resets-not-endings

[resets-not-endings]

remedial chaos theory

Things are going to go wrong.

That’s the first thing that Dean Forrest tells all her students. Currently, her favorite (not that she is ever going to admit that, even if subjected to torture) little group of kids is sitting in one of the too-big, too-grand classrooms in their unnecessarily fancy school. Cassian Tyler, one of the best teachers in the school, one of the ones who actually teaches, is standing at the front of the room.

Ally Hollister is sitting on the table. Jay Callahan is sitting on the floor. Riley Corvid is the only one sitting in a chair. (They’re the only one who has actual respect for the concept of a school, though Jay at least has the common courtesy to be quiet.)

“Things are going to go wrong,” Mx Tyler says again. Riley nods. “And things are going to happen in wildly different, impossibly confusing ways.”

“But they’re also going to be the same,” Jay says. “We know.”

“Do you?” Mx Tyler asks. “Then, why, exactly, are you here?”

Ally shrugs. Jay looks at the ground.

“Do you know what we’re going to be doing today?” Mx Tyler asks instead. 

“Nope,” Ally says, disinterested and unhelpful as she ever is. Mx Tyler sighs.

“You’re trying to teach us that despite the randomness and impossibility of any given scenario, there is, even with the overwhelming likelihood of it being something new and unknown, a chance of repetition,” Riley says. “Because we got caught in a jam by working under the strict belief that we wouldn’t find ourselves in the same situation again, and then later by maintaining a view of reality in which we would be in a looped scenario, which was the case in neither situation. And you want to keep us from getting killed if that happens again, because Ally’s supposed to save the world.”

Riley Corvin is a quiet, bookish kid, for the most part. They defer to Ally, and sometimes Jay. They teach themself how to work as a medic, how to be important, how to be useful, because if they are useful, they won’t be cast aside. Nobody throws away useful things.

Cassian Tyler and Dean Forrest are trying to convince Riley that they’re not kept around, and even if they are, it’s not because they’re a useful tool. But it’s hard. Because Riley came to them as Ally’s friend. Because they let Riley stay because Ally said so. Because they’re not magical. They’re just human.

But it doesn’t matter, because Riley is definitely useful. They’re smart.

But they make dumb mistakes. They all make dumb mistakes. 

And so the three kids (because really, they’re just kids) are sitting in the too-large classroom, talking about chaos theory with Mx Tyler.

“Well said, Riley,” Mx Tyler praises. Riley ducks their head down, scribbles something in their notebook, and doesn’t say anything else. “You’re here for an assignment, actually. We’re going to put you in various situations and see how you handle them.”

i. 

There are seven crows sitting on the table at the front of the room. None of them are fans of crows after everything that happened with Death.

“Have fun,” Dean Forrest says, then leaves the room, Mx Tyler right on her heels. 

It is followed by the distinctive sound of the lock clicking shut.

the adults are not prepared for the bout of screaming that comes.

they are similarly not prepared for a quiet knock on the door and riley calmly saying, “all the crows are outside, what do you want us to do now?”

they open the door to reveal riley and jay sitting patiently at a table, talking quietly as they write, and ally, leaning over the windowsill, her entire upper body hanging out into the space created by the open window. all the crows are perched peacefully in the bare boughs of the tree outside, snow dotting the ground.

ally turns and smiles. “are we done?” she asks. dean forrest nods and steps aside for the children to file out of the room.

ii. 

“We have a student here who can manipulate time,” Mx Tyler says. “On a small scale. He’s volunteered to help with the first part of these tests. We’re going to roll a die, and turn one of you a different age.”

“That’s small scale?” Ally asks incredulously, suddenly paying far more attention. Mx Tyler shrugs. 

Manipulating age happens more than it should, in their world. The kids need to be prepared.

“This is Kyle Leman,” Mx Tyler says, introducing the teenager as they beckon him into the room. Kyle waves.

Mx Tyler pulls out a normal die, a white cube with black dots, probably taken from some board game years ago.

“Pick a number, each of you,” they instruct.

“Two,” Ally says, automatically.

“Six,” Jay says.

“Okay, then Riley that leaves you with four. Here’s how this is going to go. If it rolls a one or a two, that’s Ally. Three or four is Riley. Five or six, that’s Jay. Odd number means you get aged back, even number means you get aged up,” Mx Tyler explains. “You figure things out until Thursday at noon. Then, we move onto the next scenario.”

It’s currently Monday afternoon. That’s a long time.

They all nod. Kyle stands next to Mx Tyler as they roll the die, right on the table at the front of the class, where everyone could see if they wanted to. It rolls for a minute before it settles.

One dot, right in the center.

“That’s going to be you, Ally,” Tyler says. “Come on up here.”

Ally slides off the desk and paces up the aisle. Riley gets a sour look on their face, like they know what is coming and are far from excited about it.

Kyle touches two fingers to Ally’s forehead. 

Nothing happens.

Kyle and Mx Tyler leave. They don’t lock the door, this time.

“Wassup?” Ally asks, all childish innocence, like she doesn’t know that something is wrong, something is weird.

Riley blinks. Jay mumbles something into his fingers. 

Ally is seven. She sticks her tongue out at Riley, who is out of their chair and going to grab her in less than a second.

“Don’t touch me,” Ally wails in protest. “Le’go! Put me down!” she protests loudly.

Riley sighs, gathers the younger girl into their arms, and leans against the table. Jay simply stares. Riley puts Ally on the table.

“Do you know who I am?” they ask.

“Riley,” Ally says, pouting. 

“And him?” they ask, gesturing over to Jay, who smiles and waves. Ally shakes her head. “That’s Jay,” Riley tells the young girl. “He’s a friend.”

They don’t need to say more than that. Ally sticks out her tongue again, missing teeth and sun-soft freckles.

“How bad can this really be?” Jay asks, late that night, after they struggled through the mess that was the dining hall and finally wrangled Ally into a bed, where she promptly passed out. Riley gives him an unimpressed look.

“Bad,” they say simply. “She was a handful as a kid, and I doubt she’ll be better this time around.”

They look over at Ally, curled up in bed, under a blanket, looking sweet and fragile and childish. It’s not fair.

Day two turns out to be worse than anyone could have expected.

Ally wakes up, then kicks Riley’s arm until they wake up, having fallen asleep in an armchair. Jay is in the top bunk. (He has his own room. He chose not to use it. Instead, he stole Riley’s bed. The faculty has given up on separating the three of them by gender like they normally do.)

“What, Als?” Riley asks, trying to rub the sleep from their eyes.

“Where are we?” Ally asks.

“School,” Riley says. “We talked about this yesterday.”

Ally nods. “Where’s Dad?”

Riley’s heart skips a beat, and their chest seizes. Fuck. Jay is still waking up in the top bunk, exhausted and unhelpful, but it doesn’t matter. Jay would only ask more questions, inadvertently make it worse.

They don’t have an answer for Ally. The girl doesn’t stop.

“Ri,” she whines. “Ri, where’s Dad?”

“He’s not here,” Riley says carefully. They can’t lie to Ally.

“Where is he?” Ally asks. God, this kid is persistent.

“He’s dead,” Riley says finally, tiredly, after a minute of hesitation.

Ally’s face falls, her brightness crumpling and lip trembling. Riley gathers the young girl into their arms. It isn’t enough.

(They should have lied, but they couldn’t, not to Ally.)

Jay decides that now is a good time to finally be awake enough to contribute. “What’s wrong?” he mouths down to Riley, who gives him a halfhearted glare and shakes their head.

Ally doesn’t talk for two hours. It’s almost worse than her screaming and running around, causing terror. Then, something snaps. The room does not fare well.

Riley locks Ally in a janitor’s closet with them. Jay, on the other side of the door, almost laughs as he leans against it heavily. Riley sags against the wall, lets Ally scream and cry and hit them and break things.

Ally seems to forget everything when she falls asleep. She wakes up on Wednesday, and nearly screams loud enough to rouse the entire Academy trying to wake her friends up. Riley has a class. Ally is excused from classes due to personal reasons, not that she ever went to classes in the first place. But Riley has class.

So they leave Ally with Jay, and promise to be back in two hours. Ally is eating cereal when they leave. Jay is reading. Nothing that bad could possibly happen in two hours.

They are very wrong, and almost regret even going to class. Jay is somehow locked in the bathroom, and Ally is running down the halls, barefoot, in clothes that are far too big for her.

Riley catches her just outside their room, and hauls her back in. They release Jay from the bathroom. He is soaking wet, his hair and clothes frozen, and he looks miserably. Riley takes pity on him, wraps him in a blanket, and sends him back to his own dorm room.

He gets a break for all of three hours. Riley spends their dinner in the dining hall hunched over their notebook, trying to write the three page report that was deemed necessary for each of these scenarios. Jay is trying to simultaneously eat, hold Ally in place, get Ally to eat, and offer help to Riley.

By the end of dinner, his hair is frozen again, and he is drinking his sixth mug of tea while holding onto Ally’s sleeve so she doesn’t run off. Ally falls asleep at the table. Riley passes their notebook to Jay to hold, picks up the girl, and carries her back to their room. 

Ally sleeps until almost noon the next day. Riley spends most of that time typing up and editing their report with Jay hovering over their shoulder.

When noon comes, the three of them are waiting in the grand classroom, and Kyle presses a finger to Ally’s forehead again, and leaves.

Ally looks at Riley, nearly bursts into tears, and buries her head in her arms. Jay rubs her back. 

“Well done, guys,” Mx Tyler says. “I’ll read over this and return your grade tonight,” they add, holding up the report.

They get their grade while at dinner. When they get back to Ally’s room, Riley’s neatly typed report is in the folder pinned to the door, where the teachers put papers for the kids.

On the last page, there is a handwritten paragraph.

Grade: A

Comments: You did well, despite the less than favorable circumstances. I do have to say that I was not expecting Mr Callahan to have so many issues regarding his attire and ice, but you handled everything well. Riley, I think you drew on your past knowledge well. Jay, you adapted to do what was needed. Ally, you seem like a terror of a kid, and I’m glad I wasn’t the one in charge of you. I’ll see you all tomorrow afternoon for your next class.

Jay laughs. Ally hits him. Riley and Jay retreat to Jay’s room. They need a quiet night. 

iii. 

[resets-not-endings]

“Look, man, I died a long time ago,” the boy tells Jay, who can only nod. He’s known a lot of people who have died over the years, but most of them don’t talk about it.

“You said you had information for me,” Jay reminds him.

“Yes. Death is coming. I can sense him. He’ll be here soon.”

“Oh.” Jay doesn’t have a response for that right now.

“You know the Wind, do you not? You must tell the Wind of how he comes. He will be here soon,” he repeats, eyes haunted.

“Thank you, Adam,” Jay says, and the boy nods before ducking through a doorway.

He can’t tell Ally about this, not yet. She’s not ready for it. None of them are ready. He’s good at keeping secrets, though.

The Forces have grown stronger as time passes, but Ally is young. She is only the newest reincarnation, and she has only been aware of such for two years, when she was taken to the Academy.

The Academy wasn’t just for Forces. It couldn’t be, not if they wanted to keep running. It trained all sorts of young people. They found new Forces and took them in before they could cause trouble. Virgil was in charge of them, the young man who had always seemed so tired as he spoke to Ally. He didn’t pay much attention to the others.

Jay was at the Academy because he was a Touched One. Nobody was quite sure where the name had come from, and most people agreed it sounded fairly dumb and overly formal. They were called Ones, which sounded equally strange, but at least it didn’t make it sound as awful.

Jay was not someone who truly appreciated his ability, according to Dean Forest, who was in charge of the Ones at the Academy. She believed that he didn’t understand the extent of his power, and that he took it for granted.

Maybe he did, but being able to communicate with ghosts was not always his favorite thing. Many of the ghosts were children, which was horrible, and many of them did nothing but scream and clamor to be heard as he walked by and turned the volume up on his headphones.

Riley, unlike Ally and Jay, unlike most of the students at the Academy, was not gifted in some supernatural way. They were Ally’s childhood friend, which apparently merited being taken into the Academy along with her.

They hadn’t had much of a choice in the matter. Riley had lost their mother to her failing health when they were three, and their father had been killed in an accident when they were nine. Ally’s mother was the remaining one of their godparents, and she had taken them in, but she wasn’t going to keep Riley around with Ally off at the Academy.

Laura Hollister was a kind woman, but they hadn’t spoken to her since they left.

Ally had been taken into training, which left Riley on their own. It didn’t matter much. They had always been a smart kid, a hard worker, and they kept studying despite everything.

Sam Windsor is nineteen now, too old to stay at the Academy, but he doesn’t know what to do in the world. He stayed close, stayed in the city, and he is there when Virgil asks for him.

He likes the trains. They are soothing, with their sleek metal exteriors and the gentle clacking of the wheels. He watches the sparks that are thrown from the rails as the trains rattle by. He should fix it for them, but for now, he leaves it, enjoying the way the electricity flares up when the trains pass.

He’s a Force, not that anyone notices him. There is a hierarchy to the Forces, as there is to everything, and he falls low on the list. He is Machinery, and he likes to watch the trains.

He goes unnoticed in comparison to Death, in comparison to Virgil, the Guide to those lost, in comparison to the Winds and Moon and Tides and Sun. He knows others who fall into the hierarchy alongside him, Hearth and Snowfall, the twins who look nothing alike.

[resets-not-endings]

“Go,” Riley says after a terrifying beat of silence. Ally stares at them like they’re crazy. “Take Jay, and go.”

They say it like it’s simple. It’s never that simple.

“What?” Jay asks, staggering back as he keeps his fingers dug into the flesh of his shoulder, trying to keep the blood in. Riley ignores him, eyes locked on Ally in some futile staring contest.

“What about you?” Ally asks.

“They don’t care about me,” Riley says. “I’m mortal. Death is looking for you. The ghosts are going to kill Jay. Take him, and get out of here.”

“How?” Riley stares at her, eyes burning with a fire they’ve never seen from them.

“I don’t know. You’re the goddamn North Wind, Allison. Figure it out. I’ll find you. Now, go.” Their words are sharp edged as they bite them out, scowling at Ally.

They’re not a fighter, but they’re going to sacrifice themself for their friends.

Luckily, Virgil chooses that moment to appear. He looks around, notices some wild gesture that Riley makes, places a hand on the shoulders of Ally and Jay.

Before they can protest, they’re no longer on the roof, and the carpet of their dorm room is under their feet.

Ally chooses that moment to curse wildly at Virgil, who presses his lips into a thin frown, nods, and disappears. She’s going to kill him, one of these days.

Riley should be here. She tries to remember what Riley told her about first aid, finding gauze in one of the drawers to press against Jay’s shoulder.

He has a better memory than her, or maybe he just listens, or maybe there is a ghost instructing him. Whichever may be the case, he tells her what to do, quietly reassuring her that Riley will be fine.

Virgil returns not long after, depositing a slightly battered Riley beside them. They sit up, ignoring the cut on their forehead that dripped blood into their eye, brushing dark feathers off their clothes. The feathers seem to crumble to ash as they fall to the floor, and Riley shudders before turning to Jay.

“I thought you were going to help me keep Ally out of trouble, not get in it yourself,” they accuse playfully, quickly peeling back the gauze and helping Jay out of his jacket.

He shrugs with his uninjured shoulder as the cut the sleeve off his shirt and poke at the gash in his shoulder. He sucks in a breath through his teeth, giving Riley a look.

“Sorry,” they say distractedly, taping butterfly closures over the wound. They sit back once the small adhesive strips are in place, and look him over.

“Are you okay?” Ally asks them, and they nod and shrug, which is not particularly reassuring.

Riley traces their fingers lightly over Jay’s ribs, and when he winces, they hike up his shirt, frowning at the bruises that are quickly forming.

“I’m fine,” he tells them, but they aren’t listening. They disappear into the bathroom.

When they return, they have butterfly closures placed along the cut on their forehead and a similar one on their cheek. They wrap Jay’s ribs with an elastic bandage as Ally pelts them with questions.

“What happened?” she asks.

“Crows,” Riley says simply, and Ally forces away images of her friend lying dead on the rooftop while they were safe at the Academy. “Death is gone, for now. He’ll be back.”

“Of course he will,” Ally mutters. “Nothing is ever that easy.”

“Nope,” Jay agrees unhelpfully, and Riley sighs.

“We can take him,” Ally says again.

“I’ll help hide the body,” Riley tells Jay, and she smiles.

They’re going to be okay, for now.

[resets-not-endings]

Jay takes less than a second to look at the man, look at the air around him, at what no one else can see, before dragging his friends behind the brick corner of a building.

Riley nods as he moves them, and Ally curses wildly before he tightens his grip on their sleeve and shushes her.

“Jacob, if you don’t let go of my wrist right now,” Ally hissed, breaking off to curse at him as he held a finger to his lips.

“Three things,” Jay said, keeping his voice quiet but letting his annoyance seep in as he spoke to the others. “First, Jay is not a nickname for Jacob or James or anything. We’ve been over this. Second, Allison, be quiet before we all get killed. Third, that guy.” As he talked, he gestured to the tall man in the dark suit, with roving eyes of icy onyx.

“He’s bad news,” Riley says, taking over for Jay as he gets distracted by something neither of them can see or hear.

“Which one is he?” Ally asks, looking annoyed. At least she got that he’s a Force, and he’s a powerful one if Riley’s words are anything to go on.

There are dark winged birds crowding the branches of a barren tree, despite the fact that it is the middle of winter and they are in a city. The birds seem to flicker, as if they are illusions, changing between their shadowy forms and skeletal remains.

The man is pacing the street, looking around for something, presumably them.

“Well, just guessing here, mostly based on the fact that this street is now teeming with ghosts that you can’t see,” Jay says, sounding incredibly exhausted despite being fine a minute ago. “I’m going to go with Death.”

“We can take him,” Ally declares, and Jay gets a look in his eyes like he’s considering the best way to kill her and hide her body.

“Or,” Riley cuts in, “just keeping our options open and our lives continuing, we could hide.”

Ally glances around the corner at the man. The birds are beginning to line the streets, shifting and flickering, and the man’s eyes burn red deep in their hollowed sockets. He is caught between being a Host and being a Force, his form stuck in the grey area. He’s powerful, she knows that.

Worse than that, he knows of her, and he’s looking for her.

“Okay,” Ally quickly concedes. “Sounds great.”

Jay hisses something Ally can’t hear, then pulls down the ladder of a fire escape.

“Climb,” he tells her, pushing Riley ahead. “Both of you, go.”

“Not without you,” Riley says, grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling him up with her. “Hurry, though. Jay, where are we going?”

“Roof,” he mumbles, caught in the middle of a harsh conversation with a ghost that involves a lot of gesturing wildly with his hands. She’s grateful for her strong grip on his shirt and Riley leading the way, because each time Jay says something, he lets go of the metal rail, and they both almost fall.

They finally make their way onto the roof, out of breath and anxious, and Ally thinks they’re going to be okay here, away from Death on the streets below. Unfortunately, that thought is quickly eradicated as Jay is knocked back, blood seeping through the shoulder of his jacket.

“Stay back,” he warns Riley. They’re not a fighter, and they all know that. Ally quickly surrounds them with a wall of wind, hoping it keeps out the ghosts.

“How are you doing?” she asks Jay, and he gives her an unhelpful thumbs up.

“We need to get to the Academy. Someone needs to call Virgil. He definitely knows we’re here now, and there isn’t much room to run,” he says, and Riley nods, scrawling a note on a scrap of paper.

Ally catches it with a wisp of wind and directs it to find Virgil. “What’s happening, Jay?”

Riley is the one who answers, which shouldn’t surprise her as much as it does.

“Some of the ghosts are helpful, the ones that roam the city and some killed by Death. Others are under his control, or loyal to him, and they’re attacking us. They won’t be able to do much to me, since I’m mortal, and you’ll probably be okay, being a Force and all. Jay, though,” they trail off, and the look they give him makes her uncomfortable. “They’ll kill him if he stays here.”

[resets-not-endings]

Fading away was easy. Staying real, staying present and alive, that was the hard part.

He figured that most people didn’t share this problem. He could always talk to the ghosts though, so he didn’t care. They listened to him.

The Academy was grand, with high ceilings and giant halls, intricately patterned doorways and dark wood floors. Large stained glass windows rose up on his side.

He curled into his sweatshirt a little more. He resisted the desire to pull the hood up, feeling that would be rude. He pulled his fingers into the sleeves and ignored how there was a chill that bit at him despite how warm the rooms should be.

He followed the young man down a winding path that he didn’t bother trying to remember. The man didn’t talk as he hurried down the halls, his jacket sprawling out into the air behind him. The young boy simply followed.

There was a girl his age, maybe younger, standing in one of the corners. She was a ghost, he knew that, even before he saw the gash across her throat. Unsurprisingly, she didn’t say a word, just watched him as he passed.

His boots clicked against the hardwood floor, louder than he wished. He wore them to remind him he was real, in spite of everything, but now he wished he had sneakers. He didn’t want to draw attention to himself here.

The man stopped in front of a wooden bench and gestured for the boy to sit. The bench was simple, the same dark wood as everything else, and it was pressed against one of the walls. He took his seat on it, leaning against the wall, trying to seem comfortable while being able to spring away if needed.

The man nodded, turned, and left. The boy was getting frustrated. He really wanted an explanation for all of this, though he knew he wouldn’t get it.

There were many ghosts in the halls, most around his age, and they roamed endlessly, never stopping to notice him.

On a similar bench to his own, down the hall, a girl and an enby sat, watching the large door that seemed stuck in place. Wind whipped around the girl, curling around her feet. The enby had a backpack slung over one shoulder and a book in their lap.

Their eyes darted over to him briefly, but they quickly turned back to their book and nudged their companion. She looked up and stared at the boy, scrutinizing him. He pressed himself against the wall again, trying to sink into it.

The wind picked up a little, spreading down the hall to where he was. The girl seemed oblivious to it, and the enby seemed annoyed but used to it as they held the pages of their book down as they fluttered and tried to move.

The girl stalked down the hallway to where Jay sat. She held her head high, with an air of confidence he had never had, and she stopped in front of him.

He was looking down, at the ghost of a cat that had skittered under the bench and curled around his feet. The girl wore dark high top sneakers, laced neatly and covered in streaks of dirt and inky doodles.

“Hello.” She held her hand out formally, but she had a friendly smile on her face and she laughed as he took her hand and bowed.

“Hi,” he said, hating how his voice caught on the single syllable. It was so much easier to talk to ghosts, he thought.

“I’m Ally. What’s your name?”

“Jay Callahan,” he told her. “Jay.”

“What are you in for?” she asked, taking a seat beside him. He quickly shifted to give her room, then frowned.

“What do you mean?” He didn’t know why he was there, nor where he actually was.

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I was wondering if you knew anything about all of this. My mom. wouldn’t tell me anything when the man took us here, and he didn’t speak.”

“Your mom?” He hadn’t been taken here by his parents, and nobody had introduced him to the man who came up to him on the street and told him to come.

Any response was cut off by the large door opening, and a woman stepped out. She was tall and had grace to match a confidence similar to that of Ally. She looked carefully at each of the children, frowned at the enby with the book and the two of them sitting together.

“Allison Hollister,” she said, beckoning to the girl. “Come in. Bring your friend.”

Ally stood up quickly, waved to Jay, and walked over to the woman.

“Ri, come on,” she said, and her companion closed their book and placed it in their backpack as they joined her.

The woman ushered the children inside, and the door closed, leaving Jay alone in the cold hallway, faint wind still whistling down the hall.

The cat carefully climbed out from under the bench, where it had been hiding from the wind. It jumped up and took Ally’s spot, curling against Jay’s leg.

He waited for them to return, and watched an elaborate clock on the wall mark each passing second. The others did not return, nor did the man who had led him there.

The door opened again, and the woman stepped out. She looked tired, and held a formality much higher than Jay’s standards.

“Come in,” she told him, skipping the part where she announced his name to the empty hallway. He was grateful for that, at least. He doubted whatever form she was getting names from said Jay Callahan on it, and he hadn’t gone by his given name in years.

He followed her into the room. The wind was gone now, and the cat had run down the hallway when she spoke. She gestured for him to sit in a large chair, and he buried his hands in the pocket of his hoodie as he took his seat, nearly tripping over his untied shoelace.

“So,” she began, fingers clasped together and eyes darting between studying a piece of paper on the desk she sat behind and studying him. “Do you know why you are here?”

He shook his head. She sighed, and ran a finger down the paper, searching for something.

“You have a gift,” she said, and he nodded despite it not being a question. “Good, good. I am Dean Forest. Do you know where you are?”

“No,” he said quietly, shaking his head again. “Nobody told me anything.”

“Typical of Virgil,” she muttered, then looked at him again. “Welcome to the Academy.”

[resets-not-endings]

The Beginning of It

The wind rattles the window as it pushes by, the glass trembling in its frame. It is still dark outside, though the little light from the streets of the city see illuminated snow that was starting to fall.

The streets will be covered by morning, and the air inside is icy and bitter despite the thermostat working its hardest. Nobody speaks in the house. They aren’t supposed to be awake, and they all know it.

A young enby sits quietly on a mattress on the floor, feet still tangled in the blanket cast aside. They watch the window as the snow fills the air, waiting. They know it is coming, though they have no clue what it is. They will soon find out, nonetheless.

The girl in the room with them is lying in her bed, pretending to sleep as she stares at the ceiling and maps out the scratches in the paint. As she sits there, anxious and on edge, the wind roars past, but she is unaware.

She doesn’t look out the window to see winter coming fast, and she doesn’t notice the enby who sits in the shadows. The storm picks up, unnoticed.

They will soon be faced with what they need to know. She is lying awake, blissfully unaware, but that will not be the case for long.

Across the city, in a different room in a building miles away, a boy speaks to the darkness. Nobody else can see who he talks to in the dark of night, and nobody notices him.

He speaks to those long forgotten, a young man who has always lived in that room, since long before the boy had moved in with the haphazard group they called a family. He was never alone, not with those forgotten.

He speaks to the dead and the alone, and he realizes they are not so different from him. He too goes unseen in the crowded city that is so full of life.

A young man walks the streets late into the night. He always walks the streets, never pausing to rest. He is not mortal as the rest are, and he has no need to stop.

He searches for new charges, for those that need guidance. He was created as a guide, named as such, and it is his duty to watch over the streets and those lost.

He has never been one to neglect his duty, so he walks the streets. He has not yet found anyone, but he will find them soon, sooner than he thinks, sooner than anyone is ready for.

Another young man, still a teenager, sits on a metal bench on the platform and waits. He watches the trains as they pass. He understands the trains, and he likes to watch them.

He should be asleep as well, but he is a night wanderer, and he can sleep when there is not work to do. He can sense what is coming, even before the winter storm reaches him, snow and wind whipping around him as he pulls his hat lower and stuffs his hands in his pockets.

Morning will be there soon, and with it, the rising storm will break and everything will change. He waits. He will be there when it happens.

The school is dark, the students asleep in their dorms. The teachers rest as well. The dean is sleeping, though her sleep is an uneasy one, and she shifts as her thoughts trail to the world outside despite her slumber.

She is always aware of the world. She is never caught off guard when it comes to arrivals, and she will not start tonight.

The child who sits away in the shadows of the small room is uneasy, though they do not know why. Something churns in the pit of their stomach, unpleasant and unfamiliar, yet it feels like a distant memory that has drifted just out of reach.

The child does not carry the resemblance of the girl in the bed beside them, nor that of the woman who sleeps down the hall. They are not in any of the photos that grace the walls and shelves, photos of a smiling family, mother, father, and young daughter.

The photos that have yet to collect dust show just the woman and the girl, and the man does not rest in the house with them. He lies in his final bed, deep in the earth, miles away and surrounded by others who came to reach their fates.

The child is an imposter in this house. They have slept on the floor for years, on a thin mattress with a single blanket. Their possessions fill a backpack but do not see the daylight.

This is not their home. They do not pretend it is. They sleep on the mattress and thank the woman for what she has given them, all she can provide. It is enough.

They sit awake and hope that they are wrong. They do not like the feeling in the back of their mind, the faint tingling that seems just out of reach.

The girl knows the ceiling she stares at better than anything. She lets it calm her, and the wind outside begins to die down.

The snow continues to fall, blanketing the world below, and the wind will return by the time the sun rises, not that she knows it. She is unaware of the world around her as she slowly falls back asleep.

She does not know of the prophecies, and she does not know the secrets her mother keeps. She sleeps, and she will need her rest when morning breaks.

The boy who speaks to ghosts does not understand what they tell him. The man who lives in the room with him, long dead and long forgotten, tells him of the forces that gather in the night.

He tells the boy of what is coming, what will ensue. He knows the rumors and the stories, and the boy needs all the help he can get, mow more than ever.

He tells the boy of what he knows, and they both hope it is enough. It will not be enough to stop what is coming. Nothing can deter the strings of fate from weaving together.