“Tell us what happened,” she orders and it’s clearly not a request.
So I do.
I explain Rverre’s behavior, the way it’s been building for a while and specifically what I saw before she ran. The way her agitation built the longer she stayed confined. I describe what I see as overload and how the sensory pressure of the camp adds to the problem. And the way movement soothed her where restraint failed.
“She wasn’t trying to leave us,” I say finally. “She was responding to the land. And keeping her here like this is making it worse.”
Elmer exhales sharply. “Or she’s dangerous.”
Jolie’s eyes narrow sharply. She grits her teeth so hard I hear them grind. Calista and Amara put their hands on her and I’m not sure if it’s to hold her in place or soothe her.
“She’s a child,” Jolie says, voice steady and sharp as a blade. “And she’s not your excuse.”
“Enough.” Rosalind says, lifting a hand to stop it before it can escalate further. She returns her attention to me. “You’re certain this will continue?”
“Yes,” I say, though I’m anything but sure. I hesitate before continuing but if I don’t tell them then they’ll find out anyway. “I do believe so. She’s… not the only one.”
“Who else?” Rosalind asks.
“Zoe,” I say. “She’s… talked about the City that will be. She hasn’t been… drawn… not like Rverre. But… it is similar.”
Zoe’s name lands differently, as if adding her name brings a new weight to Rverre’s actions. Zoe has been known for her strange pronouncements that almost always come to pass. She may be younger than Rverre but her connection to Tajss is every bit as undeniable.
Drosdan’s head lifts slightly, eyes narrowing as if something old has just been nudged awake. Annabel glances toward Sabrina, who gives a slow, uneasy nod. Even Elmer looks unsettled, his certainty cracking just enough to let doubt seep in.
“Explain,” Rosalind says, clearly not unaware of what is happening around her but not giving it credence either.
“She says things,” I continue carefully. “Not predictions. Not exactly. More like… observations that don’t make sense until later.”
Padraig sighs heavily. He’s huge, even by Zmaj standards, and his heavy exhale feels like it fills the tent. As if the fabric should lift and flap in reaction.
“Tajss speaks in many voices,” he rumbles, his voice so deep it rattles in my bones. “Not all of them shout.”
“And this child hears her?” the Urr’ki Queen asks, tilting her head.
“Yes,” I say, “I believe they both do. All of the… children… are connected to Tajss in ways we do not understand. Those born here, even the non-hybrids, they’re… part of it.”
Rosalind’s fingers tap against the table. A thinking sound.
“So we are not discussing a single child in distress,” she says. “We are discussing a pattern.”
Elmer scoffs, but the edge is gone. “Or we’re projecting meaning onto frightened kids.”
Amara steps forward, looking at each of those seated in turn.
“Frightened? You think they are afraid? Rverre was running into the desert. Alone. Empty handed. Following the guidance of whatever is inside of her. Where i=n that do you see fear Elmer?”
That silences him. Padraig leans over the table, placing two massive hands, each of them as big as my head.
“How many?” he asks.
“Enough,” I say honestly. “Not all of them, at least not in the same way, but enough that I can’t dismiss it.”
“And you believe this… City that will be is the connection?” Rosalind asks.
“I believe the land is,” I reply. “The city may simply be… where it’s loudest.”
The Cavern Z’maj Al’fa nods once, rattling his breastplate which is made up of ivory bones.
