“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, exploiting 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.
“I’m done,” he said. “I’ve had enough.”
“Enough of what?” Juliette asked gently, her eyes flashing back and forth across Sam’s face with concern.
“All of it,” Sam replied. “The death, the brutality, the falseness of it all. We just watched two kids—because that’s what they are. Just children fighting to the death. And for what? An archaic competition that no longer has any meaning. I won’t have my daughter growing up in this world. I want her to be happy and safe, and most of all, I want her never to have to fight for her life.”
“What are you saying?” Juliette asked, her voice barely more than a whisper.
“I made a deal with the High Master,” Sam said.
“You can’t trust him,” Juliette interjected.
Sam looked resigned. “I know. But I think in this I can.”
“What did you do? What did you give up?”
Sam sighed and dropped his eyes to the ground. “You’re my best friend. My oldest friend. But I think it would be safer if you don’t know.”
Juliette tightened her jaw and took a step closer to Sam. “Safer for who?” she asked steadily.
“For you, for Werner, for Rob and the twins. And yes, for me and Allyra too.”
For a second, it looked like Juliette might argue her point, but her expression softened, and she sighed, leaning against the wall.
“Okay,” she said. “So, you made a deal—what did you get out of it?”
“I get to leave. With Allyra. And I want you and your family to come with me. We can escape. Find somewhere far away from all this.”
“You know we can never truly escape the Council—they have eyes everywhere.”
“I know,” Sam said quietly, brushing his hand through his short, dark hair. “We might never escape, but it might be enough for our children. Enough for them to have a normal childhood and a normal life.”
Juliette was quiet for a long time, and Sam watched her anxiously, sorrow darkening his eyes like a shroud.
“Okay,” Juliette said eventually.
A smile spread over Sam’s face like dawn breaking after a long, dark night. “Really?” he asked.
“Really,” Juliette replied. “When do we go?”
“As soon as possible,” Sam said firmly.
The sound of approaching footsteps and voices jolted Allyra from the memory. She allowed the threads of it to run through her fingers and slammed her body to the wall. She recognized one of the voices—Marcus.
A brief flash of fear warred with curiosity. As always, curiosity won. With her back still pressed to the wall, she slid silently along it and peered around the corner.
Marcus had his back to her, his voice just a slight murmur. One word indistinguishable from the next. His tall frame obscured the other person though it was clear from their close stance that they were on friendly terms. She caught a flash of blond hair that seemed all
