I walk directly to my cubby. New papers clutter the desk and I've no doubts as to what they're about: my re-Evaluation.

"After what happened, I received a telegram with instructions. I had to gather background on Shaw and his rallying to see whom he may have been in contact with." Charlotte says.

"I was ordered to theorize about your situation. You know, try and develop a theory as to why the breachers are so fascinated with you. My correspondents are quite determined." Charlotte bites her lip.

Correspondents. Plural. I'll deal with that later.

"And?" I don't recognize my own voice. It's detached and demanding like I'm somehow entitled to demand.

"And... what? That's what I have been doing here," she says.

"I mean what have you found." I exhale.

"And I haven't developed anything yet. It doesn't feel right, looking into you like you might be some super powerful refugee or, or I don't know what they think!" She sighs, exasperated.

"Me? Powerful?" I laugh. "Absurd."

She shrugs. "It's happened before."

"Me being powerful?"

"No. This isn't a matter of power, as much as a refugee stirring up commotion for the C.R.I.S," says Charlotte. "They don't like commotion."

"And we can assume this is coming from the C.R.I.S., right? Or the Archives?" I crease my brow.

She lifts her shoulders again. "We can assume that, but it doesn't make it right. There's been a sort of theory circulating among the correspondents."

"A theory... What is it?" I probe.

"I told you once before that the orders and documents are all signed by numbers... one for each of the five regions." She pauses. "The other day one came across on the radio. It was a broadcast and it ended... Six."

"Six." I repeat her last word. "So you're saying.... Is the conspiracy valid? There are more locations? More centers or whatever you call them? Outside of the Five Lands?"

"I'm afraid it looks that way. And if this is true," she says, "then the instructions could be coming from anyone –from anywhere. It could even..." she trails off.

"Could even what?"

"It could be coming from them." Charlotte says 'them' with a familiar bitterness.

My stomach drops. Maybe the C.R.I.S. is not my enemy after all. Maybe it's bigger than them.

"Charlotte... who are they? Who is over there?" I make air-quotes with my hands. I'm finally asking my questions out loud, determined to get answers. "What aren't all of you telling me?"

I see the resignation in her eyes as she realizes her battle is lost. She closes her eyes, recalling her thoughts.

"After the Destruction, during the Cord Wars, the overseas was governed by a single family. They built an entire culture, blending the old ways with new practices. There was only one problem. They were believers of bloodlines. That is to say that they believed only those who survived the Destruction were worthy of living in the New Land.

"Over time, they regarded the portal as a problem. It was unnatural they said and they sought to end resurfacing for good. During the Dark Age, they hunted down refugees in mass, slaughtering them as soon as they resurfaced. They titled themselves Mactantes Malum."

"Mac-malum," I repeat.

"Roughly translated, it means Slayer."

Slayer. My gut churns.

"Bloodlines aside, why did they hate refugees so much? Something must have triggered it, no?"

"There's been countless theories, myths... legends really," Charlotte begins. "Some believe the feud started within the reigning family, that a single discord led to the centuries of fighting that would come. Others believe it's blood magic; some say it stems from a curse as old as old as the first Dark Age itself."

"A curse?" I sound skeptical, but it's because I am. "People actually believe in that?"

Near months ago, you could have asked me and I would have answered that I did not believe in such things as magic and curses. Now here I am getting a history lesson and actually taking notes.

"Evelyn, you don't understand. The world started over after the Destruction. You know this. Records have been kept and passed down through centuries, but there's no way to know what happened for sure."

"Or what didn't happen!"

"Either way, the true origin remains a mystery. Things are different now. The Resolution ended the Cord Wars and the feud died along with the Overseas' portal. People remain there, of course, but as far as I know, the original bloodline has long since died out. There's been no Slayer sightings in half a century."

"Well that makes me feel loads better, thank you. No slayers sighted on the loose! Nothing to worry about!"

"I just meant..." Charlotte exhales. "We must remain vigilant."

"Vigilant, right. I still don't see what this has all got to do with now –with me! You haven't uncovered anything, have you?"

I know she would lie to others to protect me, but would Charlotte lie to me, too?

"Well..." She trails off.

"Well what?"

Her face hardens, determinedly. "I've been watching the portal's activity. Having access to the Garners' grid has helped. William is always spot-on. I suppose that's part of why they picked me."

"Charlotte, please." I urge her on.

"Right, the grids... When you resurfaced in August... I've been looking at the pattern logs from that time and something just doesn't match up. Quantifiable activity registered in the forest surrounding the portal's perimeter. It was almost like... there was more than just the portal's power present."

"How can you be sure? I mean, how can you measure the portal's power?" I look at her. "You don't think... could it have been them?"

Her expression shifts.

"Me?" I stifle a nervous laugh.

"Oh, I don't think you had anything to do with it." She holds up her hand as to stop me. "But if the wrong operator gets his hands on that log..."

"That's exactly what they'll think." I say it to both of us. Now it's real.

"Decades of normal activity and then one day there's an off-the-charts surge and you just happen to turn up in the forest –almost made for this place... No one believes in coincidence that much."

"Because after believing in age-old curses and destiny, coincidence is where you people draw the line," I scoff.

"And there's something else you should know..." she says.

"What is it, Charlotte?"

"This... phenomenon, it's happened before. Not while I was at the Bridge, but I read over my predecessor's files. It was a case similar to this one. A boy had resurfaced and there were questions that couldn't be answered. And," she bites her lip.

"Tell me," I urge.

"The refugee was apprehended. And never seen again," she says.

My heart sinks with the gravity of her words.

"I'm the only one who has access to the logs. Only the Bridge handles the portal, or so I think. I would never turn on you, Evelyn. But sooner or later, someone is going to come looking for answers. And I won't have them when they do."

Thoughts flood through the gates that guarded my mind from the past few month's worth of knowledge... I close my eyes and see the forest. I'm back in the Pit, surrounded by nature's finest. What at first I thought was blinding sunlight fades and my eyes refocus. The sheer life force all around me is glimmering pearlescent.

"There's more than just the portal out there. There's something else, isn't there, Charlotte?"

"Yes. There is." She says it plainly, as nonchalantly as how William plucked me from the forest. "And I have no idea what it is or where it's coming from."

Charlotte and I remained in the Bridge for the rest of the afternoon. She showed me her list of new orders, most of which related to my re-Evaluation events.

Charlotte even shared her daily routine. She told me who her top prospects, or persons of interest were (no surprise I was currently ranked No. 1). I was surprised to learn that Gwyn was in the top five; apparently Garners' significant others are of interest to the folks at the Archives.

William was on the list too, a fact I found riveting. I always assumed it was only refugees Charlotte was ordered to monitor.

It was a different experience than the first time I was in the hidden room.

Her instruments are advanced even considering it's the year 2702. If there was resurfacing radar, Charlotte would have it down here. Before we left, she gave me a copy of a calendar –something I can use for my travels, although I bet she didn't intend that.

I roll out of bed and walk to the open window; the heart of winter has passed now. My room is still cozy and quiet. I replay my earlier conversation with Charlotte on a loop. Something else is out there and whatever it is, it has to do with me.

I sit Indian-style on the floor in front of the standing mirror Charlotte insisted I keep in my room. The reflection before me is distant but recognizable. Beneath the untidy waves of honey hair, I see my face. Only, this time it's as though a veil has been lifted. This time it's like I'm seeing it for the first time.

My skin has smoothed since I've been here. No more pubescent skin defections. Amen. I flatten my hair against my shirt and tuck a lose strand behind my ear. I stare into my own eyes and then, I sense it. I sense why my reflection is both foreign and familiar.

The plush, silken hair and smooth flawless skin, piercing eyes that cut into you like glass and an overall inviting demeanor –I blink until it hits me. I blink to be sure it's real.

I am staring into the face of a native.

/ / /

It's been two weeks since our rendezvous to the Bridge and so far there hasn't been any update from the Archives. Charlotte and Smyth check at the Post three times a day every day.

Over the past few weeks, William and I have reserved our planning –at least while the house is overcrowded. Still, he is incognizant of my little tweak.

Hiding things from Charlotte and Nic has been easy. They don't notice when I return to the house with spare supplies from the Refinery, which I sneak into using the hidden passageway. Nor do they find it strange that I want schedules and maps of the land.

When asked, I blame it on my curiosity. I tell them it's because I have so much free time I'm finding new ways to keep busy.

The date has not yet been set. For now, it seems I'm still staying put –and staying a refusal.

"I have to get back, I guess." Tria revives herself from the hysterical sobbing.

"Of course, yes."

We leave the porch and walk to the front door, where she engulfs me once again in a huge bear hug.

"Thank you," I tell her, but for what I am unsure.

I watch her figure disappear into a dot on the horizon.

"Not going with her?"

I jolt sideways, unaware that William appeared beside me.

"Why do you always feel the need to sneak up?" I gripe.

"Listen, Ev." An anxious line replaces his smile.

"What is it? Is–" I begin, but am suspended mid-sentence.

"Word's come..." He hesitates, tugging off his heavy jacket. "From the Archives."

"And?" I press, now curious.

He turns away. Oh no.

"And?" I raise my voice. It becomes firm, more so than I expected. I grab his arm. "Is it about my do-over re-Evaluation? Did the C.R.I.S. set a date?"

"No, Evelyn. They're not setting a date... because there isn't going to be another re-Evaluation."

I shake my head but I know what his next words will be.

"They're coming for you."

"What?" What does he mean coming for me?

The Archives doesn't just pluck people out of Kemper.

I open my mouth, poised to dissent, but William cuts me off again.

"The Archives has rules. I don't know who governs them but what I do know is they aren't in the business of negotiating. The Garners can protect you for now, but there's no telling for how long. It seems we've reached an impasse."

The word lingers.

"This is hardly an impasse, William. There's got to be something –anything –we can do," I urge.

"Evelyn," he sighs, his demeanor changing. "You made the list."

List? What list? Charlotte's list? He isn't supposed to know anything about that!

"What list?" I try to sound surprised.

"I don't know. A list. They have lists –with names of interest –people, refugees, and refusals who are..." his voice breaks off again.

"Who are what?" My voice is sharp.

"Threats."

Me? A threat. "That's insane." I immediately think of the unexplained activity surrounding the portal on the morning I resurfaced.

"Evelyn, I know it is and Charlotte and Nic know it is. But this has gotten out of hand. They're making an example out of you."

"An example?" I ask.

"Going after a refugee who lives with two Garners sends a powerful message to all refusals out there. People out west have been ganging up. They're looking to settle a vendetta that stretches far beyond the events of your re-Evaluation," he says.

"So what? They just come for me? They exile me because of it, because of those crazy people?" My cheeks heat up. I think of Charlotte's list of prospects. I topped that chart too. Always number one.

"Yes. They come," he whispers.

"What happens then? I leave with them? They tell me what to do and where to go from here–" I panic.

"No. They aren't looking to make arrangements. I'm afraid what they're after is far less harmonious."

"Will they brand me a refusal? Send me to the Rock?" I blurt out the words.

"There is no knowing what they will do. You must leave Kemper on your own terms," he says.

"Then–" I pause.

"Tonight. It needs to be tonight."

"Tonight." I nod, my nerves building. "William, are we ready for this?"

"A few discrepancies here and there, but the plan will pull through. Yesterday the snow stopped. It will make things easier for us. No need for this." He clenches his Garner jacket in his fist.

"But–" I begin.

"Evelyn, whatever you may believe of Kemper or destiny bringing you here, or whatever it may be... It is happening." William recites.

I raise my brow, waiting for more.

"It's happening now. It's starting now," he insists.

"But what will they think? Nic and–"

"The Garners have heard whispers from Overseas..." His voice turns cold –the way it always does at the mention of Bristol. "We've tried to keep it quiet but the extremists –they're antagonizing Sycoma."

"I don't understand. How does anything going on Overseas have anything to do with my trial?" I cringe at the word, but remind myself that's just what it is –a trial.

"It has everything to do with it. I'm just not sure how to explain now. I cannot say with certainty what they plan to do with you. Evelyn, you cannot allow the C.R.I.S. to use you in whatever game they're playing at. You are not a pawn at their disposal." He sounds worried. For me.

I consider this, the weight of what he's proposing. I haven't had much time to explore the possibilities, even with the recent discoveries. I suppose I had always hoped it would resolve itself.

But I made the list. I repeat his words in my head.

What list, whose list –I'm unsure. All I'm certain of is my boiling distaste for the breachers.

"What do I do?" I swallow.

"The only comfort I can offer is my advice. I'm afraid the rest is up to you," says William.

"Then I need to make a choice. But I don't know what to do, I mean–"

"Choices do not define us. A choice is worth nothing if you do not have the courage to act upon it." William pulls me toward him.

I nod. This makes sense. I know what needs to be done. I just need to find the strength to do it.

"Tonight." The word is quiet on my lips. I can't tell if I'm asking or saying or confirming.

"It needs to be tonight," William says again.

"Are you sure about this, William?" I peer into his soothing blue eyes and my gut tells me he is.

He stares at me with a fervent look in his eye, the kind of look that awakens something inside.

"Tonight."