Stay with me.

Stay with me.

Almost there.

And they were.

The path curved enough to show her the exit—still forever away. But she could make it.

Go.

Faster.

Stay with me, Keefe.

We’ve got this.

But some of King Enki’s guards had clearly been waiting for her—jumping out of the shadows.

Stomping their furry feet.

And the ground rumbled hard, nearly knocking Sophie over as cracks shredded the path ahead, trying to force her to turn around.

But she’d come too far.

Too far.

Faster.

Faster.

Faster.

She’d jump the cracks if she had to.

Or levitate.

Or…

She didn’t finish the thought, because her instincts took over.

Focusing on the friction of her feet.

The rush of her sprint.

The thrill of the speed.

It felt like flying.

No.

It felt like falling.

And with that thought, warm, tingly energy burst out of her mind, unraveling a tiny thread in the space in front of her, a gap just wide enough for her to charge through, and…

She didn’t know how to describe it.

Somehow she just sort of… skipped.

One second the cracks were there.

The next, they were already behind her.

And when she pushed more energy out of her mind…

She skipped again.

And again.

Farther leaps each time.

The energy replenishing itself by the power of her sprint.

And she realized she was no longer in Loamnore.

She’d made it to the desert, kicking up clouds of sand as she ran.

Which meant it was time to levitate, but…

Maybe she didn’t need to.

A fresh rush of warm energy flooded her brain. Fueled by the triumph of freedom and escape. And she shoved it out of her mind, telling Keefe, Stay with me, stay with me, stay with me, as a crack split the space in front of her and she charged into the void.

FIFTY-TWO

THE GOOD NEWS IS, HE’S alive,” Elwin said, snapping his fingers to form an orb of purple light around Keefe’s torso. “And his vitals are strong.”

That was good news.

And Sophie was grateful for every heartbeat and every rise and fall of Keefe’s chest—even if both were definitely a little too fast at the moment.

She was also extremely happy that Bullhorn was paying them zero attention. He’d barely lifted his little banshee head when Sophie had stumbled into the Healing Center and handed Keefe over to Elwin.

But.

“What’s the bad news?” she asked, wrapping her arms around her knees and curling into a Sophie-ball.

Elwin had made her lie down on the cot next to Keefe’s when he saw how wobbly she was from her crazy run. And of course he’d also insisted on checking her for injuries.

But she was fine.

Nothing to worry about.

Except the fact that Keefe was still staring blankly at nothing. And when she’d tried listening to his thoughts, his mind was gray and silent.

“The bad news,” Elwin said, running a hand down his face before adjusting his iridescent spectacles, “is that I have no idea what’s going on. I’ve never heard of the treatments you described. I mean… obviously Lady Gisela’s been playing with the elements, trying to affect abilities. And I’m assuming the reason she used magsidian and ethertine instead of pure shadowflux and quintessence is because the elements would’ve been more… I guess ‘organic’ is the word I’m looking for, since they’d fused with the earth when the stones were formed. And I think that was probably a smart call, by the way. I think that’s why I’m not seeing any echoes.”

“None?” Sophie asked, sitting up.

Recovering from her own echoes had been one of the hardest things she’d ever done. So if Keefe wouldn’t have to endure that…

“See?” Elwin said. “More good news.”

“It is.” And she tried to smile.

But she still noticed the way Elwin’s frown deepened every time he flashed another orb of light and squinted through his spectacles.

First blue.

Then red.

Orange.

Yellow.

Green.

And Keefe just kept right on staring at nothing.

“Is he in a coma?” she had to ask.

Elwin shook his head. “I think it’s more that his consciousness is tucked away right now, because the rest of him is in so much flux.”

“Flux?” Sophie repeated, hating that word.

“Well… judging by all the shifts I’m seeing in his cells, I’m pretty sure he’s going through a kind of… transformation.”

“Great,” Sophie mumbled, hating that word so much more.

And she couldn’t stop her brain from flashing to the nightmares she’d seen in Keefe’s head—the scenes that had reminded her too much of Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde.

“Easy now, Miss Dramatic. For the record—I see these same kinds of shifts whenever anyone manifests. So my guess is, Keefe’s getting a brand-new ability.”

That… sounded less scary—and matched the things Alvar had told them.

But…

“What ability?” she wondered.

“I guess we’ll find out when he wakes up.”

Sophie sighed, telling herself not to cry—but her tear ducts wouldn’t obey. “I hate that his mom gets to change him like this.”

Elwin sat beside her on the cot, offering her a soft handkerchief. “Okay, I’m usually not the one who has to say all the smart, pep-talky things. So bear with me on this, okay? The thing you have to remember is… everything changes us. Every day we live. Every person we meet. Every experience, good or bad. That’s what makes us who we are. What shapes our thoughts—our decisions. And the changes always work on two levels: what happened and how we respond. So, yes, this… is going to change Keefe—just like it’s going to change you and me and everyone else who cares about our favorite Lord Hunkyhair. But… that’s just what happened. We all still get to decide how we’ll respond. And if I know Keefe, he’ll find a way to become even more awesome. Trust me, Sophie. Nothing will ever stop Keefe Sencen from being Keefe Sencen. Think of how many things have already tried.”

And that… was probably the best point he’d made.

Keefe had survived huge betrayals and years of mind games and abuse.

And he’d still sounded like him before his mind went quiet.

Just tired.

Which made her wonder. “Do you think we should give him a sedative?”

Elwin clutched his chest, then spun her toward him and flashed an orb of orange light around her head. “Okay, who are you, and what did you do with the sedative-hating Sophie Foster?”

“I wasn’t saying for me,” Sophie reminded him. “I just know Keefe really wanted to sleep when it was all over. And that doesn’t look like sleep.”

“It is and it isn’t. It’s a kind of restful wakefulness—and yes, I realize those seem like opposite things. But that’s the only way I can think to describe it. And since I know so little about what’s happening to him, I’m a little reluctant to mess with it. I think it’s better to keep a very close eye on him and let this run its course.”