The trees blurred. The ground spun.

No.

Sophie swayed.

"No."

Ruy flinched. "I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"No."

He pinched his lips together.

"You're lying."

"I'm not, Sophie."

"Yes you are. You're trying to get me to come back."

"I wish that were true."

Sophie sank to her knees. No.

It made so much sense, though.

She couldn't use her abilities anymore. She could barely even transmit.

It made so much sense, and yet . . .

"How?" she whispered.

Ruy crouched down, still several paces away. The regret in his eyes would've knocked her back a step if it wasn't already so hard to breathe.

"It's a failsafe." he rubbed his head. "Gisela had Gethen implant it in case something like this—" he gestured around, indicating the Black Swan's hideout—"happened."

Sophie swallowed. "The night they took me. The Black Swan. That's when it first started." She hugged her arms.

Ruy nodded, looking like he wanted to come closer, but not daring to. "That's why I told you to tell me the second you started losing short-term memories. That's the first sign."

"The second?" Sophie asked.

"Intense pain whenever you try to use your abilities."

"And the third?"

"There is no third. They're gone."

Sophie opened up a trembling hand. Her Telepathy. Her Polyglot abilities. Teleportation. Inflicting. Enhancing.

All gone. Like they never existed.

She never knew how much she'd leaned on them. How much they were apart of her.

And now . . .

It felt like something fundamental had been ripped away, leaving a gaping hole in her soul.

She could already feel it—the cold in her hands where they used to tingle with warmth, the silence of the world, the thick knot of emotions in her ribcage not being able to be let out.

Gone.

But . . . "That can't be possible. My abilities are woven into my DNA."

Ruy shook his head. "I don't know how. Gisela didn't let anyone besides herself, Vespera, and Gethen in on the project—something about needing their specific abilities. They called it Project Reversed. To think that they could change something so fundamental—" he shook his head again. "I don't know."

Despair ripped a wide, gaping hole inside of her, and Sophie hung on to the edge, battling to keep from falling in. But each minute was getting harder and harder.

She didn't know how long she could keep doing this.

The Neverseen would never let her go.

She'd been wrong before—they weren't only two, three steps ahead. No, they were playing a whole different game.

And she was beginning to feel like she was out of her league.

She dug her fingers into the cool earth, trying to calm her nerves. She pictured Calla's voice singing to her, soothing her like she used to do at Alluveterre.

But she was drowning too fast for anyone to stop it.

Something in her shattered—it must have shown in her eyes, because Ruy caught it. Whatever restraint he'd been holding on to seemed to break and he scooted closer.

"I'm so sorry," he murmured, and took her hands. "I never thought it was going to play out like this."

"That's the problem," Sophie whispered. "It did."

"I know," Ruy said sadly. He pulled away. "But if I've learned one thing about you, it's that you always find a way. Even in the simplest sense. But also for the things that matter. Like this."

"Not this time. There's no fixing this."

"I might be foolish, but I don't believe that." Ruy caught her chin when she tried to look away. "And you shouldn't either."

His eyes latched onto something behind her, and he stood up. "Looks like you have a visitor. That's my cue."

Sophie followed suit, tracking his gaze. Indeed, someone was walking towards them—still too far away to make out.

She turned back to Ruy, who was pulling out a dark green leaping crystal.

He paused, looking back over his shoulder. "Oh, and Sophie?" He winked. "You got this."

She blinked, and he was gone.

"Who was that?" Keefe asked quietly from behind her.

"Ruy." No point in lying. He'd be able to sense it.

He didn't respond.

Sophie turned to face him. His blonde hair was messier than normal, like he'd ran his hands through it. "What made you come out?"

He locked eyes with her, searching. "I felt something."

Sophie looked away.

"Hey." Keefe took a step forward. "What happened?"

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out.

There was that feeling again—the pit of despair that yawned open and threatened to swallow her whole. Sophie sucked in a shuddering breath.

"That," Keefe said quietly. "That was what I felt."

"My abilities," Sophie whispered. "They're gone."

Keefe blinked. "What?"

"You know how when I tried to Enhance you, all I felt was pain?"

He grimaced. "Couldn't forget. And you're saying that happened because . . . ?"

"Because of some 'failsafe' the Neverseen put in my head in case I got turned back." She kicked the ground, petals flying.

"Ruy told you this?" He glanced to the spot where Ruy had been before he disappeared.

Sophie nodded.

Keefe ran a hand through his hair. "What if he lied? Wasn't he friends with Alvar?" He let out a bitter laugh. "We all know how good he was at telling the truth."

"No. Trust me, he wasn't lying." Sophie shivered. "Plus, Ruy and Alvar weren't really friends—Gisela just wanted him to keep an eye on Alvar. She figured a Vacker could be useful."

"Really? Weren't they in the same class?"

"Yeah, but Ruy skipped a lot of grades. He's actually closer to Fitz's age than Alvar's."

Keefe snorted. "Convenient."

"What?"

"Nothing."

Sophie side-eyed him.

His gaze turned serious. "When are you going to tell the others?"

"I'm not telling the others."

Keefe stopped short. "What? This is . . . pretty big."

"I'm already broken enough. I don't need anything else added to their list."

She sat down, leaning against one of the vine-covered trees. She closed her eyes as the smell of the dreamlilies flooded her senses.

He crouched down beside her. "I know, but . . ."

Sophie cracked open an eye. "You're one to talk about telling people your secrets." Keefe flinched, but she plowed on. "Your injury? The one you had Linh help you with?"

Keefe stiffened. "How do you know about that?" he asked slowly. Something tiny broke inside of her at the distrust in his eyes.

She shoved it away. "I didn't read your mind, if that's what you're thinking," Sophie said quickly. "I . . . saw you. In the Healing Center. I broke into Foxfire."

He raised an eyebrow. "Doing delinquent work without me, Foster? We'll have to make up for it sometime."

Sophie didn't smile back. "It was bad," she whispered.

Keefe looked away. "It was my own fault." He'd said something like that on the night she'd seen him laying on a cot through the doors of the Healing Center.

"How did it heal so fast?"

He tugged on his sleeve. "It didn't."

Sophie examined him. Now that she thought about it, she'd mostly seen him sitting down. But the times he'd stood up . . .

He had been moving stiffer than usual.

Keefe fanned the air. "Thanks for the worry, Foster. But really, it's unnecessary."

She gave him a look. "For some reason, I don't find that convincing."

"I have no idea why."

Sophie smiled, despite herself. But it only lasted for a second before shadows crept back into her mind. She was losing her abilities.

If they weren't gone already.

Keefe sighed, standing up. "Okay, we need to get your mind off this. I have an idea." He offered her his hand.

Sophie ignored it, pushing off the ground. At his offended look, she snorted. "Oh, come on. You're injured. Don't give me that face."

Keefe glared. "See, this is exactly why no one was supposed to know about it."

Sophie shrugged. "I would've found out eventually." She stuck her hands into the pockets of her overcoat and froze.

"Why do I have a feeling that would be true?" Keefe muttered. He stopped, glancing over his shoulder when he realized she wasn't following him. "You coming?"

Sophie waved him off. "I'll be right behind you."

He gave her a skeptical look. "Okay."

Sophie waited until he was out of sight before pulling her hand out of her pocket.

Her breath caught.

For rolling around in the palm of her hand was a small, glittering, marble-sized object.

A cache.

And in her other hand . . .

Two more caches.