I had thought I was doing so well. I’ve Spoken so much tonight, tested myself in ways I’ve never done before. And for the most part, aside from a few mistakes, everything has gone as I’ve intended.

But this …

I push aside my shame and force myself to move when I see the shadowed outline of the boy on the far side of the room, rising up from his own protective crouch.

“Wait!” I cry as he rushes off again. But this time, I don’t just say the word—I infuse it with power, the light of my command reaching him and freezing him to the spot.

For all of a single second.

Because that’s when Ward bursts in through the exit door— which is right in front of the breakout teen. He takes one look at the situation before lunging forward and grabbing the boy, taking advantage of the teen’s paralyzed state to drag him away without a struggle.

“No!” I yell, running forward, ignoring the renewed ache in my thigh, and the throbbing from the rest of the minor cuts and scratches now littering my body. “Stop!”

Ward is protecting himself from my words, keeping them from having any effect. But I haven’t gone through all this tonight only to fail. I refuse to let him take the boy without a fight. Especially when I lunge out from the darkness of the mirror maze and into the lit gymnasium room again only to catch sight of the breakout Speaker’s face for the first time.

He’s older than he should be, perhaps a year or two older than me. Too old to be a new breakout Speaker, since from what I’ve been told, our abilities manifest during the onset of puberty. I wonder how long he’s been in hiding, how long he’s been alone, or if he’s just a late bloomer. But I don’t waste time wondering for long, because my gaze lands on his bright blue eyes as they lock with mine.

He looks terrified.

No, it’s more than that.

He looks like he’s seen a ghost.

While his limbs might be suffering from the effects of my command, his mouth still works, since I didn’t think to paralyze anything other than his limbs. Until his eyes caught mine, he was swearing at Ward and demanding to be released. But now … his words die off as I hobble-sprint after him, like the very sight of me has him choking on them.

“Lyss?”

The sound that leaves his lips is so full of emotion that I miss a step, utter a hiss of pain, and have to stagger to keep upright. Ward is fast, even while dragging the unresisting teen, his speed only increasing when Crew appears out of nowhere to help him carry the weight between them. I keep throwing commands at them—“Stop! Don’t move! Wait!”—but aside from Ward blocking every word, neither he nor Crew seem to care that I’m giving chase. Their focus is solely on the breakout.