Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
EMMA
A hundred years into the future.
One moment, the portal’s energy curled around me—cool, electric, like a breath held too long—and the next, I was weightless, untethered, crossing into another world. The shift was smooth, but it left the strange sensation that time had exhaled and forgotten to inhale again.
As I took in my new surroundings, a wave of emotion slammed into me—visceral and hard, as if grief itself had been lying in wait. My breath hitched, caught somewhere between disbelief and devastation.
We stood at the edge of fucking ruin.
The remnants of a forgotten city sprawled before us—shattered buildings slouched against one another like broken ribs, metal and glass scattered like the splinters of a civilization which had once stood tall and defiant.
Warm wind whispered through the wreckage, carrying a silence that felt more like an accusation than an absence.
Tears welled in my eyes, unbidden, drawn by the violence etched into every ruptured surface. The sky above was a dull, bruised gray, as if even the heavens mourned the tragedy that had unfolded here. There was a heaviness in the air, a sense of loss so palpable it was almost suffocating.
“Welcome to a hundred years into the future,” Stephen said quietly, grieved by a sadness deeper than I had ever heard from him.
“Where are we?” I whispered, my voice barely audible.
“You don’t recognize it?” he asked before turning to me, his usually vibrant presence dimmed by sorrow.
I shook my head slowly, the unfamiliar landscape too demolished to resemble anything I knew.
“This is what used to be Cyclos,” he replied softly—and the nervous fluttering in my chest dropped like stones.
I gasped, the realization hitting me like a physical blow, the air rushing from my lungs. Cyclos—the Collective I knew, full of life and culture—reduced to no more than rubble. The shock was overwhelming, and for a moment, I could do nothing but stare, my heart pounding in disbelief.
“How?” I asked, barely able to push the word past the lump in my throat.
“War,” Stephen said, the emotional scars of memories to come already etched on his features. “War with Radicals, war with humans, war actions and retaliations. It will spiral out of control, until there is nothing left to save. No more Metasphere, it’s all part now of the Human World.”
“That’s all very fascinating, but what are we doing here? This isn’t where Sapere is located,” Caden remarked dryly, then crossed his arms—inked forearms flexing slightly, the curve of his biceps defined beneath his sleeves.
“Sapere?” I asked warily, still reeling from the devastation around us.
“Sapere Aude will be a mixed school in New York, where humans and magi reside,” Stephen explained. “It’s the place where we found what we were looking for.”
Well, at least he wasn’t being cryptic.
I frowned, trying to piece together the fragments of information swirling in my mind. “Sapere Aude. Like written on the gate at the First Layer of Cyclos?”
Stephen nodded, all seriousness. “Yes, exactly. That gate will be used in the future to protect the school. It will provide a Layer of Protection, though it’s quite different from what it is in our time.”
The gate at Cyclos had always appeared ancient, powerful, but the idea of it being connected to a place in the future, a school where humans and magi coexisted—it was both intriguing and terrifying.
“So what are we looking for?” I asked, feeling a mix of curiosity and unease.
“And why are we here?” James added.
“We’re here because Emma needed to see this,” Stephen replied, glancing my way with an intensity that made my stomach twist. “And we’re here because the students of Sapere have an outing here today, and very fascinating stuff is about to happen.”
He paused, letting his words sink in before continuing. “Let’s watch this scene unfold itself. I think, Emma, you’ll come to understand what our concerns are and why we did what we did.”
As if on cue, two buses appeared in the distance, their engines rumbling softly as they approached.
They came to a stop, and the doors swung open, releasing a wave of students into the decaying landscape.
Their voices echoed through the empty streets, clearly unaware of the shadows lingering in this place.
It was as if they had brought a piece of the past with them, a small pocket of normalcy in a world that had long since lost it.
It made me kind of smile.
“You see those three?” Stephen pointed to a small group standing a little apart from the others. Two girls and a guy, their youthful faces illuminated by the soft light of the overcast sky.
I nodded, my focus following his gesture.
“That one is Mila,” Stephen continued, focused on one of the girls. “She’s the one we need to follow.”
I watched the whole group with keen interest. They all moved with confidence, almost too casual for high school kids.
The girl at the center of the group—Mila—had a striking presence.
Her skin was pale, almost porcelain, and it made the deep black of her hair and the bright blue of her eyes stand out even more.
There was a quickness to her movements, a kind of restless energy in the way she talked with her hands, laughed a little too loudly, and pulled attention to her without even trying.
Beside her stood another girl—quieter, but just as hard to miss.
Her dark brown hair fell in thick waves around her face, and her skin was a warm, rich brown, making her dark eyes seem even deeper.
She didn’t move as much as Mila, didn’t try to hold the spotlight, but there was a calm self-assurance in the way she watched the others.
You could tell she was the kind of person people listened to when she finally chose to speak.
A little apart from them stood a boy, lean and quiet, with clean-cut features and a kind of understated grace.
There was something soft about him—maybe the way his expression drifted or the way he held his arms too close to his sides—but it didn’t feel fragile.
He stared out at the ruins of Cyclos with a look that hollowed him out.
I could hear the conversation between the girls as if I was standing next to them.
“Oh look, Silvia!” Mila suddenly pointed skyward like she’d spotted a miracle.
Silvia shaded her eyes. “What?”
“There!” Mila said, practically vibrating with fake excitement.
“What what?” Silvia asked, suspicious now.
“You seriously don’t see it?” Mila teased, nudging her.
“See what, Mila?” Silvia demanded, squinting harder.
“Cupid,” Mila said solemnly. “Descending from the heavens to ship you and Travis into holy romance.”
Silvia groaned. “Cupid needs better taste.”
“Or maybe he simply knows a perfect match when he sees one,” Mila shot back. “Didn’t you literally swoon when Travis said ‘hi’ last week?”
“I smiled politely,” Silvia muttered, but the tips of her ears were pink.
“Sure. Right before you tripped over your own feet and said ‘good morning’ at four p.m.”
Silvia pretended to be fascinated by the sky. “I hate you.”
“No you don’t,” Mila said sweetly. “You love me. Almost as much as you love—”
“Don’t.”
“Travis.”
Pierre strolled over with a sigh like this wasn’t even his first romantic ambush of the day. “Are we emotionally blackmailing Silvia again?”
“We’re trying to get her to accept love into her heart,” Mila corrected. “Through bullying.”
“It’s very effective,” Silvia said dryly, cheeks still crimson. “Though I doubt it would work on Travis.”
Pierre looked at her. “You’re doing the thing again.”
“What thing?” Silvia blinked innocently.
“Where your voice goes all soft and sparkly when you say his name.”
“It does not!”
“It absolutely does,” Mila grinned. “Say it again.”
“No!”
“Travis,” Mila whispered, fluttering her eyelashes.
Silvia shoved her. “Stop it!”
“Okay, okay.” Mila backed off with her hands raised. “We’ll stop embarrassing you…for now.”
Pierre sighed. “Where’s Loverboy, anyway?”
Silvia’s head snapped up. “He was over there a minute ago.”
“Probably hiding from his dad,” Mila said. “Or from the crushing weight of emotional vulnerability.”
Pierre laughed and gave her a friendly pat on the back.
Mila jolted like she’d been burned. A guttural cry escaped her throat as she staggered half a step forward, clutching her side like she'd been hit.
Pierre froze. “Whoa—what the hell? Did I hurt you?”
Mila’s face went blank too quickly. “No—no, I’m fine,” she said, too fast, too bright. “You pat like a linebacker, apparently.” She threw in a smile, but it was tight, and her gaze wouldn’t quite meet his.
Pierre glanced down at his stick-thin arms and snorted. “Yeah, okay.” Still laughing, he turned and followed Silvia, who had conveniently wandered straight into Travis’s gravitational pull.
I watched as Mila took a moment to recover, her relief evident as she regrouped before catching up with the rest of the group.
“What was her reaction about? What happened?” I whispered to Stephen.
Stephen smiled. “You don’t have to whisper. They can’t see or hear you. Keep your sights on Mila, what happens next is very important.”
As if born from thin air, a very handsome figure appeared behind Mila. He looked a few years older than her—about our age—with pitch-black hair and pale green eyes, almost too sharp for his smooth, elegant features.
His focus locked onto Mila, steady and unreadable, and when he spoke, his tone was cold, measured, and impossible to ignore. “What the hell was that?”
Mila turned around quickly, her face a mask of surprise and unease.
“You’re hurting.” His deep voice sounded flat, and devoid of concern.
“Of course not,” Mila replied lightly, but the edge in her words gave her away. Her smile wavered. Her eyes didn’t.
He stepped closer—too close.
I could almost hear her heartbeat stutter.
“Tell me what’s wrong,” he said quietly, “or I’ll rip your shirt off and find out myself.”
What the fuck?