Shean could not recall what it was that had woken her. There was a feeling of a slight wrongness, perhaps an odd smell in the air, but nothing certain — nothing she could hold on to, when her now-alert mind collided with the dreaming ones around.

She stared up into the darkness, trying to calm down, but predictably it was not working. The rush of the others’ unconsciousness came at her in waves, powerful enough to drown. She lacked the skill yet to fight it, so before she knew it she had given in and was pulled under.

Lying on her back, Shean felt her own body slip away from her, tugged in odd directions by fragments of thought that were too small for her to decipher. It was not pain exactly, more of an existential discomfort, but much like pain it had to be waited out. It had happened to her before; now, too, it would pass.

Slowly, gradually, her consciousness accustomed itself, and the chaos began to abate. The blackness spun above her, unrelieved even by the slightest tinge of grey. The curtains around the bed ate up all sound, and the loudest thing Shean could hear was her own heartbeat — so potent, at the moment, that it seemed to push her as it came in, strong like the tide. The feel of her own body, her limbs, returned, so she could sense her own weight again as it was pulled slightly to the side by the moon that hung low above the horizon.

The dawn was near, but not so near that she should not sleep a little more if she could. In the morning, there would be consequences — waking up by accident was a child’s mistake, something Shean was expected to be long past at her age. The Mistresses would be displeased, Siel would laugh at her — and Shean could not even tell what had caused it, could not explain and would have no defense.

Someday, she thought as her consciousness faded, someday she would become better at it — someday she would no longer err, and would know…

When she woke again, to the sound of the bells and the grey light of morning, it took her a moment to remember why she felt so beaten; but as she did, inevitably she was caught.

Waking at night? Mistress Sian called at her, pointing her thoughts so hard that Shean winced. The others all turned to stare. The inner hum of their surprise was too undefined for words, but what Shean felt of it was bad enough. The Mistress went on, making Shean shrink further —

Indeed you should feel ashamed before your peers. This is a remarkable failure. Can you explain it?

Shean had nothing to offer her, and could only radiate confusion.

If you cannot even remember what it was that woke you up, the Mistress thought, you clearly lack control. I did not expect it of you. You will improve your concentration.

The command fell heavy as granite, leaving Shean no choice but compliance.

I will, she thought, and tried her best to stop feeling. The first and most essential step to control was having no emotion, none at all. Yet she was so tired, after not sleeping enough… and ashamed… and afraid…

But what had there been to be afraid of?

Shean’s embarrassment only grew with each successive idea, and was apparently discomforting enough that the Mistress relented and let her go.

It is most important that you do not give in, she called to the room at large, and the others acquiesced as she went on, Keep trying, keep pushing no matter how hard it gets, for that is the only way. You know what happens otherwise.

The morning dimness felt a little darker as the ringing doom of that idea hit them all and evoked the understanding. They did all know — it wasn’t a knowledge that could be escaped, not with the Affirmations to remind them all of the harm that could be done when control was lacking and attention was not paid.

The others were washing themselves, wiping their bodies with wet cloths, and Shean joined in, rushing it because she had wasted time trying to quiet her inner turmoil. The water was near-freezing, but the pain cleared the mind, and by the time Shean was done she realized she was hungry. But that would have to wait; first, there was the morning Affirmation to go through, and one class.

Shean pulled on her robes hastily, ignoring the familiar prickle of rough wool, and just managed to find her place in time for the whole group to step out and proceed in orderly fashion down to the yard.

On the way other groups joined them, and Shean sensed Siel’s mind nearby. They had not seen each other, but that was not needed — Siel was somewhere close enough for awareness, and for her thoughts to sting Shean upon contact like electricity, like pain and power rolled into one.

It took Siel only a moment of scanning the minds of others before she learned of Shean’s error.

I’ve always known you were weaker, Siel shot at her. Waking up like a baby! What next, voicing, visions, madness? I’ve always known this would be how you’d end up.

I am not ended yet, Shean thought back.

Arrogant, Siel slapped at her, and Shean flinched away.

Cut it, a graduate called to both of them from the front. Save it for work. This is not the time.

Irritated, Siel nonetheless subsided, obeying her elder. But Shean still felt her mind near, with its fiery brilliance that saw nothing but sharp, black shadows and pure light.

The grounds met them all with a sporadic rain, a pearly sky, and a faint smell of cinder drifting in from the great mines in the mountains.

Much strangeness came from the mines, but Shean had long ago learned not to question. The mines were secretive enterprises, employing only those who excelled in thought closure, so that the discoveries and practices of one mine could not be stolen by another. Smells and sounds, eerie lights, even an oddly-colored precipitation now and then — they all went unexplained, pointedly ignored by the Mistresses, and even when rare outliers like Siel dared ask, no answer came.

The main yard was large enough to accommodate the whole school — the students and the staff, several hundreds in total. Some children would get frightened at first by the crowd — those who grew up in manors or villages and had never before seen such numbers in one place. To Shean, born and raised in a city, this had felt almost like home — but only in the beginning, only until the first Affirmation came and tore her apart, leaving her weeping blood. Shean had not expected it to be much worse than what occurred in the city, but she had learned better. Back home, with the Affirmations led by the Mayor, the force of them was spread among all the citizens. Here, though, there were only a few hundreds — and to add to that, the Directress held a higher rank in the Academy than the Mayor and therefore possessed greater power. Shean had regretted coming here then — had spent a long time regretting it, hurt and lonely as she’d been then. Now she was older and stronger, soon to be a graduate herself, and the Affirmation was no longer a destructive force to her. But even now she still had not learned to appear unaffected by it the way the Mistresses did.

The Directress rose from her seat and stepped forward, and Shean watched, trying hurriedly to empty her mind. It was not working; still her worries clung to her, and she felt Siel’s attention on her, like an arrow trained on her back. When the wave came Shean would not be ready. She gave up trying and braced herself for the coming darkness.

The wave of silence was a complex piece of mental arts, far above even the graduate level. Shean could never think her way through it — might as well try to swim up a waterfall. There was no place for awareness in it, no place for a sense of time passing; but there would be pain, if you failed to be sufficiently prepared. At least it was short.

Once it was done and her consciousness returned, Shean found herself shivering and blind; she stared in front of herself, waiting for her eyesight to recover, and listening to the envy that echoed all around her. There were a lot of younger students here, those who had not learned better yet, had not truly understood. The Affirmation would teach them, eventually. Ambition was expected here, in one of the most prestigious schools of the colony, but it had to be stifled.

Follow me, the Directress thought at the assembly, her voice so strong an imperative that it bent the will like a blade of grass. Repeat. Remember. Believe.

After years here, Shean knew all too well what was to come.

I am guilty, the Directress called, and they followed all as one, irresistibly compelled, broken already.

I am guilty, as those that came before me were guilty. My guilt is that of conceit, and of haste; my flaws are numerous, and must be restrained. I am angry, and anger has no place in the natural world that surrounds me. I am defensive, and defense is redundant. I am evil, and I shall pay for it unless, and until, I change. Thus I promise to spend my life, changing; I shall grow, and evolve, until time or death erase my flaws, and I am at last forgiven.

Until I am rid of evil thoughts, until I am rid of anger, I shall always carry the guilt. I shall always pay for the Crime. I am one of many, and until I die, I shall labor for the redemption, unattainable though it might be.

Shean found herself facedown on the grass when it was over, and sat up with effort, feeling the weight in her bones as if they were made of lead. This made the wave of silence seem almost tolerable. The emanations of pain and misery coming from all around made her queasy, and her hunger was gone. Yet at the same time she was hazily glad to have done her duty — to have gone through another Affirmation, and survived; to have suffered, and perhaps bettered herself through it, and paid a little more of the great debt incurred by her ancestors.

It had been generations since Shean’s people came to this place, but the story of their arrival still reverberated. They had thought the world empty, the civilization that had populated it long gone. Once they discovered there was another, they came to meet it, intending at first to come in peace — but with the many flaws that riddled their minds it was, of course, not to be. They failed to understand what they saw, and responded with violence to what was in fact only confusion. By the time they learned of their mistake, it was already too late. The innocent locals had perished, murdered by the invaders, and the shame and guilt of it would be indelible. One mistake it was, only one — but one was enough when it showed the true depths of evil that reigned in their hearts, poisoning their mind and their genes forever. The Affirmation was meant to remind and to punish, to ensure that what had been done is remembered, and would not happen again.

Yet by now, after so many years, the significance of it had diminished. Back home, Shean remembered, the Affirmations were seen as largely irrelevant — something to endure, then forget about. The Academy disapproved, but it had little power over the cities, populated as they were by lower office and field workers. At least in its own schools the Academy could do as it saw fit; and so at least here the Affirmations functioned as they were meant to, shining a light on the truth and making sure that no-one could look away regardless of how much it hurt.

The smell of burning was still in the air, mixed with the morning damp. Waiting for her stomach to settle, Shean watched the Mistresses as they stood up and fanned out, each proceeding to her class, so graceful and poised as if they’d not been affected at all. Whether they truly weren’t in pain, or simply knew how to contain and hide it, Shean had no way of knowing.

Exercise, now, Mistress Sian ordered Shean’s group as she came closer, and sent them a picture of how they were to arrange themselves. No more instructions were needed, because the morning exercise was always the same: concentration and exploration, and general preparations for the day to come.

The mental aftereffects of the Affirmation were beginning to set in, and Shean’s mind was growing pleasantly blank. She sensed Siel’s approach and turned to face her. Siel’s eyes glittered as she settled on the grass, tucking her legs under herself. She was arranging the folds of her robe carefully, so as not to crinkle it, when Shean heard her speak —

You can’t do it today. Not now, not after what you did during the night. You’ll fail.

She looked up, serenity and spite mixing peculiarly in her expression.

Not if you guide me, Shean thought, meeting her eyes — and falling.

It was rare to find your true opposite, so you had to make do with the next best choice. For her, that was Siel. They were not a true match — not exactly dissimilar in every way, as it should be — but there was enough of a natural discord between them to make things work, to allow for a safe channel most of the time. Where Siel was hard and stubborn, Shean was flexible and retreated easily, stepping away from trouble when Siel would pick up a fight. But both alike lacked warmth, and in that similarity lay a weakness which at times had left them open to outside influences and damage. Still, that did not happen often, and it was at least more than some others here had. Being able to work properly, as only the presence of the opposite allowed, was worth it, even if occasional disturbances were the price to pay for it.

Today, though, the channel opened strong and clear, separating the two girls from the rest, excluding the world. Their surroundings retreated fast, until there was nothing left but an ocean of endless, blissful light.

And you said I couldn’t, Shean thought, elated, feeling the surge growing between them and carrying her onward, as the energy built up. Here we go, here I come…

Pulled by the current, she had taken the first turn without asking, and now she felt Siel’s irritation at that; but it only made her stronger. Here, in the light and quiet of near-solitude, all tasks seemed easy — all goals attainable, as if all it would take was for Shean to reach for them. She was aware it was only an illusion, a consequence of this artificial environment; the sense of power would end, and leave her drained. Yet while it lasted, work could be done.

Don’t go too far, Siel called, it’s only morning. But the flood had already claimed Shean, and she rose with the waves, unwilling and unable to stop, reveling in the addictive joy of privacy, of her mind being — almost — only her own…

Her kind had a complex relationship with the idea of being alone. Separation was sought, precisely because it did not come naturally. When awake, they would hold back their thinking as much as they could to avoid intruding; and while keeping secrets from minds more skilled than your own was impossible, it was only polite to try and stay out of others’ thoughts as best as you could. Yet in the same time none of them could do well when deprived of contact with the minds of others. Hearing nobody but yourself felt wrong, unnatural somehow; and so when faced with a lonely journey their instinct was to pull someone — anyone — into joining, by force if need be. This kind of call could have great power, and even trained minds would find it hard to resist — unless they were the opposite, and therefore immune.

While not a true match, Siel was close enough to that to not really feel the pull, and stay safely on the ground. Shean could just see her down there, far enough that they could no longer hear each other. Then even that distant shadow fell away, lost in the blinding sunlight, and before Shean could think she reached for it…

She was walking down a sunlit street, wide and quiet. The newborn leaves on trees glistened wetly, motionless in the warm, still air. The dandelions dotted the lawns, bright yellow and wide open to the sun. Apart from this new growth, the city seemed unchanged from when Shean had been there last — unchanged, yet oddly empty. Where she would have expected the usual grumble of disordered but wakeful thoughts, or even the chaos of sleeping hours, she felt nothing, and found nobody.

Shean stopped.

There was nobody she could hear.

Did she bring it on herself by thinking of it? But she could not quite remember when that happened. Fear took over, making her shiver despite the heat. Either she had gone deaf, or they had all left. Shean walked faster, then broke into a run.

She galloped through the streets, looking into windows, but there were only shadows inside. She tried to breathe deeper, to will her panic away, but it was not working, and she ran on.

An old memory was rising in her mind, too worn-out to be clear. Something she’d learned once — layers, there was something about layers. If she found a way into a deeper layer, she would find her way to people, and with that might come answers. But there was also danger, some danger, because she was not — not trained enough, should not, should…

Should be careful. That was always the right choice. Shean stopped to listen again, straining, and this time caught something — a scratching at the edge of her consciousness, unintelligible, scrambled, as if she was picking up thoughts across great distance. She was used to tuning these things out, but now in the utter silence that surrounded her this tiny prickle of sound was the only guide she had, and she headed towards it at a gallop, hoping — listening —

Shean did not get far before coming to a wall.

She glared at it, exasperated, anxious. The signal, weak but distinct in direction, came from beyond the wall, she was sure; but there was no door in sight.

Shean closed her eyes for a brief moment, trying to calm down and think. It was only an old district wall; there would be passages through it somewhere. She would eventually come upon one or another if she followed the wall. She put her hand to it, just to be sure — in this maze of narrow, winding streets it was all too easy to lose the way — and walked along, turning with the wall as it snaked through the city.

Abruptly the distant call came louder, and then Shean saw it — an archway, small and low, with steps leading up. She rushed to it and through, taking it in just a few leaps, certain now that there, at last, she would find others — would find someone and at last hear — she could almost make out the words, could —

In a flash sound and thought assaulted her, and she fell to her knees on the last steps, clutching at the stone. Her head was exploding with pain, but she forced herself to look.

Before her, just an arm’s length away, was the stampede.

They were galloping past her, all in the same direction, stumbling into each other in the smoke; their thoughts crowded her head, so shrill she could no longer hear herself, could only perceive — and what she heard filled her with dread.

Get away! they screamed, words only half-formed, but the emotion behind them was enough to make the meaning clear. To the river! Run, run from the fire, run before death!

And then — then the other voices came, wordless cries of those who had not been fast enough — who were dying; and Shean cried with them, petrified by the unspeakable pain the fire gave as it shrank the skin and boiled the blood, peeling the nerves raw until the heart could no longer take it, and gave out…

Terror muddled her thinking, tricking her senses and rendering the world blurry, but even through this she could still make out something — something in the distance, among all those running legs; something small like a stone, but with an inner glow — and moving, oddly moving…

Then something tore at her chest, and she screamed — a river had risen around her, black and freezing — or was it only rain she was screaming into, only rain that held her in its waves, the cold calming the pain…

What have you done? Siel’s voice broke into her consciousness, angry and terrified. Why did you bring this to us? What is the meaning of this?

Gradually, Siel’s face swam into focus, shadowy against the grey sky. In her eyes, Shean could see her own reflection.

What? Shean thought back, trying and failing to concentrate, as her dizziness came and went. Others were thinking at her as well, but they were so loud — too loud for her to understand. The rain was seeping through her robe, making her tremble in Siel’s arms. I don’t know, I know nothing, what do you mean? I haven’t done anything…

A vision, Shean. The proclamation fell heavy as a stone, and the face of the Directress came into view. You’ve had a vision.

Oh, Shean thought weakly. That’s what it was.

The skies were growing blacker. Siel had let her go, stepping aside to make way for the Directress. The woman’s hand felt cool on Shean’s skin, and as she met Shean’s eyes there was something — a probing, a push — but Shean was too tired to obey or listen. For a little while, she was still aware; but soon enough darkness overtook her again.

By the time Shean came around she had been brought indoors.

With effort, she sat up on the bed, untangling her limbs. The tall, pale walls were the same as everywhere else in the school, but the rows of empty beds around told her she was in the infirmary. Next to her Mistress Sian stood by the bedside table, mixing a drink.

The quiet will help you recover, the Mistress thought. She was not looking at Shean, her attention all taken by the medicine she was measuring out with great care. Visions are quite taxing on the body. Now you will need much rest; it is very stressful an experience for one of your age. Take this.

The liquid she offered Shean was clear and colorless, indistinguishable in appearance from water, but when Shean took a gulp it felt oily, and the taste made her cringe. The drink dropped heavily into her stomach and sat there, radiating coolness.

What will this do to me? she wondered.

It should ease your mind, the Mistress thought. Whether it will, remains to be seen. If it does not, we will try other treatments. Relax now.

Shean tried, but the memories were floating up, clamoring for her attention, and with them came worry.

Visions were known to be unreliable, showing only what was possible rather than certain, and few were qualified enough to be able to wring any useful truth out of them. The students were encouraged to avoid this phenomenon, to close their minds to the paths from where it might come; and Shean had followed those instructions with the rest, never doubting the reasoning behind. Yet now she knew what a vision felt like, and could not help but question.

The city had been exactly as she remembered — not at all an alien, bewildering jumble that she’d have expected of a reality far removed from her own. The people’s thoughts, too, had felt real — and familiar, the overall timbre of them the exact same color as she recalled.

She had not gone far — it was for the best, really; now that she was out of it, she remembered what it was about layers that she could not quite place. Visions had layers, and a well-trained mind could penetrate them — could, if lucky, find a grain of usefulness in an otherwise confusing picture. But for a mere student like herself it was an impossible task. No wonder she only managed to sink one step, one level down — no wonder…

You’ve done well to have attained even that, the Mistress thought. Yet at the same time, you should have remembered not to make the attempt. Conceit and haste, Shean. The work to overcome your flaws must never cease, not even when you are unwell.

I understand, Shean responded.

You have frightened the other students, the Mistress continued. Do not speak of this to them, when you return. We wish for no more turmoil.

I apologize, Shean thought.

The thoughts of the Mistress took on a compassionate tone.

Don’t dwell too much on it. Finish your drink, rest, and try to forget what you have seen.

Shean held back from wording, but the feel of her mind must’ve been clear enough, because the Mistress went on —

It will be hard, I understand, yet it must be done. There is an allure to visions, an illusion of reality greater than they truly hold. You must not succumb to it. This vision will not come to pass — there are no grounds for us to believe so. Her thoughts turned slightly sour. You are not the first I have to explain this to, today.

I am sorry, Shean repeated. I reached for it. I didn’t think.

It was a mistake, the Mistress agreed. But this experience has been punishment enough. Take it as a lesson, do not take that path again, and we shall forget this misstep. Don’t stress yourself over it. Finish the drink, and rest.

The window next to the bed on which Shean sat was half-open, and the cold air coming in felt pleasant on her burning forehead. Rain had begun outside, covering the far distance in a soft grey mist. A few drops flew in with a gust of wind, landing on her robe. As the Mistress was turning to leave, Shean remembered —

I haven’t eaten.

Nobody has, yet, the Mistress thought irritably. Our day has been much disturbed. But we shall eat now, and I’ll send some food to you.

Shean thanked her wordlessly, and in a rustle of robes the Mistress left.

The rain was growing stronger, and Shean watched it as she sipped the medicine, trying and failing to chase away the ghost of sunlit, smoke-filled streets. It had felt real — the pain, the dying — she had to remember it was not, and work to overcome her flaws.

Yet at the moment Shean was too depleted to summon appropriate rancor. She stared into the rain, as it pelted the leaves — the same leaves as in the vision; small and sticky, they would not be that way for long, the spring was fleeting here…

Before her meal arrived, she had fallen asleep right there, in front of an open window.

At first, Shean mistook the persistent vocalizations for a part of her own dreamscape. But when she was shaken by the shoulder, and so roughly that one of her front legs slid off the bed, she had no choice but to wake up.

Twice in as many nights was decidedly too much. When she pulled her eyelids open with effort and again saw Siel, anger flooded her mind.

What do you want? she lashed out. Why are you here? Have you decided to torture me? Once was enough! I don’t want to be awake, nobody wants to be awake at night! Why are you doing this?

Slow down, Siel shot at her, grabbing at her wrist for better contact. You’re in the infirmary, remember? Not surrounded by sleepers, alone. Listen to the quiet, and calm down.

Shean glared up at her, but the words penetrated. She could sense none but Siel around, not even in the distance. Still, she was not well-rested. The moon was nearly full now, she remembered as she felt for it — and there it was, in the east, just risen.

You could’ve let me sleep, you know. Siel let her go, and Shean sat up in bed, pulling the blanket to the base of her neck. The air was cold; she could see her own breath and Siel’s, coming in small puffs. The lamp Siel had brought in stood on the table, with its tiny flame burning steady behind the thick glass. What do you want that couldn’t have waited until morning?

In the weak light, Siel’s eyes seemed luminous.

I want you to look at this.

And just like that, Shean was outside again — under the heavy grey skies, on the lawns, watching her own unconscious body being carried away. It was Siel’s memory, seen through Siel’s eyes — Shean recognized the slight tinge of oddness on everything, the barely perceptible shift in colors that signaled she was in another’s mind. Memories could be incorrect, but Shean had been trained already to notice the signs of that; and either way, Siel was too close to her in skill level to be able to trick her. For now, this seemed real enough.

The Mistresses stood congregated in their usual spot, deep in private conversation among themselves. Siel considered them for a moment, hesitating, then approached.

Wordless thoughts were too fleeting and numerous to be coherently recalled, which meant Shean could not know now what Siel was thinking. It was jarring then to hear Siel’s voice call out with no warning —

What will happen to her? Will she recover?

As one, the Mistresses turned to stare at her, the exact same impenetrable look on all of their faces. Eventually, one responded —

That is probable.

Will she be punished? Siel took another step towards them. She did nothing wrong. She did not stray from the path. You can see it, I remember it well.

Indeed, that is how you recall it, the Directress assented. However, you could have missed something. You did not appear to pay much attention. She did not sound angry — she never did, there was no need to. You must do better in future.

I apologize, Mistress. Siel looked down. Contrition did not come easily to her, and Shean was worried now she’d not last, would start with the questions again. But before she could, someone interrupted —

What of the vision?

A group of graduates had come closer; tall, all but grown and months from being initiated, they could not be dismissed as easily.

It was so clear, one of them thought. Horrible. This can’t happen, can it?

I have never been so afraid before, another added. I did not know such pain existed.

Shean should not be punished, the third one stated. She carried this burden without breaking. She came back to us, found her way out. She did well.

The Directress moved forward, breaking away from the other Mistresses, drawing all eyes to herself. The graduates took some steps back.

She came out, because I pulled her out, the Directress thought, her voice as dispassionate as before. Her punishment is not for you to decide. Let this be a lesson to you. You have been told not to stray; now you have seen why. Return to your work, now.

The graduates hesitated. Siel stood still, forgotten, listening.

But what of the vision? the first girl repeated, unable to let it go. It won’t happen, will it?

How can it? another countered. Where could this fire come from? The city uses hardly any, and with all the regulations it couldn’t possibly —

If it showed up in some vision, then there must be some way —

I think she saw something moving down below, do you remember? What was that?

This time, none of them were ready.

The field flickered out of existence. Shean stared into blackness, waiting for Siel’s sight to return. There must have been pain, but much like Shean herself, Siel did not remember. Slowly, grass swam into view; with effort, Siel got up.

The rain had picked up again, and she shivered. The Directress was looking at them all in turn, one by one; she did not appear changed, yet her consciousness loomed, daunting, suffocating, making any protest impossible, as her quiet words pelted them like hailstones —

There will be no more questions. A vision is not the truth. It is not your place to scrutinize it. This is no concern of yours. You will return to your work now. You will think no more of this incident. The command came undeniable, harsh as lightning. Go.

And just like that, it was over — the memory, the daytime, the rain; Shean was back on the bed, with Siel sitting next to her, apparently expecting her to have understood.

Shean had not.

I don’t know why you showed this to me.

Siel was unfazed —

Suspicious. Odd. Doesn’t add up.

I don’t see it.

Siel radiated exasperation.

Did you notice when, exactly, she sent out the wave of silence? What they were speaking of, just before?

This doesn’t mean anything, Shean argued. They were asking too many questions.

So? It is not forbidden, Siel countered.

She does not have to answer.

She did not have to silence us all, either. Siel’s mind was rushing, harried by her certainty. She has the right, yes, but how often does she use it, outside of Affirmations? And yet this time — this is what she chose, this is what she thought of, the moment they began to ask why. She knows the wave of silence cleanses the mind, that it’s a distraction. She did not want us to think of the vision, did not want us to ask —

You have thought, though, Shean noted. How did they not catch you?

Siel shared a sequence — Shean’s empty spot on the grass; a hallway; a library, a lonely table by the window. She had used Shean’s absence to leave, and go study on her own.

Mealtimes were a challenge, Siel admitted. It was hard to distract myself, to avoid thinking of it. But if I’d failed, I wouldn’t be here, would I? She was not entirely sure. I did not sleep, waited for the others to. I feel sorry for you now — I forgot how bad it was, to be awake when they are not… I don’t know how I made it out of there, it was awful, I had to wait it out before I could even move —

Tell me why you’ve come, Shean interrupted. Tell me what you want of me.

Siel caught her wrist again and leaned in closer. Her skin felt hot, a little feverish.

She did not want us to talk about the vision, Siel thought. Did not want us to wonder about the cause… She knows something, and won’t tell us. She must know the vision is true, or likely to be. She must’ve recognized it. Shean could feel Siel’s mind spiraling, leaping from conclusion to conclusion, convincing itself along the way. Of course she wouldn’t tell us then — imagine the panic it would cause. She must be panicking, too, if she let herself overreact like this.

You’re reaching, Shean thought.

No. Siel’s breath touched her skin. I am sensing something. Something is going on. They’re not telling us, but I can’t just leave it be, we must do something —

And there it was, in her mind — a sketch, a plan — the road, the village, the shadowed entrance; all there already, outlined, decided —

No! Shock made Shean try to scramble away, but there was only a wall behind her. This is forbidden, she shot out, against the rules three times over, too risky, too much —

I didn’t ask you to come with me!

But Shean was staring at her, and she had already seen it — for the first time this night, she was really looking, not into Siel’s eyes but at her back. She was wearing a robe and a coat, ready for the outside; and across her back was draped a spare coat — not Shean’s own, because that would’ve taken a trip into an unknown bedroom, but the intent was clear enough.

Siel jumped off the bed, glaring.

So what if I wanted to ask you? I don’t need you! It was the truth and it wasn’t, and they both felt it, the double-edged impact of it. I can do it on my own, Siel continued more calmly. If you don’t care to join me — don’t care to know the truth — then I can go alone.

Shean reached for her hand, stroked it gently to calm her down. Words came to her, but she kept them back, unwilling to hurt. Before Siel could notice it, she thought instead —

What would it gain? So you look into the Academy’s papers, find out what is happening; let’s say you are right, that the vision is true, that they are hiding it. What then? What can we do that the Academy cannot? What good will it be if we know?

If we do, we can let the others know as well, Siel thought. Then they will not be able to stop us. We are not Academy yet, so they won’t tell us anything — won’t ask for our help, even if they could use it. A vision is not the truth, remember? There has to be a way to prevent it, to force another outcome.

It felt unwise, inadvisable, yet in a way indisputable, too. Shean considered it.

It was spring, too — it has to be soon, she thought. If the Academy still hasn’t done it, it might not be possible.

The Academy is governed by the principles of the Affirmation, Siel reminded her, grimly. Defense is unnecessary. Do you believe they would abandon that, just to save one city? There are many more; it won’t matter to them if this one falls. She took the spare coat and laid it next to Shean. But it will matter to us. It’s home, to you as well as me. I cannot let it burn.

There was a plate of food left on the table, sent by the Mistress as promised. It was cold now, but Shean had not eaten in over a day, and it still seemed appealing enough now that she finished it in just a few swallows, while Siel was checking the lamp. Once that was all done, Shean pulled on the coat, and together the girls crept out of the infirmary, and into the night.