The world goes black the moment I leave the portal.

"What the fuck?" The words tumble out of me. I reach out. I think. My head starts to spin. 

Sounds start to pool together, muddling and merging and bleeding into one another. Ivory's bright laugh. Raelyn's distant sighing. A syrupy smooth, lyrical voice.

I'm dimly aware of myself tumbling forward. My limbs splay out across the cool ground. My cheek lands against cold metal. I wonder, distantly, if this is what dying feels like. 

"Someone grab them," I hear Ivory call, but now her voice is warped and distorted and scratchy and suddenly oh so terrible. 

Strong hands close around my shoulders. I tense up at the touch, panicking. "What are you—"

"Jaime, dear." Ivory's voice has me shuddering. "Just relax for now, okay?" 

And now everything is soft and plush and warm. I slump against the ground, but it no longer feels unwelcoming. Where am I now? Does it really matter? My eyelids feel weighted, dropping down against my will. Someone picks me up off the ground, and I fall unconscious. 

Compared to the empty darkness of my dreams, the harsh ceiling lights are an unwelcome sight. 

"How are you feeling?" Ivory asks, seemingly concerned.

I blink a few times, trying to regain my bearings. "I. Uh."

The portal. The bodies. Ivory Spiers—

My mouth is dry and my head is pounding and every bone in my body aches and despite having slept for god knows how long, I'm still so, so tired.

"Fine," I snap. "Where am I?"

"Headquarters," Ivory replies with a small smile. "I know you must have a million questions, but right now we're focusing on you."

"Nuh-uh." I shake my head immediately. "I want answers. I need to know what I just signed up for."

"Later," Ivory says. "For now..." she swipes her hand along the table's surface, and that's when I realize that I'm in a room almost identical to the one I interrogated Ivory in. 

Same setup—the metal table, the perfect cube shape, the smooth walls. The only differences are that this room is completely flooded with light, and I'm not handcuffed to the table. 

Oh, and there's no door in sight.

So that's fun. 

I thought the table was metal, but it's clearly not. Its surface lights up at Ivory's touch. She smiles at me as a blue glow washes over her. I stand up and lean over, trying to catch a glimpse of whatever's on Ivory's side, and am surprised to a collection of digital files. Long strings of numbered data. Torn sections of articles. 

And it all seems to be about me. 

My breath catches in my throat. 

Just how long have they been targeting me for?

Ivory seems unbothered as I scan over the data. For the sake of the listening device, I ask unsteadily, "Is this all focused on me?"

"Mhm," Ivory mumbles absently, swiping from one file to the next. "Okay, so..." a quick pinch of her fingers, and she enlarges the text. "Yes! Perfect. There we go. If you could please sit down, that'd be great." 

I take my seat reluctantly, knee bouncing anxiously. "Okay," I say. "What is..." I trail off. What am I even supposed to ask here? "What's all of this?"

Ivory ignores my question. "Jaime Collyn," she says simply. 

And something about her saying my full name sends a shiver running down my spine. 

"That's me," I reply. 

"One of the most esteemed Special Operatives in all of Belledge. Trained since birth. You've successfully pulled off one hundred and seventeen operations and taken down twenty three separate groups and organizations. And yet..." the corner of Ivory's mouth quirks up into a smile. "There's no record anywhere of you having any kind of magic."

I swallow nervously. Almost all of the information Ivory rattled off is supposed to be confidential. The public isn't even supposed to know about my existence. 

But then again, Ivory doesn't quite fit in with the definition of 'public,' so. 

I probably shouldn't be surprised. 

"I don't have any magic," I lie. Well, it's kind of a half-lie, I guess. I have magic. I just can't really... use it. 

"Right." Ivory's tone is disbelieving, and yet she doesn't ask any follow up questions, keeping her eyes trained on the table's surface and scrolling through pages of god knows what.

I squirm uncomfortably in my seat. I've done a million of these interrogations. I know how they go. I know exactly what she's trying to get me to do. I should be able to get through this. 

And yet, as the silence builds and swells, as the white walls close in on me and starts to choke me, as the faint sound of Ivory's fingernails scratching against the table magnifies until it's the only thing I can focus on...

"I don't have magic!" I repeat, more emphatically this time. "And stop using your weird vampire hypnosis on me."

Ivory's head snaps up, gaze locking with mine. She grins. "Oh, I'm not doing anything," she replies. "You're just anxious. So." She shuts off the tabletop files. "We both know your fancy government people love their fun magical weapons. Why'd they keep you around for so long if you're nothing special?"

My jaw tenses up at the words nothing special. "I'm a good operative," I shrug. "A good spy. You've seen my record. You know what I've done. I'm one of the best. Would be pretty stupid of them not to keep me around." 

"Okay," Ivory says slowly. "But no magic? Not even the watered-down nursery spells they teach kids? No witchcraft? Not even a little bit of precognition?"

"Nope," I reply indignantly. And I hate this—this feeling, as if I have something to prove. I haven't felt like this in years.

"Bullshit." Ivory looks me up and down. "We both know that's bullshit. So c'mon. What could you possibly be hiding?"

Oh, so much, I think. I square my shoulders and look Ivory dead in the eyes. "I'm not hiding anything." 

Ivory leans back in her chair. A smug smile plays at her lips, and I hate it so, so much. I brace myself for her siren's voice, for whatever she plans on throwing at me next.

I'm not prepared for her to stand up and tell me simply, "Okay. I believe you."

"I—what?" I stand up too, and glance around the room uncertainly.

Ivory presses her hand against a section of wall panelling. It splits open, revealing a rough-hewn stone tunnel. So we're underground, then. She gestures towards it.

"I believe you," she repeats, eyes twinkling mischievously. "Your room should be just down there, along with anything else you might need. You should get some sleep. You look like you need it desperately."

"Okay," I say slowly, wondering if somehow, I really pulled that off. As unsettling as the look in her eyes is. 

"See you in a bit, Jaime!" Ivory calls as I step into the tunnel.

The wall panel slides shut before I have the chance to say anything back.