“The serum,” I breathe. “Once you isolated my Speaker gene and could replicate it into your Creator serum, that—that man knew you could do it with other Speakers and their abilities. He kept my dad in this state, kept his cells alive so that when you’d perfected your process, he could act. He’s waited years for this.”

Vanik nods solemnly. “I wanted a better world for Speakers, Six-Eight-Four. A world run by me, by them, by us. That’s all I ever wanted. But he wants the opposite.” He waves a hand around the lab. “It took me three days to come up with the Creator prototype after you fled, but once it was done and Landon abducted me, I was forced to spend the last five days mass-producing a serum using Christopher’s cells. A serum that our captor plans to use on Speakers—all Speakers. A serum that, when injected, will take away their abilities. Forever.”

I’m staring down at my dad. Staring at him and trying to keep the tears from falling. I thought I’d never see him again. But now … Now he’s lying here before me. Hooked up to a machine that is keeping his cells alive just enough to be useful in a sick experiment. He’s gone. He’s been gone for years. But this …

Only a monster would do something like this.

“I thought my declaration would prompt more of a reaction.”

I turn to Vanik. From the corner of my eye, I see Ward still watching me closely, silently. Just waiting to make sure I don’t try to escape.

“I already know about the serum,” I respond hoarsely to Vanik. Then, to prove my words true, I hold out my hand and say, “Light.”

I’m no longer surprised when nothing happens.

Vanik, however … His sunken eyes flick between me and Ward. “Is he—”

“No,” I say. “He’s not using his ability. He doesn’t need to.”

The scientist sucks in a breath as realization hits him. “You were injected.”

I nod mutely. “Yesterday. It’s been more than twenty-four hours.”

I don’t need to say more. Ever since running from the catacombs, I’ve been hoping and praying that there might be just a single flicker of power still inside me, one more chance to Speak. Just one word, that’s all I need. But I know the truth. I can feel it now: the gaping hole where something precious once was but is no more. It’s not like earlier today, it’s not another false alarm. I don’t need to try Speaking again to know that I won’t be able to.

My power is gone.