I turn around and hurl the wrench at Five.

I’m not sure my throw has the accuracy or the distance, so I give it a boost with my telekinesis. Five must see it coming, but he doesn’t try to move out of the way. That’s what makes me start to regret my decision—his resignation and willingness to receive this punishment.

The wrench hits Five right in the sternum but without much force. Even so, it sticks to his chest like it’s magnetized. He sucks in a sharp breath, his bored look failing him as he claws at the wrench. That only lasts for a second, though, until the glow briefly intensifies and Five plummets out of the air.

Five’s landing is ugly; his legs crumple beneath him, his hands fail to brace the impact and his shoulder cracks against the floor. He ends up lying on his face, breathing hard. He tries to pick himself up, but his arm isn’t quite working right, and he only manages to push himself an inch off the floor before sagging back down. The wrench falls from his chest, the damage done, his Legacies canceled. Setrákus Ra pats me approvingly on the back. That’s when I really start to feel some guilt, seeing Five like that, even knowing what he did to Eight. It occurs to me that maybe he’s just as much a prisoner as I am.

“Get yourself to the infirmary,” Setrákus Ra orders Five. “I do not care what you do about your eye, but I need you able-bodied when we descend to Earth.”

“Yes, Beloved Leader,” Five croaks, straining his neck to look up at us.

“That was well done,” Setrákus Ra says to me as he shepherds me towards the exit. “Come. We will return to your studies of the Great Book.”

Even though I’m still furious about what he did to Eight, as we pass Five’s prone body, I reach out to him telepathically. I refuse to lose my sense of right and wrong while I’m stuck here.

I’m sorry, I tell him.

I don’t think he’ll answer, considering how he could barely even look at me before. Just as I’m about to cut off our telepathic link, his response comes.

I’m fine, he replies. I deserved it.

You deserve worse than that, I reply, although I can’t quite manage the malice I want. It’s hard while I’m mentally picturing Eight, laughing, joking around with me and Marina.

I know, Five responds. I didn’t—I’m sorry, Ella.

I pick up something else from his mind. That’s never happened before—maybe my Legacy is getting stronger. I don’t think too much about it, because through my mind’s eye I’m seeing Eight’s body, left behind on purpose in an empty hangar. I try to make sense of the image, but Five’s thoughts are a confused jumble. There are so many conflicting impulses in his brain, and I’m not a skilled enough telepath to make sense of them all.

I’ve already walked past him, but after our telepathic conversation, I hazard a glance over my shoulder. Five has managed to prop himself up. He works a metal ball bearing across his knuckles, over and under, waiting for his Legacies to return. He looks right at me.