The tarp hovered above the pyramid, casting the structure in deep shadow—which was why it took Sophie a second to notice the more important reveal.

The glass pyramid had been repaired.

Each pane had an opalescent sheen, reflecting swirls of color across the courtyard. And when Darek dropped the tarp and let the sunlight hit the glass, it shimmered and twinkled in every color of the spectrum, as though the pyramid were built from fireworks.

“Yes,” Councillor Emery said as the crowd erupted with applause. “Thanks to the tireless—and generous—efforts of our gnomish and dwarven allies, we have brought our illustrious academy to a new level of magnificence. Even the interior of the pyramid has been completely redone with remarkable improvements.”

“You’d think they might have consulted the principal before redecorating his office,” Sir Astin muttered under his breath.

“Did you not know the pyramid had been fixed?” Sophie whispered.

“I knew they were working on it. Not that they were finished. And I’d heard nothing of the interior being altered.”

“Let this be a lesson to those afraid,” Councillor Emery said, “as well as to those who might view our world as vulnerable. Any efforts to make us weak will only make us stronger. Our resilience and resourcefulness are what have made our kind what we are. We are elves. We live to dream and inspire. And when we need to, we regroup. We rebuild. At times, we even change—but only when such changes are for the better of our people. And the time has come for one of those changes. Perhaps you’ve already noticed.”

He paused, and the crowd started calling out suggestions.

“Yes, Timkin,” Councillor Emery said, pointing to his left. “That’s exactly it.”

All heads swiveled toward the Heks family, who stood several inches taller than the other families around them. Stina and her mother were practically glowing as Councillor Emery asked Timkin, “Can you repeat that for everyone to hear?”

Timkin’s puffed-out chest made Sophie wish she could tell everyone that when he helped the Black Swan, he spent his days as Coiffe, swathed in head-to-toe white curls like a giant two-legged poodle.

“Councillor Darek raised the tarp using telekinesis,” Timkin shouted.

Emery nodded. “I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised that you were the one to notice, given your background. And yes, Darek moved the tarp with his mind. It turns out, he has the greatest telekinetic strength out of all of us on the Council. We had our own Splotching match of sorts to test it out before we came here today—but that’s a story for another time. The point is: Instead of having Councillor Liora snap her fingers and conjure the tarp away, or having Councillor Zarina disintegrate it with one of her electric charges, or even having Councillor Clarette call a flock of birds to carry it away in their talons—we chose to let Councillor Darek use telekinesis—a skill, not an ability. And we did so to remind you of the underutilized arsenal that each and every one of us possesses. That’s the beauty of skills. There are no haves and have-nots.”

“Are you trying to tell us that skills are better than abilities?” someone in the crowd shouted.

“It’s not a matter of better. It’s a matter of missed opportunities,” Emery told them. “We’ve been neglecting our skills for far too long. Somehow we’ve let ourselves become complacent about such opportunities and limited our focus to academics and abilities.”

“But you just told us they could’ve done the same thing with their abilities,” another voice yelled.

“Yes, but what would an Empath or a Telepath or a Vanisher do?” Emery asked. “I do not mean to devalue any talent—we all know the vital role that each special ability plays. But they also are limited to only a specific purpose, whereas our skills cast a much wider advantage—far wider than I suspect any of you realize. We brush on some of them in our physical education sessions at Foxfire, but it’s a far cry from the proper training such gifts should be given. So from now on, we’ll be correcting this—and before any of you protest”—he raised his arms to silence the fresh wave of murmurs—“keep in mind the precarious position we’re currently in. It’s no secret that elves are not warriors. Our minds shatter from the violence and gore. And that has led some to the mistaken conclusion that we’re also defenseless. There are even those who believe that if we were to be separated from our goblin protectors, our world would crumble—and while that’s obviously not the case, it does still raise a concern. How many of us could truly protect ourselves if the need ever arose? I’d wager only a small portion, which is unacceptable! And fortunately, we already have a system in place to help us train.”

“Oh,” Sophie breathed.

Sir Astin smiled. “I believe you’re beginning to guess the shift that’s coming.”

That didn’t make Councillor Emery’s next words any less shocking.

“All of this is why, starting next week, the Exillium campus will be stationing itself right where we’re standing, and we’ll all begin a program of specialized skill training with their Coaches.”

TWENTY

THEY’RE SENDING EVERYONE to Exillium?” Sophie asked, turning to the rest of her friends. “As in everyone?”

The crowd around them seemed to be shouting the same question.

“Yes, I do mean all of us,” Councillor Emery called over the din. “Young, old, and Ancient—all will participate in this new program, because all of us possess these vital skills. We’re in the process of designing a schedule to accommodate this rather large undertaking. But those of you here—and your families—will be the first wave. We’ll be dividing you into groups that will then be assigned to a specific day and time for training each week. The schedules will be finished by the weekend and sent out to each household. Training will begin on Monday.”

Biana grinned. “I wonder if they’ll make everyone wear the crazy uniforms.”

“Or go through a dividing,” Dex added.

When Sophie and her friends had first arrived at the Exillium campus they’d found themselves snared by thick ropes and left dangling upside down from a high metal arch while all the other Waywards watched. The method they found to escape was analyzed to determine which of the three Exillium Hemispheres they belonged to—the Left Hemisphere for those who favored logic and reason, the Right Hemisphere for those who were impulsive and creative, and the Ambi Hemisphere for those who used elements of both approaches.