The third night Trace met with Alexis was different than the others.

When he opened his eyes, he didn't see the typical white canvas of the dream space. Instead, the landscape was dark and unfamiliar. A chill wafted around him, blowing his hair around his face. The breeze swirled between his legs and brushed against his chest, and that's when he realized he was naked.

His hands patted his body frantically to confirm this, and then flew to his legs. Despite his skin prickling with goosebumps, the heat in his cheeks flared. Even in such a dark space, he felt like someone was watching him.

But wait, this was still a dream. If Alexis could snap her fingers to bring things into existence, couldn't Trace?

He lifted his hand and faced it toward himself, though he couldn't see a thing. Then, he closed his eyes, thought about the dreamscape as white, and that he was dressed in his Phantom uniform. Once this thought solidified, he swiped his thumb across his middle finger.

A rush of wind rushed over his body and clothes materialized over him, wrapping around his arms, chest, and legs. When he opened his eyes, the dreamscape was the familiar white.

He turned to his right and the little girl—dressed in white—was curled into a ball on the ground. She wasn't in his last dream, was she? He couldn't remember. But she was cowering next to him now, her tiny body helpless in this endless expanse.

Trace pitied her. If she was indeed someone real, why had she been dragged into his dream? Into his training with Alexis?

As he continued staring, her body continued to shrink. Her hands cupped over her ears to block out any sound. The dreamscape was eerily silent. Maybe that meant if any noise corrupted the pure space, it would be amplified.

"Hey, are you okay?" Trace asked in an attempt to comfort her. She tightened her hands around her ears, almost to the point of crushing them. This reaction filled Trace with a deep regret, but he couldn't figure out why.

He reached down to her carefully, not necessarily knowing what he would do if she accepted his comfort. Last time, he'd pulled her close to protect her. But from what? Alexis? Trace knew an Escort wouldn't harm someone they weren't ordered to.

As his hand got closer to her, he felt a strange force resisting his reach. Almost like an invisible being was shielding the girl, pushing him back. But he persisted, broke through, and reached her. If this was another test, surely he'd passed.

The second his finger grazed her small back, she removed her hands, flipped around, and looked at Trace. Her blue eyes were bloodshot and wide with horror. Her tiny face was pale and sunken, aging. And then she screamed.

It was such a loud and chilling scream, going on for what seemed like an eternity. It echoed and whipped through the dreamscape, crowding around Trace's ears and invading his thoughts. It was a death cry, so severe and desperate and vulnerable that Trace was struck motionless. His legs collapsed beneath him as his ears continued to absorb the sound of her continuous shriek.

And then the sound suddenly stopped, leaving behind a deafening silence. Trace's ears were hot and pounded as the blood rushing in them returned to other areas of the body.

When he was mobile again, he instinctively turned toward the girl, but she was no longer alive.

Her body was twisted to the side and freshly painted with red. A gash in her neck continued to soak the white of her dress and the ground beneath her. She was certainly dead, but why had she died? Did her neck burst from her intense scream?

Alexis appeared behind the body, her eyebrows angled downward. Her eyes glowed a brilliant, sparkling gold as she scowled at him. In her hand, she carried a long black shaft. As Trace's eyes traveled up the length of it, he realized that she was carrying a scythe. The crescent blade was sharp and would've been difficult to look at in the brightness of the white space if it hadn't been for the crimson streak across its surface.

Trace's lips trembled as he looked between Alexis, the blade, and child she'd killed. A pain eroded his heart and tears filled his eyes.

"Why?" He finally managed to get out, though he voice was unsteady and unprofessional. When was the last time he'd cried? He couldn't remember being this vulnerable.

Alexis stepped over the body and swung the scythe down, pointing it at Trace. Blood dripped from the end. "Do you know her?"

That was just it—Trace didn't know her. At least, not that he remembered. But then, why had he felt so determined to reach out to her and keep her safe? Why did he feel so helplessly heartbroken now?

Trace shook his head. "No, I don't."

Alexis brought her accusing blade back to its upright position, where it fizzled out of existence. He couldn't help but notice the little girl's body disappearing along with it.

He tried to speak in protest, but Alexis caught his jaw in her white gloved hand. She pinched it so he couldn't get loose, then held his gaze. Her stare was intense, mesmerizing, and confusing all at once. For a second, Trace felt like it would've been okay to get lost in her eyes—they were the most beautiful he'd ever seen.

"That girl is called 'Kira.' And she appears in your dreams for a reason. I want you to think about why that might be." Her words were like venom. As she spoke them, Trace wondered why they hurt so much. Even the name "Kira" didn't sound familiar.

"I—I don't know her," Trace confessed again. He continued looking into Alexis's eyes, and he thought he might have seen some remorse there. But even if he had, it was only there for a second. Power and discipline replaced it. "I just felt compelled to protect an innocent life."

Alexis tossed his head to the side and stood back. "Stand."

He obeyed, scrambling to his feet, though his limbs trembled and his heart throbbed as pain, confusion, loss, and admiration went to war with each other.

She took a deep breath as she looked him up and down, disapproving thoughts communicated through her brows. "How do you know she was innocent?"

Trace was puzzled. Why would she ask such a question? Of course a young girl with no weapon or reason for aggression would be innocent. This was the one thing he believed on his own. When children were involved, he knew they weren't to be faulted. Someone else was pulling the strings, forcing the child to do their evil bidding.

"She did nothing wrong," Trace said firmly. His ears were now back to their normal temperature, his body reviving from shock. He was almost nearly back to normal. "I just felt obligated to protect her."

"That's where you're wrong," Alexis said, her tone grave. Her eyes were like golden fire, ablaze with superiority. She pointed a finger to where the small pool of blood where Kira's body once was, but didn't look over her shoulder to confirm her absence. "That girl is in your dream because she is not innocent. Every chance she gets, she will do her best to kill you. She'll use your emotions and pull you in, then when she has you close enough, she'll take her shot." Her eyes flashed dark for a moment. "That's why you need to kill her first."

Fear rocked through Trace's veins. How could Alexis expect him to kill someone he desperately felt the need to protect? It made zero sense.

"You already killed her," Trace said, eyeing the puddle of blood behind her. Alexis waved a hand and it vanished.

"This isn't my dream. It's yours. Which means, you need to be the one to get rid of her once and for all." Her eyes softened and she bent down, extending a hand to Trace to help him up.

Once he was one his feet, he felt better. "Why does she want me dead? Why should I have to kill her?"

Alexis sighed deeply. "You have to stop asking questions like that, Trace. Those kinds of curiosities will lead you to dark places." She stepped back. "Just obey orders and don't ask whether they are sensible. You'll be safer that way."

"Okay. . ." Trace watched as her expression darkened. She looked sad. Maybe now, he could change the topic, though he still wanted to have a reason for killing someone he deemed to be innocent. "So what does our training look like today?"

"Oh," Alexis said, almost laughing. "That was it."

#

Trace lurched forward in his bed. His back and limbs were energized, painless, and mobile. How had so much changed in one night? Had he managed to get through his recovery quicker than expected? The feeling of accomplishment soared in his heart and painted a grin over his face.

He turned and hopped out of the bed, grabbed his breakfast and munched on it. Happy thoughts twirled throughout his head as he prepared to tell the news to the other members. The events in the dream were a blur, and not at all the focus of his attention now.

Finally, Derek's voice checked in over the Modifier, almost a growl.

Hailey's voice also cut into his thoughts, though hers was simply laughter. Derek grumbled in annoyance.

You've said it all in your Modifier, but why don't you hurry down to the parlour and show us you've retained control over your body? Hailey's voice was filled with pride, as though her surgical work was to take the credit for Trace's early acclimation to his Modifier.

Trace tossed the container in the DISPOSAL slot and strode to the elevator.

It would be a big day not only for WP-0770, but also for the entirety of Phantom.