I don''t trust her, Selene says, coming out from me to stare suspiciously at the door Ivy closes behind her.

The walk back feels longer, my boots crunching through snow as my mind churns. Something about Ivy''s story nags at me, like a splinter under my skin. It leaves me uneasy and uncomfortable, but I can''t pinpoint why.

"Selene, could you ask around about the attack?"

She trots beside me, staring at me with her sharp blue eyes. Why do you want to know about that?

"I can''t put my finger on it. It''s just strange. Maybe I''m being paranoid." Lord knows I''ve got serious issues with the woman. Paranoia feels far too natural around her. Of course, she encourages it with her strange behavior and passive-aggressive nature, but... I don''t know.

There''s something about this. I just know it.

You think she''s lying?

"No, no. Not that."

She was too nice?

"No." Frustrated by my own inability to understand what''s bothering me, I kick at the snow compacted to the side of the trail. "It''s probably nothing. I''m just—"

Her presence felt strange to me, too, Grimoire offers, sounding thoughtful. I paid little attention, but it was strange. I don''t know why, either.

Maybe that was it. "Think she was affected by some taint she passed by?"

It could be. We haven''t had much experience with the early stages of exposure. We can keep an eye on her.

"Wouldn''t you know if it was, though?"

No. It''s different every time. It can manifest in many different ways, depending on its source.

Glancing over my shoulder at Ivy''s cabin, I wonder if that could possibly be it. It doesn''t seem right, but what else could it be?

Selene''s muzzle connects with my thigh, nearly sending me face-first into a snowbank. I hop and skip a few steps to regain my balance. "A little warning next time?"

How many times have rogues have attacked our scouts? Her ears prick forward. Twenty? Thirty? And yet we''ve only found five of our own affected by the taint.

My legs weaken. The crawl at the bottom of the screen screams "STATE OF EMERGENCY" in bold red letters. The president is dead. Not just dead—assassinated. The words blur together as the anchor continues her report, but certain phrases punch through:

"An unprecedented attack on the White House... Vice President Matthew Collins has assumed command... Several supernatural delegates present during emergency address..."

The video shifts to the Oval Office. Our new president stands behind that famous desk, but he''s not alone. Beings that would have never been seen in the Oval Office before now flank him openly.

A vampire''s pale skin gleams under the lights; he doesn''t even hide the fangs curving into his lower lip. A Fae, with elongated ears and exotic beauty. Others I can''t even identify stand proud and tall. Maybe they''re human, but it sounds like they aren''t.

"The world as we know it is changing," President Collins says, his voice steady despite the chaos he must be facing. "In the wake of these devastating global attacks, we must embrace those who have lived among us, barred from positions of power. We cannot fight this global threat alone. It is time for unity, for understanding..."

My fingers press against my lips. "How long ago was this broadcast?"

"Twenty minutes," Kellan answers.

After weeks of communication blackouts, of isolation, of wondering what was happening beyond our borders... this is what breaks through first?

Conveniently when the digital world reconnects itself once again?

"He''s talking about cooperation." I can''t tear my eyes from the screen. "About peace. But..."

Lucas slides his hand around my waist with a sigh. "Right. Are they fighting our enemies, or are they affiliated with them?"

"Creating their own state of emergency in order to gain the power they always wanted," I murmur, watching as our president declares FEMA is ready to make their way across the entirety of the country and save all of us from the disasters of the last few months.

I''ve never been politically savvy, but even I can see what a train wreck all of this is.

"It''s too perfect," I whisper. The president''s death, the immediate supernatural presence, the restoration of communications—none of this is coincidence. "Someone orchestrated this. They can''t possibly believe the people aren''t going to notice this."

"There''s already outrage online," Vanessa says, taking her phone back. "They''re asking why the government has been so silent, taking so long to send aid. Everyone''s asking where the so-called aid has been going to all this time."

It hasn''t been a complete dearth of information in the human cities; the radio waves, after all, are alive and kicking. But it''s nothing like the freedom of information that the internet and personal phone calls have given us in modern times.

While the stores weren''t stocked as efficiently as they were before the attacks, they aren''t empty. Stores are still open. The highways are still open. Life has moved on, even if it looks different than before.

But now, the floodgates to modern life have re-opened.