“I didn’t know he would…Oh my god…” My voice is fast, and even in the cold night air, I’m burning up. “I didn’t mean to…He almost killed you, Ash. I mean, if he’d used a knife instead of a punch…” I stare at the man’s unmoving face, instantly reminded of all the dead bodies in my dream. “I did this. I killed him. I can’t believe I killed him.” I repeat it because it hasn’t fully sunk in, because it’s all too awful to be true.

Ash walks right up to me and puts his hands on my shoulders, turning me away from the body. “Look at me, just at me,” he says insistently, moving me until the dead man is out of sight. Even in the moonlight I can make out the intensity of Ash’s eyes.

Guilt ripples through me. How could I have done this? I’m not a killer…I’m not.

“You need to focus, November,” Ash says in a demanding voice. “You need to get the message from your dad. Whatever you’re feeling right now will pass; but if you let it consume you, you won’t be able to think. You’re the only one who can retrieve that message.”

I nod at him and break eye contact. It takes every ounce of my determination not to cry. I almost got Ash killed. I killed someone. And I broke my promise to Layla. This isn’t the Academy; there aren’t teachers and guards, curated challenges and structure. This is real, and it’s deadly.

“Go,” he says, and I do. I jog about fifty feet, focusing all my energy on locating and climbing up the right tree, scrutinizing each detail more than necessary, and trying to push away the image of the blood I fear will be with me forever.

About fifteen feet up, the trunk splits into two parts. I brush aside the leaves in the crevice created by the split and wiggle out a loose piece of bark. Underneath it, exactly where I stashed it four years ago, is a worn square tin a little smaller than my palm. I pull it out of the trunk and pry the top off. Folded inside is a baggie with a piece of paper in it that wasn’t part of my original time capsule. Dad. I close the tin again and press it to my heart, relieved that I was right and that he didn’t disappear without leaving me a message.

“November?” Ash says from under the tree I’m in.

“It’s here,” I say, and climb down to the ground.

He spots the small tin in my hand. “And your father—”

“There’s a new note inside,” I say in a hushed voice.