Pan opened her door and entered her small room. She found a finished drawing, laid atop her bed. Pencils littered her table, and she spotted a few new erasers but not the one she’d worn down to a nub. It always got lost. Other sketches lay scattered, set out in a kind of collage, a comparison of her work, a study to determine which were the best. More a competition really, as Pan would attempt to color the best pictures.

She glanced back and saw no one in the hall, so she closed her door and got to work.

Telekinetically, she lifted every displaced object. Pencils, erasers, pictures – all floated into the air. They shook, and Pan knew she needed more practice and control. But, she wasn’t a telekinetic. She was a ghost seer. At least, she had to pretend to be.

Pan took a deep breath. She could lift a lot but not with much precision. Now, Pan worked on that precision. She stacked the drawings and stowed the pencils. She gathered the erasers and found the rogue nub. When Pan got close enough, she set everything down and finished the job with her hands. She had little to do but set the drawings in folders and put everything back in drawers.

Pan sat down and put her chin in her hands. She hoped Sotir wouldn’t spy on her this night. She felt he would honor her request. To be on the safe side, she should just stop telekinesis, but she didn’t want to.

Why couldn’t she have found a telekinetic to start? If only she’d had arcanerty earlier or later. She could have been a telekinetic or a healer. She could have been something meaningful – someone that helped others before it was too late.

Pan focused on a small sparkling pen. She released one hand from beneath her chin and drew a lazy circle in the air. She rotated the sparkling pen around and around. It slid over the desk.

Pan had been telekinetic for four years. At the age of twenty, she came upon a botched job on the city’s edge. Pan found a dead telekinetic; Nella had been her name. Nella, of course, had the poor luck to die right in front of Pan. Before the girl’s spirit could take form, Pan decided to take her power. Why not? Why not see how the other half lived?

Only a reaper could know. Now, Pan knew, and she thought there really might be something to the good-bad power divide.

She remembered the day. The smell of fire polluted the air, and Pan followed her instinct. She honed in on the dead and dying. She saw the body and just knew that Nella was gone. Sirens sounded, and Pan waited no time at all. She stooped and touched Nella. She felt the power enter her body like a rush of water.

Then, the telekinesis manifested. Everything, including Nella’s body, flew into the air and stayed suspended. Pan stood amid an assortment of items, all hovering in the air as if frozen in time.

She remembered the panic she felt as she struggled to turn that power off. She thought she was done, that everyone would know her for a reaper. But Pan got the telekinesis under control in record time. She managed to set everything down before the authorities arrived. Nella landed several feet from where she’d died, but no one was the wiser.

Just like that, Pan had one of the good powers.

But, she shouldn’t use it, especially given Sotir’s fascination with her.

Pan looked at her hands. Was she like the other reapers? She didn’t think so. Reaping itself didn’t have to be bad. She hadn’t murdered anyone. Could she be called a scavenger for picking on Nella? Probably. Yet, Nella died before Pan reached her, so maybe, Pan was neither vulture nor murderer.

The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

Screams from outside reached Pan’s ears. Happy screams. Pan stood and crossed to her window. She looked out and saw some of the girls leave with arcane men. It seemed they would continue the party their way.

She shook her head. “Arcane whores.”

Pan exited her room and headed down to the first level where she would find the mentors. Pan planned to tell Brynn. After all, Brynn was supposed to be on duty tonight as per Katiuscia’s assertions. Let Brynn rescue the teenage innocence. Then, Pan would walk back towards Sotir’s room and meet him halfway. The thirty minutes would probably be up by then.

Pan stalked through the hall and looked left and right. She always kept watch for spirits. She never saw them inside the Arcane’s Complex, but there would be a first time for everything.

In a doorway, stood a man. Pan jumped.

“Just me.”

Pan sighed and caught her breath. “Sotir. I thought you needed thirty minutes.”

Sotir shook his head. “I didn’t.”

Pan frowned. “What is it?”

Sotir focused on the hall behind her. He didn’t meet her eyes.

She glanced back. Nothing in the hall could hold his interest: not the shadows of trees or the closed doors. Sotir saw something arcane, and judging from his mood, it seemed grim.

“During the stories, I saw something. I wanted to look a little deeper, but I can’t.” Sotir’s eyes finally found Pan.

She looked left and right. “Something about me?” She pointed at her chest.

“Tomorrow, you’ll meet a spirit. I don’t see anything about you after that moment. I can’t decide if you’ll die or be taken someplace that is not of this world.”

“I won’t go out tomorrow,” Pan joked. She prayed someone had put Sotir up to this little conversation. The more she looked at his stern face, the more she knew that wasn’t the case.

Sotir continued, “Perhaps, neither option will occur. Perhaps, I see a lack of future for you because your future is undecided beyond that point. But, I thought I should tell you.” Sotir’s eyes darted from Pan’s face to the ground. “To see something, followed by nothing...it’s concerning.”

Pan’s heart started to speed up. “So, tomorrow I can expect to die, be dragged into the netherworld, or...?”

“Experience a major life change,” Sotir supplied.

Pan’s heart raced. She felt her cheeks grow warm. “I wish you never told me that. How do you expect me to sleep tonight? Couldn’t this have waited till the morning?”

“I…” Sotir took Pan’s hand. He finally focused on her and not the vision. “I’m worried about you. I wouldn’t let anything happen to you if it was in my power to prevent.”

Pan looked at her captured hand. She felt herself flush. “What are you doing?” She pulled her hand away.

A hint of rose entered Sotir’s grey complexion. “Let’s skip the pretend. Please, it’s my birthday.” He tried to reclaim Pan’s hand.

She turned away. Her eagerness to tattle on the fleeing teenagers evaporated. “Get out of the women’s side of the barracks before you get caught.”

“No.”

Pan glanced back. “Go.”

Sotir frowned. “Tell your mentors. First thing in the morning. You shouldn’t go out.”

Pan huffed. “As if they can protect me.”

Sotir and Pan spent a tense moment. She looked over her shoulder. He took a step closer. He had a strange look in his eyes, and if he followed Pan, he would be headed in the wrong direction to escape the mentors and the women’s barracks. He didn’t seem to care. Pan’s eyes widened. She hurried away.

He never chased her, but she acted like he had. She returned to her room and locked it. She found her small bathroom, and a prescription sleep aid – not a pill, something stronger. Pan injected herself and laid down on her bed.

She prayed for the sleep aide to take her away before she had to think anymore. The more she thought about it, the more she realized none of Sotir’s options left her much room for comfort.

Dying would obviously put a damper on the rest of her life, especially at the hands of a vengeful ghost. Being dragged into the netherworld would be hell, a constant stream of terror. And, what decision could she possibly make that would take her off Sotir’s map?

Worse yet – should she have allowed herself a night of bliss given the possibility of her demise?

Pan fell asleep. She was glad Sotir could see nothing of her for the moment, but she worried he might look a little deeper, a little later. That would be worst of all.