Page 121 of Resurgent

She gestures toward the projection.

“It won't make you invincible. It won't stop magical attacks. It won't prevent internal trauma from overwhelming force, but…against conventional projectiles, blades, and certain explosive fragments, early trials suggest it could reduce penetration to nearly zero.”

Someone exhales sharply.

“Don't get excited just yet. We’re not giving this to you tomorrow, but we expect distribution to begin before the next major deployment cycle…and we can only pray it’ll be enough.”

Walking out of the classroom, I can’t help but look at the black folder still on her desk.

The illusion map…the dead battalion…all of it circles through my mind as I follow Matt and Sasha toward the door.

One hundred and ninety-nine soldiers, all gone because they believed what they saw.

I step into the hallway, and for the first time in my life, I find myself wondering just how much of the world around me is real.

Chapter thirty-six

Annalise

The woods behind Hunter’s house have become Tyr’s and my unofficial training ground.

Partly because they’re quiet, mostly because they’re private.

And, if I’m being completely honest, because every recruit at Scion has developed a healthy and entirely reasonable fear of wandering anywhere near this patch of forest since Hunter threatened to punish anyone who even thought of coming out here to ask for help outside of hours, after we were almost caught messing around on the front porch after a particularly hands-on workout.

Luckily, his horrifying remediations have guaranteed me the perfect place to practice morphing while Hunter is teaching classes in the mornings.

I stand barefoot in the damp grass, my eyes closed, the morning air cool against my skin.

“Ready?” Tyr asks.

I open one eye.

“You always ask that, but saying no never gets me out of this stupid warm-up,” I laugh, and his amusement rolls through the bond.

“Begin.”

The first exercise is always the same: small, simple changes. Precision before speed he says.

I focus on my hair, the sensation a massage that’s irritatingly too light. There’s a strange internal pull as I direct the change I want and let the magic take effect.

My hair darkens from its usual shade to red—hold for three seconds—reverse.

“Again,” Tyr says.

I change it to blonde, then back. Short, then normal. Then long enough to be called the new Rapunzel, and back to my usual length.

“Faster.”

I roll my eyes.

“I'm going as fast as I can.”

“You’re thinking too much.”

“First I think too loud, and now I think too much?”

“Yes, now stop thinking and just do it.”