“Got it in one, Six-Eight-Four.”

Rubbing my forehead, I murmur, “You can stop calling me that, too.”

“Would you prefer I call you Chip?”

I don’t respond to his taunt. Instead, I say, “Is that what went wrong today? Why we couldn’t free you? Kael said he wasn’t strong enough to destroy your protective ability, but … did he actually manage that, and it was really me who was too weak to combat Vanik’s new Creator ability?” My face crinkles as I consider it further. “That doesn’t make sense, though. Vanik hasn’t had any training as a Creator—he was a mind reader before he lost his Speaking power. For him to be so competent after ten years of nothing …”

“My master may have only recently reawakened his power, but he was Speaking before you were born. His control is unparalleled, Six-Eight-Four, while you’ve barely begun to understand the scope of all that you can do.” He gives a condescending smile. “Pity you’ll never get the chance to reach his level of competence.”

He’s trying to provoke me, but it doesn’t work. I’m numb to his words, numb to the knowledge of what I’m facing. And then there’s the realization that if it’s not Manning who’s controlling Ward, if it’s Vanik and his new Creator power, how will Ward ever be free of his commands? Will Kael’s theories about time and distance still hold true when it’s a Creator ability in question? I don’t know—I don’t know anything.

“You look so sad, Six-Eight-Four,” Ward observes. “He’s hurting for you.”

I sigh, certain this is another attempt to bait me. “Who is?”

“I am. He is. Your Ward.”

My body tenses.

“He’s in here, you know. He’s me, after all, as much as I am him.” An amused smirk. “He hates that he injected you with the serum. He hates seeing you so distressed, so hopeless. He wants to remind you of how strong you are, that you don’t need to be able to Speak for your words to be powerful. He hears you, even in your silence.” Ward stops and blinks as if startled, before a dark chuckle leaves him. “Oh—that’s interesting. He shouldn’t have been able to say that. He’s fighting now. Fighting our master’s command. But he won’t win, not without help.”

I’m trembling as I sit here. It’s surreal, hearing this puppet-Ward talking about himself, about the real him, trapped in his own mind. It’s almost like he’s possessed—no, that’s exactly what it’s like.