I’ve seen the inside of Elite Cain’s office more times in the last month than I have since I took my oath to become a shadow knight-in-training at twelve. The marble from the wall presses into my skin, and my arms sting where Lily’s nails pierced it.

I am in so much trouble.

We all are—me, Natalie, Jacobi, and he’s not even conscious.

An innocent kid died tonight, and Lily’s corpse was reanimated with her soul—a soul that was subsequently shattered. Anora was trying to help, but her ignorance about her powers means Lily is tethered to this world in pieces, pieces that can never be reclaimed. Someone’s going to have to tell Lily’s father. How many people in the world have to experience the death of their daughter twice? My chest hurts.

I sag against the cold marble. It’s an awkward angle, but I don’t care, because it’s the only thing I feel at the moment, and it’s the only thing grounding me to this spot.

Beside me, Natalie leans forward, elbows on her knees. Her eyes glisten. I haven’t seen her cry often, but tonight did us all in. There are things we’ve seen on our patrols—monsters and soul stealing and dead bodies—but never the horror of this night, and we weren’t trained enough to handle any of it. We fumbled about like idiots trying to take down a resurrected Valryn. Lily had the memory of her training from her time as a knight-in-training but she had none of the humanity.

Jacobi was taken to the infirmary barely breathing. He looked dead.

Please, Charon, don’t take another one of my friends.

Elite Cain bangs into his office, throwing open the doors. Natalie and I get to our feet and salute.

“Probation!” he yells. “All of you, including the unconscious one! Probation until I say otherwise, and I’ll tell you it isn’t looking like you’ll get off in the next year.”

I try not to flinch. I’ve never seen Elite Cain angry.

“What the hell were you all thinking? As soon as you saw the situation, you should have alerted your superiors. None of you were equipped to handle this. Now we have a dead kid, and I have to tell Commander Martin his daughter will never know Spirit. Careless!”

We keep our heads bowed, feeling lower than low. Worse, we both know he’s right.

God, my chest hurts. It’s like it’s split in two—one side pounds with anxiety, the other with fear.

“Who wants to tell me what happened first?” Cain asks, but it’s not a question; it’s a demand.

It’s not often I’m unable to speak, but I’m ashamed and afraid. I keep my jaw pressed tight so my chin doesn’t tremble.