Page 26 of War Hour

Following the street, I can see a group gathered in a ring, three rows of people deep, shouting in protest at what unfolds inside.

“Leave her alone!”

It’s Doireann’s voice, piercing from the rowdy crowd.

I rush over, pushing to the center, before I even think about it. I just breach the line when Doireann, an elderly shop worker, is shoved back by a member of the Guard.

Doireann’s cart lay in splinters beneath her feet. It’s only when she pushes something further behind her do I see a young girl running off. When the guard moves to follow her, Doireann holds out her hands, trying to stop them.

“It was hers! She paid for it. I swear to it. She wasn’t stealing.”

Doireann’s voice cracks as she insists, her face breaking in composure.

The young girl likelyhadbeen stealing, taking advantage of the chaotic market and hoping to swipe some food, while the vendors were concerned with protecting their stalls.

Doireann is backhanded, and I flinch.

When she turns her head back, a split mars her right cheek. Her lip trembles as she stares back at them, but she doesn’t move.

“Hey! Don’t touch her!”

While the words echo my thoughts, it isn’t my voice.

Thoman.

Searching the crowd of bobbing heads, I look for my friend. My heart clenches at the thought he doesn’t know what happened to me—that I’m now Trialed—that I survived.

My eyes land on him when he shoves who laid his hands on Doireann. Two more guards are on him before he can help Doireann up. All the air in my lungs forces out in a shuddering gasp as I watch the two pull his arms behind his back. The guard Thoman shoved cocks his fist and throws a solid punch, forcing his head to recoil to the side. When he looks up, his eyes are cold. A red cut mars the dark skin of his chin, already swelling.

Anger builds in my veins, pulsing with each beat.

Doireann tries to stand on shaky legs, as Thoman fights the guard’s hold. Doireann cries, pleading with the guard, as she reaches out to Thoman, who groans as another fist plows into his stomach.

Panic rips through me as I feel the tightness in my chest build, just like that day in the grand hall. What if it unfolded like last time? A shield of destruction rather than protection. My hands shake as I cling to the last of my control, but I can’t stopchaos from unleashing from me. A culmination of every ounce of anger and fear.

The protective field blasts through the crowd, barreling over people on its path to Doireann. Just as I think it’s about to knock Doireann off her feet, it stops as if hitting a wall and cascades over her in a dome.

The transparent shield fabricated around Doireann fades and blinks as I struggle to hold it. It takes everything I have to keep it from exploding outward.

When a guard’s hand meets the protective layer, he flinches backward. His eyes are blown wide, staring at the shield in utter shock and horror.

“Trials, Lysta, you actually. . .” Ardis curses behind me, awe evident in his tone.

Gritting my teeth, I push for the field to grow. Expanding until it is just out of reach of Thoman. I can feel my hair crackle with static. My body is vibrating from the effort, arms shaking as I hold them in front of me as if physically grasping the shield.

“You’re trying to do too much,” Ardis warns. “If you push yourself too far before you know your limits, you could burn yourself out.”

I tune him out. If I couldn’t use my powers to do this, then what use were they?

The guards holding Thoman drop his arms in shock as they stare at the barrier in front of them.

The guard swivels, eyeing the crowd, when he shouts, “Who’s doing this?!”

No one from the crowd answers, and I’m unsure whether it’s because they truly don’t know or if they refuse to answer.

Another guard comes running, pushing into the crowd to the action unfolding inside, more headed our way in the distance.

Thoman stumbles toward the shield, eyes widening when his arm goes right through. Without hesitating, he dives in to help Doireann off the ground.

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