“Gil hates me,” I correct.

Her smile fades. “War changed him. It changes us all, I suppose. But that court…” She brings her mug to her lips. “Some things we just don’t heal properly from. And it’s not an excuse—it’s just the truth.”

“It doesn’t matter. I didn’t come here to talk about Gil.”

“I guessed as much,” she replies, and sets her mug on the metal end table. “Why don’t you tell me what’s on your mind?”

“What you’re asking me to do… To be a spy…” I look at my hands. “I’m not ready for it.”

“You look the part,” she notes. “But you don’t feel the part.”

“You want information. But I don’t even have all the information.” The urgency burns my throat. “How can I pretend to be a Resident when I barely know anything about them?” How can I agree to help destroy something without knowing for sure there isn’t another way?

“I was waiting for you to come to me—to ask about Infinity. Because it can be quite overwhelming to take in,” she says, her voice like a warning. “Are you sure you’re ready?”

“You’re asking me to play a part in this fight, but I can’t do it in darkness. I need to know everything,” I say, and my heart feels like it’s stepping out of the shadows. “I need to understand this world.”

She nods, voice gentle. “Give me your hands.”

I hesitate, setting my tea down next to me. I bring my hands closer to her, and she places them in her palms.

“This might feel a little funny at first, but it’s the fastest way to share knowledge,” she says. “It’s called an Exchange.”

I frown. “Ahmet said the hologram works like a computer. He said I could find anything I want on it.”

“Yes, but you’d need to know what you’re looking for first.” Annika motions to our joined hands. “Let me show you.”

Before I can say another word, her eyes flash white and the room dissolves.

I blink, and I’m no longer sitting in Annika’s room. I’m in a field of gray, with a heavy mist blocking the landscape. There’s no life here—just rock and ash and death.

My footsteps feel heavy, as if I’m not in control of my body. When I look at my hands, I realize it’s because I’m not—I’m in Annika’s memories.

A scream pierces through the air, like a banshee taking flight. I struggle to see through the fog, but I know I’m looking for something. Someone.

And then I see her, huddled low and dark as a shadow. I make out the figure of a girl.

Shura.