Good.
Outside.
Air. Night. Stars.
There's blood on my hands, under my fingernails. Some of it is mine. Most of it isn't.
I don't stop.
The pull fades to a hum as I get further from the cells. Quieter now, but still there. Waiting.
Elyra's spine digs into my palm. I grip it tighter.
"I'll figure it out," I tell her. "I'll find whatever this is. And then—"
My tongue is still bleeding. The wound throbs when I swallow. I should deal with that.
Later.
I run. Fifty-three steps before I lose count.
The village is already dead when I leave it.
Smoke. Bodies. My work. They saw me pass through, and I can't leave witnesses. Simple math. The pull is still humming north, faint but persistent, and I need to keep moving before the gods realize I'm out.
I'm walking through what's left when I see him.
A child sitting in the rubble.
I stop walking.
He's small. Ten, maybe. Covered in ash and someone else's blood. There are four bodies around him—two adult, two smaller. Family. His family. He's not crying. Not screaming. Just sitting there with his knees pulled up, watching me approach with eyes that have already seen too much.
I know that look. I've worn that look.
"You're one of them," he says. His voice is flat. "The Titans."
"Yes."
"Are you going to kill me too?"
I consider it. Quick. Easy. Merciful, even. He's seen my face. He could identify me later. The smart thing would be to—
The pull hums. Faint. Insistent.
I crouch down. Put myself at his level. His thread is bright, undamaged, which means he hasn't started lying to himself yet. Unusual. Most people start the rot young.
"Do you want to live?"
He thinks about it. Actually thinks, not the reflexive yes most people give. His eyes move across the bodies. His mother. His father. The two smaller ones—siblings.
"If it's not too inconvenient," he says.
I laugh.
It comes out wrong—cracked, sharp, the kind of sound that makes people flinch. He doesn't flinch. Just watches me with those flat eyes, waiting to see what I'll do.
"What's your name?"
