“But they don’t seem to care,” Sophie mumbled.
“Then make them care. That’s one of your greatest gifts, Miss Foster—one we had nothing to do with. You’re a natural force for change. And here’s a chance to make a true difference.”
Her friends looked as nervous as Sophie felt, but they didn’t argue as they headed for their rooms.
Actually, Mr. Forkle transmitted to Sophie. If you could stay behind, there’s something I need to discuss with you . . . privately.
Sophie figured it had to do with the sick gnome or her visit to Foxfire. So she definitely wasn’t prepared when he told her, “I have news for Mr. Sencen.”
“Is it about his mom?” she asked, sinking into one of the chairs. She had a feeling this was the kind of conversation she wanted to be sitting down for.
“It is—but not in the manner you’re thinking. The news is about her past, not her present, and that’s why I’m sharing it with you. You seem to have a better sense of how Mr. Sencen is handling things, so I trust you to decide how we proceed from here. As you know, Councillor Oralie has been working with Lord Cassius, searching for clues to his wife’s Neverseen activities. And word has reached me that a few days ago they discovered a trunk hidden in Candleshade. I’m sure you can imagine how easy it would’ve been for the family to overlook it all these years.”
Sophie nodded. Keefe’s house had at least two hundred stories—but Sophie didn’t care about that. “What was in the trunk?”
“Lots of maps. The Council’s still working to determine their purpose. And a kit for making temporary leaping crystals, like the ones you use at Exillium. We’re assuming that’s one of the ways she slipped away to the Neverseen’s hideouts without anyone noticing.”
“And?” Sophie pressed, since none of that merited a private conversation.
“And . . . there was also a note. Lord Cassius wanted it returned to his son, so it found its way to me.”
He reached into his cape pocket and handed her a plain piece of paper that seemed too large for the tiny message scrawled at the top in loopy writing.
Dear Keefe,
I’m doing this for you.
Love, Mom
“So what are we going to do?” Mr. Forkle asked. “Tell Mr. Sencen? Or spare him?”
Sophie stared at the page, trying to decide what bothered her more: the word “love,” or all the blank space.
And she kept picturing the Keefe she’d seen in the physician’s tent, the angry scared Keefe lurking just under the surface.
But she’d promised Keefe she wouldn’t hide things from him, and this was a Very. Big. Thing.
“It’s not easy, is it?” Mr. Forkle asked. “Deciding how to protect someone you care about? I’m sorry to add this burden to you—especially after the day you’ve had. But I know you’re the one who will choose what’s best for him.”
Sophie sighed. “Can I think about it?”
“Take all the time you need. All I ask is that you warn me before you share it with him—if you decide to share it with him. Otherwise I’ll assume you’ve kept this to yourself.”
Sophie nodded and stumbled back to her room. She was up most of the night going back and forth, making up her mind and changing it the next instant.
Eventually, she tucked the note into her purple backpack in the cache’s old hiding place.
FORTY-NINE
ARRIVING AT EXILLIUM the next morning felt like a scene in a movie where the soundtrack scratched to silence and everyone turned to stare.
Fitz’s hand turned clammy in Sophie’s as the two of them stood together, with Keefe, Dex, and Biana flanking them on all sides.
They’d leaped to the middle of a sweltering desert, with the school’s tents scattered across the rolling dunes. Sophie saw no sign of the plague, but there was no life for it to contaminate. Not even a cactus or a scrubby bit of brush. Just endless dry sand, rippled by the wind and bleached white by the sun.
From the corner of her eye Sophie could see the Shade nod his approval, but she was too focused on the three Coaches stalking toward them, kicking up clouds of dust.
“So you’ve chosen the path of defiance,” the blue Coach said, his tone as heated as the air.
“We mean no disrespect,” Sophie told him. “Just like we meant none yesterday.”
“We were just trying to do the right thing,” Fitz added.
“And yet your ‘right thing’ disregarded our authority,” the red Coach said. “You understand the position this puts us in, don’t you?”
Sophie had a whole speech prepared, ready to shame the Coaches for their selfish lack of consideration. But as she studied the three figures in front of her—and the hoard of anxious Waywards gathered behind them—she realized the Coaches weren’t trying to be cruel. They were fighting an impossible battle, placed in charge of a group that even the highest authorities in the Lost Cities couldn’t control—without proper resources or backup to support their efforts.
They were simply struggling to keep their fragile hold.
“Sometimes the greatest power comes from showing mercy,” she told them quietly. “Especially to those who may not deserve it.”
The Coaches looked at each other, something silent passing between them.
“Aren’t we all hoping for a second chance?” Sophie added.
Several agonizingly long seconds crawled by before the red Coach nodded—only once, but the small movement was enough.
“Don’t make us regret this,” the blue Coach said.
“We won’t,” Fitz promised as the red Coach ordered everyone to disperse to their tents.
Sophie plodded through the sand, nearly losing her balance when her purple Coach came up beside her.
“The gnome we saw yesterday,” her Coach whispered. “Is he . . . ?”
“He’s in quarantine with the others,” Sophie told her. “Still waiting for someone to discover the cure. So if you’ve seen anything in the Neutral Territories that might be helpful . . .”
“I haven’t,” the Coach said. She started to walk away, then slowed her pace long enough to add, “But I will keep my eyes open.”
“Thank you,” Sophie said.
They’d reached the tent by then, and her Coach ordered everyone to grab their mats and drag them into the sweltering sun. The rest of the day was very long and hot and sweaty as they practiced body temperature regulation. Around the third blistering hour, Sophie learned to shift her concentration to her cells and turned her skin hyperaware to any traces of coolness. Then the tiniest breeze felt like a blast of arctic wind and the slightest trickle of sweat felt like a bucket of ice water.
When the sun sank low enough to stretch the shadows into angled smudges, the Shade’s whispered voice filled her mind.
“How were you not arrested yesterday?” he asked.
I still have a few friends in the Lost Cities. She debated a second before adding, I hope I have a couple here, too.
“You already have the four you came with,” he reminded her. “Do you really have room for more?”
Can you have too many friends? she asked.
He was silent for a long time. Then he whispered, “I wouldn’t know.”
The next day Exillium brought them to the side of a rocky mountain, where a gaping hole granted entrance into a dark cavern. The Coaches led them inside, and they walked farther and farther until the damp, black air blotted out the light.
“Today you’ll be improving your night vision,” the Coaches said in unison, their voices echoing off the cavern walls. “Let your eyes adjust and your mind will do the rest.”
It sounded far simpler than it turned out to be.
Sophie tried everything she could think of, but all she ever saw was inky darkness. And the longer it surrounded her, the heavier it felt, until she had to remind herself that she could still breathe and the air wasn’t running out.
“Are you afraid of the dark?” the Shade whispered in her head.
I
’m afraid of things that use darkness to hide, she told him.
“Creepy crawly things?” he asked.
Those aren’t my favorite, she admitted.
“But clearly not what’s making you shiver,” he said. “Monsters, then?”
His whispered voice was teasing, but Sophie couldn’t smile.
She’d been kidnapped from a cave—which probably wasn’t the best memory to relive at the moment.
Monsters come in all shapes and sizes.
“Like the ones behind the plague?”
What do you mean? she asked. Did you see something?
“I’ve seen a lot of things.”
Like what?
Her eyes were finally adjusting—or maybe her mind was—because blurry forms were taking shape around her. The closest silhouette was the Shade.
Like what? she transmitted again, leaning closer.
He backed a step away. “Not now.”
When? she pressed.
“When I know whether or not I can trust you.”
He vanished into the shadows, taking his whispers with him.
By the time they’d reached the end of the week, Sophie had never been so tired, between the long Exillium days and the late nights of Cognate training. But she was more tired of the lack of progress. Her friends had been trying to learn about the Psionipath, but their Coaches were too guarded to answer their questions. And the campus had moved to yet another location without the slightest trace of plague.
They’d leaped to a glassy lake at the base of a snowcapped mountain to practice holding their breath, and two small tents had been added so they could change into wetsuits. Swim caps covered their hair and enormous goggles covered their faces, and they waded into the chilly water to float facedown and try to stay there.
It was the most brutal skill yet, and Sophie’s lungs were constantly screaming, BREATHE NOW OR YOU WILL DIE! Even the Hydrokinetic struggled with the assignment—in fact, she seemed to have it harder than anyone. As soon as she’d put her face in the water she’d thrash and flail, and when the Shade tried to calm her she kept mumbling, “I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.”
By the second hour, the girl was in tears, and Sophie realized she might be able to help.
I can keep you calm, she transmitted to the girl. But I wanted to ask before I tried it. If you don’t want me to, make a sound so I know.
The girl stayed silent.
Okay, here goes.
Inflictors were only supposed to be able to inflict negative emotions, but thanks to Sophie’s alicorn-inspired DNA, she could trigger positive emotions as well. She closed her eyes and replayed a bunch of memories that made her feel happy and calm, letting the feelings gather in her heart until it felt like her chest would burst. Then she shoved the heat away, sending it shooting across the water. She couldn’t tell if it was working, but the Hydrokinetic stayed quiet, so she kept sending additional waves.
She was so focused on her inflicting that she forgot about everything else. It wasn’t until two hands pulled her out of the lake that she realized she hadn’t been breathing.
“It appears we have a new record!” her purple Coach announced. “Forty-six minutes.”
“Forty-six?” Sophie gasped for breath, wincing at the burn in her lungs.
Her Coach helped her wade back to shore and gave her a fraying gray towel to dry off. “Take one hundred deep breaths and your head will clear.”
Around breath seventy-three, a shadow slid across hers and the Shade’s voice filled her mind. “You want to know what we know?”
Of course, she transmitted.
“Okay.” She waited for him to say something, but he turned and walked away.
After they’d gotten their beads and changed into their regular uniforms, though, he slunk up beside her and whispered, “Now or never.”
The Hydrokinetic girl held a scratched yellow crystal up to the sunlight, and Sophie tried to think through the risks as she reached for the Shade’s offered hand.
I’ll be back soon, she transmitted to Fitz.
The light pulled her away before he could respond.
FIFTY
THE LEAP FELT shakier than normal, or maybe that was Sophie. She couldn’t believe she’d left Exillium with two strangers—without even asking where she was going.
They’d leaped to a place that had probably once been a beautiful garden. But now the cascading vines and enormous trees looked withered and crunchy and speckled with plague.
“Where are we?” Sophie asked.
“Introductions first,” the Shade said, throwing back his hood and tearing off his mask.
The Hydrokinetic girl did the same, and Sophie was stunned by the similarities between them. They both had the same pink lips and creamy complexion. But the biggest similarity was their eyes—the palest of pale blue, with flecks of silver glinting in the sunlight. Touches of silver in their hair enhanced the effect. The girl’s waist-length jet-black hair looked like the ends had been dipped in platinum, and the tips of the boy’s jagged bangs glinted every time he tossed them out of his eyes.
Together they looked like K-pop idols, or like they’d stepped straight out of anime. But Sophie realized the more logical option was, “You’re brother and sister.”
“Twins,” the Shade corrected. “Is that going to be a problem?”
“Why would it . . . ,” Sophie started to ask, then remembered how rare multiple births were in the Lost Cities—and how judgmental most elves were when it happened. “Of course not,” she promised. “I know what it’s like to be different.”
She threw back her hood and pulled off her mask, not missing the way they gawked at her eyes.
The Shade glanced at his sister before he said, “I’m Tam, and this is Linh.”
Sophie smiled. “I’m Sophie.”
“That’s a human name,” Tam said.
“It is.” Sophie realized then that Tam and Linh wouldn’t have heard any of the gossip about her. Judging by the length of their necklaces—long enough to wrap around their necks four times—they’d been at Exillium way before her arrival to the Lost Cities. In fact, she doubted they knew about anything that had happened over the last year, except whatever they’d seen in the Neutral Territories.
“So where are we?” she asked again.
“Home sweet home.” Tam kicked a piece of rotted, speckled fruit.
“It used to be beautiful,” Linh said. “We used to feel so lucky to have found it. But that was before the gnomes fell ill.”
“Wait,” Sophie said, climbing on a fallen trunk to get a better view. Farther down the weed-lined path she spotted a grove of black, collapsing trees with colored pieces of wood in their trunks, like doors. “Was this the Wildwood Colony?”
Linh nodded. “They used to bring us dinner every night, and I loved falling asleep to their songs.” She brushed aside a blackened vine as she whispered, “Do you know what’s happened to them?”
“Only that they’re in quarantine—and that they’re all still alive,” Sophie added to reassure her. “But wait . . . you’re the teenagers who made the footprints they found?”
“Who are they?” Tam demanded.
Sophie stumbled back a step as she told him, “The Council investigated after the colonists arrived at Lumenaria.”
The twins might look similar, but their personalities were opposites. Linh was a baby bird. Tam was a stalking tiger.
“I wouldn’t call it an investigation.” Tam snorted. “They didn’t seem to care. They were here for five whole minutes, scraped some bark and gathered a few leaves. They didn’t even ask us about the lights.” He pointed to the speckled forest in the distance. “We’d been seeing white flashes for weeks before the plague hit. We tried to find what was causing them, but it was coming from somewhere across the ogres’ borders.”
“You’ve seen ogres?” Sophie asked.
“Not recently.” He turned toward the dark mountains to the east. “But Ravagog is through that pass.
”
The name slipped icy pins into Sophie’s spine. “Do you think the lights were connected to the plague?”
She wondered how brightly a force-fielded tree could glow—enough to be seen from that far away?
“You ask a lot of questions,” Tam said, making a slow circle around her.
“I thought you brought me here to tell me everything you know,” she countered.
“I don’t remember promising everything,” he said.
“She’s trying to help the gnomes,” Linh reminded him. “Just like she helped me today. You must think me so foolish, by the way—a Hydrokinetic afraid of drowning.”
“Hey, having an ability doesn’t mean everything’s suddenly easy,” Sophie told her.
“Said the girl with four abilities.” Tam leaned closer, squinting at her Teleporter pin. “So the big question is—what did you do to get banished?”
“Most of the Councillors wanted me gone the moment they knew I existed,” Sophie admitted. “I just finally gave them a good enough reason. What about you guys?”
Tam started to shake his head, but Linh put her hand on his shoulder.
“She can know the truth, Tam. It was my fault.” She raised her hands and mist swarmed around them, glinting with a million rainbows. “Water pleads for my attention. But too often it’s a trick.”
As she spoke, the mist thickened into a storm that soaked them with a heavy downpour.
“I became the Girl Of Many Floods,” she whispered. “And after too many mistakes, my parents had no choice but to let them banish me.”
“They had a choice,” Tam spat.
“You’ll have to excuse my brother. He carries more bitterness than I do. But he doesn’t have to be here—”
“Yes,” Tam interrupted, “I do.”
His voice had softened. So had the angles of his face.
“No one sentenced my brother to Exillium,” Linh explained. “He chose to stay with me.”
“I didn’t want her to face this alone,” he mumbled. “And I wouldn’t stay with my family anyway. They’d always wished they didn’t have the shame of twins. I wasn’t going to let them pass me off as an only child.”