Flashback ( PDFDrive )

TWENTY-TWO
KEEFE SANK ONTO THE NEAREST cot as a memory flashed to the
front of his mind—a scene so distorted that Sophie couldn’t tell what
she was supposed to be seeing.
Some parts were too dim and others were too bright, and there were
strange flickering gaps, like trying to watch a really old, scratched-up
piece of film with some of the frames missing. Even the soundtrack
was warped, with voices fading in and out.
But then the images sharpened, and she realized she was watching
Lady Gisela lean down and talk to a slightly younger version of Keefe,
both of them standing in front of a wall of bookshelves.
How old are you here? Sophie transmitted.
Keefe looked skinnier than she was used to, and his chin and
cheeks were rounder.
Eleven, I think? Or maybe ten?
You don’t know? Fitz asked.
Not yet. I can’t figure out where the memory’s supposed to fit. I guess
that’s what Tiergan meant when he was rambling about “mental ripples.”
You’re at Candleshade, though, right? Sophie recognized the study
area in Keefe’s bedroom.
Yep. I keep trying to see what books are on my shelves, since that’ll tell me
when this was. But the background’s too blurry.
Yeah, what’s up with that? Fitz asked.