Page 74 of Storm Caller

She gives me a pointed look. It’s a reminder. I am free, but I have work to do. People to save. A mission to accomplish.

“I want to see Rook and my friends. Are they okay?”

“I believe everyone is in a similar condition to when you last saw them,” Sol answers. “And I’m sure they’re eager to see you, too.”

“Will you come visit us, at least?” my mom asks. “For dinner? Please?”

She takes my hands in hers, squeezing them, her eyes pleading.

“How’s Knox?” I ask, curious about what happened to him.

An awkward pause as my parents share a look.

“Knox is engaged to the Jenkins girl,” my father says without emotion.

“Oh,” I say, not sure how to react.

This is what I wanted, and it’s hard not to feel a sort of conflicted relief.

“So he survived,” I say.

“He was injured in the tunnel collapse,” Sol says. “He’s still contending with some residual injuries, but he’s expected to make a full recovery. He’s being lauded as a hero for trying to stop you from leaving.”

I can’t tell from her tone what she thinks of that, but it definitely pisses me off.

A hero? Rook was right. He is a cockroach.

But at least he’s alive. Despite everything, I didn’t want him to die.

“So, we’ll see you soon?” my mom asks.

She’s so hopeful that I can’t bring myself to say no.

“Sure,” I say, not sure if I really mean it, but she beams, wrapping me in another hug.

My parents leave, and then I’m standing alone with General Sol.

I give her an expectant look, hoping for some guidance on where we go from here.

“You’re free to go. Return to your room and have a good year at school.”

Then she also walks away.

It feels like a rejection. It feels like I imagined the entire conversation we had in the Veil. I remind myself that she has no public reason to talk to me any further. I’m just a cadet, and she is The Shield. She was probably already too involved in all of this for it to appear normal.

I’m alone, and it finally hits me.

I survived.

Somehow, we convinced them I’m not a danger, and I’m still standing.

I have a lot of questions. I’m harboring more secrets than ever.

But I survived.

I break into a run, dashing across the plaza, surprised to see dozens of people milling around in circles, carrying large signs covered with black ink. More protestors petitioning on behalf of loved ones who’ve been taken by the Extinguishers.

I want to talk to them, but I’m also aware of the Patrol standing nearby, watching the protestors’ every move. I can’t draw any more attention to myself, at least for now.