Chariots? Plows? Bows and arrows? Were any of those thousands of years old?

"I remember learning in school about an Iron Age, a Bronze Age, and a Stone Age," she told them. "Where humans made tools from those different materials."

"Hmm. I'm already using bronze and iron for some of the other creatures," Dex said. "But I guess I could try stone-though I have no idea how stone counts as 'technology.'"

"It makes a pretty decent weapon," Keefe mumbled. "Just ask my mom."

He rubbed his head where she'd given him a gash during her attempt to steal Silveny.

No one seemed to know what to say to that.

"I think that's my cue," Keefe said, heading for the door. "Call me if you decide on an ogre invasion."

Dex stood too, stuffing the Twiggler into his satchel. "Guess I need to go rock hunting. Wanna come with me?" he asked Sophie.

"We really need to work through some Cognate exercises," Fitz reminded her. "We lost a whole week when I was sick."

The old Dex would've glowered and muttered something about Telepaths. But the new Dex just nodded and said, "Yeah, that makes sense."

"Can I go with you?" Biana asked him. "If I don't let Iggy get some exercise, he's going to shred another one of my favorite shoes."

Biana must really love the little imp if she was willing to forgive footwear destruction.

"At least he's doing well on his diet," she told Sophie. "I think he's finally getting a taste for vegetables!"

It turned out Iggy had most definitely not gotten a taste for vegetables, and Biana stomped back an hour later, muttering about "stubborn imps." Sophie assumed it had something to do with the giant moth wing Iggy was crunching on.

Della returned not long after, looking uncommonly frazzled. Her hair was tied back in a sloppy bun, and her gown was stained and wrinkled.

"Everything okay?" Sophie asked.

Della shook her head. "Physic had done some research on human comas, and she'd come up with a treatment plan for Prentice, with cold and hot compresses and balms and elixirs. We tried it today, but somewhere in the process he stopped breathing and everything unraveled. We got him breathing again-don't worry. But . . ." Della stared at the ceiling. "I think we're officially out of ideas. Nothing seems to matter."

If words could cast a shadow, they would've darkened the whole house.

"I'm sorry," Della said, heading toward her room. "I don't mean to despair. I'm just tired of sitting at Prentice's bedside telling happy stories and trying to pretend I'm not partially there for completely selfish reasons. I want him to get better, but . . ."

Sophie knew what she meant.

Della was still worried about how Prentice's condition would affect Alden.

"Anyway, good night." Della kissed her son on the top of the head, then did the same to Sophie before she headed for her room. "Don't stay up too late working. You'll need plenty of rest before another day at Exillium.

Sophie knew Della was right, and went to bed an hour early. She also ate a double portion of breakfast the next morning in case they were in for another round of appetite suppression. She was prepared for anything Exillium could throw at her-until they leaped to campus and arrived in the heart of a plague zone.

FORTY-FIVE.

NOW SOPHIE KNEW what the ancient gnomish songs had meant by their warnings of a great Withering and an endless Fall.

The Exillium tents had been set up along the edge of a sheer cliff, overlooking a blackened, shriveled woodland. The tree trunks were twisted and cracked, their branches sagging and drooping, and their speckled leaves blanketed the ground in heaps of mold green and sallow yellow.

"Where are we?" Sophie whispered.

"It doesn't matter," her purple Coach said behind her.

The five friends turned to find all three Coaches looming over them. Waywards milled nearby, pretending they weren't eavesdropping.

"How can you say that?" Biana asked the Coaches. "Don't you know what's happening down there?"

"We don't," the red Coach said, "and we aren't supposed to."

"That's not our world," the blue Coach added. "It's simply scenery."

"So you don't care that-" Sophie started.

"We don't," the blue Coach interrupted.

"We can't," the purple Coach clarified. "We know our place, and the role we're expected to play. The five of you need to learn yours."

"You're no longer part of a community," the red Coach added. "You're fighting for survival and redemption."

"But how is it redeeming to only care about ourselves?" Sophie asked.

The silence that followed felt like it was breathing down their necks, probably because the whole school was watching.

The Coaches' eventual reply was to order everyone to their Hemispheres.

Sophie kept her head down as she ran to her purple Ambi tent and sat near one of the tent poles. A shadow passed over her, and she looked up to find the Shade and the Hydrokinetic standing beside her.

The Shade's whispery voice filled her head. "You'll get in huge trouble if you keep talking to the Coaches like that."

Probably, Sophie transmitted. But someone needs to tell them they're wrong.

The way he tilted his head made her wonder if he was smiling. It was impossible to tell between the mask and the hood.

"This place is called Bosk Gorge," he whispered, "and it's not the worst we've seen of the desolation."

Where was the worst?

"Wildwood. There's pretty much nothing left."

Before Sophie could reply, the purple Coach stormed into the tent and clapped her hands.

"Everyone rise!" she ordered.

Sophie moved to stand, then realized the Coach meant a different kind of "rise."

The rest of the Waywards floated off the ground as the Coach announced they'd be practicing levitation-in-motion.

"Choose any movement you'd like," the Coach said. "But you must keep moving. Every time you fall, you prove yourself Unworthy."

Sophie could've sworn the Coach looked at her as she said the last part, and it made her determined to stay airborne. She closed her eyes, pushed against gravity, and floated her body off the ground. But she couldn't figure out how to move like the other Waywards. Motion required resistance-something to bounce off and create thrust. So when she tried to "walk," her legs only flailed, and the longer she hovered there, the heavier her body felt.

How you holding up? Fitz transmitted as she collapsed for a break.

I don't understand how they're all doing this, she grumbled.

Neither do I. I've dropped twice already, and Biana's hit the ground three times. My Coach says we're not motivated enough.

You're lucky you guys are together. I'm the only one struggling in my group.

She forced herself to levitate again, and tried flapping her arms, which mostly made her look like a giant chicken. She felt even more ridiculous when she stole another look at the plague-infested forest.

I can't believe we're wasting time on this when we could be down there investigating.

Maybe it's better, Fitz said. We wouldn't want to accidently infect Calla.

Sophie definitely didn't want that-but it still felt like they were missing an opportunity. They could be learning things that might help the gnomes, and instead she was trying to air-swim.

"You're focusing your efforts too narrowly," her Coach said as Sophie dropped on her belly so hard it knocked the wind out of her. "Gravity isn't the only force you have to work with."

A gong announced their break before Sophie figured out what that meant.

She stumbled to the eating area, where all the Waywards were lining up for lunch. The food itself was simple-baskets of whole fruit for them to choose from-and Sophie noticed everyone only took one piece. They also sat separately, on threadbare blankets the same color as their Hemisphere. The only sounds were the wind and the awkward crunch of chewing.

She'd chosen a pear-shaped fruit with a smooth teal skin. It looked too pretty to eat, and Sophie wished she'd gone with that instinct. It tasted like juicy cheese, and each bite felt greasier than the last. The Shade and the Hydrokinetic sat across from her, sharing a purple spiky fruit between them. Sophie wondered if that meant they were boyfriend and girlfriend.

"You should be more careful about your telepathic conversations," the Shade's voice whispered inside her head.

One of these times you're going to give me a heart attack, Sophie transmitted. How do you talk like that?

His shadow stretched farther over hers. "It's called shadow-whispering. My shadow is carrying my consciousness, so no one can hear me except you-but I still only do it when no one's looking. You need to take the same precaution. If the Coach catches you, they'll punish everyone. They want us to hate each other. It's how they keep control. They know there are only three of them and hundreds of us. If we unite, we could take them out easily."

Or they could try getting us to like them, Sophie suggested. Fear isn't the only way to control people.

"No, but it's the quickest. I would know."

The darkness in his tone was almost as unsettling as watching his shadow crawl back to its proper angle. Sophie could definitely see why Fitz would find Shades creepy. But she couldn't shake the feeling that this one was worth knowing.

The gong rang again, ordering them back to their tents, and the stronger afternoon gales made the exercise even more challenging. Waywards were tossed around the tents, crashing into the poles and each other. Sophie tried to use the wind's momentum to finally get herself moving, but the wind seemed to be a force she couldn't manipulate.

She stretched out her mind, feeling for other forces to play with, and instead picked up a feint sound. It came from the withered woods, and after a minute of concentrating she realized it was a voice.

A word.

The same word over and over, growing more chilling every time.

Help.

FORTY-SIX.

SOPHIE RACED TOWARD the cliff and jumped, planning to teleport into the woods to find whoever needed help.

But as the forces whipped around her, she realized that levitating would be easier. She could feel a strange rush of resistance in the air now that she felt the thrill of falling. And when she focused on that energy, she finally had the thrust she needed to propel herself forward. A little additional concentration and she was sprinting so fast it made her eyes water.

"Where are you going?" Fitz asked, racing up beside her-and triggering a panicked plummet.

"Sorry," he said as she fought to regain her concentration. "Didn't mean to scare you. When I saw you jump, I jumped. Biana tried to come too, but our Coach grabbed her. What's wrong?"

"Someone needs help. I can hear them calling me, but I don't know where they are. I'm trying to track them now."

She closed her eyes, but all she could hear were the angry voices shouting from the cliff above. Sophie was pretty sure they were setting a record for Exillium disobedience.

Fitz grabbed her hand so they could keep pace together. "How can I help?"

"Can you boost my concentration? It might clear my head."

"Done," he said as warmth trickled into her mind.

The extra energy snapped everything into focus. "He's that way," she said, pivoting in midair and running toward the densest part of the woods.

They sank lower as they moved, until their feet were skirting the tops of the withered trees.

"Down there," she whispered, pointing to a small clearing.

The speckled leaves made a sickening squish as they touched down.

"He's here somewhere-I can feel it," she said as they combed the ground, kicking up the fallen leaves.

Several agonizing minutes passed before Fitz shouted, "I found him!"

Sophie raced to his side, feeling her stomach lurch when she saw the body lying in the shadow of the tallest, most shriveled tree.