Seasons of Chaos

by Elle Cosimano

  I take the elevator down to the Admin level. The doors open to the ever-present drone of drills, saws, and hammers, but the place is coming together day by day. Auggie’s row house has been converted into a construction management office, where he facilitates our external processes with human vendors, bankers, and shipping companies. We’ve depended on our retired staff members—who look old enough to pass as contractors—to handle our supply runs, rent construction equipment, and sign off on deliveries to our warehouses up top, while Fleur and I are coordinating the restoration efforts down here.

  I weave around a set of tall ladders in the gallery. Craning my neck, I find a team of Seasons and Handlers repainting the fresco that was damaged in the quake. I can’t help but notice that the faces of Chronos, Ananke, and Gaia look a little like me, Kai, and Fleur. The Seasons on the ladders grin mischievously down at me, paint smeared on their smocks and their faces. I shake my head and smile back at them. I’m going to have a hell of a time convincing Julio this wasn’t my idea.

  Maybe he won’t notice. He and Marie spend most of their time supervising the training and orientation program for new Seasons. Handlers who lost their Seasons during the storms have been given the option to become Seasons and be assigned regions of their own. Marie was reluctant about the idea at first, but Chill was adamant that it could work. Already familiar with our world and their roles, the new Seasons were quick to adapt and eager for the opportunity to live part of the year up top.

  Meanwhile, Amber’s taken charge of the new Guard, whose primary responsibility is the health and welfare of Seasons and Handlers worldwide. Poppy manages Season Relations, and Chill’s become acting director of IT. Together with Amber, they track the flow of Seasons in and out of the Observatory, scheduling peaceful handoffs between them and arranging transport home when their time is up. Chill’s team monitors the freed Seasons who chose to live up top, deploying an emergency response team to handle compliance issues as they arise.

  It’s not all sunshine and roses. There are squabbles from time to time, and even with all our collective magic, we can’t avoid every storm. But we face them down together, as a community. As a family. Cleaning up our own aftermath is all part of the growth.

  No one argued when Fleur and I gave Poppy and Chill the keys to Doug’s suite. Amber, Julio, and Marie were happy to knock out a few walls between a couple of dorm rooms, which they’ve converted into a two-bedroom apartment. Fleur and I offered to help Kai do the same, but she was content to move quietly into her old dorm room. With the exception of a few classes she teaches for Julio, she spends most of her time looking into the future, identifying humans who will eventually choose to become Seasons. Poppy uses the information to organize Fleur’s travel itinerary, making sure she arrives at the precise moment of the human’s untimely demise, and then arranging for the new Season to be escorted safely home.

  Fleur and I settled into Gaia’s old apartment; Fleur couldn’t bring herself to move into Doug’s. She doesn’t talk much about what happened between them, but occasionally, when she needs to share the burden of things that are too difficult to say out loud, she’ll show me flickers of her memories. One in particular haunts her more than the others—the face of a boy Doug killed who Fleur had tried to save by turning him into a Season. We managed to find his stasis chamber, buried below the rubble. Abandoned during the evacuation, the chamber had lost power. The boy hadn’t survived, and his magic escaped through a crack in the dome.

  The walls around me narrow to torchlit tunnels as I descend them into the ancient passages below the west wing. The hum of a generator grows louder ahead, until I’m standing in front of the doors to the Hall of Records. The security panel beside it is dark. The key card system was disabled—the second demolition project after we dismantled the gates in the Crux.

  I pull open the Tree of Knowledge and am greeted by a rush of musty memories. Motion sensors trigger the lights. They roll on, room by room, letting me know I’m alone as I walk by the glass display cases of ancient scrolls and leather-bound tomes. I pause in front of a heavy steel door.

  The iron clanks quietly as I slide Lyon’s key into the lock. The hinges creak, and a chain of lights flickers on as I push the door open. I draw in a surprised breath at the size of this room. The restricted section, containing the history books Michael forbid us to read, was off-limits to Seasons when I lived here before. There doesn’t seem to be an end to the rows of dust-coated manuals and texts. No end to the shelves and display cases containing antique machines and ancient inventions.

  I tip my head, reading the spines of the books, too afraid to touch them for fear of degrading the delicate parchment. The entire library seems to be ordered chronologically, and I find the volume—the very same volume I was searching for when Lyon caught me sneaking through the stacks in the main room of the Hall.

  The History of Natural Order Volume 121 stands out a bit from the other volumes, misaligned from the other neatly shelved spines, as if it was put back in haste. As I pluck it from the shelf, a folded letter slips from its pages. My throat tightens as I recognize Lyon’s familiar loopy scrawl.

  Jack,

  I hope that the fact that you’re reading this letter means the worst has already passed and you and Fleur are both recovering from your ordeal.

  You once sought this particular volume, if memory serves me. At the time, I could not share it with you. For great leaders do not come to greatness by traversing an easy path. They forge it themselves, suffering losses, pain, and triumphs along the way. You have earned the title. It was an honor and a privilege to hold the mantle for a short time, until you were ready to take it.

  You are no longer a thief of knowledge here. You hold the key. You own this knowledge now, and with it, the power to grant or deny access to it. A leader who rises on footholds of ignorance never climbs very far. I trust you and Fleur will make thoughtful, balanced choices.

  By now, you are probably wondering, what is the power of Chronos? The heart of Chronos’s power doesn’t lie in the blade of the scythe. It lies in the sharpness of the minds of those who wield it. The power lies in the wisdom it grants you, not to see the future and find the easy path, but in the lessons learned in hindsight. You alone have the power to stop time, not because it grants you control over others, but so you may hold control over yourself. The magic grants you time to think—detached from the actions and influences of others—before making the difficult choices you’re responsible for making now.

  The magic of Time may feel insignificant when held up to others, but it’s more powerful than you may yet realize. You possess the gift of life lived in the moment, the power to pause and see the beauty and wonder all around you, so you may better remember who you serve and why. And in those frozen solitary moments, it serves to remind you that even the greatest of rulers can only truly move forward and effect change in the world in synchronicity with those around us. This lesson—the lesson of companionship and trust—I derived great joy in watching you master. It is, perhaps, the greatest gift I could have given you. And it is the reason I felt ready to hand over my staff to you, by way of Doug, and to move forward into the next cycle of my life. We are both only changed from one form to another. . . .

  With this key and my blessings, I leave you to your kingdom, and to Fleur. May you serve it well together.

  With pride in all I’ve seen in you—both past and future,

  Daniel Lyon

  PS—This room has been neglected and would benefit from a full-time curator. I believe you may already know a person well-suited for the job.

  A smile chases away the lump in my throat. I pull my phone from my pocket and click through my contacts. Auggie’s voice mail picks up.

  “Hey, Auggie, It’s Jack. Give me a call when you get a chance. I’ve got a project I could use an expert’s help with.” As I disconnect, I can’t help admiring how perfectly Lyon’s plans always seem to fall into place, even in his absence.

  I tuck the boo
k under my arm, leaving the door to the restricted room wide open when I leave. The lights turn off on their own as I exit the room, the same way they’ll turn on again for the next Season who comes here looking for answers.

  62

  And We Moved on

  FLEUR

  Jack’s late for dinner. Kai assures me he’s on his way and will be here before the evening’s entertainment is over. Like every night, the dining hall is full to the brim, every Season, Handler, and staff member packed into one room, the clatter of trays and silverware and chatter almost deafening. A snowball soars over our table, catching Julio in the shoulder as he stuffs the last of his garlic bread into his mouth. His head snaps up, a scowl on his face, until the chanting starts.

  “Ju-li-oh! Ju-li-oh! Ju-li-oh!” Soon, everyone in the room is shouting his name, pounding their forks on the tables. A blush burns his cheeks as he reaches for his new guitar—a shiny, full-bodied acoustic Amber bought him a few weeks after they settled in here.

  The hall goes wild, clapping and shouting his name. A group of Autumns in the back wave tiny flames above their heads. Among them, I recognize the couple Doug nearly ran over with the car. Coral, the Summer girl who’d been wearing the blue sweater, curls under Rusty’s arm, laughing as he waves a flame above her head. A few Springs, Winters, and Summers join in with lighters. Holly, the Observatory’s oldest and most beloved cafeteria attendant, dims every overhead light but one.

  Julio tunes his strings as he walks to a stool set under the spotlight. Poppy elbows Amber in the ribs as Julio teases out the opening chords to one of her favorite songs. Marie cups a hand over her mouth and shouts for Julio to get on with the damn show already, her lighter held high over her head.

  My gaze keeps returning to the door. I hate that Jack’s missing this. After the long days of hard work—after the calluses and sawdust, the aching muscles and paint-splotched clothes—we all look forward to the hour after dinner. It’s a lesson the seven of us have carried with us since our time on the run: a little laughter, a song, a hot meal shared with friends—it’s the best medicine for a battle-weary soul.

  Funny, if you’d asked me a year ago if I could ever imagine myself returning here, I’d have told you I’d rather die. Now I can’t imagine living anyplace else. Not because of where we are, but because of the people I share this new life with. I feel them—every soul inside this room is part of me, connected to me, means something to me. They are all a piece of me, and I of them, and I know now what I was never entirely certain of when I made the decision to remain here—that I would lay down my life for every single one of them. In their faces, I see the seven of us as we were. I see who they are yet to become. And that vision of the future sustains me.

  A draft blows past my neck and circles my ankles. I turn to see Jack ducking in the door, hoping to go unnoticed.

  Julio uses a break between songs to take a sip from his water bottle. He spots Jack slipping stealthily past the tables, and his eyes twinkle with mischief when he shouts, “Give it up for your Chronos, everybody!”

  Seasons call out and wave to Jack, beckoning him to their tables. He smiles, waves, and makes a beeline straight for the shelter of the food line. Julio steals back the spotlight, strumming the intro to one of his favorite tunes, encouraging everyone to sing along.

  Halfway through the song, Jack appears beside me carrying a tray full of salad and pasta. He plants a kiss on my cheek and takes a seat across from Kai. As he settles, he catches her eye. They exchange a prolonged glance that steals the smile from Jack’s face, and she promptly turns away.

  I rest my hand on his knee, raising an eyebrow. He gives my hand a squeeze, as if to say he’ll explain later. I don’t push, content to let him tear into a mound of spaghetti while the rest of us celebrate the end of another day.

  Just another meal at home with close friends and found families.

  JACK

  Kai emerges from the Blackheath tunnel just south of Greenwich Park right after dinner. She gives me a crooked smile, the silver aviator sunglasses she wears to conceal her eyes reflecting mine.

  “I thought you couldn’t read the future,” she says.

  “I can’t.” The evening is balmy and cool as the sun slips lower in the dusky sky. I tuck my hands in my pockets, matching her leisurely stride toward the duck pond.

  “Then how’d you know I’d be here?” she asks, raising a skeptical eyebrow.

  “You made the decision to leave days ago.” The grass is still damp, littered with fallen limbs. The persistent storms finally cleared last week, and cleanup has been ongoing throughout London. “And don’t pretend you’re surprised to see me.”

  She grins at that. “Were you spying on me?” She hitches her backpack higher on her shoulder as I trail her through the park. It’s strange to see her carrying something other than her bow on her back. But I guess it’s hard to board an airplane with one.

  “I wasn’t spying,” I say defensively. It’s mostly true, but I haven’t gotten the knack of my sight yet, and sometimes I see things I don’t intend to. Like when I saw Kai at dinner an hour ago. She’d glanced up as I sat down at the cafeteria table opposite her and in her eyes, I saw the plane ticket she purchased online last week. One way, to New Zealand, departing tonight. “You don’t have to leave, you know. We all want you to stay. Even Julio,” I tease her.

  “I know,” she says, one side of her mouth quirking up. “He doesn’t know it yet, but he’s going to miss me when I’m gone. You can tell him I said so.” We walk in companionable silence past the pond.

  “I left you all the names and dates, enough to keep Fleur busy for a few months,” she says. “You’ll be fine without me for a while.” Her lips purse, as if she’s holding something back. I know better than to ask her why. Kai’s guarded with her sight, careful not to overshare. If she doesn’t want to elaborate, she has her reasons. And I’ve decided we’re all probably better off not knowing our futures. Which makes me wonder if this is why she’s chosen to leave.

  I take her gently by the elbow, pulling her up short. “Look. Before you go, there’s something I need to—”

  “I already know,” she says, her sigh heavy, her smile a little melancholy.

  “Right.” I rest my hands on my hips, squinting against the low sun as I stare out at the park, trying to figure out what to say. It’s hard to look Inevitability in the eyes and ask it for a second chance.

  “I’ve already forgiven you,” she says. “And you’ve already forgiven me. You know that.”

  “Still, I should have told you about Névé. We both should have. Lyon and I had no right to keep that from you.” Maybe Kai has forgiven me, but I still haven’t forgiven myself for that.

  “Maybe.” She shrugs. “Maybe Lyon should have told me when I woke up. But then what? Would I have gone to Mexico to help you or to kill you? Or maybe you should have told me in the tunnels when you figured out who Ruby was. If you had, what would I have done?” She arches an eyebrow. “I think now maybe I understand why he didn’t always tell us everything.”

  She pushes her sunglasses higher on her nose, looking past me at the long stretches of grass as if she’s trying to figure out how to explain. “I can’t stay, Jack. Lyon was right to cover the eye. To separate it from the staff. You and Fleur are better off not knowing the future. You deserve to live in the moment and make your own choices without that burden.”

  “Does this have anything to do with the agreement you made with Lyon to protect me?” I’d seen that, too. And it had hurt to watch, knowing she made that promise to him out of guilt over what she had done to me in Cuernavaca, when all the while, Lyon had never told her what I’d done to Névé. “This is your home, too, Kai. You don’t have to leave to protect me or to spare my feelings.”

  “This has nothing to do with you or Lyon. I’ve already honored my promise to him. I just . . .” She rakes back her short hair with a heavy sigh. “I just need to find myself, Jack. I need to figure out who I am apart
from Ruby. Apart from this place. I might already know how my story’s going to end, but I still want the experience of living it. I want to make my own decisions for a while.”

  I frown at my reflection in her sunglasses. I can’t imagine what it must be like to know your own fate. It’s one thing to look in someone’s eyes and see their past. Or to look in the mirror and have to face your own. It’s entirely another to see the consequences of a lifetime of choices you haven’t had the chance to make yet.

  Kai puts a finger to the bridge of her glasses. She smiles, pulling them down just enough for me to see the glimmer in her eyes. In them, I see Kai—glimpses of her future. Rock climbing, kayaking, hiking a glacier. Camping in the mountains. A kiss on a beach. It relieves me of some of my guilt. And if I’m being honest, eases a little of my worry—it’s good to see a future where the world is still here. But it doesn’t diminish the loss. Our brief partnership hasn’t been without its challenges, but there have been moments when she felt like a friend. I know she wants me to say goodbye, to turn around and walk away. But that doesn’t make it any easier.

  I glance at my watch, wondering how much time I can steal from her. Maybe I can convince her to miss her flight. She pushes her glasses back in place.

  “You’ll be okay,” she says, throwing a soft punch at my shoulder. “And so will I. You and Fleur are going to finish rebuilding the Observatory. You’re going to be loved by everyone and make beautiful Seasons together,” she says, wagging her eyebrows suggestively. “And I have it on good authority you and I will see each other again in the not-too-distant future. I promise,” she adds, claiming it as a choice and not leaving it to fate.

  “I’m counting on it.” Thumbs hitched in the pockets of my jeans, I wait for her to be the first to leave.

  “Show me your back, Chronos,” she says, dragging a laugh out of me as she walks backward toward the bus stop. I’ll never get used to people calling me that.