The next few days of training were a nightmare. I felt like I was getting weaker, not stronger. I spent my nights plagued by nightmares and my mornings with sweat clinging to all parts of my body. I fell behind in warm ups, in our contactless combat. I still didn’t manage to reach the top of the rope in under thirty seconds.

Until the fifth day.

“You know the drill,” Dixon had yelled as we lined up in the training room. “Brooks, you’re up first. Maybe today we’ll see some progress.”

I straighten and make my way to the rope. Like always, there are some sneers and snarky remarks in the crowd. I ignore them and grip the rope, looking at my instructor to signal time.

And then I start. By now, I’ve figured out a strategy both by trial and error and by studying my peers who have succeeded by now. I take the rope between my hands and pull myself up. Instead of taking the rope between my knees, I put my weight on my ankles. I’m stronger than just a few days ago. I can see it in the way I can climb most of the way up with just my arms. By the time I am three quarters of the way there, I don’t have time to sit and think about how this is where I have given up every day prior. I just keep going. I feel my blood in my ears and my pulse in my fingertips. And, suddenly, the bell is in my hands. I ring it twice before sliding down to the mats. 

“Twenty eight seconds. Well done,” Dixon says. And I notice a sparkle in his eyes, almost like pride. But it’s gone as soon as it showed.

Joan doesn’t reach the top until the next day, the same day that someone “accidentally” hits me in the head during training. Little things like this have been happening all week, but I've kept my tongue and my temper. Whenever someone trips me or pushes me, I get right back up and pretend it never happened. By the seventh day, I am the third to finish laps, and I climb the rope in sixteen seconds, one of the best times among the 19 of us that remain. 

We are lined up along the wall of the training room as the outside light floods in, the sunrise drenching everything in gold. Dixon is slowly pacing before us, eyeing each of us intently.

“Today concludes the end of rookie week. Tomorrow, those that remain will begin professional training among the other members of Division D. And make no mistake, if you slip up there, you’ll be eaten alive. So before this day is over, some words of advice. Don’t get on your instructor’s bad side. Don’t go picking fights for no reason. And be careful who you underestimate. The real deal begins tomorrow. Get some sleep tonight and be ready to take some punches tomorrow. Understand?”

“Yes, sir,” we reply in unison. I take back what I thought on that first day. Dixon isn’t as cruel as I pegged him to be. Tough? Sure. But there’s a glint of something in his eyes, like when I scaled that rope completely for the first time the other day. Pride. Confidence in our abilities. I now understand why they put him in charge of us newcomers.

“Good. You rookies are dismissed.”

We begin to file out of the room but I pause when Dixon opens his mouth again.

“Brooks, fall back a moment.”

Dixon looks past me, waiting until the others have left the training room. Then he bends down and looks me in the eyes.

“Do you have something you want to tell me, kid?”

Uh oh. Whenever I’ve been asked this question in the past it means I fucked up somewhere. Like missed a school assignment or didn’t take out the trash or got caught smoking on school property or got in trouble with the law. Does he know about something? My hand raises to brush the mark on my chest but I catch myself and lower my arm back to my side. Tell no one.

“No sir.” I gulp.

“No?”

He backs away and checks his watch. Then he reached into his pocket and pulls out a small rectangle. My eyes widen at the sight of my phone. I thought it was gone for good. I almost held a funeral for the little guy.

“Found this by the lake on day one. I’m surprised you didn’t go looking for it. You should know better than to keep any tech on you during training.”

He hands the object to me and I almost deflate in relief. 

“Sir. Thank you sir.” I’m unable to keep the waver out of my voice. A smile twitches on my instructor’s lips.

“You didn’t hear it from me but I heard the wifi password is GH4432.”

My eyes are as wide as saucers. He laughs at my expression and slaps my shoulder hard.

“S-Sir.”

He looks around once more, inspecting that the coast is clear before leaning in close again. “One final word of advice for you, Brooks.”

I lean in closer, eager for any recommendations. “Be careful during hand to hand combat during training.” I frown at his words. I’ve become stronger already. Does he not think I can protect myself?

“I can take them, sir. I can handle myself.”

“Oh that I’m sure of. But that’s not what I mean.”

I quirk a brow. He continues in a hushed voice.

“Be careful of your strength and just what you display. It could attract the wrong attention.”

“Are you telling me to… to act weaker than I am?”

“Not in the slightest, son. I’m just saying you have a lot of potential and potential, in the wrong hands, can be dangerous.” He straightens up and raises his voice again. “You remind me of myself when I was your age, Brooks.” He turns and folds his hands behind his back. “You’re dismissed.”

I leave without another word. I should be feeling elated at his compliment and recognition. Anyone would be. But I’m not. I just feel worried.

I don’t go to the dining hall with Joan and the others like I have been lately after training. I go straight to my room. I look around at how disgustingly pristine the room is and sigh. I keep my room almost uncomfortably clean. I’m just paranoid. I feel like if I keep things a certain way, I can tell if someone broke in and tried to pull something on me. I can see if even something miniscule is out of place.

I ball my hands into fists and sink to the floor by the kitchenette. I feel lightheaded. Did Dixon see something when he looked into my eyes? Does he know? Am I in danger now? Haven’t I been even before I stepped foot in this place? Does it make any difference?

I wish Lucy was here. I haven’t seen her since our argument. Maybe she also was warned about some ominous secret that wasn’t explained to her. 

My chest suddenly feels like it’s burning but I can’t tell if it’s in my head or if it’s actually happening. I can’t breathe. It feels like a thousand knives are digging beneath my skin and I can’t breathe.

I pull my shirt over my head and throw it across the floor. I claw at the mark. It burns. I swear my skin is on fire.

In a haze, I grip the edge of the counter and pull myself to my feet. I stagger to the window and feel a sob grip my lungs. Suddenly there’s a flash of light and the entire campus bursts into flames. I scream and fall to the floor in time for a loud boom to shake the building. 

Heat pierces my face and my exposed skin. Fire consumes the entire earth below me. But that can’t be the case. Because I blink and all is restored. The fire disappears right before my eyes. I gasp and tears press against my eyelids. I need to calm down.

I’m crawling back to the kitchen when the second boom shakes the building. I feel like I’m back in my apartment building, watching the neighboring buildings crumble to dust beneath a stretch of flames. I look outside and watch Silva on the balcony, but this time she doesn’t come inside. She turns around and mouths something to me. And before I can move, she stretches her hands out and plummets off the fire escape. I’m sobbing and screaming but I can’t hear anything, can’t feel anything.

I grope the counter and find a permanent marker. I no longer feel like I’m in my body. I’m only watching as my fingers uncap the marker and trace that rune on the kitchen cabinet. My breathing is frantic. My eyes blurred. My hands write it on the bed frame, all over the floor, on the counters and the glass of the window. Everywhere and anywhere. A fire inside me grows while the fires outside weaken, until they are nothing more than smoke. 

I blink and the fire is gone. I am back in the dorm room, sitting on the floor. All around me are marks and sigils, ones I don’t recognize. At the very center of the room is the mark on my chest. There is sharpie everywhere. I don’t even have time to evaluate all the damage because there is a knock on my door. A gasp falls from my throat. I scrub the moisture from my lashes before sprinting to the door.

I crack it open, barely enough to fit my face through. Alex is standing with alarm clear on his face. “What happened? I heard screaming.”

“Nothing!” I say too loud. My voice comes out strained and cracked. I try again after clearing my throat and swallowing hard. He looks thoroughly unconvinced. I would be too.

“Nothing?” He asks, trying to look past me. I straighten and try to close the door even more. But Alex isn’t easily fooled. He grips the door and pushes hard so I lose my grip and stumble back. Like a deer caught in headlights I freeze as he opens the door all the way.

His eyes trace down my bare torso, lingering on the black sigil on my chest. Then they travel behind me, on the sharpied runes all over the room. And then they rest on my ink-stained hand, where I am still holding the permanent marker. I drop it and flinch as it hits the ground and rolls toward the center of the room. Alex is speechless as he walks past me and observes the symbols decorated in a circle in the room. They look like a solar system beneath our feet. All I can do is watch him as he crouches and brushes his fingertips over the ink, still damp. It stains his tan skin purple.

“Um-!” I start but he ignores me. He’s too busy climbing my couch and unscrewing the light fixture above our heads. “What are you-?”

“I got called here just for some night terrors?” He announces, almost bored. But the look in his eyes is wild. He looks at me in warning. I don’t know what’s happening but I play along.

“Yeah, sorry. Just some bad nightmare.”

“We have a doctor on sight who can give you some things for that,” he says, a little too loudly. He pulls something from behind the light. A stone drops in my stomach. A wiretap.

“Um, it’s fine,” I respond, loudly. “I’ll be fine.”

Alex moves to the bathroom and gets up on the toilet, removing a tile from the ceiling. He pulls out another wire. I shudder. Creepy. How did I not find these?

There’s a final one behind the kitchen outlet, one he removes with ease, like he's done this a million times before. Alex looks at me and brings a finger to his lips, a gesture of silence. Then he walks back to the bathroom and drops the wires into the toilet. After flushing them he turns back to me.

“Where did you see those symbols?” He asks in a harsh whisper. 

“I-I didn’t!” I defend. They just came out of me. It’s the truth and he must see it in my eyes because he furrows his brows and frowns.

“Those sigils haven’t been used in centuries. They’re off limits because of how dangerous they can be. Anyone who uses those can get into serious trouble.”

“What? What do you mean? I wasn’t even thinking when I did that. I just-”

“That’s even worse. Tell no one about this, do you understand me?” I’ve been told that a lot recently, but not told why.

“What does it mean?”

“This is dangerous, Aiden. Those are powerful runes. Some bad people used those back before…” he seemingly catches himself and shakes his head.

“What do all these marks do?”

“In general, sigils can help control or catalyze gifts. They can be used for protection, enhancement, wisdom, you name it. But these…” Alex trails off and shakes his head again.

“But I wasn’t even conscious when I wrote these. It’s like I woke up and I was surrounded by them. It was similar to when I went to the river and got this-” I looked down at my chest. Alex’s gray eyes looked almost silver with curiosity.

“There are occasions. Rare occasions.” He reaches forward, as though to trace the symbol with his fingers. But he snaps back to reality and lets his hand fall.

“Come on, let’s clean all this up.”

Alex helps me scrub the runes off of the surfaces of my dorm room. I kept stealing glances at him, wondering what was going through his head. Wondering what side he’s on and if it’s one I can trust.

After an hour or so, we’re finished. I’m exhausted and sitting on the floor with my head leaning against the couch cushions when Alex clears his throat. I look over, finding him combing through his jet black hair with his inked fingers. His walls are back up, I can tell.

“You should get some sleep. You’re going to need it for tomorrow,” he says and I nod dully.

“Thanks for helping.”

“Just stay out of trouble, Brooks. And try your best to fly under the radar.”

Alex tosses the dirty rag on the floor and leaves unceremoniously. I should throw it in the hamper but I can't move. I feel stunted by curiosity.

Things just keep getting weirder. I don’t know what to do or who to trust. I can’t even trust my own mind anymore.

I look up at the light fixture. I didn't even think to look there. Why are we being recorded? Why are they watching us? And who is “they”? Better yet, why did Alex know exactly where to find those wiretaps? Everyone is speaking in code. And I’m tired of being left in the dark. I’m going to figure this out.

And then I’ll figure out which side I’m really on.

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