Keeper of the Lost Cities

THIRTY-THREE

ALDEN LED HER ALONG THE BANKS of the river that cut a winding path through the heart of Eternalia. “Do you know what these trees are called?” he asked, pointing to the mammoth trunks all around them. Burnt sienna bark braided up to the hunter green leaves, which fanned out like paintbrushes.

“No,” Sophie admitted. She’d seen them around—there were even a few at Havenfield—but she never thought to ask what they were.

“Their full name is Purfoliage palmae, but everyone calls them the Pures, because their leaves filter the air, keeping out any pollution or impurities. Every house and city has at least one to keep the air clean, and with so many growing here, Eternalia has the freshest, crispest air in the world.” He frowned at the sky, where a tinge of gray fuzzed through the blue. “Well, it does when there isn’t a fire nearby—but that’s not important. Do you wonder why I ask?”

She nodded.

“I was thinking how strange it is that you don’t know the name of one of our most common trees—and yet you knew the name and location of a star only a handful of us have ever heard of, and only the Councillors know how to find.”

She stared at her feet. “I don’t know why. Honestly.”

“I know, Sophie. No one thinks what happened is your fault. But we are concerned about what else might be stored away in that mind of yours.”

Her head snapped up. “You think there’s other stuff?”

“It’s possible. You knew how to read the cipher runes on those scrolls, didn’t you?”

Her blood ran cold. Was that what Quinlin meant about her being a Keeper, all those months ago? “But . . . how would it get there?”

“We don’t know.” The hesitation in his voice said otherwise, and it made her desperate to shove into his thoughts. But she was in enough trouble already. And maybe she didn’t want to know. . . .

“Is that what Emery said to you at the end?” She remembered Alden’s quick nod. “He told you something telepathically, didn’t he?”

“You are observant, aren’t you?” He sighed. “He was giving me another instruction for you.”

Her stomach lurched. “Is it bad?”

“Of course not. Come with me.”

He took her hand and leaped them to the edge of Eternalia, where a row of identical crystal castles glowed pink and orange in the sunset.

“Where are we?” Sophie asked as he led her toward the farthest one.

“These are the Councillors’ offices. You have an appointment with Councillor Terik.”

Her legs went weak from nerves, and she missed a step on the way to the door. Alden steadied her before she fell.

The door opened before Alden knocked, and an elf with wavy brown hair and an emerald-encrusted circlet examined Sophie with curious, cobalt blue eyes. She dropped a shaky curtsy as Alden bowed.

“Do you want me to stay?” Alden asked.

Terik waved him away. “It works better one-on-one—you know that.”

“Then I’ll be back in ten minutes.” He squeezed Sophie’s shoulder. “Just relax, Sophie. No reason to worry.”

She nodded, her mouth too dry to speak.

Terik led her inside, to an oval sitting room off the main entryway. He motioned for her to take a seat in one of the plush armchairs, and sat across from her. “Did Alden explain why you’re here?”

She shook her head, unable to find her voice.

He laughed, a soft, pleasing sound, which rang off the crystal walls and lifted the heavy atmosphere of the room. “There’s no need to be afraid. What’s about to happen is quite an honor. Parents beg me to do this for their children and I refuse. Causes too many problems.” He sighed. “It’s quite a burden being the only Descryer.”

He seemed to be waiting for a response, so she nodded again.

“You have no idea what that means, do you?”

She hesitated a second before shaking her head.

“How delightfully refreshing. It means I can sense potential. So you can see why parents are always clamoring for me to meet their children. I used to agree, but then I noticed how often it backfired. Potential is nothing if it’s never lived up to, now is it?”

She cleared her throat, realizing she hadn’t said a word since she’d arrived. “No.”

“She speaks! I was beginning to wonder if you’d forgotten how.” He smiled. “I know you’re nervous, Sophie, but I promise, you have no reason to be. The Council decided that—given today’s unusual circumstances—it might be a good idea for me to see what I sense about you. It’s painless, I promise. All I have to do is hold your hands and concentrate. Do you think you can handle that?” He extended his hands to her.

She hesitated half a second before placing her hands in his. A tiny part of her feared what he would find, but she also understood that this wasn’t optional. She took a deep breath as he closed his eyes, counting the seconds to stay calm.

Five hundred thirteen seconds passed before he opened his eyes again.

“Fascinating,” he whispered, staring into space.

Another 327 seconds passed before he released her hands and stood up. “Incredible.”

“Am I allowed to know what you sensed?” she asked quietly.

“I would tell you if I knew what to say. I felt something—something strong. But I couldn’t tell what it was.”

She already knew the answer, but she had to ask. “Has that ever happened before?”

“No. It’s definitely a first.” He moved toward the door, opening it before Alden could knock.

Alden glanced between Terik and Sophie. “How did it go?”

“Interesting,” Terik murmured, his mind far away.

When he said no more, Alden turned to Sophie. “Are you ready to go home?”

She nodded. Terik didn’t say goodbye, and he was still standing there, lost in his own thoughts, as the light swept them away.

ALDEN HANDED HER A PARCEL wrapped in green paper when they reached Havenfield. “The Council also insisted you keep one of these.”

She unwrapped the thick teal book, running her fingers across the silver bird etched into the cover. It had long legs like a crane, sweeping tail feathers like a peacock, and a curved neck like a swan. “It’s beautiful.”

“It’s a memory log.” He opened the book to the smooth white pages inside. “Has Tiergan taught you how to project?”

She nodded.

“Good. The Council wants you to keep track of your memories—to see if we find any that aren’t yours.”

“How do I do that?” They couldn’t expect her to record every memory she’d ever had. That would be impossible.

“Just record anything that seems important. And record all the dreams you remember.”

She bit her lip. “Even the nightmares?”

“Have you been having nightmares?”

“Sometimes.” Since school started she’d stopped having them every night, but at least once a week she still woke up in a cold sweat. “Sometimes I dream that my family is trapped in a burning house, trying to get out.” She shivered as the terrifying images flashed through her mind.

Alden was quiet for a second before he said softly, “Your family is safe, Sophie. You have no reason to worry about them.”

She met his eyes. “You won’t tell me what’s going on with the fires?”

He took a step back, like he needed distance between her and her question.

“Do the fires have something to do with me?” She held her breath as he seemed to debate about his answer.

“I . . . don’t know,” he whispered. “Which is why this memory log is so important. I’ll be checking it regularly to see if there’s anything useful. Make sure you record those nightmares.”

She nodded.

“There’s a good girl.” He pulled her in for a one-armed hug, then froze. “You haven’t told Grady and Edaline about those dreams, have you?”

“No. Why?”

“Jolie died in a fire. Didn’t they tell you?”

She shook her head. “They never talk about her. I don’t think they know that I know.”

Sadness crept across his face in thin lines. “It’s hard for them. You can’t imagine how hard. Death is such a common thing for humans. For us . . .” He stared into the distance. “Her fiancé’s house caught fire. He tried to save her, but there wasn’t time. He barely made it out alive, and even then . . .” He didn’t finish, but something in his eyes told her it did not end well.

Sophie tried not to imagine the horror he was describing. Burning to death—the thought alone made her shudder. “I won’t mention the dreams, I promise.”

“Thank you.” He smiled sadly, and left her.

She went straight to her room and closed the door.

Projecting her nightmares into the memory log was easy. Seeing them so vividly was awful. Her whole body shook as she stared at her terrified family surrounded by smoke and flames. She slammed the log shut, hiding it behind her bookshelf so no one could find it.

Desperate to replace those horrifying images, she grabbed her old scrapbook and sank onto her bed. She hadn’t touched it since the day Dex looked through it.

She never made it past the cover.

Edaline found her later, still staring at the closed album. “Everything okay?”

Sophie jumped, pressing the scrapbook into her chest. “I’m fine.” Her voice sounded sharper than she meant it to be.

Edaline frowned. “Dinner’s waiting downstairs.”

The thought of food turned her stomach. “I’m not really hungry. But thanks.”

“Oh . . . okay.” Edaline sat next to her on the bed. “Did something happen with Alden? You can tell me.” She reached out to stroke Sophie’s arm, but Sophie flinched—afraid Edaline might touch the scrapbook.

Edaline retracted her hand, looking anywhere but Sophie.

“Sorry, I didn’t—” Sophie started.

Edaline waved away the apology, forcing a smile on her lips as she stood. “Don’t worry about it. You want to be alone. I’ll send some dinner up later, in case you get hungry.”

Sophie watched her leave, hating herself for hurting Edaline’s feelings. But she’d have to set it right later. Right now she had bigger problems.

She took a deep breath and forced herself to look at the photo mounted to the cover of the scrapbook again, to make sure her eyes weren’t playing tricks on her.

Bile rose in her throat.

There she was, eleven years old, building a sand castle on the beach. But it wasn’t an imaginary castle, like she’d thought it was at the time.

She recognized that castle.

She’d been inside it this afternoon.

The twisted turrets. The sweeping arches. It was an exact replica of the crystal castles in Eternalia.

So how could she build a model of it a year before she knew it existed?