Neverseen

by Shannon Messenger

The file didn’t say what Ruy had done, just the “proven unstable and unfit for society,” they’d seen before. But at the very end of the record Sophie noticed two words she hadn’t seen before:

  Actions irredeemable.

  “What do you think that means?” Dex asked.

  “It is not a phrase the Council marks someone with lightly,” Mr. Forkle said from the doorway. “Whom are we discussing?”

  Sophie explained what she’d learned from her Coach, and Mr. Forkle stroked his chin. “I’ll have to pool my resources to uncover the specifics of Mr. Ignis’s crime. But his past is unlikely to lead to his present location.”

  “It’s still important to know as much about our enemies as possible, right?” Sophie asked.

  “Indeed,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “But for the moment, I need you to focus on your Cognate training. As this situation continues to unravel, it’s more important than ever that the two of you reach your greatest potential. And currently, you’re progressing slower than we’d hoped.”

  “Hey, I was almost dead for a week!” Fitz argued. “And we’ve worked through a ton of trust exercises.”

  “You have,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “But therein lies the problem. Few people think of trust as an emotion. They prefer to view it as a force they control. But in its basest form, trust is as involuntary as sadness or anger or fear. A newborn child instinctively trusts its parents. Sophie’s mind instinctively trusts mine—and now yours as well, Mr. Vacker. So what does that tell us?”

  “That Foster has questionable taste in Telepaths?” Keefe guessed.

  “No, Mr. Sencen. It’s that emotions affect our telepathy in powerful ways. Joy gives us strength and confidence. Love pushes us to try harder and never give up. Fear clouds our judgment or holds us back. Sorrow strips us of our energy and hope. Anger makes us reckless, or too aggressive. And we cannot fully control these forces on our own—but Cognates can, if they learn to recognize each other’s emotions.”

  Keefe snorted. “Definitely not Sophitz’s strong suit.”

  “I agree,” Mr. Forkle said. “Which is why I created a new exercise. I should’ve been diversifying your lessons earlier, to include a range of emotions beyond trust. We must make up for lost time today.”

  “What about the rest of us?” Biana asked as he led Sophie and Fitz toward the stairs.

  “Wraith should be here to train with you within the hour,” Mr. Forkle told her. “And Blur is coming to take a look at that database contraption of yours, Mr. Dizznee, to see if he can find a way to integrate those stones internally. And Mr. Sencen—”

  “Oh, let me guess,” Keefe interrupted. “Another exciting day of reading?”

  “Actually, I’d like you to assist with Miss Foster’s and Mr. Vacker’s training. Your skills as an Empath will be invaluable.”

  Biana giggled.

  “What?” Fitz asked.

  “Oh, nothing,” she said. “The three of you training together and working with emotions? I don’t see how anything could go wrong there.”

  Mr. Forkle brought them to a cave filled with enormous glowing blue mushrooms and walls covered in twinkling glints of purple. Sophie felt like Alice in Wonderland as she sat on a toadstool as big as a table.

  “What is this place?” she asked.

  “Gora and Yuri’s fungus garden. That musty scent you’re smelling comes from the mold on the walls. Breathing it in can make emotions feel more potent.”

  “Fun as it sounds to have a fungus rush,” Keefe said, bouncing on his toadstool, “why do I have to be here for this?”

  “To ensure their interpretations of their emotions are accurate. And the mold’s effect is incredibly subtle. All it does is clear the mind of other distractions.” Mr. Forkle turned to Fitz. “Do you remember how to find Miss Foster’s emotional center?”

  “I think so.”

  Keefe laughed. “Annnnnnnnd, the Foster panicking begins.”

  “I’m not panicking,” Sophie told him, with a very unconvincing squeak.

  She ignored Keefe’s laugher as she gave Fitz permission to enter her mind.

  Several uncomfortable seconds passed before Fitz said, “Okay, I think I’m there—and whoa, it’s even more overwhelming than last time.”

  “Sorry,” Sophie mumbled, wanting to hide under her giant mushroom.

  “Powerful emotions are an asset,” Mr. Forkle told her. “Especially for this. And now I must lead you to the same point in Mr. Vacker’s consciousness. Try to follow my lead and memorize the trail.”

  The “trail” was a thread of warmth winding deep into Fitz’s mind. It ended in a patch of darkness that hummed with energy.

  Push through, Mr. Forkle transmitted, and Sophie gasped as she obeyed. She’d studied fractals in her human math classes, but she’d never been surrounded by a 3-D version. Every color. Every pattern. Every style and shape were woven together into something both breathtaking and completely overwhelming.

  “It takes some getting used to,” Mr. Forkle said. “But what you’re seeing is a visual representation of each other’s moods.”

  “So, does that mean if I do this . . .” Keefe tickled Sophie’s neck.

  “GAH—everything just went supersonic!” Fitz said.

  Sophie snatched Keefe’s wrist as he reached to tickle her again. “Don’t. You. Dare.”

  “Whoa, now everything’s red and ripply,” Fitz said. “Is that because she’s angry?”

  “Precisely, Mr. Vacker. Every time her emotions shift, the patterns and colors will change. And with practice, you’ll learn to interpret what you see.”

  “Okay, but . . . can’t they just say, ‘Hey—I’m feeling this’?” Keefe asked.

  “People aren’t always honest about their feelings—even with themselves,” Mr. Forkle told him. “Plus, many telepathic assignments involve stealth and secrecy. So for this exercise I’m going to need you both to forget everything around you. Let the world drop away, leaving only you two.”

  Keefe sighed. “Just tell them to stare into each other’s eyes and they’ll be good.”

  “None of that, Mr. Sencen. From this moment on, you have one job and one job only: to judge their translations of the various emotions I’ll be triggering.”

  “Triggering how?” Sophie asked.

  “You’ll see soon enough. And you’ll guess first, Miss Foster. For this to work, Mr. Vacker, it’s crucial that you not react externally. No yelling or thrashing or screaming or—”

  “Uhhh, what are you going to do to me?” Fitz asked.

  “Nothing you won’t survive. Consider it an exercise in self-control. And try not to listen to his thoughts, Miss Foster. Study only the changes in his emotional center and make your deduction. We begin now.”

  Sophie closed her eyes and focused on the colors weaving around Fitz’s mind. She was about to ask if she was missing something when the pattern exploded into a swirl of pale blue tendrils. The color felt too bright to be sad, but also too wild to be peaceful.

  “Tension?” she guessed.

  “Kinda close,” Keefe told her.

  The laughter in his voice made her wonder what had happened to poor Fitz.

  She tried to think of other emotions as his mind turned electric blue.

  “Shock?” she guessed.

  “That counts,” Keefe said. “Though the best answer would’ve been ‘surprise.’ ”

  “Is that an emotion?” she asked.

  “Indeed it is,” Mr. Forkle said. “One of the most common emotions you’ll experience as you navigate someone’s mind—hence why I chose it as our starting point.”

  “Can I talk now?” Fitz asked. “Because that was seriously disgusting!”

  Sophie opened her eyes and tried not to laugh when she saw red fruit smashed all over Fitz’s face. He wiped his cheeks on his sleeves, but that only smeared the pulp.

  “I think I’m going to like this assignment,” Keefe said. “What else can we fling at Fitz?”

  “Nothing for the mom
ent,” Mr. Forkle told him. “It’s his turn to interpret. Everyone close your eyes. And remember, no cues of any kind, Miss Foster.”

  Sophie counted the seconds, bracing for the worst—and when nothing changed, she opened her eyes and found Mr. Forkle with his finger over his lips in a “shhh” sign.

  “Um . . . confusion,” Fitz guessed.

  “That works,” Keefe said. “It started as anticipation, but then it shifted.”

  “Very good,” Mr. Forkle said. “And well done, Mr. Sencen. I wasn’t sure you’d recognize confusion. It’s one of the more challenging emotions for Empaths.”

  “Maybe on other people,” Keefe said. “But on Foster it’s easy. Why are her emotions so much stronger?”

  “Honestly, I’m not sure,” Mr. Forkle admitted. “I suspect it stems from the combination of her inflicting ability and her human upbringing. But it was one of the surprises of her development. Much like her teleporting. Okay, Miss Foster, it’s your turn to guess again.”

  She closed her eyes and watched as the lines of color in Fitz’s mind blossomed to a snowflake of purple.

  “Pride?” she guessed.

  Keefe laughed. “Wow, add more fail points to Sophitz.”

  “Quiet,” Mr. Forkle told him.

  The brightness in Fitz’s mind dimmed, and the pattern seemed to melt into a swamp of murky gray green.

  “Disappointment?” she tried.

  “Now it is,” Keefe said. “Before it was jealousy.”

  “Jealousy over what?” Sophie asked.

  “Is it my turn to guess?” Fitz said, changing the subject.

  Fitz guessed Sophie’s next emotion: embarrassment from Mr. Forkle giving her a big hug. And Sophie guessed right when Fitz panicked after Mr. Forkle placed an especially hairy spider on his knee. They nailed the next few as well: stress, joy, and bravery. And the more they practiced, the more Sophie could sense their minds syncing. Eventually she could actually feel the emotion as Fitz experienced it, not just see the change in color and pattern.

  “Remarkable, isn’t it?” Mr. Forkle asked.

  “Kind of,” Fitz said. “It’s cool to feel what she’s feeling. But I still don’t see how this helps with telepathy.”

  “Then stand up,” Mr. Forkle ordered. “Both of you. And put your hands on my temples. Don’t think. Just feel your way through my blocking—if you can.”

  They stretched out their minds, and Fitz’s consciousness seemed to merge with Sophie’s as they moved almost like a dance, sweeping around barriers and sidestepping defenses. When Sophie’s excitement bubbled up, Fitz’s steadiness slowed her down, saving her from pushing into a trap. And when Fitz grew too impatient, Sophie was there to calm his mind before he rushed the wrong direction. They ducked and dipped and scuttled, until they reached a swarm of cold currents dragging them up while Sophie’s brain told her to keep fighting down.

  Fitz struggled with her, and they’d almost fought their way through when she remembered what Mr. Forkle had told her about her abilities being deceived when she’d tried to read his mind before.

  Maybe Fitz’s confidence made her more daring—or maybe she was crazy—but she told Fitz to let the cold currents drag them up and away, against their instincts.

  When they did, they crashed through a prickly barrier and . . .

  . . . Mr. Forkle’s thoughts filled their minds.

  “WE DID IT!” Fitz shouted as Mr. Forkle scrambled to shut them out.

  Sophie didn’t feel like celebrating.

  A second later, Fitz’s smile collapsed as his brain processed what they’d both seen.

  Sophie tried to warn him not to say anything—but he was already wheeling on Mr. Forkle to ask, “Why have you been meeting with Lord Cassius?”

  FIFTY-SEVEN

  YOU’VE BEEN TALKING to my dad?” Keefe shouted, his voice slicing around the cave.

  Mr. Forkle mumbled something about not planning the exercise carefully enough, before he told Keefe, “Your father reached out to us after he found those maps in your mother’s possessions—”

  “Wait—those were hers?” Keefe’s eyes narrowed at Sophie. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

  “I agreed to the meeting,” Mr. Forkle jumped in, “assuming he’d either found something else, or wanted an update on you.”

  “Yeah, I’m sure he’s been real worried about me,” Keefe muttered.

  “Actually he has,” Mr. Forkle promised. “And he was incredibly relieved to know you’re safe.”

  Keefe shook his head and turned back to Sophie. “I can’t believe you knew about this.”

  “Only some of it,” she promised. “I didn’t know they’d met up in person.”

  “I didn’t tell you that part,” Mr. Forkle agreed. “I knew how you would feel about it.”

  “Why?” Keefe asked. “What did he want?”

  Sophie could tell bad news was coming. She could feel it in the pit of her stomach, a sour bubbling and churning.

  Still, she never would’ve guessed Mr. Forkle would say, “He asked to join the Black Swan.”

  “WHAT?” the three of them asked.

  “Please tell me you laughed hysterically and kicked him out the door,” Keefe begged.

  “I told him we had many concerns about his trustworthiness.”

  That wasn’t the same as a no—and Keefe definitely caught it.

  “You’re not actually considering letting my dad join, right?” he asked. “Because you realize that would be the dumbest decision in the history of dumb decisions.”

  “I know your father is a difficult person, Mr. Sencen. And I do not agree with his parenting methods. But there are ways he could be useful—”

  “Unbelievable!” Keefe shouted. “Please tell me this isn’t happening.”

  “Nothing has happened yet. We are far from deciding. But . . . it’s not outside the realm of possibility.”

  Keefe laughed—a dark, angry sound. “You know what is outside the realm of possibility? Me staying here if you let him in.”

  “He wouldn’t live here. He would maintain his identity in the Lost Cities.”

  “I DON’T CARE!”

  “Keefe,” Sophie tried.

  He jerked away as she reached for his hand. “Uh-uh. You promised you weren’t going to hide anything from me.”

  “I’m really sorry.” She glanced at Mr. Forkle, knowing she was about to make everything so much worse. But if she didn’t tell Keefe now, she’d never be able to tell him. “I was afraid if I told you, I’d have to show you your mom’s note. They found it when they found the maps, along with a kit to make leaping crystals like the ones we use at Exillium. Mr. Forkle gave it to me and I was saving it until we knew more about what happened to her.”

  “That wasn’t our deal,” he snapped.

  “I know. But I was worried about you. We’ve all been dealing with so much.”

  “So lying to me is better?” He rubbed his head so hard it looked painful. “Seriously, what is happening?”

  “Perhaps we should leave this cave,” Mr. Forkle suggested. “Away from the affect of the mold.”

  “I’M NOT MAD BECAUSE OF THE FUNGUS—I’M MAD BECAUSE YOU’VE BEEN LYING TO ME.”

  All Sophie could do was stare at her feet.

  “Why didn’t you tell me about this?” Fitz whispered to her.

  “Dude, you don’t get to ask that,” Keefe told him.

  “If you want to read the note we can go right now,” Sophie told Keefe. “I have it hidden in my room.”

  Keefe shook his head. “Just tell me what it says.”

  “It says, ‘Dear Keefe, I’m doing this for you. Love, Mom,’ ” Mr. Forkle told him when Sophie hesitated.

  Keefe mouthed the words to himself, over and over and over. Finally he asked, “Doing what for me?”

  “She didn’t say.” Sophie tried for his hand again and he jumped off his toadstool and backed away. “No—you lied to me.”

  “I know,” Sophie whispered. “I�
��m sorry.”

  “That’s not good enough!”

  “Come on, it’s not her you’re mad it,” Fitz said. “I know—I’ve been there.”

  “Have you? Because I seem to remember you having a bummer few weeks and then everything went back to perfect Vacker-land. So where’s my perfect fix? Why does it just keep spiraling and spiraling and spiraling?”

  “How can we help?” Sophie asked as he covered his face with his hands.

  “Right now? You can leave me alone.” He turned and stalked away.

  The glowing mushrooms turned to a blur in Sophie’s eyes.

  Her tears felt cold.

  Everything felt cold.

  “Come on,” Fitz said, draping his arm around Sophie’s shoulders. That was when she realized she was shaking.

  He’d only led her a few steps before Sophie stopped and turned back to Mr. Forkle.

  “If you let Lord Cassius join the Black Swan, I’m out.”

  “Me too,” Fitz said.

  “It’s not about who we want to work with,” Mr. Forkle told them. “It’s about putting aside differences for the greater good.”

  “I don’t care!”

  “I understand your anger, Miss Foster. I feel the same way every time I see Ms. Vacker sitting at Prentice’s bedside. But I still let her sit there.”

  “My mom had nothing to do with what happened to him.”

  “I know that in my head, but not my heart. Emotion isn’t logical. All I can control is how I act. Remember the oath you each swore when you joined us? You swore to do everything in your power to help your world. That includes relying on those we do not like, if they can help with something we need.”

  Sophie gave Fitz the note from Keefe’s mom. He promised to slip it under Keefe’s door if he didn’t answer. Sleep felt impossible, so Sophie checked on Silveny, watching the alicorn’s memories of when Silveny told Greyfell he was going to be a daddy.

  The joy that sparked in Greyfell’s eyes was one of the purest, most beautiful things Sophie had ever seen. It made her wonder what Lord Cassius had looked like when he discovered Lady Gisela was pregnant with Keefe.

  Could a tiny bit of that spark have been there?

  She hoped so.

  She tossed and turned for another hour, then wandered to her window. She knew Keefe didn’t want to talk to her, but when she saw his lights on she couldn’t walk away.