34. Chapter 34
Arwen
My academy phone vibrates.
The room looks nothing like a classroom. Bright fluorescents fill the space with white light, bouncing off padded walls lined with reinforced panels. Shelves line one side of the room: fire blankets, containment kits, reinforced restraints, extinguishers, antidote vials, all neatly labeled in rows.
A small group is already waiting. Dean Bellows stands at the front. Her eyes land on me.
“Arwen,” she says. “Thank you for coming.”
She gestures once, briskly, and begins introducing people.
“We’ll get straight to it. We all have busy schedules. This is Professor Pox. He will be your primary instructor for your sin power development and in charge of your Gluttony power training.”
I glance at him. He’s a bit unsettling but doesn’t look as grumpy as the Wrath power trainer, Professor Marrick. His gaze flicks over me once, measuring.
Dean Bellows continues.
“This is Professor Lennox,” she says, shifting. Lennox is younger than I expected.
“He will be your new potions instructor. He needs to understand your power to ensure it does not interfere with his coursework.”
Lennox gives a polite nod. “Looking forward to it.”
And finally—
“This is Instructor Brady. He will oversee your combat training. While powers will not be permitted in physical combat classes, they can manifest under high duress. He will need to recognize what you are working with and any warning signs.”
Brady gives a curt nod. “Davies.”
“Professor Brady, I can’t wait for your class,” I say. Definitely want to be on his good side.
“All three have signed strict NDAs. The nature of your ability and all progress reports will remain confidential between them and myself.”
Sure, it will…
I give a small, cautious nod back anyway.
“This will be quick. We’ll step into the observation room behind the protective glass there.” She says’s pointing at a room eerily similar to the lab in Greed. “When I relay to you to begin, your goal will be to use your power on the stack of empty boxes there.”
I glance at the stacked cardboard boxes she referenced. Easy enough. I have a wide berth. No one should be in danger.
They move into the other room, and I wait until I hear Dean Bellow’s voice over the intercom telling me to proceed.
I close my eyes and focus.
Okay, Arwen… don’t panic. Don’t overthink.
Opening myself up to the familiar static that is my power, I expect it to come to me easily. When it doesn’t flood me, I reach inward.
My heart stutters when I don’t find it, but I keep searching… digging…
Finally.
I find it. It’s faint, but it’s there. Latching onto it immediately, relief flickers through me—
“Okay,” I whisper under my breath. “There you are.”
I tighten my grip on it. And it just… shifts.
Slides through my grip like smoke. My eyes snap open.
“What the—no—”
The boxes stand, untouched.
“I—” My voice catches, so I force it steadier. “I can feel it. I swear I can.”
In the observation room, Pox tilts his head. “Describe the sensation. Be specific.”
“It’s like…” I swallow and hesitate, searching for words that don’t make me sound insane. “Like something’s under my skin. Close. Really close. But when I reach for it, it moves away.”
Lennox exchanges a look with Pox.
“Can I try again?” I ask.
“Proceed,” Dean Bellows responds.
I try again immediately, harder this time. Digging inward, I hunt for that dark and hungry place the power used to live—the hollow under my ribs where it once curled like something waiting to be fed. I search for it. I grab for it. I throw myself at it.
“Come on,” I whisper under my breath, like it might help. Like it might hear me.
I push even harder, calling for it the way I did when I was being sliced open in front of Councilor Blaise. I grit my teeth, sweat already prickling at the back of my neck, straining so fiercely it makes my temples pound.
Nothing. Not even a flicker.
My chest tightens. There’s a heat building under my skin—not power, just frustration twisting into something ugly.
“Stop,” the Dean’s voice cuts through.
My eyes snap open to find the professors all exiting the barrier room. The door swings shut behind them with a soft, final click. I’m still standing there in front of four stupid stacked cardboard boxes that will be downfall.
“It’s still there,” I blurt, mortified. “I can feel it. I’m not—” My voice drops. “It keeps pulling back. Every time I get close, it just… moves. I don’t know what’s happening.”
I’m sure I sound insane.
Dean Bellows studies me for a long moment. Her expression stays composed, calculating.
“If my reports from Councilor West are correct,” she says, “you experienced a traumatic event involving your power recently.”
Shame creeps up my neck, hot and immediate. I nod stiffly.
“It could be,” she continues, “that the event has subconsciously altered your ability to access your sin power.”
My hands curl at my sides. It doesn’t feel subconscious.
“We will proceed as planned,” the Dean adds. “For now, we adjust expectations. You will still attend Instructor Pox’s power class.”
Her eyes flick to the others, then back to me.
“I believe with time and structured control, you will regain access.”
The instructors move again, murmuring to each other as they step out, and I’m left standing alone, still reaching for a power that refuses to answer.
I used it before. I know I did. I know what it feels like. The hunger. The pull. The awful, intoxicating rush of it.
So where the hell did it go?