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WILLOW

P yke’s office is as intimidating as the first time I stepped into it six months ago, though now the holographic globe above his desk feels more like a looming reminder of the stakes than a curiosity.

The scale of everything—the size of the desk, the height of the ceiling, the sheer presence of the Vakutans towering around me—makes me feel like I’ve been shrunk down to the size of a doll.

And then there’s Raekon, standing beside me, his jaw clenched so tightly I can see the muscle twitching.

He’s tense, which only makes me more nervous.

When Pyke steps around his desk and gestures for Raekon to follow him into the hall, I feel a jolt of panic.

“Wait—” I start, but Raekon’s hand brushes mine, silencing me with a single touch.

“Stay here,” he murmurs, his voice low and urgent. “Whatever they ask you to do, don’t succeed.” Then he’s gone, leaving me with a room full of Vakutan scientists and a growing sense of dread.

I’m not alone for long. A tall, lanky Vakutan with a red glowing cybernetic eye steps forward, his movements slightly jerky, like an overgrown marionette.

He’s wearing a tweed jacket that wouldn’t look out of place on a Victorian professor, and the combination of his eccentric appearance and the way he’s grinning at me makes me want to backpedal.

Instead, I stand my ground, folding my arms across my chest and trying to look less like a scared rabbit and more like someone who belongs here.

“Ah, Ms. Christian,” he says, his voice brimming with enthusiasm. “I’m Doctor Professor Winn. Delighted to make your acquaintance! I’ve heard so much about you.”

“All good things, I hope,” I say, though it comes out more sarcastic than I intend.

Winn chuckles, a sound that’s equal parts amusement and manic energy. “Oh, indeed! But let’s not waste time with pleasantries. We have so much to discover about you.”

“Discover? Like what?”

He ignores my question and holds up an iron bar, the metal gleaming under the harsh office lights. “Let’s start with something simple. Can you bend this?”

He drops it on the floor in front of me with a clatter that makes me flinch. I stare at it, then up at him, blinking. “Uh… no? I don’t go to the gym or whatever.”

“With your mind ,” Winn clarifies, tapping his temple. “Focus. Move it.”

“You’re joking, right?”

He tilts his head, the red light of his cybernetic eye flickering as he studies me. “Not at all. The human mind is a powerful tool. We’re here to determine just how powerful yours is.”

I glance around the room, but the other scientists are watching me with expectant expressions, like I’m about to perform a magic trick. “Yeah, okay, sure. Let me just wiggle my nose like Samantha from Bewitched and—oh, wait, nothing’s happening. Must’ve left my telekinesis at home.”

Winn lets out a delighted laugh, clapping his hands together. “Oh, she’s feisty ! I like her.” He steps closer, crouching slightly so we’re eye level. “But perhaps we’re starting too advanced. Let’s try something simpler. Look into my mind and tell me what you see.”

I blink at him, then burst out laughing. “I’m terrified to look into your mind.”

The other scientists chuckle, and even Winn grins, though there’s a flash of something—disappointment? Frustration?—in his expression. “Fair enough,” he says, straightening up. “Perhaps we should begin with the most basic tests first. No need to overwhelm you.”

“Great,” I mutter under my breath. “Can’t wait.” But Winn’s already bustling over to a table cluttered with strange devices, muttering to himself as he prepares… whatever comes next. Don’t succeed. Whatever that means, I’m just hoping it doesn’t involve bending metal bars or reading minds.

Doctor Winn steps closer, holding a sleek compad in his hand. The device looks like something out of a sci-fi movie, all glowing edges and smooth, alien lines. He’s grinning at me like a kid about to reveal a magic trick.

“Ms. Christian, this compad has been programmed to display a series of random images,” he says, his voice dripping with theatricality. “I’ll hold it so only I can see the screen, and you’ll guess what’s displayed. Simple, yes?”

I shrug. “Sure. Whatever. But don’t blame me if I’m terrible at this. I’m not exactly the ‘guess the picture’ type.”

“We’ll see,” he says, his cybernetic eye whirring softly as it focuses on me. I’m half-convinced it’s going to pop out of his head and float around the room. He tilts the compad so I can’t see it and nods. “Begin.”

I snort internally. Raekon’s warning echoes in my head. Don’t succeed. Easy. I’m not psychic. This is going to be a cakewalk.

The first image pops into my head—a duck. Random, sure, but whatever. “Uh… a duck?” I say, dragging out the words like I’m not even trying.

Winn’s eye widens, and the glowing red light inside it flares brighter. “Correct,” he says, his tone somewhere between impressed and unnerved. “Proceed.”

Wait, what? I blink at him. “You’re joking.”

“Not at all.” He taps the compad, and the next image comes to me immediately—a toaster. No way. Aliens don’t have toasters. That’s too… human. Too mundane.

“A toaster,” I say with zero confidence.

His eye practically explodes with light. “Correct again.” He’s staring at me like I’ve just grown a second head.

My stomach drops. This can’t be happening. I’m guessing . There’s no way I’m actually seeing these images in my head. Right?

“Go again,” he says, his voice quieter now, almost wary.

The next image hits me—a guitar. I say it. Correct. Again. A tree. Correct. A spaceship. Correct.

My heart’s pounding now. This isn’t normal. This isn’t possible . I’m not some psychic freak. I’m just… me. Willow. The girl who barely survived algebra.

“Are you toying with me, Ms. Christian?” Winn asks, his tone sharp, his cybernetic eye telescoping out slightly as if trying to get a better look at me. “Because if you’re intentionally failing now, I’d appreciate the candor.”

I freeze. “Failing? I’m not failing. I’m just… not very good at this.”

“You were flawless until a moment ago,” he snaps, his patience clearly wearing thin. “Now suddenly you’re wrong four times in a row? Unlikely.”

“Guess I’m just inconsistent,” I say, crossing my arms and trying to look as clueless as possible.

Winn leans in, his face too close for comfort. “Ms. Christian, if you’re holding back, you’re only delaying the inevitable. We’ll find out what you’re capable of, one way or another.”

Great. Just what I wanted—a creepy, oversized alien scientist breathing down my neck and threatening me with… what? More tests? Brain scans? I swallow hard, my mind racing. I need to figure out how to fail without looking like I’m failing. This is going to be harder than I thought.

Winn’s grin widens as he attaches the last electrode to my temple, his cybernetic eye whirring faintly like a camera focusing. The wires dangle around my face, and I resist the urge to swat them away. “Comfortable?” he asks, tilting his head as if he genuinely cares about my answer.

“Oh, absolutely,” I say, voice dripping with sarcasm. “This is how I always imagined spending my Tuesday. Hooked up to alien tech, playing Vakutan Tetris . Truly living the dream.”

He chuckles, a sound that’s half-amusement, half-mad-scientist glee. “Good, good! Now, let’s see what you can do.” He gestures to the holographic display hovering in front of me, the colorful blocks falling in slow, erratic patterns. “Control it with your mind. Just… think the blocks into place.”

I stare at him, then at the display. “You’re joking, right?”

“Not at all.”

I sigh and focus on the screen, trying to will the blocks to move. Nothing happens. The blocks keep falling, stacking haphazardly, and I’m pretty sure I’m losing even though there’s no score. “Yep,” I say after a full minute of glaring at the screen. “Still not a psychic. Shocking.”

Winn taps his chin, his cybernetic eye narrowing. “Hmm. Perhaps we’re approaching this wrong. Let’s try something else.” He rummages around in a drawer and pulls out what looks like a video game controller. “Here. Use this first. Learn the mechanics. Then we’ll try again with your mind.”

I take the controller, rolling my eyes. “So, what, I’m supposed to believe I’m going to suddenly develop telekinesis just because I’ve played a few rounds of this?”

“Just play,” he says, his tone annoyingly cheerful.

I shrug and start pressing buttons. The blocks respond immediately, snapping into place as I clear row after row. Despite myself, I grin. “Okay, this is kind of fun. I’m going to be sad when you take this away.”

Winn’s grin turns downright predatory. “Oh, you mean this controller, Ms. Christian?” He holds up one end of a cable, and I freeze, my fingers still poised over the buttons. “The one that was never plugged into the console in the first place?”

I glance down at the controller in my hands, then follow the cable’s path. It’s not connected to anything. My stomach drops. “Wait. No. That’s not?—”

“That’s right,” Winn says, leaning in so close I can see the faint red glow of his eye reflecting off my face. “We pulled a sneaky on you! You’ve been controlling the game with your mind the entire time.”

My mouth goes dry. The controller slips from my hands and clatters to the floor. “Shit,” I whisper, staring at the screen where the blocks are still falling, still moving—still responding to my thoughts.

Winn claps his hands together, his excitement palpable. “Fascinating! Absolutely fascinating! You’ve been suppressing this ability without even realizing it. Now, let’s push further?—”

“No,” I say, standing up so fast the electrodes yank at my scalp. “No more pushing. No more tests. I’m done.”

Winn blinks, his grin faltering. “But Ms. Christian, we’ve barely scratched the surface of?—”

“I said no ,” I snap, my voice sharper than I intended. “I’m not some lab rat for you to prod and poke. I don’t care what kind of alien freak show you’re running here—I’m out.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his cybernetic eye whirring softly. Then, to my surprise, he shrugs. “Very well. For now. But mark my words, Ms. Christian—this isn’t over.”

I yank the electrodes off my head, the adhesive pulling at my skin. “Yeah, well, mark my words—if you try to drag me back into this, I’m taking that stupid eye of yours with me.”

Winn chuckles, but there’s a glint in his eye—real eye, not the cybernetic one—that tells me he’s not intimidated. “Oh, Ms. Christian,” he says, amused. “I think you and I are going to have a lot of fun together.”