She drank a cup of that bitter broth every day.
Pushing her hair from her face, she drew a shaking breath.
Kat’s authority was perseverance. She taught as someone who’d long stopped expecting softness to work. Burn. Fail. Correct. Burn again. On Audrey’s first day, Kat shoved her into the dirt. She’d failed to ignite a pile of sticks.
Maren’s role was distinct: quieter, more technical. She trained women who’d displayed kinetics—manipulating objects,shaping pressure, controlling fields. The day before, Maren punched Audrey in the mouth for pressing too hard.
Where Kat wanted instinct, Maren insisted on exactness.
But they both believed that power without control was worthless here.
So, she tried again.
Nothing.
Again.
Nothing.
Sweat stung her eyes. Her breath rattled. Nausea crept under her ribs.
“Two weeks,” Kat said. “And you’re still this terrible.”
Audrey ground her teeth so hard she thought she might crack a tooth. She wanted to burn Kat to ash. Unfortunately, that was the one thing she couldn’t seem to do.
Fire was supposed to be easy. Even Voírían children could conjure it. Yet Audrey still couldn’t produce so much as a spark. Instead, Kat had her doing humiliating little tasks: light this cigarette, heat that oven, ignite these lamps.
“I’m not like you,” Audrey muttered. “Whatever you’re trying to make me do—it’s not working.”
“No one gives a fuck what youthink. Thinking is your problem.”
Thinking was the only thing that had kept Audrey alive for ten years.
Kat jabbed a finger at Audrey’s sternum. “A Voírían acts from here. Feel, don’t think.”
Audrey almost laughed. She’d spent a decade wanting nothing more than for the thoughts in her head to shut the hell up.
They worked in brittle silence. Beneath Kat’s sharp edges, Audrey sometimes felt a glimmer of something like reluctant mentorship. Maybe even kinship.
“Again,” Kat snapped, gesturing to the torches. “The fire is here. It’s everywhere. Command it.”
Audrey sighed.
At first, she’d carried herself like a Simas. Her mother’s name. Gold triad potential. Something rare and powerful. But weeks of failure had carved that pride down to bone.
The whispers in her head grew louder.
You killed your parents. You deserve this.
Self-contempt churned through her, but she needed to stay alive—for Cary. For the promise Ryker had dangled before her: power. Freedom.
Captivity was wearing her thin, though. The constant brush of other people’s thoughts clawed at her nerves. Every day felt like walking barefoot across glass. Her temper frayed. Her walls cracked. A guard had shoved her yesterday. She’d bared her teeth and growled with that low vibrating trill deep in her chest. He’d gone pale and let her pass.
And today, a crack split clean down her patience. “Fuck you. Fuck this place.” Audrey surged to her feet, anger blazing hot enough to almost be flame. “I might look like you, but I am not the same. I don’t belong here.”
She lunged, forgetting she was a prisoner and that she could read intent. In fact, she forgot everything but the need to hit something.
Kat’s fist met her cheek before Audrey even registered the movement. “Stupid, stubborn female,” Kat snarled. “You’re as Voírían as they come.”
