The Wind Blows West

*koff* Heyo, I'm just gonna randomly add this old fanfic that I wrote to this wiki-- uh, it's sort of long, just warning (like 48 or so chapters-- tho I'm not going to post them all at once bc I'm too lazy to copy and paste them all rn lol)
Anways, some plot details-- this takes place around book 4, right after Sophie and her friends have been banished. 
= Prologue =
Sophie Foster.
The voice in my head is young, no older than I, that of a boy’s. It doesn’t sound like I found this mental voice, rather it found me.
Surprised? The mind chuckles softly. One would assume.
Who are you? I transmit, my hands shaking slightly. In this vile prison, anyone could be an enemy. I don’t know who to trust.
There’s no need for introductions, Sophie. You’re on a tight schedule, and I have limited time myself. So please, let’s make this easy. Free me from this prison.
	Why should I? I don’t know who you are. I bite my lip.
You and I have a common goal, Sophie. He pauses. You aim to take down the Neverseen, do you not?
	How do you— I start
That also is not of importance. His voice tenses. Free me, and I will aid you with this task. I have something ever so crucial to you.
	You might be lying.
	I might, he agrees. Make up your mind quickly, now. I haven’t much time left.
	Before what? I wonder before I can stop myself.
Before they find out. I’m under heavy surveillance, you see. Although it sounds intimidating, your task is quite simple. I need you only to say aloud one word.
	I take a moment to think about my options. Should I trust this stanger? He could help us. But again, this could be a trap.
“Are you alright, Sophie?” Fitz whispers from my side, looking worried and confused.
Don’t tell the boy, the voice commands, loud and sharp. This decision is yours to make, and yours alone.
	I tug at my eyelashes, thinking under Fitz’s piercing gaze. This could be our only chance. Or it could be our downfall. All of these prisoners are here for a reason, right? Who’s to say this boy isn’t evil?
But I can’t think of anyone more evil than the Neverseen.
So I find myself transmitting: What do I need to say?
	I can almost see his smile of triumph. Panonpoé, he transmits back.
My lips part, and I whisper the word.
With that, the voice goes silent, and my mind is only occupied by only myself once again.
= One =
I reach for a fruit from the bowl, picking a spiky purple one and hoping that it tastes somewhat decent. After relentless training, my muscles ache and my stomach growls.
A hand reaches for a fruit as I pull away, fingers brushing mine. I shiver as a chill runs through me, looking up quickly to see another masked figure standing next to me.
Covered from head to toe in the required exilium uniform, the features of this person are completely a mystery to me. The only distinguishable thing is his badge, which is unlike all of the others. It’s a swirl of multiple colors blended together, spiraling inwards with a black hand grasping at a wisp of something silver in the middle.
“It’s interesting, isn’t it?” the person muses, startling me. Embarrassed, I look away. “But then again, you seem to have many,” he continues. Something about this voice is familiar. Something that I can’t place.
It’s then that I realize his hand is touching each of my badges, running along the surfaces. Startled, I take a step back, halting his process.
“Excuse me,” I mumble.
He chuckles slightly. “I apologize for any inconvenience. But you see, it’s the only way I’ll know your abilities.”
I frown from behind my mask. “Why’s that?”
“I see with my fingertips, not my eyes. Most would call me blind, but I merley perceive the world differently.” He tilts his head to the side. “You find that odd, do you not?”
“N-No,” I say quickly. “It’s just . . . I didn’t know there were any blind elves.”
“Perhaps not by birth, no.” He moves away from the fruit bowl, holding an orange, oddly-shaped one. “These are the best ones, in case you wanted something less foul,” he tells me, holding up his fruit.
“Oh.” I stare down at my purple fruit, my mind on his words. Perhaps not by birth, no. What happened to his sight, then?
“You’re wondering about my eyes,” he notes, making me jump.
“How did you know? Are you a telepath? But usually people can’t . . .”
He runs his fingers down his fruit slowly, as if feeling for every imperfection in the shape. “One would assume.”
I’m about to ask what he means when the purple exilium coach calls, “Hurry up and eat or you’ll be hungry later.”
The boy tsks his tongue. “How disappointing, these short breaks.” He turns. “Until we meet again, Sophie Foster,” he says, before he disappears into the crowd.
After I finish the purple fruit, which tastes a little like sand, the coach has us working relentlessly at levitation. The most I can manage to stay up for is a few minutes before I plummet down. The people around me seem to be sharing the same difficulties.
“Spring off the ground,” the coach commands. “I want three minutes from all of you.”
After falling for what seems like the hundredth time, I scan the crowd, hoping to pick out the boy’s colorful badge among the others. Unable to locate it, I sigh with frustration.
My mind wanders back to our conversation. He basically admitted to reading my mind, yet his badge wasn’t that of a telepath. And even the most advanced telepaths are unable to penetrate my mind.
Tugging on my eyelashes, I rise into the air again, thinking as I levitate. What could that badge mean? What ability would allow him that knowledge?
Until we meet again, Sophie Foster.
For whatever reason, his last words swim around in my mind. It’s not until I drop from my levitating that I realize what I was missing.
How did he know my name?
My heart pounding, I am sure that I recognize that voice. But where have I heard it?
I want answers.
My legs shake slightly as I rise from the ground. I focus my thoughts, transmitting one sentence. Who are you?
His voice fills my head, loud and clear as his speaking voice was. Please refrain from screaming. It gives me a headache enough to merely listen to your thoughts. Transmitting from this close isn’t necessary.
	I frown, trying to quiet my mental voice. How can you read my thoughts so clearly? Are you slipping past my blocking?
	There’s no need, Sophie Foster. Your mind is practically shouting.
	I grind my teeth together, frustrated. My thoughts aren’t loud.
Quite the contrary, his mental voice says. But yet again, that’s not exactly your fault.
Sighing, I think, You’re not a telepath.
	Interesting of you to assume that. I am reading your mind, am I not? You are very peculiar, Sophie Foster. And I’m not saying you are wrong, but that’s a topic for another discussion. Mind you, as private as I’m making this conversation, here is neither the time nor the place to discuss secrets.
	Fine, I think. Then later.
If you wish. He pauses. I assume I’ll come with you, so you can inform your friends of this. And the bloated elf.
	My face reddens. How do you know about all of them?
	I do admit, I was searching through your thoughts, but only this once. Information is crucial, wouldn’t you agree? It’s best for me to know about a situation before I walk into it. As for the secrecy of where you’re staying, I will not disclose the information to anyone.
Don’t listen to secrets like that! I let out a breath. Look, I have no idea why my mind is so open to you, but please, can you respect my privacy?
	There’s a moment of silence before he thinks, Alright. To the best of my abilities, I will comply.
	Thank you. I take a moment to collect my thoughts, then think, At the end of the day, meet up with me at the top of the hill. I’ll need to introduce you to my friends first.
	Fair enough. I can hear his small smirk in his next words as he transmits, In case you wished to know, the coach seems to be very disapproving of your groundedness.
	As he severs our connection, I whip around, finding the coach staring at me from behind her mask. Embarrassed, I rise from the ground once again, resuming my levitation.
= Two =
I spot a lone figure at the top of the hill as I walk from the Exilium camp. I quicken my pace, thinking it’s the boy. Instead, I recognize Fitz’s painted handprint and telepath badge.
Sophie, he transmits, making me jump, how was your day?
I reach the top of the hill, standing next to him. About that. 
Did something happen? he wonders, his gaze from behind the mask almost as nerve-wracking as his piercing teal eyes.
Well, I— I start, but am cut off by Keefe’s voice.
“I’m getting some major Fitzphie vibes here,” he says, sauntering towards us with Dex and Biana behind him.
I blush, looking away from Fitz. “It’s not—”
“Yeah, we know. Cognates.” Keefe smirks. “Looks to me like a whole bunch of staring into each other’s eyes.”
Dex makes a gagging motion behind him, and I glare at them both, although I doubt they’d be able to tell from behind my mask.
I’m about to make a retort when a voice stops me.
“Sophie Foster. How peculiar your friends are.”
All eyes turn towards the boy, who stands a few feet away. His badge stands out now more than ever among all of ours.
“Who are you?” Fitz asks, his accented voice all but welcoming.
I suppose it is time for an introduction, he transmits to me. Aloud, he says, “You may call me West.”
“West. Dude, your name is strange,” Keefe comments.
“Keefe Sencen, it’s only strange if you perceive it to be,” the boy—West—tells him.
Keefe takes a step back. “Woah, that’s creepy. Do I know you?”
“I suppose not,” West muses.	
“What’s going on?” Biana wonders, staring at West. “Sophie, why is this boy here? Do you know him?”
“Sort of.” I look down. “He’s coming to Alluveterre. Just briefly, to discuss.”
“To discuss what, exactly?” Fitz demands. “Aren’t we a team? Shouldn’t we make decisions like this together?”
My face heats up. “I’m sorry, it’s just—”
How do you know he’s not part of the Neverseen? Fitz transmits.
“I can assure you, I am not,” West says, making Fitz jump a little.
“Are you reading my mind?” Fitz demands. “You’re not a telepath. How are you reading my mind?” He stares at West’s badge.
“Let’s discuss in private, shall we?”
Fitz opens his mouth to argue, but I transmit to him before he can speak. Fitz, please. Trust me.
He closes his mouth after a moment, making a soft growl of sorts but not pressing on the topic. “Fine,” he says, his voice still portraying his anger.
“Shall we?” West asks, spreading his hands wide. 
I glance at Biana and Dex, their expressions mostly hidden by their masks. After a moment, I hold up my leaping crystal, letting it catch the light to create a shimmering beam.
As we step into the light, I can’t help but wonder: What if I’ve made the wrong decision?
Mr Forkle awaits us as we step from the light beam into the common room of Alluveterre. West runs his fingers along the wall, feeling the smooth material.
“How intriguing your leaders are,” he notes, reaching for a flower and plucking a petal from the blossoming bud. He rubs it between his finger and thumb.
Mr Forkle’s eyebrows knit together as he stares at the masked boy. After a moment, he gasps, taking a stumbling step backwards and bringing his fingers to his temples.
“I would not advise trying to read my mind, bloated elf. It will only result in your pain.” He brings the flower petal to his nose, sniffing it once. 
“Who are you?” Mr Forkle asks.
“You can address me as West. Sophie Foster seemed confused by my abilities. I’m here for questioning. Isn’t that right, Sophie Foster?”
I nod slowly.
Mr Forkle eyes West warily. “You have a very powerful elf with you, Miss Foster.”
“But he’s not a telepath.” I remove my mask, pulling back my hood and staring up at the boy. “What is your ability?”
“I puzzle you,” he notes. “It is very puzzling. One of a kind, Sophie Foster. Much like yourself.”
“I don’t understand,” I say.
Keefe pipes up before West can explain. “Why don’t you remove your hood? You know, take off the mask and stay a while?”
West rubs his flower petal again. “Keefe Sencen, if removing disguises were crucial, your leaders would expose themselves as well, don’t you think?”
“This is different,” Biana says. “If you won’t show us your face, how can we know you’re who you say you are? How can we trust you?”
“I’m not here for your trust, Biana Vacker. I’m merely here for the fulfillment of a promise.” He places the petal in the pocket of his exilium uniform. “Nonetheless, compliance would be nice.”
I watch with curiosity as he removes his hood, revealing tawny brown hair. When he takes off his mask, I choke on my breath. His irises are completely a whitish-gray, the same you often see in the eyes of blind humans or animals.
“What’s up with your eyes?” Dex asks, breaking the silence.
“They were burned out by an elvin substance to ensure safety.” He says it like it’s simple; a fact.
My own eyes widen. “What do you mean, ‘to ensure safety’?”
“The bloated elf seems to know,” West comments.
I turn around to face Mr Forkle, who’s swollen face is pale as a ghost. His eyes are focused on West’s badge as he says, “Miss Foster, are you unaware of who that is?”
I look from Mr Forkle to West, then to the faces of my friends. They all look confused, while West’s lips are set into an amused smile.
“You’re the thief,” Mr Forkle says, still staring at the badge.
“I suppose that’s what one might call me,” West agrees.
“I don’t understand,” I repeat. 
Mr Forkle’s blue eyes move to mine. “Miss Foster, he is blind because of his ability. The Council had to limit the thief’s ability to ensure the safety of this world. If they hadn’t, he would be able to steal another’s ability simply by looking at them.”
“As the bloated elf says,” West continues, “I steal with my fingertips, much the same as how I see.”
I find myself backing away, thinking rapidly for if we’ve made any contact. My heart pounding, I realize his hand brushed up against mine at the fruit bowl. Did he steal any of my abilities? Was that what that feeling was?
“Sophie Foster, I rarely ever steal. It’s really quite peculiar that you would suspect me after I so freely gave away my identity.”
Fitz moves in front of me. “If you did anything to her, I swear—”
“I did not alter Sophie Foster,” West assures him.
“Dude, I did not like how you just said ‘alter’. Creepy.” Keefe stands a little closer to me as he speaks. “What are you here for, anyways?”
“Sophie Foster was intrigued by my mysteriousness,” he says. 
I tug on my eyelash. “I still have a question.”
“Perhaps I have an answer.”
I frown, staring at his interesting badge again. “How many abilities do you have? Or rather, how many have you . . . have you stolen?”
“That, Sophie Foster, is best kept a mystery.”
= Three =
“I still don’t understand why you’re here.” Keefe stares at West skeptically, his eyes showing his lack of trust. “What can you gain from giving us information?”
“It’s not what I can gain, Keefe Sencen. It’s what I did.” 
Confusion settles into me. What could he have gained from this meeting? Nothing, unless he stole an ability, which he claimed he didn’t.
“Intriguing, it is, to hear you always jumping back to the same conclusion,” West notes, making me realize once again that my thoughts aren’t private while I’m around him. “Sophie Foster, whether it has escaped your memory or not, you have aided me in the past.”
Something clicks inside of me. “You’re . . . you’re that voice . . . from Exile . . .” I stumble back a step. “You escaped.”
“Hold up, you’re saying he’s a prisoner? From Exile?” Keefe asks warily.
“What did you do?” I ask, my mind spinning. 
“People fear power.” He shakes his head. “It’s a shame, quite frankly. Society would be nowhere without it.”
Mr Forkle’s eyes narrow. “With as much power as you have, every living being is in danger.”
“Which is precisely why my eyes are no longer at my service, bloated elf,” West responds. 
Fitz’s hands are clenched into fists by his sides. “If you think that changes anything, you’re wrong. With an ability like yours, it’s almost natural to lock you away.”
“Perhaps.” West’s blind eyes stare into nothing as he says, “I must hold up on my part of our deal, Sophie Foster, whether your friends view my assistance as needed or not.”
“What deal—” I start, then recall the mental conversation from Exilium. You aim to take down the Neverseen, do you not?
“Precisely,” West agrees in response to my thought.
Fitz glares at West. “I don’t understand. How do you read our thoughts so easily? Sophie’s blocking is beyond that of almost all elves in existence.”
“Mr Vacker,” Mr Forkle says, “each of the thief’s abilities surpass that of ours.”
“But we’re cognates,” Fitz argues.
Keefe rolls his eyes. “Here we go again.”
“I’m serious!” Fitz studies his cognate rings. “Sophie and I can break past any mental blocking shield, and no one’s been able to read Sophie’s mind but Mr Forkle.”
“It’s quite hard not to listen when one is shouting their thoughts at one’s self,” West says.
“Sophie’s mental voice is anything but loud,” Fitz contradicts. 
“The loudest minds,” West says slowly, “are often the ones that have something to hide.”
My cheeks redden. “I’m not hiding anything.”
“If you insist,” West replies, in a way that makes me want to further argue in my defense. I manage to keep my mouth shut, however, thinking denial may cause suspicion. I’m not hiding anything, though, I think to myself.
A small part of my mind questions my thought, but I stop it before it can grow any bigger.
Instead, I ask, “How are you going to help us stop the Neverseen?”
“Wait a moment.” Keefe’s eyebrows are raised so far up that they’ve disappeared beneath his tousled hair. “Are you saying he offered to help us take down the Neverseen? And you didn’t think this information was crucial enough to share before?”
“It’s not that, I just—” I start.
“No way.” Fitz cuts me off before I can finish. “I don’t trust him one bit. Letting him help us, even letting him know what we know . . . No. Sophie, it’s a trap.”
West looks amused. “An intriguing thought, Fitz Vacker.”
I look at the floor. “Fitz, I made a deal with him—”
“One that you didn’t bother sharing with any of us,” Biana adds.
“Yes, okay. I admit, I didn’t act wisely. I should have told you guys. But he may be our only chance to free this world from the Nevereseen’s evil. I don’t think we should write him off just yet.”
“Miss Foster, if I may,” Mr Forkle says, “it’s unwise to allow the thief this much information without ensuring his compliance to our rule of secrecy. If you do wish to have him aid you, which I strongly advise against, he must swear fealty to our order.”
“Bloated elf, that is one thing I can not agree on. However, I can promise to follow the laws of secrecy strictly,” West says.
“Another reason why we can’t trust him,” Fitz grumbles. “Sophie, he’s practically giving us warning signs as we speak!”
I hold up my hand. “I know you don’t trust him, Fitz. But I think we should have a vote. We’re a team, right? I know I haven’t been the best teammate lately, but I promise, no more rash decisions and secrets.”
Dex and Biana nod, while Keefe twists his hands together and Fitz glares at the floor.
“Who thinks West should help?” I ask.
Biana’s the first to raise her hand. “He seems a little strange, but I do think if we have a lead, we should take it.”
“Curious, curious,” West murmurs. His amused smile still turns up the corners of his lips.
“I agree with Biana,” Dex says, quickly raising his hand.
Fitz shoots them both a look. “This is wrong. You’re making a mistake.”
Keefe glances at me quickly. “As much as I hate to disagree with Foster, I think we shouldn’t let him in on all of our knowledge. He seems like a pretty sketchy guy.”
West chuckles as I take a moment to meet the eyes of everyone in the group.
“I think he should help us.” I look at Fitz, who’s teal eyes are narrowed. “He did make a deal with me, and he’s kept his side of the promise so far.”
“The odds are in my favor,” West says. “Unless the bloated elf is participating.”
Mr Forkle gives me a long look. “Miss Foster, I will not participate in your vote, but I do think you should truly consider all parts of this situation. You’re agreeing to work with a very dangerous elf.”
I bite my lip. “We’ll be carefull.”
“I hope so,” he whispers.
West holds out his hand. “Shall we shake on it, Sophie Foster?”
I begin to reach for his outstretched hand, then stop. “How do I know you won’t steal one of my abilities?”
“Very peculiar. An alliance is about trust, is it not? And while you trust me with your secrets, you won’t merley touch the palm of my hand?”
“Fine,” I say. Fitz sucks in a breath from behind me as I shake West’s hand, but I feel nothing strange, even after I pull away.
“How intriguing your abilities are, Sophie Foster,” West notes.
I pull my hand to my chest. “Did you—”
“Your thoughts are painfully of full volume,” he says, making me let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding in.
“I don’t fully understand this teleporting ability,” he comments. “Very intriguing. Would you allow me to share?”
“What?!” I step back. “I thought you said you wouldn’t steal my abilities!”
“‘Steal’ is different than ‘share,’ Sophie Foster. I’ve merley requested a fraction of your conscious ability, so small that one would fail to notice its absence.”
“Absolutely not,” Mr Forkle says firmly. “I shall make one thing clear now: By requesting an alliance with these kids, you must promise not to steal anything from them.”
“Bloated elf, you seem excessively wary of me. I requested permission, did I not? Should Sophie Foster decline, I shall comply,” West assures him.
“Then no,” I say quickly.
“Fair enough,” he says. “I shall return to my place of rest and be at your aid tomorrow.”
He holds up a pale yellow crystal, and I find myself calling, “Wait! What about our questions?”
“Seeming that I am now at your service until our common obstacle is removed, Sophie Foster, there will be much time for discussions. Would you not agree?”
I nod begrudgingly as he steps into the light beam, leaving us alone in the common room of Alluveterre.
= Four =
I step out of the beam of light, feeling the bitter chill of the air around us. Snow nearly blinds me, soaking into my uniform and collecting on any surface it can cling to.
“Why couldn’t they choose a normal place for once?” Dex demands, crossing his arms over his chest as he shivers. Biana, Keefe, and Fitz don’t look much better.
I’m about to reply when a long howl fills the air, cutting me off.
Sharing a look of alarm with my friends, I trudge through the heavy snow, walking towards the camp. I can just barely make out the shapes of the cloaked Waywards, seated according to group.
“I don’t like the sound of that,” Keefe whispers as the howl rings out again.
I nod my agreement, squinting into the blizzard. “Let’s go to our hemispheres,” I say. “I’ll see you at the end of the day.”
We split up, me walking towards the ambient hemisphere. The purple coach stares off into the distance, facing away from the Waywards.
I stand in a random place, next to a figure with an Empath badge. They give me a sideways glance before turning to face forward.
After a few moments, the coach turns around, announcing to the Waywards that we’ll be working on telekinesis. The howls continue as she places rocks in front of all of us, making the space eerie.
What is making that noise? I shudder, thinking I probably don’t want to know.
Winterwolves, Sophie Foster. West’s voice is clear in my head. They prey on the strength of other creatures.
I jump a little, startled. Were you listening to my thoughts again?
	As I said, your mind is excruciatingly loud. 
Where are you? I ask as I scan the crowd, searching for his badge. Much like yesterday, I am unable to locate the bright wash of colors, although my vision is limited by the snowfall.
When he doesn’t answer, I push out my consciousness, hoping to locate his mind among the others. For a few moments, I find nothing. Then a sharp pain cuts through my head, severing my connection. It feels almost as if I’ve run into a wall at full speed.
Sophie Foster, I advise against trying to enter my mind, as I told the bloated elf, West’s mental voice says.
I’m sorry, I think sheepishly. It’s just, you didn’t answer, so . . .
Such a peculiar need to obtain my whereabouts, he muses. One would assume maintaining connection would be enough.
	I find myself tugging at my eyelashes. I was just wondering.
He pauses. It is quite intriguing how you lose sight of the tasks at hand while communicating with me.
I blink, looking around me and realizing that the other Waywards are trying to lift the heavy rocks from the ground with telekinesis. I focus my mind on my own, lifting in from the thick snow with my mind.
How did you know I wasn’t doing it? I wonder. Can’t you not see me?
Curious. I am reading your mind, am I not? You’re constantly showing me mental images of your surroundings, Sophie Foster, whether it’s consciously or not. 
Oh. I raise my rock a little higher. I didn’t realize.
	Another ear-splitting howl breaks my concentration, causing the rock to fall back down to the snow. My heart pounds in my chest as two more follow the first. They sound significantly closer than the last time. I notice the purple coach is starring in the direction of the howls again, her stance ridgid. 
	Why do they sound closer? I ask mentaly.
West’s voice is almost amused. They appear to be hunting.
	It’s because of our abilities, right? I can’t stop the panic from leaking into my thoughts. Are they dangerous?
	Quite. 
I squint into the heavy snow, wishing I could see the approaching beasts. What about my friends? They’re all in the other hemispheres! 
“Sophie Foster, your panic is quite amusing.” West’s voice is surprisingly close, and I whirl around to find him standing directly behind me.
“West, you scared me,” I hiss.
He removes one of his gloves, holding out his exposed hand. “Your wrist, if I may.”
I hesitate. “What are you going to do?” As much as I want to trust him, his ability is something that scares even the highest of nobility. And the thought of having one of mine stolen makes me shiver.
“Did I not assure you that I would refrain from stealing abilities?” He turns his hand palm-up. “Unless you desire the winterwolves to attack the others, please allow me to hold your wrist.”
“What are you going to do?” I repeat through chattering teeth as he removes his glove.
“You will be the bait, Sophie Foster.” Amusement leaks into his voice again. “And I’m truly quite curious to see the effects of enhancing you.”
“You’re an enhancer?”
“Among others,” he admits.
“Then why wasn’t I enhanced before, when you shook my hand?” It’s only after I’ve asked the question that I remember Mr Forkle’s words. Each of the thief’s abilities surpass that of ours.
“Precisely why my enhancing is controlled,” he agrees.
I shudder, thinking about how he must have obtained the ability. But I still hold out my arm, pushing my sleeve up to expose my bare wrist.
He feels around for a moment before his fingers touch the right place. For an anticipation-filled moment, nothing happens.
In the next second, warmth shoots through my body, making everything snap into focus as I feel my senses sharpen. My ears ring with the sound of a thousand words, and my head aches with pictures flashing at me from every direction. It’s as if every thought for miles is being thrown at my mind, pushing everything else out. 
The heat intensifies yet. Everything becomes louder, louder, louder. It’s overwhelming, but it doesn’t stop. And then it’s too much, too fast, too hot.
I scream as the sound of howling surrounds me, while the searing-hot pain makes my body spasm. Stop stop stop stop STOP!
And then the noise fades.
I am dragged into a deep blackness as the warmth is flushed from my body, leaving everything feeling dull once again.
= Five =
My head pounds as I drift slowly from my heavy sleep into reality, feeling as if it’s being hit repeatedly with something hard. I moan, rolling onto my side and pressing my eyelids together in an attempt to stop the continuous pain.
“Miss Foster?”
The voice comes from beside my bed. I open my eyes slowly, then blink once, twice, a third time, until the features of the room come into focus.
Embarrassment immediately heats up my face. I’m laying in my bed in Alluveterre, dressed in my furry pajamas. I don’t want to know when that happened. 
But the worst part: All of my friends surround me, looking at my face with concerned expressions. Mr Forkle stands slightly in front of them, and, much to my surprise, West stands next to the wall.
I suck in a sharp breath as the events of the previous day come back to me in a rush.
Not yesterday, West’s mental voice corrects.
“How long have I been out for?” I ask, not sure I want to know the answer.
Fitz turns to glare at West as Mr Forkle replies, “A little more than three days, Miss Foster.”
“What?!” I sit up quickly, ignoring the pain in my head. “How? What even happened?”
West speaks, his voice earning hard stares from multiple of my friends. “Enhancing didn’t operate as planned. Nonetheless, it was effective.”
“How can you act so calm?” Fitz demands. “You screwed up, all because of your freakish ability and strength or whatever.”
“It was quite a rash decision to force that kind of power upon Miss Foster,” Mr Forkle adds disapprovingly.
I tug on an eyelash. “But why did it knock me out?”
“You don’t trust me, Sophie Foster,” West says. “Your mind rejected my power because you have doubt.”
Mr Forkle pinches the bridge of his nose. “You could have very well killed Miss Foster. From here on out, I am making one thing clear: deal or not, you will stay far away from Miss Foster and her friends. Do you understand?”
“Mr Forkle—” I start.
“He’s right,” Fitz hisses, his eyes narrowed. “You could have died. It doesn’t matter whether he blames it on you or not. He nearly killed you.”
“But—” I try again.
Keefe stops me. “Fitz is right, Sophie. As much as I want to take down the Neverseen, West’s a little too dangerous to be helping us.”
“You too?” I look down at the bed sheet covering my body.
“I agree,” Dex says quietly. “Sophie, I know you don’t like it, but as much as I thought I’d never agree with the council, they blinded him and locked him up for a reason.”
West just listens, the corners of his mouth twitching as if he finds this all amusing.
“Biana?” I ask hopefully, pleading silently that she’ll disagree with the others.
She looks away. “I’m sorry, Sophie.”
Fitz’s voice is hard as he says to West, “You heard us. We’ve made our decision. Now get out before you hurt someone else.”
West’s amused smile finally settles on his lips, making Fitz breath harder with his anger. He pulls out his crystal, creating a beam of light.
Before he steps into the light, he speaks the same words as he did when we first met in the  Exilium camp just a short while ago. “Until we meet again, Sophie Foster.”
Then his body glitters away and the light fades.
= Six =
The rest of the week blends together in a blur: restless nights, days searching the exilium camp for any signs of West. As always, I’m unable to find any trace of him. When I think his name, he doesn’t reply. When I look for his badge, I find no swirling colors, only the normal badges of the other ability-welders. It’s almost as if he never existed.
My time at Alluveterre is much the same as it had been before everything. Mr Forkle trains us with our abilities relentlessly, as if making up for the few days we lost. I find myself doing more and more cognate exercises with Fitz, something that I haven’t been too thrilled about. He’s asked me more than a few times if I am angry at him. I don’t want to be, but how could I not? How could I stop myself from feeling a seed of anger towards him after he destroyed our only chance of defeating the Neverseen? Isn’t that what we’re here for?
“Hey,” Keefe says, one morning as I eat a quiet breakfast. “Are you okay?”
I stare at my small plate of gnomish vegetables, shrugging. “I’m fine.”
“For real?” He lowers his voice. “Sophie, if you want to talk to me, or scream at me, or throw all of those ridiculously-tall heeled shoes at my head, you can. Seriously, I’m here for you, even if it means enduring the wrath of Foster.”
I sigh, pushing my plate away. “I’m not going to pelt you with shoes, Keefe.”
“Not yet,” he corrects. “How about you tell me what’s on your mind?”
I tug on an itchy eyelash. “I don’t know. I just feel like we were on the right track for once. I mean, the Neverseen might always seem one step ahead of us, but West is crazy powerful, and he offered to help. That could have put us in the lead.”
Keefe leans back in his seat. “I do get where you’re coming from, Sophie. It’s just, as helpful as the crazy powerful part could be, haven’t we sort of learned that power always comes with a cost? Look at Brant. And Fintan.”
“But that’s different,” I protest. “They would have been fine if the council hadn’t banned their abilities.”
“The council banned West, too,” Keefe points out. “And they burned out his eyes, which I find incredibly freaky, for the record.”
“He’s not running off to join the Neverseen,” I contradict.
Keefe runs a hand through his tousled hair. “He could be a spy. I’m not saying he is, it’s just . . . he seems a little suspicious. With an ability like his, and time spent in exile, I’m not sure if we can trust him.”
I sigh. “I understand.”
He reaches across the table, as if to put his hand on mine, but stops. “Look, Sophie. I really am sorry that it turned out like this.”
I’m about to reply when Dex’s voice stops me.
“Um, sorry to break up whatever this is, but we need to get to exilium,” he says, staring at Keefe’s extended hand with an unreadable expression in his eyes.
Keefe pulls back. “Sophie just couldn’t stop commenting about my awesome hair.” He feins a yawn. “The usual.”
I punch him lightly in the arm. “Not true.”
“Woah, feisty, aren’t you.” Keefe smirks. “Go get your uniform on, Foster.”
Fifteen minutes later, we’re leaping to Exilium. When we step out of the light beam, my skin prickles with the uncomfortable heat. Sand shifts underfoot, blowing with the steady wind and drifting into dunes.
“Oh great, a desert?” Keefe complains, looking around. The camp is set in the middle of the barren landscape, standing out against the dull sand.
“Always whining,” I remark. “Come on. Let’s get going.”
“Whatever you say, Foster,” he says, faking a salute.
We trudge through the grainy sand, shifting underneath my feet with each step. Small breezes make the surface shift again and again, constantly changing shape. 
We near the camp, separating to attend our hemispheres. As rountienley, I stand among the others bearing purple handprints, waiting for instructions from the coach.
As I wait, I can’t help my thoughts from swirling back to West. Specifically, the last day I saw him. Why did you agree to leave? I wonder, half hoping for a response. But as usual, his mental voice doesn’t respond to my thoughts. 
What is it that Mr Forkle and the others don’t trust in him? What is it that I don’t trust in him? He offered his help, something we desperately need, only to be turned down. I know my friends are worried, but this is much bigger than just my own safety. The Neverseen endangers everyone, and we could stop them.
I bite my lip as the purple coach shows us how to cool ourselves down in the sweltering heat with body temperature regulation. Once again, I’m at crossroads.
My friends want me to stay away from him. Mr Forkle wants me to stay away from him. I should be good and listen to them
But yet again, I’ve never been the good girl.
West, I think, keeping my thoughts inside my head to spare him from the ache he feels when I transmit.
I wait a few seconds, but there’s only silence in my head.
West, I repeat, pushing my thoughts out a little. He may not have heard me.
When another thirty seconds pass of silence, I start to wonder if he’s even at Exilium. Would he have not come back, now that we no longer are going to work with him?
So I take a deep breath, gathering all of my mental energy and forcing it into the open space, transmitting a final, loud, WEST!
Sophie Foster, you’ve successfully given me a migraine.
For a moment, I’m so pleased at hearing his mental voice once again that I can only contain my excitement. Then his words sink in and I cringe.
Sorry, I think sheepishly.
There’s a long pause, and I’m about to think his name again when he replies, Your friends have put a restraining order on me, have they not?
Yes, but—
I am of your need. I can almost hear his small smirk in his words.
Yes, I admit. 
He pauses, as if collecting his thoughts. Sophie Foster, how unusual of you to wish to betray your friends in a way like this.
	A twinge of guilt enters my mind, but I crush it before it can grow. I don’t want to do this to them. But I need your help.
And how can you be certain that I am able aid you in your attempts to disband the Neverseen?
	West’s question stops me. What if he doesn’t know anything? What if he just made that deal so he could escape from Exile? 
I shake my head. I have to trust him. I didn’t before, and that’s why all of this happened.
I know you didn’t lie, I respond.
You want to trust me to prevent further casualties. Is that correct?
I take a moment to find the right words. Yes and no. I really need your help, and I don’t want anyone to get hurt. But I promise, I’m not just trying to use you for my own benefit.
Peculiar, Sophie Foster. If you believe your words, so will I. 
I’m not sure what to make of this. So instead, I think, When can we talk in person?
	He takes a little while to answer. I assume you would prefer the secrecy of our meetings? 
	That guilty feeling reaches its shadowed hands back into my mind. Aren’t we a team? Shouldn’t we make decisions like this together? Fitz’s voice in my head makes me cringe. I don’t want to do this to my friends. I shouldn’t do this to them. But yet again, what choice do I have?
Yes, I agree finally. 
In that case, we shall meet tomorrow evening. You may accompany myself to my place of rest.
I tug on my eyelashes. I don’t know if I can sneak away from my friends so soon.
Your mind is a very curious place, Sophie Foster. I have no doubt that you will surface rather intriguing means of escape.
	I’m not sure I agree, but I’ll try. Tomorrow, then. And . . . thank you. For helping me.
	It is only customary, after your help in the past. 
As his thoughts leave my mind, I find myself looking behind me, a guilty, anxious part of my mind fearing that any one of my friends might have heard our conversation. Of course, no one is so much as looking my way.
This is for the best, I tell myself as I turn back around. The world needs our help, whether they know it or not.
Then why do I feel so terrible about all of this?
= Seven =
I lie awake in bed that night, tangled in bedsheets from constant tossing and turning. Guilt is a strange thing, it builds in unexpected places and slowly takes over. Even the calming scent of the room can’t stop the shadows from filling my mind.
I try to convince myself that this is my duty. I am the Moonlark. I need to take responsibility. I need to act.
But your friends, my mind whispers. Imagine their faces when they realize how you’ve betrayed them.
I clutch Ella tightly, curling onto my side as my stomach tightens into a knot. They’ll forgive you. They’ll understand once it’s all over.
	Will they?
	I take a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down. It’s fine. You’re fine. Just sleep.
And although it takes hours, sleep does eventually come. My dreams are as dark as the sky, a vast field of nothingness.
I wake with a tangled mess of hair and the blankets strewn on the floor around the bed. Still half-asleep, I rise from the mattress, walking to the closet and putting on boring clothes underneath my Exilium uniform.
It’s not until I’m halfway downstairs that I realize with a jolt: I’m meeting with West today.
And of course, the nervous jitters resume.
Fitz seems to notice at the breakfast table, as he asks, “Are you okay, Sophie? You seem a little anxious today.”
“I’m fine,” I assure him, wondering if I sound even halfway convincing. I reach across the table for a piece of bread when Fitz’s hand lightly wraps around my wrist.
“This doesn’t look ‘fine,’” he says, holding my arm up so I can see my shaking hand.
I look away, moving my arm back to my side. “Seriously, Fitz, I’m okay. I just got a bad night’s sleep.”
“Sophie,” Biana says as she joins us at the table, “you can talk to us. You know that, right? We’re your friends.”
And those are the words that bring the most guilt. I find my stomach twisting once again, leaving no room for breakfast.
“Foster? You in there?” Keefe stares at me, his head tilted slightly to the side.
I stare at the table. “Yeah. Sorry.”
I see Fitz and Keefe share a look of concern out of the corner of my eye, but they seem to understand that I don’t want to talk about it.
“Are you done with breakfast, Sophie?” Fitz asks.
I nod. “I’m good. And thank you. For worrying about me.” I find myself blushing, although I know it’s stupid and pointless, especially with my betrayel on the horizon.
Fitz’s perfectly accented voice still holds a hint of his worry as he says, “You’re welcome.”
Keefe stands from the table. “Alrighty, then. Let’s get going to the one and only Exilium. We wouldn’t want to be late, would we?”
“Actually, I would,” Dex retorts.
“So would I, for the record,” Biana agrees.
“Tough crowd.” Keefe glances at me. “You coming, Sophie?”
I stand up and join them for our light leap, already dreading the hours to come.
= Eight =
The first half of training passes by slowly, every second crawling as I work myself harder than I ever have. Anything to keep my mind off of the guilt.
When lunch break comes, I’m sweaty and exhausted, stumbling towards the fruit bowl blindly. I almost crash into the cloaked figure standing before me, and I mumble a quick apology before I recognize the swirling colors of West’s ability badge.
“Sophie Foster. How tired you seem. Have you been fretting over our meeting?” West asks, his voice bringing me all sorts of weird emotions.
“N-No,” I stammer, stepping back. Part of me is excited to see him again, even if I know what everyone else would think. 
“Peculiar.” He stands eerily still, almost like a statue. “Did I not instruct that you devise an escape plan?”
“Oh.” I realize with a start that I completely forgot to make up something to tell the others. Stupid, stupid, stupid.
When he pauses, I blush, remembering that he can hear all of my thoughts. He doesn’t comment, though, instead says, “Would you care to accompany me now?”
“Right now?” My eyes dart to the other Waywards, gathered for lunch. 
“I suppose. It seems to be the most logical solution, does it not?” 
My stomach churns. “Won’t someone notice that we’re gone? Won’t they notice two people light leaping away from camp?”
“For that, I have a solution. And I can assure you, no one will miss us.”
I bit my lip, thinking for a moment before I reply, “Okay.”
He reaches out his hand. “If I may.”
Reluctantly, I place mine in his, remembering the last time he asked for my wrist. Calm down, Sophie. He’s not going to do that again.
“Sophie Foster, worrying does you no good. It’s intriguing, your amount of doubt.”
West leads me away from the camp, while I look back over my shoulder, wondering in alarm why he’s making no effort to hide our departure.
“There is no need to hide when no one is looking,” he replies, in response to my worries.
“They could look,” I point out.
“Possibly,” he muses. “How intriguing that would be.”
I sigh and turn back around, staring at the forest we’re approaching. The trees are tall and green, looking old but sturdy. Moss hangs from the branches.
“Where are we going? Don’t we need to light leap?” I wonder aloud.
He reaches into his pocket, removing a pale yellow crystal. “Do you agree that a sudden flash of light would attract the attention of others? The trees are merely our protection.”
I frown at the beam of light he creates, wondering why we’re leaping to the Neutral Territories. But I still follow him into the beam, leaping away to wherever his “place of rest” may be.
As West and I step from the beam, a pungent odor hits my nose. Swamp water, I think, looking around and seeing that our surroundings match the scent.
The ground is spongy and wet, squishing underfoot in an unpleasant way. Twisted trees claw upwards in attempts to grab the sky, while green, algae covered ponds dot the ground. 
“You find this most unpleasant, do you not?” West’s takes my arm, surprising me. 
“West, what are you—” I start.
“Would you lead me, Sophie Foster? I would prefer to keep my clothes dry, since we are returning shortly.”
“Oh. Okay.” 
We walk down the dry path, until a small, shack-like structure comes into view. I squint at it, noticing its patchwork-build and thatched roof.
“Do you live here?” I ask. 
“Reside is the more accurate of statements.” West releases my arm, stepping away and running his fingers over the bark of a gnarled tree. “Shall we discuss outside or inside?”
“Outside’s fine,” I say. I reach upwards, removing my hood and mask. West does the same, his blind eyes prominent against his face.
He spreads his hands wide in his presenting gesture after he’s rid of all disguises. “You may question me as you desire.”
I tug at a strand of my hair. “What do you know about the Neverseen?”
“Curious.” His lips curve upward at the corners, just slight enough to be noticed. “One would assume that a question such as this would be your first.”
As he stares into nothing, I find my heart beating as I wait for his answer.
Finally, he says, “A lot of things, Sophie Foster. I know a lot of things about the Neverseen. After all, it’s where my genes originated.”
His confusing word choice, as always, has my mind working overtime to decode it. And when the meaning sinks in, I stumble back a step.
“Do you mean . . .” I am unable to finish.
He finishes for me. “My biological mother and father were and are a part of the Neverseen.”
= Nine =
The doubt comes back.
Then the guilt.
The choruses of why didn’t you listen to your friends?
The I knew I shouldn’t have trusted him.
And he just watches with his unseeing eyes, listening to it all, looking amused as he always does, waiting for me to make the next move.
He told me. He told me he wasn’t part of the Neverseen. Was he lying?
	“I was not,” he replies, breaking the silence.
“But you . . .” Goosebumps rise on my arms, and I step back another small step, recoiling from the boy who lied to me.
And he still smiles, still looks calm as he stands there, no doubt hearing my rapid-fire thoughts, no doubt knowing the trust he’s broken between us.
It’s not his fault, I think suddenly. It’s not his fault who his family is. He didn’t choose this any more than I did with becoming the Moonlark. There are things in life we can’t control.
	“Conflicted, you are,” he notes.
“West, I don’t know . . . Can I trust you?”
“As I wonder myself.” He’s so calm. So, so calm.
I exhale, letting the words form inside of my head before I ask, “Are you going to hurt my friends, West?”
“Perhaps.” He rests his back against the tree he stands next to, lifting his face to catch the sun rays. “Perhaps in the near future, someone will experience pain because of me.”
“Can I have a clear answer?” I have to pause for a moment to calm myself, and when I speak again, my voice is a little quieter. “I don’t know if I can trust you. I don’t know if I should trust you. Can you please tell me who you are?”
“West,” he answers simply.
I look away. “If all you will give me are these half-answers, I don’t know if I can work with you, West.” 
“Sophie Foster, you can trust me if you choose.” He lowers his head back forward to face in my general direction. “However, I am not here for your trust. To work with you, one needs trust. To work for you, however, I only need compliance.”
“I’m not going to use you.” I look back up at his face, studying his tawny hair and white eyes. “I just don’t know what to think. The Neverseen have done really bad things, to everyone. And if you’re with them . . .”
“Intriguing, it is, how you always return to this conclusion. I am not with the Neverseen, as I have clarified before.”
“Then . . . who are your parents?” I ask, hating myself for asking yet feeling the need for an answer at the same time.
“Neither realize that I am alive,” he replies. “The council locked me away, did they not? When one is placed in Exile, they are dead to the rest of us.”
Although his answer reassures me a little, I still feel unsease. He could be the son of any two of the Neverseen, something I don’t want to think too hard about. 
“If you truly wished to know, I would give you your answers, would I not? I am at your disposal. I am indebted to you.”
Because I freed him, I think. I don’t know how, but saying that one word allowed him a chance to escape. What if he was meant to be locked up? What if he’ll do more evil than good?
“I do not believe in evil and good, Sophie Foster. Do the evil not believe they are right? Do the good?”
“I guess,” I say, not really believing his answer. The Neverseen must see all the destruction they’ve caused. How could they believe they are in the right after all of that?
“It seems we have reached a disagreement.” he pauses. “We are straying from the topic of this conversation, are we not?” 
I frown. “We are. But . . . I know I’ve asked this before, a lot of times, actually. And I’ve gotten a lot of answers. I just want to know, should I trust you to help me with this?”
“You should indeed trust my help, whether you choose to trust myself or not.” 
“Okay.” It’s okay. You need his help, remember?
“Our time is limited. I advise you to ask what you need now, while we converse.” 
I take a deep breath. “Okay,” I repeat. “Okay. I’ll work with you. And I have a lot of questions, too many to be answered in one day. But I need to say this first: we need a plan. I’ve already rushed blindley into too many of the Neverseen’s traps.”
“As I have seen in your thoughts.” West runs his thumb over the Exilium mask he holds in his hand. “A plan we shall craft, Sophie Foster. I believe you will find my rather unique ability helpful to our common goal.”
I nod slowly. “Yes, but the Neverseen have always managed to find a way around our abilities.”
“How intriguing.” He touches his finger to his lips, as if deep in thought. “One would assume a  group as prepared as they would indeed come prepared. I would find it rather surprising, however, if one found a way to block my ability.”
“You’d be surprised,” I say. 
“As I would.” He pushes himself away from the tree. “Sophie Foster, if you wish for unsuspecting friends, I would follow myself back to the Exilium camp.”
I look up at the sky, noticing how the sun is quite a bit lower in the sky than it was when we arrived. “I didn’t realize it’s been so long.”
“Many things escape our senses.”
West puts his mask back on and yanks his hood over his head, looking once again like just another Wayward. His badge glints in the afternoon light as he holds up his leaping crystal.
“Until tomorrow,” he says as we step into the light.
And for whatever reason, I find myself feeling a little more trust towards him. As always, every thought towards him, every emotion that he’s caused, is a jumbled mess of confusion. But I know, even if it’s buried deep in my mind, that I have faith in West. I will work with him. We will stop the Neverseen.
We will.
= Ten =
The others, as West promised, did not notice that we had left. When I met up with my friends at the hill to leap back to Alluveterre, I put on my best calm act. They didn’t seem to notice the anxiety, building back up beneath my act.
What would they think if they knew about West’s parents? I constantly think this, as I talk, as I smile, as I try to laugh at Keefe’s jokes. I know how easily trust can be broken. Aren’t I breaking theirs, even if they don’t know it?
I feel like I’m being forced to choose between my friends and disanding the Neverseen. I don’t want to choose. I wish we were back in that time, before we met West, when I could choose both.
Why can’t they see that West can help? As dangerous as he may be, he knows things that we don’t. He has an ability that could leave the Neverseen powerless.
So why couldn’t they have agreed?
As I walk to my bedroom later than night, all I want to do is collapse on the huge bed. Sleep seems, much like last night, impossible, but my knees are shaking and my body is tired. After hours of stressing over my meeting with West, I’m ready to have some time to myself.
I’ve reached the stairs when a voice from behind stops me.
“Foster, hold up.”
Keefe’s words take a moment to reach my exhausted mind, and when I turn around, I see him standing only a few feet away. He looks worried.
I take a deep breath and try to relax my features, faking a smile as I ask him, “What?”
“Sophie, I want an honest answer. What’s up? You haven’t been yourself lately.” He runs a hand through his hair as he speaks, his voice concerned.
I sigh. “It’s nothing, okay? I’m sorry for worrying you.”
“Seriously. You look exhausted.” He steps a little closer. “Is there anything I can do?”
“Keefe, I . . .” I start, not really sure how to finish.
He pauses. “Why don’t you tell me what’s going on? Maybe I can help. Come on, Foster, who’s a better problem-fixer than me?”
I look down. “I’m not sure if it’s something you can fix.”
“I promise I’ll try,” he says.
I really want to tell him. I want to tell someone. I want my friends to know, to agree with me. I don’t want our team to fall apart because of something I chose.
But when I open my mouth to respond, I can’t. Part of it’s my guilt. I don’t want to face my friends with the truth right away. I need some time.
But part of it, the part that I hate to admit, is that I just feel like I’ve actually gotten somewhere with West. For once, I can imagine a future without the Neverseen. I could see us stopping them. And if I tell my friends, they won’t let me work with him any more. As childish as it is, I need to keep this to myself.
“I’m sorry, Keefe. I need to get some sleep,” I say quietly.
The hurt in his eyes is evident as I turn and walk up the stairs, leaving him alone in the common room.
= Eleven =
“Sophie Foster,” West says, leaning against the patchwork wall of his shack-like house, “if I may contribute.”
We’ve been meeting almost every day during the time we should have been in Exilium, discussing plans. Meanwhile, I’ve shoved my feelings deep inside my gut, vowing to keep them contained until all of this is over.
“Go on,” I allow, nodding my head. I’ve been thinking up a plan to confront the Neverseen, or to at least get close enough for West to take one of their abilities. Apparently, he has been listening.
“I believe a message would suffice, would it not?” he asks.
I nod again. The main problem that’s been my roadblock is how to contact them. The Neverseen, always one step ahead, wouldn’t fall for a trap as plain and simple as the ones in my head.
“But what would we say?” I wonder aloud.
“An intriguing problem indeed,” he muses. “Perhaps requesting a trade?”
“That would work,” I agree, new ideas forming in my head as my plans shift. “What should we ask for?”
“It seems the real question would be what is there to offer.”
What is there to offer? “I don’t know if I have anything,” I admit, feeling a little deflated.
“Ah, and this is where I shall come in.” 
I frown. “What are you going to offer to them?”
“I do not believe the Neverseen has an Enhancer in their possession. Shall I inform them of my enhancing, they will comply with our meeting.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, feeling a little wary at the mention of his enhancing.
“How peculiar of you to question my plan, Sophie Foster.” The corners of his mouth curve upward slightly. “A plan will only work if you believe it will.”
I sigh. “Okay. Fair enough.”
We sit in silence again as I ponder over how to get the note to the Neverseen. If West has any ideas, he doesn’t speak up, rather waits for me to come up with something.
After a little while, I say, “I don’t know how to get a message to them.”
“Curious, given that you and I both possess the abilities of a Telepath. A handwritten note is not truly necessary.”
My eyes widen. “You want to transmit to them? Don’t you think their mental blocking would be strong enough to keep us out? And what happens when they start poking around our minds?”
“I shall simply block them myself,” he says, sounding quite calm.
“West, given all that I know about them, they always have a plan. I think this is a bit dangerous.”
“One would assume.” He touches his ability badge, repeatedly tracing the hand in the middle. I watch his movements as he says, “Then again, so am I.”
I tug on my eyelash. “Fine. We can try it.”
He pauses. “How reluctant you seem. Sophie Foster, I shall keep our thoughts private during the transmission. That I can assure you.”
“Okay,” I respond, although I still feel unsease. “When should we transmit to them?”
“Perhaps tomorrow.”
“Tomorrow?”
He tilts his head to the side slightly. “Would that not work for you?”
“No, it’s not that.” I shake my head. “Aren’t we rushing into this a little too quickly? I feel like there’s something we’re missing.”
“Waiting is something you and I do not need.”
I bite my lip. “You’re right. Tomorrow, then.”
“Tomorrow,” he repeats. 
= Twelve =
The next day comes quickly, as dreaded events often seem to. I keep reminding myself that this is good. We’re getting somewhere.
But then again, there are so many things that could go wrong.
West seems to notice my distress as we leap to our meeting place. As we walk to the shack, he notes, “You are worried.”
“Yes,” I admit.
“There is no need for your anxiety.”
I pull open the door to the shack, leading West inside. We sit on the floor again, leaning up against the wall.
“You believe my abilities are not a match to theirs, do you not?” he asks.
I shake my head quickly. “No, not your abilities. The Neverseen have always found a way to stay one step ahead. I’m not sure if this . . .”
“There is only one way to know if we will succeed,” he says.
I close my eyes. Breath, Sophie, I think. It’s okay.
When I open my eyes, I hardly feel any calmer than I did, but still, I reply, “I’m ready.”
Our minds are connected now, Sophie Foster. His mental voice is as calm as his speaking one, giving away nothing about his emotions. I shall locate one of the Neverseen, he tells me.
A weird sensation builds across my thoughts, like a glass barrier is forming between myself and him. I can still feel his transmissions, but I have a feeling that my own thoughts are protected.
This is correct, he agrees. Although I can still hear your mind, I am the only one.
After a moment, I feel another consciousness, just a flicker of thought. Slowly, it grows bigger, until I hear a voice in my head.
Brant’s voice.
The sound of my pounding heart in my ears almost drowns out his words.
Who is intruding in my mind?
	West’s own voice, completely emotionless, replies, It is indeed impressive for you to detect my presence so immediately. My identity is not of importance, but I offer a proposal.
	Get out of my head, Brant thinks. Every word I hear in his voice sends a shiver down my spine, stirring the worst of my memories.
If I were to tell you my proposal, your mind would change, would it not? West transmits.
Brant’s voice hardens. What do you want?
	Compliance. In fact, I desire a meeting. In return, I shall offer my own abilities.
	I can almost hear the sneer in Brant’s words. If you think we would fall for that, you don’t know who you’re dealing with.
Ah, but this is where you are led astray. You currently do not hold an Enhancer in your possession, if I am correct.
What are you suggesting? Brant demands. I’m about to sever your connection.
	I believe you would find that rather hard, West replies smoothly. As well as a telepath, I happen to be an Enhancer.
That’s not possible.
	Yet here I am. West’s voice has a sort of charm, one that would make me believe every word he speaks, even if I didn’t know him.
It seems to work on Brant, too. You want to join us.
	That is an intriguing thought. I would prefer a meeting first, held in a private location, if you may. He plays the part perfectly.
There’s a long pause while Brant considers. Finally, he thinks, Two days from now, at Wildwood. If you cannot locate us, then you are not fit to join us.
	Curious, your offer is. I shall comply.
	West pulls his mind away from Brant’s, leaving the two of us and a half-formed plan.
= Thirteen =
Two days.
West and I are meeting with the Neverseen in just two days.
If all were to work perfectly, which it never does, the world could be freed of the Neverseen once and for all in just this short period of time.
I don’t know if I should feel good or utterly terrified. This is our chance, our plan, our course of action. But it’s flawed.
Congratulate yourself on the small things, Sophie Foster, and the rest will fall into place. 
West had spoken those words to me as we parted, his expression bearing none of the feelings that constantly bombard my mind. If he believed in our plan himself, he didn’t show it. But it definitely helps to hear from someone, from anyone, that things will turn out okay.
Which is why, even with the tangled mess of emotions inside of me, I am able to sleep that night.
Exilium camp the next day is located on a cliff. The view looks out over a forest, the ground mossy and hard at the same time.
After my friends and I depart, I walk slowly to my hemisphere, expecting West to approach me. I’m confused and surprised when he doesn’t. Where is he?
	Sophie Foster, West’s voice says in my mind, it would seem the Vanisher girl is watching you quite closely, is she not?
	I turn, scanning the crowd of the left hemisphere. Eventually, I see a hooded figure angled towards me, and look away when I recognize Biana’s badge.
Why is she watching me? I wonder.
West’s smile is evident in his mental words. It seems she believes it is peculiar, for someone such as yourself to be in this high of spirits. Has our plan excited you?
	I find myself blushing furiously, for a reason unbeknownst to me. No!
	It’s rather intriguing, your embarrassment.
	West, I think, drawing out his name as my face heats up. 
I can hear his mental chuckle. After a moment, he replies, It would seem that attending our location of secrecy is unwise today.
But we’re meeting with the Neverseen tomorrow, I protest, realizing only then how close our meeting is. I feel the nervous anticipation stir within my gut, and it takes me a moment to calm my thoughts. We need to plan this.
Has it not occurred to you that someone such as myself would never come unprepared? 
I sigh. I know, I know. But this isn’t just you. It’s both of us. I need to be prepared as well.
As it seems. Shall we discuss now, perhaps?
Right here? I ask.
Has a problem presented itself, Sophie Foster? It seems we have conversed over thought before, have we not? Is this a bother to yourself?
No, it’s fine, I assure him. 
Then discuss we shall, he replies. I believe the most useful course of action would be the theft of an ability, or perhaps multiple?
I cringe slightly, the thought of a stolen ability causing prickles through my body. Maybe? 
You feel unsease, West notes. Sophie Foster, as frightening as you may perceive this peculiar ability of mine to be, disarming the strong is the first step to overthrowing the weak.
I can agree with that, I think slowly. But isn’t it wrong to steal someone’s power like that? And isn’t there like, a limit to how many abilities you can have?
I do not believe I have a physical limit, West tells me. And do you not agree that the sole embodiment of the Neverseen is wrong?
It is. I exhale. Okay.
There’s a long pause in his thoughts before he transmits again. Finally, he thinks, I believe Brant’s Pyrokinesis is rather important to the Neverseen.
My eyes widen. West, that’s not a good idea. Pyrokinesis is . . . 
I can’t stop the flood of images that penetrate my thoughts, bringing flickers of flames to life as they lick at the lock that contains my restless emotions. West waits until I have distinguished the flames in my mind before he replies. 
I have frightened you again.
It’s not you, I tell him.
A rather curious thought. Sophie Foster, I see through the eyes of others. Often through yours, you associate myself with fear. 
Do I? 
Perhaps the nature of our thoughts remain subconscious, but nonetheless, it is true. This is why I feel it is important for me to share with you this one piece of information.
I wait for him to continue, and when he doesn’t, I think, What is it?
As an elf with many abilities yourself, you have once lost control, I would assume? he asks.
Yes, I admit, wincing as I think about my inflicting.
Apart from my ability of thievery, I possess ten separate abilities, Sophie Foster. And I can assure you, I have never lost control.
= Fourteen =
You have ten abilities?!
	The shock that explodes inside of me is evident in my thoughts. How is he so powerful? And how is he able to control that many abilities? Wouldn’t someone become unstable with that much power?
I have surprised you, West thinks calmly. One would assume.
	I draw in a breath, my thoughts spiraling. I don’t know what to think, West.
As it would seem. 
	The silence between us grows as I try to sort through my mind. West has ten abilities. Sure, he says he can control them, but wouldn’t adding something as powerful as Pyroknesis to the mix change things? I’ve seen too many fires burned by Pyroknetics. Untamable, destructive fires. Fires that bring devastation to everyone.
Each of the thief’s abilities surpass that of ours, Mr Forkle had said. If West obtained Pyrokinesis, would he become unstable?
I can’t see a friend being broken like that, I think finally.
When West responds, something in his voice is different, an emotion breaking through the mask of calm. I am intrigued how you call myself a friend.
	Are you not? I wonder quietly.
You have confused me, Sophie Foster.
	West, I think, after a moment’s pause, I trust you. And I call you my friend, whether you would say the same for me or not. Which is why I don’t want you to take Brant’s Pyrokinesis. For your safety, not mine.
	Peculiar, this is. West’s voice returns to its calm state. No one shall be harmed if I obtain this ability. I can assure you.
	Please, don’t do this.
This is why I chose yourself, Sophie Foster. When I entered your mind in exile, you not once thought about how freeing me might affect yourself. Your decision was made based on the needs of others. 
	I find myself blushing. I didn’t do anything, though.
	On the contrary, West disagrees.
My face reddens even more before I frown. West, I still don’t agree with you taking the pyrokinesis.
	We don’t have to come to an agreement to come to an understanding. I believe you realize yourself how this will tip the odds in our favor, do you not?
	I sigh. Maybe. But what if you—
	I shall be fine.
	Promise me? I think, tugging on my eyelash.
Amusement creeps into his mental voice. It’s intriguing how one finds such comfort in the reciting of a simple word. But if it helps, I shall promise.
	And are you sure you won’t lose control? I ask.
I believe I’ve already assured you of that, have I not?
	You have, I admit. After a long pause, I think, Is that our only plan, then? Rush in there and have you steal an ability? Shouldn’t we try to capture them or something?
	One cannot plan for everything, Sophie Foster. There are variables in the future that change at a pace too quickly for one to predict.
	I guess that’s true. I just keep feeling like we’re missing something.
	Perhaps we are, West responds, not helping my anxiety. 
	Then . . . we’ll see how it goes? I cringe as I think the words, hating the fact that our plan is so incomplete.
That we shall.
	And even though our plan is flawed, even though it could collapse in more ways than one, I don’t argue. Because as I’ve come to realize, I trust West, even if it’s still somewhat fragile. Somewhere inside of me, I know that West will not lead us astray.
After dinner that night, I stand at the foot of my bed, thinking about tomorrow. Although my thoughts aren’t as stress-filled as they have been, I still feel unease.
We have never been this close to stopping the Neverseen. And, as good as it feels, I have that crawling feeling in my stomach. A feeling that whispers to the dark corners of my mind that something will go horribly wrong. If there’s one thing I’ve learned, it’s that victory is not an entirely realistic concept. There will always be evil at work, even if the ones we thought were the source are locked deep in Exile.
	Eventually, I walk around to the side of my bed, reaching for the blankets as I move to climb onto the mattress.
“Sophie.”
Biana’s voice makes me jump, and I have to clamp my hand over my mouth to stop a shriek. I whirl around, watching as she materializes just a few feet away.
“Biana, you scared me,” I tell her, stepping away from my bed. “How long have you been in here?”
Her arms are crossed over her chest, her eyebrows raised. “A little while.”
And all I can think is: She knows.
My heart is a stampede of elephants, crushing everything in their path as we stare at each other. I wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear the wild thumping from where she stands.
“Sophie,” she says after a moment. “You’re hiding something from us, aren’t you?”
I look down, my face burning with shame. I want to say no, to be as smooth with my words as West is with his, but I can’t lie to Biana’s face.
“That’s what I thought.” She nods as she speaks.
“Biana . . .” my voice is quiet, but even I can’t deny the slight quaver of my words.
She sighs, uncrossing her arms. “Sophie, I know you well enough to tell when you’re lying. You’ve seemed really stressed for a while now.”
“I know,” I whisper. “I really hate hiding things from you guys. But this is really important.”
“If it’s so important, why haven’t you told us?” Biana asks, her words like a slap in the face.
“I’m sorry,” I reply, unable to meet her eyes.
She frowns. “You know, Keefe has seemed really down lately. Ever since he tried to talk to you. Keeping things from us hurts us all.”
“He has?” The guilt inside of me grows. I hadn’t noticed.
Biana lets out a breath, her voice softening. “Look, Sophie. You obviously have a lot on your mind, but I really think it would help for you to talk to us.”
“I can’t,” I say, my voice small. “I’m sorry. I can’t.”
Biana frowns. “Where is this secrecy coming from? You’re the leader, whether you like it or not. You can’t let us fall apart like this.”
“I know. I just need some time.” 
Biana opens her mouth to protest, but I cut her off before she can speak.
“Please, Biana. You have to understand.”
“I don’t know if I can,” she replies slowly.
It takes me a while to respond. “Please, can you try?”
After a moment, she turns away from me. “I can see that you’re stressed. But this isn’t okay. Whatever you’re doing, whatever you’re planning, we all want—no, we need—to be a part of it.”
“I know,” I breathe.
“Just think about it,” she says quietly before she leaves me alone in the room.
And I do. I can think of nothing but for the good majority of the night, as I toss and turn, as the guilt makes a mess of me.
Because what I am doing, I’m doing it at the expense of my friends.
West is wrong. I’m anything but selfless.
When the tears come, they don’t stop for a long time.
= Fifteen =
I awoke the next morning, a monster inside, patching up the gaps in the mask that covers my emotions with tape too weak to hold it.
I can’t speak to Biana. I can hardly eat.
And I dread, dread, dread the day to come. I am not prepared. Why did this have to happen, today of all days?
So when West approaches me at Exillium, I don’t bother hiding the state of my mind from him. He can already hear it, can’t he?
After we’ve made it unnoticed to a hidden place behind two tall trees, I find myself saying, “West, I’m exhausted.”
“As I see, Sophie Foster,” he replies, his voice bearing the steadiness I lack.
“I don’t know if—” I have to stop myself from finishing. We have to do this.
“As a prisoner for many years, I know not how to comfort,” West admits. “However, I can listen.”
“Biana . . .” I start, trailing off when guilt nearly crushes me. I know it’s not good to feel this much guilt. I know that it can break an elf’s mind. But no matter what I think, no matter what I do, it remains.
“I have heard,” he tells me.
I look down, then cross my arms over my chest. “I’m being selfish again. There is something much more important that we need to be doing.”
“It would appear there is,” he agrees. “But one is unable to properly function when distracted.”
“I know. I’ll stop thinking about it.” How I wish it were that easy. If I could pause the endless train of thoughts constantly flooding my mind, I would have gotten sleep last night. But my thoughts are like ink, staining everything they touch a dark color.
“Is that what I advised, Sophie Foster?” 
I look up slowly. “I don’t know.”
His eyes, as always, are not quite focused on me. But I imagine he’s staring me in the eye as he says, “Biana Vacker, and the rest, for that matter, are forgiving.”
“I don’t think they can forgive this, West.”
“I have told you otherwise, have I not? For one who hears their thoughts, I can assure you,” he says firmly.
“But—”
I am cut off as he lifts his hand, finding my temple with his index and middle fingers after a moment. 
Thoughts flood my head almost instantly, a constant chatter of noise. But the loudest one, the one that’s focused, is Biana’s.
It’s hard to describe the sound of thoughts when one isn’t thinking in words. They’re like pictures, although you can’t see them. It’s as if you’re listening to a melody; only the tone of the piece is what you can understand. And in this melody of thoughts, I can make out a few emotions.
She seems sad.
And worried.
And there’s a little bit of something else, something I can’t identify.
As West pulls his hand back, cutting off the noise, I bite my lip. This is what I did to her. To all of them. Just by keeping these secrets.
“What you are missing is not what she is feeling, rather, what she is not.”
I look up, frowning slightly.
“There was an absence of anger in her thoughts, was there not?” West asks.
“Maybe?”
He touches my telepath badge before returning his hand to his side. “For one as advanced as yourself, you tend to miss the things that matter the most, Sophie Foster.”
I just stare at him, feeling some of my guilt being replaced with confusion.
“Biana Vacker will forgive your secrecy.”
“Are you sure?” I ask, feeling a little childish.
“This, I can, as you like to hear, promise.” 
He removes another pale yellow leaping crystal from his Exillium uniform, offering it to me. I take it in my hand, feeling even more confusion.
“I am offering you this, as it is you who will lead myself, Sophie Foster. We shall only attend this meeting if you feel you are ready.”
I stare at the crystal in my hand. “And you said you couldn’t comfort people.”
“I cannot. I merely recite what is true.”
As I hold the crystal to the light, I can still feel the guilt inside of me. It’s not gone, and it won’t be until this is long over.
But on top of the guilt, there is reassurance.
Everything will be fine, I tell myself, as I step into the light beam.
= Sixteen =
We emerge from our light leap somewhere deep in a forest. The small sun rays that peak through the gaps in the foliage make patterns that look vaguely like shards of glass, scattered on the ground in a way much similar to the pieces of a broken window. Flowers grow in the patches of light and ivy spirals up wooden tree trunks. The forest seems alive. 
This place is too beautiful for an event like this.
West tips his head to the side, as if listening. After a moment, he speaks a few words.
“The presence of your mind does not escape my senses,” West says calmly.
Goosebumps rise on my skin as three cloaked figures emerge from the shadows, white eyes stitched onto their sleeves. West and I wear hoods and masks ourselves, concealed from the gaze of the three Neverseen members, but I still feel like they can see through our disguise. Just the sight of the Neverseen has me breaking into a nervous sweat.
“You have found us,” the first figure notes, whose voice I recognize. I have to plant my feet firmly in the ground to stop myself from taking a step backward from Brant. Although his scarred face is hidden, I can imagine the evil glint in his eyes.
“It would appear so, would it not?” West responds, still sounding completely casual. 
Brant’s head turns towards me. I hope he can’t hear the catch in my breath as he asks, “And why is there another?”
“You seem to have accompaniment yourself. The terms of our meeting did not include attending alone, if I am not mistaken.”
I can hear Brant’s clenched teeth as he replies, “They did not.”
“Shall we discuss, then?” West suggests.
Brant doesn’t answer. After a few moments, he makes a quick gesture with his hand, something fast enough to be missed. But I am fully aware of the cloaked figure to his right as they snap their fingers, illuminating a glowing forcefield around West and I.
“It seems you’ve come to rely on your psionipath tricks,” West remarks, his hand touching the force field. He isn’t repelled by the glowing matter, but he doesn’t seem to be able to break through it, either.
“You see, I am not fully sure you can be trusted,” Brant says.
We’re trapped, I think, staring up at the glowing dome. We’ve fallen into their plans once again.
“One shows cowardice when putting them and the opposed on uneven ground.” West runs his hand down the force field. “I suppose it can’t be helped, given your fear of my abilities.”
“You are the one who should be scared,” Brant retorts. “And what I wonder is why your mysterious company has not spoken once.”
“And neither have yours.”
Brant’s tone hardens. “Don’t try to play games with me.”
“That I have not attempted.” West holds out his hand, as if displaying something invisible. “I believe I made an offer when we first conversed, did I not?”
“I am trying to evaluate if you were lying.”
“And this is why you have trapped us?” West smiles from beneath his hood. “How intriguing your motives are.”
Brant’s hands curl into fists. “You say you are an Enhancer.”
“As I am.”
“Or so you claim. I’ll have you in there until you’ve convinced me,” he sneers.
West’s amused smile grows. “It would seem, being an Enhancer, the only way to prove my ability would be to enhance you.”
West, don’t, I think, my eyes widening. Brant’s already unstable as it is.
	West doesn’t respond to my thoughts, making me worry even more.
Brant’s voice is a low hiss. “Is this some sort of trick?”
“I assume you would be prepared for that, would you not?” West counters.
“Fine,” Brant says after a long pause. I can tell West’s even tone gets under his skin.
The Psionipath snaps his fingers again, removing the force field around us. He encaptures me alone in a new one almost as quickly, separating West and I.
My heart pounds as I watch West walk towards Brant, feeling useless from behind the illuminated barrier. I want to yell out to him, to warn him not to get close to the Neverseen members.
But I keep my mouth shut as he closes the gap between Brant and himself, extending his hand.
“If I may,” he says.
Brant seems to stare at his outstretched hand for a few moments before he removes his glove and reaches out his own. After hesitating briefly, he grabs West’s hand.
I half expect Brant’s hand to start smoking, or West to scream, or one of them to collapse.
But nothing happens.
Absolutely nothing.
From what I can see behind my glowing prison, West hasn’t even enhanced him.
Brant seems to notice it as well, for he yanks his hand away, his voice infuriated as he speaks. “You were lying. It is evident enough that you aren’t an Enhancer by simply evaluating you.”
He raises his hand, opening his fingers wide to summon flames.
No flames appear, leaving his fingers touching empty air.
And West, who stands perfectly still before him, says, “I think you will find that rather hard.”
Only a short moment passes before Brant lunges at West, hands outstretched and fingers curved like claws.
= Seventeen =
“West!” I shout, fear shooting through my veins. I clamp my hand over my mouth immediately, realizing my mistake.
West sidesteps Brant’s attack, escaping by a margin too close for comfort.
Brant’s head snaps up in my direction, his hood fallen back to reveal his mangled face. I can see the recognition in his eyes at the sound of my voice.
He doesn’t comment, though, instead whirls back to face West, his voice as horrifying as his features. “What did you do to me?”
West says nothing, making Brant’s breathing intensify as his anger grows.
I watch in horror as another of the cloaked figures comes up behind West, posing a sneak attack. It’s only then that I realize.
West can’t see them.
And even though we’re separated by a force field, one that is meant to block abilities, I focus my mental energy on forming images in my mind of the scene in front of me. 
For a quick moment, West’s head turns in my general direction, before he dodges the second cloaked figure.
I can be his eyes, I realize, making my thoughts a little louder.
Brant turns on West again, grinding his teeth together. “Tell me, thief. I won’t ask a third time. What did you do to my ability?”
	West smiles slightly, dodging again as Brant attempts to attack him a second time. “You will no longer find it at your use.”
The Psionipath holds his hand up, as if preparing to create another force field. I send this image to West, who says almost immediately, “If you were to trap me, Psionipath, I would be protected, would I not?”
“Don’t,” Brant warns the Psionipath, who lowers his hand. “This boy is mine.”
When Brant lunges forwards again, West holds up his own hand, a single flame illuminating on his palm. I watch it dance, wariness creeping into my thoughts.
Brant’s eyes widen as he stares at the flame. “That is mine.”
“Perhaps at a time it was,” West says, taking a step towards Brant. “I suggest you do as I say, unless you wish to gain more scars.”
“Doubtful. Fire can’t harm me.” Brant’s voice is sure, his grin evil.
West takes another step forwards, holding the fire under Brant’s chin. I watch in horror as Brant’s scarred face twists into a grimace, his eyes widening in pain as he stumbles backwards.
As he grabs at his jaw, the fury in his eyes is as bright as the flame upon West’s palm.
“Release Sophie Foster,” West instructs.	
Brant grits his teeth, slicing his hand through the air. After a moment, the Psionipath lowers the force field surrounding me.
Brant holds up a crystal, creating a single beam of light. I stumble forwards as the others do the same.
“No! We can’t let them leave!” I shout, but they’re already glittering away.
As I dash towards West, his legs buckle and he slides to his knees, clutching one hand in the other. His face is set in a grimace, his eyebrows knit together. 
My eyes widen as I stare at his fingers. Bright, vein-like lines run down from his fingertips, coloring his palm and disappearing under his shirt sleeve.
He closes his hand into a fist, his head snapping up as his blind eyes stare in my general direction. He snaps his fingers, and gloves materialize on both of his hands.
“West, what . . .” I trail off, unsure of how to continue.
He wipes sweat from his forehead, standing up. After a moment, he looks just as he normally does, all of his pain gone. Or possibly just well hidden.
But I know what I saw, and I won’t forget the marks on his hand. Was that from taking the Pyrokinesis? But I thought stealing abilities didn’t take a toll on his body.
“They do not, Sophie Foster.” He flexes his gloves hand, as if getting a feel for the material. “I can assure you, this was merely a glitch. There’s no need for your anxiety.”
I force myself to nod, but I still feel worry. A glitch? I do not like the sound of that.
“Rest assured, I will be fine.”
He speaks those words, calm and easy, before he slumps forwards.
“West!” I grab his shoulders, stopping him from hitting the ground. His body is warm. Too warm to be normal.
When he doesn’t respond, I feel my mess of feelings growing, driving me to pull out my leaping crystal, to wrap my consciousness around West’s as I drag him into the light.
We emerge from the beam surrounded by the lavish walls of Alluveterre. West’s weight has me pinned to the floor, his unconscious expression far from peaceful.
Tears sting my eyes as my heart races. I did this. I made him do this. This is my fault.
	“Sophie?”
I turn towards the source, seeing Keefe staring at me with confusion and worry in his own eyes. 
“Where were you? You didn’t come back from Exillium, and . . .” he trails off, noticing my tears and guilt-ridden expression.
Then he looks down at West.
“What’s going on?” he asks quietly.
Category:Fanfiction
Category:KOTLC