Page 212

I gasp, my heart breaking for the people picking through the rubble. The cameraman’s too far away for any close-ups, but I can see them, crawling around their broken town like tiny ants.

“In other news, here in the lower forty-eight, residents in Kansas are waking up to reports of more unexplained lights in the sky.”

The footage changes. Right away, it’s obvious this video was originally filmed on someone’s cell phone. The camera’s pointed at the night sky, thousands of sparking stars just barely visible behind the clouds. For a long moment, nothing happens.

Then, the person recording lets out a curse as dozens of balls of light shoot across the sky, one after the other. It’s an endless shower of falling stars the size of basketballs.

The camera follows the lights until they begin to slow. Eventually, they fizzle out, disappearing over the horizon as fast as they appeared.

“The unexplained phenomena were accompanied by massive power outages in half the state. Leaving hundreds of thousands without electricity, and the power companies at a loss with no identifiable cause as to why or how their power grid was affected.”

A man in coveralls with a company logo patched on the breast and a utility belt appears on screen. His mouth is pursed, lips pressed in a thin, angry line, exhaustion clear in each line of his face.

He leans into the microphone and glares at the person interviewing him. “Ma’am, there ain’t no timeline for when the power’ll be back up because there ain’t nothin’ wrong with the lines. We’ve checked every transformer, every line, every substation from here to God’s green cornfield, and there ain’t a damn thing wrong with any of it.”

“So you’re saying you don’t know what caused this,” the reporter asks, before shoving the mic back in the guy’s face. He gives her an exasperated look.

“Did I say I don’t know what caused it? ‘Course I do. It was those damn balls of light. But whatever they were, they didn’t leave us a note explainin’ how to turn the juice back on. Folks are just gonna have to sit tight, cause this ain’t in the manual.”

The man stalks off, and the footage cuts back to the reporter.

“Other areas across the world experienced disturbances overnight as well. In Italy, a six-hundred-year-old church collapsed after witnesses heard what they’re describing as a ‘sound like a thousand voices screaming.’ Just hours ago in Tokyo, hundreds of flights were grounded when the compasses of several planes began spinning wildly before take-off.”

The newscaster rattles off reports from Greece, Scotland and Nigeria. I listen intently, until her voice starts to sound like static and the footage on screen—disaster after disaster after disaster—blurs into a single, never-ending nightmare.

I’m drowning in shame. I’ve been so focused on myself and my pain. And all this time, these people have lost homes, jobs, and even their lives to unexplainable events I had no idea were even happening.

I spent years trapped in my father’s house, selfishly believing that my little world was the only one on fire.

Now, seeing entire towns leveled, acres of crops dead and destroyed, beautiful, priceless art ruined, historical architecture in literal pieces… I’m finally realizing just how small my world truly is.

Caelan leans over Soren and snags the remote. Next thing I know, I’m staring at a black screen.

I blink, letting my eyes focus in the dimly lit room. I swallow, trying to work moisture into my mouth.

“What—what does all of that have to do with me?”

Caelan lets out a resigned sigh and covers my hand with his. “We don’t really know. It might not actually have anything to do with you, Idril. That’s part of the problem—it’s something else we can’t find answers to.”

“Alright… well, what do you know?”

“Not much. Daxen’s been tracking these anomalies for a while. To be transparent, he’s been tracking them since they brought you to HQ. Apparently, they really ramped up the night of the ambush.”

“And?” I push, knowing there’s something he’s not telling me.

“Daxen thinks it’s… strange,” he admits, grimacing.

“Daxen thinks you’re the reason this shit is happening,” Soren corrects. “Because Daxen has his head stuck so far up his ass he’s basically blind.”

My mind spins. I don’t even know what to say. Suddenly, so many things start to make sense, and that only makes me feel worse.

This is why Daxen hates me? He really believes I’ve had something to do with all these terrible things happening around the world? What, does he think I’m so powerful I can cause a Church to collapse without even knowing I’m doing it—from four thousand miles away?

It’s ludicrous!

Isn’t it?

“What am I?” I whisper. I don’t remember grabbing Soren’s hand, but I squeeze, terrified of his answer.