Sophie wasted no time dragging me into her office. I say dragging, but she merely walked fast and expected me to keep up. I followed her mostly because the alternative involved fainting in a hallway again, and I had already checked that off my weekly embarrassment list.
Her office was packed with screens, aura readers, sigil charts, and more psychological torture mugs than anyone should own. She gestured for me to sit in the chair across from her.
“Deep breaths,” she said.
“I am breathing,” I answered. “Barely. But yes.”
She typed something into her console and the holo-map from earlier projected between us, dim and pulsing with red dots that made my skin itch. The psychic spikes still formed that horrible web shape, each point flickering in a rhythm I wished I could not feel.
Sophie
