Everyone still believes my mind hasn’t gravitated toward an ability, and I can’t tell them the truth about seeing Ophelia. I can’t ask what it means, or if it’s ever happened to anyone else before. Because they’ll want to know when it happened. How it happened. And why it took me so long to tell them.

When Gil thought I was defending the enemy, he was practically ready to drive me to War himself. What would the others say if they knew a part of me actually missed Ophelia?

I can’t jeopardize their trust when they’re the only ones providing sanctuary from the Residents.

Not to mention my mind is a proven vulnerability. Staying safe is no longer just a matter of remaining within these walls. If I don’t figure out a way to strengthen my consciousness, I might end up making another mistake. And I can’t take that risk—especially not when it involves the queen.

But my mind fails me, again and again. I can’t move feathers, or create fire, or veil as much as a crumb.

I think the others have finally realized what I’ve always known—that refusing the pill doesn’t make me a Hero. That the Residents will never have a reason to fear me. And that when the day comes and the Colony is ready to go to war, I won’t be the one charging for the front lines; I’ll be hiding behind them.

The hologram of Victory shifts between districts. I sweep my palm over the image, and the map spins until I’m looking at a tower of glass and stone, surrounded by pure white snow.

I’ve been studying the maps for days, trying to make sense of Infinity. Ahmet says the hologram works like a computer, but I think he’s just trying to simplify it. Because it’s more complex than typing in commands and waiting for a response. Using the hologram requires instinct and feelings. To control it, I have to let myself become a part of it.

It requires more trust than I think I’m ready to give.

I close my eyes. Is that why this is so hard for me? Because I’m still fighting death instead of embracing it?

I don’t want to be the weakest person here. But I also don’t know how to embrace something that I never wanted in the first place.

Stop being so selfish, my mind hisses. You aren’t the only person in Infinity who wasn’t ready to die.

With a growl of frustration, I throw my hand against the hologram, causing the pixels to vanish. I blink, gaze settling on the other end of the table, and find Gil.

“I—I didn’t know anyone was there,” I say, flustered.