Page 78 of On Wings of Blood

“You’re letting me in too easily,” Rodriguez said. His voice sounded as if it was coming from far away. “You have to push back. Your mind is your own. Guard it with your life.”

“I thought Iwaspushing back,” I said through clenched teeth.

He sighed and I felt the mental pressure ease, disappearing as suddenly as it had begun. “Blocking someone from entering your mind isn't like swinging a sword or using brute force. It's about control. Subtle, precise control over your own thoughts. Think of it as the gradual building of a fortress. But this fortress can’t be made of rigid stone. It has to be adaptable, flexible. Eventually, it can become impenetrable.”

That was what I wanted. To become a fortress.

I frowned, curling my fingers in my lap. “But how? How do I even start?”

Rodriguez’s expression softened slightly as if he sensed my fear. “It’s going to take time. We’ll start with a tactic I first learned. It’s called mental partitioning. You’ll learn how to separate your mind into different layers, creating barriers between your surface thoughts–between the ones you’re okay with others seeing....”

I winced. There wasn’t really anything in my head I wanted a stranger to see.

He saw my expression and smiled slightly. “I know. But just think how much worse it could be if I were someone else.” He let the suggestion hang there.

I nodded firmly. “Right. I understand. I don’t want you to go easy on me.”

“That’s the spirit,” he said with a small smile. “Anyhow, mental partitioning. Creating a barrier between your thoughts. The ones you don’t mind revealing and the ones you need to keep hidden.” He shrugged. “We all have those, right? Eventually I might let you see what I had for breakfast, too, Miss Pendragon.”

He grinned and I smiled weakly.

I wasn’t sure what I’d been expecting, but I hadn’t anticipated it being this difficult. This... invasive. I could still feel the echo of Rodriguez’s presence in my mind, a reminder of how easily he'd been able to slip past my weak defenses.

My non-existent defenses.

My stomach churned. What if this wasn’t training? What if this was real? If it was someone trying to harm me or, worse, trying to force me to harm myself or someone else again? My mind flashed back to Regan, to how helpless and violated I’d felt.

A tremor of resentment flared through me. I knew Professor Rodriguez was doing this for my own good, but the potential he had to tear through my mind, to search for every vulnerable thought, left me feeling raw and exposed. I hated it. I hated how easily my weaknesses could be discovered, no matter how I tried to hide them.

Rodriguez had been waiting. When I nodded that I was ready to continue, he gestured for me to close my eyes.

“Imagine your mind as a space. An open field, let’s say. Now start constructing layers. These will be the partitions. The first layer should hold nothing of importance. Your recent thoughts, trivial memories. These are the decoys. Eventually, I’ll only sense what lays behind them if you want me to.”

I closed my eyes, trying to picture my mind the way he described it. It felt strange, unnatural. But as I focused, I began to form a mental wall. It was thin, like a piece of paper, hardly a wall at all. But it was a start.

“Good,” Rodriguez said. He was trying to be encouraging. “Now, I'm going to attempt to push past that first layer. When you feel me approaching, I want you to reinforce it. Don't just let me through.”

I tensed up. There it was again. Like a soft knock against the edge of my mind. His presence was there, probing, but not forceful. Not yet. It was a gentle push, like someone testing the strength of a door.

I flinched, instinctively wanting to pull away, but instead I focused on my wall, adding another piece of parchment, then another. I imagined it thickening, reinforcing it with iron bars, holding it firm.

“That's it,” Rodriguez said. “Keep building your wall. Feel the pressure. Don't let it crack.”

The pressure increased slightly, but the wall held. My heart was pounding but I also felt a small bloom of pride.

Rodriguez spoke again. “Good. We’ll stop there for today.” He paused. “I could push your wall down if I tried, but I’m not going to do that.”

My sense of pride plummeted. “Okay. Thank you...I guess?”

He nodded. “I’m not going to take it easy on you. But this is just the beginning. It takes time and practice. You’ll need to learn to disguise the partitions. After all, if someone senses a wall, they’ll know there’s something behind it you don’t want them to see.”

“So what do I do?” I asked, opening my eyes, and feeling frustrated once more.

“You need to appear ordinary. Your thoughts should seem like an open book–but only the pages you want someone to read. Everything else should be hidden, masked by false thoughts.” He paused, as if searching for the right words. “It’s about constructing a new reality. A new you. A believable one. You’ll need to practice disguising your true intentions. Sometimes, it’s not just about stopping someone from entering your mind but about making them think there’s nothing worth searching for in the first place.”

This was another level of thrallweave’s power I hadn't even considered before. Regan hadn’t been interested in my memories. She’d just wanted to control me. But if she’d gone searching? There was no way I’d have been able to stop her.

Right now, I was an open book.

---