Neverseen (2 page)

When Alden pressed the tiny disk against it, the level surged to full.

“I’ve been tempted to do that myself,” Dex admitted as he slipped the nexus off his wrist. “But I didn’t want to cheat.”

“Wise choice,” Alden agreed. “Having the ability to do something does not mean it’s the safest course of action. It also does not give us permission to break the law.”

“It does when the law is stupid,” Keefe argued.

“I wish I could disagree. But look at where we are.” Alden gathered their fallen pendants and tucked them into his cape pockets along with Dex’s nexus. “There was a time when I believed in the infallibility of our world. But now . . . we must rely on our own moral compasses. Right here”—he pressed his hand to his heart—“we know what is necessary and true. You all must hold to that and let it guide you through what
lies ahead. But I’ve let myself get sidetracked. Sophie, let’s take care of those nexuses.”

Thanks to Elwin, her overprotective physician, Sophie had to wear one on each wrist. He’d also locked her nexuses so they couldn’t unlatch, even though both of her meters were full. She’d faded several times during leaps—one of which had nearly killed her. But that was before the Black Swan had enhanced her concentration and healed her abilities.

Still, Sophie reached for the Fade Fuel she wore around her neck in case of emergencies. It hung next to her allergy remedy, both vials tucked safely under her T-shirt. She hadn’t needed either elixir in weeks, but she felt better having them. Especially as Alden produced a twisted silver key and unlocked each of her nexuses.

She stopped him as he examined her third black cuff. “That’s one of Dex’s inventions.”

“I call it the Sucker Punch,” Dex said proudly. “It releases a burst of air when you swing your arm, so you can punch way harder than normal.”

“Very clever,” Alden told him. “And a good thing for you to have. Though, Dex, I’m hoping you’ve learned the dangers of inventing new weapons.”

Dex’s shoulders drooped as he promised that he had. Dex had built the painful ability-restricting circlet that the Council had forced Sophie to wear, not realizing it would be her punishment for what had happened with the ogre king.

She nudged him with her elbow and smiled to remind him that she’d forgiven him. But he kept his eyes fixed on the floor.

“I think that takes care of everything,” Alden said. “Though you all must remember to look out for one another. Fitz and Biana, share your concentration with Dex when you’re leaping. And Keefe, I want you to help Sophie.”

“Oh, I
will
,” Keefe promised with a wink.

“We
all
will,” Fitz corrected.

“Hey, I can take care of myself,” Sophie argued. “I’m the one bringing us to Florence, remember?”

The blue leaping crystals all led to the same place in each Forbidden City, which would make it easier for someone to follow them. So they’d be teleporting to Italy, an ability only Sophie had—thanks to a surprise side effect of the way the Black Swan had altered her DNA.

“All of you can take care of yourselves,” Alden said, “but you are stronger when you work together. You must also have a leader to keep the team organized, so Fitz, since you’re the eldest, I’m putting you in charge.”

“Hey, wait a minute,” Keefe argued, “he’s only older by a few months.”

“Uh, by ‘few,’ you mean
eleven
,” Fitz corrected.

Dex snorted. “Dude, you guys are
old
.”

He glanced smugly at Sophie, and she blushed, hating that she’d been thinking the same thing.

Well . . . she didn’t think Fitz and Keefe were
old
, but they were definitely older than her.

She’d guessed that Keefe was fourteen, which would make Fitz at least fifteen—but they could be even older than that. . . .

It was hard to keep track of age in the Lost Cities. The elves didn’t pay that much attention to it, thanks to their indefinite lifespans. In fact, Sophie had no idea how old any of her friends actually were. No one ever mentioned their birthdays. Maybe that meant Sophie wasn’t supposed to care about age either—but she was very aware that she was only thirteen and a half, and the difference between her and the boys felt
huge
.

“Hey, I’m the one who knows where we’re going,” Fitz said. “So I’m in charge, and . . . I guess we should probably head out. Though, wait—what about Mom? Shouldn’t we say goodbye?”

Alden glanced at Biana. “Your mother has to take care of something at the moment. But she told me to tell you she’ll see you soon.”

Fitz didn’t look very satisfied by that answer. But he didn’t argue, either.

Alden turned to Sophie, not quite meeting her eyes. “I . . . offered Grady and Edaline a sedative a few minutes ago, and they decided to take it. We feared what would happen when they actually had to watch you leave. So they told me to tell you that they love you and that they left a note for you in your backpack.”

The lump in Sophie’s throat made it hurt for her to nod, but she forced herself to do it. Grady and Edaline were her adoptive family, and she hated leaving without seeing them. But she doubted they were strong enough to handle another tearful goodbye, given everything that had happened.

They’d lived in a deep fog of depression ever since they’d lost their only daughter, Jolie, to a fire seventeen years earlier. And now Sophie had discovered that Brant, Jolie’s former fiancé—who Grady and Edaline had been caring for as if he were part of their family—had been the one to set the fire that killed her. Brant had been hiding that he was a Pyrokinetic—the elves’ only forbidden talent—and joined the Neverseen because he hated living as a Talentless. But when Jolie discovered his betrayal and tried to convince him to change his ways, he lost his temper and sparked the flames that accidentally took her life.

The guilt and grief had left Brant dangerously unstable. He’d even tried to kill Grady and Sophie when they went to confront him. Grady had been so furious, he’d used his ability as a Mesmer to make Brant burn off his own hand. Sophie had barely managed to stop Grady before he went too far and ruined his own sanity. She’d also had to let Brant escape in order to get the information she needed to save her friends.

“All right, we’ve lost enough time,” Alden said, pulling the five of them close for a hug. “Remember, this is not goodbye forever. It is simply goodbye for now.”

Sophie felt tears slip down her cheeks as Fitz asked, “Do you want us to let you know when we get there?”

“No, I cannot know anything about what you’re doing. None of us can.”

“Do you think the Council will order memory breaks?” Sophie whispered.

“No, the Council will not sink to that level. Plus, they know we are too prominent and powerful. It is simply wise to be cautious. I promise there’s no reason to worry.”

Sophie sighed.

No reason to worry
were Alden’s favorite words. And she’d learned to never believe them.

“Come on,” Biana said, pulling open Everglen’s shimmering doors.

They tromped down the shadowy path in silence.

“I never thought I’d say this,” Keefe said, “but I really miss having Gigantor tagging along with us.”

Sophie nodded, wishing her seven-foot-tall goblin bodyguard was healthy enough to join them. Sandor had been thrown off an icy cliff during the ambush on Mount Everest and broken pretty much every bone in his body. Elwin had assured her that he’d be okay, but Sandor had a long road to recovery before him.

Not as long as the road we’re about to travel,
Sophie thought as she spotted Everglen’s enormous gates through the gloomy night. The glowing yellow bars absorbed all passing light, preventing anyone from leaping inside.

“Time to run,” Alden whispered.

Teleporting only worked when they were free-falling, and the bluffs they needed to jump off were beyond Everglen’s protection.

Fitz wiped his eyes. “Tell Mom we love her, okay?”

“We love you, too, Dad,” Biana added.

“And don’t let the Councillors anywhere near my family,” Dex begged.

“You have my word,” Alden promised. “And I won’t let them near Grady and Edaline, either.”

Sophie nodded, her mind racing with a million things she wanted to say. Only one really mattered. “Don’t let Grady go after Brant.”

Alden took her hands. “I won’t.”

Everyone looked at Keefe.

“Tell my dad . . . that I’ve been hiding his favorite cape in a closet on the twenty-ninth floor. But don’t tell him the door is rigged with gulon gas. Let him find that out on his own.”

“Is that really all you want to say, Keefe?” Alden asked.

Keefe shrugged. “What else is there?”

Alden wrapped Keefe in a hug and whispered something in Keefe’s ear. Whatever it was made Keefe’s eyes water.

Sophie’s eyes did the same as Alden opened the gates.

The five friends stared at the towering forest and locked hands.

Slowly, together, they took the first step into the darkness. They’d just crossed the threshold when a cloaked figure stepped out of the shadows—not a black cloak like the Neverseen wore.

A diamond-encrusted silver cloak.

The style worn by the Councillors.

I
T’S OKAY,” A
fragile voice promised as the figure threw back her shimmering hood. Blond ringlets cascaded around the beautiful, familiar face of a weary-looking Councillor Oralie.

Her pink-jeweled circlet was noticeably absent as she told them, “I came here on my own.”

Alden lowered his hand, which was holding a melder—a small silver gadget that caused instant, painful paralysis. “How long before the others arrive?”

“Not long. Bronte and Terik are still arguing, but they will gain nothing. There is too much fear and fury clouding the others’ reason.” Oralie trailed her graceful fingers across her arms, shivering in the moonlight. She was an Empath, like Keefe and
his father, and Sophie had never seen her look so pained.

“What will their punishments be?” Alden asked.

Oralie lowered her eyes. “Dex and Keefe will be suspended until midterm and placed under constant chaperone. Fitz and Biana will be suspended for a week and given a month of Sanctuary service—”

“Wait a minute,” Dex interrupted. “How come they get off easier?”

“Their family holds a tremendous legacy in our world,” Oralie reminded him.

The Vackers were practically elvin royalty. They had more relatives in the nobility than any other family. Meanwhile, Dex’s father had never manifested a special ability, and talent was all that mattered in the Lost Cities, not wealth or skin color or age. The elves considered it a fair way of separating people. But Sophie wasn’t sure there was any fair way to separate people. Those without abilities couldn’t join the nobility, and if they married anyone except another Talentless, it was ruled a “bad match.” Dex’s mother had married Dex’s father anyway, but the scorn had haunted Dex his whole life.

“So that’s how it is?” Keefe asked. “Now that we know the truth about my mom, my family’s garbage?”

“Not
garbage
,” Oralie corrected. “But your father has been removed as an Emissary. The Councillors do not trust that an Empath could be completely blind to his wife’s betrayal.”

Keefe blinked several times, then barked a loud, cold laugh.
“Well, I guess I can’t say my mom never did anything for me. I almost wish I could be there when you break the news.”

Title and stature meant everything to Keefe’s father, often at the expense of kindness and love toward his son. So Sophie could understand Keefe’s rejoicing—but she was surprised to feel a sliver of sympathy for Lord Cassius. In one night he’d lost his wife
and
his beloved title. And in the morning he’d discover his only son had run away.

“What about me?” Sophie asked. “What did they decide for my punishment?”

“That is still the subject of much debate,” Oralie said quietly, “but most likely they will banish you to Exillium.”

Sophie couldn’t decide which part of that sentence was more terrifying. She knew nothing about the mysterious school called Exillium, but she’d been told many times that she did
not
want to go there. And to be
banished
?

Sure, she was running away—but banishment sounded so permanent.

“Exillium is relegated to the Neutral Territories,” Oralie whispered, “a part of our world far too dangerous for you to visit. Especially now.”

“Why especially now?” Alden asked.

“The ogres are stirring—at least, that is what I fear. Which is why I came to give you this.” Oralie snapped her fingers and a small glass sphere appeared in her palm. Sophie hadn’t realized Oralie was a Conjurer.

“Your cache?” Alden said, taking a step back.

“Actually, this is Kenric’s,” Oralie corrected. “He gave it to me, before he . . .”

She didn’t say the final word, but it cut deep all the same. Councillor Kenric had been one of the first Councillors Sophie had met, and he’d quickly become one of her favorites. He’d been warm and kind and quick to smile, and had always taken her side. But he’d been murdered a few weeks ago, during Fintan’s disastrous healing.

Fintan was the Pyrokinetic who’d trained Brant for the Neverseen. He’d suffered a memory break for his treason, but had managed to protect his secrets. When Sophie discovered she could heal minds, the Council ordered her to heal Fintan, and during the healing, Fintan had found the strength to spark an inferno of Everblaze.

Sophie had managed to grab Fitz and Oralie and teleport to safety—but Kenric had been lost to the flames. Sophie’s only consolation was that Fintan died in his own blaze.

Oralie took Sophie’s hand, placing the cache carefully in her palm. Seven glittering stones were set inside, each a different color.

“Kenric made me promise to give this to you if anything happened to him,” she whispered, “to make sure you’d be protected.”

“Does that mean he suspected his life was in danger?” Alden asked.

“We both did. Though I should’ve done more to help.” Tears slipped down Oralie’s cheeks. “I should’ve done so many things.”