After lying petrified in bed for three hours, I pretend to sleep as Olin floats telekinetically into his bunk above me. This time I know I’m not dreaming. Olin has passed through the door in my place; that much is certain. Why and how, I’ve no idea.
For an additional hour, I run the logwood dye bath routine in effort to drive out the haunting presence of Toltec. I feel him poking and prodding around the edges of my conscious thoughts. His constant invasiveness over the last several days has driven me to the brink of madness.
During the long hours of night, I no longer trust any of my senses, or my ability to process them. Whatever has happened between me and Olin, I will have to wait until morning to seek an explanation.
Mercifully, the allrise chime sounds in my ears. Exhausted by the effort of sleeping, I embrace another day of wakeful tiredness. Quick to rise, Olin slides down the ladder and disappears into the commons before I even budge. With effort, I remove my sheet and drop my bare feet to the floor. There will be time to quiz Olin later. First I need to steady myself.
“So you’re not even bothering with dressing and undressing anymore?” Yetic works me over with his eyes.
I press my hands to my face in attempt to wipe away my mental illness like beads of sweat.
“Still not sleeping, huh?” Yetic takes my hand and helps me up.
I nod. “For the most part, I can keep him out of my thoughts—or at least away from anything important. But the effort is constant. I don’t know how much longer I can keep it up.”
Yetic clutches my forearm and guides me toward the washroom. “Why not stop trying? I mean, if this guy really is part of the regime or even the academy, what’s he going to do mentally that he can’t do in person?”
I rest my hands on either side of a sink and ponder the question while looking at my reflection in the polished metal mirror. “The last time I let him in, he took Zorrah,” I say.
“No offense, Cal,” Yetic splashes his face with water from a neighboring sink before turning toward the showers, “but maybe you should start worrying more about yourself than the rest of us. We’re not helpless, you know.” With that he steps behind a barrier to disrobe.
I turn on the water and cup my hands. On the surface, I want to believe Yetic is right. I pour water over my head and down my face several times. I towel off and hit the head. By the time I reach the commons, I know Yetic is wrong. He doesn’t know what it’s like to have his thoughts molested by a malevolent mind—to be forcefully co-opted into hurting the ones he loves.
If Toltec, whoever he is, wants to attack me and mine, let the monster do it in person.
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