Chapter 8 What The Amulet Won't Say

• "You want me to do what?"
• Rhett's request hung in the air between us, and even saying it out loud seemed to make him second-guess it. "Take it off," he said again, quieter this time. "The amulet. Just for a few minutes. See if anything comes."
• "Do you understand what you're asking?"
• "I understand my brother is lying in the healer's wing with a hole in his shoulder because someone got close enough to attack him in broad daylight." His voice was steady, but his hands weren't, flexing at his sides like he needed something to do with them. "I need to know what's coming next."
• We were still in the quiet corridor, the noise from the courtyard long faded, just the two of us and the low hum of torches along the stone walls. I wrapped my fingers around the amulet, feeling its familiar weight, and thought about every night I'd spent afraid of what waited on the other side of taking it off.
• "It's not that simple," I said. "I can't control what I see. Sometimes it's nothing. Sometimes it's something from years ago that already happened. It's not a switch."
• "But you saw Silas before it happened."
• "Once. And I didn't see enough to stop it." My throat tightened. "I don't know how this works, not really. I've just been trying to survive it."
• Rhett was quiet for a moment, studying me with an intensity that felt different than before, less suspicion now, more like he was actually seeing me for the first time. "Then we figure it out together," he said. "I'm not asking you to do this alone anymore."
• Something in my chest loosened at that, small and unexpected. Nobody had ever offered to carry this with me before.
• "Not now," I said. "Not here. If I take it off in a hallway and something happens, I won't be able to hide it. People will ask questions."
• "Then where?"
• I thought about it, my mind racing through the little I knew of the campus so far. "The healer's archive. Professor Hale's private study room. Nobody goes in there after hours."
• Rhett nodded once, decisive. "Tonight. After curfew."
• "Rhett—"
• "I need answers, Wren. My brother needs answers." His jaw tightened. "Please."
• I'd never heard him say please before, not in the two days I'd known him, and something about the word breaking through his usual coldness made it impossible to say no.
• "Tonight," I agreed.
• The archive smelled like old paper and dried herbs, shelves stretching floor to ceiling with texts older than the school itself. Rhett had gotten us in with a key I didn't ask questions about, and now we stood in the dim candlelight, the door locked behind us.
• My hands trembled as I reached for the clasp.
• "You don't have to," Rhett said, watching me closely. "If this is too much—"
• "It's fine." It wasn't, but I needed him to believe I could handle it, mostly because I needed to believe it myself.
• The clasp gave way, and the amulet slid free into my palm, cool and light without the weight of ten years pressed against my skin. For a moment, nothing happened. The room stayed still, candlelight flickering steady against the shelves.
• Then the world tilted sideways.
• I saw the training yard again, except different this time, night instead of day, moonlight instead of sun. A figure moved through the shadows near the sparring ring, and this time I caught a glimpse of a hand, pale, gripping something metal. Then Dahlia's voice, sharp and furious, echoing from somewhere I couldn't place. Then darkness, and a name I couldn't quite catch, slipping away the second I reached for it.
• I gasped and stumbled back into the shelf behind me, and Rhett caught my arm before I could fall.
• "Wren." His voice sounded far away. "Wren, look at me."
• The room snapped back into focus, candlelight and old paper and Rhett's hand steady on my arm. I fastened the amulet back around my neck with shaking fingers, my breath coming too fast.
• "What did you see?" he asked.
• "The training yard, but at night. Someone was there again." I pressed a hand to my chest, willing my heart to slow. "I heard your... I heard Dahlia's voice. I couldn't tell if she was part of it or just nearby."
• Rhett's expression darkened. "Dahlia hates you. You really think she'd have anything to do with this?"
• "I don't know. It wasn't clear. It's never clear." Frustration cracked through my voice. "I saw a hand holding something metal, and I heard a name, but it slipped away before I could catch it."
• "That's not enough to go on."
• "I know that." I closed my eyes, trying to hold onto the fading pieces before they disappeared completely. "Something's guiding these visions. They've never come this clear before, this fast, one after another. It's like something's pushing them toward me."
• Rhett went very still. "Pushing them how?"
• "I don't know. I just know it doesn't feel random anymore." I looked up at him, and the fear must have shown plain on my face, because his expression softened again, that same careful gentleness from before.
• "We'll figure it out," he said. "Whatever this is, whoever's behind it, we'll find them before they get close to Silas again."
• "You believe me," I said quietly. "Completely, now."
• "I watched my brother almost die two days after you warned me something would happen to him." His hand was still on my arm, warm even through my sleeve. "I'd be a fool not to believe you."
• The candlelight flickered between us, and for a moment neither of us moved, the weight of everything we'd just shared settling into something that felt dangerously close to trust.
• "We should go," I said finally, my voice barely above a whisper. "Before someone notices we're missing."
• Rhett nodded, but he didn't let go of my arm right away, and when he finally did, his fingers lingered a second too long against my sleeve, like he wasn't quite ready to break the connection between us either.