Navin and Japha’s eyes fly open. Japha stands straight, his head cocked to the side while his crooked fingers squeeze open and closed. Navin grabs my hair, “I’m going to get in there.”

They speak in a language I don’t know—not Velierian, but they are clearly confused. I know this due to the vein in the middle of Navin’s forehead.

“Again,” Japha tells him. “I’ll get her.” Japha leaves the room again in such a hurry the door slams behind him.

Navin’s eyes glare into mine and I can see his pupils grow and shrink as the light fades in and out. He is so close that the sweat glistens from his pores. Why are his cheeks so red? Something is different. An awareness kicks in that I can only describe as crystalline—the magnification through a looking glass, or the cast of light against falling particles in the air. The earth’s kaleidoscope suddenly shifts to create a clearer picture of the colors and shapes around me.

Geo spoke of this. The Void, or the Awakening—something that Ephemes haven’t enough years to experience. The particles in the air come to life, bouncing in front of my eyes. Had they been there before? Every detail regenerates my senses. I notice everything: a lightbulb flicker, two doors—one ahead and one behind, and that it will take me thirteen seconds to free my hands. My brain effortlessly calculates the distance between Navin and Ian.

“The Void,” Geo said, “is where the mind finally releases control over how much one sees, or how much one feels in order to protect them from excess. The Void of our own trenches where we lie in wait for the next tragedy or the shackles of our own fear.”

Where has that uncomfortable oppression that tells me I have no control over the next moment gone? My hands are calm, and my heart keeps a normal rhythm. Yet something tells me this isn’t half of what Velieri know, or even a quarter of the Awakening. Somewhere, between this realm and that, there are voices I can hear. They make no sense and seem so quiet even God will have to listen carefully—every cadence unique. Or perhaps these voices are God?

The boundaries of a forty-foot room disappear in the same manner that my human boundaries flee, revealing an interworking where spirit collides with the flesh—one that I’ve never experienced. It was once a mystery how Navin snuck into the recesses of my brain, but at this moment, his strategy seems almost . . . obvious.

Navin shakes his head, filling the already dank room with misted sweat. A gun appears at my temple before I even know his hand has moved. The barrel eats so hard at my skin, my head battles to stay upright. Yet beyond the distance between us, or the weapon cutting into my skull, the corruption in his eyes tells me of the child he’d once been, the false and misguided intentions turning to hate of Ephemes instead of a solution for the many.

“It doesn’t have to be this way,” I say quietly, my heart a steady beat. He doesn’t say anything, yet there is a flicker in his brow that tells me more. “You were good once.”

“Remy, I’m good still. I just want what everyone else wants. Every day we live in shackles.”

“We can change that, but not like this. Not like this.”

“Even after death, you’re still the same. Lyneva was right about you.”

Then as visceral as blinking, I use his breath and his eyes to dig deeper and before I can understand what I have done, his mania instantly overwhelms me. Somehow, I’m reading him. Wait, is this what it is to Trace someone else? Navin’s soul is troubled; his ability to discern truth is almost impossible.

“It’s so hollow . . . so empty. You’ve told yourself so many lies, for so long, that you believe them.”

He presses the gun harder until I groan and my neck strains. Navin shakes his head with confusion.

“What are you doing?” he growls.

“Getting in,” I whisper.

He looks around in strategy or panic, I’m not sure. Finally, he turns to Ian’s lifeless and bloody body—looking more corpse than human. Something must flicker in my eyes, which is my biggest mistake. My weakness. He flies to Ian and presses the gun into his mouth. There is no need to perfectly place the weapon, Ephemes will die with nearly any shot to the brain. For the first time Ian’s eyes half open, revealing how little fight he has left.

“Navin,” I say quietly.

“He’s dead, Willow!” he yells. A white knuckled finger trembles against the trigger as I watch the ashy color of rage paint Navin’s skin.

“Navin!” I yell. “Don’t!” I can feel the Void leaving me, and the loss of freedom.

The look on his face tells me how aware he is of this and how ready he is to get what he wants.

I close my eyes, remembering the woman with my face, the woman reminding me who I am. Like an entity, the Awakening returns, my hands relaxing again.

“Navin,” I whisper.

Navin looks up but just as he does, Ian comes to life, kicking Navin’s leg out and sweeping his feet from under him. Ian grabs the gun and shoots Navin till there are no bullets left. He doesn’t know how to kill Navin and I have no time to tell him before the gun is empty. Ian groans and cries out as he stands to his feet. Navin twitches, but I know it will take some time before he returns.

“Willow,” Ian’s voice is hoarse, and his face doesn’t look the same. He hobbles to me, his legs barely working.

“Undo this, Ian. Hurry!”

His body is so weak, he struggles to even lift his arms to release mine. I didn’t expect how hard it would be to see him like this. “I’m sorry, Ian.”

He stops for a moment, resting his forehead on his own bicep. “It’s okay,” his barely audible voice breaks.

“We need to go,” I warn him.

Ian starts again, just as Navin’s body begins to flinch. The seconds pass slowly. Finally, my wrist moves within the strap and I pull it out with my other hand.

Navin tries to sit up.

“Come on!” I grab Ian’s hand and we run past Navin. He reaches out, barely missing Ian’s dragging foot, but grabs mine. I fall. Instantly Ian drops and pries Navin’s fingers open.

“Go!” Ian yells when I am free.

“Ian . . . let’s go!” Yet I can see that he can’t let go of Navin, or risk losing the upper hand.

“Go!” Ian says again. His body is weak beyond repair.

My muscles burn as I scramble away and the determination on Ian’s face builds. When I hesitate, he yells out again, “Go!” Without another second, I run to the hall. The crack of a gun stops me. Paralyzed. I have no time to save Ian, and I hear another gun shot. He has no chance. Do I turn back? The tears run down my face.

“Remy!” Navin yells from somewhere behind me, snapping me back into reality.

Through the halls and down a flight of stairs, my body fights fatigue. The halls lead off to a large main room where I can hear Navin’s men. From every angle, people are scrambling.

The kitchen is just to the left and I peer in. It is empty. Someone is tearing through the house not too far away. Any fear that I have Navin can feed on, so I breathe just as Geo taught me to do. There are only seconds.

A loud crash splinters the silence and forces me to jump, coming from somewhere beyond the kitchen door. My feet shift away from the sound and take flight toward the dining room.

“Remy!” he yells from somewhere and it instantly makes my head pound.

So, I run.

Dark halls are useful since I can hide within the shadows. I avoid the rooms at the end of these halls with men’s voices or the pattering of feet. This strange bohemian house is winding and confusing, yet somehow it makes sense that Navin and Japha chose a maze.

Yet, where am I going? I don’t even know where I am.

The hopelessness starts to set in. I peek in rooms. Some are filled with people and others empty. Mostly they provide me with nothing to protect myself. A resonating sound that seems to penetrate the walls is men on a mission. Navin has told them to find me. Nothing else can explain the constant yelling and pounding of feet on the tile floors, upstairs and below and around me in the winding cascades of this large house.

Unexpectedly, men pass by ahead and my back hits the wall so hard that my lumbar spine clashes with the chair rail. I slink into the darkness. The pounding of my heart in my ears is deafening.

About thirty feet in front of me is a room, and on the other side of it peeks a door. Just beside it is a large window where the sway of palm trees catches my eye. Freedom is just beyond.

With hesitant feet, I sneak through the blue framed doorway only to feel the nakedness of being in a bigger room. Had I lived here or been a cordial visitor I might have spent a moment admiring the large framed paintings, but for now, they are suffocating.