“Sure.”
“As you may have observed, the men here can be…emotional at times,” he says, tone slightly sardonic. “They allow baser instincts to override their better judgment, especially in close quarters like these.”
That’s putting it mildly. From what I’ve witnessed, men are constantly posturing, challenging each other, picking fights over nothing.
“I’d like you to use your ability to help defuse situations when tempers flare.” I adjust my stance, interested. “Not only would it prevent unnecessary injuries, but it would give youvaluable practice with your power. I’m curious to see how far you can develop it.”
I blink behind the shadows of my mask, nonplussed. This is the last thing I expected. He’s so impressed by my abilities that he wants me to help maintain order? I’d essentially be acting as a covert peacekeeper.
“You want me to use my power…officially?” It’s impossible to keep the surprise from my tone.
“Not officially,” he corrects, gesturing to the space separating us. “Between us. Your intervention should be subtle enough that others won’t realize what you’re doing.”
I’m not upset at the request. In fact, an unexpected swell of pride that he values my abilities enough to suggest this rises. His praise feels genuine, not manipulative.
“I can do that.”
Satisfied with my easy agreement, he twists the knob on the door and walks inside. “Come in, there’s something I want to show you.”
I follow him into the room, pausing just inside the threshold. The space is a smaller version of the training simulator from earlier—bare walls, minimal lighting, stale air. Elias walks to a wall panel and presses a square tile that’s a lighter shade of gray than the others.
The tile flips open to reveal a control panel with a display screen and several buttons. His fingers move across it with practiced ease.
“Sometimes I find this place overwhelming.” He doesn’t look at me, but I understand his words fine. “Too many people, too many emotions, too much everything. This room helps me when I need to get away.”
Before I can ask what he means, the space transforms. Bare walls fade away, replaced by a vast expanse of water stretching to the horizon. The floor beneath my bootsshifts, becoming soft, yielding sand. Waves lap gently at my ankles, and I swear the water’s cool touch wades through my boots. My breath catches. The simulation is incredibly realistic, far more immersive than the training scenarios. Waves thud with rhythmic crashes and birds cry in the distance. A sea breeze carries the scent of salt and something rich, organic—seaweed, perhaps. The warmth of sunlight falls across my shoulders.
It’s beautiful.
More than any image I’ve seen in books or my own head. The water stretches endlessly, meeting a sky so vibrantly blue it makes my chest ache. The colors are more brilliant than anything I’ve experienced—deep azure water topped with white-capped waves, golden sand, and distant green cliffs.
“What do you think?” Elias asks, his voice cutting through my awe.
I whirl to answer and freeze, stunned by the sight of him standing there with his mask removed. His features glow in warm golden light, revealing a face far younger than I expected. His eyes are a clear hazel-green, set above high cheekbones and a straight nose. His mouth—curved in a slight smile—has a full lower lip that pairs well with the soft lines of his jaw.
“Put that back on!” I hiss, glancing frantically around for possible observers. “Someone could see you!”
His smile widens, revealing a flash of white teeth and a tiny dimple in his left cheek. Something strange and fluttery happens in my stomach at the sight.
“There are no scanners or cameras in this room.” His voice is lighter, more relaxed without the mask. “That’s why I come here. To breathe freely for a while.”
I want to ask what he means by scanners, but his casual reference suggests it’s something I should already know about. I keep my questions to myself, turning back to the simulated ocean to hide my confusion and desperation to stare.
“You can remove yours too, if you’d like,” he offers. “No one will see.”
“I-I’d rather not,” I stammer, shifting in my stance. “In case someone walks in.”
He doesn’t press the issue, which I appreciate. Instead, he reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small device that resembles a flattened cylinder with a display screen.
“This is keyed to the room’s controls,” he explains, holding it out to me. “You can change the scenery, adjust environmental factors, even add or remove elements.”
I grab the remote, our fingers brushing briefly in the exchange. An electric tingle travels through my arm at the contact, surprising me.
Stars, I never realized how much I needed my parents’ hugs until now. I’m starved for any kind of connection.
“The simulation can engage all five senses,” he continues, oblivious to my reaction. “You can adjust them individually. For instance, if you wanted stronger wind…” He leans in, sliding his finger across a portion of the screen. Immediately, the breeze intensifies, gusting into my mask with enough force that I raise a hand to protect my eyes. The sensation is extraordinary—I can feel the pressure, the temperature, even tiny droplets of sea spray.
A startled laugh escapes me, echoed by Elias’ deeper chuckle. For a moment, we’re just two people sharing a marvel, all hierarchy and suspicion temporarily suspended.
