The hallway outside the memorial was still empty, but it was no longer quiet. Voices echoed from somewhere down the hall. I gripped the handles of Syrin’s wheelchair tightly, trying to keep my breathing calm and even.

  Ivorin just strode forward. Syrin… his breath caught again in a way that I didn’t like. I glanced down at him again and flinched. He didn’t look like Syrin anymore. I couldn’t see most of his face from behind, but his hair was long, thick, and black. When had Ivorin placed that illusion?

  More voices sounded: low murmuring, a sharp order with the occasional barked question. Ivorin led me around the corner into a hallway we hadn’t been down before.The cream-colored walls were the same as the ones I’d seen upstairs by the meditation rooms, but the floor here was an almost sky-blue stone instead of pink.

  I shook myself. Real important details. Maybe I should shoot some photos while I was at it, put together a magazine spread.

  The hallway led into a larger room, an atrium. People dressed in gold and white healer’s tunics with sashes in a variety of colors streamed across the room to new halls and staircases. A smaller group clustered near a set of golden doors. Maybe the elevator? Or whatever you called magical lifts here.

  I kept my eyes down, staying as close to Ivorin as possible. He didn’t rush, just kept a slow, steady pace. I had to keep slowing down to match it. He led us right up to the group in front of the gold doors.

  We waited. I stared at the doors, begging them to open in my head. They didn’t.

  “Ivorin!”

  I flinched, but Ivorin just turned slowly. He gave me a look that said, Stay calm. Then murmured, “I need to handle this. I’ll be right back.”

  Then he strode away, leaving me with a group of staring healers.

  “I didn’t realize Ivorin had other family in the tower,” someone said.

  I froze. “We’re not—” I paused. Related was better than ‘interdimensional disaster magnet.’ I straightened. “We’re not closely related. I’m his cousin’s daughter.”

  A woman with a bright smile and a dark green sash grinned at me. “Well, I hope you’re liking it here. How’s training going?”

  I blinked. Training? Right. I was an assistant. “Uh, good. Lots to memorize.”

  Like how not to get executed in a hallway.

  She nodded, then looked at Syrin. “Not a burn patient from upstairs then?”

  I blinked. Oh. Because we were getting on here. Did Ivorin have an explanation for that?! He hadn’t told me. My mind raced. “Uh, well. He was,” I hedged, “but we had to stabilize—”

  That’s when Syrin seized again. Not for long, but violently. His breath was sharp, and I grabbed his shoulder to stabilize him as two people in the crowd started forward to help.

  No! Ivorin had said not to get close. If they touched him, the illusion could shatter.

  “I’ve got it!” I said quickly.

  They reluctantly paused, but when Syrin slumped back into the chair with a shuddering breath, they relaxed.

  “You okay, lad?” an older gentleman asked.

  Syrin gave a sharp nod, his eyes shut tight. “Yes.”

  “Not burns, then,” the woman continued, “but…” She trailed off, looking at me expectantly.

  “No. He has…” I hesitated. I’d never learned the word for epilepsy in Kirathi. “He has… where bright lights make him seize?” I hung my head, wishing I could blush on command. “Sorry, I’m still learning names.”

  A man who looked to be in his early thirties rattled off a long word. I blinked. “Uh… I think so?” I really hoped that was it.

  A severe-looking woman with a deep scarlet sash gave me a disapproving stare, but the man with the dark green sash just grinned. “It is. Keep studying. It may be a lot of vocabulary, but it’s worth being able to communicate what your patient needs quickly.”

  This time I really did blush. “Thank you.”

  A faint buzzing sound came from the doors, and everyone’s attention turned there. I glanced back at Ivorin. He was arguing with someone in hushed tones, but he glanced over at me. Chin pointing faintly to the doors. He… he wanted me to go alone?

  My heart sped up. The doors slid open to reveal a round chamber. The biggest elevator I’d ever seen. Then the smell hit, faintly scorched, like burned silk and something metallic underneath it.

  That’s when I saw all the stretchers. Healers bustled around, calling to assistants, like a hospital wing crammed into an elevator. The healers in front of me started loading in, careful to stay to the sides so they wouldn’t disturb the patients already inside.

  But my feet wouldn’t move as I stared in. A soft pressure ghosted against my hand, and I looked down to find Syrin staring up at me. His face wasn’t his. The chin was wider, his skin darker than mine, and eyes almost black instead of green, but the expression was the same.

  “Trina,” he murmured. “We have to move. Now.”

  I shuddered, but nodded, rushing forward before the door could close. I glanced around desperately, but Syrin just said, almost too quietly to hear, “Right.”

  I veered—maybe too fast, judging by the way Syrin’s hands gripped the armrests—but I saw a bunch of other healers also with patients in wheelchairs. I found an empty space, and carefully maneuvered my way in. A few seconds later the doors made a buzzing sound again, then shut with a slow hiss.

  “Syr—” I cut myself off. Stupid. I couldn’t say his name here, but Syrin hummed anyway. “I don’t know where—”

  He shifted, looking up at me again, face exhausted. “Bottom floor. Outtake. You’re assigned to Varone.”

  His lips twitched upward. “You’re doing fine, Trina. Just a little longer. Then you can…” He blinked slowly. His head lolled to the side. The convulsion hit a second later, just a sharp twitch and intake of breath. Anywhere else it might have gone unnoticed, but I wasn’t anywhere.

  Three healers were suddenly focused on us, including one holding a clipboard.

  “Is he seizing?” the man with the clipboard asked, already stepping closer.

  “It’s brief,” I said quickly. Too quickly. I forced myself to breathe.

  “How long?” another healer asked, peering around the stretcher beside us.

  “Seconds,” I said. “He stays aware.”

  “That’s not typical,” the scarlet-sashed woman by the stretcher said sharply.

  My pulse jumped.

  Syrin’s fingers twitched again against the armrest. Not another convulsion, just tremor.

  If you spot this tale on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.

  The clipboard man reached toward him. “Let me just—”

  “No!” The word burst out of me before I could soften it. Three heads snapped toward me. Apparently, that’s how you look suspicious in three seconds flat.

  I swallowed. “I mean—he startles if too many people touch him at once. It can trigger another episode.”

  That wasn’t entirely a lie. Syrin didn’t want to be touched.

  The healer hesitated, hand hovering just above Syrin’s shoulder. For a split second, the air shimmered faintly where his fingers passed through the edge of the illusion.

  His brow furrowed.

  I shifted closer, hiding the ripple with my arm. “He’s assigned to Varone in outtake,” I added quickly.

  The man with the green sash glanced at the clipboard.

  “I’ll handle this,” a sharp voice said.

  I went still. It was the woman from outside. The one who hadn’t been impressed with my knowledge. Her dark hair wrapped her head in braids, and a closer look at her sash revealed that gold trim lined the scarlet. Was that important?

  The man with the clipboard glanced up at her. “Ah. Perfect.”

  He gave her a nod, then walked off. The doors buzzed again, then slid open. Syrin let out a soft, involuntary sound. The other healers went back to their tasks, but the gold-lined, scarlet-sashed woman just stared at us. People began to flow in and out of the lift like a river. The woman just stepped forward.

  “You were with Ivorin,” she said quietly. Her eyes felt like they were peering into my soul.

  I gave a careful nod. She looked down, then crouched in front of Syrin. Her hand brushed his knee, and the illusion rippled faintly beneath her touch. Her eyes focused on the ripple, but she didn’t react.

  “Syrinthinor,” she said, so softly that I barely could make it out with all the movement, but Syrin stiffened, eyes snapping open.

  I felt like I could barely breathe, but I shifted around the wheelchair, not sure what I would even do.

  The woman gave me a sharp look, and I froze. She could call out. She could give us away. I could see the hurt and terror in Syrin’s eyes as his grip tightened on the armrests. The woman just took one of his hands and let out a long breath. “I’m disgusted that I can frighten you like this.” Her mouth tightened. “We’ve fallen far these past months.”

  Her thumb traced across the back of his hand, and Syrin shuddered.

  “Things have changed here,” she whispered. “You should not return until you’re willing to cleanse this building.”

  Syrin stiffened, staring at her wide-eyed. “You know I can’t.” His voice dropped even lower. “Using fire like that. I’ll hurt you. The others.”

  “Then you will lose,” she said sharply. Her expression softened. “You are too young for this, but your father…” She exhaled. “He trusted the wrong people. He wasn’t careful enough.”

  Her eyes sharpened on Syrin again. “Learn well. Bide your time. I’ll be waiting when you come back.”

  “Varone.” Syrin’s voice broke on the name.

  Wait. The person Syrin was using as a cover… this was her? She knew she hadn’t been assigned this patient. Oh, lights. That’s why she recognized him.

  “You know what you must do,” she said, squeezing his hand as she stood.

  She looked at me, stepping much closer than I was comfortable with. “I don’t know you,” she whispered. “But you’re pushing our entire future in that chair. You will get him out of this building. Now.”

  I looked at her wide-eyed, but gave a sharp nod.

  She grabbed my arm, and the illusion shimmered. I tried to pull away, but her grip only tightened. “You don’t understand,” she whispered harshly. “If someone makes one wrong move toward him right now, if the Light is truly afraid, the only ones left standing on this floor will be you and him.”

  I felt my hands shake. I’d seen what happened at the zoo, been caught in the crossfire. If that happened here…

  Varone’s gaze didn’t soften. “I was upstairs. The Light is writhing. It won’t hesitate.”

  My breath caught. “Understood.”

  “Good.” Then louder. “He looks fine. Take him to outtake,” she said, slipping a little yellow tile into my hand. The tile pressed sharp into my palm, and I didn’t loosen my grip.

  Then she strode away, not giving either of us a second glance. The doors buzzed again, then shifted closed. There was another little jerk as movement resumed. I was fine. We were fine. Just a few more minutes. Survive the tower. Avoid mass incineration. Basic life objectives.

  “Next floor,” Syrin murmured.

  I tightened my grip on the handles, Varone’s words echoing in my head: only ones left standing…

  A shiver I couldn’t quite stop ran through me. Finally, the buzzing sound came again, and the doors slid open. I pushed Syrin forward, joining the flow of others exiting the elevator.

  We passed a woman on a stretcher with a burn down one arm, and Syrin shuddered.

  “Not your fault,” I murmured.

  He didn’t respond.

  Finally, we were out. The lift exited into a grand atrium that was honestly breathtaking: tiny lights floated across the ceiling, moving in little swirling patterns. If I hadn’t been afraid for everyone’s lives, I would have stayed to gawk. Instead, my vision tunneled in on the large doors leading outside. My feet were moving before I could really think.

  “Trina,” Syrin’s voice was sharp.

  I slammed to a halt. “What?”

  There was silence. Panicked, I moved out of the flow of traffic, put the brakes on, and shifted to see him. He just blinked up at me, looking a little dazed. I leaned in. “What’s wrong?”

  Another little jolt went through him, and his gaze sharpened. “Varone’s station.”

  “We just saw Varone.”

  His brows pushed together. Another jolt hit him. He sucked in a breath. “No. Varone’s station. Your mother.”

  Oh. That was the meeting place?

  I squeezed his hand. “I don’t know where it is.”

  He let out a long breath, then caught my hand and tugged me closer. Confused, I leaned in as a little glowing map appeared on his palm. I stared down, trying to orient myself on the little circle, but his hand was trembling so much that I couldn’t track the lines. Gently, I rested his hand in mine to stop the shaking.

  There was a little green dot in the middle of the lines. We were a couple of rooms over. I looked back up into the eyes that weren’t his. “How long will the illusion last?” I whispered.

  Syrin huffed. “Few more minutes. Hurry.”

  I straightened and swung the chair back toward the hospital wing. The hallway was bustling. This wasn’t the burn unit, but it looked plenty busy. Still, some of the rooms seemed closed off. In another, a woman pled with a man at a table, almost in tears as she clutched an infant son.

  “Rules are rules,” the man said without looking up. “Moneylender’s out front.”

  Syrin stiffened. I walked faster. Bad. That’s what had set him off upstairs. That had to be what Ivorin was talking about, charging the foreigners for healing.

  We made it into the outtake section without anything exploding or fires, which I thought was a grand success. I squeezed Syrin’s shoulder.

  I turned into the hallway that was supposed to host Varone’s little alcove according to Syrin’s map, and there she was: Mom going through what looked to be supplies on a table like she was doing inventory. She looked up at my footsteps.

  A crease appeared between her brows, but she set the clipboard down and strode towards us. “Trina?”

  “Mom.”

  “Lady Nina,” Syrin said softly.

  Her lips twitched upward. “So polite now with a new face.”

  Syrin gave the smallest of shrugs.

  She glanced between us. “What happened?”

  I gripped the handles tightly. “We should probably cover that later.”

  Mom gave a sharp nod. “The Outtake Steward should be able to assign us a carriage.” She glanced down at Syrin. “I managed to track down the papers you wanted,” she said, hefting a file.

  I raised my eyebrows.

  “In the carriage,” Mom said. “Let’s go.”

  I nodded and followed her back through the corridors. It didn’t take the Outtake Steward long to assign us a carriage, but every second felt like it was ticking toward an imminent explosion. I pulled up Syrin’s hood, just in case, muttering something about warmth in case anyone was watching. A minute later, I glanced down and his hands were pale again. I looked down; my illusory healer uniform still seemed intact. Why was his fading first? Had it been disturbed more?

  A little swirl of silver glow flickered across Syrin’s skin before vanishing. Lights, had Ivorin been covering that before? Syrin took a sharp breath. His fingers were practically digging into the armrests at this point as he trembled. We’d just have to pray he could hold on to the glow and that no one recognized him.

  Finally, the Steward called Mom’s name, and we moved to the little porch set at carriage height, where another healer’s assistant helped us transfer Syrin from the chair to the carriage. Maybe the illusion wearing off was a blessing in disguise. She definitely would have noticed the ripples.

  Still, every time she looked at him, my heart skipped a beat. Once we got him settled, she held out a hand to me, looking expectant.

  I just blinked at her.

  “Tile?” she said patiently.

  Oh. Right. I pulled the yellow tile from my satchel and settled it in her palm. She looked down at it. “Escort duty, huh? Lucky you.”

  Yes. Very lucky. Five stars. Would recommend. I tried to smile. She waved at the carriage. “Well, in you go. Shuttles come by once an hour for pickup.”

  I nodded and tried to pretend I knew what that meant. Mom slipped into the carriage, and I followed, settling beside Syrin.

  He blinked at me slowly. The carriage door closed, and he stayed upright for a few more seconds, then collapsed against me, going almost completely slack, like the Light had finally given him permission to rest.

  I shifted, letting him curl against my shoulder. His breathing slowed, becoming more even. Then a golden glow unfurled across his skin, like he was releasing something he’d held so tightly that it was hard to let go.

  The carriage jerked into motion. Mom stared at us.

  “I leave you two alone for an hour, and you both look half dead,” she said tightly.

  I sighed, slumping further into the seat, Syrin’s weight settling heavy against me. The air shimmered around my shoulder, the illusion melting away and leaving my cloak instead of the Healer’s tunic. Syrin’s auburn hair was a stark contrast to the blue where he rested against my shoulder.

  I stared up at the ceiling before finally meeting Mom’s gaze. “I hope it’s a long ride,” I said.

  “It is.”

  I took a deep breath. Step one: don’t cry. Step two: maybe cry later.

  I shifted deeper into the corner, Syrin making a soft sound as the motion rocked him, and began to tell our story.