The elders had left, but their words clung to Tee like smoke after a fire, impossible to wave away. The chamber felt emptier without their looming presence, yet their voices lingered in her ears, repeating with a merciless cadence: “From this day forward, they are the only ones who remain unaware.”

  Unaware. The word sliced through her again and again. It meant everyone else there already knew—her secret was no longer hers. The thing she had buried for nineteen years, guarded with every lie and calculated gesture, was stripped bare for others to see. Xeno-victim. Cursed. Marked.

  And yet, the elders had spoken as though her exposure was only the beginning. A Sentinel, chosen for some task of eliminating Harbingers. A mission too large for her to even grasp. A man in black watching from the shadows. None of it connected; none of it made sense. She pressed her fingers hard against her temples, trying to wake herself from what had to be a dream. But her trembling body betrayed the truth. No dream trembled like that.

  Her hand drifted to her neck. Smooth skin. The mark was there—she knew it—but it felt unchanged, untouched. She blinked her foresight into place, glancing down to confirm. Nothing abnormal. Nothing scarred. Nothing screaming of the demon within. That small reassurance gave her the courage to leave the room.

  Telling her teammates never once crossed her mind. Some truths were better swallowed whole and left to rot inside.

  The corridors stretched long and unfamiliar, lit by strips of pale light embedded in the walls. As she walked, voices taunted her—not real, not tangible, but whispered memories her mind couldn’t silence. Liar. Deceiver. Xeno-victim. Monster. Each name heavier than the last. Her pulse pounded in her ears, echoing down the hall.

  Where was she even going? She tried to retrace her steps, but nothing looked familiar. Back to that room with its cold, sterile rows of beds? No—too suffocating, too unnatural. The thought of returning there sent her stomach flipping.

  Her thoughts shattered when she nearly collided with the Commander.

  He stood taller than her, blond hair sharp against his dark uniform, green eyes narrowing as they landed on her. His boots had the heavy thud of authority.

  “You seem lost,” he said, voice low, unreadable.

  Tee swallowed hard. “I’m trying to find my way,” she admitted, her tone sharper than intended.

  Her chest tightened as his gaze lingered on her. If the elders had spoken truth, then he too knew. Knew her secret. Knew what she was. Her instincts screamed that he couldn’t be trusted. Yet he gestured toward the elevator, walking at her side until the doors slid open with a hiss.

  She stepped in, tense and braced for anything. But he didn’t follow.

  “Training starts at six a.m. sharp,” he said, his tone clipped, final. Then the doors closed, shutting him away.

  Her heart didn’t slow until the elevator carried her to another floor.

  The doors opened to a wide common area, warmer than the sterile chambers she had left behind. Archways branched outward into unknown rooms. A staircase curved elegantly upward, splitting into two separate wings on the second floor. For the first time since the elders’ meeting, Tee exhaled slowly, trying to take it in.

  She blinked, summoning her foresight again until her vision carried her into a lounge. White couches gleamed pristine beneath the wash of daylight streaming through tall windows, their frames casting slender shadows across the room. Beyond a glass door, a pool sparkled under the sun, its surface rippling with flashes of light that danced like liquid diamonds. For a fleeting moment, she was caught in its beauty. Then her stomach growled loudly, dragging her back to earth.

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  The air smelled of something roasted, savory, seasoned just right. The scent wrapped around her like a lure, pulling her deeper into the space. Past a silver cabinet, she glimpsed another room—the kitchen.

  Her feet carried her there before her mind could catch up.

  She froze in the doorway.

  Kie stood at the counter, arms bare beneath a half-sleeved shirt, scarred skin twisting into maps she couldn’t read. A bottle of beer sat beside him, condensation dripping down its side. His attention was locked on a tablet, his jaw working steadily as he chewed. He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge her.

  So someone was taking advantage of the legal drinking age. Tee curled her nose. Alcohol never did anything for her—iced-coffee was the only thing capable of making her feel tipsy.

  Another wave of scent drifted through the air, richer, more intoxicating. Her stomach clenched. At the oven, Miko leaned forward, back to Tee.

  “You can cook?” Tee blurted, awe slipping through her voice before she could stop it.

  Miko jolted upright, nearly hitting her head on the cabinet. She spun, exhaling in relief when she saw Tee. “Phew, Tee. Good thing I wasn’t holding a knife.” Her smile stretched wide as she slid a tray forward. “The chicken’s not ready yet, but—cookies. Something to tide us over.”

  Tee blinked at the tray. Four cookies, golden and warm. Without hesitation, she snatched them all, shoving one into her mouth. The flavor exploded—sweet, buttery, perfect. Her eyes widened.

  “You didn’t make these,” she accused, narrowing her eyes.

  Miko grinned, unbothered. “I did! From scratch. There’s a pantry bigger than a bedroom, a freezer packed with ingredients. I’m going to make everything I can while we’re here. Honestly? This place might not be so bad.”

  Tee chewed slowly, reassessing. At the very least, she wouldn’t die of starvation. There were worse ways to go.

  She collapsed onto a stool, her gaze catching on a mounted tablet nearby. At her touch, the screen lit up with images of mouthwatering dishes. Her eyes went wide. “Please tell me you’re making Almatchy-chicken?” she demanded, pointing at a picture that made her mouth water.

  “Maybe tomorrow,” Miko teased.

  Their chatter flowed easily, the comfort of food breaking through the earlier suffocation. Still, Tee’s gaze wandered back to Kie. His tablet reflected dull light against his scarred skin. The lines and ridges across his arms whispered of violence and pain, but no answers.

  Soon the oven’s aroma thickened, filling the kitchen with warmth. That was when Saeda and Zod drifted in, drawn by the scent.

  “Can you believe this girl?” Zod said, jabbing his thumb toward Tee. “She claims she can see visions.”

  “I could,” Szedra interrupted as she entered, her hands brushing along the counter, tracing objects. Her face tightened. “Usually when I touch something, I see its past. But here? Nothing.”

  Zod didn’t laugh that time. His brow furrowed instead.

  Saeda perched on a stool, inhaling deeply. “What is that smell?”

  “The main course,” Miko announced proudly. She set down a tray of roasted chicken, its skin crisped to perfection, alongside steaming bread and a thick red sauce.

  The table drew them all in. Zod slid onto a stool beside Kie, who finally set down his tablet, eyes narrowing at the feast. Hunger softened even his sharp features.

  Plates clattered. Food was passed hand to hand.

  “This is so much better than the Mid-Guard food,” Kie said around a mouthful, his cheeks puffed like a chipmunk.

  “Compliments to the chef,” Zod chimed in, surprising Tee with sincerity.

  “Same,” Saeda added quickly.

  Tee hummed her agreement, too busy devouring a slice of bread soaked in sauce to say more.

  Miko ducked her head, modest as ever, though pride flickered in her eyes. “There’s so much food here,” she said softly. “Almost too much.”

  It was Tee, voice muffled with food, who muttered the thought that twisted the room: “Maybe they’re fattening us up. To feed us to Xenosapians.”

  Silence rippled across the table before Zod groaned. “You’re insane.”

  The others dismissed it as nonsense, but Tee didn’t laugh. She couldn’t.

  Because in that place, nothing felt impossible.