Chapter 13 False Promises
By morning, Amy was burning up with fever. She refused to stay home, insisting she couldn’t miss class. She snapped at us for daring to suggest otherwise. When we entered the lecture hall, the wrongness hit me immediately.
A girl near the windows was muttering to herself, her pencil moving frantically across her notebook, sketching spirals and runes that made my eyes hurt to look at.
Xavier sat hunched in his usual back-row seat, but he wasn’t watching me with his usual predatory smirk.
His eye twitched, hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically on the desk.
His lips moved in constant, silent mumbling.
Amy slumped in her chair, head drooping.
Kian stood at the front of the room, writing today’s topic on the board:
False Promises who we give it to, and how easily it can be betrayed.”
He tapped the board twice.
“Think of Pandora. Or Orpheus, promised he could reclaim his wife if only he didn’t look back.” He paused. “In each case, the trap wasn’t a monster or a curse. It was a belief. Trust in the wrong promise.”
My stomach churned. Was he talking about myths? Or Ekklesia’s promises?
“False promises come dressed in beauty,” he said, eyes flicking to me. “That’s how they work. You don’t sell a lie with thorns; you dress it in roses.”
The girl near the window started drawing faster, her pencil scratching frantically.
“The gods rarely lie outright,” Kian continued. “They just omit. They wrap their bargains in beauty. ‘If you follow this path, you’ll find your heart’s desire.’ But the cost is never clearly marked.”
He paused.
“Whether it’s Loki tricking the gods, or Hades offering Persephone a throne in the Underworld—” His voice dropped lower. “—every myth has a price someone didn’t know they were paying.”
At the mention of Hades, my birthmark flared hot. I gasped softly, and Kian’s eyes snapped to mine. For one heartbeat, we just stared at each other, his expression unreadable.
Then he looked away.
“Today,” he said, “I’d like each of you to share a quick update on your project focus.”
One by one, students were called forward.
Amy stayed seated, her explanation of Artemis halting and confused. She kept losing her train of thought, staring blankly until Luz would gently prompt her.
Kian was kind, not pushing, moving on quickly.
Finally, his gaze settled on me. “Ms. Blumenthal?”
I stood, rubbing my sweaty palms against my jeans.
“I’m focusing on the myth of Persephone,” I began. “But more specifically, the transformation from Kore to Persephone; the maiden to the queen.”
“I’ve been exploring how her story is more than just a kidnapping,” I said, words coming from somewhere deep. “It’s death and rebirth. A descent, yes, but also an awakening.”
Where was this coming from?
“Kore wasn’t taken. Not really.” The words left my mouth before I could stop them. “She went willingly.”
I could practically feel Kian’s stare on my skin like a physical touch.
“I keep thinking about the pomegranate,” I continued. “How she eats the seeds even though she knows what it means. She doesn’t resist; she claims it. That choice is always erased in the versions we’re told.”
My hands were shaking as I stuffed them in my pockets.
“Why do you think that part was altered?” Kian asked.
I looked at him directly.
“Because it’s dangerous,” I answered. “If we admit she wasn’t a victim, then what does that say about us? About what we want?”
Something like grief, and maybe hope, flickered in his eyes.
“Her name wasn’t even Persephone at first,” I went on. “That name didn’t exist until she changed, when she realized who she was.”
As I spoke, my fingers brushed frigid metal in my pocket.
My blood went ice-cold.
No. That’s impossible—
The coin.
The same coin I’d thrown into the river. The same coin I’d watched sink. But here it was, in my pocket like it had never left. I brushed my thumb across the pomegranate design, tracing the six seeds spilling—
I glanced back at Kian. He was watching me with that same tight focus.
“Ms. Blumenthal?” he said, raising a brow. “Is there more you wanted to share?”
“N-No,” I stammered, voice catching. “That’s it.”
I sat down, trembling fingers still curled around the coin.
Finally, class came to an end, and Kian dismissed us. “Leave your outlines on my desk.”
Students filed out of the classroom. Amy groaned, pressing her hands to her temples.
“Hey,” Luz said, helping her stand. “Let’s get you some food, okay?”
Amy didn’t argue, letting Luz guide her toward the door.
They both looked back at me. I hadn’t moved from my desk, still tracing the coin through my pocket.
“You good?” Luz asked, her eyes worried.
I gulped, nodding stiffly. “Yeah, I’ll meet you out there after I talk with Kian.”
She hesitated but nodded, carefully leading Amy out of the room.
Soon it was just us. I approached his desk, the coin a living thing in my pocket. My slightly crumpled outline was clutched in my other hand.
“Melanie,” he looked up, offering me a small smile.
I held out my outline. “Here.”
His fingers brushed mine as he took it, and for a ridiculous second, I felt steadier.
“Are you alright?” he asked.
“No.” The word came out before I could soften it. “Not really.”
His face shifted with concern.
“I don’t know what’s going on,” I said, words tumbling out.
“It’s Amy. She never gets sick. She’s in that Ekklesia study, and it’s like she’s dying, Kian.
There are a few other people in class who are in it too.
” I gestured toward the door. “Did you see them? They’re all wearing those bracelets, too.
I can’t find anything about the company online—”
My breath hitched.
“Even Xavier. He’s been obnoxious for as long as I’ve known him, but that night in the alley? He’s never acted that way before. Something is wrong. He has one of those bracelets, too.”
Kian considered this, shoulders tight.
“You think there’s a connection,” he said finally. “Between the study and their behavior.”
“It’s the only thing that makes sense,” I sighed. “They’ve been giving Amy some kind of supplement. She’s exhausted, burnt out, irritable.”
I studied his face. “Do you know anything about it? About the study? Ekklesia Biotech?”
Kian hesitated. “I don’t work in that department. I don’t know much beyond what Dean Carroway mentioned, that it would be beneficial for students dealing with stress.”
My stomach twisted.
“But if you think this study is harming participants, I can look into it. Quietly.”
Something in my chest loosened. “You’d do that?”
“Of course.” His face was grim “What you’re describing… that’s not normal study protocol.”
I nodded, but I couldn’t shake the feeling he was holding something back.
“Is there something else?” he asked.
I hesitated. “This project. It’s pulling something out of me. Like I’m not just writing about Persephone, I’m somehow writing about myself.” My voice dropped. “And I don’t even know if I’m doing it right. It feels too personal.”
His gaze softened. “It’s not just a project to you anymore, is it?”
“No,” I admitted. “And that scares me.”
His composure slipped—an almost-imperceptible crack.
“I know it does,” he said, rawness in his voice. “It can be terrifying to feel like you’re remembering something you never lived.”
My chest tightened. “What?”
He blinked, as if he just realized what he’d said. “I mean—” He stopped, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Researching mythology can feel very personal.”
But that wasn’t what he meant. I could see it in his face.
“Do you know something?” I asked. “About what’s happening to me?”
I saw a war playing out behind his eyes. He averted his gaze, throat bobbing.
“I can’t,” he said, guilt in his voice. “Not yet.”
My blood went cold. “You do know something.”
“Melanie—”
“No,” My voice rose. “You were the one who showed up when Xavier cornered me. You’ve been watching me like you’re waiting for something. And now you’re standing here looking at me like you know exactly what I’m going through, but you won’t say it.”
He didn’t deny it.
“Why won’t you tell me?” My voice cracked. “What are you so afraid of?”
His hands clenched. “I’m trying to protect you.”
“Protect me from what? Knowledge?” I moved closer. “I’m not fragile china that needs to be wrapped in secrets. I don’t need a guardian. I need someone who trusts me enough to tell me the truth.”
He closed his eyes. “There are some things that are dangerous to know before you’re ready. Not because you’re weak—you’re not—but because knowing them at the wrong time can break something that can’t be fixed.”
“So you’re just going to leave me stumbling in the dark while people get hurt?”
“No.” The word was fierce. “I’m trying to guide you. To help you find the answers yourself.”
“Find what answers?” I demanded. He looked at me, and I saw the desperate wish to tell me everything.
But he didn’t.
“I can’t,” he said again, quieter. “I’m sorry. I know that’s not enough. But please—” His voice caught. “Please trust that I have reasons. Good ones.”
Frustration burned in my throat. “Fine. Then explain this.”
I yanked the coin from my pocket and dropped it on his desk. His face went white.
“Where did you get this?”
“Some creep gave it to me at work. Pale eyes, expensive suit, weird as hell. He knew my name. He knew about Amy.” I gestured at it. “I threw this in the river. I watched it sink. But today it’s back in my pocket.”
His hands were shaking.
“And you have one too, I saw it weeks ago.” I stopped, forcing myself to breathe. “What is it? What does it mean?”
For a long moment, he just stared. Then he reached into his pocket and pulled out his identical one.
He set it beside mine. They looked like a matching set.
“Where did you get yours?” I whispered.
“I’ve always had it,” he said quietly.
“But what is it?”
He picked up my coin and held it to the light. The design seemed to shimmer.
“Once it chooses someone, it doesn’t let go. It will always find its way back.” He shook his head. “You should leave it alone. Don’t carry it, don’t even look at it.”
“That’s not an answer.”
“It’s the only one I can give you right now.”
Anger flared. “No. No more cryptic non-answers. What does it claim? Why do we both have them?”
He rubbed at the nape of his neck. “Melanie—”
“Don’t ‘Melanie’ me like I’m a child who can’t handle the truth. Something is happening to me, to Amy, and to students all over campus. And you’re standing there with answers you won’t share because you’ve decided I’m not ready.”
He opened his mouth—
And chaos erupted in the hallway. Kian moved before I did, rushing toward the door. I followed, heart in my throat.
Amy.
She was on the floor, Luz kneeling beside her, screaming her name. Amy convulsed, her back arching at an unnatural angle. Her eyes had rolled back, only whites showing. Foam flecked her lips, tinged pink.
Her skin had gone blue-gray, veins standing out like black cracks. Her fingers clawed at nothing.
“Amy!” I dropped to my knees beside her. Her hand was frigid to the touch.
Kian was already on his phone: “Ambulance. Medical emergency, east hall, second floor. Female, early twenties, seizure, possible adverse drug reaction. Hurry.”
Amy’s convulsions slowed. Her body went rigid, every muscle locked. Then she went completely limp.
“No no no—” Luz checked for a pulse, hands shaking. “Amy, come on, stay with us. Don’t you dare… Amy, please—”
I looked up at Kian, terror flooding through me. He was staring at Amy with a mixed expression of grief, guilt, and rage.
“Is she breathing?” someone asked.
Luz lowered her ear to Amy’s mouth, face pale. “N-no, she’s not—”
A girl pushed through and dropped down beside us. “Move, I’m in the nursing program. Let me check.”
She pressed fingers to Amy’s throat. “Pulse is weak. Thready. She needs that ambulance now.”
Sirens wailed in the distance, but all I could see was Kian’s face heavy with guilt from the knowledge he’d been carrying.
The nursing student started CPR. One. Two. Three. Amy’s body jerked, but she didn’t wake.
“Come on, Amy,” Luz sobbed. “Come on, please—”
The sirens were right outside now, but I kept staring at Kian, and one thought burned through everything else:
Whatever he’s hiding, I’m going to find out.