Has it started?
This was my first thought every morning for the past nine months—ever since they’d told the public about the Vision, and about their plan. My pulse pounded in my ears. Red numerals blinked from the handheld communicator on my bedside table.
10:04:21
Ten days, four hours, twenty-one minutes until the end of all things we knew—or so the Vision said. The Council had warned us they’d cut it close. They would make every second count. And after all the seconds had been used up, they would rewind time and give it another shot.
I hoped the rewinds had started. They’d probably waited too long. It would be too late to change things.
A red alert light blinked on the communicator. My heart stopped beating and dropped into my stomach. I accepted the incoming message and watched text scroll up the screen:
“Ashara Vinn: We are now in the fifth timeline, after having performed four time rewinds. Based on your performance in the last timeline, you have been assigned to the Ethereal task force. Please report to the Council building immediately.”
The fifth timeline?
They’d said I wouldn’t remember what happened—only the elders would remember everything—but I hadn’t expected this. I’d gone to bed yesterday in the original timeline, and now it was the fifth. That meant I’d experienced these last ten days four times already. And apparently, the Council had failed to avoid the end of the world each time, or else the rewinds would have ended.
I tapped the communicator against the table and checked it again. Damn thing must be malfunctioning. The Ethereal task force, it said—as in, a task force of ether manipulators. But I wasn’t an ether manipulator. I scanned the message a second time to make sure I hadn’t imagined it.
The red light blinked again as a new message arrived. It displayed on the screen: “Immediately.”
I leapt out of bed and froze in front of my dresser. What did people wear to the Council building? It would have helped if I knew exactly what I’d be doing there. I didn’t think I had any business clothing or dresses, at least none that I could locate. Perhaps casual would be more appropriate anyway. More versatile. Plus, it was burning up outside.
I yanked a sleeveless top and lightweight shorts from the dresser. I belted the waist and hooked my comm unit to the belt. Before leaving my shared bedroom, I kissed my six-year-old sister, Sona, on the forehead.
The soft sounds of my parents’ snoring floated into the small hallway. Mom would have wanted me to wake them, but I couldn’t bear to. She’d had so much trouble sleeping in the past nine months.
The Vision had hit her harder than anyone. Sometimes I caught her muttering curses about the Council, especially the head elder. And then my brother, Pace, died . . . If Mom was sleeping now, I wouldn’t wake her.
On the way out, I grabbed a brush from the bathroom and ran it through my dark hair a few times before tying the unruly curls into a ponytail.
At the doorway, I breathed in the smell of fresh air and flowers. The two suns had broken above the horizon, bathing the sky in red and yellow streaks.
I broke into a jog and raced through my home cluster. The wooden houses sat close together, separated by lawns and the occasional tree. Dirt walkways meandered through the grass, most leading nowhere in particular. I ignored them and made a straight path toward the edge of the cluster.
I dodged small children being ushered from their homes. Many of them yawned or rubbed their eyes with tiny fists. If their parents had assignments, these kids would be headed toward the community recreation center. My chest ached knowing they wouldn’t be with their parents during these last ten days—just like I wouldn’t be with mine now that I was going to the Council.
Most people in Vallara weren’t assigned anywhere. The Council had claimed they wanted us all to relax and spend time with our loved ones. With some exceptions, most adults with assignments were scientists, fighters, sociologists, and all kinds of doctors. The others had nothing but free time now. School had shut down. Manufacturing had shut down. And now my family and others spent their days together without school or work commitments.
I hadn’t been assigned before now. I was supposed to spend these last days with Sona and my parents, who had also made the “unskilled” list.
Now I was off that list and on the Ethereal task force.
I tore my eyes from the kids and steeled myself against the ache in my chest. We all had to make sacrifices for the good of the whole. The Council always stressed this.
It took me only a couple minutes to reach the widest dirt walkway inside the cluster and, from there, only a minute more to reach the low wooden fence marking the edge of our community.
A sleek black transport idled just outside, directly in my path. Its capsule-shaped body hovered several inches above the ground, emanating a steady hum. Beyond the tinted windows, a silhouette reclined in the backseat.
I moved to detour around the vehicle. The driver-side window slid down, and an impassive gentleman with hair graying at the temples peered out at me.
“Ashara Vinn?”
I slowed but didn’t stop. “Yes. That’s me.”
“Get in.” The vehicle door slid open. “I’m your Council transport.”
When I hesitated, he repeated his command, this time louder. “Get in.” He pointed upward to the sky. “We have no time to waste.”
I resisted the urge to look where he pointed. Numbers representing the countdown had been continuously projected in the sky for the past nine months—as if we needed a constant reminder other than our comm units.
The weight on my chest lifted a bit when I saw who was in the backseat—my distant cousin and best friend, Rey. We’d grown up together, since our mothers were so close and gave birth to us only two months apart.
“It’s okay, Ash. Get in.” As usual, Rey’s sleek dark hair was pulled back into a ponytail. His olive-skinned face shone with excitement.
“The trip is forty miles,” the driver said. “Eight minutes. We should arrive at the Council just in time for the morning briefing.”
Rey scooted to the other side of the vehicle, and I slipped in next to him. I tackled him into a tight hug and squeezed, letting his familiar arms comfort me. The door whirred as it closed, and the transport shot off toward the Council. Despite the dirt road in this region, the ride was smooth as the vehicle skimmed above the ground.
I finally released Rey from my hug. He chuckled and patted me on the back. His brow furrowed. “You’re going to the Council?”
“Looks like it.” I searched the inside of the door for a window control, but no switches marred the smooth metal surface. I raised my voice and called to the driver, “Will you put the window down please?”
I couldn’t help feeling excited to ride in a Council vehicle. I’d read about them at the University, a school for anyone over the age of twelve. But being unskilled according to Council standards, I never expected to ride in one.
The window glided down. I leaned away from it, expecting the wind to batter me at this speed. But the interior of the vehicle remained just as still as it had with the window up. I inched my head outside and felt little more than a soft breeze.
I peered downward. The vehicle’s flat, wheelless bottom flew just above the ground. A Breather transport. The driver, a Breather, was an air manipulator displacing the air to move us this fast. Twelve years ago, when Rey had first discovered he was a Breather, he spent a month chattering nonstop about getting one—as if he could afford a piece of equipment like this.
Rey had applied for a position at the Council once a year since the age of thirteen, but they hardly ever accepted unknown recruits. Most Council members belonged to families that had been involved with the Council when it formed, almost two centuries prior. The Vision apparently changed that, because the Council publicly asked all elemental practitioners—people who could manipulate the elements—to register their abilities. Rey had been the first one in line to do so, and he’d been recruited along with the few other practitioners I knew.
Rey shouldered me to the side and stuck his head out the window along with mine. “It’s amazing, isn’t it?” He leaned his body farther outside.
“Hey!” I grabbed him around the waist and anchored him to the seat. “Could you not do that? You’re going to give me a heart attack.” He pulled his torso back inside. “And you know you have a window on your side too.”
“Yeah, but I can’t annoy you from over there.” He flashed me his lopsided grin. My mouth twitched though I tried not to return the smile. That trademark grin of his, along with the shining dark hair, had proved a winner with the ladies in the past few years. He was like a brother to me, but even I couldn’t resist a smile when he gave me that grin.
My stomach lurched as I caught sight of the trees rushing past us beside the road. I’d never moved this fast before. My insides didn’t appreciate it.
I pulled my head inside the vehicle. Rey and I leaned back in our seats, and the window slid up into place. For a few minutes, we sat in silence in the backseat. I twisted my fingers in my lap as Rey mutely examined the interior—which was odd for him since I usually had to beg him to shut his mouth.
Our driver stared straight ahead, his back stiff. I wondered if everyone at the Council was like that. Cold and detached. They’d always claimed there was nothing hush-hush going on behind their doors. They worked for the people, protected the people. They also set rules for elemental practitioners. Those rules had never concerned me since I wasn’t a practitioner.
But the way the Vision was announced—after the Council’s plans to deal with it were already under way—I now wondered how much I really knew about this allegedly benevolent body of practitioners and scientists.
“So you’re going to the Council?” Rey asked again. “I thought only elemental practitioners were supposed to be there today.”
My pulse sped up again, just when I’d gotten it under control. “I’m on the Ethereal task force.”
“You’re an ether manipulator?” His mouth dropped open. “Wow, okay. How come you’re just now telling me this?”
“First of all, we don’t know that. It’s probably a mistake. And second, I got the message just fifteen minutes ago, on my comm.”
“You’ve been in this transport for almost five minutes. ‘Ethereal task force’ should have been the first words out of your mouth. This is how the conversation should have gone: ‘Hi, Rey. You look remarkably handsome today. Guess what. I’m on the Ethereal task force.’ Just like that.”
“I have a lot on my mind.”
“Like being an Ethereal?”
“I don’t think so. I’m probably just helping with their organization or something.”
“Oh, that must be it. They pulled your school records, and based on your numerous courses that have absolutely nothing to do with politics or leadership, they decided that your organizational skills were unmatched.”
I scowled at him. “Sarcasm is not nice.”
He snatched my comm from my belt and hit the recall button twice until the message I’d received first thing this morning scrolled across the screen. “Based on your performance in the last timeline? What does that even mean—you displayed Ethereal ability?”
I shrugged. “Or I demonstrated some kind of leadership skill that would be useful to the group.”
He raised a skeptical eyebrow. “You’re eighteen. They have elders and experienced practitioners to handle leadership roles. The only reason you’d be assigned to that task force is if you’re an Ethereal.”
I kept my face blank and pretended not to agree with him, but I’d been thinking the same thing. Either I was an Ethereal, or someone high up at the Council thought I was. My entire body felt light, like this was a dream.
Elemental practice didn’t run in my blood. Rey inherited it from his father, the side of his family I didn’t share blood with. I wasn’t supposed to be anything, let alone an Ethereal. I hadn’t been trained. I didn’t even have a working understanding of the science behind it. Rey, on the other hand, had been practicing and basking in the semi-fame that came with his Breather ability for the past twelve years.
I hung my head between my knees for the remainder of the trip, concentrating on breathing evenly, and definitely not panicking.