Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(144)

“It is,” Biana agreed.

Sophie couldn’t tell if the strain in Biana’s voice was exhaustion or something else. She decided to change the subject. “Where are we?”

“Near Wildwood,” Alvar said. “Which is good. I was hoping that’s where we’d end up.”

“Really?” Sophie asked. “Why?”

Alvar lifted the silver chest, which he’d managed to carry through all that chaos. “Seemed like a good place to bring this!”

His smile was so bright, Sophie couldn’t look at him as she told him the truth. “That’s not the cure. That’s how the ogres were planning to get the plague into the Lost Cities. They wanted us to steal it and bring it there. Then when we opened it—poof! The plague would be our fault.”

Alvar tested the lock on the chest. “Are you sure?”

“I saw the whole plan in King Dimitar’s mind. He’s also plotting to get rid of the Neverseen once he’s done using them.”

“He thinks he’s using them?” Alvar asked.

“He’s using everyone,” Sophie said. “Letting us tear our world apart so he can crush the pieces to bits.” Sophie shook her head. “We’ll have to destroy that chest. And I don’t know how I’m supposed to tell Calla there’s no cure.”

“I already know,” Calla said behind them. Sophie scrambled to her feet to find Calla, Tam, Linh, Dex, and Fitz, shuffling closer. It should’ve been a moment of celebration—they’d invaded Ravagog and lived to fight another day! But the devastating realities cast a shadow far gloomier than any Tam could create.

“You know the cure is fake?” Sophie whispered.

Calla nodded, her eyes focused on what remained of the Wildwood Colony in the distance. “The Panakes told me. I finally understand their song. The cure lies in their blossoms, not their bark. But hope is not lost. I’ll explain how later. Right now we should get somewhere safer. I’m sure the ogres will come after us.”

“Yeah,” Keefe said. “You guys realize we just destroyed Ravagog, right? What do you think that means? Like . . . did we just start a war?”

“We didn’t start anything,” Fitz said. “This whole thing was a trap the ogres set.”

“Somehow I don’t think King Dimitar is going to care about that,” Keefe mumbled. He glanced at Sophie. “And I’m guessing you didn’t learn anything about my mom?”

“I tried,” she whispered. “But his mind was too fixated on the drakostomes.”

“That has always been the ogres’ problem,” a frighteningly familiar voice said. “They always fail to see the bigger picture.”

Sophie and her friends scrambled together as they turned to find Brant and Fintan walking toward them, each holding spheres of Everblaze.





SEVENTY-TWO


I’M GUESSING THIS is the part where you demand to know how we found you,” Fintan said as Brant moved to block their path from behind. The Everblaze flamed brighter with their slightest movement, making it clear that pain would follow any attempt at escape.

“You keep forgetting that this was our plan from the beginning,” Fintan added. “Well—not the flood. You managed to surprise us with that one. And you stopped us from infecting Brackendale and Merrowmarsh. But the rest has gone like clockwork.”

Biana stepped in front of Calla, shielding her from the fire. “How could you do this to the gnomes? After everything they’ve done for the Lost Cities?”

“To expose the Council’s lies,” Brant said. “Now everyone knows how much they hide, and how little protection they truly give their people.”

“Which accomplishes what?” Sophie asked. “All you’ve done is make people afraid.”

“Indeed, Miss Foster,” Fintan agreed. “And fear is the world’s greatest motivator. Look at the power your group harnessed today as a result of your terror.” His eyes roved to Keefe as he added, “That was your mother’s mistake. She surrendered to her fear, and it cost her everything.”

“Including her life?” Sophie asked.

“Interesting that the question does not come from her son,” Fintan noted.

“That’s because I don’t care about her!” Keefe said.

Fintan smiled. “I suppose it wouldn’t matter, then, if I told you she’s currently locked in an ogre prison? And that your role in today’s invasion surely earned her a death sentence?”

“You’re lying,” Keefe said, his voice cracking.

“Not this time,” Brant told him. “We’re the ones who sealed her in her cell.”

“I suppose there’s a chance we could barter her freedom,” Fintan said. “But we’d need proper motivation.”

Brant said something else after that, but Sophie couldn’t listen. When he spoke, all she could see were his new scars. She’d thought his handsome features had been ruined before. Now they were gone.

One of his ears.

Parts of his lips and chin.

Most of his jet-black hair.

His face was more scar tissue than face. And that didn’t include the mottled, veiny stump at the end of his right wrist where his hand used to be.