Page 57 of Ashes to Ashes

“Whatever I’m becoming,” I tell the forest, “I need time to understand it.”

The air warms slightly—approval or encouragement, I can’t tell.

Each step feels like betrayal of promises made—dinner with Orion, archives with Finnian, exploring whatever’s awakening inside me.

But maybe this is how I protect them. By keeping Graves at bay long enough to understand what they’re telling me about bloodlines and treasures.

Maybe this is the only way to keep that dinner date. The only way to see Finnian’s secrets.

The patterns pulse beneath my sleeve, and for a moment, I swear I feel someone else’s heartbeat echoing mine. Not human. Something wilder, older. Something that’s been waiting for me to stop running from what I really am.

“I’ll figure this out,” I promise the darkness. “I’ll keep them safe while I learn the truth.”

The presence in the shadows seems to approve, though it remains hidden. Waiting to see what I’ll choose when the real moment comes.

The pendant turns brutally cold as I near the boundary. Ice spreads from where metal touches skin, frost crystallizing across my collarbone in intricate patterns that look disturbingly familiar.

I stumble as pain flares down my chest, a rejection so violent I can’t drag air into my lungs. Three more steps and frost forms on my eyelashes, my vision blurring as tears freeze before they can fall. My throat feels squeezed by invisible hands, windpipe closing like someone’s tightening a noose.

The pendant doesn’t want me crossing the boundary. Or more accurately, it doesn’t want whatever’s inside me reaching the other side. Or leaving. I can’t be sure which it is.

I stop twenty yards from where Academy magic transitions to the human realm.

“What are you really suppressing?” I grip the chain until it cuts into my palm. “Because this isn’t protection—it’s control. You’ve been keeping me docile, haven’t you? Good little weapon, never asking the right questions.” The pendant burns colder in response, ice spreading across my chest in denial. “That’s what I thought.”

Options narrow. Past the boundary, technology works.

I can contact Graves, prevent extraction. But the pendant’s resistance promises consequences I can’t predict. What happens if I cross wearing it? What happens if I remove it?

I think of Orion’s dinner invitation. Finnian’s promise to show me the archives. The way Kieran said my name like it was something precious and dangerous.

I make my decision.

I reach for the chain around my neck, unclasping it with fingers gone numb and clumsy from cold. The moment the pendant breaks contact with my skin, the world explodes.

Colors sharpen—not just darkness but a dozen shades of night between trees, rich purples and midnight blues where before there was only black. Night creatures’ heartbeats become audible—quick fluttering birds, slower pulses of larger animals watching from hiding. Scents separate into information—age of trees, who passed hours ago, weather changes days away. The patterns beneath my sleeve glow green-gold through fabric, spreading past my shoulder, across my collarbone, down my other arm like living vines seeking light.

My organs rearrange themselves again, finding configurations that can process this influx of sensation. My lungs expand, pulling in air so rich with information it makes me dizzy. My heart pounds with a rhythm that feels older than human, syncing to pulses in the earth beneath my feet.

I step forward with new certainty as the boundary approaches. The transition ripples through me before I physically cross—like moving from deep water to surface tension, pressure changing against every inch of skin.

Then I’m through, everything suddenly flatter, quieter, less. The vibrant pulse of Academy realms replaced by mundane reality that feels hollow and dead by comparison. Like stepping from a symphony into silence.

My satphone powers on, screen harsh and crude compared to the living light I’ve grown used to. I hold it reluctantly, suddenly aware how quickly I’ve adapted to a world without technology. How natural the Academy’s magic feels compared to circuits and code.

I compose my message carefully, selecting words that tell enough while hiding complications.

My fingers hover over the screen, each word feeling like a knife between ribs:

VERIFIED PRESENCE OF ARTIFACTS WITHIN ACADEMY GROUNDS. ACCESSING RESTRICTED INFORMATION THROUGH FACULTY CONNECTIONS. SPEAR LOCATION CONFIRMED. CROWN WITHIN ACADEMY PROTECTION. REQUIRE ADDITIONAL TIME FOR COMPLETE INTELLIGENCE GATHERING.

“Forgive me,” I whisper to the darkness as I hit send. “For all of it.”

The progress bar crawls across the screen. Part of me hopes it fails. That connection stays broken. That I can return without reestablishing contact.

Guilt hits hard, twisting in my gut like a blade between ribs. Years of following Graves without question, and now I hesitate? Twenty-five years of conditioning screaming that I’m betraying everything I’ve been trained to be.

The response arrives fast—thirty seconds after transmission.

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