His mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. A smile appeared on his face like sunrise over a landscape that did not get much sun. Small and genuine and entirely unprepared for itself.

"Thank you." He cleared his throat. "Your turn. What does Phantom Touch want?"

Right.

My fake Aspect. The cover story I’d constructed from stolen abilities and a registration system that couldn’t detect the System running beneath everything I did. Phantom Touch was supposed to be a mid-tier Channeler variant, a telekinetic projection system with moderate output and limited range. That was the file. That was what every instructor at this academy believed about me.

But Dravid had asked what the Aspect wanted.

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