Everblaze by Shannon Messenger
It was still overwhelming. But not so . . . calculated.
During Fintan’s memory break, his mind had been a raging river, flooding too fast for her to make sense of most of what she saw. But the maze was slow and deliberate, as if Fintan—however conscious he was—was specifically choosing what he would and wouldn’t let them see. He was stalling them, buying himself time, and Sophie didn’t want to be there when he was finally ready to face them.
Do you think Everblaze would help? Fitz asked.
Why would I want to . . . her transmission stopped when she realized Fitz meant their code word.
I don’t think it would. A brain push needed to have a reason or a direction.
But the thought did give her another idea. . . .
I’m going to try something I never made up a code word for, she transmitted.
Great—because that’s not terrifying.
Sorry.
She’d totally overlooked her inflicting ability when they made up their list, and she was starting to think emotion might be the key.
Every memory would be linked to both thoughts and feelings. So if she could inflict the right emotion into Fintan’s mind, it might lead them to all the related memories attached to the same emotion.
She had no idea if that was actually possible. But it was the only plan she could think of.
She replayed the partial memory she recovered the last time, focusing on the way Fintan had looked as he watched his unknown, unregistered prodigy call down Everblaze from the sky. His lips were curled with a smile—but not a happy smile.
A proud smile.
You ready? she transmitted to Fitz.
I guess. Let’s hope this turns out to be Alden.
She was thinking the same thing—though she felt many reasons to worry.
Still, she focused on the day she’d found out she’d passed all her Level Two midterms, after struggling so hard with some of the tests. A warm rush of pride blossomed inside her head, and she coddled it, nurtured it, fed it bits of other proud moments until she’d built up enough force to blast it out of her mind.
What on earth is that? Fitz asked as the warmth rushed past them, swirling through the maze of images and turning down a new path.
Sophie chased the warm trail, weaving and dipping and climbing and dropping until they reached a row of images that seemed almost connected.
A younger, kinder Fintan bowed and accepted his Councillor’s crown.
A somewhat older, more serious Fintan stopped the firestorm of an erupting volcano and saved a large family of apatosaurs.
A mishmash of smiling people he’d helped—both human and elvin.
Glimpses of places he’d visited and struggles he’d braved.
He used to be a good person, Sophie thought quietly.
But this was all before pyrokinesis was banned, Fitz reminded her.
He was right. In fact, most of the scenes looked ancient—and many of them involved fire. But there was a distinct lack of glowing neon yellow.
Do you see any Everblaze? Sophie transmitted, wondering if her eyes were missing something.
Everblaze Everblaze? Or code word Everblaze? Fitz asked.
Everblaze Everblaze, Sophie clarified, wishing she’d picked a less confusing code word. I don’t see any in these memories, do you?
No, he thought after a second. Is that bad?
It just doesn’t make sense. The way Fintan had talked about Everblaze when she’d met him—it was like he’d been talking about his deepest love. His greatest creation.
But his creation had killed five of his friends and gotten his ability banned . . .
I think we’re looking in the wrong place.
Maybe she’d gotten mushy after seeing all the good things Fintan had done. But she couldn’t help wondering if the memory they needed was tucked away with Fintan’s regrets.
Sophie tried to remember moments when she’d felt the right kind of shame. She’d tripped or fallen or humiliated herself thousands of different ways—and of course there were her numerous medical disasters. The Great Cape Destruction had also been pretty epic.
But none of those carried the kind of regret and remorse like the time she’d cheated on her alchemy midterm.
She drew on her shame and sadness—mixed with a dash of guilt and embarrassment—and let it stew and simmer until she felt like she was back in Dame Alina’s office, facing the consequences of her actions. The feeling was equal parts hot and cold and Sophie let herself drown in it, until the force was strong enough to blast out of her mind.
She raced through the trail it blazed, spiraling down and down and down some more, until the light was gone and all that was left was her, and Fitz, and a wall of fragmented memories—many blazing with unstoppable flames.
You’ll never find what you’re looking for, Fintan’s mind shouted. But Sophie knew he was too late.
Mallowmelt, she told Fitz, using the code word to stop him from retreating away.
She’d definitely found something good. In fact, she’d found the exact memory they needed.
Please, please, please, Sophie thought as she watched the familiar scene replay.
The memory started earlier this time, and she stared through Fintan’s eyes as he stood behind an elf in long red robes and pointed up to the night sky—to one star that seemed to burn brighter than the others.
Turn around, Sophie begged as the elf murmured something to the stars.
She couldn’t understand the words.
But she knew that voice.
The hollow, empty tone had been etched into her brain the day her kidnapper had dragged her out of her drugged haze and burned her wrists for not answering his questions.
This was it. The clue she’d been waiting for.
All she needed was for him to turn around and show his face.
Turn around. Turn around. Turn around.
The figure stretched his palm toward the sky, curling his fingers, still whispering something Sophie couldn’t understand.
Turnaroundturnaroundturnaround.
Instead, the memory sputtered to a halt, like Fintan had just hit pause.
No you don’t, Sophie transmitted, focusing harder, trying to push through whatever barrier Fintan had just made.
His mind fought back, and no matter how many times she lunged for the memory, Fintan kept shoving her away.
Everblaze, Sophie warned Fitz, concentrating on the humming energy in the back of her mind and blasting it at the guarded memory.
The brain push broke through, whirling the scene back to life—but it was blurry now. She could barely make out pale skin and dark hair—not enough to identify him. But hopefully another brain push would clear away the rest of the fog.
The memory sped up as Sophie tried to focus on the energy left in her head, and by the time she called Everblaze again, the scene had skipped to the moment the neon yellow flames erupted, burning wilder than the last time she’d watched the memory.
Not just a ball of flame.
An inferno.
And so we begin, Fintan told her as she pushed at the memory from every side, trying to catch a different view of her kidnapper’s face through the smoke.
Everblaze, Fitz transmitted.
But Sophie had nothing left to give. Her mind was too drained, and she could barely think through the heat and the blinding flames that seemed to be consuming the memory from the outside in.
His identity dies with me, Fintan told her.
Everblaze! Everblaze! EVERBLAZE! Fitz screamed.
It was only when he added VERMINION!!! to the mix that she realized he might not be using the code.
She pulled her mind free, dragging Fitz in her wake, and opened her eyes to the nightmare he’d been trying to save her from. Bright yellow sparks rained from the ceiling, merging with the flames that were no longer just in her mind.
An unstoppable wall of Everblaze.
THIRTY-FIVE
THE FLAMES ARE REAL.
&n
The jeweled floor cracked beneath their feet and Sophie pulled her hood over her head, trying to shield her skin from the heat as much as possible. “Where’s everyone else?” she managed to shout between coughs from the thick smoke.
Oralie pointed a trembling arm toward the raging Everblaze.
“No!” Fitz screamed. “No! No! NO!”
He ran toward the flames and Sophie barely managed to grab his arm in time.
“The clothes won’t protect you,” she warned him. “Everblaze burns everything.” Even without direct contact, they could only last a few more minutes in the firestorm.
“But my father—”
“Is finding his own way out.”
She promised herself the words were true as she squinted at the fire, searching for any sign of life. All she could see was smoke and flame.
Oralie screamed and Sophie spun toward her, finding her thrashing in pain, her shoulder covered in a splotch of liquid amethyst.
“The jewels are melting!” Fitz shouted between coughs, pointing to the walls, which were starting to bubble like boiling sugar. “This whole place is going to collapse.”
Another crack split the floor and Sophie grabbed his and Oralie’s hands, dragging them toward what used to be one of the windows—but was now a hole, dripping with bubbling jewel.
Please let us fit, Sophie begged as she charged full speed, pulling Fitz and Oralie as close to her as possible.
She didn’t have time to think or scream as they charged through the gap and plummeted toward the ground—which was now a flaming lake of molten jewel. Sophie closed her eyes, trusting her instincts, and . . .
. . . heard the thunderous clap as they crashed through a crack into the void.
“Where should we go?” Sophie asked—hacking and coughing as the smoke-free air hit her scorched lungs.
Fitz and Oralie were too busy doing the same, but she realized there was really only one place they’d want her to take them.
She pictured Oblivimyre in her mind, concentrating on the shadowy field she’d seen a safe distance away as a crack split the air in front of them and they launched back to the raging Everblaze.
They tumbled across the grass and Sophie was glad she’d picked an arrival point farther away. The flames had already spread to the bare trees along the glittering crystal path. Any minute now the fire would advance beyond the silver fence.
“Dad!” Fitz shouted, running toward what was left of the tower. Oralie raced after him, calling for Kenric and Tiergan and the rest of the Councillors.
But Sophie couldn’t find her voice.
She couldn’t find her brain.
Everything was shutting down, and she wanted to close her eyes and cover her ears and wish it all away.
“I found them!” Fitz shouted, and Sophie could suddenly move again.
She chased the sound, ducking flying sparks and jumping over sparkly purple puddles until she spotted a cluster of heavy-cloaked figures.
Alden raced to meet both of them and they crashed into his arms, nearly knocking everyone over as the sobs Sophie had been fighting burst free.
“Thank goodness,” Alden said, his voice thick with tears of his own. “The flames tore me away from you, and when I tried to go back in I couldn’t get through the blaze.”
“How did you get away?” Fitz asked him.
“Light leaping—Tiergan’s idea. He was the only one thinking clearly.”
“So he’s okay?” Sophie asked.
“Yes, Tiergan is safe, but you’ll have to see him later. I’m so sorry to ask this of you, Sophie, but we need quintessence. As fast as you can get it.”
They must be planning to make frissyn—the only substance that could extinguish the Everblaze—which needed a healthy dose of the rare fifth element. She was surprised they didn’t have any already made.
“I’ll need a stellarscope,” Sophie reminded him, smearing away her tears.
Alden nodded, leading her and Fitz to where the others were already working. “Councillor Liora is a Conjurer.”
“Where’s everyone else?” Sophie asked, realizing there were far fewer people than there should’ve been. She was glad to see Tiergan and Councillor Terik among them—but what about Kenric and Councillor Emery and all the other Councillors?
“They’re working to gather the rest of the ingredients for the frissyn,” Alden explained as a Councillor with bronze-colored skin rushed over. She snapped her fingers—making Sophie realize she must be Councillor Liora—and a stellarscope appeared in her hands.
“We need two dozen,” she told Sophie, snapping her fingers again to conjure up a satchel filled with twenty-four small empty bottles.
Alden tightened his grip on Sophie’s shoulder. “You need to be very careful when you transport the bottles back. That’s enough quintessence to take out a few hundred miles.”
“Great,” Sophie mumbled, grabbing the stellarscope. “Wait—what do you mean transport?”
He pulled his pathfinder out of his pocket and gave it to Fitz. “There’s too much smoke here blocking the stars. I’ve set the path to Siren Rock. Hail me before you leap back.”
“I know which facet will take us here,” Fitz said, shouldering the bag of tiny bottles as he reached for Sophie’s hand.
“Yes, I know,” Alden said sadly. “But you’ll need to make sure it’s safe to return. The Everblaze has caught the wind and is heading toward the river. By the time you’ve bottled the quintessence, this whole city could be up in flames.”
THIRTY-SIX
WARM SALTY WIND PRICKLED THEIR noses as Sophie and Fitz reappeared on a long stretch of pristine beach. The waves glowed with swirls of pink and green, but it felt wrong to be somewhere safe and breathtaking while the world was burning.
“How did this happen?” Fitz asked quietly. “I didn’t even feel Fintan move. How could he have called down Everblaze?”
Sophie didn’t have an answer.
“We should get started,” she said, tucking the stellarscope under her arm and reaching for the first glass bottle. She didn’t realize she was shaking until the bottle slipped from her hands, landing with a soft thud in the silky white sand.
“Hey,” Fitz said, catching the scope as she nearly dropped it, too. “You okay?”
“I’m fine.”
But she could hear the tears rising in her throat, and now that she felt them, she couldn’t hold them back.
Fitz pulled her close, letting her cry on his shoulder as he whispered, “Everything’s going to be okay.”
“Is it?” She wiped her runny nose on her smoky, singed sleeve. “Do you think everyone got out in time?”
“I don’t think my dad would’ve kept that from us, do you?”
“I guess not.”
But they both knew Alden was very good at hiding things.
“I’m sorry I wouldn’t let you search for your dad,” she whispered.
“You mean when I wanted to run into the fire like an idiot?” His chest heaved with a sigh. “Thank you for stopping me. And um . . . thanks for saving my life. I was way too panicked to figure out how to get out of there.”
“Yeah, well you saved me first. I had no idea the Everblaze was burning. If you hadn’t pulled me back, I doubt I would’ve gotten out of there in time.”
“I guess this proves we make a good team.”
A stretch of silence passed before he whispered, “Do you really think Eternalia is going to burn?”
“Not if I can help it.”
She pulled away and grabbed the stellarscope, remembering why they were there. A tiny spout protruded from the narrow end of the scope, and she attached a bottle and hefted the heavy gadget up to her eye.
“Which star do you need to find?” Fitz asked, lining up the other bottles on the sand.
“Elementine is one of the unmapped stars.” She could only
She searched the sky for the six stars her Universe assignment had taught her to look for. The list had actually been prepared by the Black Swan as a clue, and when she connected the dots between the stars, the lines pointed to an empty space, where Elementine was hidden by the darkness.
“Wait,” Fitz said, removing his cape. He tore off two long shreds from the end and handed them to her. “Elwin still talks about how bad the burns on your hands were.”
Sophie could definitely remember the pain—though the yeti pee balm he’d used to treat the injuries had probably been the worst part of the experience.
She handed Fitz the stellarscope and tied the strips around her hands like bandages. The thick fabric should keep her skin protected, but it also made her grip super slippery.
“Here,” Fitz said, tying up his own hands with more cape shreds and moving behind her. He cupped his mummy palms under hers, cradling the scope from underneath. “Is that better? Or is this weird?”
“It’s not weird,” she promised, surprised to realize she meant it.
It had felt weird when she’d stood in a nearly identical position with Dex a few months back. But it was different with Fitz.
“So which way are we looking?” Fitz asked, resting his arms on Sophie’s shoulders.
Sophie squinted through the viewfinder, tracing the trails through the stars until she focused on a patch of darkness.
She could tell Fitz was skeptical as she adjusted the knobs—and then adjusted them again. And again. But when she flipped the switch, thick silvery starlight streaked from the sky—knocking them both backward as it crashed into the scope.
“Is it supposed to be freezing?” Fitz asked as he carefully removed the sealed bottle.
“That’s how it was last time. Only the scope gets hot.” White hot, actually. She adjusted her grip, relieved to feel only a hint of warmth seeping through her makeshift gloves as she screwed on the next empty bottle.
Fitz nestled the quintessence in the sand, making sure it couldn’t tip over.
They worked through the majority of the bottles just as quickly. But the strain of the concentration gave Sophie a headache, and by the time they reached the final five, she could barely see straight.