Keeper of the Lost Cities: Elysian

Chapter 1

A figure adorned in a gray cloak stepped out of thin air, and her voice was dark, raw, and somehow melodious as she said, "My name is Elysian. And I am the power source you're all here looking for."

Sophie sucked in a huge breath and was secretly glad that her jaw wasn't the only one about to hit the floor.

What? How?

A very absurd part of Sophie's brain decided that if she were in a human movie, this would be where she and her friends got epically snapped to pieces. Or dropped into a sinkhole. Or something else that would put a halt to all of their plans, or worse, end their lives...

They were playing with fire- that much was completely certain.

Everything was unsettling about the way Elysian stood motionless underneath her cloak, scrutinizing them.

Marella snapped her fingers and frowned when no flames appeared. Maruca, standing nearby, couldn't form any force fields. Both of them turned to Sophie with helpless gazes.

Sophie remembered the eerie moment when it felt like a hand had reached into her brain and switched it off.

What is going on? she transmitted to Fitz, but her words slammed into a barrier and bounced back at her, echoing in her head. She slowly reached out with her consciousness and hit the same shield around it.

She glanced at Fitz, but he gave no inclination that he had received her transmission- and he looked just as perplexed as she was.

A grunt from across the clearing snapped her out of her trance, and she gasped as she spotted a seven-foot-tall goblin climb out of a hole.

"Sandor!" She rushed to his side, wincing when she saw the cuts and bruises on his body. "Are you alright?"

Sandor shook the dirt off his body and muttered, "I'm fine," but that would have been a lot more convincing if he hadn't started breathing heavily and leaning on Sophie's shoulder. "Those trolls..."

Maruca shivered and stared at the hole as if she expected the trolls to return.

Sandor trailed off and he caught something behind Sophie. He growled.

Alarmed, Sophie turned and spotted Lady Gisela, who was digging in her pocket for something. Her hands shook as she withdrew something. "I suppose that's my cue to leave," she said, holding a yellow crystal to the light. Her voice faltered on the last syllable as if she was afraid.

Sophie rallied her concentration and prepared to snatch the crystal out of her hand with telekinesis- and then stopped when she saw the blur of motion.

Her dagger. Hope. Thrown at Lady Gisela. From Keefe's hand.

The well-aimed dagger would have done fatal damage if she hadn't glittered away a fraction of a second before Hope hit home.

Hope landed in the grass, and Keefe bent to pick it up.

Sophie took a few deep breaths.

Keefe was hunched over, breathing heavily, and Sophie walked over to place a comforting hand on his shoulder. "You okay?"

Her gesture wasn't missed by Fitz, whose eyes narrowed.

Keefe's breathing eased back to normal, and he whispered back, "I don't know. For a moment I just trusted my instincts and threw your dagger- Hope- at my mom. I wanted to... end her. But I don't know what I feel anymore..."

Sophie didn't have to be an Empath to know that Keefe was guilty. And guilt tended to lead to the most disastrous consequences in the Lost Cities. "Keefe..." she began. "I felt the same thing when I first trained with Sandor and Ro. I didn't want to... end lives. But Ro taught me four words."