“You’ll have to hold it to your mouth to speak,” he says. “And then hold it to your ear to hear coms. There’s an amplifier there.” He points to the tiny black mesh that circles the button. This whole thing is smaller than the earbuds I used when I went running before school, but it’s clearly far more powerful. When Doc tests it by sending me a com link request, it beeps loudly enough for me to hear from my wrist. Intrigued, I raise my hand to my ear and listen to the tiny electronic voice of the wi-com say, “Com link req: Doc.”

“You made this?” I ask, awed.

Doc hesitates. His unease is so unnatural that I stop staring at the bracelet wi-com and instead turn my gaze to his nervous face. “No,” he says finally. “I didn’t make this. I found it.”

“Where?” I ask. Dread wriggles through my veins like worms writhing in mud.

“In the Recorder Hall.”

I glance down at the wi-com on my wrist in revulsion. All I can think about is the angry, spiderweb scar that marred the side of Orion’s head, just under his left ear. I imagine the wires braided around my wrist being ripped from his flesh, dripping in blood and gore. “This was his?” I hiss.

Doc nods. “I found it among his possessions. He altered it himself. I don’t know why he kept it, even — but the design works perfectly.” Doc pauses. I didn’t know it was possible, but he looks even more uncomfortable as he meets my eyes. “There was… a note. He made this wi-com specifically for you.”

“For me?” I ask, peering down at the thing entwined around my wrist.

“He wrote that he feared for your safety, if something happened to him and the Eldest system faltered, as he thought it would. As it did.”