Reversed

lii. fifty-two

The trees blurred. The ground spun.

No.

Sophie swayed.

"No."

Ruy flinched. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"No."

He pinched his lips together.

"You're lying."

"I'm not, Sophie."

"Yes you are. You're trying to get me to come back."

"I wish that were true."

Sophie sank to her knees. No.

It made so much sense, though.

She couldn't use her abilities anymore. She could barely even transmit.

It made so much sense, and yet . . .

"How?" she whispered.

Ruy crouched down, still several paces away. The regret in his eyes would've knocked her back a step if it wasn't already so hard to breathe.

"It's a failsafe." he rubbed his head. "Gisela had Gethen implant it in case something like this—" he gestured around, indicating the Black Swan's hideout—"happened."

Sophie swallowed. "The night they took me. The Black Swan. That's when it first started." She hugged her arms.

Ruy nodded, looking like he wanted to come closer, but not daring to. "That's why I told you to tell me the second you started losing short-term memories. That's the first sign."

"The second?" Sophie asked.

"Intense pain whenever you try to use your abilities."

"And the third?"

"There is no third. They're gone."

Sophie opened up a trembling hand. Her Telepathy. Her Polyglot abilities. Teleportation. Inflicting. Enhancing.

All gone. Like they never existed.

She never knew how much she'd leaned on them. How much they were apart of her.

And now . . .

It felt like something fundamental had been ripped away, leaving a gaping hole in her soul.

She could already feel it—the cold in her hands where they used to tingle with warmth, the silence of the world, the thick knot of emotions in her ribcage not being able to be let out.

Gone.

But . . . "That can't be possible. My abilities are woven into my DNA."

Ruy shook his head. "I don't know how. Gisela didn't let anyone besides herself, Vespera, and Gethen in on the project—something about needing their specific abilities. They called it Project Reversed. To think that they could change something so fundamental—" he shook his head again. "I don't know."

Despair ripped a wide, gaping hole inside of her, and Sophie hung on to the edge, battling to keep from falling in. But each minute was getting harder and harder.

She didn't know how long she could keep doing this.

The Neverseen would never let her go.

She'd been wrong before—they weren't only two, three steps ahead. No, they were playing a whole different game.