With it, Stephen conjured a new portal, its swirling depths inviting. We gathered around him, the portal's light casting its blue glow over our faces. Without hesitation, I stepped through the shimmering threshold, feeling the now familiar, cool tingle of the portal’s energy against my skin.
FIFTEEN
EMMA
A hundred years and six months into the future
As we stepped through to the other side, the world around us shifted once more. Before me loomed a gate, its iron bars cold and imposing. Above it, the words 'Sapere Aude' were boldly emblazoned, challenging and ominous.
This had to be the mixed school of humans and magi, Stephen had spoken of.
A little further down, James and Caden stood in tense silence, their expressions grim, as if they already knew the horrors we were about to face and were dreading every moment of it.
Stephen gave a brief nod, urging us forward. We obeyed, then walked in wordless tension for what seemed like an eternity, though it was only ten minutes. Our footsteps echoed in the emptiness until we finally arrived at a desolate stretch of road, waiting for something—or someone.
The sky was a deepening shade of twilight, the sun having dipped below the horizon but leaving behind a haunting, mutedglow that bathed our surroundings in an eerie light. The shadows grew long and sinister, stretching across the buildings and empty sidewalks.
I shivered as the cool, damp air of the abandoned street seeped through my clothes. James noticed and, without a word, gave me his jacket. The fabric was warm and comforting against the chill, and I accepted it with a grateful nod.
An elderly couple emerged from one of the apartment buildings, walking toward us with a gentle grace. The woman had her arm hooked through her husband’s, and their smiles spoke of years of shared joy.
As they strolled, the woman reached into her purse and pulled out some money. The man leaned in and kissed her cheek in a tender gesture that radiated warmth. But the sweet moment made the woman stumble in surprise, causing her to drop the money.
It clattered into a nearby sewer grate with an audible clink. Her gaze widened in distress, and she gasped at the loss.
The man’s grin widened, and with a flick of his hand, an orange haze shot out. The haze shimmered, and in an instant, the money reappeared back in the woman’s hand. She looked at him, amusement in her eyes. “You think that’s sanitary?” she asked with a hint of skepticism.
He chuckled, his laughter warm and reassuring. I couldn’t help but smile at their interaction.
The couple continued on, turning a corner as we followed behind them.
Out of nowhere, at least ten figures emerged from the shadows, each clad in dark blue tactical armor with pale accents, their movements precise and mechanical.
The armor was sleek but reinforced, clearly molded for speed and force, with high collars and matte plating over their chests, shoulders, and thighs. A subtle emblem—a stylized crown fusedwith crosshairs—was stamped on their shoulders, catching the light like a silent warning.
Their helmets were off, clipped to their belts, revealing cold, disciplined faces. Not a flicker of uncertainty between them. Their features were cut harsh and merciless: sharp cheekbones, sunken eyes that gleamed like glass, mouths set in hard, humorless lines. Even the younger ones wore an air of practiced cruelty—a kind of dead-eyed patience reserved for those who knew how tobreaka person, and how fast.
Only one bore the deep lines of age, but none needed wrinkles to telegraph the truth: they were predators, bred for violence and blind obedience.
James hissed under his breath, "Trackers."
Stephen's disposition hardened, his expression flashing with anger and disdain as he took in the sight of the approaching people.
“What are they?” I mumbled, my voice barely audible over the growing tension. But the others ignored me, their focus solely on the newcomers, who moved with a cold precision to the elderly couple.
“Well, well, well,” the leader of the group addressed the couple with a smirk, his tone dripping with mockery. “What do we have here?”
He paused for clear dramatic effect.
“Our sensors indicated,” the leader continued, his gaze narrowing with suspicion, “there’s been some unauthorized translation activity.”
“Nothing out of the ordinary, sir,” the man replied, his tone far more polite than the Tracker’s harsh demeanor warranted.
“Really?” The leader rolled his shoulders. “Because my sensor detected money materializing out of thin air. Aren’t you familiar with the Magi’s Code of Conduct? Rule 27.a. is very clear—no translating money to prevent our society from collapsing due to inflation.”
“I am familiar with this rule, sir, and with its reasoning,” the man said, trying to remain calm, “but the money that appeared here?—”
“Aha! So you admit you made money appear?” The leader interrupted, a smirk playing at the corners of his mouth.
