"Of course. Change always has rewards and costs. But, it will be nice to have more interaction with the Waywards-most of them, at least."

"I'm guessing you never found out anything about the Psionipath I mentioned?"

Coach Rohana sighed. "Actually, I did. I found his list of transgressions, and it was far longer than I'd remembered. He's not someone you want to encounter."

"But I have to," Sophie told her. "Please, if there's anything else you know . . ."

Her Coach stared into the distance, her expression both weary and wary as she whispered, "His name was Ruy Ignis."

FIFTY-SIX.

RUY IGNIS," DEX said, tapping on the screen of the Dexified Imparter, where he'd stored all the Exillium records he'd stolen. They'd met up in the boys' common room to see what they could learn about the Psionipath.

Dex handed the gadget to Sophie and she memorized every detail of Ruy's file-not that it was much to go on. His parents both worked in Mysterium, but they'd been the ones to turn Ruy in to the Council, so it seemed unlikely he would be in touch with them. And his location was listed as "banished and ejected."

"I wonder if my brother knew him," Fitz said, reading over her shoulder. "He's a year older than Alvar, so he probably was a Level ahead at Foxfire. But they still would've crossed paths during PE and stuff."

"Do we have a way to reach Alvar and ask him?"

"My mom might," Fitz said. "Huh, it looks like Ruy got expelled when he was a Level Four, not long after he manifested."

The file didn't say what Ruy had done, just the "proven unstable and unfit for society," they'd seen before. But at the very end of the record Sophie noticed two words she hadn't seen before: Actions irredeemable.

"What do you think that means?" Dex asked.

"It is not a phrase the Council marks someone with lightly," Mr. Forkle said from the doorway. "Whom are we discussing?"

Sophie explained what she'd learned from her Coach, and Mr. Forkle stroked his chin. "I'll have to pool my resources to uncover the specifics of Mr. Ignis's crime. But his past is unlikely to lead to his present location."

"It's still important to know as much about our enemies as possible, right?" Sophie asked.

"Indeed," Mr. Forkle agreed. "But for the moment, I need you to focus on your Cognate training. As this situation continues to unravel, it's more important than ever that the two of you reach your greatest potential. And currently, you're progressing slower than we'd hoped."

"Hey, I was almost dead for a week!" Fitz argued. "And we've worked through a ton of trust exercises."

"You have," Mr. Forkle agreed. "But therein lies the problem. Few people think of trust as an emotion. They prefer to view it as a force they control. But in its basest form, trust is as involuntary as sadness or anger or fear. A newborn child instinctively trusts its parents. Sophie's mind instinctively trusts mine-and now yours as well, Mr. Vacker. So what does that tell us?"

"That Foster has questionable taste in Telepaths?" Keefe guessed.

"No, Mr. Sencen. It's that emotions affect our telepathy in powerful ways. Joy gives us strength and confidence. Love pushes us to try harder and never give up. Fear clouds our judgment or holds us back. Sorrow strips us of our energy and hope. Anger makes us reckless, or too aggressive. And we cannot fully control these forces on our own-but Cognates can, if they learn to recognize each other's emotions."

Keefe snorted. "Definitely not Sophitz's strong suit."

"I agree," Mr. Forkle said. "Which is why I created a new exercise. I should've been diversifying your lessons earlier, to include a range of emotions beyond trust. We must make up for lost time today."

"What about the rest of us?" Biana asked as he led Sophie and Fitz toward the stairs.

"Wraith should be here to train with you within the hour," Mr. Forkle told her. "And Blur is coming to take a look at that database contraption of yours, Mr. Dizznee, to see if he can find a way to integrate those stones internally. And Mr. Sencen-"

"Oh, let me guess," Keefe interrupted. "Another exciting day of reading?"

"Actually, I'd like you to assist with Miss Foster's and Mr. Vacker's training. Your skills as an Empath will be invaluable."

Biana giggled.

"What?" Fitz asked.

"Oh, nothing," she said. "The three of you training together and working with emotions? I don't see how anything could go wrong there."

Mr. Forkle brought them to a cave filled with enormous glowing blue mushrooms and walls covered in twinkling glints of purple. Sophie felt like Alice in Wonderland as she sat on a toadstool as big as a table.

"What is this place?" she asked.

"Gora and Yuri's fungus garden. That musty scent you're smelling comes from the mold on the walls. Breathing it in can make emotions feel more potent."

"Fun as it sounds to have a fungus rush," Keefe said, bouncing on his toadstool, "why do I have to be here for this?"

"To ensure their interpretations of their emotions are accurate. And the mold's effect is incredibly subtle. All it does is clear the mind of other distractions." Mr. Forkle turned to Fitz. "Do you remember how to find Miss Foster's emotional center?"

"I think so."

Keefe laughed. "Annnnnnnnd, the Foster panicking begins."

"I'm not panicking," Sophie told him, with a very unconvincing squeak.

She ignored Keefe's laugher as she gave Fitz permission to enter her mind.

Several uncomfortable seconds passed before Fitz said, "Okay, I think I'm there-and whoa, it's even more overwhelming than last time."

"Sorry," Sophie mumbled, wanting to hide under her giant mushroom.

"Powerful emotions are an asset," Mr. Forkle told her. "Especially for this. And now I must lead you to the same point in Mr. Vacker's consciousness. Try to follow my lead and memorize the trail."

The "trail" was a thread of warmth winding deep into Fitz's mind. It ended in a patch of darkness that hummed with energy.

Push through, Mr. Forkle transmitted, and Sophie gasped as she obeyed. She'd studied fractals in her human math classes, but she'd never been surrounded by a 3-D version. Every color. Every pattern. Every style and shape were woven together into something both breathtaking and completely overwhelming.

"It takes some getting used to," Mr. Forkle said. "But what you're seeing is a visual representation of each other's moods."

"So, does that mean if I do this . . ." Keefe tickled Sophie's neck.

"GAH-everything just went supersonic!" Fitz said.

Sophie snatched Keefe's wrist as he reached to tickle her again. "Don't. You. Dare."

"Whoa, now everything's red and ripply," Fitz said. "Is that because she's angry?"

"Precisely, Mr. Vacker. Every time her emotions shift, the patterns and colors will change. And with practice, you'll learn to interpret what you see."

"Okay, but . . . can't they just say, 'Hey-I'm feeling this'?" Keefe asked.

"People aren't always honest about their feelings-even with themselves," Mr. Forkle told him. "Plus, many telepathic assignments involve stealth and secrecy. So for this exercise I'm going to need you both to forget everything around you. Let the world drop away, leaving only you two."

Keefe sighed. "Just tell them to stare into each other's eyes and they'll be good."

"None of that, Mr. Sencen. From this moment on, you have one job and one job only: to judge their translations of the various emotions I'll be triggering."

"Triggering how?" Sophie asked.

"You'll see soon enough. And you'll guess first, Miss Foster. For this to work, Mr. Vacker, it's crucial that you not react externally. No yelling or thrashing or screaming or-"

"Uhhh, what are you going to do to me?" Fitz asked.

"Nothing you won't survive. Consider it an exercise in self-control. And try not to listen to his thoughts, Miss Foster. Study only the changes in his emotional center and make your deduction. We begin now."

Sophie closed her eyes and focused on the colors weaving around Fitz's mind. She was about to ask if she was missing something when the pattern exploded into a swirl of pale blue tendrils. The color felt too bright to be sad, but also too wild to be peaceful.

"Tension?" she guessed.

"Kinda close," Keefe told her.

The laughter in his voice made her wonder what had happened to poor Fitz.

She tried to think of other emotions as his mind turned electric blue.

"Shock?" she guessed.

"That counts," Keefe said. "Though the best answer would've been 'surprise.'"

"Is that an emotion?" she asked.

"Indeed it is," Mr. Forkle said. "One of the most common emotions you'll experience as you navigate someone's mind-hence why I chose it as our starting point."

"Can I talk now?" Fitz asked. "Because that was seriously disgusting!"

Sophie opened her eyes and tried not to laugh when she saw red fruit smashed all over Fitz's face. He wiped his cheeks on his sleeves, but that only smeared the pulp.

"I think I'm going to like this assignment," Keefe said. "What else can we fling at Fitz?"

"Nothing for the moment," Mr. Forkle told him. "It's his turn to interpret. Everyone close your eyes. And remember, no cues of any kind, Miss Foster."

Sophie counted the seconds, bracing for the worst-and when nothing changed, she opened her eyes and found Mr. Forkle with his finger over his lips in a "shhh" sign.

"Um . . . confusion," Fitz guessed.

"That works," Keefe said. "It started as anticipation, but then it shifted."

"Very good," Mr. Forkle said. "And well done, Mr. Sencen. I wasn't sure you'd recognize confusion. It's one of the more challenging emotions for Empaths."

"Maybe on other people," Keefe said. "But on Foster it's easy. Why are her emotions so much stronger?"

"Honestly, I'm not sure," Mr. Forkle admitted. "I suspect it stems from the combination of her inflicting ability and her human upbringing. But it was one of the surprises of her development. Much like her teleporting. Okay, Miss Foster, it's your turn to guess again."

She closed her eyes and watched as the lines of color in Fitz's mind blossomed to a snowflake of purple.

"Pride?" she guessed.

Keefe laughed. "Wow, add more fail points to Sophitz."

"Quiet," Mr. Forkle told him.

The brightness in Fitz's mind dimmed, and the pattern seemed to melt into a swamp of murky gray green.

"Disappointment?" she tried.

"Now it is," Keefe said. "Before it was jealousy."

"Jealousy over what?" Sophie asked.

"Is it my turn to guess?" Fitz said, changing the subject.

Fitz guessed Sophie's next emotion: embarrassment from Mr. Forkle giving her a big hug. And Sophie guessed right when Fitz panicked after Mr. Forkle placed an especially hairy spider on his knee. They nailed the next few as well: stress, joy, and bravery. And the more they practiced, the more Sophie could sense their minds syncing. Eventually she could actually feel the emotion as Fitz experienced it, not just see the change in color and pattern.

"Remarkable, isn't it?" Mr. Forkle asked.

"Kind of," Fitz said. "It's cool to feel what she's feeling. But I still don't see how this helps with telepathy."

"Then stand up," Mr. Forkle ordered. "Both of you. And put your hands on my temples. Don't think. Just feel your way through my blocking-if you can."

They stretched out their minds, and Fitz's consciousness seemed to merge with Sophie's as they moved almost like a dance, sweeping around barriers and sidestepping defenses. When Sophie's excitement bubbled up, Fitz's steadiness slowed her down, saving her from pushing into a trap. And when Fitz grew too impatient, Sophie was there to calm his mind before he rushed the wrong direction. They ducked and dipped and scuttled, until they reached a swarm of cold currents dragging them up while Sophie's brain told her to keep fighting down.

Fitz struggled with her, and they'd almost fought their way through when she remembered what Mr. Forkle had told her about her abilities being deceived when she'd tried to read his mind before.

Maybe Fitz's confidence made her more daring-or maybe she was crazy-but she told Fitz to let the cold currents drag them up and away, against their instincts.

When they did, they crashed through a prickly barrier and . . .

. . . Mr. Forkle's thoughts filled their minds.

"WE DID IT!" Fitz shouted as Mr. Forkle scrambled to shut them out.