~ Wren ~
It wasn't until July 14th that the penny I'd been carrying with me everywhere, staring at it and fiddling with it and keeping it under my pillow at night, glowed red hot.
I have no idea why Stillens decided to use pennies as his means of communication, or why all of them were strangely golden. I did know that when it became hot, it had a message. It was a technique he'd actually borrowed from James's aunt Hermione, that she'd used in the original DA. My family had perfected it. The penny looked perfectly normal (except for the gold color), but where a regular one would say "In God we trust," it said nothing. Nothing that is, until my uncle (or mom or dad, it depended) wanted to send a message. I already had a feeling I knew what this one would be: a summons.
Unfortunately, I couldn't exactly check. We were halfway through dinner at the time. I had actually been in the middle of asking Lily a question, trying to find some sort of normalcy, when suddenly it was like a burning coal had materialized in my pocket. I froze.
"Wren?" James frowned at me from across the table. "Are you okay?"
"Yeah..." I blinked, casually dropping my arm into my lap, just in case the coin was glowing through the fabric. "I just..." I shook my head, smiling. "I completely forgot what I was going to say, I'm sorry."
Everyone seemed to accept that (though James seemed a little suspicious), except for Mr. Potter. He raised an eyebrow, questioningly, and I gave an almost imperceptible nod as Albus started on about something Astra had said in one of her letters.
For the rest of the meal, I stayed quiet. That wasn't unusual. I'd been on the verge of panicking for almost a month now, and everyone had been tiptoeing around me. I recognized what they were doing, though they tried to hide it. I was too worried about everything else to care that much, though I didn't know whether to appreciate their thoughtfulness or be frustrated by it.
The truth was, I'd been struggling a lot more than I knew how to let on. And part of me wanted to hide it, but part of me longed to let it all rush out. The excruciating stress. Debilitating fear. Alarming numbness. An irrational feeling of being completely cut off from the people around me. And, worst of all, an inability to articulate any of this to anyone. Not Albus, not James. Not even writing it out for Astra.
There was an entire, silent month between the attack on the Ministry and this day, July 14th. A month where I slowly slipped out of reach of my friends, without knowing how to stop. I could tell James and Albus noticed, but I guess they were trying to give me space. To cope? To fall back to the depths of depression? I had no idea, but I was a little wary of approaching them about it, since they'd apparently decided to ignore it all.
I didn't know if the coin in my pocket made it all better or worse. Maybe both. Facing my uncle was almost better than waiting, knowing nothing. At least I wouldn't be in the dark anymore. The light might end up being a lot worse, unfortunately.
Six hours later, I stood in Mr. and Mrs. Potter's bedroom as they both quietly fussed over me, all three of us trying to act more brave than we were feeling. My hands were shaking so much that Mrs. Potter had to fix the clasp of my cloak for me. "It's going to be all right, I swear," she said softly, gently brushing my hair behind my ear. "Whatever happens, we won't leave you there."
Mr. Potter pulled something out of his pocket and held it out to me. As I reached to take it, I realized it was a small compact mirror, like the one Teddy Lupin had. Mr. Potter placed it in my hand and closed my fingers around it, and I slowly looked up at him. "Keep this in your pocket; I'll be able to hear everything that's happening. If anything starts going wrong, I'll be there in seconds. I won't be alone, either."
I swallowed. No use stalling anymore, now. I had to go. But I didn't leave, not for a moment. "It's been a month."
"You're prepared," Mrs. Potter said, putting her hand on my shoulder. "You know what you're going to say."
"Tell me one more time," Mr. Potter said, forcing a smile. "Just so it's fresh on your mind."
I glanced at them both, and repeated my story almost mechanically. "Carrow was listening in to our conversation. I couldn't let Zaria know that, of course, but when Zaria started talking about how I was a spy, I had to say something drastic to make sure she didn't believe it. I told Carrow I didn't know what Zaria was talking about, and only told her that so she'd confess and tell if there were any bombs left in the building. It wasn't the best idea I've had, but I didn't have a lot of options."
"And you modified the memory, so Stillens will see it?" Mrs. Potter asked.
I nodded. That had been her idea, a few weeks ago. My main concern had been my uncle prying through my mind and finding no recollection of this event, because obviously it was something I had to hide. Mrs. Potter had suggested that, theoretically, I could probably construct a false memory. If I put enough willpower behind it, it might stand up against legilimency. It was a long shot, but our only option. If he bought it, it would prove me innocent beyond reasonable doubt, which was more than enough.
"Perfect," Mr. Potter said, smiling. He looked so tired. I felt the same way, though I hoped I didn't look it; a lot of the next few hours could ride on whether or not I looked like I'd spent the past month in a state of terror.
Mrs. Potter hugged me tightly. "You don't have to go through with this, Wren," she whispered. "The DA can protect you."
I shook my head. "I have to. I can't live in hiding. I'm not a coward."
"That wouldn't make you one," Mr. Potter said. "But I understand. You feel this is too important." I nodded. "Well, nothing is more important than your safety, Wren."
That wasn't true. In the grand scheme of things, quite a lot ranked above my safety on the list of what was important. My friends, for one thing. The DA. The future of the wizarding world. Literally anyone who hadn't done all the awful things I had. If sacrificing myself helped protect any of those things, it was worth it.
Besides, that's not all this was. I was an important source of information for the DA, of course; the best spy they had at the moment. But more than that, this was a way to make up for all the wrong I'd done, the hurt I'd caused. It never could, not really, but I couldn't stop trying just because it was impossible.
"You're going to be all right, even if I have to duel your uncle myself," Mr. Potter said, pulling me back from my thoughts. He hugged me, too, then stepped back. "Good luck, Wren."
I smiled weakly. "Say a prayer."
Since we were pretty sure someone was watching the house at all times, I had to maneuver downstairs in darkness. It had to appear that I was sneaking out while the Potters all slept. The master bedroom and Mr. Potter's study had blackout curtains, but the rest of the house did not, meaning any light would be seen by whoever was out there in the night.
Anyway, I was sneaking out, sort of. Lily, Albus, and James were all sound asleep, with no idea what was going on. That had been my choice. Goodbyes were painful, for one thing, especially when you didn't know if you were coming back. For another, I was afraid James was going to do something incredibly stupid. I couldn't bear it if I was the reason James got himself killed.
I walked down the stairs, feeling my way in the dark. With one hand, I clutched the banister. The other was in the pocket of my cloak, wrapped around the compact mirror. For it to connect to Mr. Potter's, all I'd have to do would be to flip it open once I'd apparated.
My mom had told me a few months ago that they'd decided apparating was the best way while I was at the Potters, where I obviously couldn't use the Floo network, but it would be difficult to get in contact with someone to escort me. She'd spent several months teaching me. It was only possible because of a well-placed spy in the Department of Magical Transportation, who made a point to overlook all underage apparition for my uncle. So far, I hadn't had a chance to find out who else the "underage apparition" referred to. Now I'd never get a chance to, it seemed.
I was on the last stair when someone materialized out of the shadows at the bottom of the stairwell. I flinched and stepped backwards, almost losing my balance, but it only took a second to recognize who it must be. "James?"
He held up his wand, lighting it very dimly. I almost told him to put it away, but there weren't any windows near the bottom of the stairs. Anyway, the look on his face pushed away anything else I might have said. A resigned heaviness that I'd never really pictured on him.
"It's tonight, is it?" James whispered, his voice catching a bit. I nodded. What was the point in lying? I was wearing a cloak and fully dressed. Did I normally dress like this to go get a glass of water?
James took a few steps closer. I was a stair above him, which made me only a few inches shorter than him rather than almost a foot. "How did you know?"
"I didn't, really," he admitted. "I've been sleeping downstairs for the past few weeks. Just in case. I had a feeling, though, at dinner, something was different tonight."
I bit my lip, suddenly on the verge of crying. He cared too much, but that was the sweetest thing about him. I didn't pull away as he slowly put his arms around me, hugging me tightly. Thanks to his mum's PDA patrolling (I was beginning to suspect she just did it for the fun of it), it was the first time we'd been within five feet of each other all summer. I closed my eyes and leaned my head on his shoulder, willing my silent tears to stop falling. It didn't work.
Just be present here, I thought. Whatever happens, you get this. James's cheek resting on the top of my head. His arms shaking slightly, his own effort to hold tears back. His fingers gently combing through my hair. For a moment, I felt safe. The moment wouldn't last, but at least it was here now.
After a few minutes, James pulled back just a bit. He kept his arms around me, but now we were face to face, our foreheads pressed against each other. I could see tears glistening in his eyes, as well. "I promise, if anything happens, I'll come after you," James whispered.
"Don't say that."
"I mean it."
"I know you do," I said softly. "And I know that would just get you killed, too. Don't do that. Please. I couldn't live with myself."
James didn't answer that. Instead, he moved one of his hands up to my face, brushing away a strand of hair. "You're going to be okay."
"How do you know?"
"Because you're brilliant," James answered. "You're brilliant, and your uncle would be a fool to take the word of a mad American over you."
"I'm American, too," I pointed out, smiling.
"But you're not mad, so it doesn't count." James stepped back, taking my hand. He dropped into seriousness again. "You're strong enough to handle whatever happens, Wren. I know you are."
I stepped down next to him, then looked up. "Promise you won't come after me."
James looked at me for a long moment, then sighed. "I'm sorry. I... I'm not going to make a promise I can't keep. I want to protect you."
"I don't think you can." Can't you see I'm trying to protect you?
He smiled, a grim look in his eyes. He squeezed my hand. "It's after midnight, you know."
"So?"
"Happy birthday." I'd forgotten. Now I wondered if they'd planned this on purpose. I managed a smile, and James leaned down to kiss my forehead. "I love you, Wren." I blinked, and he was gone, up the stairs, before I could reply.
~~~~
I walked outside. It was not a nice night. The wind was blowing the trees around so much that I really couldn't tell if anyone was out there, watching me. It wasn't raining very hard, but I pulled my hood over my head anyway, bracing myself against the wind. At least Albus and Lily wouldn't hear me disapparating in this weather.
Before I did, I closed my eyes. James had gotten me slightly flustered, and I needed to calm down. My acting would have to start the second I appeared, most likely. I couldn't slip up for even a second. I breathed in and out, slowly, and shoved everything into the farthest corner of my mind, the one I could mentally block out, the Corner That Doesn't Exist. I reached into my pocket and flipped open the compact mirror. Then, I lifted my wand and spun on my heel, and was sucked into the void.
I almost fell when I landed. I blinked a few times, trying to keep my balance and stop being disoriented. Someone snickered behind me, and I quickly turned.
"Long time, no see," Magnus Caldwell said, no hint of warmth in his voice.
"You've been in prison, so it makes sense," I said, brushing off my cloak. I took the opportunity to look around. We were in the backyard of a decrepit manor. I recognized this house. I didn't know exactly where it was (somewhere in Wales, I thought), but it was where I'd spent most of my time second and third year. Perfect.
Magnus had been sitting on a low wall, separating one overgrown flower garden from another. He hopped up now. "I'm supposed to escort you to Stillens. Any trouble, and we can make a quick detour wherever I feel like, got it? You won't enjoy it."
I shivered, mentally pushing back against the memories that comment managed to dredge up. He hadn't changed at all. "Why would I cause trouble, exactly?" I frowned. "Is something wrong?"
Magnus gave me a weird look. "I guess you'll find out soon." Even though I made no sign of trying to run or fight, he grabbed my arm, took my wand from my cloak pocket, and pulled me towards the house.
As we walked, I tried to take stock of the situation. Obviously, Magnus expected me to know what was going on already, which meant not only had Zaria told Stillens, she'd told others. Pretending I didn't know what he was talking about had been a good idea. At least I didn't appear to have a guilty conscience. That wasn't a stretch, of course: I didn't have a guilty conscience anyway, despite the fact that I was entirely guilty of what I was being accused of. It's hard to feel remorse when you're not doing anything wrong, though.
Magnus led me through one of the side doors of the house. Inside, it was not decrepit at all. I didn't know what spells they'd put on the place to make it appear unoccupied from outside, but we walked into a large, spotless, industrial-grade kitchen. It seemed a lot larger than needed, but perhaps there were more of my uncle's agents here now than there had been a few years ago.
Magnus tugged on my arm; I hadn't meant to, but I'd slowed down to stare. "What, haven't been back here recently?"
"Recently, I've been able to Floo," I said coldly, trying to pull my arm away. Magnus just gripped it tighter. "I don't normally Floo into the kitchen. There isn't even a fireplace in here."
"I suppose it would scare the no-majs, too," Magnus agreed.
"No-majs? Here?"
"Yeah? Stillens hasn't hired wizard help, if that's what you were thinking." I sincerely doubted he'd hired anyone, but I kept my mouth shut.
Magnus led me through the first floor, which was entirely unrecognizable. It seemed like any normal manor, ornate and gleaming and completely, totally empty. We were the only living souls to be seen. Of course, it was past midnight, so I wasn't surprised. Last time I'd been here, though, the house had looked like no one had lived here in fifty years (which was very close to the truth, if my mom was right in saying this had been my grandmother's childhood home before she had fled to America).
Magnus didn't take me upstairs, though I was pretty sure that's where I normally went. Instead, he pulled open a small door that looked like it went to a broom cupboard. Inside, there was a very narrow staircase, descending into pitch black.
I froze at the doorway. I hadn't been to the basement for a long time. Dungeons and darkness and everything cold, so cold...
"Inside, inside," Magnus said huffily, shoving me down a few steps. He pulled the door closed, plunging us into complete darkness. I blinked in the sudden lack of light. Before I could do anything else, though, sickly electric lights flickered on, illuminating the way down.
Below, cement floors and cinder block walls were just as I remembered them. This had once been a cellar, I had a feeling, but even four years ago they'd been working on expanding it. There had been plans to add lower levels, as well. I wondered if that had ever happened. I wondered if the no-majs in the kitchen knew.
Magnus led me through a twisting series of connecting corridors. The basement had at least expanded since I'd been there last. Or maybe Magnus was just trying to disorient me, in case I tried to run, and we were just walking down the same few corridors over and over again. It was plausible: there were few distinguishing marks anywhere, just metal doors every once in a while and harsh electric lights.
Magnus finally stopped us outside one of those metal doors. He paused before opening it to run a hand through his hair. "How do I look?"
"Like you want to suck up to my uncle."
Magnus glared at me, then threw the door open and shoved me inside.
I knew where we were immediately. I didn't know if the room had a name or not, but I thought of it as the Largest Interrogation Room, the one my uncle used when he wanted to publicly chastise someone. That someone had been me more often than not, with today being no exception. There were about a dozen or so people gathered around, all silently staring at us in the doorway. In the center of it all: my uncle and a chair.
"Wren, perfect timing," he said, smiling coldly at me. "Have a seat."
I slowly crossed the room, glancing around as I did. My parents were in one corner, holding each other's hands so tightly they were shaking. I recognized most of the other faces, senior agents whose full names I didn't know. And, to the right and a few steps behind my uncle, Zaria Hempsey, glaring at me with murder in her eyes.
I sat down, allowing a bit of wariness now. If I didn't know what was going on, that would be natural, right? Right. "Is something wrong?" I asked. I resisted the urge to break eye contact with my uncle; I could feel the whispers of him prying through my mind.
After a few moments, he seemed momentarily satisfied. "That depends on what you have to tell me." Stillens gestured to Zaria. "Hempsey told me a very interesting story recently." He stepped aside, giving Zaria the floor.
Zaria walked over to me, a cold, disdaining look on her face. Honestly, she would've been very pretty if she hadn't seemed so incredibly hateful, with short blonde hair and blue eyes, the stereotypical popular girl. As it was, she tossed her blonde hair and made a show of looking around the room. "As you all know, I was given the honor of planting the bombs in St. Mungo's." A few people nodded. I just stared up at her. This was okay; I had an excuse. It would all work out.
"I was caught, unfortunately, but I convinced Carrow there were more bombs in the building that hadn't gone off yet." Zaria sneered. "That stupid woman never questioned it."
"I mean, that's a legitimate threat," I pointed out.
"Shut up!" Zaria looked like she was going to hit me, and I flinched, but she glanced at Stillens over my shoulder and backed down. After a moment, she continued her story. "I wasn't going to answer any of their questions, so Carrow pulled the trick she always does: getting little Wren Predatel to come identify me and scare a confession out or something." Zaria had been looking around the room, addressing everyone. Now, though, she turned her attention fully on me. With a flair that told me she'd been rehearsing for this very moment, she circled my chair, trailing her hand over my shoulder. I had to force myself not to tense up. "That's where it turned interesting, you see," Zaria said. "I expected Wren to play her part, act like she'd shaken me so they would be satisfied, looking in through the window. I told her as much. But she didn't just act. In fact, what she said to me was shocking and horrible."
Zaria paused. As she circled back in front of me, I struggled to keep a neutral expression. She met my eyes again, and I could still see the hatred there. "She told me she was a double agent. Betraying us all."
Instant outbursts. Several of the witches and wizards in the room started yelling, the effect being that I couldn't hear anything any of them said. Others seemed too shocked to react. I glanced over at my parents, clutching each other tightly and staring at me with pain and disappointment, an expression I was long used to. They'd been expecting this, I had a feeling, if no one else had. The twinge of remorse I always got when disappointing my parents hit me, followed quickly by disgust at myself for not being able to stop caring. I quickly looked back at Zaria. Before Stillens had managed to restore order, she whispered, "You got me sent to Azkaban; I'll get you killed."
Zaria stepped back, allowing my uncle to stand in front of me again. "What do you have say for yourself?" he asked, once the room had quieted again. The silence seemed tinged with something more malevolent, now.
I took a breath. I'd prepared for this. The next few moments would decide my fate, but if I played it right, my fate would be decided by me. "I'm afraid Zaria doesn't know the whole story."
Zaria scoffed, and seemed about to say something, but my uncle silenced her with a glance. "Continue," he commanded.
"Well," I said, trying not to let my voice waver. The effort of not seeming afraid was starting to wear on me. "Carrow and Potter were both listening to everything Zaria and I said, through a speaker. I was going to let Zaria know that, if I could, and just find out if there were any more bombs, but I didn't get a chance. She'd hardly let the door close before she'd told me I needed to play along, and mentioned I was a spy."
Grumblings came from different corners of the room; Zaria looked stunned, and slightly nervous, which was a very good sign. I let it boost my courage a bit. "As you can see, I was put in a very difficult situation. Zaria risked the best source on the DA you had, Uncle. I had to think of the most ridiculous thing I could say to throw Carrow and Potter off," I explained. "If I said something that sounded equally crazy, I had a chance of convincing them that Zaria was just insane." I glanced around the room. "It did work. I told them I had no idea what she'd been talking about, and just played along in order to find out if there were any more bombs. Carrow bought it, even if Potter seemed a bit suspicious. And I think I've even managed to gain his trust back."
Whispers flew about, though I stayed focused on my uncle. His expression was as unreadably thoughtful as ever, though he seemed a bit surprised. I couldn't tell if it was good or bad. Once again, I felt the something like a breeze blowing over my thoughts. Now was the time. I concentrated on the false memory, putting all my focus into believing it. If this worked... If he didn't look too deeply...
A long moment of silence ensued, as everyone slowly realized what was going on. I didn't break eye contact, as much as I wanted too. My uncle's legilimency grew slightly more persistent, and I winced as I felt it more clearly, the false memory replaying in my mind. Yes, Madam Minister, I don't have any idea what she was talking about... Ah, I see, you were smart to play along... The girl is mad... Seconds stretched on, and I found myself holding my breath.
"She's telling the truth," he said after much too long. I almost let out a sigh of relief, managing to make it look like simply the release of tension as he finally looked away from me. Glancing around, I saw my mom with a hand pressed against her mouth, practically in tears. My dad seemed relieved, as well.
Stillens turned on Zaria. "So, you jeopardized the safety of one of my most important spies, and had the audacity to bring it up to me yourself and not mention it?"
"I... I didn't..." Zaria was staring at me with an open mouth. I couldn't tell if she was shocked, or simply didn't believe me. Perhaps both.
"Your actions were thoughtless and foolish," my uncle continued. He regarded her coldly for a moment. "I'll have to consider what your punishment will be."
"No, please—"
He put his hand up, and Zaria's voice dropped off. "We're done here."
As people began to file out of the room, my mom ran to me. "Oh, my dear, you don't know how relieved I am."
"We knew there was some explanation," Dad said, pulling us both into a hug.
I closed my eyes. For a moment, I wasn't acting at all. My parents' relief and joy over me was rare, but something I desperately wanted, in spite of myself. More proof I could never fully be redeemed. If I still wanted my parents, who I knew were horrible people, to be proud of me, didn't that make me horrible, as well? The answer was yes, but it wasn't something I liked to think about. I shoved all those feelings away, hating myself for feeling them. You shouldn't want this.
As I pulled away from them, I felt a cold hand on my shoulder. Stillens. "I have to say, I am proud of you. You handled yourself remarkably well, both tonight and at St. Mungo's."
"Thank you," I said, unsure where this was going.
He waved my parents off, and they reluctantly backed away. "This past month, as I'm sure you've noticed, you haven't been contacted at all."
"I was wondering if I'd done something wrong," I admitted. "I see now what it was."
He nodded. "This was meant to serve one of two purposes. If you had been guilty, it would have been its own form of punishment, waiting as your fate hung in the balance. However, since you are not, it serves more as a test of your resilience. You handled yourself well over the past month, I assume?"
"I believe so?" I tried not to make it sound like a question, but it didn't work very well.
"Very good. Wren, I believe it's time for you to take on more responsibility. You have finally overcome the qualms holding you back, and you're ready."
I tried not to freeze up. More responsibility? What was that supposed to mean? How was I supposed to respond to this? Luckily, he didn't give me a chance to.
"Welling has, unfortunately, been ousted from Hogwarts. I have realized now that you need to be aware of who you're working with, or else unfortunate incidents like this will happen more often. I am very close to having another spy placed at Hogwarts. He will not be effective as Welling, unfortunately, in terms of power, but I believe that you and he, working as field partners, will be able to accomplish much."
"Who is it?" I asked curiously.
"I'll let you know soon," my uncle assured me. He actually smiled (coldly, with no emotion whatsoever, but a rare sign of humanity all the same). "You are finally living up to your family legacy, Wren. You have almost made me proud." With those closing remarks, he turned and left.
My parents fussed over me for a few more minutes. Zaria and Magnus were sulking by the door, and I realized Magnus, at least, probably had to wait for me. That prompted me to check my watch, realize it was nearing two in the morning, and insist that I needed to go soon. After a final hug from my mom, we left the room.
Magnus rolled his eyes as my parents walked on ahead of us, tossing my wand back to me. "Lucky break," he said, his voice low enough that only I could hear him. "I was looking forward to spending some quality time with you." His tone implied that he'd wanted nothing good, and I shivered involuntarily.
"Leave me alone, Caldwell." My voice was loud enough for my parents to hear, just in case Magnus tried anything.
"What's the fun in that?" Magnus stopped in the corridor, forcing me to stop behind him. My parents disappeared around a corner ahead of us, and Magnus stayed still until their footsteps had died away. I gripped my wand tightly, warily. What exactly was he about to do?
Nothing, it seemed. He turned around. "Have at her, Zar."
Someone grabbed me from behind and slammed me against the wall. I blinked in surprise, my head suddenly aching and the breath knocked out of me. Within seconds Zaria Hempsey had twisted my arm so hard that I'd dropped my wand. She pinned me to the wall. She's about to kill me, I thought.
"I don't believe you," she said, pressing her wand into my neck. "You lied in there, and I don't know how you got away with it."
I struggled against her futilely, hardly able to breathe, fear coursing through me. "I... No, You don't..."
"What did you do? How did you convince him you were telling the truth? It's impossible, even for an occlumens. They can hide things, but not just make things up." She pulled her wand back slightly, allowing me to take a breath. She expected a real answer, it seemed.
"I didn't lie," I managed to say.
"You did!" she yelled, letting off for just a moment only to shove me into the wall again, even harder. I flinched. "You did, and I'll prove it! You made me look like a fool in there, and you're going to pay for it!"
"Please, stop." My eyes darted back and forth between the wand pressed against my neck and Zaria's eyes, in which I could see a determination and anger fully capable of murder.
"You can go along, playing this little game with your uncle," Zaria said. I couldn't tell if she was shaking with adrenaline or if I was the one shaking. Perhaps both. "If he can't see through your pathetic act, fine. But I know the truth, Predatel. And one way or another, I'm going to prove it. You're going to pay for it, even if I have to drag you down to Hell myself!" With that, she let go, and I dropped to my knees. Air flooded into my lungs, and I took a few seconds to get my bearings.
For a moment, I sat there on the floor, watching Zaria storm off. Magnus watched her, too, then turned back to me. "The longer you take, the more chance I'll get bored waiting for you. And you don't want me bored, do you?" I grabbed my wand from the ground and pushed myself up, flinching away when he reached for my arm. He relented, and led the way out in silence.
~~~~
Question of the Day: What do you think about the POV change?
Answer: I realize that this is a super risky thing to do, but I feel like I'm justified in doing it. I'm so excited to finally get to write about what's going on inside Wren's mind. Of course, if that was my only reason, I'd have to do Colette, James, and Albus as well (which I'm not planning on doing), because Astra very rarely knows everything going on in any of their heads. However, there are so many plot-related things revolving around Wren now that I didn't feel right trying to write everything from Astra's perspective, hearing half the plot second hand.
This series has always been Astra's story, completely, but midway through the last book I realized that it's really not hers alone anymore. To some degree, all four of my supporting main characters have a claim on this story, but most of all I think Wren does. She's a main protagonist in her own right, on a different level than Albus, James, and Colette (who have kind of been relegated to a supporting type of role, in a way; I mean, at least one of them has been involved in almost every climax, but they're always helping Astra).
I realized that this story has evolved since the beginning. It was about Astra back then, in the early books, and I think I stayed true to that. But bringing Wren back (and making her a spy) introduced a new element I hadn't really accounted for: very important plot points that were completely out of Astra's control, and even beyond her point of view. Plot points that revolved around Wren.
So, anyway, I feel justified in this "random" POV change over halfway through the series, because it wasn't needed until recently. Astra's story has become Astra and Wren's story (in the most platonic way possible, Figure8Out). And trust me, the plot is revolving around both of them equally this book.
Vote and comment!
~Ellie