Vanessa laid against her bed frame for the simple reason that she had nothing else to do. In her lap, laid her journal adorned with webs of names. She had linked every vessel she had to their known companions and had bridged out from there. She had finished a couple of minutes ago.

Of course, the names were written in a code. It was a modified version of a code language that she and Warren had used in the past—modified enough that he couldn't even read it if he tried. Of course, that wasn't a threat considering he had probably died by now. Vanessa pushed that thought away and returned to her map.

The immense connection she had her pen on dwarfed all the others on the page. Gloria Larsen—agent in the Society's inner circle, grandmother to the Sorenson kids, and a Knight. Vanessa had yet to spill. She wouldn't give her captors everything she had, even if she had completely defected to their side. Trust went two ways. She had already unearthed most of her secrets, she deserved to keep a few hidden.

Footsteps soon joined the tapping of her pen, and she sat straight up. Around the bend, Warren arrived—with a mane and a beard to rival Santa Claus—but most importantly, he was alive. Alive. Relief and hope overwhelmed her heart and mind in a way she hadn't felt in years. Alive, alive, alive.

Vanessa rushed to the bars, laughing wildly. The dark scaffolding of her grief collapsed under the weight of his absurd survival. His miraculous appearance prompted mirth, relief, and joy, fueling a smile she couldn't dampen. This could only mean one thing. "The mission succeeded!"

Warren nodded. He smiled at her, a simple thing of his she had forgotten. "I heard you were the one who found the Translocator's location."

"I was." Vanessa brimmed with joy. I did good. I was good. I'm invaluable. Recognize this. Keep me. "I knew you needed it."

She felt lighter than she had in months. He looked so different. He felt so familiar. Vanessa refrained from grasping onto the bars like a marooned sailor, as they were already inches apart, separated by just the cell. She wanted to touch him, feel his face, make sure he was really, really there.

Warren tilted his head, running his hands through his long hair as he paused. "Thanks. I don't think I could've continued eating granola."

"Of course. I'm glad you're back." Her words bounced on clouds. She stepped back from the bars and gestured to her cell. "You're welcome to come in. It's cozy."

Warren raised a hand in decline. "I can't. I'm actually here to give you a new directive."

Vanessa's stomach dropped. Both at the casual decline and his sharp frown. She raised her eyebrow. "Oh?"

More questions arised from that. How long had he been back? Would he have visited her if not on business? What—

"Seth's missing," Warren said. "Captured by Mirav."

Oh. Oh.

"Mirav?" Vanessa exclaimed. What the fuck? They were unearthing legends now?

"Torina Barker shot Seth with an arrow, through the stomach. He turned gaseous to survive so he couldn't use the Translocator. Mirav captured him in a bottle." Warren picked at the edge of his fingernails—a bad habit he had evidently yet to quit—as he methodically told a report that had obviously been relayed to him earlier.

She covered her mouth with a hand. Dread sank Vanessa's stomach. Too many thoughts abounded. They should have never sent Seth—a child. If they had wanted dark magic on the mission, they should've taken her. Stupid. She should have fought against Stan on that point harder.

Secondly, less crucially, Torina had shot a child fatally? Vanessa shook her head in disbelief. Sometimes you didn't know people like you thought you did. Especially agents. Vanessa winced. Was this what Warren felt?

That thought weighed too heavily, so Vanessa turned her back on Warren and retreated into her cell. She picked up her open journal and scanned the pages. Her eyes lingered on the connection between Torina Barker and her servant (someone Vanessa had bit many years ago), but she flipped past it. The Society wouldn't keep Seth in a flimsy prison designed by Torina. She could remember that connection for revenge, later, though.

Vanessa flipped to the last page, where her pen had been tapping earlier. They would've hidden Seth in the most secretive, high-security prison owned by the Society. A place only an inner-circle member—someone like Gloria Larsen—would know the location of.

Vanessa looked up at Warren, determination and despair in each deep crack of his face.

Her will wavered; her conviction to herself and only herself failing the longer she watched Warren's eyes wander, lost in grief.

The secret of Gloria Larsen remained Vanessa's final ticket out of here. It needed to be played precisely and decisively.

But, would she hold out when she could most likely use it to rescue Seth? Two sides of her brain warred with the other. Vanessa couldn't take the splitting indecision. She needed time to figure this out. But in the meantime...

"Tell Stan that I have one secret left that could work out well for us." Vanessa snapped the book shut. "But, we'll wait to use it until the time is ripe. For now, I'll pursue leads around Mirav. I'll find Seth."

She turned away, mind already whirring away on how to locate the boy swiftly and effectively.

"Vanessa?"

Surprised at his curious tone, Vanessa turned back to Warren. "Yeah?"

"What secret do you have left?"

Her spine straightened. "We'll just have to wait to find out." She walked back to the bars of her cell, curling her fingers around the steel. Her lips parted and she looked up at him through her eyelashes. "But, my mind could be jogged with some fresh air and a change of scenery. Maybe a jailbreak even."

Warren sent her a disapproving look. His lips pinched and he raised an eyebrow, the lines of his face lined with disappointment.

She dropped her hands from the bar and scoffed. "Don't give me that. I'm doing so much for you guys while in a cell that you all have the keys to. Be grateful I'm not more bitter."

Warren sighed and stepped away from the bars of her cell. "I'll let them know."

"Thank you. And Warren?"

He paused his exit. "Yeah?"

"Stop disappearing without warning. It's bad for Dale's blood pressure."

He laughed, and she watched his back fade away, running her arms over each other, squeezing, mimicking a phantom hug she hadn't attempted in a long time.

He's alive. He's alive. He's alive. He's alive...