But just as the memory of August’s words echoed in Wren’s mind, another voice took over, blotting everything else away.
Believing in his promises is a foolish mistake, my sweet.
Wren startled and the pen slipped out of her hands, clattering to the floor.
August’s smirk faltered. He tilted his head, barely an inch. “What is it?” he whispered.
But Wren’s voice caught in her throat, leaving her unable to utter a single word in response.
He isn’t the only one who can break through your defenses.The voice flooded her mind once more, burrowing deeper into her skull like a ravenous parasite.He isn’t the only one who knows your soul.
Wren shuddered.
The Soulless One.
A deep, terrible laughter rumbled in Wren’s mind, thunderous and menacing.
My dear, I do wish you wouldn’t call me that anymore.
Wren jolted onto her feet, chest heaving. She was going to be sick. Her vision blurred, warping at the edges.No, no, no.Not here. Not now. Around her, a few curious Demiens looked up, faces muddled in Wren’s vision by her terror-induced haze. Quinn reached out, grabbing Wren firmly by the wrist, though her expression didn’t match the intensity of her grip. Her eyes were wide and riddled with concern, mouth parted in surprise.
“Are you okay?” Quinn asked under her breath, eyes darting to August, who had seemingly frozen in place, unsure what to do. “What’s wrong?”
“I—” Wren winced as a shooting pain erupted in the back of her skull, the voice dripping into her mind once again.
You can’t run from me, my sweet catalyst. Our connection grows stronger. You can feel it, can’t you?
Wren staggered backward, bumping into the desk behind her. Journals clattered to the floor, a cacophony of startled gasps andfluttering pages. She needed to get out, to get some air, to distance herself—
“Loughty.” August’s voice echoed, his expression lethal. When he spoke, his words were harsh, though Wren could see the terror in his eyes. “Where the hell do you think you’re going?”
Wren shook her head, backing away from her desk, retreating toward the tent’s entrance.
“I…I have to go. I have to get some air.”
Go on. Run, my catalyst. Run.
That was all it took for Wren’s legs to move beneath her as she scrambled out of the tent, staggering into the bustling cavern. Everywhere she looked there were too many bodies, too much noise and color. Panic twined around her chest like barbed wire. A crawling heat at the nape of her neck. It was too much. Too much. Too—
“Wren?”
A strong pair of hands gripped her shoulders. Wren swiveled on her heels, coming face to face with Arthur and Quinn. They were standing behind her, both slightly out of breath.
“What the hell was that all about?” Quinn asked. Despite the slight annoyance in her tone, her eyes remained soft, marred with worry. “You can’t just run out like that. Are you trying to get yourself thrown into isolation?”
Wren’s chest heaved as she fought to steady her breaths. She waited, bracing for the Soulless One’s voice to flood her mind, but there were only silence and the feeling of Quinn’s and Arthur’s patience thinning.
“I’m…I’m sorry.” Wren rubbed at her temples. “I got a headache.”
Arthur’s brows knit together in confusion. “Has that been happening to you often?”
Wren shrugged. “I don’t know. It’s not a big deal.”
Quinn scoffed, crossing her arms. “Well, running out on the High General’s brother is a pretty big fucking deal.”
“I know,” Wren muttered back. “I just…I wasn’t thinking.”
Quinn’s eyes darted to Arthur, the two of them sharing a silent communication.
