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Ten minutes later, I sat in Victoria’s office for one of our daily half-hour sessions, which sort of made Marcel’s early finish meaningless for me. She’d cancelled this morning’s tutorial and rescheduled it for the end of the day, but I didn’t fancy stretching my evening out further than I had to. I hoped I could catch her a little early and make quick work of the dojo once I was done. Genie had gone to do some private study, with a promise to meet me back at the dojo afterward. I just had to send a text and she’d be there to keep me company, grateful not to have to pore over Gatsby’s Encyclopedia of Monster Anatomy, a book so heavy you had to wheel it on a cart to your study spot.

“You look tired. Are you eating and sleeping properly?” Victoria began, not very flatteringly. “Has there been a Purge I do not know about?”

I shook my head. “I think I’m just starting to look like a student. Twelve-hour days have a way of catching up to a person.”

“Yes, perhaps.” She gave a small sniff which I guessed was supposed to be a chuckle. “Now, how are you getting on with your Euphoria techniques? It’s been a few days since we discussed that, but I do believe it may be key to unlocking voluntary Purges.”

“I… keep trying, but nothing really happens,” I admitted.

“Even with the Astral Conduit I gave you?” Victoria furrowed her brow. Being sans-magic came with a particular set of difficulties that tended to frustrate the bejeezus out of the head huntswoman. If the key to voluntary Purges was Euphoria, then I doubted I’d ever be able to manage it. Only magicals could tap into that higher state, device or no device.

I took a flat disc that looked like it was made of hematite out of my backpack and slid it across the desk toward her. “I can’t even get it to light up the way you did last time.” I waggled my fingers. “I don’t have the right fuel. It’s like trying to ram a square peg into a round hole.”

“That just means we can strike that option off the list, but I have a whole host of alternatives for us to delve into.” Her black eyes glinted with eagerness. “This is as new to me as it is to you, but we will find a way together. I simply refuse to believe that your ability is random. Ironically, Chaos is an entity of order. There must be a system to it.”

We had gone over endless possibilities throughout the last six months, without coming up with much to show for it. I agreed with her that there had to be hidden depths to this ability, but Leviathan had been no help in suggesting what they might be. Still, my Purges had evened out of their own accord, to a certain extent. I knew they would come at least once a week, but they still spewed out of me whenever they felt like it. I couldn’t schedule them to arrive at six o’clock on a Thursday evening, regular as clockwork, but we’d both come to the conclusion that life would be much easier if I could schedule a Purge. It was the kind of control that I dreamed of, taking the unexpectedness out of this curse. But, right now, it was exactly that… a dream.

“I think we should go back to the emotion thing,” I offered. “Meditation calms me down, and that keeps a Purge at bay. My worst Purges happen when I’m at a fever pitch of anger, or sadness, or stress. Sure, they come along when I’m fine, too, but I just feel like we’re missing something by not playing on emotion.”

Victoria got up and paced behind her armchair, tapping a finger on her lower lip. “Okay, we’ll try that for today’s session.” She paused and looked at me. “How is your monster diary coming along?”

“It’s pretty detailed,” I replied. She’d suggested I keep a journal of sorts, writing down every Purge beast I created and how I’d felt when it happened. I’d turned it into more of a detailed sketchbook, with close-up diagrams and labels I could reference if I needed to.

“Any sort of pattern emerging?”

I shrugged. “Not that I can see. I’ve had Nathan take a look at it, and he can’t see any uniformity to it, either.”

“After six months, I would have thought there would be some regularity to the kinds of beasts you Purge.” She sighed, evidently exasperated that my ability continued to baffle and bemuse. “Perhaps, if we can uncover a way for you to choose when you Purge, you will also be able to choose the size and type of beast that you create.”

“Sure, let’s add that to the abstract theory list.” I flashed her a resigned smile. We kept bandying theories between us, but so far none of them had actually formed into something real. I was beginning to wonder if they ever would. Maybe, if I was a true magical, these things could’ve been possible. But there was every chance that Echidna and Leviathan had bet on the wrong horse when they’d “gifted” me with this ability. They might’ve thought what everyone else thought, that being a Merlin immediately meant magic up the wazoo. Ergo, by not having said Chaos up the wazoo, there would always be peaks of this ability that I would never be able to climb to.

Victoria waved a hand through the air. “I only have you for half an hour. Why don’t we begin with the emotion theory, and combine that with your meditation practices? Focus on a moment in which you have felt overwhelmed with emotion, and try to relive it as I have taught you—retracing the footsteps of a memory—and use that to see if you can urge a monster to come out.”

“I’ll give it a whirl.” Shifting until I felt more comfortable in the armchair, which was so large that it swamped me, I closed my eyes and tried to do what she’d instructed. I knew precisely which part of my memory I needed to claw my way into, though it wasn’t so much an actual memory as the recollection of a dream.

I took a few deep breaths, sinking deeper into my subconscious with each lungful, the way Victoria had taught me over the last six months. The feel of the smooth armchair underneath my fingertips disappeared and the sound of Victoria’s breathing faded to nothing, my awareness of her office melting away until there was nothing but blank darkness in my mind. A clean slate with which I’d start building the image I needed.

Think of glass. It’s smooth and cold to the touch, with a bluish tint and a breath of frost across it. It’s all around me—a pane on each side, one on the floor, and one forming the roof of the box. Like a construction worker, I brought the pieces into that dark space in my head, putting myself in the center of it. Well, a projection of myself. The glass panes slotted into position, trapping me. Already, a flicker of claustrophobia made my lungs clench slightly, though I tried to carry on breathing deeply for the sake of the meditative state.

Dark figures in cloaks. Everyone I love, standing watching, doing nothing. A shadow breathing down my neck. He’s cold, and his voice sends a shudder up my spine. I’m trapped in here with him, because they think I am what he is. A monster. I used the narrative to bring in the primary players, the cloaked members of the SDC—family, friends, and those in between—appearing in front of the frosted glass. Using my artistic flair, I added detail to my mother’s sad face, drawing in the crow’s feet around her eyes and the trembling of her lower lip as she condemned her daughter to a life of imprisonment. I did the same with my father, manipulating his face so that he had it turned away, his eyes lowered as if he couldn’t even look at me. For Tobe and Genie, I made sure they looked distraught, their eyes wide and glittering with un-spilled tears. I needed it to hit me hard.

It’s safer for everyone… As if I had pressed play on a paused screen, the scene began to play out as it did in my dreams. I didn’t have that nightmare as often as I used to, but it still popped in once a week, usually around the same time I Purged. I’d chosen the trigger most likely to set me off, as my psyche now associated the two things.

I was inside the box now, no longer seeing it as a projection but feeling as though I were actually, physically, painfully there. Everyone began to turn away from me, the jangle of keys rattling in my ears and giving the imprisonment a sense of finality. It played out familiarly. I screamed. I pounded at the glass. There was blood, sweat, and tears. And I was infinitely alone.

Except for one person, if you could call him that.

Persephone? Are you in pain? Leviathan’s voice boomed in my skull, but he wasn’t behind me, as he always was in this nightmare. This was the real Leviathan, making contact through my meditative state. Persephone, talk to me. Are you reaching out to me? Are you in trouble? I am here. I am always here.

I scrambled free of the image I’d crafted in my mind, using the skills Victoria had taught me to unravel what I’d built. It began with pushing my finger hard into the slight dip behind my ear, where there was a nerve point—a trigger method we’d worked on long and hard so I would always have a way out of the “re-experiencing walks,” as she called them. The box stayed exactly where it was, my family and friends still visible in the near distance. Utter terror seized me, freezing the blood in my veins. The nerve trick had never failed before, but my memory wasn’t fading.

Persephone? Your heart is beating too fast. Calm down, my darling. You must breathe… Leviathan urged.

I pushed harder into the nerve point behind my ear, still crying from the experience of the nightmare. I didn’t know if it was possible to get stuck inside a memory, but this wasn’t one I wanted to be trapped in.

I felt cold fingertips on my neck, brushing back my hair. I am here, my Persephone. You must calm down. Your heart is beating too fast and you have forgotten to breathe. I became vaguely aware of Leviathan behind me, his scaly arms wrapping around my waist until my back was flush to his armored chest. I am expending a great deal of energy to join you here, in this memory. You must listen before I have to go. Breathe with me. I need you to breathe, my darling.

My hands somehow held onto his forearms, my fingertips sensing every ridge and indent of his scales, as though he really were here. I… can’t. I can’t get out.

You can, and you must. Breathe with me. I felt his chest rise against my back, and instinctively took a breath to match his. I held it until he exhaled, following his example. Over and over, I copied the rhythm of his breathing, the panic subduing in my chest. I felt as though I were meditating all over again, but within my own mind, a Russian nesting doll of meditations. Now, release yourself from the memory, he said softly, and I felt the hiss of his breath against my cheek.

Lifting my finger, I pressed it into the dip behind my ear… and everything fell away. The glass shattered and the darkness erupted into light, my eyes flying open to find myself back in Victoria’s office, panting for dear life. She stood in front of me, her hands on my arms as though she had been shaking me.

“Persie, are you all right?” she gasped, paler than I had ever seen her.

I nodded uncertainly. “I got… stuck.”

“There were wisps of black smoke coming off you, but I couldn’t snap you out of it!” She sounded as panicked as I’d felt. “You were shaking and mumbling and sweat was pouring off you. I really thought you might have cracked it, but then I wasn’t able to stir you...”

I pressed the back of my hand to my forehead. Sure enough, I wiped away a slick of sweat. “There was smoke? For real?”

“There was, but… I don’t know if we should try that again.” Victoria straightened up, masking the panic with her usual brand of firm confidence. “What was the memory, if you don’t mind me asking? Perhaps it held toomuch emotion.”

“It was my box dream,” I admitted. I’d told her about it many times before, though I always left out the part where Leviathan spoke to me. I didn’t want her thinking that was a regular occurrence.

Victoria pursed her lips. “Let us leave it there for today. Next time, I think we ought to use a slightly less perturbing memory. Something that still sparks sadness or anger or panic, but nothing quite so volatile. I did not enjoy seeing you like that. One should never be trapped inside their own mind.” She unleashed a strained breath. “I thought I was going to have to get some of the Scholars in here to try and release you or use a spell or two of my own. But I do not like to meddle in the affairs of another’s mind.”

I nodded, getting up on unsteady legs. “I’ve got to go and clean the dojo floor anyway, but I’ll make a note of this in my monster journal so I know what to avoid next time.”

“Good idea.” Victoria leaned against her desk, gripping the edges tight. I’d evidently concerned her. It was the closest to rattled I had ever seen her, and that, in turn, rattled me. If Leviathan hadn’t managed to get me to breathe, would I really have gotten stuck in my own mind? I didn’t even want to think about it, but as I left Victoria’s office, I couldn’t help but feel a surge of gratitude toward the monster who had given me this curse.

Leviathan and I were quickly developing the epitome of a love-hate relationship. Sometimes, when I needed answers, he gave me the silent treatment or became the master of evasion tactics. But then there were times when he showed up like that, making it impossible to decide what to make of him.

For now, I chose to be thankful, until he gave me a reason to hate him again.