I hate that I might be ruining my only opportunity to prove my theories about the humans being aware. But my confidence is rattled, and I’m worried I might inadvertently draw their attention. If my mask somehow lifted, would they know? Would they sound an alarm?

I need to get out of here before I lose my nerve completely and someone sees me for what I really am.

I hurry back up the stairs into the main palace halls, disoriented with the memory of so many humans trapped within their own minds. So many people I don’t have the ability to help.

I wipe my palms against my cloak and make my way down another corridor. When I reach the end of the hall, I realize I’ve made a wrong turn. I try to retrace my steps, but I feel like I’m lost in a maze of closed doors and eerie paintings, and the world around me is starting to spin.

Frustration burns through me, and so much sadness, too. If I choose to help Martin and the girl, does it mean I’m abandoning everyone else? Am I sealing their fate by not trying to save every single one of them?

It feels too big for me. But Death’s experiments have made the entire Colony more apprehensive than ever, and I haven’t even convinced them to save anyone yet. How could I possibly ask them to save everyone?

I have to draw a line, and I hate it. But I can’t help them all. I can’t ask the Colony to make such a sacrifice. There are humans still suffering in Famine and War, and they need our help too.

Saving two lives feels small. It feels doable. But the others?

Every life I try to save in Victory could be a life I’m sacrificing in another court.

A field of black sand and limbs flashes in my mind. Gil’s memory. And somewhere in the graveyard is his arm.

How many pieces of him were spilt on that battlefield? How many were left for the Legion Guards to pick at like crows?

How many times did he have to die before he found a way to escape?

I need to get ahold of myself. If Gil could make it out of War without letting the darkness consume him, I can fight this, too.

I pause in one of the halls, take a breath, and move for the nearest corridor.

I find myself in a large glass room that bursts with the aroma of gardenias and orange blossoms. But while the scents are familiar, the plants are like nothing I’ve ever seen before.

Silver branches blossom with deep violet flowers, white bushes overflow with golden berries, and miniature trees twist and contort into curious shapes. Each flower is more vibrant than the last, their colors richer and their smells intoxicating.