It has to be there. I’m pretty sure this is one of the memories you were protecting. Maybe even the reason you called swan song.

The bubble burst at the words.

“I don’t know what that means,” Jolie said as they sank into the glittering oblivion. “But the phrase has a pull, like an anchor dragging me toward . . . I don’t know.”

Down they went again—so far that Sophie wasn’t sure she’d ever be able to claw her way back up. But it was worth the fall when Jolie whispered, “There.”

She waved her arms and the fragments parted, revealing three blindingly bright pieces. “Those are what you need. I . . .”

Jolie’s image vanished into the dark.

Sophie had just enough strength left to wrap her mind around the gleaming shards and transmit a call for Fitz’s help.

He sent a tidal wave of heat, launching everything up, up, up—through softness and sludginess and pain and relief until she was back in her body, shivering in a pair of warm arms that held her close and careful and wouldn’t let her fall.

“Shhhh,” Fitz whispered. “You’re back. You’re safe.”

“How’s Prentice?” she asked as Mr. Forkle pressed two fingers against her temples to check her memories.

“Same as before,” Fitz promised. “Why? What happened in there?”

“Incredible things,” Mr. Forkle whispered. Tears streamed down his wrinkly cheeks as he cleared his throat and added, “I’ll explain later. Right now we must focus. Mr. Vacker—perhaps you could ensure I’m assembling these memories properly?”

Fitz slipped into Sophie’s mind and she watched as the bits of symbol snapped together. The three diagonal lines from the original image converged with other lines bearing similar circles and dashes, all meeting in a central point and fanning out like rays from the sun.

The symbol was abstract, of course, but it reminded Sophie of an asterisk.

Or a star.

NINE

THE SYMBOL IS a Lodestar,” Sophie whispered. “Isn’t it?”

“We don’t know that for sure,” Mr. Forkle said. “Technically, the word ‘lodestar’ refers simply to any kind of star that can be used as a guide.”

“But this could easily be connected to the Lodestar Initiative,” Sophie argued.

“Perhaps it would help if we could see?” Granite suggested.

Blur retrieved a memory log from one of the apothecary drawers, and when Sophie projected the image across the stiff pages, everyone had to admit the symbol looked like a star.

“Even if the symbol is a Lodestar,” Granite said after a moment, “we’re still a long way away from understanding what it means. All those dashes and circles have to be significant. I’m assuming you saw nothing that could help us translate while you were in Prentice’s mind?”

“I wish. It seemed like Prentice didn’t even remember that he’d seen the symbol before. But . . . he only found it after I mentioned swan song. So the two must be connected.”

They all tilted their heads and squinted at the star from different angles, as if the explanation would pop out at them if they just stared hard enough.

“Soooooo,” Tam eventually said, “anyone want to explain why lodestars are so important? Or are you going to keep acting like Linh and I aren’t here?”

“Didn’t they tell you?” Fitz asked, glancing at the members of the Collective.

“I told them Keefe joined the Neverseen,” Blur said. “I didn’t get into why.”

“Care to clue us in now?” Tam asked, not sounding happy to have been kept in the dark.

Mr. Forkle explained what little they knew about the Lodestar Initiative and how Keefe’s mom seemed to have created it.

“And the Initiative had something to do with what happened to the gnomes?” Linh whispered, tugging nervously on the silver ends of her hair.

“That is unclear,” Mr. Forkle emphasized. “Fintan implied a connection when he first threatened the Council with the plague. And he made the Initiative sound as though it’s the Neverseen’s grand plan. But he also admitted to eliminating Mr. Sencen’s mother so he could take over the project, so it’s highly possible he’s made his own amendments.”

“Does Keefe know what the plan is?” Tam asked.

“He says he’s still piecing it together—but I know there’s something he isn’t telling me,” Sophie said quietly. “Maybe he’ll be more willing to share when I show him the whole symbol.”

“I assume that means you’ve found a way to transmit to him?” Mr. Forkle asked.

Sophie nodded. “We’re going to check in every night.”

“You are?” The tightness in Fitz’s voice made Sophie realize she’d forgotten to mention that detail when they talked.

“It’ll be safer this way,” she explained. “He can update me on anything he’s learned without having to sneak away.”

“Or feed you a bunch of lies,” Tam pointed out. “Hey—don’t look at me like that. You have to admit it’s possible.”

“Anything is possible,” Sophie argued. “All I know is that if I’d been brave enough to try transmitting to Keefe sooner, he wouldn’t have had to destroy part of Foxfire to warn me.”

“Whoa—back up,” Tam said. “He destroyed part of Foxfire?! Okay, seriously, am I really the only one who thinks trusting this guy is a bad idea?”

“No,” Wraith said, folding his invisible arms under his cloak. “Some of us are a bit more reluctant.”

“I’m not,” Blur jumped in.

“Well, Squall is just as torn as I am,” Wraith said. “So is Granite.”

“You are?” Sophie asked.

Granite had seemed so supportive when he first heard about Keefe. He’d even decided to reveal his true identity to help reassure her that she shouldn’t be afraid to trust people. But now he shifted his hefty weight, filling the small space with the crunch of his crystallized joints. “I don’t doubt that Mr. Sencen left with good intentions—but we can’t ignore the possibility that he might become corrupted. He’s immersed in the Neverseen’s world—training in their methods, being exposed to their teachings and theories. There’s no telling how that might influence him.”