Wildest Dreams - Chapter 1 - theunmappedstar - Keeper of the Lost Cities Series (2024)

KEEFE MADE A SOFT SOUND, close to a snore mixed with a snort, causing Sophie to squeak in surprise. She nearly dropped her pencil by jolting her legs and she had to grasp down immediately to ensure her notebook didn’t slide from her lap.

Sandor and Flori all perked up at the scuffle, staring at Sophie from the wall across the room. Ro had honed in on the sound as well, pausing in picking under her nails in a bored manner with one of her many shiny daggers.

Sophie looked over at Keefe in a light alarm. Her heart battered in her chest as she tried to listen for any other noises he was making. If he made any other noise after that, though, it was drowned out by the insistent pounding in her ears.

Sophie released the breath she’d been holding. She shot a hesitant thumbs up at her bodyguards once she knew Keefe was fine.

Fine. The word bounced around the cavern of her head.

Keefe wasn’t fine. The better word would be undisturbed. Keefe was far from fine, given that he was in a coma.

Sophie’s stomach churned at the bitter reminder of why she was in the Healing Center.

It had been two weeks since the events in Loamnore had unfolded, and the thought of what had happened still kicked Sophie in the gut every time she had to see Keefe’s sweaty form crumpled in the Healing Center cot. She had since made it a point to visit him once every morning and every evening, even staying the night with him when her schedule allowed it.

At first she’d fought to stay glued to his side, but she had been quickly reminded of the dreaded deal she’d made with Oralie to help the Councillor figure out the situation with her cache. And how she needed to investigate Glimmer further, then follow up with how Tam and Linh were doing. And how she was technically the leader of a team which she technically had to keep in order. . .

She had finally caved after three days of her bodyguards fighting to convince her that she had done enough and needed a break. Ro had even joined in, promising she could handle Keefe on her own.

She leapt home to take a long, steamy shower before busying herself with Regent assignments and hailing Dex for a two-hour-long conversation about how caches functioned until she found the time to stumble back to the Healing Center, half-asleep.

Keefe had been. . . pretty unresponsive over the two weeks. It was good, she supposed, that he often made tiny noises or twitched. She couldn’t handle having to sit with him if he weren’t so life-like. She was sure her brain would think he was dead.

And that was something she never wanted to have the burden of imagining, much less living through.

Sophie looked over to the edge of her cot to peer at the slip of paper she’d set there, hoping to distract herself from those dark thoughts. The paper had a schedule scrawled on it, which she’d created for herself. She glanced back at the clock on the wall to check the time.

Sophie had refused to let Elwin brush her off, demanding she get to help Keefe in some way with his recovery. Elwin had attempted to explain the work that went into it, saying she should be focusing on something more productive than wasting time sitting in the Healing Center. He claimed that he, Livvy, and Ro had Keefe’s situation and protection under full control, and while Sophie didn’t doubt that Keefe was in good hands, she was desperate to have something to do.

Some part of her probably felt like she owed it to Keefe, after everything he’d endured and stuck through for her, but another part of her simply yearned to be by his side. She didn’t know why, but she couldn’t get the thought of him out of her head, no matter what she tried to occupy herself with.

There was no way she could be distracted from his unavoidable truth.

So, from the minute Elwin granted her wish, she had been almost inseparable from Keefe.

Elwin and Livvy focused on the most important (or intimate) things, like Keefe’s hygiene (which involved things like dental cleaning and sponge baths) and his medicine. But Sophie got to do some important things, too, like having a shift where she got to watch over him herself, or little chores where she would periodically help him change positions in the cot so that he didn’t develop any bed sores.

She was due to help him resettle any minute, so she decided it was best to wrap up the overdue homework she was grappling with.

That was when she noticed a change in Keefe’s typically steady breathing pattern.

It was an odd sound, something plush and frumpy-like, with air to it — like laundry on a line, battering itself in the wind. In alarm, Sophie whipped her head over to the source, which turned out to be Keefe on his cot.

“Elwin!” Sophie shouted, bolting up from her bed. Her notebook flew out of her lap, sliding across the floor under Keefe’s cot. Sophie didn’t pay any attention to it, though, eyes wide and terrified as she grasped onto Keefe’s shoulders, trying to keep him steady. “Elwin!”

Even if he got it and understood it, he wouldn’t stop shaking erratically in Sophie’s arms.

Elwin burst into the room, his disheveled hair matching his alarmed expression. “What’s going on?!” He ran to Keefe’s other side, and when Ro tried to join him, he ordered her to stay back. It was more bark-like than intended, and Ro was left snarling as Elwin began snapping his fingers, swiftly creating orbs around Keefe’s shuddering form.

“I don’t know what happened!” Sophie cried, chest snapping tight as she looked at Keefe. Her eyes began to water with her revving panic. “One minute he was laying there and then this started happening!”

Elwin continued to inspect Keefe speedily through his spectacles before turning to Sophie. “I think you should hail Mr. Forkle. And we’ll need Tam here, too. But first I’m going to need you to help me with getting him to swallow some medicine.”

Elwin shuffled back into the room he had come from in a hurry, and Sophie whirled to run after him, halting in the doorway to watch him shuffle through a wall of vials. “Why? What’s happening?!”

Elwin’s reply knocked the air from her lungs. “I don’t know for sure, but it looks similar to what happened when your echoes stirred.”

Sophie sucked in a sharp breath, hand crawling over her heart as Elwin dashed back to Keefe’s bedside. “It has to do with shadows? Or shadowflux?”

“Tilt his head back, and hold his mouth open,” Elwin ordered, disregarding her question as his hands fumbled to uncork the glass vial. Sophie grabbed Keefe’s jaw with her fingers as gently as she could, mentally apologizing as she tilted his head back and forced his mouth open.

Elwin poured the shimmering gold liquid into his mouth leisurely, taking time to let Keefe swallow the tiny amounts before the whole elixir was eventually gone. A little trail made its way down Keefe’s chin as she closed his mouth and she wiped it away with her sleeve, focusing on taking deep breaths when the seizing didn’t stop.

“Is he going to be okay?”

“It should help him to stop. It might take a little bit.”

Elwin had to practically pry Sophie away from him after that, raising his voice at her to get her attention. She was half-listening though, eyes blurred with tears as he ordered her to hail Mr. Forkle and Tam.

Ro and her own bodyguards were trying to comfort her as they ushered her out of the room. She almost couldn't make herself turn away from Keefe, taking steps backwards as she watched him through teary eyes. Sandor put his meaty hand softly over her shaking shoulder before she crashed into the door, turning her around and escorting her outside.

On her way out, Sophie caught sight of Bullhorn snuggled into his tiny bed against the wall. She tried to grip onto that mental image as she grasped in her pockets for her Imparter, getting ready to hail Mr. Forkle.

Sophie waited a few seconds for Sandor to close the door and take his position along the hallway before she ordered the hail into the Imparter. Sophie was resisting the urge to tug and pull and fidget with everything. She ripped out a loose eyelash for good measure.

Mr Forkle picked up within a few dial tones. When his face filled the screen, Sophie saw that he was in his pudgy disguise. She could practically smell the ruckleberries. “Miss Foster, is everything—”

“Keefe’s having seizures,” Sophie blurted. “We need you and Tam to come to the Healing Center. Elwin says it looks a lot like what happened with Fitz and my echoes.”

Mr Forkle’s eyes flew open, looking stunned. He caught the ball of information being flung at his head with swift reflexes, focusing on the task at hand. He calmly moved forward to the next question, asking, “He’s alright?”

“Not really,” Sophie revealed, chewing on her lip.

“And Mr. Sencen isn’t awake?”

Sophie confessed a disheartened, “No.” Even though she was well aware of it, saying it aloud made her heart sink like a stone. Maybe it was selfish of her, but she wished that with all the ruckus and commotion, he would have found some way to force himself awake.

Mr. Forkle was pacing on the other end of the call. His brow was knit and eyes downcast as he muttered to himself, half in thought. Finally, he announced, “I’ll hail Mr. Tam and Mr. Vacker. We’ll arrive shortly.”

“Wait, what?” Sophie halted, her pulse faltering. “Why do we need Fitz?”

“As much as I hate to suggest it, Miss Foster, it could be something mental. And I’m very aware of how well you and Mr. Vacker work together.”

Hearing the possibility of something being damaged in Keefe’s head made Sophie’s stomach queasy. The Fitz comment had the same effect.

Sophie wanted to argue that that was before they’d endured a rocky split. Since then they’d been working on repatching their friendship, and it was going a lot smoother than Sophie had anticipated, but she’d yet to work on an official telepathy assignment with Fitz again, and she wasn’t sure where he stood on working with something so critical by her side, again. He’d been fine with trust exercises, though, so Sophie had to hope that if it came down to it, he would be willing to work with her to help Keefe.

○

KEEFE WAS STILL lightly quivering when Tam, Fitz, and Mr. Forkle arrived at Foxfire, entering the Healing Center.

The bulk of it had crested already, thankfully, and it was clear that the medicine had begun to set into his system because his thrashing limbs had turned to miniature twitches.

Tam and Fitz raced over to both sides of Keefe’s cot instantly, taking in the sight of their ill friend as Elwin brought them up to speed on what had happened, how quickly Keefe’s vitals had tanked, and how it seemed to have something to do with shadows. Sophie and Fitz had shared a brief look at the mention of their echoes as Tam rubbed his arms, rolling up his sleeves in preparation.

Mr. Forkle and Elwin stood at the foot of the bed as Tam set to work on trying to read Keefe’s shadows, while Sophie and Fitz stood next to each other, waiting in anticipation. Sophie kept her eyes glued on Keefe’s forehead, watching the way his brow which twisted and flicked, an occasional v forming between his eyebrows. If Sophie hadn’t known what had happened to Keefe, she would have thought he was sleeping.

Sophie tried to ignore the way Tam’s shadow shifted over Keefe, slinking along the length of his trembling body. She pushed away from the mental image of Keefe being consumed by shadowflux, the pooling substance acting all too animal-like as it slithered its way up his limbs, surrounding his torso, stretching towards his mouth—

No. No, she had to focus on the positive things. Like how Keefe’s vitals had been holding steady after their brief downturn, how his nightmares had ceased, how his heartbeat had continued to thump with its regular, strong pattern.

Still, Sophie’s mouth ran dry when Tam's shadow pulled back. His hands were shaking with effort. His forehead was glistening with a light sheen of sweat that Sophie hadn't even noticed had formed. His face looked haunted. "It's. . . a mess.”

"What?" Sophie asked, needing clarification. "What do you mean it's a mess?" Her eyes darted back and forth from Keefe's twitching form to Tam's glazed eyes.

"His shadow balance. . . It's all over. It's fluctuating in his brain, like crazy. It's as if. . ."

"It's as if what?" Fitz prodded, looking just as concerned as Sophie. She stared at Keefe, face crushed with lines of worry as she sent out a silent plea to the universe that he would be alright.

"He's. . ." Tam stole a look at everyone in the room, glancing at Mr. Forkle, who was surprisingly silent as he stood. Elwin was beside him, looking like it was taking every cell in his body to restrain himself from giving Keefe a sedative.

Tam swallowed, shaking his bangs out of his eyes. "He's fighting the change. Gisela talked about it a little while I was. . . There." He cut himself off.

Sophie's voice grew involuntarily hushed. "What does that. . . mean?" She waited for Tam to meet her wide eyes before she risked another glance back at Keefe. "Tam, what does that mean?"

Tam ran a stressed hand through his hair again. "I don't know for sure. It was just a bunch of theories she had about how it could go wrong. If Keefe rejects the transformation, which it looks like he is, then she said he'd. . . 'Stay dormant.'"

"Dormant." Sophie gave a barked, bitter laugh. "So much for not treating her son like an experiment."

No one knew how to respond to it. Fitz placed a comforting hand on Sophie's arm, and she was more than grateful for the gesture. But she didn't have the time to thank him for it.

Fitz seemed to be aware of that, too, saying, "What does she mean by dormant?"

Tam bit the inside of his cheek, messing with his sleeves. "I'd assume it means that he'd. . . stay like this. Stay asleep until he's ready to accept what's happening with his body."

"Embrace the change," Sophie repeated in a murmur. She ran a hand down her face. "So, he needs to. . . Allow his body to. . . Change like. . . This . . . Before he can wake up?" The disgust in her voice was heavy.

"I believe," Mr. Forkle announced from the end of the cot, getting their attention, "that Mr. Tam is referring to a mental phenomenon. It's simply a theory for the time being, but it sounds very similar to a state of comatose in which the. . . Patient's consciousness flees to a state of hallucinations and dreams. Think of it as a dreamland that he has retreated to; it's a form of denial, or a way of coping with what is to come. It is possible that his mind has cocooned itself to stay safe from the reality he refuses to face."

Sophie tried not to imagine what other words Mr. Forkle had been going to use to replace 'patient'. But her mind still stretched to wrap around the word victim. "So, he's just dreaming?"

She’d been monitoring the activity in his mind for two weeks, and the only time she’d seen him dreaming was once, right after she carried him from Loamnore to the Healing Center. That could barely even be called a dream, though. It had been more of a twisted nightmare. With cookies.

"It is usually not flat dreams, Miss Foster. He has some control over these; free will, if you may. The dreamland is specifically tailored to each individual who is stuck inside. Whether it be their view of the world, or their goals and wants, the mind makes the host cling to it for protection. It is not easy to wake an individual up from this state — if Mr. Sencen is truly in one of these dreams, it is because he wants to stay there."

Sophie didn't know what to do with all of that information. It felt like a big bulging suitcase that she didn't even want to begin to unpack. "Keefe's consciously fighting this? Because he knows what will happen if he gives in like his Mom wants?"

"He rejected it by choice, yes," Mr. Forkle agreed. "But if he's stuck in a hallucination or a dream, he won't be aware of why he's there. Again, it's all apart of the mind shrouding what it does not wish to return to. Think of it as an alternate reality."

"He has no idea he's in a coma right now," Sophie whispered. Her eyebrows laced together on her forehead as she looked down at him, frowning softly.

She bit the inside of her lip, reaching forward to brush some of the sweaty strands of hair from Keefe's face. She didn't care that it was maybe too affectionate of a gesture to put on display for everyone else in the room, because if what Mr. Forkle was saying was true. . . If Keefe had put himself in a dream-state on an endless loop, just to prevent himself from waking up to face his legacy. . .

"We can wake him up, right?" Fitz asked. Sophie could imagine his Adam's apple bobbing as his voice wobbled lightly. It was good to know she wasn't the only one freaking out over the stakes of the situation, but it also made her chest tighten at how it made it clear this was something to be worried over.

Her eyes burned as she faced Mr. Forkle. "There has to be some way we can get him out of it."

"And we can work together," Fitz added, and his voice sounded like it had some hope tucked behind it. Sophie tried not to let it lift her heart too much, though, because Mr. Forkle still had yet to form an answer for them.

Mr. Forkle looked like he was contemplating what to say. "It's not impossible," he concurred. "But it's difficult. Mr. Sencen doesn't want to wake up, so not only will you have to make him aware, but you'll have to convince him to come back and to — as his mother phrased it — embrace this change."

"We can do it," Sophie promised without missing a beat. "I can—"

Fitz grabbed her wrist as she went to slide her fingers over Keefe's temples. Sophie narrowed her eyes at him in confusion, eyebrows crashing together, and when she turned, Mr. Forkle was still looking at her intently.

"It will take a large toll on you, Miss Foster. And you have gotten much less rest, recently, than I would prefer."

"I agree with that," Elwin added, causing Sophie to glare at him. "He’s right, Sophie," Elwin admitted gently. "You're running yourself too hard. You lead a team during the day, spread yourself over thousands of projects, and then come here and barely get a sold five hours of sleep every night."

"I take power naps," Sophie grumbled, wishing Fitz and Tam didn't look like they agreed with the adults. She blushed in shame.

Tam fidgeted with his sleeves some more. Sophie's eyes flicked to it, and it made her stomach churn, knowing she'd never witnessed Tam putting his anxieties on display in that way before. Usually, it was a tiny brush of his bangs or a wave of his hands. "If Keefe is stuck in this dream state. . . Shouldn't we try to get him out of it as soon as possible?"

Fitz nodded. "It seems like the longer he's in it, the more attached he'd become to that alternate-reality."

"Or the more real he'd believe it was, if he's not even aware that it's not real," Tam included.

Mr. Forkle sighed as Elwin mumbled something about 'getting sedatives just in case' and disappeared into his office. "Mr. Sencen can wait a couple of hours if it means your performance would improve by—"

"I have Fitz," Sophie argued. "He can give me boosts of energy when I need them."

"I can," Fitz acknowledged, bobbing his dark head. "And I can stop her if she pushes herself too hard." Mr Forkle didn't look convinced, so he added, "I can stay connected to Sophie's mind to monitor how she's doing — that'd keep her safer."

"He'll pull me out if I'm too hard on myself," Sophie promised. Both Telepaths locked eyes and nodded at each other to confirm the forming plan before turning to Mr. Forkle.

Elwin returned to his side at the end of the bed, then, hands filled with three colourful emergency vials. Sophie didn’t want to know what they were for, why Elwin thought he might need them, or why they were blazing neon.

Mr Forkle seemed tired as he released another sigh. “It’s just not that uncomplicated, Miss Foster. Even with Mr. Vacker to aid you, it may not be enough.”

“Why?” Sophie had to ask. “The longer we leave Keefe like that, the higher the risk he’ll stay like this.” She gestured wildly to his crippling state.

A frown curled Mr. Forkle’s lips. He stalked to Tam’s side of the bed, and Tam scooted aside as the currently-pudgy Black Swan leader studied Keefe from head to toe, as if searching for any injuries. Keefe’s shaking had subsided, decreasing to a few jolts of his leg or flicks of his hand here and there. He was as pale as the cot.

Mr. Forkle’s eyebrows knitted together in solemn sympathy. “You only get so much time, I’m afraid. It will take a few minutes, but once his mind recognizes it has an intruder in its dream mechanism, it will shut you out. It will not allow the individual to awaken.”

The room went silent. The only thing audible was the occasional whine or hum or whimper from Keefe, or the rustle of the bedsheets as he kicked. Or Ro cursing under her breath in her language.

Sophie swallowed, eyes burning.

One shot. She would only get one shot to save Keefe, and she had a time limit, too.

“His mind can’t put up barriers strong enough to block Sophie, though, right?” Tam asked suddenly.

“That’s right!” Ro exclaimed, clapping her hands together. “Blondie has Grade A DNA!”

Her heart swelled with white-hot hope as she flashed her gaze to meet her creator’s. Yes. Yes. One good reason for tweaked genes!

But her heart plummeted at the same pace when Mr. Forkle made aware, “That may be true, but just because she can re-enter does not mean his mind will truly accept her: and it definitely will not begin to consider her coaxing. It will not pay mind to any disruption after the first try.”

Sophie reverted back to sulking. Her shoulders drooped at how blunt Mr. Forkle was and how high the stakes were continuing to rise.

“Hey,” Fitz murmured, nudging Sophie after she fell silent. He waited until she lifted her head to look at him with reluctance before he filled her mind with his voice.

“Ugh, none of that staring into each other’s eyes stuff,” Ro groaned from the corner, earning her glares from Sandor and Flori. Fitz blushed.

Mr. Forkle cleared his throat. “I’m assuming the smiles mean you’ve reached a conclusion?” he queried. He had one eyebrow raised as he looked at the two of them in suspense.

Sophie swallowed after she felt Fitz’s warm consciousness drift out of her own, and she turned to the sound of Mr. Forkle’s voice. She was proud that her voice held steady as she confessed, “I think. . . I want to be spontaneous.”

Sandor snorted from the corner of the room. Sophie heard him grumble something about the last time she had been spontaneous, and she tried to blot it out, knowing he was just concerned for her and her friends’ safety. Even if it was the first sound he’d made the entire day they’d been there, she didn’t want to think about his contribution.

Tam shifted to sitting on a nearby cot as Sophie and Fitz moved to new positions on the same side of the bed. Fitz squatted next to Sophie, and because he was tall, the top of his head was level with her stomach. Sophie herself had curled herself on the edge of the bed, right next to Keefe’s torso. She wiped the new glistening sweat off his forehead before digging inside her heart for the switch to turn on her enhancing. When she found the familiar string in her chest, she imagined plucking it like a guitar string, and soon she felt the familiar thrum of energy in fingertips as she intertwined her hand with Fitz’s. They winced from the jolt, taking a few seconds to adjust to the power sizzling between them.

“I’ll monitor you and Mr. Vacker if I see anything that draws my attention.”

That was very broad, but Sophie chose not to point it out. Specifically when Elwin piped up.

“I’ll be on standby for medical emergencies,” the physician promised. “And I’d like to check Mr. Sencen’s vitals periodically throughout this.”

“I can try to help him balance his shadows, too,” Tam offered, shifting his eyes to Mr. Forkle. Sophie was surprised when he agreed with the idea.

Then they all shared looks for a moment. Sophie blew out a steady breath as she checked to make sure Fitz was ready. A few hesitant nods later, and she was squeezing Fitz’s hand as tight as the first time they’d met. She was left to stare at Keefe’s blank face.

He’s calm. That’s why he’s not moving. It’s a good thing, she tried to convince herself. Still, she hated the way she couldn’t do something as simple as strike up a conversation with him.