Page 156 of Interion

I searched for the link I kept tucked away in a distant corner, and it wasn’t hard to find—it was always there, hovering in the back of my mind. For the first time in my life, I really examined it, noticing that it looked like the entrance to a golden tunnel, something that stretched beyond me.

“I found it. It looks like a tunnel.”

“Now I want you to go in and follow it until you find the exit.”

The tunnel was full of lights, as if its walls were made of rainbows, shimmering and casting colors toward me. I walked through the passage and reached out to touch it—that was when I realized my body wasn’t physical, but something made of reddish mist. I was enchanted as I tried to touch myself and the bronze-colored mist disintegrated. Up ahead, I spotted an exit on the other side, so I hurried toward it, marveling at all the colors. Still distracted, I felt Zion sigh in front of me and wondered if he felt it too. When I emerged on the other side, I was walking on the waters of a calm ocean. The surface was blue-green, but deep below I could only see darkness and currents of water crashing into each other. Before me, a gigantic barrier stretched out, extending beyond sight in every direction—both up and across. It was transparent but became distinct against the horizon. Taking in its full expanse, I felt small standing there.

“I found it, Zion. I’m in front of your barrier.”

“Go ahead, touch it.”

I followed his advice and approached, reaching out with my palm open. The shadows parted, allowing me to touch the thick glass. It was cold and pulsed against my palm as if it were alive. It vibrated to the rhythm of Zion’s heartbeat, and I could even hear his blood flowing.

“It’s alive,” I murmured, looking up.

“Yes, the shield is an organ of my mind, just like any other part of my body.”

“Maintaining this barrier must take a huge amount of energy.” I slid my fingers across the barrier and felt Zion gasp on the other side. “Do you feel my touch?”

He took a deep breath on the other side, as if steadying himself.

“Yes, I feel it. The barrier requires a lot of energy to build, but once it’s done, it only takes a little for daily maintenance—or when it has to work hard to keep someone out of my mind.”

“Are all barriers like this?”

I took in that entire expanse. What were the three walls compared to this?

“I don’t think so. I’ve never actually seen a barrier in my life—only the ones Serguei projected into my mind to help me understand how they worked, but they were all different from each other,” he said thoughtfully. “I suppose it has to do with each person’s type of gift.”

“Yours seems impenetrable,” I murmured, touching it again.

“That’s what’s expected of the son of the nation’s best psychic.”

“Has he ever tried to get in?”

Zion snorted on the other side.

“That’s a long story, Kyller.”

“I have time to listen,” I replied. I wanted to hear about it—everything about him fascinated me, and I felt like I knew so little.

“I promise we’ll talk another time,” he murmured from the other side. He seemed irritated.

“What are you hiding from, Zion?” I asked gently. “You hate Serguei, but why? What did he do to deserve all this?”

He laughed, but there was no amusement in it—only nervousness.

“Well, if you like Serguei so much, why didn’t you ask him?”

“Because I wanted to hear your side of the story,” I replied, bracing myself for an argument.

“Which part?”

“I don't know... Whatever you're willing to share.”

Zion stayed silent for five heartbeats, then sighed:

“It's complicated... for as long as I can remember, our relationship has been off-balance.... Serguei is unstable,” he paused, gathering his thoughts. “He confuses protection with suspicion and control. I've heard he used to trust people easily and avoided reading their minds because he saw it as an invasion of privacy. But after...” He seemed even more nervous. “After my mother betrayed him, he started suspecting everyone, so he began listening freely to the thoughts around him. That made him even worse, because now he can't tell the difference between what's spoken and what's thought—his mind treats them the same.”