Chapter 26
“Stay calm, it’s just a power test,” Zion said, waiting for me by my bedroom door.
“A power test that could very well define my future.”
I quickly combed my hair back—no time for braids today.
“I’m sure you’ll do fine.”
He was trying to reassure me, but failing miserably—my nerves were beyond any comforting words. I was late for the test. Last night, my thoughts had kept circling around Zion knowing my parents, and I’d overslept this morning. I was dead tired.
“What if my level is weak? What if I’ve only learned to use my gift well, but it’s actually low?”
Doubts floated through my mind as I hurried to pull on my blue jacket. In the process, I got tangled up in the sleeve, and Zion promptly helped me.
“Thank you,” I said gratefully, once I finally had it on and looked into his eyes.
I started to turn, but he reached out to fix the collar that had folded inward. I stayed still while he worked on the stubborn fabric, watching me with a half-smile.
“If it’s low, it doesn’t matter. What matters is that you’re good, and no one would dare waste a gift like yours.
” His hands were nimble, and when he finished, he smoothed my hair out from under the jacket.
The light brush of his fingers on my neck sent a wave of heat across my skin.
“Besides, you had cancer—your body spent years developing the gift to keep itself alive. Obviously, it’ll be a high level. ”
I noticed that even he was anxious—you could tell by the way his feet wouldn’t stay still.
Yesterday, when we got home, I’d steeled myself to question him about my theories, but when I opened his bedroom door, he wasn’t there.
I didn’t even bother waiting. I already knew the tactic—he’d avoid me until I forgot or got tired of trying.
We stared at each other for a moment. That closeness was new and very pleasant, but most of the time, I didn’t know what to do when he was this attentive.
I forced myself to look away and took one last look in the mirror, checking that everything was in order.
Then I went to the second drawer of my vanity and pulled out five crystallized fruit bars.
I stuffed them all in my pocket and finally held out my hand to Zion.
He frowned at my pockets but transported us to the back of the academy without asking.
“Thank you,” I said hurriedly.
“Good luck, Kay,” I heard him murmur. “But first, I need to ask you something.”
I turned to face him.
“What’s your answer?” he asked hopefully, arms crossed over his chest.
“What’s your answer?” I shot back, and he looked confused. “I asked you a question four days ago too. Are you going to stay?”
His face turned serious.
“I don’t know.”
“Then I don’t know either,” I said, turning and picking up my pace.
I heard him laugh behind me.
“How perceptive. I didn’t know you were into games.”
I smiled to myself.
“A girl who doesn’t know how to play is like a lion without teeth. Playing is part of the conquest.”
“Does that mean you’re going to play with me?” Something playful and heated gleamed in his eyes, turning my stomach into a landing strip for anxious butterflies.
“I thought we were already playing,” I teased, practically running toward the campus. I heard Zion’s laughter behind me and forced myself to keep walking so I wouldn’t stop and watch him smile.
I entered through the training gymnasium gate and hurried down the exit corridor.
Next to this block was the academy’s administration wing, and beyond that, the classroom complex where the rookies were housed.
I hurried there and pushed through the large wooden doors.
It was silent down here—a sign that I was seriously late.
I ran up the stairs and headed for the amphitheater.
I opened the double doors, trying not to be noticed, and saw that my entire class was already inside.
As soon as I closed the doors, Breno’s eyes landed on me—and not just his, but also those of a child with the same eyes: Dominic.
They both quickly looked away. I scanned for an available seat and found one in the back, far from everyone I knew.
While I waited, impatient and anxious, I caught Breno glancing at me several times, but every time I dared to meet his gaze, he looked away.
I wondered if things would stay like this forever. It was really frustrating.
A few minutes later, the director entered from the side of the small stage at the front of the room, and all the students straightened in their seats. He looked excited.
“Stronger than the Walls!”
“We resist!” we shouted in unison.
“Good morning, my students! I apologize for the delay—I was helping organize the testing room.” He pointed to the two doors on the side of the stage. “You’ll be called in alphabetical order, so please wait in your seats.”
We nodded, and soon the right door on the stage opened, revealing a young woman holding several files.
“Today, we conclude the second exam of the final year, marking the home stretch toward the long-awaited diploma...” Lionel droned on about the academy, but I was too anxious to listen.
My legs wouldn't stop bouncing while my mind drifted.
When my anxiety spiked and my heart started racing, I pulled a dried fruit bar from my pocket.
Lionel, gods help me, chose that unfortunate moment to launch into a speech about military careers and how gratifying it would be to get chosen to serve in the forests.
He announced that enrollment was open for anyone who aspired to work for the army, and my eyes rolled so hard I could almost see the inside of my skull.
The whole enrollment thing was complete nonsense—regardless of whether students signed up or not, some would be chosen by the committee and forced to serve in the forests for five years.
Ambrose and Lorenzo had avoided that fate, but Dr. Luana hadn't, and I'd heard through hospital gossip that she didn't exactly have fond memories of the experience.
By that point, my anxiety was so bad that I was swallowing the fruit bars whole without even chewing. It was a relief when he finally wrapped up.
“Good luck to you all!” he concluded, stepping away.
The students clapped and the director exited through the left door. Adele's name was called, and I watched as the snake stood up and swayed her hips all the way to the stage. If I got my hands on that thin neck, I'd snap it in two.
In the center of the stage was a large screen with tables showing each student's name. I realized the grades would be displayed there. The first chart with the initial levels was already up—mine showed 550 in blue, Aish had 350, Hiro had 400, and Breno had 600. My hands started to sweat.
After fifteen minutes, Adrian's name was called.
Time crawled at the pace of an elderly snail as students stood up one by one and entered through the door.
Most came out the other side celebrating, a triumphant gleam in their eyes—this was a test that only brought good news, since the gift only ever increased, never decreased, until the day of stagnation.
Once, when I was younger, I asked Ambrose what to expect from the sonar.
He told me the man was eccentric and patient, but his powers could be a bit strange.
The sonar usually conducted his sessions with his eyes closed, because he said power wasn't meant to be seen—it was meant to be felt.
So I was already expecting something unusual.
Like Serguei, the sonar was also a descendant who had served in the night squad, but unlike the psychic, he wasn't bound to the throne.
Ambrose told me that Elitium had locked him into an agreement, but for some unknown reason, had given him permission to wander wherever he wanted, as long as he put in a certain number of days of service.
There were rumors that the sonar lived in a hole in the forest floor and never bathed.
I figured that was just a legend meant to disparage a descendant, since they said malicious things about me too.
In any case, the sonar only came to the central wall twice a year: once to classify the graduates and once to recharge the five power machines used to evaluate the gifts of newborns in other nations.
There was only one being with the power of sonar, and only the central academy of Interion had the honor of presenting its students to him.
Everyone else was evaluated by machines.
Breno's name was called, and as he headed to the stage, I whispered, “Good luck.” Most of the time, my friend was the calmest and most extroverted person I knew, but sometimes I caught glimpses of a conflict between his playful personality and the responsible side of him that had matured quickly after his mother left to join the army.
Today, he'd clearly adopted the rigid posture of an older brother.
Dominic stayed in his seat, and as soon as Breno disappeared from view, he turned to me and waved with a huge smile on his face.
Relieved, I smiled and waved back, happy to know that for him, nothing had changed.
I'd met Dominic a year ago, at his initiation ceremony at the academy.
That day, Breno had called me, sounding nervous, and asked if I could come to the event and stand in as a family member, because Natali, the boys' mother, couldn't attend and two people were needed to give the initiation blessing.
It was there, surrounded by people who looked at me with disgust, that I met Dominic, the most important person in the world to Breno.
We spent the afternoon by Lake Canoa eating pistachio ice cream, and even though I wasn't good with kids, talking to Dominic was fun.
A few minutes later, Breno came out through the left door, but his face was an unreadable mask. He didn't look happy, and I wondered if his level hadn't gone up enough.