Ruin is right, and Jericho is full of shit. She’s been chosen for her path and made extraordinary by the gifts of the Forge. Whether or not her instincts, that ability to read people—which is not telepathy, that’s nonsense—are born-with or Forge-given matters not. The important thing is that it makes her perfect for her role. She sees the hearts of people. She knows how to guide them. She stands on the cusp of greatness and will guide the Faithful into the blessed star fields of tomorrow.

Fucking Jericho thought he could bust something in her mental architecture, make her distrust herself. But the one thing—the only fucking thing—she’s ever been sure of is her trust in herself. All her life she’s been her only ally. Jericho thought he could use her insights against her, turning her uncanny ability to read other people’s cues into something sinister. He thought that with one revelation he could upend her understanding of herself, the world, and her place in it. Wrong. Wrong. She will prove him wrong. Just you wait. Just you see.

INTERLUDE 8

How fickle the human psyche can be, how quick to react when it is injured. Love turns to hate with the spin of a wheel, and the tincture of events changes from blue to red in hindsight. It’s uncomfortable, is it not, to watch something dearly familiar change shape and form into something you can no longer claim to know? Is it not true, however, that the beauty of the human condition is its unconditional capacity for change? It is fascinating to watch, at least. Perhaps what is mourned is your loss of right to claim ownership of something so changed.