Birthright

CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN

As far as a weekend at a foundation for aspiring future Sanser killers, Kray thought his was pretty productive. He had two more memory-awakening sessions with Instructor Masso. More intense than previous ones. Definitely more revealing.

The memories the sessions brought up were bittersweet, a spark of something good that fizzled away just as he tasted it. He recalled his best friends before he moved to the Mainland, back when his family lived in the Third Skad of Saranth. Alana and Max. A brother and sister who lived next door to his family's manor. They used to look so similar, with their reddish-brown hair and freckles. He made the mistake of teasing Alana one day that she looked like Max's brother than his sister. She gave him a bloody nose and then begged him not to tell anyone.

He remembered playing hide and seek with them in their big house. He remembered on such an occasion, when he was nine years old and Alana was ten, she kissed him in their attic while her brother searched for them. Because he dared her to.

It was like a dam had burst open in Kray's mind, flooding him with memories of things he'd never known he knew. The uncertainty of who he'd been and where he'd come from had always held him back. It was hard for him to find his footing when he had nothing to stand on. But the more he remembered, the more it solidified his identity.

Son. Friend. Neighbor. Leader. Mischievous, adventurous, bold, rebellious—who was this boy from his memories? He couldn't imagine ever scaling a dilapidated and crumbling clock tower because he wanted to check if the clock still ticked. He never would have in a million years thought he would be at the front and center of his elementary school days, calling the shots at the school playground and actually bossing the other kids around.

He wasn't this kid—and yet he was. The more he remembered, the more complete he felt. Yes, he'd spent the last seven years of his life being timid and uncertain, but he'd also spent ten years before then being all these other things. And the two sides to him were equally vital in shaping the person he was now. He felt changed, but at the same time he felt the same.

It was incredible.

When Instructor Masso finished their Saturday session, he held him back. "Let's try meditation now," he said from where he sat on the carpet in front of them. "Something tells me that whatever was holding you back before has lessened."

Kray opened his mouth to ask what he was supposed to do, but he didn't. He knew. It was something his father had taught him for years. It was part of his legacy.

He rested his hands loosely on his thighs and closed his eyes. Deep inhale and exhale. He did it again and this time it felt like he was breathing in harmony with millions of tiny beings within him, feeling their thoughts and wants as much as he felt their own. He dove into them, surrendered his being in a way that made him feel naked and small, but instead of taking advantage of his vulnerability to attack, they whisked him away on an adventure.

He felt the power they were withholding from him. The potential. Without realizing what he was doing, he was on his feet and crossing Masso's living room. He felt confined, limited by the space he was occupying. He was also confined in another way. He could hear them. The tiny beings inside the people around him. In Masso beside him. In Violet—she wasn't here, but the power inside her called to the power inside him. In Shane and Thamdan and Jassa—in Max and Alana. In the hundreds, thousands, millions of Sansers all over the planet.

Their Sen strained toward him, answering a call he didn't realize he'd sent out.

Startled, Kray opened his eyes and caught Masso's blank expression before he blinked awake. Something was wrong. "Did you feel that?"