Calling on my new magic, I reach out to Jack’s body. The process is as familiar to me as breathing, as familiar and easy as using my earth magic. Jack’s heartbeat is wild and arrhythmic, his pain overwhelming. The deeper inside him my magic travels, the more chaotic his body feels. I remember Lyon’s face when he took Michael’s magic . . . what Gaia told him.
You cannot be both a Season and Time. One draws its magic from chaos, the other from order. They are diametrically opposed. It would tear you to pieces.
Jack’s Winter magic screams out to mine, twisting inside him like an icy gale. I can feel it, fighting for space. Fighting for control. Can feel him suffering as the magic shears away his strength from the inside.
I stroke his cheek. What should I do, Jack?
The answer whispers inside me: I trust you.
A tear slides down my face as I glance up at Kai. She leans on Auggie’s arm, a hand clasped to her chest, her suffering written in the lines of her face.
Our friends all look to me, waiting.
But I know . . . I have to make the choice Jack would want me to make for him. Same as I did that day at the lake. Same as Jack did when he made the choice to pull me through the ley lines. Because in his heart, he knew I trusted him to make the right choice for all of us.
I turn to our friends, certain this is right. That this is what he would want for them. “Help me get him inside.”
60
And Lo, It Is Ended
FLEUR
Weak afternoon light filters around the drapes in Auggie’s spare bedroom. An antique clock ticks incessantly in the corner. Jack’s hardly stirred through the hourly chimes. I sit in a folding chair at his bedside, my hand on his chest and my forehead resting on his bare shoulder, fighting the urge to sleep.
Kai and Julio are bickering downstairs. Mostly about Jack. Julio’s scared Jack’s been asleep too long. That something’s wrong with him. Kai insists she’s seen Jack’s future and he’ll be fine—that he just needs time to rest and recover from the trauma and all his injuries. Julio was quick to remind her she inflicted the worst of them, making her an unreliable authority on the matter. I hesitated to leave them in the same room together, but Kai seemed certain Julio wouldn’t kill her, and I didn’t see much sense in arguing those odds with her. Apparently, Ananke’s magic has given her the gift of unerring foresight, a fact that she subtly enjoys rubbing in Julio’s face whenever he annoys her.
To appease my worry, Auggie and the others agreed to remain downstairs and keep the peace so I could stay up here with Jack.
I bury my head in his shoulder. The dull ache in my chest is becoming harder to ignore, the anxiety making it harder to breathe. My palm rests against his heart. This is all going to be new for both of us. I’m not even sure of the extent and scope of our power, or how it will work together. Kai says that when Jack wakes, he’ll be able to see the past clearly, that he’ll see all my memories and choices in my eyes—and that he’ll understand. For now, touching him doesn’t relieve the pain and pressure I’m carrying, and I can’t manipulate time. All I can do is be here when he wakes up and hope I made the right decision.
“Your hands are cold,” he murmurs.
I lift my head. His hand slides over mine, clammy and warm, but slightly less feverish, and a small smile teases the edge of his lips.
Suddenly, his chest stills.
His smile falls. My heart sinks as his eyes dart back and forth under their lids, and I know by the sudden spike of his heart rate that he’s remembering.
His head turns on the pillow. I force myself to meet his gaze as his lids flutter open. He reaches for me, his thumb brushing the skin under my eye.
“They’re weird, I know.” My face warms the longer he stares at them. I try to turn away, but he cups my cheek, gently turning me back to him.
“No, it’s just . . . I need a minute,” he says, coaxing my chin up. “I wasn’t sure I’d ever see you again. I just want to look at you.” His gray eyes dart back and forth between mine, as if he’s watching scenes from a movie play out in them.
“You gave me the magic,” he says. “The ice on my skin while I was on the bridge . . . It had nothing to do with the storm. When we kissed at the clock . . . you breathed it into me.”
I nod into his hand. “Kai knew there was magic in you. She smelled it in the alley, when she came out of Auggie’s house.”
“She called me ‘Winter.’ But that means . . .” He frowns as if he’s struggling to piece together what happened next.
I hold his hand to my cheek. His eyes lock on mine as I let my memories fill in the gaps for him, beginning with the moment I materialized in the stasis chamber in the back of the van. I show him how Julio and Amber had rallied the evacuated Seasons to aid his escape. How Lixue had been among them and offered to help when we weren’t sure he would make it past the bridge.
He swallows at my memory of his sleeping face, covered in frost, as blindingly beautiful as sunlight on snow in those moments before the extraction. Silent tears stream down my face as I remember it for him. How he’d bucked and cried out in his sleep as I’d drawn out his Winter magic. How he’d fallen silent after and didn’t wake up.
Kai had been awake during her own extraction. The smaze I drew from her lungs into mine had held a glimmer of Jack, but also pieces of Kai and her sister, and when I’d breathed it into a glass jar Auggie had brought for me, Kai had stopped me before I could seal the lid. She asked me to let it go. Together, we set it free.
But Jack’s . . .
“You held on to it,” he says, wiping a tear from my cheek.
It had only been a handful of sparks. But the weight of that decision had felt far greater. “I’m sorry,” I say through a shuddering breath. In the span of hours, I gave him his deepest desire and ripped it away again. “I had to take it from you. Kai said it would kill you if we didn’t. But I couldn’t release it yet. Not without asking you.”
He brushes a lock of hair from my eyes. “I’ve let it go. You should, too.”
“Are you sure?”
He nods, taking my hand. I draw a slow breath and let go. A silver tendril of magic spirals up from my lungs. The smaze is small, translucent and thin, having only lived in Jack for a short while, and I wonder if this one was any easier for him to part with. It hovers, circling the bed before dashing under the door.
The chatter ceases abruptly on the lower floor. Feet pound up the stairs, a flurry of movement and frantic voices. The bedroom door flies open.
Julio bursts in, carrying the staff in a ratty old oven mitt. “We saw the smaze. Is he awake?” Amber, Chill, Poppy, and Marie rush in after him.
Jack gives them a weary smile. “I’m awake.”
“It’s about time,” Julio sighs. “For Gaia’s sake, Sommers, we thought you were dying.”
“I told you he’d be fine.” Kai lingers in the hall, her crystalline eyes unreadable as they land on Jack.
Jack gestures to her face. “No patch? How’d you manage that?”
“I guess Ananke was happy to have her eye back. No more curse,” she says with a shy shrug.
There’s a simmering tension between Kai and . . . well, everyone. If we hadn’t all seen what she did—saving Jack’s life, giving him the staff, standing stubbornly by his side through the extraction of his magic—I’m not sure any of us would have been inclined to let her stay. But something tells me the tension has nothing to do with us, and everything to do with her newfound sight. As much as she boasted about her power with Julio, she’s wary of looking at us. Careful when she speaks. As if she’s afraid to get too close or say too much. Even to Auggie.
Julio chucks Jack’s sore shoulder, making him wince, before holding out the staff to him. “Just for the record, Sommers, I’m not calling you His Majesty, Chronos, His Excellency, or Dad. So don’t let this thing go to your head, or I might be forced to remind you of your humble roots.”
Jack’s laugh relieves the last of the pressure I’ve b
een holding. “Got it,” he says. “No honorifics.” His brows grow heavy as he looks at the scythe. He starts to reach for it, then changes his mind. “Put it in the umbrella stand over there for me, will you?”
Julio frowns. “Sure, okay.” The others exchange concerned looks as Julio sets the staff in the stand and strips off the oven mitt. The scythe looks a little like a stage prop, and yet not completely out of place in this room full of antiques.
Auggie edges his way inside the room. “Not to be the bearer of bad news, but there is quite a lot of work to do—Seasons to rehome, storms to settle, an Observatory to salvage—so as soon as you feel up to it, we should probably all discuss how to proceed.”
“Gaia, Chronos, and Ananke,” Jack whispers. “I don’t even know where to start.” He rubs his eyes, already looking overwhelmed.
“I sent out a radio transmission to the four portals this morning, informing the Guards there’s a new Chronos,” Auggie explains.
“How did they take the news?” Jack asks.
“Remarkably well. It seems Doug didn’t earn much loyalty during his short tenure. They’re relieved, I think, that their new Chronos is someone Lyon chose—and trusted—to be his successor.”
Jack’s throat bobs at that. I rest my hand on his, giving it a reassuring squeeze. I’m not sure if it’s grief over Lyon’s death or worry over the professor’s enormous expectations of him that seems to be stuck in Jack’s throat. His voice is thick when he asks, “What about the evacuated Seasons?”
“The portals have been directed to provide shelter to as many displaced Seasons as they can find here in the city, and they’re to send global updates through any open, secure channels to those abroad. They’re soliciting volunteers and relocating willing Seasons to storm-ravaged areas and regions in need. They’re awaiting further instructions from you . . . Chronos,” he adds delicately.
Jack starts to sit up. I push him back down by the shoulders, saying, “We’ll be down in a few minutes, Auggie.” I give them all a pointed look. One by one, they slip from the room. Kai’s the last to go.
“How much time do we have?” I whisper to her as she leaves.
“Fifteen minutes won’t harm anything.” Kai’s smile is wry as she pulls the door shut.
I can already see Jack’s mind working. Worrying. Bits and pieces of complex plans falling into place. “Relax,” I say, climbing onto the bed. I rest my head on my hand and stretch out alongside him. “Kai says it’s all going to be fine.”
“How?” His frown is riddled with doubt.
“She won’t tell me. But there’s no sense arguing with Inevitability. Or with me.” I curl into his side and lay my head on his chest.
His laugh rumbles under me as I trace lazy, lacy patterns over his skin. It’s warm, the lingering scent of Winter so faint I have to breathe deeply to find it. “Are you okay?” I ask, wondering if he misses the cold. If his new magic will ever feel like a fit. The beat of his heart is steady and strong, keeping time with the clock in the corner.
“I’m okay.” He tips up my chin. “I’m more worried about you.”
I know what he’s asking. In my eyes a moment ago, he didn’t just see the memories I showed him. He saw everything. Every fight, every conversation, every trauma I sustained while I was Doug’s prisoner.
“I’m okay.”
“You couldn’t have saved him,” he says quietly. “It was never your responsibility to fix him. He made his own choices. He knew the cost.”
“I know.” And yet, I still feel his loss in ways I don’t think I entirely grasp yet.
“Fleur, I know . . .” He pauses, choosing his words carefully. “I know you never intended to come back to the Observatory. That you probably never would have if Doug hadn’t forced you to come. I know you wanted things to stay like they were, but . . .”
“You don’t have to say it,” I say, resting my chin on his chest. “Things are different now. We have a responsibility.” To the Observatory. To all the displaced Seasons. To our friends. We can’t go back to the villa. Not now. Not yet. Maybe not ever.
I lift my head and look him in the eyes, so he can see that I’d made this choice already on my own. Before I knew Gaia and Lyon intended this exact outcome for us. Before the power was ever ours, when everything seemed hopeless. I knew I would take Gaia’s magic even if it meant losing my freedom. “Someone had to rise up and take responsibility for the future. It might as well be us.”
He cups my cheek, pressing a soft, reverent kiss to my lips. “You’re amazing, you know that?”
“We should go,” I say, tempted to deepen it and stay hidden in the crook of his arm for the rest of our immortal lives. “We have a world to save.” The thought is more than a little terrifying.
“We have time.”
“Says who?” I tease.
He grins against my lips. Rolls me over him and pins me to the bed, trailing kisses down my neck. “Says me.”
I erupt in a fit of giggles. “I think the power’s already going to your head.”
“Only because you gave it to me.”
We both start at a persistent thump, like a broom handle pounding against the ceiling downstairs. Julio’s voice booms through the floor. “Get down here, asshole. We’ve already got a million fires to put out.”
Jack plants a kiss on the tip of my nose. With a sigh, he sits up and reaches for the staff in the umbrella stand.
61
All the Difference
One Month Later
JACK
Glass clinks, a pile of glittering shards collecting in the dustpan as I sweep them from the rug. Some are thick and curved, remnants of the orb Lyon smashed when he freed my smaze. Others are thin and flat, pieces of the framed poster I shattered to find Lyon’s last letter.
Amber offered to send a custodial crew to handle it for me. But the thought of sending a cleaning crew, or even using a vacuum in this room, seemed wrong—the noise, the speed, the distant efficiency of it—like something Lyon wouldn’t do. Lyon believed in doing the work. He believed in quietly and thoughtfully sweeping your problems toward you. That the simple act of kneeling to scoop up your own mess and discarding the broken pieces could be a lesson in itself. Everything was a lesson to Lyon. And even after a month as Chronos, I still have so much to learn.
It was hard to unlock his office door and step into this space a month ago. Seeing it this way, remembering Lyon was gone for good, had cracked something inside me all over again. But as I turn over a chair and set it on its feet, sliding the drawers back inside his desk and straightening his blotter, I’m not surprised to realize he’s right. The simple act of picking up his office sweeps the dust and sharp edges from my memories of him, making the space he takes up inside me feel less broken and easier to spend time in.
I drop slowly into his office chair, taking in the view from this side of the desk and wishing I didn’t have to. I would give anything to sit opposite him one more time, to tell him what all his lessons—even the painful ones—meant to me. If my new role has taught me anything, it’s that there is no going back. All we can do is remember our lessons, try to learn from them, and move forward.
I check my watch. The broad platinum band and face match the color and finish of the Staff of Time from which it was made. Not long after I’d inherited it, I hired a retired Summer to melt it down. A watchmaker’s apprentice in his former human life, he molded the ore and built the wristwatch precisely to my specifications. The image of a lion is etched on the back. A small diamond rests on the tip of the hour hand, another on the minute hand, and icons representing each of the four Seasons are embedded at the four cardinal points of the dial.
The rest of the staff was melted down for placards memorializing friends we’ve lost along the way: one for Lyon and Gaia, one for Woody, one for Noelle, and even ones for Lixue, Boreas, and Névé.
I scoop Lyon’s scattered books from the floor and lay them on the desk, pausing over his tattered copy of Aesop’s Fab
les. The illustrations bring a smile to my face as I remember the first time I saw him carrying it, when he found me breaking into the Hall of Records, searching for a way to save Fleur.
I turn to the last page, surprised to find an ornate iron key taped to the inside cover. It’s rustic and old, with complex filigree around the handle and large square teeth. I pry it from the tape and set the book down to study the key more closely. The patterns aren’t any ordinary filigree . . . they’re the tangled roots of a tree. The shape matches the carving on the ironwood doors to the Hall of Records downstairs—the Tree of Knowledge.
And I know, without a doubt, Lyon left this key for me.
I finish tidying up. As I look back at his office, I send up a wish for Lyon and Gaia, that they’re together out there in the universe somewhere. I turn off the lights and pull the door closed, locking the office behind me.
Seasons, Handlers, and staff pause in their work to greet me as I walk by. I don’t correct them when they call me Chronos anymore. The effort to blend in was pointless. Even though I don’t wear a suit or carry a scythe, they all refuse to call me Jack. If anything, Fleur says the absence of the scythe and my willingness to swing a hammer alongside them has earned their respect, and this is simply how they show it. But if anything, I look up to them. Fleur and I had little choice but to stay. And there were plenty of Seasons, Handlers, and staff who decided not to, choosing instead to forge their own paths.
I slap hands with a familiar Winter as I pass through the open port into the Crux. The plexiglass barriers were the first demolition project we tackled. The completion of the task was celebrated with music, dancing, torchlight, and cake, and the party lasted for hours. When we woke the next day, we started our first addition to the Observatory—a memorial wall encircling the Crux, listing the names of every Season, Handler, and staff member who perished in the storms and quakes.
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