“If he was a part of this,” Alden whispered. “If he . . .”

Sophie had been thinking the same thing about Keefe. He’d said he wouldn’t cross the hard lines—but would he count Wylie as one of them? Or would it be one of those “shady things” he was willing to do in order to keep playing the game?

Wraith’s sleeves moved toward Alden, reaching for him with invisible hands. “You are not responsible for your son’s actions.”

“But if we’d noticed—”

“Please don’t go down that path,” Edaline begged. “We cared for Brant for sixteen years and never suspected either.”

“It’s one of the biggest regrets of my life,” Grady said. “But I’m learning to divide the blame. Yes, I should’ve paid closer attention and asked more questions. But everything else was Brant’s choice. Brant’s actions. Brant’s wickedness. And the same goes for Alvar.”

“I’ll try to remember that,” Alden told him.

“Try to believe it,” Grady insisted.

“So where is Wylie now?” Dex asked. “Still at the Stone House?”

“No, we had Physic move him to Alluveterre once he was stable enough for a leap, since we’re assuming they’ll come after him,” Blur said. “The fact that he escaped probably means they hadn’t gotten everything they wanted from him.”

“What do they want?” Kesler asked. “Does anyone know?”

“I can’t even hazard a guess,” Mr. Forkle mumbled. “And so far, his mind has been too clouded by the trauma for us to recover much.”

“He’s not broken, right?” Sophie asked.

“Thankfully, no. The Neverseen not having a Telepath worked in our favor—though I suspect that’s also why Wylie’s injuries were so extreme. Their only means of interrogation was torture.”

Everyone shuddered, and Mr. Forkle handed the packaged Imparter to Blur. “I trust you’ll take care of getting that to our Technopath? I should get back to Alluveterre.”

“I want to go with you.”

Sophie didn’t realize she’d said the words out loud until everyone turned to her.

“No one will be able to search Wylie’s memories better than I will,” she argued.

She left out her other reason—it was too terrible to admit. But she needed to see Wylie’s memories for herself and make sure Keefe wasn’t there.

She could forgive him for shattering glass and burning gates—but standing by while someone was tortured?

She had to be sure.

“You really think you can handle it?” Edaline asked her. “Wylie probably looks awful.”

“ ‘Awful’ is not a strong enough word,” Wraith warned.

Sophie swallowed hard. “I handled Paris, right?”

“Not the same, even in the slightest,” Mr. Forkle told her.

“Doesn’t matter,” Sophie said. “Wylie needs my help.”

“For what it’s worth,” Blur chimed in, “I think she’s right. I think you should take her.”

“Take us,” Fitz corrected. “This has Cognates written all over it.”

“If they go—Dex and I are going too,” Biana added.

Mr. Forkle rubbed his temples. “Wylie is not up for visitors.”

“Then we’ll wait outside,” Biana pressed. “But we should be there. You might learn something we need to know. Or Sophie and Fitz might need moral support.”

The members of the Collective turned to each other, probably conferring telepathically.

“Very well,” Mr. Forkle eventually said through a sigh. “But I have a favor to ask.” His focus shifted to Sandor. “I need you to separate from your charge for the day. Miss Foster will be well protected by the fleet of dwarves stationed at Alluveterre. We have need of your exceptional senses in the Silver Tower. Perhaps you’ll catch something we’ve overlooked.”

“If you’re looking for powerful senses,” Grizel jumped in, “You should have me go with him. Sandor lacks a certain . . . shall we say, sensitivity?”

“If you feel comfortable separating from Mr. Vacker, we’d be happy to have your assistance,” Mr. Forkle told her. “The more thorough we are, the greater our chances of solving this mystery.”

“One condition,” Sandor said, fixing a stern gaze on Sophie. “Swear you will go nowhere beyond Alluveterre and home.”

“Are we even sure Havenfield is safe?” Sophie asked. “The Neverseen may still be planning something.”

“We’ve left most of yesterday’s precautions intact,” Brielle assured her. “And Cadoc and I will not leave their side. You can trust us to protect your family the same way you trust Sandor with your life.”

That seemed to settle things, and Sophie and her friends rushed to get dressed in fresh clothes, none of them saying a word as they hugged their parents and locked hands for the leap.

“Brace yourselves,” Mr. Forkle said as he created a path to Alluveterre. “Nothing I say can properly prepare you for what you’re about to see.”

THIRTY-TWO

SOPHIE HADN’T SET foot in Alluveterre’s subterranean forest since the day she and her friends left for their mission to Ravagog. And the scenery was as lush and beautiful as ever. But her memories blanketed everything in shadow.

Everywhere she looked, she could see signs of Calla’s former presence. Earth Calla had walked. Trees she’d touched. Roots she’d called to transport everyone underground for their various adventures. Even the air seemed to carry the faintest whispers of Calla’s songs—though Sophie knew she was probably imagining it.

“This way,” Mr. Forkle said, leading them up a winding stairway that wrapped around and around a massive tree, bringing them to one of the mansion-size tree houses. Each step felt like swallowing lemon juice mixed with something spicy, and it coated Sophie’s insides with a sour kind of burn.

Mr. Forkle had chosen the western tree house, where the boys lived during their months there, and the inside looked exactly the same as they’d left it. Same hammocks swinging from the ceiling. Same flickering fire pit in the center. But this time the boy reading on one of the boulder-shaped beanbag chairs had silver-tipped bangs.