Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities #8) - Shannon Messenger Page 0,3

not the book that the key opened.

Tiny fragments of shattered memories that didn’t make any sense.

And no matter what truths they pieced together or what risks they took, the Neverseen were always five million steps ahead of them.

Put simply: They were losing.

And Sophie was sick of it.

“The Neverseen have proven to be more formidable than we expected,” Mr. Forkle admitted. “And their changes in leadership have made anticipating their tactics particularly complicated.”

“We have too many enemies,” Sophie muttered.

“We do indeed. And their individual visions do not always perfectly align, which has caused additional confusion. But we still know far more than you’re letting yourself admit.”

“Like what?” She turned to face him, crossing her arms. “I’m serious. Tell me one useful thing we’ve learned.”

“I can name many, Miss Foster. And so can you. You’re simply overlooking them because you’re upset that you haven’t gotten the answers you want—and I understand that inclination. But you’re far too smart for such ill-reasoned logic. Which is why I brought you here, to make sure you’re seeing the bigger picture.”

He tapped another rhythm against the table, and the pins shifted, making new landmarks emerge among all the others: Gildingham, the goblins’ golden capital, which seemed to be tucked among the Andes Mountains—and probably inspired the human myths of El Dorado. Ravagog, the ogre stronghold on the Eventide River, which was apparently hidden in the lushest part of central Asia. Loamnore, a city Sophie assumed was the dwarven capital, since the enormous metropolis was under the Gobi desert rather than above it. And Marintrylla, an island near New Zealand that was probably the trollish capital and seemed to be an intricate network of caves and bridges.

“What do you see?” Mr. Forkle asked.

Sophie’s eyes narrowed. “I’m assuming you’re looking for a better answer than ‘a bunch of cities.’ ”

Flori giggled.

Sandor and Bo snorted.

Mr. Forkle grumbled something under his breath that started with “You kids.”

“Why don’t you just tell me what you want me to say?” Sophie suggested.

“Because I’m trying to teach you, Miss Foster. Your friends look to you for guidance, and lately all I’ve seen you display is despair and frustration. If you’re going to lead them, you need to do better.”

“Lead them.” The phrase felt heavy on Sophie’s tongue. “Is that your big plan, then? Dump all the responsibility on me, because I’m the moonlark?”

“Need I remind you that you’re the one who chose to involve your friends? I’m not criticizing you for that—your friends have proven invaluable to our efforts. But you can’t ignore the responsibility that you took on when you recruited them.”

Sophie’s insides twisted.

She’d never intended to “recruit” her friends. They just kept asking questions about what she was doing and offering to help. And eventually, she’d realized she needed them.

But now everything that happened wasn’t just her responsibility—it was her fault. Like when Lady Gisela knocked Tam out cold and dragged him away, even though he’d already agreed to cooperate.

“I know what you’re thinking,” Mr. Forkle said gently. “And not because I’m violating the rules of telepathy, in case you’re worried. The burden you’re carrying is written in every shadow on your face—and you must not blame yourself.”

Sophie forced herself to nod.

Guilt was dangerous for elves—almost as sanity-shattering as violence.

But it sure wasn’t easy to let go of.

“I want Mr. Tam home safely every bit as much as you do,” Mr. Forkle assured her. “As does the rest of the Black Swan. But that cannot be our only goal. So I need you to step back and remember what we’re fighting for.”

“What are we fighting for?” Sophie countered. “It feels like all we ever do is… try not to die—and sometimes we’re not even very good at that.”

Mr. Forkle looked away, blinking hard, and Sophie was sorry she’d brought up what had happened to his twin brother. But… if they didn’t change something, it was only a matter of time before they lost someone else.

“We’ve been playing defense for far too long,” he said, clearing the thickness from his throat. “And that is never a good way to win. That’s why I need you to look at the map again—truly look—and tell me what you see.”

Sophie dragged out her sigh and tilted her head, trying to guess what he expected her to say. “I see… a divided world.”

“An unevenly divided world,” Bo added.

He had a point. The elves had a bunch of huge cities—and that wasn’t counting their individual estates scattered all over the planet. Meanwhile, the other species seemed to be