Sophie missed Keefe.
Part of her didn't want to admit that to herself, but there it was, and she'd have to deal with it sooner or later. He always had a way of making responsibility seem less scary—like it didn't matter whether or not one fulfilled it, even though it did.
After Hylda's words and seeing her statue in Maryntrilla, she needed him more than ever.
Guilt gnawed at her empty stomach, but she focused on her appetite suppression training to stave off the hunger—and distract herself from the memory of their fight. At least body temperature regulation wasn't necessary; Marella had made a campfire as they waited for the morning, when one of Dimitar's ogres would bring them Markchains so they could enter Ravagog. Technically, they could have stayed the night at Empress Pernille's palace, but Sophie wanted to talk with the ogre king as soon as possible.
At least, that was what she'd told Tam and Marella. The truth was, she didn't quite trust Pernille—not after their previous alliance and now with Marella too. Marella had relayed a lot of her conversation with the trollish leader, and from what Sophie heard, she was worried the empress had taken advantage of Marella's "emotional state" by providing an ultimatum: accept the alliance or receive no help. It was like a threat—and Sophie got that Pernille felt the need to do that, especially after the Trollish Hive Scandal. But something about it made her wary.
"Welp—I've discovered another thing I missed out on the Great Exillium Adventures: how to not die of starvation!" Marella chirped—too happily. Sophie sensed hurt behind the sarcastic facade, but she didn't know how or if she should bring it up.
"I can teach you if you want," offered Tam, but Marella only grew colder.
"Whatever."
Tam's shadows elongated, but he reigned them in before Sophie had to get involved. "I'm going to go collect more firewood," he muttered, traipsing into the black.
Marella laid back, cushioning her head with her arms, and Sophie sighed. "You two should really figure things out, you know. It does no one any good to fight."
"Wow, free Sophie-wisdom. I'll keep that in mind."
"I'm sorry, okay?" Sophie said, a little louder than she meant to. "I shouldn't have forced you and Tam to work together, especially since I knew you guys didn't get along. I thought maybe this trip would change things, but evidently not, and now I've learned my lesson! Is that what you want to hear? That I know I'm wrong? That I know I'm not perfect? And I don't want to be, Marella, not perfect or special or anything."
She stopped, and her laboured breathing accompanied the crackling of the fire until Marella said, softly, "I didn't mean to say those things in Loamnore. And... I'm sorry too."
Sophie was surprised that the simplicity of that statement was enough, and all the tension she hadn't realized she'd been feeling seeped away.
"You're not a bad leader, Sophie. It was actually really smart to choose Tam and I. The Collective needs to be... well, collective, and we were holding us all back."
"So you've talked things out?" Sophie asked, trying to not feel hopeful.
"Not really? I mean, we sort of had a chat about things in Loamnore, but it ended badly. Which... was actually my fault, so... I should probably be the one to apologize. Again."
"You're not the only one doing things wrong," Sophie said in an attempt to provide relief, but it ended up coming out the wrong way. "I mean—not that you're doing things wrong—"
"Except I am," Marella said drily, but she turned her face away to hide a smile. "You may continue."
"I'm just saying, I haven't been upfront with you—or Tam for that matter. I brought you on this trip without telling you where I'm at—and that was wrong of me. Lately it's like... I dunno, it's like I'm being pressured to choose between the humans or the elves, and everyone who disagrees with me is taking the side I'm not on."
Marella propped herself up and looked Sophie in the eyes. "And what side are you on?"
Sophie pinched the bridge of her nose. "I don't know—none of them? Both of them? If that's even possible."
"Well... I don't really think it's about taking sides. I think there are extremists who will do that, but then there are the middle-roaders, who kind of... float."
"'Float'?"
"Yeah, like in the space between one decision and the other. That can be you."
"Floating," Sophie murmured to herself, testing the idea out loud. "It sounds nice—but I don't think the Moonlark is allowed to float."
"Who cares what you're 'allowed' to do? I mean, who says so—the Moonlark? And that's you, so maybe you're the one holding yourself back."
Sophie sighed, lying down herself and watching the smoke curl upward to meet the stars. In her small world, she was allowed to glimpse a sliver of the universe, and it was beautiful. If she could, she'd float in it forever.
Marella was right—who cared what she did or didn't do? They were her choices to make.
But a leader couldn't make choices just for themselves. It was the nature of being responsible for the well-being of others. It was about being the Moonlark.
Because she had two options: float, and be a citizen; or choose, and be who she was made to be.
____________________
Sophie was awoken by snuffling noises. Her head felt like a leaden weight, indicating she'd only received four or five hours of sleep. The sun, green-tinged over the land of Serenvale, had barely begun to rise.
She sat up and saw Tam and Marella stirring, then spotted the ogre shuffling toward their campsite. The familiar scowl and dragging gait of her former bodyguard had Sophie wide awake, and she sprung up. "Bo!"
"Yo?" Marella murmured in her sleep, then giggled. Tam was already sitting up, and he scowled a scowl that could rival Bo's before sending a stray shadow for her face. As soon as it touched her, she jerked up. "YO!"
Bo had stopped and looked over each of them before muttering, "This is going to be a waste of time."
Sophie frowned. Bo was King Dimitar's right-hand man—if he was this pessimistic, did that mean Dimitar had little expectations for this meeting?
"Here are your Markchains," Bo grumbled, tossing them the pendants. He lumbered back from where he came. "Follow me if you're still deluding yourselves this is a good idea."
"What's that supposed to mean?" Sophie asked, jogging to catch up to him. "Why are you being so cold? Years of being stuck with Ro, is it?" She nudged him, but he only grunted. "I thought you two were getting along now."
"This isn't about Romhilda. This is about my king, who's starting to think this is a mistake."
"Oh really? And does that have to do anything with Queen Hylda's acceptance of our proposal?" When Bo didn't answer, Sophie threw her arms into the air. "Come on! Why can't the ogres and goblins get over their differences?"
"The flippance of the elves doesn't help."
Sophie huffed and slowed down, walking in line with Marella now. At least we know what we're going into, she transmitted to her and Tam. I don't expect Dimitar will be too receptive to what we have to say.
That didn't mean she was giving up, though—they still had the cooperation of the goblins and trolls, plus independent dwarves. As long as King Dimitar left them alone, they'd do the same to him—which was what she suspected he truly wanted. After the past decade, Ravagog had been through some major changes. It took societies a long time to rebuild from that.
The thought still brought upon an ache of guilt. Was it the Black Swan's fault that Dimitar wouldn't help them, since they'd destroyed his capital seven years ago? There was no way they could have known the consequences would reach this far down the road, but still—they'd known there would be consequences.
It had to be done to save the gnomes, she reminded herself. Sometimes tough decisions had to be made, even if they'd bring pain upon you later. Looking ahead was to be prepared, but doing things now was being active. They'd had no choice.
Still, as Bo led the trio under the craggly arch of the ogre capital, Sophie couldn't help remembering Linh's wave, demolishing the gate that used to be here. Then, there had been a river they'd ridden to escape—but now there was only a dry rut in the ground.
"What happened to the water?" she asked.
"My king had his workers get rid of the river," Bo said gruffly, as if he was angry at their incompetence. "After what Miss Song did—"
"Her name's Linh," Tam snapped, "and she wasn't the only one. We all had a part in that—because 'your king' was about to wipe out the gnomish species."
"I remember that," murmured Marella. "Everyone celebrated you guys for weeks—called you heroes."
Bo snorted. "Not everyone does. Ask a person about history, and you'll hear different sides. Around here your names are accompanied with—" He said a phrase in Ogreish, something even Sophie's Polyglot abilities couldn't decipher—but she assumed it was a curse.
No one said anything after that. Sophie was focusing intently on her feet as he led them on a ledge of the cliff parallel to the now-empty valley. The path twisted, and she got her first glimpse of the bridge spanning across the mountains. To their left was the ogre workplace, somewhere Sophie did not want to be when it wasn't naptime. To the right was what looked like a stack of pancakes carved into the rock, and on the top a tiny speck.
Dimitar's playa—and throne.
"We're going to the Triad?" she said, trying to stop the flood of memories that resurfaced: Keefe's act, the fake cure, the destruction and then Alvar's betrayal.
Ravagog had been their last stop on the mission for strategic purposes; Dimitar was the one in the first place who'd threatened war, so it made sense to see where the other intelligent leaders were at before approaching him. But there was another reason Sophie had wanted to save the ogres for last: she'd been procrastinating the memories she would face. Loamnore had been bad enough, but there was a different fear in the not-knowing—and back then they'd hardly understood anything.
Not to mention her last trip to see the king. Keefe had nearly gotten himself killed, and while Sophie's photographic memory usually didn't apply to feelings, she could taste the terror and fury she'd experienced. Even those labels didn't quite apply to the emotional trauma she'd undergone—and sometimes it was hard to forget the things her boyfriend had put her through.
But that wasn't fair to him, because she'd done things to hurt him too. That was a part of growing and learning, and at the end of the day she wouldn't take back those arguments for anything—because they'd made them who they were, and she loved them, her and Keefe together. She loved him, and sometimes that meant forgiveness.
"You, um, okay?" Marella asked, nudging Sophie's arm.
She startled, realizing her eyes had started to well, and gave Marella a grateful smile. "Yeah, I'm fine."
Sophie vowed to apologize to Keefe as soon as she returned to the Lost Cities. Marella had been brave enough, so she could too.
Bo grunted something that sounded like "emotional teenage girls" before trudging on. Sophie started to point out she wasn't a teenager anymore, but then figured he didn't care. So she followed him down the path and onto the bridge, which had been remodeled to be larger and sturdier, with carvings in the jagged arches depicting... suffering elves? Sophie was pretty sure one of them was her.
"Not creepy at all," Marella muttered, picking up her pace.
They started to climb the various levels of the ogre kingdom—although Sophie knew there were dozens, if not hundreds, of hidden caves and rooms inside the mountains. Before they ascended the rest of the steps, Bo stopped them.
"I'm going to walk fast, and you three are going to keep up," he ordered. "Try to be as unnoticeable as possible."
Marella made a face. "Why?"
"Because if your friends here are spotted, you might not make it back to your pretty homes."
It took Sophie's brain a second to register what that meant. "Wait, you're saying the ogres will attack us?" She hadn't realized the tensions were that bad.
"My king may suffer your sparkly foolishness, but the people have buried families. All because of the elvin celebrity—the Moonlark. You."
Sophie's stomach dropped. "B-but you were my bodyguard. If the ogres hate me, why would you protect me?"
"My king ordered it. Whatever he says, I obey."
"Yeah, I got that vibe," Marella deadpanned.
"Should I use my shadows to help mask us?" Tam offered. Marella shot him a look, but he didn't meet her gaze.
Bo bared his teeth. "You think hiding will make the ogres feel any better? Elvin abilities aren't allowed here." He eyed Tam's shadowflux, but didn't say anything else before motioning for them to follow him.
Sophie's legs felt like noodles as they trekked across the platform, where ogres of all shapes and sizes were bartering for food and supplies. Almost everyone they passed stopped and stared, but thankfully none of them got violent.
The rest of the levels were the same—even the empty ones, Bo sped through. Sophie was out of breath—and had tripped at least seven times—by the time they reached the final crag sticking out over the canyon. It was triangular shaped, and at the point farthest from their entry was Dimitar's throne. His back was to Sophie, but she saw his arm resting on the stone, nails drumming an eerie tune.
Bo shoved Sophie forward, and she nearly face-planted from the sheer strength of the ogre. Marella helped her right herself, and they all bowed.
"Miss Foster," came Dimitar's scratchy voice. Click-tap-tap-tap. "You stand in the very place that boy did, once, when you plotted to trick me and destroy my capital."
Nice to see you too, Sophie thought, but bit her lip. Snark probably wasn't the best way to approach this meeting.
Marella didn't seem to get the hint, though, because she rolled her eyes and said, "Really? Why is that such a big deal? I mean, it was, what, seven years ago? I thought the ogres were over this."
Tam groaned softly, and Dimitar's nails stopped clacking. Sophie felt the urge to be angry, but... Marella had a point. It wasn't like Ravagog was still squandering in the wreckage they had left it in all that time ago.
"That's not what this is about, is it?" she asked, stepping forward. It felt almost disrespectful to talk to the back of the ogre king's throne, but perhaps he was making a point. He didn't care enough to give her his full attention.
Well. She'd make him care.
"You're only trying to justify why you won't listen to us," she pushed on. "Did you tell Bo to scare us into thinking the ogres would attack us because of the past, all to sell this—frankly pathetic—excuse?"
There was a low whistle, and an ogre Sophie had previously thought was one of Dimitar's guards stepped forward, flipping her neon-green ponytail. "I'm away for five years, and this is our reunion? Who are you and what happened to innocent, oblivious Sophie Foster?"
"Ro," Tam moaned at the same time Sophie exclaimed, "Ro!"
"This isn't the time for reunions," Bo growled.
Ro blew a raspberry at him. "Boring."
"Rebellious."
"Loser."
"I beat you at our last sparring session!" Bo spluttered.
"Enough!" Dimitar roared, sweeping around his throne. The ogre couple shut up. "Botros is right; this is not a reunion, is it, Miss Foster? Or should I call you the Moonlark?"
Sophie stiffened at the title. Another one from a similar conversation returned to her: Matrarn.
The goblins now look to you. Lead us into a new age.
At the time, the words had come with overwhelming pressure to do things right. The goblins were behind her, and Hylda expected the Moonlark to guide them to... something.
That was the thing, though—what was the "new age"? Obviously there was no way to predict the future, but there were still goals Sophie had, goals she knew the elves shared. First of all, there would be reintegrating the humans back into their lives. That had been the idea for years now, but then the Purities had arisen and... and Sophie was asking the intelligent species for help.
The humans had been the subject of controversy across the species—but all of those concerns could be fixed if everyone came together. That was what Sophie was asking of these leaders; not to let the elves do their own thing, but to be a part of something much bigger than just the elves, or the humans, or anyone else. It was unity—and maybe that was the only way they achieved peace. Maybe that was the only way they achieved anything.
It was togetherness that solved problems, not one person's idea at the expense of another's. It wasn't elves versus humans—she'd been seeing this all wrong. Sophie had always thought her purpose as the Moonlark was to save the elvin world from the Neverseen, or save the human world from the Purities... but what if it was more than that? What if it was bringing the two worlds together? What if that was the only way to rebuild? And along with those worlds, combine all the species.
And... if that's true, she thought slowly, then... I've been doing my job the entire time.
She'd been conflicted, and that had hindered her ability as a leader. But now she understood. Everything she'd been doing, everything she was going to do... the end goal wasn't about saving the day. It was about the long term goal. And if she didn't save the day today, there would always be tomorrow. Maybe then, she'd have more people on her side.
Because the Moonlark was never meant to be the hero. She was meant to nurture everyone else to be heroes. To inspire them to take up the gauntlet and fight for what was right.
That was her purpose. That was her duty.
"I am the Moonlark," she finally said, meeting Dimitar's steely gaze. "I am also Matrarn of the goblins." At this, multiple ogres visibly sneered. "I'm here to give you a chance—a chance to be a part of something incredible. A chance to rebuild our world. And this world is changing, King Dimitar. To ignore that is to be left behind. Is that what you want?"
The Triad was silent for a moment, and then Dimitar laughed, a full-body chuckle that sounded unnatural coming from him. "Was that petty speech supposed to impress me? Maybe you were right; the flood is not my concern anymore, nor is it my people's. But what is my concern is the humans. The problems they present, and the problems they inevitably will present, are astounding evidence that your Council puts aside sense for the whims of a child.
"Do you want to know why my people hate you? It's not because you saved the gnomes; it's because you lord over your leaders, convincing them to do this and that, all for the sake of... what? Change? It would be quite adorable, really, but you seem serious."
"I am serious! You have a problem with the humans? Fix it! And I don't mean go to war with them, or kill a bunch of them off, or whatever. I mean a real solution! You sit in your caves and pretend you're so much better than everyone else, but you don't do anything. You're a pathetic leader, Dimitar, because you're only considering yourself. You want to keep control by seeding prejudice in your people, warding them away from new ideas and other peoples. But when you isolate yourself, don't be surprised when you become weak."
"Weak!" Dimitar wheezed. "My weakest ogre is still stronger than your most powerful elf!"
Sophie shook her head. "I get it—you're angry. Angry that things aren't going your way, and scrambling to find something to hold onto. You want things to be the same, and even though you know deep down what we're doing might make the world better, you're afraid. Because there is no certainty. The Human Reinstatement Program could be an epic disaster, and guess what? You'd be right. But is being right worth it when you don't even try?"
Ro stepped up again. "For the record, I agree—and I don't say that because I love Sophie—she's way too oblivious to earn my appreciation—or because I love the elves—their sparkles and incessant habit of taking votes is equivalent to watching amoebas grow. But, Daddy, you sent me to the Lost Cities because you wanted to give the elves a chance. While I was there, I suffered the whole We-Are-So-Superior-Because-We-Save-The-Earth-And-Have-Shiny-Hair complex... but I also grew to care about some of them. I realized they're worthy of life, just like we are, with complicated brains and feelings and personalities. In some ways they're just like us—and in many they're not. But the beauty of life isn't about one people, completely the same; it's about many peoples who use their similarities to overcome their differences."
"Huh," Tam said. "Didn't know you were capable of one of those lengthy elvin speeches you're always complaining about."
Ro thrust a pointy, ice-blue fingernail at him. "Shut it, Emo."
Sophie was too concerned about Dimitar's answer to give the two much thought. She studied the king's face, which... was the same as it had always been. Lumpy, ugly, impassive. His yellow earring swung like a pendulum as he paced. Finally he said, "I'll think about your proposal."
"'Think'?" Marella whined.
Sophie kicked her. "That's good. Actually, that's great. Thank you—you won't regret it."
"I think he will," Bo mumbled behind her.
Sophie gritted her teeth, but a soft ringing prevented her from saying anything stupid. She bent down to dig around in her pocket and pulled out her Imparter. The name read: COUNCILLOR BRONTE.
"Sorry, I have to get this," she said, moving off to the side for some privacy before accepting the call. The familiar, pointy-eared face of one of her most supportive Councillors flicked on. "Hello?"
"Miss Foster," said Bronte, exhaling in what seemed like relief. "I'm glad I got a hold of you. I know you're on your mission—"
"Yeah, we're currently at Ravagog."
Bronte's face flickered with something unreadable. "Actually... that does not matter right now. We need you back at the Lost Cities. The Purities are attacking Everfalls."
"What? Isn't that Maruca's estate?"
"Yes." He turned the screen around so she could see the homey mansion. He must have been there already. "Can you see enough to Teleport?"
"Yes—yeah. I'm coming. But why Everfalls?"
"I'll explain everything once you get here. But hurry, Sophie—before it's too late."
His image clicked off, leaving her mind empty as it caught up to what was happening. "I have to go," she said, spinning to Marella and Tam. "But I need you two to wait here for Dimitar's answer."
"Go?" Marella repeated. "Go where? Why?"
"Everfalls is being attacked by the Purities. I don't know why, but they need me."
"The Purities are attacking?" Dimitar clarified. "Interesting."
"Don't you see what we're up against? Now's your chance to help us," she said, giving him one last chance.
"I won't risk my warriors' lives in a trivial battle. Regardless of my final decision, you will go alone."
She held back a frustrated scream as she walked to the ledge of the Triad. Technically she could Teleport simply by running—but there wasn't the right distance for her to gain enough momentum.
Looked like she'd be doing this the old-fashioned way.
Marella jogged over to her before she jumped off. "Hey—you sure you don't want me to come?"
"I'm sorry for leaving you with Tam, but two of us need to be here."
"Yeah... that's not what I meant, though. Are you sure you're ready? To, you know... be this?" She gestured up and down Sophie, as if words couldn't express what she was trying to say.
Or maybe she was hesitant to use the exact term. "You mean being the Moonlark?"
"Uh... yeah."
Sophie looked down, down, down. It was a long distance to fall, and she was a small thing trying to make a difference.
But that was all one person could do: try. And even if she failed, at least she could say she'd put an effort in.
"Yes, Marella," she said, standing a little taller. "I'm ready."
And then she jumped.