“Great—so it’s another dead end,” Keefe said, looking like he wanted to punch something.
Sophie heard him mumble under his breath, “He was right in front of them.”
She wished she could make him understand how much she’d wanted to learn something about his mom. Instead, she joined Fitz and Biana, who had gathered around Dex, studying the list of eight Exillium Psionipaths. None of the names looked familiar, and they were all banished for some variation of the same reason: proven unstable and unfit for society. But surely there had to be something that would clue them in to which one was him.
“That does not look like an approved assignment,” Mr. Forkle said, stomping into the room.
Sophie was too happy he was still alive—and safe—to care about his grumbling.
The rest of the Collective filed in behind him, all equally unharmed.
Her joy evaporated when Mr. Forkle said, “All of Brackendale is an inferno of Everblaze. The Neverseen must’ve torched the area after you left.”
“Do you think the tree will survive in its force field?” Sophie asked.
“I suspect it was already gone,” Calla said. “I searched underground most carefully and couldn’t find a single root.”
“So that’s it?” Fitz asked.
“For the moment,” Mr. Forkle said, collapsing into one of the empty beanbag boulders. “We’ll find a way to alert the Council so they can extinguish the Everblaze.”
A loud THUMP! turned everyone’s heads, and they spotted Keefe shaking his fist.
“We echo your frustrations, Mr. Sencen,” Mr. Forkle said. “But punching walls is not the answer. Remember, Miss Foster has a photographic memory.” He turned to Sophie. “I’m going to need to see all of your memories of the tree.”
Sophie nodded, proud of herself for not fidgeting as he poked around her mind. She tried to feel his presence, but his telepathy was completely undetectable.
“The tree was healthy?” he asked after several seconds.
“I thought that was strange too,” Sophie said. “I’d figured it was incubating the plague under the force field, but if that were true, the branches or leaves would’ve looked sickly, right?”
“One would assume,” Mr. Forkle said.
“So maybe they were incubating something else.” Granite glanced at the other members of the Collective before adding, “It’s possible the Neverseen could be working on a cure.”
“That almost makes sense,” Mr. Forkle admitted. “If they develop a cure before the Council, they could use it as leverage, much the same as if they’d managed to capture the alicorns in their previous attempts.”
“But how can a tree be the cure?” Dex asked.
“It could be a test subject,” Blur suggested.
“Or it could be a Panakes,” Calla breathed.
For a second Sophie thought Calla had said “Pancakes” and found herself picturing a tree made of fluffy griddle cakes drizzled with syrup and butter.
“What’s a Panakes?” she asked.
“Nothing more than legend,” Squall said.
“That is what many believe,” Calla agreed. “But I’ve never been convinced either way. There are so many songs, all telling the same story of the Brave Ones—the Trees of Healing that grew along the shores of the Eventide River during our years in Serenvale. Some say the trees were lost when the river ran dry and we were forced to flee our homeland. Others claim they never existed beyond the stories. And still others claim the Panakes thrive today, imprisoned behind the gates of Ravagog.”
“The last myth has never been confirmed by any who’ve visited the city,” Mr. Forkle reminded her.
“Yes, but hasn’t their access been severely limited?” Calla asked. “I’m not a fool. I know the possibilities are slim. But until I have proof either way, I will not completely abandon my hope.”
“Do you know what the Panakes look like?” Sophie asked.
“Only my imaginings,” Calla said.
“Well,” Mr. Forkle said, shattering the silence that followed. “These are all certainly things we must investigate. But first, we have bigger issues.”
He rose from his beanbag—which required quite a lot of thrashing and flailing—and moved to stand over Calla. “You acted without orders.”
“I did,” Calla agreed. “But I will not apologize.”
Sophie wasn’t sure if she wanted to give Calla a high five or hide her from the furious Collective.
Calla, meanwhile, remained remarkably calm. “Have you ever wondered why moonlarks do not bring their hatchlings back to their nests?”
“What does that have to do with anything?” Wraith asked.