Legacy (Keeper of the Lost Cities #8) - Shannon Messenger Page 0,56

and her stomach dropped into her toes—which, she was stunned to realize, were no longer touching the floor.

“Why are we weightless?” she asked, trying to wrap her brain around the strange physics of their situation. By all counts, gravity should be pushing down against their upward momentum, shouldn’t it?

“The Paragon is actually spinning really fast,” Councillor Terik told her, swinging his prosthetic leg—which moved so much smoother when it wasn’t having to support his weight. “So fast that your eyes can’t see it. That’s why it’s best to keep them open—your brain believes the illusion and doesn’t let your body feel the effects of the motion.”

All Sophie could say was, “Oh.”

And she had to force herself to stop thinking about it, because the more she tried to picture how fast they had to be spinning in order for any of that to be remotely possible, the closer she came to throwing up—and vomiting in a small, spinning room filled with sixteen other people could quickly reach nightmare levels of grossness.

“Shouldn’t we be slowing down?” Biana asked, her voice calmer than the question probably should’ve merited. “We must be near the top of one of the towers by now.”

“We are,” Emery agreed. “Which is why we need more speed.”

All twelve of the Councillors pressed the bits of their golden key-pins again, and a tiny whimper slipped through Sophie’s lips as another rumble rocked the room and made her feet drift farther off the floor. She was pretty sure she now understood how Charlie would’ve felt in Mr. Wonka’s Great Glass Elevator as he hurtled toward the ceiling of the chocolate factory. And she couldn’t help imagining all of them getting cut to ribbons as they crashed through the roof of the diamond palace.

But there was no collision—no shower of jagged shards or fiery explosion.

Just a much louder rumble as the Paragon flooded with shimmering light, which Sophie assumed meant they’d somehow left the Seat of Eminence and were now flying over Eternalia. There was no way she was looking down to verify—not that she expected to be able to see through all the glittering facets of the spinning diamond stones. But on the off chance that she could… ignorance was better.

“Where exactly are we going?” Dex asked, shielding his eyes from the glare.

“To the Point of Purity for the Prime Sources,” Emery told him, and Sophie was glad she wasn’t the only one staring at him like he’d answered the question in a different language.

“Honestly,” Bronte scoffed, “what is Foxfire teaching these days?”

Councillor Alina rested her hands on her hips. “Don’t look at me—the Council set the curriculum, not the principal.”

“And yet you haven’t made any corrections—or even any suggestions—now that you’ve been appointed to our ranks,” Bronte noted.

Alina rolled her eyes. “Yes, I’ve been a little busy cleaning up all the messes I inherited from the rest of you.”

“The Prime Sources,” Emery cut in, before any of the other Councillors could turn Alina’s dig into an argument, “are sunlight, moonlight, and starlight.”

“So… we’re going into space right now,” Sophie clarified, really hoping she was wrong about that. The elves had pulled off some amazing feats—but space travel in an oversize diamond hamster ball?

Without even giving them special suits to make sure they’d be able to breathe?

Or seat belts?

Or anything?

“Not quite,” Oralie assured her. “The Point of Purity is a very specific spot in our atmosphere, where we can access the purest version of each type of light without any contamination or filtering. We should be there any second.”

Except they weren’t.

Five hundred and twenty-nine seconds later they were still climbing—and yes, Sophie counted. It was the only way to stop herself from thinking about how impossibly high they must be. And from wondering how they were ever going to get back down safely. And from noticing how stuffy it was getting inside the Paragon, thanks to all the bodies and the sunlight. The sweat trickling down her back felt like ants crawling on her skin.

Around the seven-hundred-second mark, the light shifted, fading from warm yellow to a soft blue, and Sophie was too relieved by the rush of cool air to wonder what that meant. She didn’t even care when cool turned to cold. Or when cold turned to shivering. She just wrapped her cape tighter around herself and watched her breath puff out in tiny clouds, relieved to finally not feel like she was slowly melting away.

“Brace yourselves,” Emery warned again—not that there was anything to grab ahold of. And