“We need you to infiltrate Ávera,” the stranger says. “Gain their trust, learn their secrets, and report back to us. We will provide you with a means of communication.”
He pauses, and I feel the warmth of his body near me. The cloth around my eyes is finally removed, the sudden light blinding me. As my vision adjusts, I see the stranger standing before me, a crystal that glows with pink light in his hand.
“This,” he says, holding the crystal up for me to see, “is your means of communication—a vólkin crystal. You will use it to send us messages. Place it in water, and it sends one signal. Rub it with a warm cloth, and it sends another. Simple enough, even for you.”
I swallow hard, my eyes wide, dancing between his face and the crystal in his hand. Why would they have a vólkin crystal in their possession?
That’s it. I’m done.
Noël... How can I betray her? She spared my life.
Goose bumps cover my spine as I think of the day that giant beast shredded Arnold into nothing. Noël was kind enough to let me live, even knowing the plans we had for her. I never wanted her death. But Arnold...
I’m so sorry, Noël. I have no choice.
“I’ll do it.” My voice trembles.
“Excellent.” The stranger sounds satisfied with my answer. “But first, we need to prepare you. You’re a wreck. We’ll heal you and teach you everything you need to know about the vólkins.”
He kneels down in front of me and says with a grin, “Then, before sending you off, we will beat you a little more.”
I nod again, too exhausted to argue. The stranger motions to someone beside me, and rough hands untie my wrists. This giant of a man pulls me to my feet, and my legs shake from the effort it takes to stand.
“Come with me,” the stranger says, leading me out of the cold room. The light is blinding after days in darkness, and I stumble, barely able to keep up. They guide me to a small room where a healer awaits, his expression indifferent as he examines my wounds.
They forced me to quit the military using a forged healer’s note to explain my sudden departure. It was a reminder of the power they hold, how easily they can manipulate my life. The beatings have been relentless, a method to extract every detail I know about the vólkins and my brief time in the forest. But I couldn’t tell them much, I only saw the vólkin for a few moments.
They were not satisfied with my answers.
Now, as the healer’s hands move over my injuries, I feel the slightest relief—relief that the physical pain might soon lessen—and dread for the mission that awaits me. I’m being prepared, molded into a tool for their use, and I can do nothing to stop it.
The wounds disappear before my eyes. How is that possible?
The bruises heal within moments, the cuts seal, and I feel as good as new.
What?
If they have this type of medicine, why aren’t they healing citizens? People die every day from fever. I don’t understand.
The healer finishes and steps back, his work done. The stranger, his gaze cold, hands me the glowing crystal.
“Remember, Gregor,” he says. “We are always watching.”
I take the crystal, its surface cool and smooth in my hand.
“Come,” he says, leading me out of the healer’s room. “We shall begin your vólkin lessons.” He looks at the crystal in my hand. “There’s so much you need to know.”
I feel a knot of fear tighten in my throat. I must succeed. For my sister’s sake and mine, I have to.
Otherwise, I’m dead.
30
THE HALL OF HANDS AND PAWS
“Let them fear the girl who was raised in silence. Because when she learns to speak, she’ll teach the world to burn.”
—Eyleen Ársa
