When the Disorder lands in New Canada and discovers Alex has been captured by the Council, they must make a plan to continue to uncover Secretary Frankie’s corrupt practices regarding the Elixir and save their Engineer.

Traveling across the globe, Thea and her allies appeal to the International Committee on Health and Wellness to aid them in their goal to distribute the Elixir to those who need it and to deliver military action against the New States.

Frankie declares war and, as Thea and company wait for political decisions to be made, she trains to become a Mental Specialist. Thea counsels trauma victims who have been affected by the fighting and Frankie’s new weapon that can eradicate mental abilities in addition to tirelessly working to perfect a new method of administering the Elixir that could help millions.

Everything comes to a head when an attempt to save Alex from Frankie’s grip is fatal, and Elias shows signs of illness. Thea has to travel from Belgium to Ireland to save the lives of those she loves most, but she also must save the lives of millions of New Americans who have been threatened by Frankie’s master weapon, else the world could collapse even further into chaos.

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	Preorder Coming Soon!
GENRE Dystopian Sci-Fi
Available: February 24, 2026
Teen

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Excerpt
Chapter One

The spires of the age-old building in front of me threaten to slice through the sky like a monstrous creature centuries in the making. It feels like one of the spires has fallen off and sliced my heart and stomach in two. My anxiety is never altogether gone, even with the Elixir; especially not when Alex is still sitting in a prison cell. It’s been three months. Three monthswhen it should have been a few days or a few weeks.

Just as my mother predicted, Secretary Frankie hasn’t failed to televise my brother’s picture across New America, painting him as ‘public enemy number one.’ His hearing is in four days and, if we can’t get him out in time, he may be gone to me forever, not just for a few months. My breath stutters in my chest and I suck in a lungful of the chilly fall air, trying to steady myself, to bring myself back to the present and away from my terrifying thoughts.

There were more politics and international handholding than anticipated, but Prime Minister Wallow has tried his very best to circumvent the red tape where he can. And today marks a momentous occasion—one that has been months in the making.

Forcing myself back to the present, the gloomy London clouds reflect my current mood. As I remind myself how to breathe properly, I steady my heart rate and focus on what’s in my realm of control. Elias laces his warm hand through mine, and I peer into his cerulean eyes. He wears the same mischievous smile that never fails to make my heart race and stomach flip.

“You’re not helping my nerves,” I quip, rolling my eyes.

“Come here.” He pulls me into him and rests his chin atop my head, his arms threading around me like a protective barrier. The pins and needles in my hands and legs disappear, melting away. “You’re going to be great, Thea,” he whispers in my ear, sending a shiver down my spine. And it has nothing to do with the English fall weather.

Looking up at him, I wear a doubtful expression, but I know he won’t let my self-consciousness creep in. “You were made for this. Your passion to help people, your unique experience. Plus, you won’t be alone. We’ll all be there with you.”

I nod my head in agreement and sigh, shaking away the nausea creeping up my throat. This could be the deciding factor on whether my brother is free or a dead man. But Prime Minister Wallow coached me on this a thousand times and there’s nothing else I could do to ready myself.

Before us stands the house of the International Committee of Health and Wellness, a body so powerful it can change the conditions of the entire world with the snap of an ambassador’s fingers. Let’s hope they’ll hear our plea on providing military aid and support to better health conditions in New America. And that they’ll agree to help in breaking my brother out.

“Ready?” the timbre of Prime Minister Wallow’s voice takes me off guard and I school myself, squaring my shoulders.

“As I’ll ever be,” I reply, and my mother joins us from the other side of the courtyard, her soft smile serving as the recognition I could have used years ago. The three of us walk toward the arched entryway to what could determine the rest of our future.

My loafers feel too worn with time, my black dress simple and outdated. I feel vulnerable and stripped bare. But Elias places his hand on my shoulder, and I continue forward, past the metal detector and number of guards wearing matching navy-blue uniforms. They look much friendlier than any Council guard in New America.

“Welcome, miss,” a guard with a pink nose, balding white hair, and a cherubic face says, nodding to me.

“Thank you, sir.”

Flags of more countries than I knew existed line the massive hallway that takes us to the chamber where the assembly is held. Greens, yellows, reds and blues melt together as I’m led toward the mahogany doors much faster than I’d like to be.

The walls tout portraits of past and current members, done in the old-school fashion, like actual paintings instead of pictures. Below us the floor is adorned with red carpet and above us the ceiling goes up, up, up into the sky. I notice a metallic track just above the doors to the chamber, coming from some unknown location. The track travels through a tiny hole made in the plaster of the wall and a tray with a teacup, a ramekin full of sugar cubes, and a saucer of cream chugs its way into the room.

I smile to myself. Alex would have marveled at the track and attempted to distinguish the mechanics behind it. Trying with all my might, I tap into the connection we share and relay to him we’re doing all we can to save him but, for the thousandth time, I get nothing in return. Just a cold, empty feeling in my gut.

Noticing my uneasiness, my mother urges, “You can do this. Don’t believe anything else your mind tells you.”

A distant voice bellows something in French and the doors are thrown open, revealing a room so opulent, so beautiful, it takes my breath away. The walls are a shade of cream mixed with pink, and statues are placed around the perimeter—Greek gods and goddesses of strength, innovation, war, intellect. Athena, Hephaestus, Ares. The sheer number of chairs and the colossal circular mechanism at the center of the room that holds the ambassadors makes me shrink into myself.

Prime Minister Wallow leads us to a pair of seats to the right of the assembly and Elias squeezes my hand before we settle into a cushioned pew at the front of the chamber.

The Prime Minister is going first. There’s no need to worry.

The familiar tingling at the base of my skull envelops my senses and comforts me like a warm blanket.

It’ll be hard to follow his act. I roll my eyes toward Elias, and he smiles, squeezing my hand three times in succession—our way of telling each other we love the other.

As I readjust my position in the less than comfortable pew, an unfamiliar voice fills my mind and it’s not my intrusive thoughts, Elias, or Alex. It’s something and someone new.

Good luck, Miss Americana.

I shake away the feeling of dread creeping up the backs of my legs, clawing at my throat, making me see double.

Who is this? I demand, just as Prime Minister Wallow is called to speak at the dais in the front of the room. Each of the ambassadors holds a small piece of a single thread determining our fate and, if one lets go, the whole thing may snap, forfeiting our chances.

Who else? As the voice becomes clearer, I attempt to hide my annoyance, my apprehension. How did I not recognize it at once? I’ve been hearing it for months as we stayed with Prime Minister Wallow. Whenever I would try to take my nightly walks. When I explored past the perimeter of the estate. When I ate my breakfast in a way that was “too American.”

Why is Fieran, the Prime Minister’s nephew, in my head? How could he know how to communicate with me this intimately? We are a continent away and he’s running drills with the lowly soldiers he outranks back in New Canada.

I think of Elias. We instantly had a connection, but we also have a soul bond. Something that can’t and never will be broken. Something that I’ll cherish until the day I die.

Elias taps my leg with his and motions toward the Prime Minister, drawing me from my internal cyclone of thoughts.

“Esteemed ambassadors of the International Committee of Health and Wellness, I, the Prime Minister of New Canada come to you with a proposal and to seek your aid with three very pressing matters. They are of the utmost importance to international security, equality, and the main statute that this Committee was founded on—freedom.”

The Prime Minister speaks clearly and with urgency. The audience is rapt. Then, the moment I’ve been dreading comes to fruition. “Now, I’d like you to hear from my understudy, Ms. Theodora Veros. She is the first Analyst and Moodist in ninety years from New America. She has begun her training to become a Mental Specialist and has played a key role in uncovering the atrocities that are occurring in her country.”

Legs shaking like a newborn colt, I wobble toward the dais, trying not to make eye contact with any of the ambassadors. One look and I might melt into a puddle on the beautiful red, velvet carpet. Luckily, a woman who looks to be in her fifties with blonde hair, streaked with gray, sends me a small smile and a nod. Her pantsuit and her immaculate posture tell me she’s all business, but the look on her face shows a hint of kindness.

“Esteemed am-ambassadors of the International Committee of Health and Wellness,” I stammer but then find my confidence. “I’m honored to be here today. To be in the presence of such great leaders of our world. To have the attention of individuals that hold such knowledge and power in their hands. But I didn’t come here to flatter.” My joke earns a few laughs, one being the lady who smiled at me earlier.

“As Prime Minister Wallow mentioned, I am Theodora Veros. I am...or was part of the Elite Society of New America. As you all know, New America is split into two categories—the Elite and the Normals. For decades there has been a belief that only the Elite show signs of mental...” I gulp before using the word that’s been forbidden in my country since its resurgence after the war, “illness.”

“But we have proof here today that there is no difference between Normals and Elite members of society. That mental illness can touch anyone, anywhere. We also have proof that the leaders of New America are withholding the Elixir from not only the Normals of society but now the Elite, unless they are willing to pay a hefty price. And it’s not for lack of serum; it’s a move to become a more autocratic government.”

This elicits a few shocked noises from the dignitaries. One man at the head of the table speaks up, his tanned, bald head shining in the fluorescent lights. His thick, full mustache wiggles as he speaks. “So, Theodora Veros. What would you have us do?”

“There are three conditions we would like to propose but I will let the former Deputy Secretary of Health and Wellness state them, if that is alright with you.” I nod to the man, and he nods back, allowing me to pass the torch to my mother.

As she walks by me, she squeezes my hand, a movement so quick I barely feel her skin against mine. That means I wasn’t a failure; I didn’t ruin our chances.

“As some of you may know, I was once a Normal. And I rose to be the third highest ranking member of society in New America. Myself and the boy you see over here, Elias Castria, whose father is heading the rebellion against the corrupt state of New America, were both Normals who experienced mental illness and were afforded the opportunity to live a better life, to receive the Elixir. But can you imagine how many must go without?

“We are asking for international aid on production of the Elixir. All the best Scientific minds coming together to create a system where the Elixir can be administered to everyone who needs it. Testing for mental illness, especially in poorer communities and those deemed “Normal.” Training for up-and-coming Scientists so there can be more in the field who will have the ability to administer the Elixir.”

She draws in a breath, waiting for any comments or questions.

“This would be a large-scale operation, Mrs. Veros,” the same man with the mustache responds, rubbing it like it’s a pet cat instead of a piece of hair on his face.

“Yes, President Archambeau. But do you believe it would be worth it?” My mother’s sharp expression and no-nonsense demeanor have returned. She’s flipped a switch and she’s back to a politician in mere seconds.

“Yes, I do,” Archambeau responds, looking around the table. “It would be an endeavor that would require several countries’ help and years’ long work. Does the Committee wish to provide aid?”

“England will help,” the lady who sent a smile my way speaks up, her voice unwavering.

“France as well,” Archambeau adds.

“Australia.”

“Denmark.”

“Finland.”

“Germany.”

“Greece.”

“Iceland.”

“Ireland.”

“Italy.”

“Mexico.”

“New Zealand.”

“Norway.”

“Portugal.”

“Switzerland.”

As ambassadors from powerful countries speak their agreement, my eyes well with tears. They are willing to provide Scientists, resources, time, and training to help our country, to help my people, and to administer the Elixir to every soul that needs it.

“Thank you for your agreement and your kindness,” my mother responds once the ambassador from Switzerland has given his word.

“Our second request may be a bit more contentious...” she starts, hesitation creeping in. I’ve never once seen my mother nervous. “We are asking for military action against New America. The new Secretary, Ludek Frankie, has committed crimes against humanity. Bombings of houses while homeowners are still inside, targeting specific members based on status and background, forcing citizens to pay for rights that should be freely given to them. Lastly, he has captured my son as a prisoner and flouted him around like a toy, like he is the mastermind behind the July 4th reveal of his wrongdoings.

“He is a nineteen-year-old boy who decided to stand up for what is right and risked his life in the process. If there is no intervention in bringing Frankie to a neutral state, my son will die in four days’ time as an enemy of the state. He will be used as a martyr, an example, of what’s to happen if orders aren’t followed.”

At my mother’s words, tears brim over and fall from my eyes. He will die in four days’ time. He will die in four days’ time. He will die in four days’ time.

“Ms. Veros, we are very sorry for your son’s capture. We hear your plea, and we do not consider it a small matter. As for Frankie’s crimes against humanity, we also acknowledge your accounts. Military action is normally not a matter the Committee would consider since it would be declaring international war. You must understand that. Due to the current circumstances, we will need some time to confer and reconvene. Could you and your group rejoin us in a few hours?” Archambeau asks, his hazel eyes glinting.

It wasn’t a complete no. But it wasn’t a complete yes, either. The weight on my chest partially lifts and I can breathe for just a moment. “Of course, President.” My mother nods and descends from the podium.

“Let’s go get some food from the pub I spotted on the way here,” the Prime Minister whispers. It’s so odd to hear something so normal, so unimportant, come from the mouth of one of the world’s most powerful men but, as we’ve stayed at his estate over the last three months, I’ve come to learn he’s just as human as we are. 

“Thank you, ambassadors,” he speaks loudly so all can hear. “We will be back to hear your decision.” He lifts himself from his seat, all of us following his lead.

Prime Minister Wallow walks with an air of authority as he heads toward the mahogany doors that take us back out to the hallway. As we exit the ancient building, the wind reaches toward me like a living entity, touching my cheeks and nose, making them red. But the crispness of the air heals my lungs and makes me feel alive. Then, I remember. We aren’t here for fun.

We are waiting to hear the verdict on whether my country and my brother will be saved.

 

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