front of me, and waited for the students to arrive.
They all filed into the meeting room a few minutes later, looking as nervous and unsure of themselves as they had on our first day together. I felt bad for them, and worse that I hadn’t helped them find their way.
Maybe I could change that.
“What’s going on?” Christina asked.
“I told you all that you needed to heal your cores before the end of the school year. I know you’ve all tried, but you haven’t been able to accomplish that,” I said. “Maybe I should’ve forced you down my path. It would’ve been difficult, but at least you wouldn’t still be hollow.”
“We’re going to Atlantis,” Christina said in a defeated voice.
“Only if that’s what you want,” I said. “Brother Rhône won’t be back, but someone like him is on their way. If you’re all here when that person arrives, then, yes, you’ll be off to Atlantis.”
“We still have time to heal our cores,” Ricky said frantically. “We can do this. If we all work hard—”
“You can do it,” I agreed. “All of you. But only if you listen carefully.”
I opened the case and turned it toward them. A pale silver glow rose from its interior, and they peered at it with wide, puzzled eyes.
“What is that?” Furendo asked.
“Cores,” I said. “Artificial ones, but I can use them to heal you. All of you.”
The students eyed me warily, and auras filled with aspects of paranoia and uncertainty. I was behind the plan that had snatched them all away from their parents and set them on this dangerous course. They didn’t have any reason to trust me.
“Will it hurt?” Ricky asked.
“You won’t even feel it,” I said. “But it won’t make you any friends, either. You’ll be different from everyone else. Just like me.”
“Will my eyes turn black?” Christina asked.
“Nope,” I said. “You get to skip that part.”
“Can we still go home?” a young girl with a spray of freckles across her olive skin asked uncertainly. “I really just want to
