Nightfall

by Shannon Messenger

  Vespera nodded. “I suppose I can respect that. Very well. Consider me your reluctant new ally.”

  “Uh, do you really think we’re letting either of you walk away from here?” Sophie asked.

  “Yes,” Lady Gisela said. “Because there’s another reason I recruited a Psionipath.”

  White light flashed again, and Ruy shouted something Sophie couldn’t hear over the screams as he raised his arms and pulled them back down in a strange twisting motion.

  Thunder boomed, shaking the city hard enough to crack some of the crystal towers, sending shards raining down on the fleeing crowd. All of Ruy’s force fields vanished as he stretched out his arms again, sending bolts of lightning blasting into the dome.

  Linh shrieked and stumbled backward as darkness poured into the city through a jagged, inky splotch. It took Sophie a second to realize the falling streaks weren’t made of shadows.

  The air turned thick, filled with a strange salty wetness that shifted from mist to full-fledged rain.

  Emergency sirens blared, matching the wails of panic as people poured from the buildings to stare at the sky in horror.

  Because Atlantis’s force field had been breached.

  Eighty-five

  YOU NOW HAVE two choices,” Lady Gisela shouted over the roar of the rain, which was falling hard enough to rock the buildings. All around them people were splashing through the flooding streets, following a trail of glowing blue flares that seemed to be guiding them toward an evacuation point that looked much too far away.

  Keefe lunged for his mom and she pointed her weapon at his chest.

  “Don’t tempt me, Keefe. Same goes for you, Sophie. Keep your inflicting under control, or count on losing a friend.” Lady Gisela shifted her aim from Keefe to Tam, then to Linh—who was trying to keep the rising water away from Ro—then back to Keefe. “Now that everyone’s listening, you should know that the princess is still dying. The remedy I gave you isn’t enough to save her—did you really think I’d make it that easy?”

  Nausea poured through Sophie, faster and colder than the rain. “What do you want?”

  “I want to see that you’re capable of making the right decision. So I’ll make this simple.” She used her free hand to pull a vial of Candesia’s pale light from her cloak, along with a small crystal that looked like it had been shattered and glued back together. “You can take this light and this crystal and use both to bring Ro to Foxfire.”

  She squeezed both so tightly that there was no way to grab either with telekinesis—and Ruy looked ready to form another force field the second Linh tried anything with water.

  “Hopefully you’ll make it to the Healing Center in time for Elwin to melt off any skin that was exposed to the soporidine,” Lady Gisela added.

  “And let me guess—you’ll only give those to us if we let you go?” Keefe asked.

  “Do you really think I need your help to escape? Trust me, Keefe, the second Ruy, Vespera, and I decide to leave—we will. This isn’t a bargain. It’s a test. To see if you’re beginning to understand the losses and gains we’re going to face in the times ahead. Which is why your other option is to stay. Ignore my help. Do what you always do—try to have it all, try to be the hero—and fail. You may even drown, depending on how long it takes for you to accept that there’s nothing you can do to stop this—even with your Hydrokinetic friend. And by then, it will be too late for the princess.”

  She pointed above them, to where the hole Ruy had punched through the force field was already twice as wide as it started. Then to Linh, who was leaning on Tam, veins bulging in her forehead as she strained to keep the water away from Ro. She finished by pointing to the rising water, which was now past their ankles—and the canals were already spilling over their banks.

  “You’re destroying an entire city—to test us,” Keefe said.

  Each word had shockingly little bite. And there was no fury in his voice. No rage.

  Only bleak resignation, as if Keefe had stared into the monster’s eyes and realized it was far too wicked to face.

  “We should’ve let go of this city long ago,” Lady Gisela told him. “Atlantis is our past—not our future—and the more we cling to it, the more impossible it is for us to move forward.”

  “It’s also filled with thousands of innocent people,” Sophie snapped.

  Including her sister. And Quinlin and Livvy. And Biana, Fitz, and Dex. Maybe even Grady and Marella.

  Each new name felt colder than the freezing water crashing around them.

  “Yes, and the strongest and smartest of them will manage to evacuate,” Lady Gisela told her. “The rest aren’t worth saving. And let’s also not forget that many, many more will be in danger if King Dimitar declares war—which he absolutely would do if he found out you had a chance to spare his only daughter and ignored it. The right choice sometimes isn’t easy, Sophie. But that doesn’t mean it’s not right. I need you to show me you understand that.”

  Sophie closed her eyes, trying to think past the pounding in her brain.

  Maybe they couldn’t save the city from flooding. But Linh could still clear paths through the water to give everyone time to evacuate—especially if she let Sophie enhance her. They might even be able to buy enough time for the Council to send a Psionipath to repair the breach. Someone must have already hailed them and explained what was happening.

  And maybe the Panakes blossom she’d given Ro would help the ogre princess hold on long enough for them to clear the city before they leaped her to safety. Already most of the black veining was gone, and her breathing looked slow and steady, as if Ro was simply sleeping.

  Besides, for all they knew, the crystal Lady Gisela was offering wouldn’t even take them where she claimed.

  “Time’s almost up, Sophie,” Lady Gisela warned. “Thirty seconds.”

  “You show more ruthlessness than I expected,” Vespera told Lady Gisela. “But you are giving her the wrong options. A real test would be to see if the moonlark takes her chance to capture us.”

  “She doesn’t need to sink to that level to be useful,” Lady Gisela argued.

  “Is that what you tell yourself?” Vespera asked. “How you justify the slight shake in your hand whenever you point that weapon toward your son? Would you be willing to pull the trigger if they forced your hand?”

  “My son is important,” Lady Gisela argued.

  “He is not. You need to see that. Otherwise, you’re just as useless as him.”

  Keefe glared at his mom. “Sounds like your creepy new alliance is off to a great start.”

  “She will learn,” Vespera told him. “Look how far she has already come. But you will not do the same. And neither will she.” She turned to Sophie. “You could have stopped this flood before it happened if you had been willing to sacrifice yourself—or your friends. It is not your fault. You were made that way. But you will always make the wrong choices.”

  “WHO CARES?” Keefe screamed, tearing his hands through his hair. “WHO CARES ABOUT CHOICES?”

  “Our choices define us,” Vespera informed him.

  “Wrong,” Keefe argued. “Choice is only a tiny part of it. You’re an Empath—you’re supposed to know that.”

  He reached for Sophie’s hand. “Don’t let them get into your head. You know what we need to do.”

  “And what is that?” Lady Gisela asked.

  Sophie watched the waves in the flooded canal wash away a chunk of a nearby bridge, then turned to her friends—and she didn’t need to read their thoughts to know what they were trying to say.

  “We’re staying here,” she decided. “Until everyone is safe.”

  “And you’re staying with us,” Linh added, sending a wave crashing toward Gisela. But before the water hit, Keefe’s mom grabbed Vespera and Ruy and the three of them leaped away.

  The last thing Sophie saw was Vespera’s cold smile—a promise of all the havoc she planned to wreak with her freedom.

  “Still the right choice
,” Linh said, reaching for Sophie’s hand.

  “I don’t have my gloves on,” Sophie warned. “Can you handle being enhanced?”

  Linh nodded, her eyes shifting to the breach in the force field, which was still growing wider by the second. “I think it’s time to see what the water and I can truly do.”

  “I guess it’s not like we have to worry about you flooding the place,” Tam added.

  “Here,” Keefe said, offering a hand to both Sophie and Linh. “I can make sure you guys stay calm and don’t lose focus.”

  “And I’ll get Ro to higher ground,” Tam told them, using telekinesis to float the ogre princess safely out of the rising water.

  Everyone nodded, each of them taking a long breath as the plan settled.

  “Ready?” Keefe asked.

  “Ready,” Sophie and Linh said.

  Together, the three friends reached for one another’s hands, forming a small, brave circle—that trembled slightly as their palms connected.

  Linh gasped at the heat that shot between her and Sophie.

  “You okay?” Tam called to her.

  “Better than okay,” Linh promised, a dreamy smile stretching across her face. “I was wrong to fear this. The water doesn’t get to command me anymore. Only I command it. And I think I can save the city.”

  Eighty-six

  ARE WE SUPPOSED to be levitating?” Keefe shouted as Linh propelled him and Sophie out of the rising floodwaters, leaving their feet dangling above the churning waves.

  “I need to get closer to the breach,” Linh explained. “But first . . .”

  The rain halted around them, forming a strange pocket of silence as all the water that had been drenching their skin and clothes separated into tiny drops and drifted toward Linh. They hovered like stars for a second, then merged into a clear, swirling orb, leaving the three of them warm and dry again. Keefe’s hair even bounced back to its tousled style, and Linh’s silver-tipped strands drifted gracefully around her face.

  Sophie couldn’t decide if it was the glint in Linh’s silver-blue eyes, or the determination etched across her brow, but as she studied her friend, she didn’t have the slightest doubt that Linh truly would find a way to save the city. And the more her hope swelled, the more the energy crackled between their clasped hands—a pulse now living and breathing between them.

  “So what’s the plan?” she asked when Linh called a stream of gurgling droplets up through the center of their circled arms, adding it to the watery orb she’d made.

  The glassy, rippling sphere grew bigger and bigger and bigger with each bubble she added, until it hovered over them like a watery moon.

  “I’m going to plug the hole,” Linh said simply. “Until the Psionipaths get here.”

  Keefe’s eyebrows shot up. “Will that really hold back the ocean?”

  “It will if I tell it to.”

  Linh added more water to the orb, tightening her grip on Sophie’s hand with each addition. Tingles crept up Sophie’s arm and spread down her torso, until her whole body hummed with buzzing energy.

  “You okay, Foster?” Keefe asked, sending her mind a steadying blue breeze. “You look a little freaked.”

  “I’m fine. I just . . .” She swallowed. “I can feel the pull of the water now. I don’t know why. But it’s like it’s crawling into my veins, digging into every cell—taking over everything. Is that how you always feel, Linh?”

  Linh nodded. “It’s incredible. And overwhelming.”

  “Yeah,” Sophie mumbled, staring at the water rising toward her boots. Each ripple seemed to speak its own language, begging for her attention—and she wanted to listen, wanted to pull every drop closer, wrap them around her.

  “Easy now,” Keefe said, his lips curling with a faint grin as he sent another mental breeze. “We’re supposed to be stopping the downpour, not adding to it—though it’d be fun to call you the Foster of Many Floods.”

  “I need to take us up now,” Linh warned, erasing their smiles. She kicked her legs and raised their arms, launching them toward the breach so fast their ears popped and the city blurred to a silver streak.

  “I think I left my stomach back there,” Keefe groaned when they finally halted.

  Sophie nodded, fighting off a shiver. “I never realized the dome was this high.”

  She tried not to look down at the gleaming spires that were far, far below—tried to focus on the dark rain roaring all around them, even as Linh kept them dry and safe, parting the waterfalls like curtains.

  “You’re starting to feel drained,” Keefe warned Linh when her hands began shaking. “I’m going to try something.”

  Linh let out a squeak. “Oh wow—that’s . . . that’s like a summer breeze inside my head.”

  “Is it helping?” Keefe asked.

  “It’s amazing.” A blissful peace settled into her features—but it faded when she studied the damage Ruy had caused. The shadowy tear in the energy field had now stretched halfway across the city, and churning water poured through every inch, so relentless and powerful that it was battering the buildings.

  “Can you really hold all of that back?” Keefe asked.

  Linh’s jaw set. “I have to.”

  “I’ll help any way I can,” Sophie promised, twining their fingers together and sending a fresh rush of tingly heat through her skin.

  “Same,” Keefe promised. “Whatever it takes.”

  This wasn’t just about saving Atlantis. Or the innocent lives at stake.

  They needed to prove to Gisela that she’d underestimated them. And that they would never let her win.

  “Okay,” Linh said, taking a deep breath. “Here goes nothing.”

  She shoved the watery orb into the center of the tear, making it swallow up the downpour—but the sphere strained as it expanded, and Sophie could feel the rippling bubble wanting to burst. Linh refused to let it, and a loud grunt slipped from her lips as Linh twisted the form to her command, molding and stretching it to match the shape of the breach, until every drop of the cold, salty water was sealed away, leaving them floating in a cloud of salty mist.

  Silence followed.

  Then the city erupted with cheers and whistles and chants that might’ve been their names. It was hard to tell—hard to think with the way the ocean was slamming against Linh’s rippling barrier, determined to break through again.

  Linh closed her eyes, sweat trickling down her face as she fought back the water’s furious currents. Her grip on Sophie’s hand was so brutal, her bones ached.

  Sophie gritted her teeth through the pain, channeling every drop of her mental energy to her hands and letting Linh take it all as Keefe sent a deep green breeze through her mind that somehow helped dull the strain.

  “Hold on,” Sophie whispered, closing her eyes as the water turned heavier and heavier.

  It became their group chant: “Hold on. Hold on. Hold on.”

  And they did.

  Together.

  Minute by minute.

  Breath by breath.

  Until there was nothing but the ringing in Sophie’s ears and the tingle in her hands, and the pressure in her head.

  But a low rumble like thunder dragged her out of her daze, and her vision focused as white lightning flickered across the dome.

  “The Psionipaths must be here,” Linh whispered, tears streaming down her pale face.

  The three weary friends stared in awe as the torn edges of the breach slowly knitted back together. And when the last stitch was in place, the entire dome glowed like morning sunlight.

  Cheers erupted again, and Sophie’s cheeks turned wet with her own tears as the crowd’s roar turned to a command.

  “Come down!”

  She decided they were her new favorite words, and Linh and Keefe looked just as relieved, clinging to each other as the world smudged and blurred and they drifted down, down, down toward the city streets.

  Sophie could feel her consciousness draining away—feel her mind reaching for t
hat dreamless oblivion—but she managed to dredge up a final burst of strength to slow their descent until she felt the thud of stone against her feet.

  Strong arms saved her from collapse, and a voice that sounded familiar—but she couldn’t place it—whispered in her ear.

  “Atlantis is safe now, Sophie.”

  She let the words echo in her mind as she surrendered to her weariness, letting the sleepy darkness carry her away.

  Eighty-seven

  SOPHIE WOKE UP in her bedroom in Havenfield, with no memory of how she’d gotten there, or who’d helped her into pajamas and slipped silky gloves onto her hands. But warm arms were wrapped around her, and when she rolled over . . .

  “Edaline?”

  Her adoptive mother gave her a relieved smile.

  Grady wasn’t there.

  Neither was Sandor.

  “It’s okay,” Edaline promised, tightening her hug to stop Sophie from bolting out of bed. “They’re safe. Everyone’s safe.”

  “Everyone?” Sophie asked as Edaline’s soft fingers trailed up and down her back. “Even . . . Ro?”

  She barely managed to choke out the name—too terrified she was going to learn that she’d overestimated the Panakes blossom’s healing power.

  But Edaline nodded, and Sophie felt tears leak down her cheeks.

  She sent a silent thank-you to Calla’s tree for keeping Ro safe, vowing to make a batch of starkflower stew as soon as she had a chance and pour it into the ground, right near the roots.

  “Ro’s currently enduring a week of bed rest—and not happy about it,” Edaline added, still rubbing Sophie’s back. “But Elwin expects her to make a full recovery. And King Dimitar has issued death orders for Gisela and Vespera, but thankfully he didn’t hold the attack against anyone else. In fact, he agreed to allow Ro to remain as Keefe’s bodyguard once she recovers. I guess she’s particularly looking forward to watching Keefe dance around in a yeti costume at the Opening Ceremonies.”

  Sophie had to smile at that, even if internally she was cringing at the reminder of the humiliating Foxfire tradition she’d also be forced to participate in.