She rolled the cigarette between her fingers, thinking. “Some folks would kill to hear the Umbra like you do. Alchemists, Seekers. But you? You treat it like a burden.”

Tessa shook her head. “You ever think that maybe they were wrong? The Syndicate, I mean. They call it sickness, but you and I both know sickness doesn’t make you understand things. You don’t get clarity from illness. Maybe you’re not sick. Maybe you’re just… in tune.”

Tessa scoffed. “Figures. He thought you were dangerous, so he made you a lighthouse keeper?”