Page 121 of Anomalies

The Captain stiffens, and a fury unlike anything I’ve ever seen sharpens his eyes. The slow turn of his head is predatory and static, pricks the air—so potent I’m nearly suffocated by it, and this time when Callan raises his hands, fire wreaths them.

“Wait!” I blurt, but he doesn’t stop, anger rippling off him in tidal waves. “Callan!” I shout this time, and his fire winks out, but the static still hangs in the air as he rolls out his shoulders and casts his wrathful gaze at me. I force in a deep breath. “Let me talk to him.”

Some of that anger tapers off at the sound of my voice, but he’s still drowning in it, I can tell. Is this the Captain in all his glory? Is this what Pax had been talking about? He’s someone else entirely in this room. Gone are the gentle hands that traced circles along my thighs, and gone are the lustful eyes that fell hungrily down my skin. This is…he’s a…savage in this room.

Callan gestures with his hand wide to Fenton, allowing me the honors, but I shake my head. “Alone. I want to talk to him alone.”

“Absolutely not,” he barks back, his tone leaving no room for argument, but that’s never stopped me before.

“Callan he’s fully restrained, I can protect myself, and you’re scaring him shitless.” His head shakes, but I can tell his reservations are slipping, so I push on. “He tried to kill me.” Silver eyes snap up to mine. “The least I deserve is an explanation, and he won’t give that to you.”

The Captain inhales deeply then exhales fully, swinging his attention back to Fenton, who has wisely kept his mouth shut, but he flinches back at the stare Callan pelts him with.

“I promise you a fate worse than death if you so much as spit on her shoes,” he deadpans, and Fenton stills. Then Callan turns to me, his words clipped but confident. “If he pulls anything, don’t hesitate, Chaos. I’ll be right outside that door if you need me.”

The echo of Callan’s heavy boots on stone fades, then the hatched door to the bunker creaks open and slams shut. Silence falls.

I look at Fenton.

He looks at me.

I break the silence. “This wasn’t your idea, was it? The fire, the Ashvine—someone put you up to it, didn’t they?” It’s a hollow gut feeling that I can’t ignore. Couldn’t ignore. Which is why I’m here.

Fenton’s chin dips to his chest, staring up at me past lowered brows. “You already know the answer to that question.”

My hands flex at my sides, a wave of fear swelling beneath my skin. “Tell me what you know.”

“Why? Are you going to convince the Captain to spare me if I do? We both know he’s not letting me leave here alive.” Fenton spits blood onto the floor beside him, tears welling in his eyes from the pressure of his broken nose.

“I have sway with the Captain,” I tell him. “And you have none.” He tracks me as I approach his chair, eyes widening when magic saturates my veins—Sol magic. “Tell me what you know or don’t, but the odds of you surviving are zero if you refuse.”

Fenton spits more blood onto the floor, groaning when the movement disturbs the swelling in his face. He glares back at me for a moment, debating his odds, and then I see the realization hit him—I’m all that’s left of his odds.

He lifts his chin to the best of his ability. “Seeing past the Veil isn’t a blessing of Diviners, it’s a curse,” Fenton snarls, choking out the words. “The dead don’t have power over the living, that’s the will of the Matrons, but your Velkan doesn’t care about anyone else’s will but his own.”

The air thickens—I knew it. After last night I…I knew it.

“He showed himself to you?” I clarify, and he smirks. Kimber was never able to see my Velkan fully, nor was Pa—those kinds of spirits have certain privileges when it comes to disclosing their identities. And now that I know who my father is…I’m not surprised he hid himself.

Fenton curls his lip back, baring his bloodied teeth. “He tormented me. Threatened to damn my soul to Pyra unless I help him get to you. He was careful with his words, but it didn’t take long for me to put two and two together. I saw the bits of gold in your eyes,” he spits, and I flinch back. “The hue matched the yellow in his. Your father put me up to this, dirty blood. He told me to get you close enough to death so that he could talk to you, but he never wanted to talk to you. He wanted to awaken the Rogue in your veins.”

The floor falls away. Everything falls away.

I suspected as much when I woke up in the infirmary. I felt…different. Raw. The same way I felt when I woke up on that beach three months ago, like my body wasn’t my own anymore.

“He wanted me to Split…again.” My voice is hardly more than a whisper.

“And it worked, didn’t it?” Fenton scoffs. “The Ashvine.”

My stomach knots itself, that dark void in the base of my spine twitching in response. It did.

“I had a feeling it would, but I was hoping it would kill you instead. You’re an abomination,” he spits out the word, more blood flying off his lip. “You deserve to die.”

Silence falls—thick and unwelcoming. This was never about being the daughter of an alleged traitor…it was about being the daughter of a Rogue. My father’s been trying to force a second Split. He’s been trying to awaken the beast I inherited from him.

And the poison…the Ashvine…Fenton⁠—

It worked.