“What do you mean by ‘originally’?”

She hesitated. “Some people died. Some people were taken from the fort before completing their studies, because they were needed elsewhere.”

“How many completed the course of study with you?”

“Nine.”

“I saw a large dark-skinned woman who wears chain mail and carries a hammer.”

“Carolina. She’s ranked eighth.”

She didn’t seem worried.

“There was also a man with a patched trench coat.”

“Razer.” She paused. “Ranked first.”

“Tell me about them.”

“Carolina is powerful but not as fast as me. Her magic produces a telekinetic push that’s devastating at a range of up to five meters. A quicker fighter or a ranged opponent can take her out. She’s best in a team of two or more, where someone can watch her back.”

“And Razer?”

“Razer is faster, stronger, and more precise than me. His magic is more powerful than mine. He kills his opponents and sometimes he eats their flesh.”

“Is Razer fae?”

She nodded.

That’s what I thought. There had been reports of children born to seemingly normal parents with facial features and abilities consistent with those of the fae as described in legends. Mostly in urban areas up north, ones with a large concentration of Irish immigrants, such as Boston and Weymouth. By the last census, six percent of Atlanta’s population had claimed Irish ancestry. I knew this because the Pack had detailed maps of the city and at one point I was asked to help tag them by the mythology of their culture. In the post-Shift world, where you were from mattered because the myths and legends of your homeland followed you.

Nobody knew exactly what the fae were capable of. Some called them elves, some called them fairies, the fair folk, or Tuatha Dé Danann, but everyone agreed that they were bad news.

“What are his powers?”

“I don’t know,” she said. “I only fought against him twice. He didn’t use magic to win.”

That meant he won on speed, strength, and skill and she had more than a normal human’s dose of all three. Razer would be fun.

“Are there any other fae among the sahanu?”

“Yes.”

“Among the nine?”

“Irene is fae,” Adora said. “I think.”

“What are her powers?”

“I don’t know.” Her mouth quivered. She didn’t want to disappoint me and she must’ve been worried about my disapproval. She was under enough stress already from everything I had put her through. I had to move on.

“Thank you. When you feel better, I’d like you to write down everything that you think is relevant or useful about the other sahanu of your generation. Is there an age category older than yours?”

“No,” she shook her head. “We are the first generation. There are younger generations.”

Ugh. “How old are you, Adora?”

“Twenty-four.”