It felt like falling—and the darkness raced up to catch him.

A soothing pool of black that swallowed him whole, until there was nothing left.

Now he was safe.

Everyone was safe.

And the world was blissfully quiet.

So was his tired brain, which slowly shut down.

The darkness turned thicker and thicker while Keefe sank as far as he could go.

Hoping he’d never find a way back.

* * *

“HE’S FINALLY AWAKE!” someone shouted, making Keefe groan as the much-too-loud voice sliced through his brain.

He cracked his eyes open, sucking air through his teeth when the brightness blasted out everything.

It took several painful blinks before the world faded into focus again, and Keefe realized he was back in his room—and if the crick in his neck was any indication, he’d been there for a while.

“You’ve been out for about five hours,” Elwin said, and Keefe’s eyes darted toward the doorway to find the physician standing with a plate of food and a bottle of Youth. “Figured it’d be good to get some nutrients in your system before I give you any medicine for the headache and nausea.”

Keefe groaned. “No more medicine.”

“Hey, he speaks!” Ro said.

She didn’t sound nearly as enthusiastic as she had been.

“Yeah, I know,” Elwin told Keefe. “We’ve done a number on your system. But I’m only using normal remedies now. They’ll help, I promise.”

Keefe was too tired to argue.

The food and Youth and elixirs actually did make him feel more normal. He even managed to sit up and comb his fingers through his sweaty hair.

“In case you’re wondering,” Elwin said as he gathered the empty plates and vials, “Kesler and I have decided to take a break from trying to treat your ability medicinally. I suppose we should’ve known better. Abilities are a part of who we are. They don’t get affected by elixirs. We just thought yours might be different, since it’s so… unique.”

The better word would’ve been “unnatural.”

But it wasn’t safe for Keefe to say that.

It was never going to be safe for him to speak.

Or to be around people.

Or to have any sort of physical contact.

Or a life.

“Hey,” Elwin said, plopping down onto the bed. “That doesn’t mean we’re giving up. In fact, Dex left something he wants you to test.”

Keefe shook his head harder, but Elwin grabbed his hand, pressing something flat and cool and square into his palm. “Relax—it’s not one of his inventions. Dex wanted to make more tweaks to those before we try them. But he also had a theory that sounded pretty valid.”

Elwin pulled back his arm, and Keefe stared at the small silver Imparter.

“Dex thinks your commands will only work on people in the same room with you, since tone comes from emotion,” Elwin explained. “He said you’re probably transmitting some sort of emotional energy when you say the word, and that’s what causes the reaction—or helps, at least. And that’s something that can’t happen in an Imparter conversation.”

“He also said he knows you’re going to shake your head when we tell you to test it, because you’re scared and tired and convinced nothing is ever going to help,” Ro added. “So he said to tell you to trust the Technopath and hail him once you wake up so he can say, ‘I told you so.’ And I gotta say, I’m liking techy boy more and more. I think you should listen to him.”

“So do I,” Elwin agreed. “If you do end up commanding him, I’ll be right here with earplugs in to help you figure out a counter command—but I don’t think you’re going to need me. Every time you’ve used your ability, I’ve felt a strange ripple pass through the room. So I think Dex is onto something with this theory. You also won’t be able to feel what Dex is feeling—which is what seems to overwhelm you. But… there’s only one way to know for sure.”

Keefe tightened his grip on the Imparter, knowing the smarter, safer move would be to toss it against the wall as hard as he could, let it shatter into so many pieces, he’d never be able to use it.

But a tiny spark of hope had been kindled again.

“Go on, Hunkyhair,” Ro told him. “I have a good feeling about this.”

Keefe definitely didn’t.

But he still took a slow, calming breath, promising himself that if this failed, it would be his last test.

He was giving one final try—one final push against what his mom had done to him.

If it didn’t work… it was ability restrictor time.

He closed his eyes, trying to keep himself as relaxed as possible before he held the Imparter up to his lips. His mouth was parched and his voice sounded raw and crackly as he whispered, “Show me Dex.”

- ELEVEN - Sophie

Nope—we’re not having this argument again!” Sophie said, waiting for the room to quiet down before she added, “You guys have to stop freaking out any time something sounds a tiny bit dangerous—”

“This is more than a ‘tiny bit dangerous,’ ” Grady interrupted, pacing to the wall of windows and staring out at Havenfield’s pastures.

Sophie had kept her promise to Sandor and went straight home after Glimmer made her offer.

But that didn’t mean she was planning on staying there for very long.

“You’re talking about going to a Neverseen hideout with a member of the Neverseen,” Edaline gently reminded her.

“No, Glimmer’s a former member of the Neverseen,” Sophie corrected.

“So she claims,” Sandor snorted. “This whole thing could be a trap.”

“Glimmer wouldn’t do that!” Tam argued.

“Sadly, I don’t think that you—or anyone else here—can truly speak for what Glimmer would or wouldn’t do,” Tiergan said quietly.

Tam and Tiergan had insisted on being part of the conversation—as had Fitz and Biana. And Sophie was sure it was only a matter of time before Mr. Forkle showed up.

And the rest of the Black Swan.

And more of her friends.

And Sophie was done wasting that kind of time.

Especially since none of their planning and arguing and worrying and explaining ever seemed to save them from almost dying. That’s why she’d had the we-need-to-stop-overthinking-things fight with them before.

And still, here she stood, staring down a bunch of stubborn, worried faces.

She knew they were only trying to keep her safe—but she was really getting sick of having everyone question her and doubt her all the time and try to hold her back.

She was the moonlark.

This was what she was supposedly made for.

Wasn’t it time for people to start trusting her?

And didn’t the fact that she wasn’t dead—despite how many times the Neverseen had tried to kill her—prove that she was strong enough and smart enough and capable enough to know when a risk was worth taking and roll with whatever happened next?

Or… was she just getting more desperate and reckless?

“Look,” Sophie said, climbing up a few of the stairs on the curved central staircase to make it easier for everyone to see her. “We finally have an actual lead—and it’s for something we totally overlooked, so we’re lucky we’re getting a second chance. Whatever’s in that storehouse has been hidden right under our noses this entire time—probably while the Neverseen laughed at us for falling for their trick.”