Between the Firstking and the Secondking are panels showing the Land of the Harvest, the sun and a tree in full bloom. Between the Prince of Doves and Princess Mariée are panels depicting the four seasons inside a single circle. A bird flies above it while a fish swims below it. The next panels feature a spirit on the upper half and a human on the lower half, the two reaching for each other. Finally, there’s a window without an image, a simple pane of a glass with different shades of blue.

    Before me, an iron balustrade offers seven different openings that lead to a grand staircase in the center of the building. On each side is a picturesque bridge that climbs to the second floor, where seven columns create different archways. Between each arch is a roundel featuring a bronzed dove in various positions. On the ground, eating. On a bench. On a tree. In flight. Soaring through the clouds, soaring above the clouds and, finally, surrounded by a beam of amber Light.

    So much symbolism here. Too much to decipher all at once.

    I scale the steps, finding three granite panels between the columns attached to the wall, revealing carved friezes portraying fierce battle scenes. There are four pediment niches where flowers overflow, and between two are Reed and Kayla, who are holding stacks of books and vibrating with excitement.

    “This way.” Kayla turns on a sandaled foot, the hem of her robe swaying with the movement. The material is light green with dark green trim, and labels her a Leader-in-training.

    Reed trails her, and I trail Reed. He’s wearing a white robe with a green trim, signifying his status as a Laborer-in-training.

    The deeper we go, the more awed I am, the inside of the Hall even more elaborate than the outside, with domed ceilings and life-size sculptures of Generals who have led our armies into battle throughout the centuries. There are multiple chandeliers, but they aren’t connected to the ceiling. The glowing teardrops are suspended in the air, dancing together to create different shapes and patterns.

    I’m mesmerized and trip over my own feet—twice.

    “Good going, graceful,” a male quips.

    I turn, meeting Raanan’s hard gaze. He’s at a table, surrounded by books—and he just spoke to me, I realize. This is the first time I’ve ever heard his voice.

    “I’m hot, I know,” he mutters. “No need to stare. Later, your fantasies will remind you of what I look like.”

    I prefer him silent. And seriously, is he hitting on me—or himself? “What are you doing here?”

    “Studying for a test. I assume you’re doing the same.” His wry tone suggests I’m an idiot. Or at least borderline.

    “You assume wrong. I’m studying for a mission.” Ooo-kay. My tone suggests I’m smug and prideful, two things a Troikan is not supposed to be. I end the conversation before I can throw witchy into the mix, giving him my back as I face my friends.

    Kayla and Reed have settled at the glass table next to Raanan’s—great!—and they are arranging their books in rows of three. When they finish, sections of the glass depress, hiding the books beneath the surface while magnifying the pages over the surface.

    “Amazing.” My voice echoes, and I cover my mouth with my fingers. “Sorry.”

    “If you think that’s cool, just wait.” The strange thing is, her voice doesn’t echo. To the table, she says, “Show me the text I’ve highlighted about Tenley Lockwood.” She grins at me. “Everyone always wants to know what can be learned about them, but more than that, there is no better way to prove the information you read about others is correct.”

    My cheeks flush as text appears on the glass. “Anyone can read about my life history? My mistakes?”

    Someone shushes me.

    Grin widening, Kayla takes my hand, places my palm on the table and, after a few seconds of confusion as a neon colors flash over my skin, she releases me.

    “There. You’re now connected,” she says.

    Connected?

    “After you’ve dealt with your bad decisions and embarrassing moments,” she says, “they’re redacted.”

    “Dealt with?” I parrot. This time, my voice doesn’t carry. I don’t understand, but I can deal with only one mystery at a time.

    “You know...worked through, forgiven yourself and others, apologized, that kind of thing. Whatever you haven’t dealt with, well, you still don’t have to worry. Only Generals can access the bulk of that information.”

    My heart pounds as I read the mostly-redacted file, Tenley Lockwood—thick black line—during her escape from Prynne Asylum. After—thick black line—with Archer Prince. Thick black line—with ML Killian Flynn. Thick black line—Prynne Asylum closed down.

    The asylum closed down?

    Well. Something becomes clear: no one ever gets away with a crime, and no secret will ever remain a secret. Whether in Firstlife or the Everlife, there will be a punishment or a reward.

    “Per Levi’s request, I’ve already searched for your attacker,” Kayla says. “So far, the incident hasn’t appeared in anyone’s file.”

    “Okay, I’ve seen enough. Dismiss my file.”

    She types into an invisible keyboard, and says, “Please show every sentence I’ve highlighted about Dior Nichols and reveal the accompanying photos.”

    The text is replaced, and photographs of Dior Nichols in different stages of her life appear.

    Dior Magnolia Nichols visited with TL Elizabeth Winchester on November 1 seeking a way to break covenant with Myriad. We are proceeding accordingly.

    Court. Of course! The one and only way to null and void an Everlife covenant.

    Myriad must have learned about her possible defection and found a way to infect her with Penumbra.