Everblaze

by Shannon Messenger

  “Can I help?” Fitz asked as she rubbed her blurry eyes. “If you tell me how to find Elementine, I should be able to do the rest.”

  “It’s not really something I can tell. You have to know what to look for, otherwise you’ll never find it.”

  “Okay, then can you show me? Transmit your memories of everything you look at when you’re finding it—I’m sure I’ll be able to figure it out from there.”

  Sophie wasn’t convinced that would work, but her raging headache insisted she try it. She handed Fitz the stellarscope and they traded places—which felt way more awkward given their height difference.

  “I think you’re shorter than Biana,” Fitz teased as she stood on her tiptoes so she could see the sky over his shoulders.

  “She always wears heels.”

  “I guess that is sort of cheating,” Fitz agreed. “You ready?”

  “One second.”

  She opened her mind to his, then realized she’d forgotten to ask his permission beforehand.

  Fitz shrugged as she apologized, his shoulder blade nearly clipping her nose. I don’t mind having you know what I’m thinking, Sophie. I trust you.

  Her cheeks turned warm. I trust you, too.

  Then send me those images and let’s finish this.

  Right.

  She tried to transmit the memories, but sending images took more energy than she’d expected. And with her mind already so tired, she couldn’t seem to find enough force.

  But she could feel a hint of brain push energy tucked deep in the back of her mind, and when she mixed it with what was left of her concentration, she was finally able to shove the memories into Fitz’s head.

  “Wow, that was crazy. I think you sent me all of your memories of the stars.”

  “Did I?”

  She checked his thoughts and sure enough, his mind was struggling to process a never-ending stream of star maps.

  “Oh—sorry!”

  “Are you kidding? I’ll never have to study for the Universe again!”

  It did take a couple of minutes for him to find the information he needed—precious time they couldn’t spare. But once he found it, he bottled the quintessence on the first try.

  “I can see why you have a headache,” he told her as she changed out the bottle for him. “I feel like my brain started to stretch as I concentrated.”

  Still, he bottled the last four just as quickly, and a few minutes later they had all the quintessence wrapped in shredded cape and loaded carefully into the bag.

  “I’ll hail Alden,” Sophie said as Fitz pulled out the pathfinder and spun the crystal.

  Alden didn’t answer.

  She told herself he was just busy, and that everything was going to be okay.

  But when they finally leaped to the outskirts of Eternalia, they found the glittering city burning wildly with Everblaze.

  THIRTY-SEVEN

  SOPHIE AND FITZ SPRINTED TOWARD the city, weaving around rivers of melted-jewel lava. Dozens of buildings had already oozed away—with more catching fire every second—and Sophie sent a silent plea into the night, hoping no one was inside.

  “We have to find my dad!” Fitz yelled as Sophie stopped and pressed her hands to her head.

  “I know. I’m trying to track him.”

  Her mind could trace the sound of someone’s thoughts to their exact location. But she was having a hard time concentrating, between the heat and the crackling and the pound-pound-pounding of her heart. She wished she could take a deep breath to clear her throbbing head. But the smoke was too thick and bitter, so she closed her eyes and forced herself to tune out everything except the voice she needed to find.

  For several seconds she couldn’t hear anything. Then Tiergan’s panicked, overwhelmed thoughts filled her mind.

  “They’re by the river!” she shouted, cradling the bottles of quintessence as she took off downstream with Fitz right behind her.

  Everything burned—her chest, her legs, her eyes—but she pushed herself to move faster, wanting to cry with relief when she spotted what looked like a makeshift lab, complete with glowing beakers and test tubes and some sort of bubbling cauldron. Standing next to a white-robed figure was a blissfully familiar face.

  “Tiergan!” Sophie shouted, doubling her speed.

  He ran toward her once he spotted her, and even though she knew he wasn’t a hugger—and she was carrying a large bag of very explosive bottles—she threw her arms around him, clinging to him in the eerie, flickering light.

  “Where’s my father?” Fitz asked between wheezing breaths.

  “He’s safe. He went with Lady Galvin to collect the only other ingredient we need for the frissyn. She’s been giving us a long lecture on how we should’ve kept some in reserve after last time.”

  “She’s right,” Sophie said, surprised she actually agreed with her evil ex–alchemy instructor about anything.

  “I know.” Tiergan took the bag of quintessence from her and led them back toward the lab. “I’ll have Kesler start prepping this.”

  “Kesler’s here?” Sophie asked, wondering if that meant Dex was as well.

  “Every alchemist we could find is here. Plus a fleet of gnomes who volunteered to help us distribute the frissyn. The fire should be out quickly once we have what we need.”

  Sophie hoped he was right. And she felt better handing the quintessence over to Kesler and seeing him immediately add some to the cauldron. He also assured her that Dex was home safe.

  Still, it was agonizing to stand there, watching the beautiful jeweled city melt in the flames, while Kesler stirred beakers and measured liquids and they waited waited waited.

  Fitz had worn a groove into the ground from his pacing when Alden’s familiar voice called, “Thank goodness you’re both back!” and Sophie and Fitz ran to tackle him.

  “I was so worried about you,” Alden told them, hugging so tight Sophie couldn’t breathe—but maybe that was a good thing.

  “Ugh—why do you stink?” Fitz asked, leaning back as far as Alden would let him.

  “Sasquatch saliva was the last ingredient we needed.”

  “But we got it,” a sharp voice said behind him, making them realize Alden hadn’t returned alone.

  Lady Galvin—who looked less terrifying than usual with green sasquatch fur sticking out of her bun—held up a large flask filled with cloudy yellow liquid. Even though it had a cork, Sophie could smell the rancid stench radiating from it.

  “I’m assuming you collected the quintessence?” she asked Sophie, stalking over to Kesler and examining his cauldron. “It looks like you managed to do it without anything exploding, either. Well done. Now we can finally clean up this mess.”

  Everyone cheered when they finished brewing the first batch of frissyn—which turned out to be a shimmering silver powder. But Sophie didn’t feel like celebrating as she watched a group of gnomes set to work dusting the first line of flames. All she could see was the destruction all around her. And she knew none of it would’ve happened if she hadn’t healed Fintan.

  She closed her eyes and let the truth nestle deep into her brain.

  She needed to face it.

  Accept it.

  Own up to the reality.

  Partially for her own sanity—but mostly because there would surely be backlash when the news hit the public.

  “You two have had a very long night,” Alden said, joining Sophie and Fitz on the hill where they’d been watching. “I think it’s time we go home, don’t you?”

  “Do Grady and Edaline know about the Everblaze?” Sophie asked.

  “Not yet. I didn’t think it would be wise to involve them until the fires were contained. But now . . . there is much to explain.”

  Sophie met his eyes, realizing there was a deeper emotion hiding behind the stress and exhaustion and worry.

  Grief.

  “Everything’s okay, right?” she asked quietly. “Nobody was . . . ?”

  She couldn’t say it.

&n
bsp; Hated even having to think it.

  “We’ll talk in the morning,” Alden told her, offering her a hand.

  “No—you have to tell me what happened. I can’t . . .” A lump lodged in her throat, threatening to choke her. “If someone was hurt, I need to know.”

  Alden’s lips formed one word—but at the last second he changed it to, “I really think you should rest before we talk about this.”

  “Like I’ll be able to sleep now.”

  “She’s right, Dad,” Fitz agreed.

  Alden looked about a thousand years old as he sat down between them and buried his face in his hands. “I don’t know how to tell you this.”

  The words seemed to swallow the air around them.

  Alden had told Sophie she’d be facing a tribunal, and that she had to go to Exile, and that she had to leave her human family and have her whole life erased.

  What could be worse than that?

  And then she knew.

  “Someone’s dead,” she said quietly, as her mind ran through a list of names and faces.

  It was hard to remember who she’d seen safe and who she hadn’t—but as she played the night back she realized someone was missing.

  Fitz reached for her hand, squeezing so hard it probably would’ve hurt if Sophie hadn’t already turned numb.

  Still, she felt a million needles press into her heart when Alden swallowed back a sob and said, “Actually, it was two people. Both Fintan and Councillor Kenric never made it out of the tower.”

  THIRTY-EIGHT

  NO,” SOPHIE SAID, JERKING AWAY from Fitz. “Not Kenric.”

  There had to be a mistake.

  She raced down the hill, promising herself that she would find a smiling Kenric standing with the cluster of figures in the distance.

  Instead she found the rest of the Councillors gathered around a sobbing Oralie.

  “No!” Sophie shouted, spinning around to head to Oblivimyre.

  The ground felt slippery as she ran, but Sophie pushed forward, ordering her legs not to trip.

  Everything would be better once she got there. She’d find a secret compartment he’d hidden in, or a clue to where he’d leaped to, or . . .

  She screeched to a halt when she realized the slick ground was purple.

  A few feet away, a lone silver fencepost stuck out of the sea of melted jewel—all that remained of Oblivimyre.

  “No,” she cried again, dropping to her knees.

  “I’m sorry,” Alden said behind her, placing a gentle hand on her trembling shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

  She didn’t even know Kenric that well. But he’d always been kind—and was always the first to take her side. She couldn’t imagine the Council without him.

  “He can’t really be gone,” she whispered, feeling hot tears streak down her face.

  Alden pulled her close, his body shaking harder than hers as he told her, “I’m afraid he is. Kenric charged Fintan when the room started raining Everblaze. He managed to shove you, Fitz, and Oralie away, but then Fintan’s body exploded with flames. There was nothing we could do. I—”

  His voice broke, and he needed several deep breaths before he could speak again.

  “We’re going to have to be brave, Sophie. I’m sorry to ask that of you, but Kenric’s loss is going to be deeply, deeply felt by our citizens. People are going to need to see that everything is going to be okay.”

  “But it’s not!” she yelled, backing away from him.

  The loss was too huge this time.

  They’d lost a Councillor.

  A hole opened inside of her as she thought of how many people had told her not to do the healing.

  “I should’ve listened,” she whispered, barely able to breathe. “It’s my fault.”

  “If it’s anyone’s fault, it’s mine,” Fitz said as he stepped out of the darkness. “If I’d noticed the flames earlier, or been a better guide—”

  “This was not your fault, Fitz,” Sophie promised.

  “Nor was it yours,” Alden said firmly. “No matter what you think. No matter what happens in the coming days. I want you both to know this, and hold to it, and believe it. This. Wasn’t. Your. Fault. Remember that. And remember what happened to me when I tried to hold on to guilt and blame.”

  The reminder felt like a bucket of ice water, splashing them both awake.

  But Sophie couldn’t make herself believe him.

  Like it or not, she had played a role in Kenric’s death—and she would have to square with that someday.

  But if she let the guilt break her, his sacrifice would be a waste, and she refused to let that happen either.

  She’d hold herself together the same way Grady had when he lost Jolie.

  She would focus on rage.

  Her anger boiled inside her and she drank it in, letting it settle into her heart and burn the fear and sadness away.

  She wouldn’t rest until she found the Pyrokinetic Fintan was protecting. And once she did, she would make him pay.

  THIRTY-NINE

  TIERGAN BROUGHT SOPHIE HOME, AND she took him up on his offer to break the news to Grady and Edaline without her.

  When Alden’s mind had broken, she’d insisted on being there, wanting to be brave and strong and support her family. But she couldn’t handle another teary, heartbreaking scene.

  She needed to hold on to her rage.

  She left everyone downstairs—avoiding their worried glances—as she dropped her singed cape in a heap on the floor and followed Sandor up to her room. He said nothing as she closed him outside, probably too busy eavesdropping on what Tiergan was saying. But Sophie didn’t want to hear. She locked herself in her bathroom and turned on the shower, letting the sound of falling water drown out the world.

  Flakes of ash sprinkled the floor as she kicked her clothes to the corner, wishing she could tear them to tiny threads. She grabbed every bottle of shampoo she could find and stepped under the colored streams of cold water, glad to feel her body shiver.

  She’d had enough heat to last a lifetime.

  She washed her hair so many times she lost count, though when she finally turned off the water, she could still smell the smoke. She tied the dripping, soggy strands away from her face, threw on her pajamas, and stumbled to bed. But she could see the Everblaze behind her eyes.

  The bright, neon yellow flashes were seared to her eyelids, and no matter how hard she blinked, they wouldn’t fade away.

  “How can I help?” Sandor asked, hovering in the doorway, silhouetted by a sliver of light.

  Sophie rolled to her side, not wanting to look at him as she whispered, “I think I’d like to try slumberberry tea.”

  She’d expected some sort of triumphant “It’s about time!” But all she heard were the heavy thuds of Sandor’s feet as he rushed to grant her request.

  She lay still, trying not to think about what she was doing, until the footsteps returned, bringing with them the scent of something sweet. But when she turned to grab the tea, the person offering it to her was Edaline.

  “Sandor said you requested this,” she said, holding out the fragile pink teacup.

  Sophie took it slowly, trying not to let her shaky hands spill the steaming liquid. But she froze with the cup halfway to her lips.

  The tea was purple, with a slight shimmer—like the bubbling flows of amethyst lava coating the ground outside Oblivimyre.

  Edaline grabbed the cup as it started to slip from Sophie’s hands, and she set it down on Sophie’s nightstand.

  “Slumberberry tea can be a wonderful thing,” Edaline said, sounding surprisingly calm as she sat next to Sophie on the edge of the bed. “But I know how you feel about sedatives. That’s why I also brought you these.”

  She pulled a black vial from her pocket and placed it in Sophie’s lap. The bottle was small and narrow—no wider than Sophie’s finger—and covered in tiny silver dots, with a strange silver lid that felt squishy when Sophie touched it.

  “It’s ca
lled somnalene,” Edaline explained. “It’s the nectar of the starglass flower, and it’s not a drug. All you need is one drop in each eye to help you sleep. It used to work for me.”

  “How?” Sophie asked, unscrewing the bottle and filling the eyedropper with the shimmering silver liquid.

  “It’s hard to explain until you see.”

  Sophie scooted down, tipping her head back so Edaline could hold her eyelids open and squeeze one drop into each of her eyes. The cool silver liquid felt blindingly bright as it spread across her corneas. But as the tears settled, she sucked in a breath.

  “It’s beautiful, isn’t it?” Edaline asked.

  Beautiful wasn’t a strong enough word.

  A million flecks of light shimmered and flashed behind her eyes, like she had a tiny universe tucked inside her mind.

  “They call the effect ‘midnighting,’” Edaline explained. “It’ll last about eight hours before it fades.”

  “It’s amazing,” Sophie breathed.

  The lingering yellow glow of the Everblaze faded in the twinkling lights, and Sophie breathed a sigh of relief—even as her insides squirmed like snakes.

  She didn’t deserve to have her guilt fade—not until she made the rebels pay.

  “Hey,” Edaline said, wiping a tear off Sophie’s cheek. “If you cry it all out, it can’t help you sleep.”

  “Good,” Sophie mumbled, rolling away.

  Edaline placed a gentle hand on Sophie’s shoulder. “You’re missing the point of the somnalene. It reminds us just how small we really are, and how big the rest of the world is by comparison. One person is not the source of anything—it’s millions of pieces all working together. And it shows us that there’s always hope—always light. No matter how much darkness we might be facing.”

  Her hand had started to trace slow, careful circles down Sophie’s spine, just like Sophie’s human mother used to do when she was a little kid.

  “I never should have come here,” Sophie whispered. “If I’d just stayed with the humans, none of this would have happened.”