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Morning came, the bright sunlight mocking me with its yellow cheer as it slid through my pale beige curtains. I’d tried to sleep because there was nothing else to do, but it hadn’t come. I’d showered at around three in the morning, but that hadn’t helped, either. The cracks in the mirror and the decimated soap just reminded me of my failure with the pixies. My wet hair soaking the pillow, I’d tossed and turned, checking my phone every five minutes for news from Genie. But her radio silence continued, and the hexed room prevented me from going to find her.

Checking the clock and wincing at the harsh blue light, I saw that it was 6:03. After dialing Genie’s number for the billionth time, I held the phone to my ear, willing it to go through… only to get the same voicemail recording: “Sorry, I can’t come to the phone right now. Leave a message, and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks, bye!”

Her chipper tone made me all the more desperate to reach her. Worst-case scenarios tumbled through my head. What if Victoria had hexed her into her room, too? What if she was hiding out, unable to get in touch? What if the person responsible for these kidnappings had taken her? I couldn’t stomach that last one. As bitter ironies went, that would have been the cruel icing on top of this rancid cake.

I tapped the phone against my chin, trying to come up with something. Anything. I thought about calling Nathan, but I didn’t have his number. Even in this modern age of technology, I had no way of getting in touch with anyone outside this door. I could’ve called my mom, but that would’ve left me with a lot of explaining to do, and frankly, I didn’t want to cross Victoria again. It would guarantee me a ticket out of there for sure if I went against her wishes a third time. Oh, and there was the big fat fact that it wouldn’t have worked, even if I’d wanted to do that, since she’d blocked outside calls from coming in or going out. She clearly wanted to keep this inside the Institute, to avoid an external scandal.

Do you have any idea what damage this could do to my family name? That was what Charlotte had said, but I sensed it went deeper than that. It wasn’t just the Basani name at stake, but the entire Institute. Magical authorities would have to get involved, and they’d be forced to assess the safety of this place and the students therein. It could get closed down. And that would all be because of me, if I opened my mouth and spilled the beans to the wrong people. But where did that leave me? Alone, with no one to talk to, that was where.

“This is ridiculous!” I yelled, punching a pillow. “Why couldn’t you have picked someone else, you bastard! I liked my life! I didn’t mind being ordinary! Why did it have to be me?!” This curse was merciless, without a single silver lining. I wondered how Echidna had endured it. How long had she lived, watching her creations get rounded up and put into glass boxes? I imagined it hadn’t always been that way. Once upon a time, monsters must’ve roamed the Earth freely. It was only when the covens were created, and someone realized that Purge beasts could power them, that they’d lost their liberty.

You must’ve been so sad all the time. Perhaps she’d considered it a blessing when Tobe put her on ice, so she wouldn’t have to stand by and watch anymore. I’d never expected to sympathize with my predecessor, but it was hard not to, given the circumstances—and I’d only had this curse for a short time.

What is wrong, my Persephone? That voice echoed in my head, making me jolt in surprise. It came through bright and clear this time. A direct line from Leviathan himself—not like before, when he’d told me to sing. I didn’t know whether to laugh or cry. It paid to be careful what you wished for. Had I wanted someone to speak to so badly that I’d opened up a telepathic link to Leviathan?

I shook my head. Is this a trick? You can’t be in my head—you’re at the SDC. I went away so you couldn’t do this anymore.

I felt your pain and came to ease it. You should not suffer like this. His words were alarmingly soft and soothing. Exactly what I needed, but from the wrong person.

I picked up the pillow and wrapped it around my head, like that would do any good. This isn’t possible. You’re an ocean away.

I pressed my hands harder against my ears, pushing further into the pillow. None of this made any sense. When he’d told me to sing, that voice had been far away, like a message that had been left some time ago. But this came through crystal clear and gut-wrenchingly present. Unless… everyone had been wrong about how far our connection could reach. Like the Purges, maybe it took extreme emotion to get the link to work like this, my anguish and misery somehow forcing the transmission across greater distances. The possibility stunned me for a second, equal parts terrifying and incredible.

Do you want me to leave? He let the words linger in my skull, putting the ball firmly in my court. Part of me wondered if he would actually go, if I told him to.

I’m not sure, I replied. He might have been the monster who’d done this to me, but he was the only person I had right then. And, sometimes, something was better than nothing.

He chuckled quietly. Then I will stay until you decide.

I didn’t know what to talk to him about. He wanted to know if I was okay, but he likely already knew the answer, or he wouldn’t have struck up a telepathic conversation in the middle of a nervous breakdown. So, I did the only thing I could do. I put the pillow back down and watched the sunrise, the vivid orange and sunflower yellow splintering the aquamarine sky.

What are you doing, my Persephone? he asked.

I shrugged, even though he couldn’t see me. Watching the sun come up and fretting about my friend and the pixies I Purged.

He made a noise of intrigue. Pixies? How thrilling. I have not seen their kind in many a year.

So everyone keeps saying. I sighed, closing my eyes to the brightness.

You do not care for them?

No… I do. That’s why I’m sitting here, locked in a room. Eyes squeezing tighter, enveloping me in a self-darkened world, a few questions popped into my head. Ones only he would be able to answer. Is there a reason I didn’t Purge for five days?

I thought I heard him shrug. Your ability does not want to kill you. It wants you to succeed. It was likely allowing you to recover from your last Purge.

Oh, so it played nice then it made me Purge a horde. I puffed air between my teeth. Not what I’d call considerate.

Has it killed you? Has it destroyed you? As you are speaking, I think not, he replied with a muffled chuckle. He was clearly enjoying himself.

Another question pressed at the forefront of my mind. Would there be a reason a monster couldn’t turn into black mist if I held it in my hands? I caught one and it was like it… couldn’t get away, but the ones I didn’t get a hold of had no problem misting out of reach.

You created them. Your touch is powerful. They may feel dutybound to maintain their physical form if you make contact with one, until you release them again, he explained. Although perhaps it would be better if you told me everything. I must have full understanding of these developments.

I flopped back on the bed and stared up at the ceiling while I told him the whole story. I had nothing better to do, and part of me hoped he might be able to give me some more advice, or a snippet of information that would help in the grander scheme of things. I wouldn’t be able to convince Victoria, of course, but it might clear things up, once and for all, in my own mind. If I knew my path was just, it’d spur me to continue. Twisting the sheets around my index finger, I decided to add the bit about the glass-box dream to explain why I was constantly on edge.

A perplexing thought came to me, halfway through the story. Hang on… Did you have something to do with that dream? If you did, you can leave my head right now and never come back! He’d put dreams into my head before, after all.

Leviathan sighed, as though he were sad. I did not. You may choose to disbelieve me, but I assure you I had no part in it. I give only pleasant dreams that I construct carefully. Fear created this. I understand the feeling within it—it is your worst nightmare, literally and figuratively. And your fears are justified. No one else can understand your situation; no one but me. People are terrified of what they cannot comprehend. They choose to imprison it, instead.

He needed a lesson or two in how to be comforting. I didn’t want to hear that my loved ones could turn against me, or that my fears were justified. I wanted him to tell me that it meant nothing—just an anxiety dream that had no basis whatsoever in reality. But this was Leviathan talking, and he had all the subtlety of a bull in a china shop. Plus, I didn’t know if I actually believed him. He sounded sincere, but that didn’t prove a whole lot.

I frowned. How come you didn’t try to talk to me after I had the nightmare, then? I was pretty freaked out the first time it came.

I did not know if this would work. But it did and I am pleased. It sounded bizarre, but I could’ve sworn I heard him smiling. I could picture it, his razor-sharp rows of teeth crammed together in a grin. Nor do I always know if such a visit would be welcomed. I had a sense it might be, on this occasion.

I snorted. You mean you’d like to think that.

Yes. He sounded sad again. I wasn’t sure what to do with sad Leviathan. I was so used to cocky, irritating, in-your-face Leviathan. But I think you will be pleased that I contacted you.

Oh? Why’s that? Did he have some information for me? I sat up sharply and perched on the edge of the bed, leaning forward as if he were actually there. I could’ve used a breakthrough, right about then.

I know where your magicals have gone.

My heart hammered in my chest. You do?

There is ancient magic where the Institute rests. It predates even the ruins that the Institute scavenged. His tone took on a bitter note. Magic of the Primus Anglicus, the Celtic contingent, if you will. Monsters know of it. It is part of why they despise the Institute, for it sits on sacred ground. Namely, the doorway to the land of Tír na nóg, a mythical gateway. Though it is more frequently referred to, by our kind, as the Door to Nowhere.

Why do you call it that? I felt like I already knew, but my exhausted brain needed it spelled out.

He laughed coldly. Because of the many people who walk through it and do not come back. The magic of the Door has been dormant for a long time because of the Institute. It needed awakening, a spark of raw Chaos to ignite it. You have awakened it, my Persephone. He sucked in a deep breath, as though the prospect thrilled him. I can feel the Door to Nowhere through you. My Persephone, what a wonder you are.

What? Are you saying that this is all my—

But at that moment, Victoria burst into the room, the door slamming into the wall with a bang as it opened, and the connection dissipated. She crossed to the center of the room and paused there, stiff and straight with purpose. Heavy silence blanketed the bedroom, and I found no hint of softness in her eyes. She stared at me, the silence getting thicker and more suffocating by the moment.

I had nowhere to run to… and the head huntswoman looked truly, madly furious.

This is about to get worse, isn’t it?