Neverseen (Keeper of the Lost Cities, #4)(85)

“Will we really be wearing masks?” Biana asked.

“You will.” Granite opened the chests, which Sophie noticed had been painted with a black X across the top and the letter E embossed where the lines intersected. “Your uniforms are the same for boys and girls, and they are designed to hide your identities.”

He handed them each a thick stack of gray and black clothes, along with a pair of heavy black boots, and a silver-studded black half mask.

“I’ll try it on,” Biana said, heading toward her bedroom.

She clomped back a few minutes later in the steel-toed boots, which laced up over the fitted black pants. The long-sleeved shirt was also black, and worn tucked under a gray vest with silver buckles and chains across the front. The back half of the vest draped low and flared like a trench coat. Sewn under the collar of the vest was a hood with a deep cowl that cast Biana’s face in deep shadow. Paired with the mask, it was impossible to tell what Biana looked like, and the full effect was incredibly intimidating.

“I never thought I’d say this,” Sophie mumbled, “but I miss the dorky Foxfire capes.”

“I dunno,” Fitz said. “I think it’s kinda cool.”

“See, and I’m not on board with the hood,” Keefe said. “It totally kills the Hair.”

“The mask smells funny,” Biana added. “And this heavy fabric is making me sweaty.”

“Is the campus somewhere cold?” Dex asked.

“It changes every day, as part of their security,” Mr. Forkle said. “But it’s always in the Neutral Territories. You’ll find the campus tomorrow at dawn using these.” He reached into one of the trunks and pulled out a small black pouch, which contained five long black cords strung with a single bead.

The bead was blue and dotted with a flake of crystal no bigger than a speck of glitter.

“The crystal only works for a single leap,” Granite explained. “After that, you’ll have until sunset to prove that you deserve another bead to return the next day.”

“What happens if we don’t get one?” Dex asked.

“Do not find out,” Mr. Forkle warned. “I have no doubt that all of you are capable of handling their curriculum. Exillium focuses on skills, not abilities. Tasks like night vision, slowing your breath, regulating body temperature, suppressing hunger, levitating, blinking in and out of perception, telekinesis, on and on. It will be exhausting, and physically demanding, but could prove useful in the future. We know you’ll also be trying to gather information—and we’ll be grateful for anything you learn. But do not do so at the expense of your safety.”

Keefe fiddled with his necklace, coiling the cord so tightly around his finger it turned his fingertip red.

“You okay?” Sophie asked him.

He shrugged. “You know what gets me? My dad always said I’d end up in Exillium.”

“Well, if it makes you feel any better, Biana and I will be the first Vackers ever sent there,” Fitz said. “Pretty sure that means we’re officially the disgrace of our family.”

“No, you’re not,” Della said, appearing in the doorway. Her eyes looked shadowed as she studied the uniform Biana was modeling. “You’re sure sending them to Exillium is a good idea?”

“We’re going,” Biana said before Mr. Forkle could answer. “And we’ll be fine.”

She adjusted the collar of her vest and her fingers grazed a button-style pin. It had a cloudy sky as the background with a black outline of half of a standing figure. Squiggly lines in all the colors of the spectrum had replaced the other half of the figure.

“Is this because I’m a Vanisher?” she asked.

Granite nodded. “You each have pins to reflect your abilities.”

“So Sophie’s going to have four?” Fitz asked. “Won’t that kind of ruin her anonymity?”

“We raised that question with the Magistrate,” Mr. Forkle said, “and were told the ability pins are mandatory.”

“But I thought Exillium was about skills over abilities,” Sophie argued.

“It is,” Granite agreed. “And that’s why you have to wear them. The Coaches need to see what you’re naturally able to do, in order to ensure you’re not using your abilities to cheat.”

“It’s also a safety measure,” Mr. Forkle added. “To warn what strengths the other Waywards have. The Coaches keep careful records of what everyone can do.”

“Speaking of which,” Granite said, reaching into one of the trunks and pulling out a stack of thick gray envelopes with the same X symbol. “We need you to verify that we filled out these forms correctly so we can return them to the Magistrate.”

“Should we really give them this much personal information?” Della asked, reading over Biana’s shoulder.

“We have to,” Mr. Forkle said. “The records must exist in case you are ever granted a return to Foxfire.”

Sophie snorted. “Like that’s ever going to happen.”

“You never know,” Granite told her. “Timkin Heks managed it, and he’d been caught up in quite the scandal.”

Sophie frowned, remembering some gossip she’d once heard. “I didn’t know he went back to Foxfire after he was expelled.”