Tayte wants me to choose one of his daughters for reversion. What’s the plan for the other one? No clue what sick game he’s playing, but I’m not interested in playing with him. Weirdly, he thinks I’ll consider it. “You can’t be serious.”

“I’m deadly serious,” he confirms. “They’re Rebels with loyalty only to the cause. This benefits the cause.”

“They don’t look like willing sacrifices.”

“They rarely are.”

The immediate prospect is tempting, but despite my opinion of either of them, they don’t deserve to have this change thrust upon them. Personal choice is something I hold in high regard. Reversion is a personal choice. I won’t take that away from anyone. It’s wrong.

He yanks Cathain out by her hair. She thrashes and fights him until he plops her in one of the chairs, using rope to secure her. He repeats the sequence for Alexandria with disturbing apathy. He’s absolutely calm, making the whole scene all the more unsettling.

“They’re two of your finest resources. Terminating them can’t be in the best interest of the cause.”

“It’s in my best interest,” he notes. “They’ve expended their usefulness.”

During my first stay at Hotel Looking Glass, Tayte put them in the line of fire so he wouldn’t have to get his hands dirty. Evidently, that’s still the case. He wants me to finish what he can’t be bothered to. “They’re your daughters.”

“They were never my daughters. They were failed experiments.” Their resignation to his admission is disheartening.

“Your failed experiments,” I fire back. “Whatever failure exists is a direct result of your leadership inadequacies. Not theirs.”

“They’ve failed to live up to the potential I offered them.”

“They put their faith in you, and you failed them.”

“I’ve done no such thing, though they’ve regrettably failed me.”

“How did they fail you? By not following you blindly? How long did you expect them to stay in the dark?”

“As long as I wanted them to.”

“You should be celebrating your lead by example success,” I offer. “They do what they want, when they want, and for whatever reason they see fit to. Just. Like. You.”

“They see only their petty hatred for you. They can’t see the bigger picture, what you’re meant to provide me. I won’t have my opportunity interfered with, not by anyone.”

I honestly doubt he’s concerned about my safety. I’m an experiment he’ll terminate when he’s finished studying me, same as he plans to do with them.

“This experiment is a misfire. You can’t use the energy I take. That’s all you wanted from this, or are you hoping to fail some more at genetic modification? Creating life means creating living, breathing beings capable of independent thoughts and actions. You can set the conditions, but what comes from that isn’t something you have any control over.”

Stolen from its rightful author, this tale is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“Is this the beginning of a nature versus nurture speech?” He sighs. “Those don’t apply here. I fostered the perfect environment for their existence.”

There’s no sentiment in his expression. No sorrow or remorse for what he intends. Certainly no love. There’s only disgust and hot garbage annoyance.

“This one.” He points to Cathain. “She’s physically strong, as I wanted her to be. Her body is flawless in every way, but her mind is weak.”

Cathain looks at the floor below her.

“And this one—” He blows out a breath and points to Alexandria. “She can’t even decide who she wants to be. She’s erratic, uncontrolled, and therefore uncontrollable. She can’t harness a single one of her abilities effectively because she can’t cope with any single one of them individually.”

“You were the one who created them. It isn’t their failures you see when you look at them. It’s your own reflected back at you. Maybe if you stopped looking at them as dolls and started looking at them more as what they are, you could find the value you’re overlooking. You can’t just get rid of them if they’re not what you want them to be.”

“Don’t you understand? They weren’t anything more than dolls. Husks. Empty shells. There’s nothing more to see. The only thing they were good for was doing as they were told. Since they can’t even manage that small task, I no longer need them. These assets, no longer assets, will be terminated.”

“You can’t create sentient beings and assume blind allegiance. What have you done to earn that?”

“They were meant to be my prime personal achievement. They were meant to fill the hole my son dug into my heart by converting me, further deepening the well with his eternal self-loathing. You fancy me a monster, and you’re probably right, but these two things were not created for the sole purpose of experimenting on elemental boundaries. They were meant to be connected to me in ways I lost the ability to see once I was converted. They were meant to be loved.”

“You couldn’t love them?”

“No.”

“Did you even try?”

“You’re new to this influx of feeling, Sheyla. Imagine enduring it for lifetimes. Now multiply that by millions. I experience the abilities of everyone around me. I can hold them at will. That requires a special kind of control, the likes of which you can’t comprehend. That left no room for love. You were ready to run in a matter of a few weeks due to the emotions you were forced to experience from the people you love. Could you tolerate it eternally?”

He’s right. After two weeks in lockdown, I was smothered by emotions, and they were coming from the people I care most about. I should’ve felt content. Instead, I felt trapped. A constant influx from strangers? No way I could handle that.

There’s a major difference, though. I struggle to maintain control of my emotions for fear of what’ll happen if I don’t. He has no such fear. He has no emotions. Total sociopath by necessity. Why is it a necessity? Easy explanation. He’s being bombarded by variables while trying desperately to maintain himself as the control in his experimental existence. Like Kiley, he’s invisible, only in a unique way. He’ll never see his own face staring back at him. It’ll always be someone else.

“It’s not too late. They’re still breathing. They’re still here. They’re still everything you’ve made them to be. It’s not too late to turn it around.”

“Come now, Sheyla. Feigned optimism doesn’t suit you. It’s rather insulting to your intelligence. They’ve outlived their usefulness.”

Fair point, but I’m not faking optimism, just trying to evacuate these idiots off his hill. “Them expressing independent thought is part of getting what you wanted,” I remind him. “You wanted to feel connected to your children. That’s why you created them. What if you could feel connected to them now? Look at them! They’re terrified. They’re heartbroken you’d so easily cast them aside. Everything they do is to please you.”

“You should be thanking me. If I removed the ties binding them, they’d gladly destroy you in the same breath you’re using to defend them.”

Yeah, well, we might be having a forced reversion, after all. Definitely rethinking my moral mandate. Big ole non-consensual reversion party. Times three. If I revert them all, they may have a chance for what they clearly can’t in their Sumair state. Authentic human connection. Maybe they can fight for a new cause and experiment with something a little less complex than utter Solathair annihilation.

“What if I reverted you all?”