"WHAT?" Sophie and her friends shouted together.

"Don't look so afraid," Granite said. "This is only a last resort. But if it comes to that . . ."

"This is crazy," Della said after a stunned silence. "You should've sent lower members of the order to help us."

"And make the Council's mistake?" Mr. Forkle asked. "No, I think not. The centuries they've spent delegating responsibilities to their Emissaries have made them lose touch with the realities of our world."

"Leaders must lead," Granite agreed.

"But aren't you worried about what secrets they'll learn if you're captured?" Fitz asked.

"We're prepared," Mr. Forkle said.

All five of the Collective held up their hands, revealing identical black-banded rings.

"They have poison in them," Sophie guessed.

Mr. Forkle nodded. "But it only erases our memories."

"Duuuuuude. You guys need some better planning skills," Keefe said. "How about-"

"There will be no amending the plan," Mr. Forkle interrupted. "But we do need all of you to promise that you will respect our wishes."

"You seriously expect us to just leave you?" Sophie asked.

Mr. Forkle's voice filled her mind. You think the Black Swan cannot function without us-but you're wrong. Our Proxies would handle things until you five are ready.

It was the second time he'd mentioned Proxies, and she wasn't entirely sure she knew what he meant, but she was more nervous about the last part of the statement.

Yes, he told her as an impossible thought started to form. That is our eventual hope.

Are you reading my mind?!

These are not normal circumstances.

He was right about that.

Five members of the Collective.

Five of her and her friends.

But . . . we're just kids, she thought.

For the moment, yes. But we are talking about the future.

You really think we'll still need a Black Swan that many years from now?

Yes. I believe we will always need a Black Swan. The world has gotten too complicated to leave any one group solely in charge. There needs to be a system of checks and balances. We do hope to someday work hand in hand with the Council. But even if that never happens, we should be there to keep them honest.

"So, are we all in agreement?" he asked out loud.

No one said yes, but no one argued.

They marched in silence the rest of the way, until they reached a web of roots. Calla pulled a specific thread and the whole web unraveled, revealing a wooden door.

"It begins now," Mr. Forkle said as Calla removed a pouch from her pocket. Sophie smelled anise, saffron, and something smokier as Calla sprinkled them each with dried leaves.

"These herbs are the gnomes' version of magsidian," Granite explained. "Hopefully the dwarves will scent them and assume we're here for a food delivery. It will not buy us long, but it should give us a few precious minutes."

"From this moment on the mission begins," Mr. Forkle said. "Trust yourselves. Let your talents aid you. And above all, remember your promises."

Sophie remembered her promise all right-but she'd silently made a new one.

She was getting everyone safely out of Exile, no matter what.

TWENTY-EIGHT.

SOPHIE HAD FORGOTTEN the sharp, bitter smell of Exile. But this time there was an underlying sourness, masked by something artificially sterile-as if the whole place were a carelessly bandaged wound, oozing beneath the surface.

The hallway they'd entered was plain, cold metal. No windows, no doors, and thankfully no blaring alarms or guards. Mr. Forkle closed the door behind them and it vanished seamlessly.

"That was supposed to happen, right?" Keefe asked. "Because it feels like we just got locked in."

His voice was barely a whisper, but the sound felt like a T. rex roaring. Sophie remembered Exile being filled with muffled moans. But she heard nothing except the rush of their hurried breathing.

"We must not linger in the somnatorium," Granite warned. "These prisoners are the irredeemable cases, brought here for permanent sleep."

"So . . . basically they're dead," Sophie said.

"If you want to see it that way," Blur told her. "But they're also very much alive, which is what keeps the guilt from shattering the Councillors' minds. It's also why we need to move quickly. We shouldn't test the thoroughness of the sedatives."

Sophie wasn't sure the whole sedate-the-evil-people plan sounded all that solid-but what did she want the Council to do? Kill them?

"That light up ahead is the main corridor of Exile," Mr. Forkle told them. "That's where we must separate. I'd also advise you to keep your eyes on the floor from here on out."

Sophie had used that trick last time, avoiding any glimpse through the porthole windows into the cells. But she was determined to face whatever waited for her.

"What's so scary about-" Keefe started to ask. Then a face slammed against the glass.

The ogre's lumpy skin was so swollen that it could barely open its eyes-and yet, the glare it fixed on them burned with rage as it licked its bloody teeth.

"Ooooooooooooookay, looking down now," Keefe whispered, pressing his chin into his neck. "So . . . are we going to be messing with creepy dudes like that?"

"Worse," Blur said, clapping Keefe on the back. "Welcome to the land of monsters."

And Prentice, Sophie thought.

One weak star, tucked among the suffocating darkness. She wondered if any other innocents were trapped in these metal cages.

"Your group goes that way," Mr. Forkle told Blur, pointing to the left as the hall forked.

"Come on," Blur told Keefe and Squall. "Time to see who can cause the most chaos."

"Well . . . when you put it that way!" Keefe rubbed his hands together.

"Please be careful," Sophie begged.

"There you go caring about me again, Foster. Your fan club is going to get jealous."

He zipped away with the others before anyone could respond.

Granite pointed down the opposite path. "The Room Where Chances Are Lost is that way. Avoid the adjuncts and the hall will dead-end there."

Wraith and Biana turned to leave, but Della hesitated.

"I'll be fine, Mom," Fitz promised. "Just take care of yourself-and Biana."

Della strangled him with a hug and pulled Sophie and Dex in. "Take care of each other."

"We will," they promised.

Della held them a second longer, then took Biana's hand and they ran after Wraith, vanishing down the hall.

"I guess that means I'm up," Sophie whispered.

She leaned against the wall to hold herself steady, then gasped as a shock of cold stabbed through her cloak.

"A Froster froze the walls," Mr. Forkle explained. "After Fintan, the Council is not taking any chances with excess heat."

"Is there a Pyrokinetic here?" Sophie asked.

"Two," Granite said.

Sophie hoped her path to Prentice kept her far away.

"Here," Fitz said as she tried to lean against the freezing wall again. "Lean on me-that's what I'm here for."

Sophie doubted the Black Swan had meant it quite so literally. But he was much warmer than the wall. Fitz wrapped his arms around her shoulders, and Sophie was grateful Keefe wasn't there to feel her mood shift-though she was proud that her heart kept an even tempo, even when Fitz leaned closer and whispered, "You can do this."

She pinned the words in her mind, saving them in case she needed them later.

Three . . .

Two . . .

One.

She spread out her consciousness, and hundreds of voices rampaged into her brain.

Just take it one mind at a time, she told herself as their thoughts scraped and clawed at her defenses like wild animals. She concentrated on the nearest memory.

A starved, rabid troll chased two teenagers through a lonely forest. The teens were fast, and for a second it looked like they might get away. Then the troll was on top of them, raising its clawed hands over their stomachs and- Sophie shoved the memory away.

She'd thought she understood what evil looked like-but clearly she'd only experienced the PG version. The uncensored director's cut was a thousand times worse.

Every memory she searched was madness and mayhem, blood and gore, death and destruction. It didn't matter what species they were-though the ogres' minds were surprisingly the most bearable, their hidden thoughts like sticky spiderwebs.

"You okay, Sophie?" Fitz asked.

"They're so awful," she whispered. "I can't . . ."

"Yes you can," he told her. "You're stronger than them."

Maybe she was. But she needed something good to cling to.

"I need a happy story," she said. "Something that always makes you feel confident."

"Okay. Um . . . Gah-I'm drawing a blank."

"I'll do it," Dex offered.

"No wait-I've got it! When I was five, my dad brought me with him to pick Alvar up after he'd been descryed. I'd been so jealous, since Councillor Terik was making a huge exception to his no-descrying policy just for my brother. But when we got to Councillor Terik's castle he offered to descry me, too. It was the best surprise ever. And then he told me I'd grow up to become an even more powerful Telepath than my dad, and . . . that was the first time I ever thought I could be special. It made me feel unstoppable. And you're a thousand times more talented than I am, Sophie. I know you can do this."

Sophie stacked his words into a wall, and the violent noise seemed to dim, clearing her head enough to think.

The last time she'd been in Prentice's mind, he'd responded when she'd transmitted her name. She tried that again, powering the words with the last of her mental strength.

Agonizing seconds slipped past, but eventually she caught a faint whisper through the darkness.

Swan song.

"I found him!" She pointed the way Della, Biana, and Wraith had gone.

"You're sure?" Mr. Forkle asked. "It's strange that they would place him near the exit."

Sophie checked again, and the sound was definitely coming from that direction. But Prentice's voice was slipping away.

She took off running.

Dex caught up with her first, "You okay?"