Neverseen

by Shannon Messenger

  She didn’t trust him, though, so she went with something safe.

  Can you tell your Hydrokinetic friend “thank-you” for saving me?

  His shadow slipped over hers again, and she could almost feel his eyes studying her. “You’re different,” his voice whispered. “I can’t decide if that’s a good thing.”

  It is, she transmitted, surprised at how much she wanted him to believe her.

  He walked away without another word.

  FORTY-FOUR

  THE FIVE FRIENDS held hands as they leaped away from Exillium, and all the Coaches and Waywards stared.

  “I don’t think we’re doing so great at the whole ‘blending in’ thing,” Keefe said as they reappeared in a gray-skied forest. “Which is why you guys are my favorite.”

  “What happened here?” Biana whispered as she turned toward the trees. Their trunks were unnaturally bent and crooked. “It’s not the plague, is it?”

  “No, the forest has been like this for decades,” Sophie said. “I remember seeing pictures of this place on the Internet.”

  “The Internet,” Dex snorted. “Humans and their technology.”

  “It looks like somebody bent them intentionally,” Fitz said, tracing his hand down one of the C-shaped trunks.

  “I did.” Calla dropped into the clearing from the top of one of the trees. “I sang to them, and they followed my voice.”

  “Why only these trees?” Sophie asked. There were hundreds with the same distinct shape, but the forest beyond was straight and normal.

  Calla placed her palm against the sharpest part of the curve, where the tree stood only inches above the ground. “These trees were dying. My friends told me I should uproot them to spare the rest of the forest. But I could feel too much life in their trunks to pluck them from the ground.”

  “How did you save them?” Biana asked.

  “I listened. And I realized their voices had been silenced. So I gave them mine. I sang of sunlight and rain and rich soil. And hope. Always hope.” She moved to another tree, one that had the widest curve of them all, and lay in the slope of its trunk. “For a week I stayed right here. I didn’t stop, even to rest my throat. I could barely rasp by the end, but I could feel their strength returning. They’ll forever bear the mark of their trials, but they are survivors. Proof that anything can be overcome.”

  Keefe sat on one of the curved trunks, and Sophie waited for him to make a joke. But he just slid his fingers over the rough bark.

  “I thought we could all use the reminder that nature tells us what it needs,” Calla whispered. “That’s why I chose this as our meeting place.”

  She closed her eyes, singing a slow melody. It was the sweetest song Sophie had ever heard, and the forest shimmered in response. The crooked trees rustled as if they were joining in the chorus, and the wind whistled through their leaves.

  “It’s beautiful,” Biana whispered, waving her fingers in front of her face. “I think I finally see the glints of life you told me about, Calla.”

  “If that’s true, then you now know how I see you.” Calla smiled when Biana’s eyes lit up.

  Calla repeated the song again, and the sparkles intensified, until the whole forest looked painted with glitter. It faded when she kneeled at the foot of the tree. Her song turned softer, and the roots twisted and twirled until they’d swept aside the soil and formed a tunnel.

  Calla motioned for everyone to follow her underground, and as Sophie stepped into the earth she swore she heard a new song take over—a hushed whisper circling around her, prickling her consciousness.

  Her eyes found Calla’s in the dim light, wondering if Calla could hear it too.

  “I don’t know where it’s coming from,” Calla said. “It’s as if the earth itself has joined the call, trying to tell us what it needs.”

  Goose bumps peppered Sophie’s skin as her mind translated the lyric. A single word, sung over and over and over.

  Panakes.

  “What if we’re focusing on the wrong thing?” Sophie asked when they’d regrouped in the girls’ common room, after they’d eaten and changed out of their uniforms. “Maybe we should be searching for the Panakes instead of the drakostomes.”

  “If you’re saying we should sneak into ogreville instead of sitting here watching Dex poke a gadget with sticks, I’m in,” Keefe said.

  “Easy there,” Sophie told him as Keefe tried to drag her toward the door. “That’s not what I’m saying—not yet at least. I meant we should be searching for information about the Panakes.”

  Keefe flopped back into his chair with a sigh so dramatic it had to have hurt his throat.

  “And excuse me,” Dex said, “this happens to be an incredibly technical process.” He held up the Twiggler, which now looked like some sort of twig-and-wire spider. “You try merging six different technologies into one gadget.”

  “I’m not saying it’s not important,” Keefe said. “But the rest of us are just sitting here wasting time.”

  “Speak for yourself,” Biana said, appearing by the waterfall. “I think I figured out how to hide from Calla. I just need to make sure I can hold it.”

  “Yeah, and Sophie and I are about to do some Cognate training,” Fitz added.

  “But what do you mean by focusing on the Panakes?” Dex asked Sophie.

  “I meant we should be trying to find information about the cure, not the cause of the plague. Calla said nature tells us what it needs, and nature was singing about the Panakes. We need to figure out what they are and how to find them.”

  “Assuming they’re real,” Fitz reminded her.

  “If the earth is singing about them, wouldn’t they have to be?” Sophie asked. “And if there’s any record of them, I’m betting it’s in there.” She pointed to the Twiggler, wishing it didn’t look so ready to fall apart. “Are you getting any closer to making it search by keyword?”

  “I’m trying,” Dex said. “But the different technologies are super specific. They’ll each only serve a single function. The elvin tech provides all the power I need, and the dwarven stuff works like a backup. The goblin tech is my security, the trollish tech is what breaks through the barriers and whatnot, the ogre tech is the really sneaky stuff that gets me past the subtle defenses. And the gnomish tech seems to smooth out all the connections between everything. That’s why I keep adding more sticks, hoping it’ll make the parts cooperate better. But none of that helps with searching. It almost feels like that comes from a totally different technology. But I already have all the intelligent species represented, so I don’t know what that means.”

  “What about humans?” Sophie asked. “I know they’re not part of the treaties anymore—but they were.”

  “The archive is super old, right?” Fitz added. “So it could’ve been built before the humans betrayed everyone, and that would mean it includes their technology.”

  Dex scratched the top of his head. “I guess. But I have no idea what I’m supposed to use for human technology.”

  “There’s my iPod,” Sophie offered, even though she really didn’t want it destroyed. The small human gadget had been her constant companion growing up, her only way to drown out the bombarding human thoughts before she knew how to shield. Plus, it was one of the few human things she had left from her old life—and Dex had made all kinds of cool tweaks.

  “Nah,” Dex said. “Anything modern would be too advanced. I don’t even know if humans knew electricity existed back when this archive was made.”

  They didn’t, Sophie realized. “Okay . . . so we have to figure out what they did have.”

  Chariots? Plows? Bows and arrows? Were any of those thousands of years old?

  “I remember learning in school about an Iron Age, a Bronze Age, and a Stone Age,” she told them. “Where humans made tools from those different materials.”

  “Hmm. I’m already using bronze and iron for some of the other creatures,” Dex said. “But I guess I could try stone—though I have no idea ho
w stone counts as ‘technology.’ ”

  “It makes a pretty decent weapon,” Keefe mumbled. “Just ask my mom.”

  He rubbed his head where she’d given him a gash during her attempt to steal Silveny.

  No one seemed to know what to say to that.

  “I think that’s my cue,” Keefe said, heading for the door. “Call me if you decide on an ogre invasion.”

  Dex stood too, stuffing the Twiggler into his satchel. “Guess I need to go rock hunting. Wanna come with me?” he asked Sophie.

  “We really need to work through some Cognate exercises,” Fitz reminded her. “We lost a whole week when I was sick.”

  The old Dex would’ve glowered and muttered something about Telepaths. But the new Dex just nodded and said, “Yeah, that makes sense.”

  “Can I go with you?” Biana asked him. “If I don’t let Iggy get some exercise, he’s going to shred another one of my favorite shoes.”

  Biana must really love the little imp if she was willing to forgive footwear destruction.

  “At least he’s doing well on his diet,” she told Sophie. “I think he’s finally getting a taste for vegetables!”

  It turned out Iggy had most definitely not gotten a taste for vegetables, and Biana stomped back an hour later, muttering about “stubborn imps.” Sophie assumed it had something to do with the giant moth wing Iggy was crunching on.

  Della returned not long after, looking uncommonly frazzled. Her hair was tied back in a sloppy bun, and her gown was stained and wrinkled.

  “Everything okay?” Sophie asked.

  Della shook her head. “Physic had done some research on human comas, and she’d come up with a treatment plan for Prentice, with cold and hot compresses and balms and elixirs. We tried it today, but somewhere in the process he stopped breathing and everything unraveled. We got him breathing again—don’t worry. But . . .” Della stared at the ceiling. “I think we’re officially out of ideas. Nothing seems to matter.”

  If words could cast a shadow, they would’ve darkened the whole house.

  “I’m sorry,” Della said, heading toward her room. “I don’t mean to despair. I’m just tired of sitting at Prentice’s bedside telling happy stories and trying to pretend I’m not partially there for completely selfish reasons. I want him to get better, but . . .”

  Sophie knew what she meant.

  Della was still worried about how Prentice’s condition would affect Alden.

  “Anyway, good night.” Della kissed her son on the top of the head, then did the same to Sophie before she headed for her room. “Don’t stay up too late working. You’ll need plenty of rest before another day at Exillium.

  Sophie knew Della was right, and went to bed an hour early. She also ate a double portion of breakfast the next morning in case they were in for another round of appetite suppression. She was prepared for anything Exillium could throw at her—until they leaped to campus and arrived in the heart of a plague zone.

  FORTY-FIVE

  NOW SOPHIE KNEW what the ancient gnomish songs had meant by their warnings of a great Withering and an endless Fall.

  The Exillium tents had been set up along the edge of a sheer cliff, overlooking a blackened, shriveled woodland. The tree trunks were twisted and cracked, their branches sagging and drooping, and their speckled leaves blanketed the ground in heaps of mold green and sallow yellow.

  “Where are we?” Sophie whispered.

  “It doesn’t matter,” her purple Coach said behind her.

  The five friends turned to find all three Coaches looming over them. Waywards milled nearby, pretending they weren’t eavesdropping.

  “How can you say that?” Biana asked the Coaches. “Don’t you know what’s happening down there?”

  “We don’t,” the red Coach said, “and we aren’t supposed to.”

  “That’s not our world,” the blue Coach added. “It’s simply scenery.”

  “So you don’t care that—” Sophie started.

  “We don’t,” the blue Coach interrupted.

  “We can’t,” the purple Coach clarified. “We know our place, and the role we’re expected to play. The five of you need to learn yours.”

  “You’re no longer part of a community,” the red Coach added. “You’re fighting for survival and redemption.”

  “But how is it redeeming to only care about ourselves?” Sophie asked.

  The silence that followed felt like it was breathing down their necks, probably because the whole school was watching.

  The Coaches’ eventual reply was to order everyone to their Hemispheres.

  Sophie kept her head down as she ran to her purple Ambi tent and sat near one of the tent poles. A shadow passed over her, and she looked up to find the Shade and the Hydrokinetic standing beside her.

  The Shade’s whispery voice filled her head. “You’ll get in huge trouble if you keep talking to the Coaches like that.”

  Probably, Sophie transmitted. But someone needs to tell them they’re wrong.

  The way he tilted his head made her wonder if he was smiling. It was impossible to tell between the mask and the hood.

  “This place is called Bosk Gorge,” he whispered, “and it’s not the worst we’ve seen of the desolation.”

  Where was the worst?

  “Wildwood. There’s pretty much nothing left.”

  Before Sophie could reply, the purple Coach stormed into the tent and clapped her hands.

  “Everyone rise!” she ordered.

  Sophie moved to stand, then realized the Coach meant a different kind of “rise.”

  The rest of the Waywards floated off the ground as the Coach announced they’d be practicing levitation-in-motion.

  “Choose any movement you’d like,” the Coach said. “But you must keep moving. Every time you fall, you prove yourself Unworthy.”

  Sophie could’ve sworn the Coach looked at her as she said the last part, and it made her determined to stay airborne. She closed her eyes, pushed against gravity, and floated her body off the ground. But she couldn’t figure out how to move like the other Waywards. Motion required resistance—something to bounce off and create thrust. So when she tried to “walk,” her legs only flailed, and the longer she hovered there, the heavier her body felt.

  How you holding up? Fitz transmitted as she collapsed for a break.

  I don’t understand how they’re all doing this, she grumbled.

  Neither do I. I’ve dropped twice already, and Biana’s hit the ground three times. My Coach says we’re not motivated enough.

  You’re lucky you guys are together. I’m the only one struggling in my group.

  She forced herself to levitate again, and tried flapping her arms, which mostly made her look like a giant chicken. She felt even more ridiculous when she stole another look at the plague-infested forest.

  I can’t believe we’re wasting time on this when we could be down there investigating.

  Maybe it’s better, Fitz said. We wouldn’t want to accidently infect Calla.

  Sophie definitely didn’t want that—but it still felt like they were missing an opportunity. They could be learning things that might help the gnomes, and instead she was trying to air-swim.

  “You’re focusing your efforts too narrowly,” her Coach said as Sophie dropped on her belly so hard it knocked the wind out of her. “Gravity isn’t the only force you have to work with.”

  A gong announced their break before Sophie figured out what that meant.

  She stumbled to the eating area, where all the Waywards were lining up for lunch. The food itself was simple—baskets of whole fruit for them to choose from—and Sophie noticed everyone only took one piece. They also sat separately, on threadbare blankets the same color as their Hemisphere. The only sounds were the wind and the awkward crunch of chewing.

  She’d chosen a pear-shaped fruit with a smooth teal skin. It looked too pretty to eat, and Sophie wished she’d gone with that instinct. It tasted like juicy cheese, and ea
ch bite felt greasier than the last. The Shade and the Hydrokinetic sat across from her, sharing a purple spiky fruit between them. Sophie wondered if that meant they were boyfriend and girlfriend.

  “You should be more careful about your telepathic conversations,” the Shade’s voice whispered inside her head.

  One of these times you’re going to give me a heart attack, Sophie transmitted. How do you talk like that?

  His shadow stretched farther over hers. “It’s called shadow-whispering. My shadow is carrying my consciousness, so no one can hear me except you—but I still only do it when no one’s looking. You need to take the same precaution. If the Coach catches you, they’ll punish everyone. They want us to hate each other. It’s how they keep control. They know there are only three of them and hundreds of us. If we unite, we could take them out easily.”

  Or they could try getting us to like them, Sophie suggested. Fear isn’t the only way to control people.

  “No, but it’s the quickest. I would know.”

  The darkness in his tone was almost as unsettling as watching his shadow crawl back to its proper angle. Sophie could definitely see why Fitz would find Shades creepy. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that this one was worth knowing.

  The gong rang again, ordering them back to their tents, and the stronger afternoon gales made the exercise even more challenging. Waywards were tossed around the tents, crashing into the poles and each other. Sophie tried to use the wind’s momentum to finally get herself moving, but the wind seemed to be a force she couldn’t manipulate.

  She stretched out her mind, feeling for other forces to play with, and instead picked up a feint sound. It came from the withered woods, and after a minute of concentrating she realized it was a voice.

  A word.

  The same word over and over, growing more chilling every time.

  Help.

  FORTY-SIX

  SOPHIE RACED TOWARD the cliff and jumped, planning to teleport into the woods to find whoever needed help.

  But as the forces whipped around her, she realized that levitating would be easier. She could feel a strange rush of resistance in the air now that she felt the thrill of falling. And when she focused on that energy, she finally had the thrust she needed to propel herself forward. A little additional concentration and she was sprinting so fast it made her eyes water.