by Ashia Monet
It’s s filmy excuse to get Blythe away from the wheel, but Blythe can’t do anything besides groan the whole walk to the passenger seat.
Judging from how she tears out of the parking lot and shoots down the street, Katia is a reckless driver.
Blythe can’t say she’s any better, so she starts looking through her backpack to make sure everything is in place. But her photo of her family, the one from Christmas, is gone.
Blythe didn’t move it. She hasn’t even touched it since she left yesterday morning. So where is it? How could it just disappear?
The van is moving faster now. And faster. And faster. Blythe’s gaze shoots to the speedometer. They’re pushing ninety MPH.
“Katia—?” she begins.
“Shush!” Katia orders.
Up ahead, racing closer, is a fork in the road. But Katia isn’t following its split to the left or to the right. She keeps the wheel locked straight ahead—they’re heading toward the forest of towering trees between the road.
Blythe’s heart leaps into her throat. “I hope this is some crazy magic shit because I really don’t want to die!”
“Don’t worry!” Katia hollers.
The speedometer needle climbs higher. The forest rushes toward them. Blythe screams as they burst into a mass of branches.
Twigs and foliage smack the windshield. The tires bounce and roll straight onto a patch of bright green grass—
Bright green grass? The grass in the local forests is the dullest shade of green imaginable. Blythe frowns, taking in the world around them.
A world of trees and dewy grass surrounds them, stretching on infinitely, to the horizon. Tree trunks the width of cars spread their moss-covered roots like spiderwebs across the ground.
A rainbow’s array of plants sparkle in the white sunlight, as if they are sculpted from diamonds. There is no mud, no cloudy skies and no drooping trees.
The air is sweet and the ground is soft beneath the tires. Everything hums with the same ethereal electricity that accompanies magic.
Katia smirks. “It’s totally some crazy magic shit.”
The grass parts like water beneath the van as it cruises. “What is this?” Blythe asks.
For some reason, this makes Katia wrinkle her nose. “What? Have you never even heard of the Tempore?”
Blythe has to think about how to say “no” without sounding like a whole dumbass. “…No,” she manages.
The van shrieks to a halt. Blythe didn’t think it was that serious, but Katia throws open the door and jumps out.
“Alright, class is in session,” Katia announces. “Follow me for a sec. Cordelia, you can come if you want.”
Cordelia is scrolling through her phone in the backset, legs crossed. “Absolutely not.”
Blythe hops out of the van and follows Katia’s black cloak through the trees. She doesn’t lead Blythe far, just through a few hanging branches and past a shimmering glade.
Katia stops before a chasm that yawns wide at their feet. The abyss extends so far below that its bottom is just a line of undefinable darkness.
“Whoa,” Blythe breathes.
Katia pulls a water bottle from the folds of her cloak. “Want a swig?”
Blythe chugs most of it—she hasn’t had anything to drink since last night—and hands it back.
She expects Katia to comment on it, but Katia just tosses the bottle into the chasm, watching blankly as it bounces off the walls, spewing water like a fountain.
Blythe doesn’t know what she’s supposed to learn from that. “Nice aim,” she comments.
Katia is unperturbed. “Thanks.”
A sound like crinkling paper thunders in the sky, the air heats, and something drops from above. Blythe jumps with a gasp.
Lying in the grass is the water bottle, completely filled with the cap screwed on tight.
“This place is called the Tempore,” Katia says. “It’s a forest that folds time and space. Usually it makes sense, but there are a few spots like this chasm where both time and space are…flawed. Best to stay away from them. Oh, and don’t drink that water. Thaumologists have yet to discern what these flawed areas do to the things they absorb.”
Blythe gapes. This is a time traveling forest, a place that doesn’t adhere to the laws of reality.
"You make a really stupid face whenever something blows your mind,” Katia points out.
Katia starts back toward the van without even waiting for Blythe to follow. Typical.
“Anyway,” Katia continues. “The Tempore is a natural landmass that existed long before magician governments did, but it belongs to the Black Veins now. It connects every forest and grove in the world, regardless of size. As long as a location has trees, the Tempore has access. You could walk from California to New York City in minutes as long as you know how to navigate correctly. Lucky for us, I know a lot about traveling the Tempore.”
Blythe hears her, sure, but what Blythe’s really thinking about is how she could use the Tempore to travel straight to Nevada. No more side streets and pit stops. She could be there within minutes.
“How did you learn about navigating in here?” Blythe asks.
“Studied it for a few years in college,” Katia answers.
Jesus. A few years. In college. Blythe can’t even think that far ahead into her future.
But it raises some interesting information about Katia. “Are you a thaumologist?” Blythe asks next. If Katia studied the Tempore in college, she probably went to a magician college. And most people who attend magician colleges end up as thaumologists.
“Me? Fuck no. I’d die if I had to sit inside for that long. Do I look like a nerdy scientist?” Katia jumps back into the van and slams the door, ending Blythe’s interrogation.
Well, it was useful while it lasted.
Blythe keeps thinking about the Tempore even as she buckles up. One thought makes her freeze. If the Tempore is mainly used to cross long distances in a short period of time…why the hell are they in it?
“Wait, where are we going?” Blythe asks.
Katia smirks her cutting, haughty smirk. “We’re going to a diner…” She whips around, her smile humongous. “In Montana!”
Her entire body shakes with laughter, sudden and strong. “Aaah, I kidnapped you,” Katia chuckles. “Wow, I am so good at this.”
“What?!” Blythe shrieks.
“Did you really…did you really think I was going to let you just…just decide if you wanted to go with us or not?!” Katia can barely speak through her cackles. “Oh my god this is so great, because you can’t even leave! We’re in the Tempore! You don’t even know how to get out! I got you and your ugly car! Oh MAN!”
Blythe can only stare at this woman, this stranger who has conned Blythe into coming along with her, stolen her van, and lied to her face.
Blythe thought…what? That Katia would actually give her a choice? How naive could Blythe be? She’s an idiot for ever trusting her.
Blythe’s family is waiting for her and she’s too dumb to even leave the state successfully.
Her eyes burn with tears. Katia’s laughter fades as Blythe slouches into her seat, staring hard out of the window to keep from breaking down.
“Aw, come on, don’t cry,” Katia sucks her teeth. “Crying kids make everything awkward.”
Blythe holds up her hand to shield her face. She hates crying in front of people. “I’m not crying,” she lies. The only sound in the van is Blythe trying to even her breathing before she really starts sobbing.
“Listen,” Katia begins. She sounds…solemn. “Do I look like I want to waste my time wrangling a bunch of random ass teenagers to escort them to Frost Glade? Do you think I don’t have something I’d rather be doing? The Trident Republic is trying to goad us into war and the Sages have me, one of their best advisors, on babysitting duty.
“I don’t care what you do. I care about my paycheck. And for me to get said paycheck, I need you to come with me. Last night, I called the Sages and
told them about your family. By now, they probably have a whole team of people out searching for them. They’ll find them. But until that happens, the Sages have declared your safety—and the safety of the other four Guardians—priority. So here we all fucking are.”
The engine starts with a growl. Katia’s gaze doesn’t waver from the road. She is here to do a job, and, judging by the set of her shoulders, nothing will get her to abandon it.
Blythe clenches her jaw. She can’t even escape; Katia has her van, which means she has all of her supplies—and the shard.
Blythe doesn’t know how to leave the Tempore. The layout of the trees would twist and turn her around. Knowing her luck, Blythe would probably fall into one of those damn chasms and get tossed out of the sky.
There is no way for her to fight, no way for her to escape.
Blythe is stuck.
Seven
Whatever magic broke Cordelia out of her mind control must also keep her from being tossed around by ridiculous driving.
She sits pretty in the backseat, even though Katia drives like she means to hit every uneven patch of ground in the forest. Blythe has to fight to keep her butt in her seat as the van charges between skyscraper-like trees.
An explosion in the distance steals Blythe’s attention. Cordelia’s too, apparently.
“What was that?” she asks, face pressed against the glass.
“Probably the Trident Republic trying to pull something,” Katia says. “I wouldn’t trust anything you hear. The Trident Republic has Fae on their side and the Fae are the fucking worst. You can never tell what’s real with them.”
The van hums as it picks up speed. Blythe narrows her eyes—if Katia truly isn’t worried, why is she rushing?
“The Trident Republic have men inside the Tempore?” Cordelia asks.
“Maybe,” Katia says.
“But the Tempore is Black Veins property, correct?”
“Yes.”
“So, isn’t this…an invasion?”
Katia makes a face. “Cordelia, did you miss the part where the Trident Republic is trying to start a war right now?”
Cordelia grimaces and sinks back against the seats. Blythe’s turn.
“The Black Veins and the Trident Republic aren’t already in a war?” Blythe asks.
“The Sages haven’t declared anything yet. The Trident Republic has been trying some shit, but the Black Veins is just squashing it down. Its defense, not retaliation. The Sages would only start a war if the Trident Republic proved to be a real threat. At the moment, they don’t have a strong government or military force. There’s not much they can actually do.”
“They almost got rid of three Guardians,” Cordelia scoffs.
Katia clenches the steering wheel with tight fists. “That was fighting dirty,” she snaps. “Cheating and strength are not the same thing.”
But Cordelia is unperturbed. She sits, chin in hand, as easily as if she were at a Sunday morning picnic. “If the Trident Republic isn’t a threat, why are the Sages sending all seven Guardians to the equivalent of a war bunker? We should be allowed to stay home—especially the other four who weren’t even mind controlled. This all seems very presumptuous—”
“Are you done?” Katia interrupts. “Because your cliché accent makes everything you say sound three times bitchier.”
Cordelia doesn’t even blink. “Good.”
Holy shit. Cordelia’s dangerous whenever she actually looks up from her phone.
Blythe looks back and forth between her and Katia. “Katia, you just got owned.”
“Real mature,” Katia snorts.
Cordelia leans forward, her hair swinging over her shoulder. “And earlier you said ‘the other four’. But, including this one and I, there’s seven Guardians in total.”
“My name’s Blythe, I…told you that…” Blythe’s voice trails off as she realizes Cordelia is not looking at her and definitely does not care.
She almost forgot Cordelia’s as rude as she is clever.
“Usually if something happens to one of you, it affects all of you,” Katia says. “You’re all Guardians, which means you’re pretty much all on the same level. But…the last Guardian isn’t a factor in all this.”
Cordelia rolls her eyes. “This makes absolutely no logical sense.”
Suddenly she leans back into her seat, snatches up her phone, and exits the conversation.
“Hey, it might help if you even knew what being a Guardian meant,” Katia snaps. She quickly glances to Blythe. “She didn’t know anything about magic when I picked her up a couple days ago. I’ve been explaining—”
Cordelia’s head snaps up. “Are you honestly telling my business to the whole world while I’m sat right here?”
Cordelia didn’t even know magic existed? She still managed to break free of the thing that plagued Blythe for days after it happened? And she can analyze the inconsistencies of this situation, inconsistencies that Blythe didn’t even think of?
Who is this girl?
Katia ignores her, smirking now that she’s finally grappled the upper-hand. “Just listen up, buttercup,” she says. “You too Blythe, if you don’t know already.”
Her explanation feels more like a ploy to get Cordelia to shut up than to actually educate them, but Blythe isn’t going to look a gift horse in the mouth.
She came with Katia to learn, and now that Blythe’s lost the opportunity to escape, she may as well pick up what she can.
“So. Magic, any form or type or shade of it, is just using energy to manipulate one or more of the seven Elements: Nature, Animals, Time, Death, the Body, the Mind, and Ether.”
As a child first discovering the existence of magic, Blythe started listing the places in the world where she could see the Elements in action. By now she has seen them all in various forms.
The Element of the Nature: quiet rain cried from the clouds, a bursting volcano, the chill of a breeze carried over a field of wheat.
The Element of Animals: a newborn bird’s first chirp, the hum of a thousand bees, the snapping teeth of a hungry wolf.
The Element of Time: history books heavy with memories of the past, a moment you wish you could remain in forever, alternate timelines reaching into worlds beyond.
The Element of the Body; a healing wound, a gentle kiss against the skin, every breath brought into your lungs.
The Element of the Mind: imagining worlds you have never seen, the joy of thinking of a clever joke, remembering the face of an old friend.
The Element of Death: the closing chapter of a life once lived, making space for life to begin yet again, the final, eternal rest.
And, finally, the Element of Ether: moonlight, black holes, the energy of light and the power of your determination, the stars that make up the universe yonder and the universe inside each of us. Life itself.
“Every magician is born with a single ability that forms during puberty, and this ability—their magic—allows them to manipulate one or more of the Elements. For example, someone could communicate with fish, which scholars would define as a manipulation of the Elements of Animals and the Mind. If someone can see visions of the future through the stars, scholars would call that a manipulation of Ether and Time.
“This singular ability is called Inherited Magic, because you’re born with it. All forms of magic require an energy source and Inherited Magic uses the energy of magicians’ own souls, but this rarely has any ill effects on the magician.”
Okay, Katia definitely went to a magician college and studied magic for a few years. No magician without a degree talks about magic like that—
Blythe almost flies forward as the van shrieks to a halt.
“Oh fucking finally,” Katia blurts. “We’re here.”
The forest around them doesn’t seem to be any different from the forest they’ve spent the last half hour traveling in, except for the fallen tree blocking the road.
Katia hops out as if it’s no big deal.
“Wh—
are we just going to leave the van here?!” Blythe calls after her.
“For now!” Katia replies.
This can’t be safe. Blythe takes the keys, just in case, and locks the doors after she and Cordelia are out. It’s still her van, and she’ll be damned if anything happens to her baby.
“What about my magic lesson?” Fake enthusiasm drips from Cordelia’s voice.
Katia waves a dismissive hand. “Read a textbook.”
She hops over the fallen tree with the grace of an athlete; Cordelia wrinkles her nose and walks around the edge.
Blythe grunts as she crawls over the trunk. “God, I hate nature,” she murmurs.
She looks up and almost takes back her words. Seven trees line their trail, trunks as huge as houses and roots snaking across the ground for miles.
They’ve grown far past the canopy of the other trees; if they have branches, the human eye will never glimpse them.
There seems to be no forest beyond their presence; darkness clogs the space between their trunks.Blythe looks over her shoulder at the fallen tree, but it isn’t a tree at all, just one of many gigantic roots.
Wherever Katia has taken them, it definitely holds some significance.
Katia’s headed for the darkness between their trunks, but the closer she gets, the larger they seem. “C’mon! Remember what I said about time not being on our side? First time I wasn’t being sarcastic!”
The ground quakes, shuddering through the tree branches. Katia freezes. Blythe holds her breath. Cordelia stops mid-step. But the forest is silent.
A mountainous feathered form throws itself between Katia and the girls. It lands with a force that makes Blythe stumble backward.
Cordelia screams as it moves, too large to see all of it at once. A pair of sharp talons flash against the grass. A wing splays, filling Blythe’s vision with slippery feathers the color of an oil spill.
A sharp, yellow beak opens above. Sunlight shimmers against something in its mouth as it caws, a noise that shakes Blythe’s bones.
“Cords, Blythe, stay where you are!” Katia screams.
Metal glints in the air before a knife stabs into the creature’s wing. It screeches, folding inward.
