Page 107 of Fallacies

As if the sky has collapsed on top of it, burying everything it once was, and what exists now is only a graveyard. Empty, haunted, and lifeless.

Callan’s hands find my waist, and I flinch, snapping back into my body with a jolt.

“You okay?” he asks, and I nod, trying to slow my breathing.

We’ve come to a break in the buildings. Devon, Hunter, and Nix are waiting up ahead, crouched behind the wide columns that dissect the gates. The Estate gates—the massive city center towering high above us.

This is as far as they can take me.

Fear grips my heart, choking the organ, and I’m about to fully succumb to it when Callan grabs my wrist and pulls me behind the crumbling building to our left.

It takes me a second to get my bearings, but I’m pretty sure it used to be a church. Tall, narrow windows line the wall that remains, each one shattered. Broken glass litters the floor, smashed pews line the aisle, and the only thing in the room that hasn’t been destroyed is the altar.

I’m gaping at the scene before me when Callan lets go of my wrist, takes my face in his hands, and kisses me.

For one blissful moment, all the panic, fear, and dread cease. I latch onto that relief and kiss him back, not realizing how badly I needed it. After everything that was said last night and given everything I’m about to walk into, this stolen moment is exactly what I needed—what we needed.

And when Callan pulls away, my stomach knots itself once more.

“Remember what I told you?” He asks, pushing my braid over my shoulder.

“You’ve told me lots of things.”

Callan’s eyes soften, dipping into something sorrowful. “Don’t hesitate. Ever,” he tells me. “We have gut feelings, as humans do, but ours are guided by magic. Ancient and powerful and wise. Promise me you’ll listen to it and never, ever, hesitate.”

I swallow against the lump forming in my throat and nod. “I promise.”

“Good.” Callan glances up at the sky, through the gaping hole where the ceiling used to be. To where Lune Sylra still lingers in the slowly rising dawn. “I’ll be there every step.” He lets his forehead fall to mine, his hold tightening. “Okay?”

“Okay,” I whisper back, the lump in my throat swelling around the word.

“I love you.”

That pinch of pain returns in my chest. “I love you, too.”

Closing the distance between us for one final kiss, Callan pulls himself away, glancing to where Pax waits just outside. “Go ahead with your illusion,” he tells me.

I nod, taking a much-needed breath before flooding my veins with a ration of Sol magic, letting it seep through my skin and cover my body in the illusion of the girl I’ve memorized.

I’m a servant in the Estate, I recite to myself. I enjoy reading and sneaking drinks from the kitchen.

My new appearance tingles as it spreads, morphing my features until I’m, hopefully, a replica of Alesi.

I prefer solace to the company of others, and I never smile fully.

“Ready?” Callan asks, turning back to face me. To his credit, he doesn’t flinch, but he doesn’t look directly in my eyes either.

“Ready.” I reinforce the illusion, finding a comfortable grip on my magic, and step out into the open.

Pax straightens as I approach, approving my appearance with a nod and a proud smile. I can’t stomach a look back in Callan’s direction, so I force myself forward. One step after another.

My name is Alesi.

I was chosen to join the Rogues in Streatham.

I left my family behind in Onyile, but they probably miss me a lot more than I miss them.

I approach the gates ahead, and Devon, still crouched behind a column, signals me forward. Hunter watches from the other side, keeping an eye on the main door to the Estate.