Chapter 3

“GAH!”

With a little more force than necessary, Thea turned into a bullet, nearly flinging herself into a full-on tumble when she finally came to. Her chest was heaving, lungs aching at every ragged breath puffed out of her. Her head pounded, swiveling from one side to the other despite the twinge building up at the spot where the base of her head met the top of her nape. As far as her frenzied eyes could see, every inch of the gallery had its shit rocked to hell and back. Anything even remotely combustible was engulfed in flames, crackling and sputtering as they crawled all over the place. Smoke thicker than cotton and blacker than oil hung heavy in the air. Smoldering embers, glass shards, and installation fragments covered the floor like a light-up mosaic, glinting faintly in the firelight. Over at the altar-platform, the marble pillars and Olympian statues had been reduced to nothing more than another part of the ash-laden rubble that laid around her. Up on the ceiling, a lone skylight was now a bare frame, devoid of all but a couple scraps of glass hanging on for dear life. Through it, Thea saw the storm at its raging peak; it was as if she was standing by a waterfall, the way the thunder howled in her ears as the rain came flooding in. With nothing but the sunken-in brazier in its way, the downpour coursed over the platform, streaming down the steps like mini-rivers. It brought hissing steam into the mix, clearing the air just enough for her to breathe without the fear of smoke inhalation doing in her. (Which—honestly—would be a pretty lame way to go out, considering all the crap she had just survived up until now.)

As for Thea herself, she sat a few feet away from the foot of the altar-platform, smack dab in the middle of statue remnants and pottery bits. Singed tears and patches of soot littered her Goodwin uniform from the sleeves of her blouse down to the edges of her skirt. The taste of copper lingered on her tongue, doing her no favors when it came to the nausea churning her stomach and pushing bile up her throat. Slowly, she rose to her feet, wincing until she stood at her full height. If there were any broken bones, Thea couldn’t tell. Outside of the jackhammers in her head and the urge to purge her stomach of all its contents, pain in the rest of her body was…nonexistent. Nothing ached or throbbed. Hell, nothing else even stung. Despite the undeniable fact that her skull had been cracked open just a few moments ago, here she was—up and at ‘em, fully supported by two legs that were as steady as ever. By all accounts, it was a goddamn miracle. One she should’ve put more thought and sheer what-the-fuckery into…if it wasn’t for the fact that Thea wasn’t the only one that got yeeted by a goddamn explosion.

“CHRYS!”

Wide eyes whipped around as Thea scrambled over the ruins of the exhibit, her voice rebounding off the walls in a booming echo.

“CHRYS—shit—WHERE ARE YOU?!”

Debris crunched under the bottoms of her Converse with each step she took, the sound masked by the growl of the fire and her pulse pumping at full volume in her ears. Whether she was trampling over glass or terracotta or a piece of battle armor didn’t register in her mind as quickly as it should’ve. Nor did she take note of the path she was on as she navigated through the remnants of the showcase. It all just…faded to the background. Lost in a haze as tunnel-vision-mode activated. The literal apocalypse could be fucking up San Francisco at this very second, and Thea…would be none the wiser. All because Chrys was her main priority right now. Finding him and making sure he was okay dominated every thought passing through her. Nothing else mattered at this point: not her own wellbeing, not the random explosion that tore through the exhibit, not even Mrs. Drake and her unholy snake-bitch form. Just Chrys. Why should Thea put all her time and energy into worrying about insignificant shit like that when her best friend was MIA in the aftermath of something that should’ve killed her but didn’t? Why think of anyone or anything else when the only classmate Thea’s ever had that gave enough shits to willingly stick his neck out for her come hell or high water was somewhere in these ruins, probably in a worse state than her since he’s the one that got turned into a goddamn stress ball pre-explosion? Chrys needed help. Chrys was on the verge of death. And Thea—

It was all her fault.

She stopped dead in her tracks. Eyes shooting downwards. Jaw clenched tight.

No. No, she couldn’t think like that. She shouldn’t think like that. Thea wasn’t the monster here; she wasn’t the one that turned into a gigantic snake and nearly choked her best friend to death. That was Mrs. Drake. Not Thea. As far as she was concerned, the only thing she was rightfully guilty of was tossing Wyatt Dickson’s ass into the goddamn lake.

…right?

“THEA!”

Oh, thank fuck—

Huffing out a sigh, Thea vaulted over a toppled grave-marker and bolted towards a corner of the exhibit behind the altar-platform, where piles of marble fragments surrounded Chrys in a messy semicircle. He was standing on wobbly feet, leaning up against the severed head of Zeus with one arm wrapped around his torso while the other hung limply at his side, burn marks and splotches of blood staining his uniform just like Thea’s. Through the tears on his sweater vest and button-up, she could make out patches of deep blues and dark purples sticking out worse than a sore thumb against his skin. His hair was way messier than usual; all tousled up and spiked out, with ash on his scalp and the ends smoking slightly. His right pant leg had been rolled back, showing off his prosthetic in all its fabricated glory. It started from the mid-thigh and ended at the foot, made entirely of shiny black metal and deep brown wood. The ankle and knee parts were ball-jointed; the kind you’d see on those really pretty but really expensive dolls meant for collectors or customizers. Swirling designs resembling branches of blooming cherry blossoms were etched across the wooden parts of the faux-leg. In the spot where his leg nub slotted into the top, a cotton-y fabric colored forest-green wrapped around his thigh like a giant sock. If it wasn’t for the fact that Thea had seen it a bunch of times before, she would’ve been struck dumb by the killer craftsmanship. This was the kind of prosthetic that belonged in some epic fantasy novel, or on the set of a high-budget sci-fi flick. Not on a twelve-year-old kid caught in the burning remains of a history exhibit.

A tired smile greeted Thea as she approached him, clashing with the tension that stiffened his shoulders. His eyes quickly zeroed in on the piss-poor state of their uniforms, slowly absorbing their appearance for half a beat. Then, he pressed his head against Zeus’s brow, sucking in a sharp breath as he did.

“…well,” Chrys started, voice all strained and crackly, like he hadn’t spoken in a hot minute. “At least one of us isn’t looking like Jason Todd fresh out of the grave.”

“Dude,” she snapped, fidgety hands fiddling with the hem of her skirt. “Don’t even—Just—A-Are…Are you okay? You…You kinda look like shit, to be honest…”

He nodded his head, a small laugh slipping out. “Eh, I’ll live,” he said without missing a beat. “What about you?”

Her grip on the rigid fabric tightened, teeth biting down on her bottom lip in near sync.

Honestly, despite the myriad of words swirling around in her head that Thea could use to faithfully describe how in the sweet and sour fuck she was processing all this, none of them packed the sort of punch that had rendered her as breathless as she felt right about now. Hell, she doesn’t even know which part she ought to flip her shit over first—the fact that their English teacher turned into a whole-ass snake monster hellbent on murdering them in cold blood, or that they’d just survived a whole-ass explosion with nothing but a couple of bruises and splotches of blood as evidence. The only thing her mind and body could fathom at this very second was that the only reason her best friend managed to go toe-to-toe with a literal fucking monster was because of a pair of sticks. Sticks that…weren’t really sticks. Or fancy rods. Or cosplay-worthy batons. Because calling them by any name other than what they really were cheapened their value. Downplayed their intricacy. Underrated the literal fucking magic they were capable of wielding. No, these were legit. The realest deal you could ever hope to witness. Genuine, honest-to-whatever-supreme-being-you-believed-in wands. And they belonged to Chrys. To her motherfucking best friend.

As if her thoughts had commanded them to, her eyes flicked over to the arm hanging at Chrys’s side, where a silver chain was held in a tight fist. A chain that had two pendants hanging from it. Pendants that, upon closer inspection, were mini-versions of his wands.

For a breath, silence slipped in between them. Thea’s hands shook, quaking with tremors that went all the way up to her elbows. Chrys’s brows were furrowed, lips pressed into a thin, contemplative line as he placed the chain around his neck. Not a word was spoken. Not a thought was voiced into existence. And then—

“Holy shit,” Thea rasped, low and awe-struck. “H-Holy SHIT—”

Before Chrys could respond, before he could even begin to consider what she was “holy shit”-ing, Thea rushed forward and grabbed him by his sweater vest.

“Y-You’re…You’re a wizard, Chrys?” She shook him like a frantic rattle, eyes wider than the full moon and shining with teary frustration. “You’re a fuckin’ wizard?!”

Both of Chrys’s hands shot up, raised in mock-surrender while he gaped back at her.

“I—Okay…first off,” he said, “chill. You’re gonna give me whiplash, dude. Secondly…”

With caution, Chrys grabbed Thea by her wrists, forcing her death-grip on him to loosen a bit.

“I think we got more pressing matters to address than my qualifications to help crown the next king of fucking Britain!”

Thea scoffed, sharp and curt. “Well, excuse me for trying to make sense of what the fuck just happened here. Unlike you, Mr. Wands-Blazing, some people—!”

“Hey, it’s coming from over there!”

Whatever witty comeback she had up her sleeve died on the tip of her tongue, snuffed out by a new voice cutting in. A voice whose source Thea never saw, thanks to Chrys practically dragging her along as they barrelled out of the gallery. All with a strength she’s never felt from him before.

When they found an exit closest to the Greco-Roman exhibit, they were met with a pair of scorched doors that were nearly blown off their hinges, blackened asphalt under their feet, and wailing sirens trying their damndest to muffle the thunder crackling overhead.

Beyond that, though, it was a little hard to make anything out in the downpour. Droplets the size of gumballs kept hitting Thea in the face, forcing her to squint her eyes and throw up a hand in an attempt to shield herself from the rain. But, as water-laden as it was, it didn’t really blind her in the slightest. The flashing lights of the police cruisers, fire trucks, and ambulances that swarmed the streets around the Palace provided enough ample lighting to break through the gloom of the storm. Add in the piercing whites of lightning strikes with their searing reds and glaring blues, and Thea felt a little more confident in her view of the madness surrounding her. Everybody but first-responders and news reporters had been pushed off the property and onto the sidewalk, their only barrier between them and the Palace being walls of concrete roadblocks and lines of caution tape held up by skinny traffic cones. Cameras and phones zoomed in on the firefighters rushing in and out of the building like a barrage of ping-pong balls, and on the paramedics tending to droves of injured people. People whose conditions ranged from being similar enough to Thea and Chrys’s that they only required minimal attention, to burns and gashes so severe that they got sent off to the nearest hospital almost instantaneously. Such a sight she’d only seen before on TV screens and in movie scenes.

And yet, despite the razor-sharp vigilance each first-responder sported as they hustled around, nobody paid any mind to the two middle schoolers standing right in the thick of this on-going havoc. It was as if the both of them were invisible to the naked eye; blending in with the daze of rushing bodies and pouring rain that swallowed the Palace whole. No one spared Thea or Chrys a questioning look or worried glance, much less acknowledged their very presence. No one stopped to ask them questions, or place them on a gurney, or guide them to wherever the Goodwin group had ended up. If Thea had any spare brain cells left to give a damn, she’d probably be having a mini-crisis over whether or not she was really here.

Cautiously, Thea reached out, a hand about to snag a passing firefighter. But, right as her fingers grazed the sleeve of their jumpsuit—

“A mysterious explosion hit the Palace of the Fine Arts earlier this afternoon…”

—she froze.

News reporters and their camera crews had been stationed at various spots around the Palace. Most were on the green that surrounded the lake, keeping their distance while also maintaining a good vantage point of the action. The rest, though, stood either before the building’s main entrance, or under the dome rotunda that Thea and Chrys were standing across from. It was this close proximity that allowed her to hear their reports loud and clear. To see in full, high-definition the grim expressions that were plastered across their faces as they addressed their unseen audience—from the stiff scowls being pressed up against their mics, to the faint creases building up between their furrowed brows. Her heart sank down into the depths of her stomach with every word spoken, becoming nothing more than a frigid weight that left behind an icy void in her chest.

“…all streets in the Presidio and Marina Districts have been closed off…”

“…about twenty-eight deaths have been confirmed so far…”

“…cause is yet to be determined, but police say…”

Tears were building up in the corners of her eyes, stinging like an agitated bee as they trickled down her cheeks. Her body went slack, knees wobbling and feet stumbling until her back collided with Chrys’s torso. Even if it seemed as though no one could see or hear her, the fact that she was currently in public and surrounded by a bunch of story-hungry vultures was reason enough for Thea to stop herself from diving head-first into a conniption of epic proportions right then and there.

Everything, every single damn thing, was…too much. Too many sounds filled the air—her ragged breaths, the claps of thunder, the sirens’ shrieks, the reporters’ somber commentary. They all melded together in a blaring clusterfuck that could give a sonic boom a run for its money, striking her eardrums in a way that made her whole body ache something fierce. Too many raindrops (or, were they actually tears?) covered her face, blurring her vision ‘til she saw nothing but blobs of blinding lights and shifting colors. Too many people surrounded her, surging through the area like a hysterical sea of stampeding animals. Thea was losing count of the firefighters circling around the Palace, of the paramedics hauling bodies on creaking gurneys, of the police officers yelling at people to move back while their walkie-talkies garbled out static-tinged chatter. Too much pressure was on her arms, which were caught in the vise-tight grip of a panicky Chrys trying oh-so desperately to bring her back down to earth. Trying to raise his voice above the white noise dominating her ears and get her to look, just look at him, goddammit. But…how? How was Thea supposed to do that? How in the fresh fucking hell was she supposed to tear her attention away from the full-on insanity going on around them? There was just so much going on here. So many things that demanded complete concentration and utter focus. So many questions and thoughts and fears swirling around in the overstimulated lump she had for a brain. So…

So many things that were her fault.

That particular notion, that damning accusation from before, returned with a vengeance. Thea was wrong, so very wrong. This whole thing? This awful, terrible, fucked-up disaster right here? It was all her fault. There was no other way to spin it, no alternative to suspect. Chrys had been put out of commission, unable to do anything but ragdoll in a grip that would’ve killed him if it got any tighter. Mrs. Drake didn’t seem like the pyro type, if the way she attacked Thea and Chrys was anything to go by. And no one else was in the room with them when the explosion went off. That left Thea—just Thea—as the culprit of this calamity. She was the one who made the fire in the brazier go boom. She was the reason why there were firefighters and paramedics and police officers out here, why they were pulling singed corpses out of burning buildings and holding off swarms of scared people desperate for answers that were only going to scare the shit out of them even further. She was the cause behind this news-worthy explosion, the one responsible for these twenty-eight deaths—

Oh…

Oh god.

People died today. They fucking died today. Twenty-eight of them! Twenty-eight lives got snuffed out like a candle in the wind, leaving behind whoever they had to mourn their loss. Twenty-eight deaths were going to rock the afternoon news slots, promptly throwing everybody in San Francisco into a city-wide panic. And no, that last part wasn’t an exaggeration. It was a predication. Because…how else are they going to react to this? This fire came without warning, devastating the Palace in broad fucking daylight. And, so far, officials had no fucking clue how this happened. Guesses and theories were going to run wild in people’s minds. Thea could already imagine the laundry list of ideas that’ll flood everybody’s feeds and timelines. A freak accident cranked up to an eleven. A planned attack orchestrated by some criminal mastermind or extremist group. Faulty wiring. Busted-up gas lines. Planted bombs. Anything was fair game! But, for the most part? The thing that’ll be on the public’s mind, the question they’ll all be pondering? That’s if the same damn thing will happen somewhere else in the city. If the next time they decide to go out will be their last. And it’s all thanks to Thea trying to save her best friend from a literal, real-life monster.

This dreadful mess—this goddamn tragedy—was on her. Her. Even if she had no idea how she did it.

The rain felt like sheets of pure ice against her skin, her clothes wet rags in desperate need of a good wash or seven. Thea had half a mind to haul ass back to Goodwin so she could take a long, warm shower before checking herself into bed and conking out for a week straight. Hell, forget going back to that shithole of a school. Thea would much rather call up her dad right now and ask him if they could move again than spend another second at Goodwin. Or San Francisco. Or anywhere in fucking California! But, alas, her own wants were sadly overshadowed. She could barely afford to give a flying fuck about cleaning herself up or getting a decent amount of sleep when the world she knew was crumbling around her. Maybe if the universe had enough decency to throw her a bone and let her breathe for once, then yeah. She could. But, no. Any chance to dip had been thrown out the window the moment Mrs. Drake went full-on Mrs. Dodds on her and Chrys. There was shit she needed to get sorted out; questions to answer and problems to solve before she could even think about getting some good ol’ TLC. Starting with how she did…this. How could she—some middle school nobody who only ever had her wits and her fists to help her out in every fight she had the misfortune of getting into—do something straight out of a fantasy movie? There was no way, no chance she was even remotely capable of magical bullshit like that. Something else took over; something powerful and scary and completely alien to her. This had to be some freaky out-of-body experience she was having, or a fucked-up dream she hadn’t woken up from yet. Because this wasn’t real. This wasn’t actually happening. Thea couldn’t set fire to the Palace by herself. She didn’t have the magic to do it!

But she did.

She could deny it as hard as she wanted, for as long as she wanted. But it would change nothing. Nothing at all. This wasn’t an elaborate prank. Or a hallucination. Or a nightmare. This was reality—her reality. Mrs. Drake wasn’t…never was human. And (apparently) neither was Chrys. Thea had spent the latter half of her first year at Goodwin with a monster and a wizard under the same roof as her. The teacher she despised/feared most and the first steady friend she ever had were living, breathing proof of the supernatural existing in the same space as regular ol’ humans. And she…

Somehow, she was involved in all that.

It was hard to stomach, her being a part of something like…this. Like, out of all the people in the world, why did it have to be her? She was just some kid. A complete and utter nobody! Sure, most fantasy protags started out as your everyday no-name, but they would always follow this specific criteria of traits that sets them apart from the rest: dysfunctional parents that were hiding secrets from them; outrageous talents and perfect beauty that they’re fucking oblivious to; and an annoying-ass mentality that flip-flops between “I’m-not-like-the-other-girls” and “I’m-such-a-plain-boring-Jane”. Their normalness was an afterthought. The narrative’s piss-poor imitation of a red herring. Frankly, these protags were never truly normal. They were always…special. And, as aforementioned, Thea wasn’t special. Far from it, really. Even if the most outlandish things about her were her heterochromic eyes and erratic moving history, those still had a bland note of mundanity to them that nobody would ever bat an eye to. Her eyes weren’t the ones writers usually waxed poetic about. The left wasn’t emerald-green, or silvery-grey, or rose-pink. Nor was the right sapphire-blue, or honey-gold, or lilac-purple. Just black-brown and amber-brown. Strange, sure. But not supernaturally. And all the moving, the hopping from one town to the next? Thank her dad’s demanding job and its wack-ass tendency to transfer him over to another location at the drop of a hat. Thea was odd. Not special. Never special…

Until now, she supposed.

Mismatched eyes suddenly snapped up to meet dark brown ones in a glare so heated that it had Chrys reeling, his grip on Thea’s arms dropping faster than a fly to a bug zapper as he took a step back.

“…Thea?” he asked, his tone unsure yet steady.

Her head was swimming, drowning in a sea of stuff to ask and curses to scream. So swept up in the mindfuckery of it all, she hadn’t realized ‘til now how calmly her best friend was taking this bitch of an unpleasant situation. While Thea was here, confused out of her mind and scared shitless, Chrys was as cool as can be. Snarking off at the snake-monster-thing they once called their English teacher while he waved his wands and shot a blast of magic at her. As if he was some goddamn Gandalf wannabe. Hell, the dude nearly died for fuck’s sake! Yet he had the balls to ask her if she was “okay”. Christ on a bike—she wasn’t the one Mrs. Drake had in a bone-crushing chokehold! That was Chrys. Chrys was on the verge of death back there. If anything, he should’ve been way, way, way more disorientated and freaked out about this than Thea. But was he? Was he actually losing his shit about it? Was he bawling his eyes out, breaking down right then and there like she wanted to? No. Hell no. He wasn’t. He fucking wasn’t. All because he was more worried about Thea. Thea! The one who started all this! He didn’t give a rat’s ass about his own well-being because (for some godforsaken reason) he made his best friend a top priority. She mattered more to him in this moment than anything else. Including his own damn brush with death.

Thea didn’t know whether she should be touched by this…or downright terrified.

“Thea?” Chrys tried again, this time reaching a hand out. “Thea, hey—”

Whatever he had to say was cut off, silenced by her hand slapping away his.

“WHY THE FUCK ARE YOU SO FUCKIN’ CALM ABOUT THIS?!”

He jumped a little, half his face scrunching up at the wail that busted out of Thea. “Wha—”

“You—You almost died back there, Chrys!” She threw up her hands, curling them into shaking fists as she did. “You…You could’ve split your fucking skull open. Or snapped your neck! Or ended up with some old-ass weapon rammed through your stomach, turning you into a damn Chrys-kabob!”

“H-Hold on—!”

Her hands rushed forward, snatching Chrys by the collar of his button-up and pulling him down ‘til the two were at eye-level.

“YOU ALMOST DIED! DIED! YET YOU DON’T GIVE TWO SHITS ABOUT IT!”

Hot tears swelled, streaming down her face alongside the raindrops showering over her. Yet Thea could see Chrys as clear as ever. See the way his eyes widened at her yells and jaw going slack at her shaking him as if he was a pair of maracas. His mouth tried to move, tried to find the words that could ease her frantic nerves and put an end to her banshee shrieks. But Thea was having none of it.

“YOU SHOULD BE FREAKING THE FUCK OUT ABOUT THIS! LIKE I AM! I ALMOST LOST YOU, CHRYS! DO YOU HEAR ME? I ALMOST LOST YOU! DON’T YOU CARE? DON’T YOU GIVE A SHIT ABOUT SCARING ME LIKE THAT?”

“Thea,” he snapped. “Of course I do! I—”

“THEN WHY THE HELL ARE YOU SO GODDAMN CALM ABOUT THIS? WHY—?”

“BecauseI’vebeeninthiskindofsituationbefore!”

…

…

…what?

Thea blinked, once then twice then a third time more. Her hands went limp, grip easing up ‘til it was just her fingertips grazing the crumpled fabric of his shirt.

“Y-You—”

“Yeah,” he said, nodding. “Yeah…and—”

“There’s an ‘and’?!”

“And”—Chrys held her wrists, not too tightly but also not too loosely. Just firm enough to keep Thea right where she was without hurting her—“with our shitty luck combined, I’m, like…99.9% sure that Mrs. Drake is just the beginning.”

He paused, eyes glancing around with an air of caution.

“Which means we gotta get the hell outta here.” At that, Chrys eased up a bit, the tense wariness dancing across his features soon morphing into steely determination as he narrowed his eyes. “I know a place. It’s safe and there’s a spot nearby that’ll take us straight there. Just stick close and follow me, okay?”

She shook her head, hands balling up into fists against his chest. Even though this was her best friend saying this—even though this was coming from one of two people in the whole entire world that Thea trusted with her life—it did nothing to soothe her rapidly beating heart, or silence all the thoughts begging to be let out of her brain. She refused to be moved to some shady-ass secondary location when she still had no idea what the hell was going on here. Especially when her best friend claims to have gone through the same damn thing Thea was currently going through right now. What did that even mean? Did he square off with a teacher-turned-monster before? Did he discover his magic after causing a disaster that killed a shitload of people too?

Thea opened her mouth, something between a genuine question and a smartass quip on the tip of her tongue. But it was sharply killed off, stifled by Chrys sprinting forward and yanking her along. They rushed over to the side street behind the Palace, stopping in front of the first vehicle they saw—AKA, a two-seater car colored a dingy shade of silver. In one swift motion, Chrys grabbed the pendants and tugged them off the chain, causing them to shift back to their normal size. Then, with the flick of his wrist, the doors to the tiny-ass car snapped open. Thea’s eyes practically bulged out of her head as Chrys ushered her inside, yelping as soon as the door slammed shut behind her.

“We’re stealin’ a car,” she muttered, head ducking forwards. “We’re stealin’ a motherfucking car.”

“How else are we gonna get to the Golden Gate?” Chrys shot back as he settled into the driver seat, seatbelt clicking into place. “Walk there? Take Muni?”

“Uh, yeah,” Thea practically barked. “Since, ya know, we don’t know how to fuckin’ drive!”

Her best friend snorted, holding up his wands as he did. “Who needs driving lessons when you got these bad boys to do all the work?”

Then, with a cheeky wink, Chrys turned towards the wheel and thrusted his hands forward. The pillar wand got shoved right into the ignition, clicking into place as if it was an actual key and not a metal stick sharp enough to shank a motherfucker. The bamboo one, meanwhile, was pressed up against the horn, causing a bunch of light beams to sprout from the wand’s shaft and encase every inch of the steering wheel in see-through chains. Chains that pulsed with an eerie glow as green as neon lights, which washed over the wands before spreading out to the wheel and parts of the dashboard. The engine roared to life in an instant, and—before Thea knew it—they peeled out of the parking lot faster than she could even blink.

“WHOA WHOA WHOA!”

Her hands scrambled about, clicking her seatbelt into place before latching onto the strap and strangling the thing for dear life. Thea then snapped her head towards Chrys, watching with gaping eyes as he leaned back in his seat.

“Dude,” she snarled. “A little warning would’ve been ni—AGH!”

In a puff of iridescent sparkles, two large rucksacks—one colored olive-green and covered in comic book-themed pins/buttons, the other a dark blue that had faded stars printed across the fabric—popped into existence, ungraciously plopping down onto Thea’s lap as they did. Her eyes go moon-wide at the sight of them, jaw slack and recognition flashing across her features. Those were…their rucksacks. The ones she and Chrys left behind on the bus. How…How were they—?

She opened her mouth, ready to speak again, only for a chorus of heavy thuds to resonate from the open trunk space behind them. Thea quickly swiveled in her seat, finding a large suitcase covered in stickers, a leather briefcase that looked more for travel than business, a dark red duffle bag adorned in embroidered patches, and a steamer trunk with wheels sitting in the back. Luggage she knew like the back of her hand.

“Chrys—” Thea started to say.

“This was why I was late to the bus,” Chrys blurted out, his eyes never once leaving the glowing steering wheel in front of him. “Prof—I had a feeling that something was gonna go down today, so…so I went back to our dorms and…packed up all our stuff. Just in case we had to dip or…whatever…”

Thea doesn’t miss the slip-up, the fact that he was about to tell her someone else was in-the-know about all this. And it was the perfect set-up, too. A smooth segue into a whole new line of questioning that could help her make sense of the shitshow she found herself getting swept up in. And yet…Thea kept her mouth shut. Let the two of them sit in relative silence after that. Let the only noise that stopped the air from going awkward and dead be the drone of traffic cruising down the highway, the hum of whatever magic was driving the car, and their own soft breathing. Chrys’s gaze was locked on the wheel as he pressed himself up against the backrest, shaky hands grabbing fistfuls of his slacks. One leg bounced up and down at an unsteady rhythm, filled with pauses that ranged from the briefest of beats to a whole minute or two of stillness. Not a single glance was spared in Thea’s direction. Which…honestly? She didn’t mind all that much. Her attention was laser-focused on the road ahead of them, taking in deep breath after wobbly sigh.

How desperately Thea wanted to flip her shit like a burger-flipping virtuoso about to take some sort of acrobatic pirouette off the fucking handle and straight into the deep end. There were simply too many emotions, too many things she wanted to say or ask bubbling up inside of her as if she was a soda bottle about to pop. She needed to get them out, to remove them from her person so she could calm the fuck down and tackle this situation with a clearer head. But fear had her in a chokehold. Stopped her from taking that solace-seeking plunge. Because…who knows what would happen, if she allowed herself to go buck-wild. Thea already caused a spontaneous explosion back at the Palace, all to save a friend from certain death. What else was she capable of? How else could she inadvertently hurt somebody while trying to cope with her own problems? With how insanely shitty her day was shaping up to be, Thea needed a better outlet for everything she was currently thinking/feeling at the moment than crying, cussing, question-throwing, and enough internal monologues waxing moodily poetic to give a brooding protagonist whose whole character is built on angst, angst, and more angst a run for their money.

But talking about her emotions and feeling them out was never really a strong suit of hers. She had more important stuff to worry about, like where she and her dad would be staying next. Or what sort of school she was about to get dropped off at. Or how she would convince her dad to let her get another bag so she wouldn’t have to play Jenga with all her stuff. And—if Thea did get the chance to assess what was going on in that big head of hers—her feelings were usually geared towards more…“ordinary people” stuff. Like her reluctant acceptance of never having the privilege of staying put in one place and settling down for a long time, or her frustrated jealousy towards the kids around her and the relatively uncomplicated lives they had. Stuff like…this was never an issue she had to consider before. She never had to deal with teachers turning into monsters as they accused her of stealing shit, or causing freak explosions that killed twenty-eight people.

But Chrys did.

“…the fuck was that?” she finally asked him, her tone fierce as she slammed a hand against the bags in her lap in a staccato-like rhythm with each word she spoke. “What in the sweet and sour fuck was that?!”

He flinched. His head instantly turned in her direction, one hand reaching up to scratch the back of his neck.

“Thea, I… Look, it’s, uh…it’s kinda…sorta hard to explain—”

She scoffed. “Oh, fuck that noise. You sure as hell can explain it, Mr. I’ve-Been-In-This-Kind-Of-Situation-Before. What was all that, back at the exhibit? How the hell did you do that? How the hell did Mrs. Drake do that? How the hell did I do that?! If…I-If this is some sort of sick prank or messed-up stunt, then…fuck off! Genuinely.”

His shoulders fell, a weary frown fixing itself into place. Chrys let out a soft laugh as he lowered his hand, devoid of any humor.

“Yeah…guess I set myself up with that one, huh,” he said in the quietest voice Thea has ever heard him use. With the hum of cars zooming past them, the puttering of raindrops hitting the windshields, and her own heart thumping like a pissed-off rabbit in her ears, she would’ve missed it entirely if she wasn’t hanging on to every word he spoke. Even when he took a moment to gather his thoughts, she waited with bated breath, attention fully locked in as he finally carried on. “…I can do the things I did because I… I’m…I’m not…entirely…human.”

And, just like that, all the anger simmering inside of her became air in a deflated balloon, leaving her body in one fell swoop. Thea gaped at her best friend, jaw hanging and that confused daze she felt back at the Palace returning. She searched for any sign of abnormality, eyes scanning his face for anything that could show her how inhuman he really was. But…she found nothing, nothing at all. He was still Chrys. Still that snarky kid Thea met in Mr. Yılmaz’s class all those months ago. Still as tall and lanky as ever; so tall that she could reach only up to his chin if she stood on her tippy toes. Still had that messy-as-fuck hair that curled up at the ends, colored in that half-dirty blonde, half-dark brown hue he swore up and down was natural. Still had those rich eyes that were the softest shade of brown she’s ever seen. He was still Chrys Kiyonabe, her best fucking friend in the whole wide world. And yet—

“A-And…you aren’t either,” Chrys added, pressing on. “You’re like…me. A lot like me, believe or not. And…A-And I should’ve told you. From the get-go. But I was…scared. Scared that you weren’t gonna believe me, that I was gonna come off like some fuckin’ nutcase and…drive you away. Or…”

“Or…what?” she asked, her voice sounding way too small to be hers.

“…Or I was gonna put you in even more danger, if I told you about what was really going on.” He paused, then let out a bitter laugh. “Though, uh… Now that we’re here?”

Thea stayed silent, opting to just watch her best friend steer his attention back towards the road ahead. He wrapped his arms around himself as sheer exhaustion plastered itself across his face. His eyelids drooped, the corners of his lips tilting down ever so subtly. A heavy sigh then left him, dragging out slower than a sleepy slug.

“I’m…starting to think that I should’ve told you a whole lot sooner.”

With shaky hands, she grasped at the bags in her lap like a life preserver. Her mouth opened, then closed, then opened again, then closed once more. All in a desperate attempt to come up with…something. A question that could precisely sum up the billions of other questions she had cooking in the back of her throat. Or a sentence that embodied her brain flipping its shit and saying “fuck you” for overwhelming it with too many things at once. Shit wasn’t making any sense. Not at all. Yet, at the same exact time, it did. A lightbulb went off in her head, but her vision was still blurred. The right words fell from her lips, but they struggled to form the right sentence. It was an odd feeling, one that seriously made Thea question if her sanity was dropping or not.

Though, before she could settle on whatever it is she wanted to say, the car came to a sudden stop. Thea looked out the window, eyes landing on the reddish-orange building with the words “WELCOME CENTER: INFORMATION & STORE” plastered across the side in silvery lettering. The Golden Gate Bridge loomed in the background; the fog so thick that it completely hid the tops of the bridge from sight.

Thea blinked twice. “Uh…what’re we doing here?”

Chrys reached over and grabbed the olive-green rucksack from her lap. His eyes met hers in a leveled stare, lips twisted in a small grimace.

“Okay, usually I’d be against this sort of thing,” he began, unbuckling his seatbelt and throwing his bag over his shoulder in one fell swoop, “since, um…how do I put this? Natural portals are straight-up dogshit, and there are legit other ways to safely transport yourself across the multiverse without having to throw your ass into a 50/50 gamble hole torn into the very fragile fabric of reality. Buuuut…we’re kind of in a tough spot right now. Like, I’m talkin’ ‘between-a-deadly-rock-and-an-equally-deadly-hard-place’ type of situation here. And I really, really, really don’t want the D.I.T. or D.I.A.D.C. on my ass if I try out the way I’m thinking of taking. I’m probably already in deep shit with Headmaster de Angelis for ditching half of the school year to play shadow for a very important government agent that had to bail on his guest professor gig to deal with a mission that is pretty much life-or-death for the person said mission is centered around. My aunt and uncle will slaughter me if I do something illegal on top of playing hooky. So, in my expert opinion, this is literally our only option.”

Thea leaned back in her seat, eyes wider than a dinner plate and jaw hanging like an ornament about to fall off the branch of a Christmas tree.

“Dude.”

Chrys held up one hand in mock-surrender, while the other grabbed the briefcase from the back. “I know, I know—I sound like an absolute lunatic. But trust me. This is our one-way ticket to that safe place I was telling you about. Once we get there, most of our problems will vanish. No more monsters tailgating our asses to hell and back. No more wondering if and when we have to move to another place so we can stay one step ahead of the danger. Before you know it, you’ll be calling this place home.”

Home.

Thea’s stomach churned, twisting and buckling in the depths of her torso the second that word fell from her best friend’s lips. Home. Thea never had a home. How could she? Homes were intimate, permanent places reserved for yourself and the people you loved. They were meant for those looking to settle down and stick around for the long haul. Your heart felt safe and warm and secure there. Homes stayed put. And Thea…didn’t. Ever since kindergarten, her life had been spent roaming the country, bouncing from fancy hotels and shady motels to lively boarding homes and cozy B&Bs without ever looking back. Her heart was nothing but anxious and borderline paranoid, zeroed in on how long she’ll last at her current school or when her dad’s boss was going to relocate him again. They were temporary arrangements—shelters where her time occupying them felt fleeting and forgettable. Thea had no time to make a room her own, no way to fill it with things that she liked or brought her comfort. They were in and out, just like that. No fond memories made. No heartfelt goodbyes. No sad glances shot out the window as they drove away. It was a one-and-done deal; a “see-ya-never” spoken with such a dull monotone that it would make robots look more emotional in comparison. The only purpose these places ever served was to provide a roof over her and her dad’s heads when she wasn’t trudging through the trenches of academic hell and he wasn’t working that wack-ass travel nurse gig of his.

Lips pursed into a small pout, Thea looked over at the bridge, watching the fog wrap around it like a safety blanket.

“…the only calling I wanna do right now is call my dad,” she mumbled, undoing her seatbelt as she did. “Can you, like…gimme a moment?”

“Yeah,” Chrys replied with a nod of his head. “Yeah, of course.”

With that, he grabbed his wands and pushed the door open, stepping out of the car before heading towards the trunk. As he got their stuff situated, Thea slipped a hand into one of the rucksack’s side pockets to pull out her phone. The lock-screen flickered to life as she pressed the power button, revealing a picture of her and her dad from when they lived in Hawaii. A weak smile creeped its way onto her face at the sight of lil’ Thea happily burying her dad in the sand, her wild mane pulled back into a pair of poofy buns adorned in hibiscuses. She was around seven at the time, obsessed with Lilo & Stitch and in awe of the island that housed her dad’s latest assignment. They only lasted for half a school semester there, but Hawaii was still better than most places they’d stayed at. It could’ve been home. She wished it became home. But good things never last, and so Thea had to let go. Like she always did.

Huffing out a sigh, she quickly opened up her phone and punched in her dad’s number, all while rolling down the window to let in a rush of cool, rain-damp air. The piercing drone of a dial tone filled her ears, dragging on for a couple beats until—

“Um, hello! Romeo here! Sorry, but I can’t come to the phone right now. Just leave a message and I’ll call back as soon as I can. Hope you’re doing well!”

Shit.

“…hey, Dad,” Thea muttered, silently cussing out whatever divine force caused her dad to be busy at this very moment. “I-I…um…”

She glanced back at Chrys, who had slammed the trunk closed before checking over their luggage. The rain had finally stopped, leaving behind nothing but stretches of dark clouds and the smell of fresh petrichor. It eased her nerves somewhat, steadying her voice with a deep sigh.

“Look, something…happened. By the time you get this, you’ve probably already seen it all over the news. D-Don’t worry, though! I’m…okay. I’m with a friend right now. A friend who’s taking me somewhere safe. I dunno where exactly, but…Chrys looks like he knows what he’s doing. And…I ain’t gonna doubt someone I trust. So…yeah…”

Another sigh, short but laughter-laced. Thea quickly threw her rucksack onto her back before shoving the car door open.

“I’m basically skipping town right now. I wish we could stop by the hospital so you can come with, or at least say goodbye. But…um…it’s kinda…time-sensitive for me at the moment. A-At least, that’s how Chrys is spinning all this. So, um…sorry…”

She slowly climbed out, hand tightening around her phone while Thea joined Chrys over at the trunk.

“But, again, don’t worry. The second we’re at this so-called ‘safe place’, I’ll call you. Okay? I’ll tell you where I’m at so you can come and see me. I promise. Just…hang in there, Dad. I love you.”

With that, she ended the voicemail with a rather aggressive tap, shoving her phone back into its pocket before glancing up at Chrys. Offering up a reassuring smile, he handed Thea her suitcase and duffel bag. She grabbed her stuff with a soft “thank you” before her eyes flicked over to the welcome center, watching as a small stream of tourists go in and out of the building.

“…ya know,” Thea began, dully, “if you’d told me this morning that I’mma become a fire-summoning freak who’ll watch her best friend go wand-to-talon with a fucking monster, I would’ve gone right back to sleep.”

The smile on Chrys’s face instantly faltered, swapped out for furrowed brows and a scowl twisting across his mouth.

“You’re not a freak, Thea.” He placed a hand on her shoulder and gave it a firm squeeze. “Remember what I told ya back at the Palace? You’re spe—”

Thea instantly swiped his hand away. “Don’t.”

She took a step back, holding her luggage with a vise-tight grip as her eyes lit up with a glare so cold that her best friend shuddered at the sheer intensity of it. A free hand then shot up, shoved right into his face while pressing her index finger against the tip of his nose. Brown eyes went cross-eyed as he stared down at the offending digit in front of him.

“Don’t you fuckin’ start,” she snarled. “I ain’t special. Never have been, never will be. All I’ve done today is push Wyatt fuckin’ Dickson into the lake, watch that snake bitch we called our English teacher nearly choke the living shit outta you, and killed twenty-eight pe—”

“Dude, it’s not your fault,” Chrys insisted. “You were just trying to stop Mrs. Drake—”

“By committing explosive arson?!”

“By using your powers like I was!”

Thea shook her head, scoffing. “The fuck you talkin’ about? I’m not a wizard, Chrys!”

“Neither am I,” he snapped back.

“How the hell aren’t you a wizard?” Her eyes narrowed. Finger pressing a tiny bit harder into his nose. “You got a wand. Two in fact! And you were casting spells—”

Chrys groaned. With a swipe of his hand, he smacked hers away and took a step back.

“Just because I got a wand and can do magic doesn’t automatically make me a wizard.”

Thea placed a hand on her hip, head tilting to one side. Tongue clicked in unison with the wry smile that plastered itself across her lips.

“Oh, so you’re a sorcerer then?”

“I—no!”

His mouth opened and closed a few times, trying his damndest to come up with a response to that. But, as quick as his spluttering came, it went away with a simple shake of his head.

“You know what? I don’t even wanna start. Just…” He took in a deep breath, long and slow. “It’s not your fault, Thea. You were scared. I was about to die. Our powers tend to go a lil’ haywire when your emotions are all over the place.”

“But I—!” Thea tried to say, only to stop herself at the sight of how tired and concerned her best friend looked. At how desperately he was trying to comfort her. She quickly clenched her jaw, both hands latching onto her luggage. “…fine, whatever.”

Chrys opened his mouth, probably about to call her out for how dismissive she was sounding right about now. But she cut him off with a sharp exhale, curt and slightly huffy. Thea then turned her head and glanced around, eyes avoiding her best friend like the plague.

“So,” she said after a moment, switching topics faster than a cheetah on crack. “Where’s this shortcut you’ve been hyping up?”

They were making their way down the trail, coming up to a small set of stairs leading into a darkened tunnel covered in graffiti, when Thea suddenly paused in her step.

There, humming to her heart’s content while sitting criss-cross-applesauce on a picnic blanket near the top of the stairs, was a plus-sized lady with a few wrinkles adorning her otherwise youthfully round face. She was dressed up in a paisley-patterned dress that both hugged her curvy frame and billowed around her the same way ribbons did in the hands of a gymnast, paired with a chain belt made up of celestial-themed medallions and strappy wedge sandals. Despite the flat light of the overcast skies, her tanned brown skin glowed like polished bronze. Thick, bluish-black tresses framed her face in long braids adorned with golden wires twisted into spiral-like rings, and glass beads as iridescent as white opals. Such hair accessories matched well with the circlet she wore, which looked kind of like a mini ladder—two golden rails lined with rungs made of the same glass as the beads, curving around her head and meeting at a large, eye-like gem resting against her forehead. But what really caught Thea’s eye about the lady was…well, her eyes. If she wasn’t looking out in a glazed-over manner, her eyes would’ve been the dead giveaway to her blindness. The irises were pale and milky, almost blending in with the whites, while the pupils were clouded over with what Thea assumed to be cataracts. And yet, in spite of this, her hands moved with keen precision as she weaved together a large blanket. An intricate one, adorned in a rainbow pattern that mirrored the paisley print of her dress. Had it not been for the fact that she was currently on the run from…something, Thea was half-tempted to sit her ass down and watch the woman do her thing.

Instead, her gaze shifted to the wooden incense holder sitting right in front of the older lady, shaped like a blooming lotus flower and holding three, unlit incense sticks colored red, purple, and blue. She tilted her head to the side, taking a cautious step forward.

“Thea!” Chrys hissed. He threw out a hand, which she dodged with ease. “What are you—?”

Suddenly, the older lady fixed her unfocused gaze on Thea and Chrys. A sweet smile graced her heart-shaped lips; the kind that could probably give Thea a buttload of cavities if possible.

“Ah… Such young auras,” she murmured, her voice a velvet-smooth lullaby to Thea’s ears. “Children like you hardly ever cross paths with me nowadays.”

With another hum, she pushed her weaving project aside and held out a hand towards Thea.

“Care for your fortune to be told, little one?”

“N-No thanks, ma’am,” Chrys immediately declined.

“Are you certain?” she asked, her candied smile never once wavering. “I do not charge, if that is what troubles you.”

He opened his mouth, poised to respond again, but Thea beat him to the punch.

“Nah,” she said, accepting the offered hand. “I’m down for this.”

It was a weird move, Thea will admit. Especially after having just told her dad that things were “time-sensitive” right now. But, for some reason or another, she was…curious. If monsters and magic were real, then maybe whatever bullshit fortune this woman had up her sleeve could help her out. Maybe she had the answers Thea needed. Maybe she knew the truth that’s been avoiding her like a scorned ex. Stuff couldn’t be a coincidence anymore; not when everything kept getting pear-shaped. This lady’s well-timed appearance had to be related to all the shit that’s been happening to her so far. After all, that’s how it usually went for the typical fantasy protag after the supernatural world revealed itself to them. Besides, it couldn’t hurt to try, could it?

And so, with the fortune-teller’s smile softening into a gentle smirk, Thea let herself be guided by the older lady as she sat down in front of her.

“My name is Tifawt,” she introduced herself. “Tifawt al Kahinah.”

“I’m Thea.” While crossing her legs underneath her, Thea threw a thumb over her shoulder. “And that’s Chrys.”

Chrys waved a hand, lips stretched out into a tense smile. “Hi.”

He was hanging back, keeping his distance from the fortune-teller with Thea and their luggage acting as his shield. Eyes were narrowed ever so slightly, tracking Tifawt as she let go of Thea’s hand to pick up the small, silver tin resting on her lap. Thea couldn’t help but roll her eyes at him, especially when his body stiffened at the sight of Tifawt running a finger against the intricate eye design carved into the tin’s lid.

“Let us see what Fate has in store for you, hm?”

Thea nodded her head. She watched as Tifawt opened the tin with a flick of her thumb, revealing a bunch of colorful matches neatly packed inside. Taking one with a black-colored tip, she struck it against the sandpaper glued to the inside of the lid. Her eyes then fluttered shut, taking in a deep breath before extending the match out towards the first stick.

“Invoco…”

A rush of rosemary, lavender, and sage filled Thea’s nose as each incense stick was lit. The scent wafted through the air in swirling wisps of pure white smoke, seemingly snaking around the fortune-teller like vines on a tree. But the star of the show was Tifawt’s voice, which had gone low to the point of being nearly inaudible. A faint, barely-there whisper that Thea would’ve missed if she wasn’t listening closely enough.

“…mihi Fata.”

The second the last few syllables of that creepy-ass sentence were uttered, the fortune-teller’s eyes snapped open. In place of cloudy pupils and pale irises were comet-bright pools of vivid ebony, glimmering gold, and soft silver.

Multiple voices, all varying in pitch and tone, spilled from Tifawt’s lips at once. Booming shouts blended into fleeting murmurs. Frantic cries overwhelmed furious wails. It was a cacophony, a dissonance. One that assaulted Thea’s ears like the reverb of a thunderous bass.

A tendril of smoke soon shot out towards Thea, stopping just millimeters away from her face to form a vague, human-esque silhouette holding some sort of barbed rope.

The silhouette raised a hand and cracked the rope like a whip, causing it to dissipate in the blink of an eye.

Then, with a soft breath, Tifawt shut her eyes. Lips settling back into that honey-sweet smile she’d been sporting only a few minutes ago. Silence swelled, only disturbed by the distant chatter of tourists and the whistle of the wind that parted the clouds up above. Wide-eyed and slack-jawed, Thea slowly looked over towards a pale-faced Chrys. He had pulled out the pillar wand, holding it so tightly that his knuckles turned white.

“Was that…” Her best friend trailed off, squeaking a little towards the end. “Was that…a pro—?”

“The road ahead is perilous, my dear,” the fortune-teller interrupted, her voice now back to normal. Thea quickly whipped around, just in time to see Tifawt place a hand over her heart. Her eyes were opened up once more, slowly fading into their original, foggy state. “But the hardships awaiting you are but temporary pains. You will succeed. You will brave the storm.”

And then, with that same hand, Tifawt reached out and twirled a finger around the incense sticks, turning the smoke trails into a mini-tornado.

“For you are a wolf, and wolves do not travel alone.”

Thea blinked twice, gulping down a cold lump that had formed in the back of her throat. Slowly, she rose to her feet, stepping off the picnic blanket before grabbing her bags.

“Uh…” She gingerly nodded at the older lady. “Thank yo—?”

With the speed of a bullet, Chrys suddenly swept her off her feet, snatching her by the back of her sweater vest as he rushed her towards the tunnel.

“C-Chrys!” Thea yelped. Her legs flailed around, kicking up dirt and a corner of Tifawt’s picnic blanket in a clumsy attempt to find her bearings. “What the—?”

“We gotta go, we gotta go,” he whisper-yelled. “Fuck, look, we’re being followed!”

At that, she risked a glance behind them. Down the trail several feet away were a pair of dogs—one a red border collie with a tricolored coat, the other a solid black German shepherd. At least…at first glance, they looked like dogs. But these things were the size of full-grown cows, with two fucking heads and a whole-ass snake for a tail. They stalked down the path with their muzzles sniffing around, paws stomping like chisels striking stone. When she and Chrys made their way down the steps leading into the tunnel, the dogs let out a chorus of gravelly, head-buzzing growls. Then—with howls so loud that they stabbed at her eardrums to the point of making her wince—they picked up the pace, practically sprinting over to close the gap between the four of them.

“Shitshitshitshitshit—”

Chrys pulled Thea in front of him, pushing her forward as they ducked inside the tunnel. But instead of going straight through, they veered off to the side, heading for a shadow-cloaked wall. She immediately braced herself for a face full of solid concrete, throwing an arm over her head while screwing her eyes shut.

But, right as her body made contact, it slipped through like a knife through jello.