Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Oh Devil (by Electric Guest)

“Ooh, devil, I know you're afraid / Sometimes it's hard to learn from all your mistakes.”

Cyrus’s life had always been backward. And he didn’t mean figuratively. 

It was all a blur— how he’d started — but all he knew for sure was that his life had begun in the future. Literally the future, so far into the future that it was otherwise known as the end of everything. It had been his curse, to live backward. To live in the same existence as Merlin, who was his future self— born at the very start of the past, mirroring him even from the beginning. It was the only life he’d ever known, and anything before that . . .  if there was anything before that, was utterly blank. 

To most, he was Emrys. The Timeless One. With all the power he had, the ability to go anywhere in time, he could do just about anything. He could travel just about everywhere, whether it was to the past or the future. There were no limits. But the one thing — the one thing he wanted most in the world — he couldn’t even have. And that was his family. The Old Ones. The Eternal Ones. They went by many names.

And no, they hadn’t abandoned him! They hadn’t had a choice, when it’d come to leaving him. It was all the humans’ fault. His family told him so, when he was able to visit them using Time magic, hearing bits and pieces of the way humans had brought about their downfall. Not once had Cyrus ever stopped to think that his family could be lying— that humans could have done literally nothing wrong. That his own family were the monsters— him included. 

After going to Atlantis and seeing the events unroll for himself, Cyrus had never felt such disgust. Usually that disgust was directed towards humans, because if there was a book explaining the awfulness of the human species, Cyrus had read it. Front to back. A million times over. Oh, yeah, and he’d been wrong. He’d been heartbroken, too, after learning his family just lied to him, lied to him like Cyrus had lied to humans. He’d always thought he was the one doing the right thing, but looking back on his life, Cyrus found himself regretting almost everything. 

Maybe the one thing he didn’t regret was his decision to go to the Oppenheimer school, even if it had been for the purposes of manipulating a few people. Humans were lesser than Old Ones, he’d thought, but it was actually sort of nice to see them in action, to see them do magic. Almost cute, like pets. Not that they’d ever be as powerful as him or his family. No one in this world could ever be his equal, could ever do anything to surprise Cyrus, because he’d see it all coming. Wrong again. 

Then came Fort, the boy who Cyrus remembered from that day on Stonehedge, mumbling incoherent things about friendship and bears. He hadn’t seen Fort coming. Even more surprisingly, he hadn’t expected that they were destined to be friends from the start. Best friends. And he’d never admit it, because the Old Ones weren’t supposed to call humans friends, no matter how good they seemed. Even the fact that Cyrus would pretend to be Fort’s friend would’ve sent his family into an angry turmoil, so that’s all it was, he told himself. 

Pretend. 

For some reason, in a way that no human ever had, this new kid made him want to laugh. Not laugh at him, in the cruel way that his family might laugh at humans. He wanted to support him and stand up for him and learn more about him. It was really his job to learn more about him, Cyrus told himself. But it definitely wasn’t his job for his heart to constantly squeeze at the sight of him, which he always brushed off as a slight affection for a human that’d go away once his family returned.

It didn’t go away. Although their whole friendship was meant to be fake, it was starting to feel very real to Cyrus, and for a while, it felt like he wasn’t faking it at all. He knew it could never work out in the end, though. And he was right. Fort finding out that Cyrus had been an Old One was maybe one of the worst days of Cyrus’s life. Fort wasn’t supposed to know. Him knowing not only meant Cyrus would be forced to fight him— which he couldn’t do— and it also meant . . . it also meant Fort would hate him. And oh, how he hated him. 

He underestimated just how much Fort would hate him. Same with his other friends. Rachel and Jia had no choice in finding out that Cyrus was the Timeless One. There was no avoiding it, not when Merlin had made it clear they were going to fight him. Fighting them was a little easier than it had been fighting Fort, but not by much. With his oversized cloak covering his face and body, it was easy to dissociate, easy to pretend he’d never felt anything for these people he was fighting. Easy to remember why he was doing this— so his family could be free.

And then Fort had arrived, and Cyrus felt like he’d been punched. 

After it all had been over, he didn’t blame Jia for ratting him out to the Faerie Queen. It was about time the Queen got her revenge, anyway, after his older self had cursed her children. He didn’t realize until later, until he was locked up in her prison cell, that he wished Rachel and Jia never found out, either, because it just meant losing more friends. Not that Cyrus had admitted that. Or had admitted to having human friends— at least, not until long after the last battle in D.C. and Maryland. 

A lot had changed since then. For one, the original magic had been restored to the entire world, allowing anyone to perform any type of magic they wished. And not just the kids born on and after Discovery Day. For once, this included the adults. It was how magic was supposed to be— how it used to be, before his family ‘brought order to chaos’, and then made up a lie that they’d been forced to take all the magic for themselves, all to stop the humans from attacking them. It was because of them they’d destroyed Atlantis, along with everyone who lived in it. 

So now, it felt right that everyone could do all types of magic, from Healing to Time to Destruction. Cyrus had kept it small when doing magic— he’d tested out every form (aside from Spirit magic, which disgusted him), but only when he needed to. It was silly. He knew he wasn’t more powerful than anyone else, which should comfort him. But the truth was, he hadn’t touched Time magic since he was twelve. 

As if afraid it might . . . make him scary and bitter and vengeful, because using that power again would make him feel like an Old One again, or something ridiculous like that. Or worse, he’d catch one glimpse of power and start following his family’s wishes. All of Cyrus’s development would go down the drain. But that was stupid. He’d changed enough over the last three years that he could tell he’d never go back to helping his family again. But still, as much as he missed being able to move through time and see into the future . . . he didn’t want to risk his chances. 

Thinking of the way he used to manipulate humans showered Cyrus with guilt, and he was finally starting to understand why Merlin acted the way he did. Even if the thought of his future self sometimes still made him flare up with annoyance, after all this time. But if his future self’s existence was any indication, it meant Cyrus wouldn’t go back to his family— or to his old ways, which kind of comforted him as much as it discomforted him. For the first time in his life, he had no clear goal. And no idea what he was doing. 

The only thing Cyrus definitely was sure of was that he didn’t want to feel like an Old One again. But no matter where he went, it seemed, there were people to remind him of his mistakes. 

Like right now. Because he was currently running for his life, a group of faeries charging in behind him. It wasn’t the first time the Faerie Queen had sent her children after Cyrus, and probably wouldn’t be the last. Cyrus would think she’d be happy that her children were finally restored to their rightful ages, but unfortunately, she seemed to have an endless flow of rage whenever she ran into Cyrus.

It’d been a mistake to go near where the Tylwyth Teg were living. It was just a small island in the UK known as Wales, which didn’t work out well for Cyrus, who’d been exploring the UK. Every inch of it, since he’d returned to London several months ago. Wales was his next stop. He’d been planning to visit the UK school for magic, which was in Carmarthen, one of the oldest cities in Wales. It was also where Merlin was said to be from, in legends. 

And who knew, maybe he could tour his old school again, assuming it was still up and running. With the Utopia School for Magic officially opening two years ago, and the Carmarthen school being pretty much destroyed, Cyrus doubted it’d even been repaired. Not when there was no use for it, with the seven books of magic being destroyed. He assumed that all the other Clairvoyance students had transferred to the US to teach at the new school. He knew Ellora was there, so she could’ve asked any of them for help. 

Leaving out Simon and William, of course. Cyrus had never liked them very much. He didn’t remember too much about Ellora aside from when they’d gone to school together, back before he’d transferred to the old Oppenheimer school. But he could definitely see why Fort liked her so much— they’d had a few classes together, her and Cyrus, and she’d seemed nice. But that had been before all the Time students had gotten lost in time, all due to Cyrus’s careful planning. Kind of embarrassing to think about when he remembered all the things his past self had done! 

When visiting Wales, it’d kind of slipped his mind that the Faerie Queen and her children might be somewhere around there, their home newly-built out of magic. And apparently, the island wasn’t big enough for the two of them. The minute Cyrus had stepped through his teleportation circle and set foot on Wales, the sky turned to thunder above his head, so suddenly that he was sure it was from magic. 

And that was when the Faerie Queen herself emerged out of thin air. Two faeries stood at her side, guarding her. She sneered down at Cyrus, who was a great deal shorter than her. “How dare you come here, Timeless One.” 

Cyrus glanced over her shoulder, recognizing the road they were standing on as the one that led to the UK school. Beyond the road was the circular driveway, which following that, led to a white stone school in the shape of an L. Now seeing it in person, the actual school itself didn’t look any more damaged than when he’d left it. Deserted, maybe, but not damaged. To outsiders, it might’ve seemed like the school was haunted. But nothing like that had ever scared Cyrus— not when he was haunted all the time by things he and his family had wrongly done.

He could see the lake there too, in the distance— the same one he’d used to sit in front of, sometimes just to talk to himself. The other students had probably thought he was crazy, but Cyrus had been labeled as the weird kid at every school. Not that that’d ever bothered him. He’d always quite liked that people thought he was crazy or loony or any of the other adjectives. It helped keep up with his facade, so it was good people didn’t suspect anything else from him, right? Or that’s what he’d told himself, anyway. 

The grounds were huge and open, with plenty of hiding spots on the inside of the school. So if he could just teleport around the Faerie Queen . . . 

“Are you looking away from me?” the queen seethed, and the ground began to shake so hard that Cyrus struggled to keep his balance. “When I am addressing you?” 

Cyrus had almost forgotten she’d been there. He looked back at her, his temper rising quickly enough to rival the way he felt around Merlin— it always seemed to be close to the surface around his enemies (not that Merlin was an enemy anymore, but even now, Cyrus still couldn’t help getting a little irritated at the thought of him). “I’m just here to visit the Carmarthen school. Do you have an issue with that?” 

“Of course I do, Emrys.” He instantly cringed, wishing she wouldn’t call him that— just another reminder of his former identity as an Old One. “My people live here now, so I’d prefer it if you didn’t try coming near them, even if it was your future self who froze them in time. I have your family locked away. I should really lock you away, too.” She smiled coldly. “Or maybe I’ll just kill you for trespassing.” 

The thought of being locked away, in the same vicinity of his family, was enough to make Cyrus shudder. Everything else she’d said didn’t really effect him. “Really? You would threaten me? Wasn’t keeping me in your prison enough punishment?”

The queen almost laughed. “Certainly not! The human boy bargained with me to let you out far too soon. You were supposed to be in my prison for centuries to pay for your crimes. Fortunately, he never said I couldn’t lock you up again.” 

“Lock me up for what? I’m not trespassing!”

“Oh, but you are. The entire United Kingdom is my childrens’ home now. We may live only in a section of it, but you’ve come too close as it is. I won’t allow you to get away this time.”

There were few people in the world who could get Cyrus really angry these days, and the Faerie Queen was one of them. He narrowed his eyes. “If you’re so worried about me doing anything to your people, you’ve got the wrong version of me! It’s Merlin you should look out for— he’s the one who froze them in time.” 

She stared at him, and he could feel something warm inside his head, like the way the sun felt on a hot day. “I see you’re telling the truth. But still, you are the same person, so I feel it doesn’t make much difference which version of you I lock up.” She waved a hand, then, and suddenly a group of six faeries were at her side, not looking the least bit surprised they were there. The faerie queen pointed a finger at Cyrus. “Get the Old One of Time! He’s here to curse us again in his younger form!” 

Again, why did she have to call him that? 

One of the faerie’s eyes widened like she recognized Cyrus, and groaned like she was extremely annoyed with the task. To his surprise, she disappeared out of thin air. He braced himself, thinking she was teleporting closer to him to gain an advantage. But the faerie didn’t appear anywhere near him. The other ones, though, were running towards him, while the faerie queen just stood there behind them with a face of thunder. 

Cyrus’s first thought jumped to freezing them in time, or moving himself a few minutes into the future so he could get away. He immediately shot those ideas down. Wasn’t he trying to not be his old self again? Using his Time powers in a fight would definitely just lead to destruction, and as much as the Faerie Queen annoyed him, he didn’t want to do something that’d prove her point. Her point that he was here to curse her children, when he wasn’t. If anything, that would make her more angry, and Cyrus would have even less of a chance to escape.

So, buying himself some time to think of something better, he turned and ran. The only direction to go was away from the Carmarthen school, but he’d really prefer to go towards it. Maybe if he ran long enough one direction and lost the faeries for even a second, Cyrus could quickly teleport somewhere inside the school, so the faeries would keep thinking he was going in one direction. But how long would it last before they’d follow him? They could detect magic, so they’d definitely be able to tell if Cyrus teleported somewhere. 

He had to think smarter. He needed a distraction. Some way to not get detected when he teleported away. 

But before he had the chance, a magical blast hit him square in the back, sending him flying. As he slammed into the road, pain exploding through his body, he was struck by how easily it’d hurt. Cyrus guessed it made sense— it was the outcome of no longer being an Old One, of being a species similar to a human — an Atlantean — with no kind of invincibility or higher power. If he used his Time magic now, he wondered, would it be just as powerful as when he was the Timeless One? Ugh. He really needed to stop thinking about using Time magic. 

His head pounding, Cyrus quickly rolled to the side, just in time for another magical blast to whiz by him. Okay, he needed a way to get out of here. Now. And since he could do any type of magic he wanted, it shouldn’t be too hard, right? Suddenly, the image of fighting Fort, Rachel, and Jia three years ago flew into his head. Fort had used a spell to duplicate Rachel, which Cyrus had seen coming, of course, but maybe the faeries wouldn’t. Thank you, Fort! 

Duplicate me, Cyrus thought, willing the magic to do it for him. One moment, he was standing there alone. And the next, maybe twenty Cyrus’s appeared out of thin air, all of them mirroring Cyrus’s movements. Unable to hold back a grin, he opened a teleportation circle and watched as all the other Cyrus’s did the same. He asked the magic again to teleport each of them to different locations nearby, and hurried through the portal, landing on the lawn on the other side of the UK school. 

He glanced around. For now, no faeries had followed. Just him. But if the faeries were going to follow each Cyrus, it’d only be a matter of time before they found where the real one was. Was it better to hide inside the school, or go somewhere further away, somewhere less close to the Faerie Queen? Cyrus edged around the side of the building, peering around the white stone. Sure enough, he could see the Faerie Queen still standing there just down the driveway. Above her, the sky grew darker, rumbling with more and more thunder. 

Cyrus backed away, his mind racing. It was probably smarter to just teleport farther away— much farther away. But even if he went back to England, who was to say they wouldn’t follow him there, too? Under the queen’s orders, they wouldn’t stop searching until they found him. Wait. There was a small town nearby, one that he’d seen once on his way to the Carmarthen school. If he teleported there and hid somewhere, where there were a lot of people around, the faeries would probably lose him. 

Yeah, that sounded good. First he just needed to get a little farther from the Faerie Queen, and then— 

“Cyrus!”

Cyrus gasped. The familiarity of the voice sent a wave of something like . . . comfort, rushing down Cyrus’s spine. He’d recognize it anywhere. He turned to see none other than Fort Fitzgerald standing there in the late morning sun, blinking against the bright rays that fell across the grass. The teleportation circle he must’ve stepped out of closed right behind him. Cyrus felt himself wanting to smile, or laugh, because of course Fort had found him here. In general, he was the only one who seemed to want to find him. How had he known Cyrus was in trouble, let alone, where Cyrus was? 

“Fort?” The name rolled easily off of Cyrus’s tongue, and he didn’t keep track of the excitement — or shock — in his own voice. “What are you doing here?”

“What’s going on? Xenea said—“ And then Fort’s eyes landed on something beyond them, and his eyes widened. “Cyrus, what's going on?” 

Cyrus followed his gaze, wincing. Duplicating himself had bought him some time, but the faeries must’ve had no trouble finding the real him. They must’ve detected him using magic, because they were closing in, spotting Cyrus across the clearing. He reached for Fort’s hand. “Come on, we have to go!” 

“What's happening?”

“Come on!” 

Wasting no time, Cyrus booked it across the lawn, heading back towards the UK school, where he remembered there was a back entrance. The faeries would obviously follow them in, but if they could get in there long enough to teleport away, losing them could work. Luckily, Fort didn’t object. He ran right beside Cyrus, glancing nervously at the faeries, who looked angrier than they had several minutes ago. Reaching the large wooden door, Cyrus turned the knob a few times, groaning when he realized it was locked. Fort, though, moved in beside him, grabbing the knob once Cyrus had let it go. 

“Here, I got it.” A bright glow came from Fort’s hand, spreading to the knob. He turned it again, and this time, it opened. Both of the boys stumbled inside, and Fort slammed the door behind them. He whirled back towards Cyrus. “Okay, what’s going on?” 

Cyrus shook his head, still trying to catch his breath. “There’s no time to explain. We need to leave before they get here." He jammed a thumb towards the door. 

Fort nodded. “Okay.” He raised his hands, as if preparing to ask the magic to teleport them. “Where do you want to go?”

“A town nearby. It’s—“

“Nearby? If you want to get rid of them, we’ll need to go far away!” 

“I know!” Cyrus shouted. “But I just got here!”

“So?”

“So I wanted to visit Wales, and see my old school, and—“ He cut himself off, knowing Fort might not be easily convinced by that. “The town will have more people, okay? It’ll be easier to hide there."

“Fine, just— just hurry.” 

Cyrus did. Imagining the town in his head, he spread his hands out in front of him, and suddenly found himself staring at a picturesque coffee shop— the only part of town that Cyrus actually remembered being in. Shouts from outside brought him back to focus, so he hurriedly stepped through the portal, Fort following behind him closely. It wasn’t quick enough. On the other side of the portal, the door of the school burst open, revealing several angry-looking faeries. 

“Close it!” Fort shouted, but Cyrus was already leaping forward. Still not enough time. One of the faeries threw himself straight at Cyrus, tackling him to the ground. Worse, the portal stayed open. With Cyrus and the faerie still on the ground, the rest of the faeries took the opportunity to fly through the portal, joining them on the sidewalk. This was bad. 

Fort ran over to Cyrus, grabbing the faeries arm. “Get off of him!”

He attempted to pull the faerie off Cyrus, but the faerie — a full-grown adult, who appeared as old as the Faerie Queen — was stronger, holding Cyrus’s arms down so forcefully that he couldn’t move them if he tried. But the good news was that he could use his legs. He kicked the faerie in the stomach, hard enough to make the faerie’s grip loosen, at least just a little. Fort reached for the faerie again, but two more grabbed him by the arms, holding him in place. They were outnumbered. Outnumbered by a lot. 

Cyrus felt the blood rush from his face. Oh no. He couldn’t let Fort get dragged into this! If the faeries caught them both and took them back to the Faerie Queen, there was no telling what she’d do to Fort. Sure, she was more likely to listen to Fort than she was to Cyrus, but the queen didn’t seem to care much for any humans. So he had to protect Fort, keep him out of danger. She could hurt Cyrus, but if she tried hurting his best friend . . . 

Anger burst through Cyrus. All of the sudden, a strong gust of wind blew through the air, so powerful that it knocked the faerie holding him away, sending him airborne. The other faeries, unable to keep their balance, were sent flying too, all of them landing a couple feet away down the sidewalk. Surprise filled him. Had he done that? He didn’t practice elemental magic often (in this case, Destruction) so he felt more confused than anything else. And then his eyes landed on Fort, standing above him, and it clicked.

“You did that?” Cyrus asked, unable to keep the awe from his voice.

“Yep. Rachel’s been helping me.” Fort grinned at him, and reached for Cyrus’s arm, helping him up. They both turned to look at the faeries, who were starting to pick themselves up, clearly not happy with being thrown halfway down the sidewalk. Fort yanked him back into a run. “Let’s go!” 

“You cannot escape from us, Timeless One!” one of the faeries shouted, and Cyrus glanced over his shoulder to see they were all starting to push themselves back off the ground. He growled softly. This would be so much easier if he could just freeze time or something! And the problem was that he could, he just didn’t trust himself enough to do it.

They sprinted for what felt like forever, weaving down streets and ducking around unsuspecting people, who screamed once they saw the faeries. Every so often, magic would come hurtling towards Fort and Cyrus, and they’d jump out of the way, sometimes using their own magic in an attempt to get rid of the faeries. Some of it was slowing them down, like when Fort shot a fireball at them, or turned the sky into a hailstorm to make it harder for the faeries to run after them. It was becoming clearer that they needed to hide somewhere, and fast. 

“In there!” Fort shouted as they turned the next corner. He was pointing at a building to their left— a cinema.

Passing the ticketbooth (and ignoring the girl working there, who yelled at them to buy tickets), they quickly ran inside, pressing their backs against the wall next to the sliding doors. The movie theater was small, with a little popcorn (and candy) stand off to the side, and four auditoriums. Despite the cinema being relatively close to the Carmarthen school, Cyrus had never been here. He hadn’t really been to that many movie theaters in general, if he was being honest. 

Fort thought the faeries probably hadn’t seen them enter, that they’d be fine hiding behind the wall, just long enough for the faeries to pass by. But Cyrus didn’t want to take his chances. The Twylth Teg had a strong sense of smell. Stronger than humans’ sense of smell, he remembered, so they could probably follow Fort and Cyrus just by their scents. If they were trying to hide, it was better to go somewhere the faeries wouldn’t find them. Somewhere crowded, with lots of other smells. Somewhere they’d be invisible, like . . .

And then Cyrus’s eyes landed on one of the auditoriums. A small, glowing sign was above it, labeled “Paddington 2, 12:30.” Perfect. 

Running across the room, he pulled Fort inside the nearest auditorium, which was flooded with loud, cheerful music. They hurried further inside the dimly-lit theater, crouching low as they scrambled up the steps. The only seats left next to each other were high up in the very back, near the edge of the row, and they quickly hustled up the stairs, almost too quickly for their legs to coordinate. Definitely too quickly for Cyrus, who nearly stumbled on them in the darkness, and would’ve tripped if Fort hadn’t grabbed his arm at the last second. 

They reached the row, then, muttering apologies as they stepped around a few adults, who gave them dirty looks, probably annoyed their movie was being interrupted. Not that Cyrus cared. Fort sunk into a seat first, and Cyrus did the same, both of the boys breathing hard from their run. But they barely had time to recover. Because confirming Cyrus’s fears, a cluster of angry-looking faeries emerged from the hall. They were looking around the movie theater. Searching for him. 

“Fort,” Cyrus hissed. “They’re here!”

Fort’s eyes widened. He’d spotted them, too. “Get down!”

They slid out of their seats, earning a few weird looks as they crouched on the popcorn-covered ground, ducking low enough for the chairs in front of them to cover their heads. For a moment, all Cyrus heard was the noises coming from the movie— a combination of upbeat music as a British narrator talked about a bear named Paddington who Cyrus had never heard of. Was there a bear really named that? It sounded pretty made up to him. But then again, wasn’t that the point of movies? 

Conveniently for Fort, he wore a hoodie, which he was able to pull up over his head, blocking most of his face. Cyrus couldn’t fully tell if his hair was covered, and if it wasn’t, he’d be easy to spot. One of the problems of having white hair was that next to no one his age had the same hair color, (unless they practiced Time magic), which it seemed no one here did. Even in dark rooms, sometimes, the color seemed to glow. That definitely wouldn’t help him here. Just in case, Cyrus leaned down even more, not rising back up until Fort nudged him.

“Look!” he whispered. “They’re leaving.”

Cyrus peeked back over the seat. Sure enough, the faeries must’ve given up on their search, because they were walked back towards the exit, probably convinced that the boys were somewhere else. As soon as they were out of sight, Cyrus let out a breath of relief, and heard Fort do the same. Somehow, they’d been extremely lucky. If the cinema hadn’t been as filled as it was, Cyrus had a feeling the faeries would’ve caught them for sure. 

One glance at each other, and he and Fort burst into breathless laughter, holding their knees. This time, almost everyone within earshot turned to glare. A few seats down, a disgruntled-looking man shushed them. They covered their mouths with their hands, still laughing, and Cyrus thought briefly that there was no one else in the world who could make him laugh like this. If you’d told twelve-year-old Cyrus that one day he’d be hiding in the cinema, laughing for real with Fort Fitzgerald (aka, a human) he would’ve said you were imagining things.

But if this was imagining, Cyrus liked this a lot better. 

“Whew!” he whispered, when he finally regained his ability to speak. “That was close!”

They’d plopped back into their chairs, and for the first time, he took in the movie that was being played on the screen. Sure enough, a small bear dressed in a dark blue coat was at the center, a bright red hat on his head. A group of kids surrounded him, walking with him in what looked to be a carnival. The colors were so vivid, and Cyrus couldn’t help but marvel how cool it all was. There’d been nothing like this at the Oppenheimer or Carmarthen schools, and even while traveling the world, it’d been rare that Cyrus stopped to see movies. Certainly never with this big of a screen. 

“Why were they after you?” Fort asked in bewilderment, tearing Cyrus from his thoughts— and from the screen. 

Cyrus took a moment to stare at him. It’d been maybe six months since they’d last seen each other. Looking closely at him now, Fort seemed so grown up— so filled with a confidence that used to not be there in their days at the Oppenheimer school. He remembered Fort and his friends having opened a school, a new school of magic, where they taught kids and adults alike the very same magic that the Twylth Teg used. Wanting to find himself, Cyrus had been busy traveling the world on his own, not really bothering to stop at the school. He kind of doubted he was welcome there. 

Cyrus sighed, leaning his head against the back of the chair. “Faerie Queen. She, uh, didn’t like the idea of me visiting anywhere too close to her children, so she wanted to put me in her prison.” He waved his hand absently. “Or kill me.” 

He tried feeling more annoyed at the Faerie Queen, but he honestly couldn’t. Not with Fort here. The whole situation felt more ridiculous than annoying— why couldn’t she just leave him alone and let him visit the UK school in peace? It might be a lot longer before the queen stopped holding her grudges, and Cyrus really doubted she’d ever stop. Knowing her, she could be angry for centuries. The best thing to do was just avoid her; Cyrus didn’t want to keep running into reminders of his past and future mistakes as an Old One, anyway. 

“She really likes threatening to do that, huh?” Fort commented. 

“Oh, yep, you have no idea.” 

“I do, actually. This is the second time I’ve had to rescue you from the faeries. Please don’t make it a third time?” 

“I promise I’ll try,” Cyrus said brightly. “. . . But it’s not my fault the Faerie Queen hates me.” 

“Uh . . . it literally is.” 

“Excuse me,” a woman interjected from a couple seats down, her face like thunder. “Could you keep it down?”

Fort turned red. “Sorry.”

“Yeah, we will,” Cyrus whispered, despite wishing they could just continue their conversation. Now that he was here, though, he kind of wanted to watch a bit more of the movie. He glanced at Fort. “Can we stay for ten more minutes? I want to see what happens to the bear.”

Fort’s eyebrows shot up, but he nodded, and magicked up a small bag of popcorn for them to share. The movie was already halfway done, and needless to say, they ended up staying for a lot longer than ten minutes. Mostly because Cyrus couldn’t stop staring in awe at the screen, barely looking as he reached for popcorn, almost knocking the bag over once or twice. Sometimes he forgot he’d never really done things like this, being so focused on his game with Merlin, and fighting the six other Artorigios, and of course, trying to bring his family back indirectly through the unknowing help of his friends. 

It wasn’t hard to immerse himself in the movie. It was cheesy and silly, and for that reason Cyrus loved it. Some parts were clearly supposed to be scary, but any attempts at horror were comedic to him— nothing could compare to the real monsters he’d faced: his family. Before he knew it, the credits were rolling down the screen, and lights flicked on, flooding the darkness of the room. Waiting for the people in their row to move was taking a lot longer than expected, so Fort — being more impatient than Cyrus — suggested they just teleport out of the theatre. 

Cyrus was happy with that; the woman who’d yelled at them had kept giving him dirty looks, and he’d been a bit tempted to throw a popcorn kernel at her. But she might not appreciate that, Cyrus reminded himself. He was really getting the hang of being more respectful of humans (without lying as he did it!), and certain ones just didn’t enjoy getting food thrown at them. Or being manipulated, but that was a different story. 

Fort opened a teleportation circle, just big enough for both of them to fit, since there wasn’t much room in the row to begin with. They stepped through, landing back in the lobby of the movie theater, where people were still trailing out of the auditorium they’d just been in. Fort quickly closed the teleportation circle behind them, and Cyrus tossed their empty bag of popcorn into an already-overflowing trashcan. They headed back towards the door, making sure the faeries were completely gone before walking outside.

Outside, where it was way brighter than the darkness of the theater. 

“So, what did you think?” Fort asked.

“Of what?”

Fort just gave him what was probably supposed to be a disbelieving look, but it didn’t have the same effect, since his eyes were half-closed. “The movie!” 

“Oh, I liked it! I was confused how they got the bear to talk, though.” 

“Uh, you know that wasn’t a real bear, right? They used computers to make it look like it was taking.” He shrugged. “It’s animation.”

“An-im-at-ion,” Cyrus sounded out the word, not completely sure if he’d heard it before. “And I know it wasn’t a real bear. Real bears don’t wear clothes! Or walk upright like that.” 

“That’s your only reason for knowing it was fake? Not because it was talking?” 

Cyrus squinted at Fort. “Hey, did you get shorter since I last saw you?” 

“I could still let those faeries capture you,” Fort shot back, but the anger his voice might’ve held almost four years ago— before everything that’d gone down in the last battle— was gone, replaced by a more teasing tone that Cyrus was used to. 

Cyrus cringed. “Please don’t.” 

“Yeah, I wouldn’t.” And then he added, “Sadly.” 

Breaking out into a grin, Cyrus shoved him. Fort laughed.

They sat down on a nearby bench in front of the cinema, and for a moment, he took in the view, staring at the tightly-packed shops and houses. The roads were almost empty, aside from a few cars parked to the side of the streets, so close to the sidewalk that the wheels nearly brushed against it. Beside him, Fort was shoving the ends of his sleeves over his hands, rubbing his palms together. Cyrus didn’t blame him. Despite how long they’d been running, the air still felt cold. 

“Thanks for coming,” Cyrus muttered, after a beat had passed. 

“No problem,” Fort replied, looking at him with a smile, which Cyrus returned. “What kind of person would I be if I hadn’t?”

“A smart one?”

His friend sighed deeply. “You really need to stop going near the faeries. Seriously, Cyrus.”

The silver-haired boy shrugged, his smile never fading. “I already apologized to the Faerie Queen, but she seems to want to put me in her prison forever.” 

Fort snorted. “Oh, yeah, that’s so annoying. I wonder why she wants to do that? Maybe ‘cause you cursed all the faeries to stay as kids forever?”

Cyrus groaned. “My older self did that. Not me, technically. Blame him.”

“You are him.”

Anyone else mentioning Merlin might’ve made Cyrus feel more annoyance, but for some reason when Fort did it, he didn’t feel any. “Yes, he’s me, but we both exist in the same timeline, so are we really the same? Am I really Merlin and is he really me? Did I really do that to her children, when I technically haven’t done it yet in my timeline?” 

“. . . No,” Fort said. “Just no, to all of that.” 

Cyrus tried not to laugh. “Hey, how did you find me, anyway? It’s like you have a tracker on me or something!”

“If I had a tracker, don’t you think I’d be using it on Ember? Half the time, she’s always running off trying to eat people, and it doesn’t help that she can fly, so it takes me hours to try finding her.”  

“Could’ve taken me seconds.” 

And it was true, if he’d still been using Time magic. Even a few years later, it was still a little weird to function without it. The only other time he’d been without them had been when he’d been first held captive by the fairy queen, only getting his powers back once Fort had given them to him. And then, mere hours later, he’d lost them again anyway. Now, it was more of a . . . preference, not to use it.

“No way.” Fort shook his head. “Me and Ember have a special bond.”

“Didn’t she try to kill you once?”

“Yeah, but that was under Spirit magic.” Fort chuckled. He seemed to do a lot more of that, now that they weren’t facing down Old Ones or dragons or other random threats. “And if we’re being honest, I think all our friends have tried to kill me at some point.”

Cyrus felt a lump in his throat. He knew Fort was joking; it wasn’t like he’d tried to kill Fort, or even hurt him. He’d always wanted to protect him, but he still felt guilty that maybe it’d seemed like he’d wanted to hurt Fort, back in that deserted land when he’d revealed to his friends that he was the Timeless One. Cyrus had already apologized before, once, about everything. Just like that, Fort had already forgiven him. But was it really forgiven? How could you forget something like that, being betrayed by your best friend, and just . . . move on? 

Because you changed, said a voice in Cyrus’s head. More than anything, he hoped Fort believed that, too. 

“And how did you find me?” Cyrus quickly asked again. “You never answered that part.” 

“Xenea sent me.”

“Xenea?” He furrowed his brow, trying to think of who Fort was referring to. “Oh! The faerie girl who lived with you when she was looking for Ember!”

“Or Damian,” Fort added. “And I wasn’t gonna let her take Ember.” 

“Of course.” Cyrus nodded. “She’s your family— I wouldn’t let anyone take my—“ He cut himself off, realizing what he’d automatically been about to say. Family. “Well, never-mind.” He shrugged. “If I had a family worth defending, I wouldn’t let her take mine. But we’re definitely past that.” 

The other boy hesitated. “How . . . how are they doing?” 

“No idea! All I know is the Faerie Queen has them. Thank you, by the way, for suggesting she should punish them.” He smiled. “Still don’t really know why I got off the hook so easily.” 

“Uh, because you’re not like them?” Fort sounded surprised. “For one, you never wanted to wipe out humanity— even before you knew your family lied to you. And you’re definetely way better of a person than you used to be.” 

“Thanks.” Cyrus looked down, warmth flooding his cheeks. “Um, so— so Xenea sent you? Why would she send you? I thought all the Twylth Teg hated me.” 

“Helio doesn’t hate you. As soon as he saw you turned against your family— and that we were getting along better, he actually says nice things about you.”

“Really?” Cyrus didn’t know why, but that knowledge made him feel better. It really shouldn’t. He’d found Helio kind of annoying, just as Fort had. But looking back on it, his presence had actually been helpful. At the time, it’d been sort of good to have a third person between him and Fort, with all the fighting they’d been doing. Cyrus was really glad they didn’t have conflict like that between them anymore.  

“Yeah. And Xenea said she saw them trying to capture you, so she teleported back to me and told me what they were doing. I was in the middle of teaching a class, too! I had to tell them I had an emergency!”

“You left class for me?” Cyrus asked, astonished. “Whoa, Fort, you shouldn’t have. I’d have been fine! I’m the Timeless One, remember? Or have you forgotten, while you’re off running a school?” 

A blush flared across Fort’s cheeks. “I’m not running the school. Me, Jia, and Rachel are all helping out. Sierra and the others, too.” A new look of interest filled his face. “Speaking of the school . . . that’s also kind of why I’m here. Not just to rescue you from the faeries, but I’ve been wanting to talk to you. Our school’s a work in progress— I mean, we only just started it like what, two years ago? Anyway, I kind of thought—“

“You want me to come back with you to the school?”

Fort blinked in surprise. “How did . . . did you read my mind?” 

Cyrus wanted to laugh. “No. I read ahead, that’s all. The magic of guessing!” 

Fort, though, just looked nervous. “Oh. Well, then, yeah. I was going to ask that.” He hesitated. “We’ve all been teaching, and I was thinking you might want to teach, too.”

“Teach?” Cyrus’s eyes widened. “Fort, I . . . I appreciate you for thinking of me, but I can’t be a teacher. I’m . . . too young for that.” 

A lame excuse, he knew. Everyone else at the Utopia school was his age and they were teaching. It had just been the first thing to come in his head— the first and easiest excuse he could think of. And obviously, Fort saw right through it. 

“So? I just turned fifteen last month— in September. And you were fighting Artorigios and Merlin when you were even younger than that.”

He ran a hand across his curly hair, frustrated without really knowing why. “But I grew up that way. Teaching is—  it’s different, Fort. I’ve never done it. I don’t know the first thing about teaching.”

“You think I do? I’m just doing it because people need to know how to do magic. You could teach Time magic. You’re kind of an expert at it, so . . . the offers open.”

Cyrus shifted uncomfortably. Him, teaching Time magic? He hadn’t even tried doing Time magic since the battle in D.C. There was no denying that out of anyone, he probably knew the most about doing it. And he liked the idea of more people being able to see into the future, and time travel— as long as they learned how to be responsible with it. Time was a delicate thing. Huh. Maybe it was worth teaching, just to make sure people understood how to use it properly. And so they didn’t go crazy. 

But would he really be welcomed back as a teacher? He wasn’t even sure if he trusted himself to start doing Time magic again. Or maybe it was the other way around. Maybe he wasn’t sure if everyone else trusted him to do Time magic again, let alone teach it. Letting a former Old One into their school? It couldn’t be something anyone would be ecstatic about. If Cyrus was in Fort’s shoes, he definitely wouldn’t be offering himself the job. 

Cyrus forced a smile. “Thanks, Fort, but I’m good. Good luck with your school, okay? I’m going to continue my soul-searching road trip, but it was nice seeing you.” He stood up, meaning to walk away, but Fort reached for his arm and forced him to stop.

“Cyrus,” Fort said, almost scoldingly. “You have to come.”

“Why?” Cyrus crossed his arms, letting his arm fall from Fort’s grasp. “I’m not sure anyone wants me there.”

“I do. And so do Rachel and Jia.”

That confused him. “But they don’t trust me, do they?” 

Fort looked down. “Maybe not fully, but they know how much you’ve changed. I really think you’d like it at the school, Cyrus. It’s nothing like Oppenheimer— it’s actually fun. I think this would be good for you— teaching and . . . everything else. Just come, okay? You don’t have to stay if you don’t like it.” 

Cyrus wanted to say no. He wanted to demand why he wanted him there so badly, because it seemed too surreal. But Fort was looking at him in a way that no one else had, like he believed in Cyrus, like he had faith in him. It was the same look Cyrus found himself constantly giving Fort. Here was his only friend in the world, giving Cyrus a chance to be something better. And suddenly, that meant a lot more than his worries over teaching, or doing Time magic again. He could do this. He should do this. And if he backed out, Cyrus had a feeling that Fort would force him to come anyway. 

“Okay,” he agreed, in a tone that displayed more confidence than he felt. “I’ll think about it.”

The other boy brightened. “Yeah?”

Cyrus smiled. “Promise.” 

The look on Fort's face seemed like enough proof to Cyrus that he’d given the right response, even if he wasn’t entirely sure if he was teaching material. Fort gave Cyrus some information about the Utopia School for Magic after that, like how to get there and the date Cyrus should arrive. He didn’t have a phone or anything to tell him the date, so without the use of Time magic, Cyrus would have to go to the nearest town and find some daily newspapers. 

From the sound of it, Cyrus was supposed to arrive on October 10th. Today’s date was October 2nd. He’d had no idea it was October, and felt a little embarrassed for not knowing that. Back when he was the Timeless One, he never would’ve been unaware of the exact date. Although the weather had been getting slightly colder lately, it was always chilly in the UK. Cyrus might’ve gone twenty more days thinking it was still September. A part of him liked it— losing track of time. It felt like he was rebelling against his old self, and that felt good. 

But if Fort said he had to be there by October 10th, Cyrus wouldn’t miss it for the world. And maybe he would change his mind about wanting to relearn magic and teaching, because that didn’t quite feel like the reason he’d agreed to go. He was more just excited to see the new school— a little nervous about everything else, maybe, but he’d always wanted to check it out. 

He still couldn’t fully imagine Fort as a teacher, even though he’d heard lots of stories every time his friend had visited. He was teaching something about dragons, which Cyrus thought really suited him. Still, he’d have to see that for himself. He was so used to having adults for teachers that he could hardly imagine his old friends up there, teaching in front of the adults. He briefly hoped that no one like Colonel Charles was attending the Utopia school— or worse, his own family. 

Maybe that was another reason to go back to the school. If Ketas, Q’baos, D’vale, D’hea, and Ni’nev ever showed up, trying to sneak in and learn magic and break the world again, Cyrus would rather be there to stop them. Not that he wanted to confront them, exactly. He’d avoided them since the last battle (they were currently being punished by the Faerie Queen for the next few millennia), but even that didn’t stop Cyrus from hearing their voices in his head sometimes, messing with his thoughts like they always did. But if he absolutely had to confront them, it was better than letting them even go near magic again. 

For a fleeting moment, Cyrus wondered if that was what people back at the new school thought of him. The ones he’d manipulated, the ones who knew Cyrus’s true identity. That because Cyrus used to be an Old One, they wouldn’t trust him to go near magic again. Even if Cyrus had turned against his family for everyone to see, had nearly died in the process, it might be possible that no one would trust him. That no one would like him. That he’d come there with high hopes, and they’d crush it instantly, forcing him to leave because they didn’t want him there. 

No. That wouldn’t happen. Everyone had seen him stand up to his family, uniting with his friends to fight against the other Old Ones. At least that had to mean something. And if nothing else, there was at least one person who wanted him to come: Fort. He craved it— Fort’s friendship. Maybe that was the only reason he agreed to go because . . . because it meant spending more time with him, and Cyrus had been alone practically his whole life— even now, when he didn’t need to be. 

He had to make a choice, even if that choice wouldn’t in any means be easy. Maybe the school wouldn’t be too bad, he acknowledged, and reassured himself with that thought. Over and over. And as the days stretched out, morphing into fall, it was all Cyrus seemed to think about. Eventually, just needing a distraction— needing something else to think about— Cyrus did something he almost never did: he acted on impulse. In other words, he decided to leave the country. Immerse himself in a different setting entirely. 

After all, he had the time. What could go wrong? 

Just as he expected, waiting for the ferry was as excruciatingly long as ever. Cyrus found himself wishing he just made a teleportation circle instead of waiting for the ferry. But there was something nice about not using magic to get places, Cyrus found. He’d been able to create money using magic, so affording to buy tickets wasn’t a problem. Mainly, he just wanted to be out on the ocean, experiencing a very slow, human form of transportation. Assuming he had the patience. 

Which luckily, after a lifetime of being the Timeless One, Cyrus kind of did. A lot more than he used to, anyway. He sat on a bench in front of the port, watching the waves roll by and flipping through a mystery comic book that’d been stashed in his backpack— a Sherlock Holmes. It seemed that mystery novels were the only thing Cyrus owned nowadays. Everywhere he went, he sought them out, always making sure to stop at a bookstore if there was one. They reminded him of the mystery novels he used to read at the last Oppenheimer school, usually late at night, pouring over them in the boys’ dormitory. 

He still had the mystery novels from that time— it’d been Fort who’d found them, given them to Cyrus, but they’d been lost when Cyrus had left for the UK school. At some point he’d just gone back, once things had died down more, and it was clear that no one was returning to the underground school. Breaking in had been surprisingly easy— he’d just had to fill out the combination at the front door, which he still had implanted by memory. None of his other friends knew where the outside entrance was, but years of sneaking around had worked out for getting back inside. 

The school had felt like a ghost town. A lot of the magical objects had been taken— anything to assist the new school that’d opened up recently for the public. And on top of that, there was no one at all. No soldiers, no Colonel Charles, and no students. Cyrus kept expecting someone would appear, like a military officer, and then he’d be forced to leave. But no one came. Just like always, he was alone, and he’d half-expected that visiting the school would make him feel less that way. He suddenly felt a little angry for thinking that. 

Cyrus had drifted through the hallways like a ghost, his eyes taking in everything, somehow assured by the fact that the walls were still that gross puke green color. If he listened carefully, he could practically hear his friends' voices, could almost see them sitting together in the cafeteria, or walking together to classes, or making jokes that Cyrus had pretended not to understand, but laughed at anyway. Now, he realized, he really had enjoyed himself with his friends. He’d hidden things, yes, but none of the happiness Cyrus had felt had ever been fake. 

Maybe even before he’d found out what his family had done, his beliefs about humans had already changed. Although he’d never admitted it to anyone, he felt a wave of guilt hit him each time he remembered how he’d tricked his friends. How he’d never been able to tell them everything. If put in the same position, would any of his family members feel guilt? Would any of them be missing his friends as much as Cyrus was missing them?

Weak, he heard their voices ring through his head. You’ve always been the weakest of us, Emrys. Feeling the way you do for humans . . . for that boy . . . you think you’re better than us? Stronger than us? You think you’ll ever be rid of us? 

Get out of my head, Cyrus thought indignantly. I’m not like you! 

Or maybe the correct answer was: I don’t want to be like you. 

Finally, he’d arrived at the very room he’d come here for: the boys’ dormitory. The only noise Cyrus could hear were his faint footsteps as he crossed the room, heading to the back where his and Fort’s shared bunk bed had been. At the sight of it, he felt almost taken aback by the sudden emotions that bubbled to the surface, as warm, forgotten memories filled his mind. Before he could get too nostalgic, he quickly found the mystery novels in the same place he’d hidden them (under his pillow), and moved to leave. 

But something compelled Cyrus to stay, if just for a few more minutes. So he did. He lowered himself onto his old bed, listening for the familiar creak of the mattress. If he laid there and closed his eyes, he could imagine it was the middle of the night, and he was surrounded by dozens of other sleeping boys. But Fort would be awake, or if he wasn’t, he would be soon. Usually from a nightmare. And Cyrus would always know, even if Fort tried his best to hide it. 

Sometimes, when he was sure Fort didn’t want to be confronted, he just sat there, staring up at Fort’s bed in the darkness. He didn’t fall asleep until he was sure he could hear his friend’s slowed breathing from above. Other times, Cyrus crawled out of his own bed to check on Fort, talking with him until he felt calm enough to sleep. Then, he used to bring a book with him, and they’d read together under the light of a flashlight. Sometimes Fort fell asleep before they could finish reading, and Cyrus carefully tucked the blankets tighter around him before slipping back to his own bed. 

He knew he wasn’t supposed to care so much about another human, knew that Fort shouldn’t matter, that he only mattered for one reason: his plan to get back his family. He was angry at humans, he reminded himself. Angry. But looking at Fort, he didn’t feel the way he should. By then, the reasons had started to blur together, and sometimes Cyrus forgot that he wasn’t supposed to do things like dry Fort’s tears and give him reassuring smiles. It was all for show, he convinced himself. He was lying through his teeth. 

And now, Cyrus knew, he’d been lying to even himself. 

Of course he’d cared. He’d cared so much that it scared him, which was why he’d tried to keep Fort out of all conflict, if that was necessary. But Fort was, well, Fort, and constantly snuck off to do stupid things like find his father and almost get himself killed, which Cyrus could never have predicted. While earlier, Cyrus had been mortified that Fort would even go to the Dracsi dimension to get his father back, he was glad for his friend’s choice now. If he hadn’t, he might never have his father back today. 

Cyrus had met the man only once, and had almost expected Mr. Fitzgerald to yell at him for hurting his son. But seeing as he and Fort were becoming close again, he’d only given Cyrus a grin and offered to take them out to pizza for lunch— his treat. Cyrus hadn’t stayed for longer than a few hours, but once the initial ice had broken, he’d come back finding that his laughter had very much been not fake. He liked it, the realness. He’d liked Fort’s dad a lot, too; his jokes always made Fort cringe, but Cyrus laughed at every single one of them. It was easier to laugh after breaking his ties with his family. 

Also, he was kind of relieved that Fort’s dad didn’t make a big deal out of Cyrus once being an Old One. Instead, he’d even asked if Cyrus wanted to stay overnight, which he didn’t. The only room he could’ve stayed in was Fort’s, and Cyrus had still felt weird about sleeping in the same room as his friend, not wanting to overstep his boundaries. But even as he left, the offer lingered in his head. He couldn’t remember anyone from his own family ever offering to take Cyrus for pizza and make him laugh as hard as an afternoon with the Fitzgeralds had. 

Looking back at it now, Cyrus almost wished he’d spent the weekend there. Even more than a day at least, because Ember had finally stopped trying to pounce on him at every chance she got, and he actually thought she was pretty cool. Just as cool as Mr. Fitzgerald, if he was being honest.

He’d turned thirteen, sometime that year, and Fort had been insistent on figuring out when Cyrus's birthday was. Cyrus had only mentioned once that he had no idea when his real one was. His birthday was on a different calendar now, compared to when he'd been born in the far future. He never really bothered figuring out exactly what day it was, given how messed up his timeline became. So not celebrating his birthday at all? That was safer. That was a human thing— to celebrate birthdays. Not an Old One thing. 

Fort didn’t care. One day, he’d gotten a magically-transported letter, asking him to come to Fort’s house for the day. Even without knowing what exact day Cyrus's birthday was, Fort had still done it. Long after they’d eaten pizza and gone out alone to wander the streets of Fort's town, Cyrus pretended not to notice as Fort inconspicuously bought him a cupcake from a local bakery, making a joke about thirteen-year-olds that was so obvious it made Cyrus want to laugh forever. They’d eaten more than they probably should, accidentally getting frosting on the tips of their noses. And Cyrus felt truly happier than he ever had in his life. 

He must’ve fallen asleep, because the loud honking of a boat jolted him awake. When Cyrus opened his eyes, he felt groggy and disoriented. Sherlock Holmes lay open on his lap; it must’ve fallen at some point when Cyrus fell asleep. Having no idea what time it was, Cyrus scrambled off the bench, yawning as he picked up the comic and threw it in his threadbare backpack. In front of him, the ferry had just pulled onto the dock, and a man in a uniform had gotten off, starting to wave the line of people through.

Cyrus quickly made his way towards a nearby bike rack, where he’d abandoned a bike he’d bought from a local store in Ombersley— from the village he’d recently stayed in. After traveling some of the U.S. first, he’d gone back to the U.K., wanting some familiarity. He mostly stuck to England towns when it came to traveling, though a few weeks ago he’d just gotten back from exploring parts of Ireland, really loving all the green hills and cliffs and culture. He’d sketched a lot of the scenery there, on a worn-out drawing pad he’d bought somewhere back in the States. 

It helped to pass the time— ironic, because Cyrus wasn’t used to just living through time the normal way. It made him feel very free, and young, and human. And also, very alone, but Cyrus wouldn’t ever admit that. He’d once been content to just sit by himself in the Faerie Queen’s prison for thousands of years, and just wandering around traveling made him feel lonely? He told himself he didn’t know the reason, but then his friends' faces would appear in his head, and he’d know why. Still, he really liked traveling. He never stayed in one place for too long, and there was something freeing about that. Like the more places he went, the more he was finding himself. 

Picking up his bike, Cyrus hurried to join the line, making it just in time to board the ferry. Luckily, no one was against him bringing his bike on board— though one of the crew members had asked him to stash it with all the other bags on one side of the ship. He was glad for that; if he didn’t feel like teleporting, it was his only source of transportation, aside from the occasional train ride when it came to longer distances.

Sometimes, if he was out on the road, he was able to carpool if any cars happened to see Cyrus and stop, asking if he needed a ride. He never accepted if there was only one person in the car, remembering a warning that Fort’s father had given him (“If it’s one person in the car, usually a man— and I’m not saying woman can’t do this, too— you’re more likely to be kidnapped. And we can’t let you be kidnapped, you’re too special! Both to me and to Fort!).

Cyrus had disagreed that if he could handle his villainous family, he could handle getting in a car with one stranger. Apparently if he owned a phone, he could’ve used a more reliable thing called Uber . . . whatever that meant. But Mr. Fitzgerald’s advice stuck like glue in his head, and Cyrus trusted him more than he’d trusted any adult before, which was saying something. So he stuck to the two-person rule, minimum, and made sure they were friendly before getting in a car with them. 

Most times when he was going short distances, though, Cyrus biked. The bike had served him well since he’d first gotten it, but he’d recently hit a growth spurt— a sign that maybe soon, he’d need a new one. If not a bike, he took the train, and luckily, the National Rail was practically everywhere in England. Even the smallest towns had train stations, which was a good thing, because without them Cyrus would never get anywhere fast. Unless he just teleported, which he tried to keep limited to long distances only, unless he was especially impatient that day. 

After a boat ride that lasted long enough to make Cyrus wish he’d used Time magic, he found himself in a bustling French town, filled with people with strong accents and friendly smiles. The air smelled like flowers and freshly-baked bread. Rolling his bike at his side, he was halfway down the street when he caught sight of a newspaper on the ground. A newspaper with the date October 9th on it. Cyrus’s eyes widened. No way. There was no way it was October 9th, right? A day away from when he was supposed to fly to the U.S?

“Excuse me!” Cyrus said, quickly approaching the nearest person he saw— a woman in her thirties. She was sitting on a bench a few feet away, eating a sandwich. “Um, is that newspaper true?” He pointed at the newspaper on the ground. “Is it actually October 9th?”

He’d asked the magic to change the language of his words, translating them to French. It was a whole lot easier than needing to learn and cast spells first— although Cyrus had never needed to relearn his Time spells before casting them. It was easiest to use a translator spell for now; he was trying more and more not to insult people, even accidentally. A big part of that was speaking in a language that people would understand. 

The woman just stared at him. “Sorry, what? I don’t understand much French.” 

Oh! She spoke English. And from the sound of it, she was American. His cheeks growing a little hotter, Cyrus repeated his question, this time without the translator spell. Now, she seemed to have no trouble following what he was saying. She looked surprised, but not for the reason he’d been hoping.

“Well, yeah. It’s October 9th. See?” She reached into her pocket, holding up her phone screen. He peered at it in horror. Sure enough, it said October 9th. Cyrus felt like the world had gone up in flames. He wanted to scream or tear his hair out. Maybe both.

A million thoughts raced through his head. There was no way he could get plane tickets that soon— he didn’t even know where the nearest airport was; in his efforts to do more things the human way (well, the no-magic way) he’d been planning on going to the one in Oxford or London. And before that, he had to buy the tickets ahead of time, obviously. Not having a phone, he would’ve needed to go somewhere in person. 

Cyrus’s eyes grew wider. Oh no. He wasn’t going to make it there tomorrow. Fort was going to think Cyrus wasn’t coming. He was going to think Cyrus had abandoned him, that he didn’t want to come when he really did. 

The woman’s expression suddenly turned to concern. “Are you okay, honey?”

It was then that Cyrus realized his eyes had filled with hot tears, and one had just slipped down his cheek. If anything, that made him feel worse. He heard his family’s voices in his head again, more taunting than ever. Look at you, crying because you won’t see your little human friend. Because you think you’re letting him down, when humans have always let us down. You’ve gone too soft! Crying is childish, crying is weak. But then again, you’ve always been the weakest of us, Emrys. Weak. Weak. Weak . . . 

Merlin wouldn’t call me weak, Cyrus thought lamely, angrily, a poor attempt to get them out of his head. His family wasn’t even here, and they were haunting him. It was like every time he showed signs of weakness— anything his family would be against— he’d hear their comments of disgust as clearly as if they were standing right next to him. And it wasn’t fair, because Cyrus didn’t even care about their opinions. He shouldn’t. He wasn’t weak . . . right? 

Embarrassed at crying in front of a stranger, Cyrus quickly reached up, wiping the tears away. “Sorry!” And then, more firmly, he added, “Please pretend you didn’t see that.”

“It’s alright,” the woman said gently, her voice somehow soothing him a little. “Crying is natural.”

“No,” he stammered. “I — I shouldn’t be. I didn’t know what today was. I have to be there. I have to get to him.” 

“Get to who?”

He shook his head, rubbing his eyes again. He used only one hand, since the other was still holding his bike up. “It doesn’t matter. Just was going to see my friend, Fort.” 

“Wait . . . Fort? That name sounds familiar. By any chance do you mean Forsythe Fitzgerald?”  

It was Cyrus’s turn to stare at her in surprise. “You know him?”

“Of course! Haven’t you seen the News?”

Cyrus shrugged. He really hadn’t. Not since watching the broadcasted opening day of the Utopia School for Magic, which he’d only watched to support his friends. 

She looked bewildered. “No wonder, if you didn’t know today’s date. I actually attended the new school. You know, the one for magic that everyone’s been going on about? I went to it for a few months, learned how to do some things to make my life easier. Honestly, saves me so much money when I can just teleport places.” She grinned. “Just teleported to France this morning for a croissant.”  

Cyrus felt a new emotion rising up inside him— excitement. “So it’s true? Adults are practicing magic at the school?”

The woman laughed. “Have you been living under a rock?”

“No!” 

Cyrus’s automatic response was to act defensive, because he wasn’t oblivious, he knew all about the new school and that people of all ages were learning magic. What was this lady doing, talking to him like that? Acting like she was better than him? It took a second for Cyrus to follow his train of thought, and immediately felt horrified. And ashamed. How could he think that? He wasn’t any better than humans— it was the old Cyrus that would’ve thought something like that. 

What was wrong with him? Hadn’t he changed? 

Okay, yeah, he’d changed. It was his old habits that hadn’t, and Cyrus was desperately trying not to fall back on them. Sometimes, it was like there was an indescribable rage inside him— subdued over the years, but still there. He feared that the tiniest bit was still directed at humans, and maybe he’d never be able to reach the level of unconditional kindness that Merlin had achieved. That man seemed to brim with love for humans. Cyrus didn’t even know what it was like to feel love. 

He backtracked to the thing the woman had asked him. He’d just never seen any adults do magic before— aside from his family, of course, but they’d been more immortal beings. And that had been before magic had been destroyed, and then restored, to the rest of the world. Hearing the woman’s laugh reminded him to relax a little— she meant well, she wasn’t insulting him. He took a deep breath, reminding himself to calm down.

“I mean, no, I just haven’t seen the school yet— I've only heard stories of adults learning magic there." Figuring he should explain himself a little more, he added, "I’ve mostly just been focused on traveling around the world the past several years now. So, the idea of the adults going to a school for magic is still a little shocking to me, honestly.” 

“Oh, I see.” She smiled gently. “So you’re friends with Forsythe? Does this mean you teach magic at that school, too?”

Cyrus nodded, then shook his head. “I’m supposed to start teaching there, but I don’t know if I’ll actually do it.”  

“So you were born on Discovery Day?”

He gave her a smile and a shrug. “Something like that.” 

“Wow, so you could do magic before the adults could, then! What speciality did you have?” 

He tilted his head. “Speciality?”

“Oh, sorry. I meant, what type of magic did you have? I heard the children born on and after Discovery Day could only do one type of magic.” 

“Sometimes more than one,” Cyrus said, thinking of Fort, and wondered why the thought of his friend made him want to smile. “And I was a Time student.”

He wondered how she’d react if she knew he hadn’t just been a Time student— he’d been the Timeless One. Unless adults didn’t know who the Old Ones were, or maybe they didn’t care, because they hadn’t all needed to face them directly like the Oppenheimer students had. He wouldn’t really want to tell a stranger he used to be an Old One, anyway. Then, she might just run away screaming, and Cyrus had been craving being able to have a nice, genuine conversation with someone. Even if him making a big mistake had been the cause of it. 

“Time,” the woman mused. “There’s only one girl teaching Time at the moment. Her name’s Ellora. So I guess you’ll be teaching Time?” He must’ve looked shocked, because she added, “Well, all the other teachers are teaching what they were experts in, back when only you kids could do magic. Like Jia and Rachel, for example— they’re two of the teachers, really great girls— they teach the magic they’re most familiar with. Healing and Destruction.” 

“I don’t know for sure if I’ll be teaching Time magic,” Cyrus said, not fully sure if he was lying. He let out a small laugh. “I guess I’ll have to see if I’m even teaching material first!”

The woman smiled. “I’m sure you are. And if you really need to get to your friend tomorrow, I’d recommend teleporting, if you know how to do it.”

He wanted to smack himself. Of course! Why had he gotten so upset when he could just teleport to the U.S? There was no point in getting plane tickets— sometimes, magic was the only choice. He thanked the woman for her advice and left her there on the bench, continuing on his way down the busy street. With the knowledge that he could just teleport, he felt like a weight had lifted from his shoulders. He would make it. He wasn’t letting Fort down. 

And tomorrow, he’d figure out everything. 

“Someone's calling for me / Something's calling for me again.”

Chapter Text

Medicine (by Dayglow)

“I'm on the outside looking in / I never said what I really meant / I wasn't made to be medicine for you."

Cyrus didn’t realize until now that for teleporting to work, you’d actually need to have seen the location first. And while Cyrus had heard stories of the school and had a vague idea of where it was, he had no idea what it actually looked like. The only part of it he remembered seeing was the stage where Rachel had given a speech on the Utopia school’s opening day, which he’d only seen because it’d been broadcasted on every TV in the world.

So far, his chances of getting there today weren’t looking too good.

But it was still early in the day-- enough time, hopefully, to find a way to teleport there. The only thing he could think of to do was find a picture of the school somehow. And he had to do it fast, or else Cyrus might spend the whole day running around looking for a picture. Although Fort hadn’t told him a specific time to be there, he’d prefer not to get there super late. It’d make a bad first impression to arrive late on day one— and Cyrus already wasn’t amazing at first impressions. 

On the morning of October 10th, Cyrus rushed into a bakery, the smell of baked goods so strong that it made his stomach grumble. But now wasn’t the time for eating. Not until he got what he came here for. Inside, people were sitting around small round tables, digging into croissants and eggs and steaming cups of coffee. All he needed was to ask to borrow one of their phones, or if not, he’d ask if they could show him a picture of the Utopia school. After all, it wasn’t a secret, unlike the Oppenheimer school. So with its popularity, it had to be somewhere on the internet, right? He would be surprised if it wasn’t. 

Taking a deep breath, Cyrus slowly approached a man sitting alone at a table, who appeared to have just ordered a cup of coffee. Even from farther away, he could see steam rising from it. The man moved to drink it anyway, and Cyrus didn’t have to use his Time powers to see what would happen next. Immediately, the man winced like he’d been burned (which he had), and set the coffee down, staring at it in annoyance. It was then that he noticed Cyrus standing there, and jumped again. This time, from surprise.

“Uh, can I help you?” he asked sourly, and Cyrus was starting to regret his decision not to ask someone else. He’d only approached this man because he’d been the only one sitting alone, and Cyrus thought he’d be more likely to borrow his phone over anyone else’s. Maybe he’d been wrong. But he was already here, Cyrus reminded himself, so he might as well just ask. 

“Oh, um, actually yeah!” Cyrus told him, trying his best to present a friendly demeanor, in spite of the man’s attitude. “Would you mind looking up something for me on your phone?” 

It instantly backfired. The man looked at him suspiciously. “What, are you trying to hack into my phone? Is that it?” 

Why would I want to do that? Cyrus wondered. He understood being wary of strangers, making sure no one took advantage of you, but seriously? What use would he have hacking into a phone? Cyrus shook his head, his eyes widening. “No, no, I won’t touch your phone! I just need to see a picture of the Utopia School of Magic.” 

“Why?”

“Because I have to see what it looks like,” Cyrus said, not sure why he needed to explain himself to this guy. “So, can I?”

The man sighed heavily, like Cyrus had offended him somehow, but moved to pick up his phone anyway. When he flipped the screen towards Cyrus, he found himself staring at a dozen or so images of the school, most of them showing what seemed to be the front of the building, while other pictures showed it from inside. Compared to any of the schools Cyrus had been to, this looked like a palace. Even compared to the UK school, which at least was a lot prettier than the duller Oppenheimer one, the Utopia school outshone it in every way.

For one, the school was floating. It appeared to be several yards above the ground, high enough that it was immersed in the clouds. The outside was covered in shining, white stone, with archways and pillars that reminded him of the way buildings looked in Ancient Greece. Underneath it appeared to be some type of floating rock, with a few waterfalls running down the sides, but seemingly disappeared into nothingness. He even thought he saw a dragon or two somewhere in one of the pictures, but he couldn’t be sure. 

Cyrus couldn’t stop staring at it. That is, until the man thought he’d seen enough, and pulled his phone back. He retreated back outside, filled with awe. That was the school? Clearly, it’d been built with magic, if it was actually possible for it to be floating like that. He was sure Fort had never mentioned that detail, or all the other details of just how amazing the school looked. His family always thought that humans doing magic was chaotic, that them doing magic led only to destruction. 

And this proved them wrong in every way. 

Slipping into a nearby alley, Cyrus envisioned the Utopia school in his head and willed a portal to appear right in front of him. Suddenly he wasn’t staring at the red brick of the building in front of him, but the front of the school itself, just like he’d seen in the pictures. At the sight of it, of how real it was and what he was about to do, a strange feeling began to creep into his stomach, like a thousand buzzing bees had come to life in his ribcage. Dragging his bike along, Cyrus stepped through before he could back himself out of it. 

If possible, it was even better than the pictures. The school was larger than he’d expected it to be, with one main building and a few smaller ones off to the side, which all seemed to glisten in the sun. Huge, puffy white clouds floated around him, and glancing over the edge, Cyrus realized he couldn’t even see the bottom. And despite floating thousands of feet in the air, he felt no kind of altitude sickness. He watched in amazement as someone stepped off the edge, but instead of falling, one of the clouds carried them back to the ground below. 

It didn’t take long for Cyrus to feel out of place. On his way up the path to the entrance of the school, he passed people his age performing magic, which whizzed by him, sometimes forcing him to duck to avoid getting hit. Unlike Oppenheimer, almost everyone wore regular clothes— none of those green uniforms, which Cyrus hadn’t really minded. He shivered once he realized he recognized a few of them, like Gabriel and Michael, who didn’t even look Cyrus’s way. They were too busy laughing over something a few yards away, and Cyrus thought that Gabriel looked far less grumpy than he’d ever seen him. 

Of course, that just made Cyrus think of all the other familiar faces he’d be running into. Some of them, he actually felt a little excited to see. 

In the years after the battle against the Old Ones, Cyrus had been reluctant to seek out his former friends. Despite everything, despite how he might’ve convinced himself otherwise, Rachel and Jia meant a lot to him. The first time they’d seen each other, though, the air had felt so tense that Cyrus felt the urge to walk away, just so he wouldn’t have to deal with it. But something urged him to talk to Rachel and Jia. It hadn’t been easy, but he had. His opinions about humans and his family had flipped completely, and to his relief, the girls had gradually started to see that.  

Fort chose that moment to come leaping down the stairs two at a time in a way that was so distinctly Fort, that a smile lifted on Cyrus’s face. He was glad his friend had showed up, too, or else Cyrus might’ve gotten lost trying to figure out where he was supposed to go. Scanning the area, Fort finally caught sight of him on the lawn, and Cyrus thought he might’ve seen relief explode across his friend’s face. He lifted a hand, giving Fort an excited wave, and Fort waved back. 

“I can’t believe you’re here,” Fort said, once Cyrus caught up to him at the stairs. Knowing he probably couldn’t bring it inside, Cyrus had abandoned his bike, leaving it sitting outside against the wall of the school. 

“Me neither!” Cyrus told him. He couldn’t tell if his body was shaking just from excitement or nerves. 

If Fort felt the same way, he definitely didn’t show it. Even though he’d only been with Fort for a few seconds, it was easy to tell that he belonged here. Back at Oppenheimer, he’d been the weakest kid at school, with hardly any friends or skills in magic. But as they passed a few strangers on the grand marble stairs, people greeted Fort like he was a celebrity, saying things like “Good morning!” and “How are you?” and Cyrus’s favorite, “You look great today, Mr. Fitzgerald!”, which made Fort’s face abruptly turn red. 

“I’m still not used to all the attention,” he muttered to Cyrus, still blushing. “I kinda hate it. And because I’m a teacher, they also call me Mr. Fitzgerald sometimes.” He groaned. “I feel like my dad.”

Cyrus’s eyes gleamed. “I wonder what they’d call me if I teach here.”

Fort glanced at him, almost in surprise. “If?”

“Yeah, because I don’t even have a last name.” The silver-haired boy nudged him. “What would they call me, Mr. Cyrus?”

Fort chuckled. “Yeah, maybe.”

On their way up the last step, Cyrus stumbled for a moment, his foot catching on it. And then a hand caught his, straightening him up, and Cyrus realized that Fort was now clutching his hand, his fingertips brushing against Cyrus’s palm. “You okay?”

“Yeah, I’m okay!” Cyrus quickly replied, and wondered why he couldn’t tear his eyes away from their hands. His heart hammered faster in his chest, not even stopping once Fort let go, seeing as Cyrus wasn’t about to trip into anything else. 

As they walked through the open doors, Cyrus buried his hands in his pockets, afraid that if he didn’t, he might do something stupid like grab his best friend’s hand again, because it’d felt electric. It’d made him feel powerful, and he hadn’t really felt that since he’d last been an Old One, having practically all the power and invincibility in the world. Like that made any sense— and nothing had ever quite made sense to Cyrus. He realized a second too late he’d been replaying the moment in his head, as if it was a big deal. 

But big deal or not, Cyrus couldn’t help but shiver as he thought of the other boy’s hand, the way it’d felt, so warm, unlike his usually cold ones. That was why he was thinking about it, he thought. It just reminded Cyrus all too well that he should really start wearing gloves— he had a bad habit of practically never wearing any when it was cold out, despite his habit to wear layers upon layers of sweaters. It was mid-October, after all, and the temperature only seemed to keep dropping. 

Not that he minded. Compared to living in England, it was surprisingly a lot better. The sun liked to hide there; even days in the summer were often cool and cloudy and rainy. For that reason, Cyrus was glad when they reached the inside of the school, because a rush of warm air washed over him. Apparently air conditioning was possible thousands of feet above the ground— probably just by the use of magic. And here, magic was everywhere. 

Cyrus hadn’t always been sure about the school, and definitely still wasn’t sure about teaching. But now he could see exactly why Fort had sounded so excited when he’d talked about the school. The halls were filled with people of all ages, some even just a few years older than the kids born on Discovery Day, to Cyrus’s amazement. Although he knew anyone of any age was at the school now, he hadn’t actually believed it until he was seeing it in person. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fort smiling widely at him, obviously pleased with Cyrus’s reaction. Cyrus had never seen him so happy at the old Oppenheimer schools. 

Cyrus glanced at his friend, his eyes becoming impossibly wide. “Fort . . . you— this is incredible.” 

“Oh, this was mostly Rachel and Jia,” Fort instantly replied, as if he had nothing to do with any of this. 

“And you!” Cyrus reminded him, grinning back. He turned back to staring at all the people in the hallway, strangely feeling really glad now. Everyone deserved to learn magic. He was half-tempted to bring his family here, just to rub it in their faces that all these humans were learning magic. That definitely must be a low blow for his family, he thought happily. 

They weaved through the hallways, where kids and adults alike chatted and rushed to their next classes, some even practicing magic from the tips of their fingers. No spells, since this old, original magic didn’t require any. All you needed was to imagine what you wanted to happen, and ask the magic to do it for you, instead of commanding it. Cyrus felt his hands itch to do some magic of his own, suddenly missing the way his Time magic had danced across his palms in a black glow. 

Or maybe he could learn something else while he was here, just because he could. He could do anything— there were no limitations anymore. Probably the magic he’d practiced the most over the years was Summoning magic, but that’d just been to teleport places he’d needed to go. But it’d be nice to learn something else for a change, something he wasn’t used to. Healing magic had always sounded pretty helpful, as did the glamours that the Tylwyth Teg could do— those were always helpful to win other people over to your side. But Cyrus doubted the Faerie Queen would be very pleased seeing him learn that— she hated him. 

And she isn’t the only one, Cyrus thought, remembering the people he was about to see. Besides Fort, Rachel and Jia were the only ones he’d really talked to since leaving the battlefield at D.C., and Cyrus was convinced things would still be a little awkward. 

As for the rest of Fort’s friends— Sierra and Xenea and Ellora— Cyrus had messed with all of their lives somehow. Including Damian, who wasn’t Fort’s friend, but surely would not be happy to see Cyrus, either. The list definitely didn’t stop there. He was sure that everyone who attended the Oppenheimer school must’ve known Cyrus’s true identity by now, and probably were at least a little uncomfortable he’d be coming here. 

Oh yeah, and there was one more person. He remembered the boy standing next to him, who could turn around and hate Cyrus all over again. Cyrus pushed the painful idea out of his head. Fort wouldn’t hate him, just as Cyrus could never, ever hate Fort. They were past that— they were becoming real friends again, and the fact that Cyrus was able to call anyone a friend was a miracle. Then again, so was the fact that he was here, in the new school, faced with the idea that he might become someone better. Two miracles. 

Cyrus was officially done with hiding who he was, officially ready to move on, but the thought of all this confrontation almost made him want to turn right back around and leave. No one would blame him. What if he was making a mistake by coming here? He’d already questioned Fort’s choices to hire Cyrus, and now he was questioning his own choices to agree to it even more. Even now, teaching humans would’ve been the last thing he’d ever seen himself doing. A part of him wanted to help, wanted to make up for everything he’d done, but he still didn’t understand why he’d decided to come at all. 

He caught people there in the hallway, their eyes following him as he passed, and wondered if they knew who Cyrus really was. Maybe there was a subject about Old Ones at this new school. Maybe they all knew about him. That idea made him want to leave even more. If not that, he’d probably get kicked out after his first day anyway, no matter how much he may have changed since he’d last set foot in a magical school. The more time Cyrus spent at Utopia, the more he was convinced he shouldn’t actually be here. 

But he couldn’t back out of this. He had to stay like he’d promised, at least for a few days. Or even just one day. For Fort. 

By the time they reached their destination— a brightly-colored mess hall— Cyrus’s palms were so sweaty that he had to wipe them constantly on his sweater. Not wanting to seem nervous around Fort, Cyrus quickly pushed his arms back at his sides whenever the other boy glanced his way. That was when Cyrus realized Fort had been gushing to him about the school, and in his darkening thoughts, Cyrus had tuned him out completely. And whatever Fort had been saying was lost as they both turned into the mess hall, and a swarm of familiar faces greeted Cyrus. 

All of Fort’s friends were sitting around a round table— the kind that resembled the cafeterias Cyrus used to eat lunch in at school. None of them were actually eating, though. Instead, they seemed to be talking quietly, not even noticing that Fort and Cyrus had entered the room. He glanced around the table, emotions swelling up inside him as he recognized the people he used to go to school with. Rachel, Jia, and Ellora, for starters. And then the ones he’d interacted less with, like Sierra, Damian, and an adult faerie with green skin who Cyrus had to assume was Xenea. 

You’ve lied to everyone in this room, a disapproving voice said in Cyrus’s head. His mouth felt even dryer after remembering that. He wouldn’t have regretted lying if it’d been for good reasons, but it’d been for very, very bad ones, which was what made it worse. He couldn’t imagine why any of them would trust him. 

The first person to notice them was Sierra. Probably hearing their footsteps, she stopped mid-sentence and looked up, her gaze landing on them. Cyrus could see her eyes grow a little wider as they fell on him— for just a second— and then they flitted back to Fort. By that point, she was already standing up from the table, stepping across the bench. A huge grin emerged on her face, and then she was walking over to them, saying, “Fort, you made it!” 

Now that she was closer, Cyrus could tell she looked different since the last time he’d seen her— which really, he couldn’t remember seeing her since the battle in D.C. and Maryland. While she looked the same overall, with a black leather jacket and ripped jeans, he noticed she was now a few inches taller than Fort. Barely noticeable, unless you saw them standing side-by-side. Which, Cyrus realized, was very common for Fort and Sierra. 

It happened before Cyrus even realized what was going on, and he didn’t need his future vision to predict the blush that would spread across Fort’s face. Sierra rushed forward and threw her arms around Fort, and the other boy grinned, hugging her back just as tightly. When they pulled away, Sierra’s arm stayed hanging over Fort’s shoulder, like it was something she did casually everyday. Cyrus watched with wide eyes, wondering, with a pang in his heart, if Fort would ever hug him like that again.

Despite growing closer again over the past three years, Cyrus found that even when he wanted to hug Fort, he’d never initiated it, not being sure if Fort was comfortable with it. And Fort had never initiated one, either. Maybe for the same reason. But the way he and Sierra hugged, it was like Fort had just come back from war or something. And they both were teachers here, so they must’ve seen each other every day! How come Fort didn’t hug Cyrus, when they usually didn’t see each other for months at a time? 

Weirdly, Cyrus felt a little glad when they’d stopped looking at each other, as if they were the only ones in the room. He didn’t know why it bothered him so much. It was all forgotten as Sierra turned to look at him, her grin faltering only slightly. She moved towards him, and for a second Cyrus worried that she might try to hug him, too. He didn’t know how he’d react if she did— he wasn’t used to people hugging him. But to his relief, she didn’t make any attempts. 

“Cyrus, hey!” Sierra said, if a bit awkwardly. “We weren’t sure you were coming.” She nudged Fort, grinning. “Fort almost wanted me to brainwash you to come.”

“I wasn’t going to brainwash anyone!” Fort said, rolling his eyes. But he was smiling. “I just thought having Cyrus here would be helpful.” 

“We have been needing more people to teach Time magic,” a girl spoke up from behind Cyrus, and he whirled around. It was Ellora. 

That was when he realized all the others had stood from the table, coming over to join their conversation. Cyrus wasn’t sure if the others could feel it, but there seemed to be a tension in the air, so thick that it was impossible to break. He could sense it, everyone’s wariness. They were wary of him. Well, some were wary, some (like Damian and Xenea) looked annoyed, and some . . . just looked worried. Cyrus had no idea what to say. Hello, nice to see you all! Sorry I manipulated you, I thought I was doing the right thing to help my family, who I now hate? 

Swallowing hard, he turned to look at Fort, who gave Cyrus a small smile. Even though that smile seemed forced, it sent a wave of reassurance through Cyrus, as if assuring him that everything would be okay. Finally, he found his voice. He looked at Ellora, who was somehow the easiest person to look at right now. “Great!” He gave her a nervous smile. “I’m not much of a teacher, but I hope I can help.” 

Xenea scoffed. “Are you sure helping is something you know how to do?” 

His smile faded, and he glanced uncomfortably at the people around him, simultaneously trying not to feel annoyance towards the faerie girl. “I’m sure you all remember seeing me turn against my family at the battle—“

“Not really,” Damian muttered.

“So,” Cyrus continued. “I swear I’m not supporting them anymore. And . . . I owe you all an apology.” His eyes lingered on Rachel and Jia. “I’m so sorry for what I did. My family lied to me, told me that humans were dangerous and couldn’t handle magic properly . . . they taught me everything I know, and so . . . I thought we were bringing order to chaos.” The words felt bitter in his throat. “I justified the horrible things they did because I thought they were right. But I didn’t realize they wanted all the power of magic for themselves, even if it meant destroying anyone who stood against them.” He sighed. “But I don’t believe any of that anymore, so I’m hoping I can start over.”

For a few seconds, everyone fell silent, and Cyrus could hear his heart pounding in his ears. He glanced down at his feet, completely missing the proud look that Fort was giving him. It was Jia who broke the silence first. “You can, and I’m really glad you came around.” She hesitated. “So you’re . . . sure you actually want to help us teach here?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but Damian cut him off. He was fully glaring at Cyrus. “Show us. I want a signed petition that proves you won’t try to mess with all of our lives again.”

Sierra waved a hand. “Psh, we don’t need that.”

“Yeah,” Fort said, glaring at him. “I trust Cyrus. He’s on our side.” 

“Our side?” Damian repeated, looking at Cyrus suspiciously. 

“Yes, Damian,” Rachel said, giving him a dirty look too. She glanced at Cyrus. “You’re lucky I’m the forgiving type. In that I’m not sure I forgive you at all—“ Jia reached over and pinched her, and she winced. “Right. But, since you seem to be trying, I’m willing to try. You seem much cooler than you were last time I saw you, so I’ll give you that.”

Cyrus nodded, feeling more glad at her words. “I understand if you can’t forgive me. Feel free to drop me in a volcano if I show the smallest signs of being like my family, okay?”

Jia shrugged, a slightly strained smile on her face. “Well, if you’re becoming anything like Merlin, maybe we won’t have to.”

“Or in that case, maybe you will.” Cyrus cringed in halfhearted disgust, his words coming off more as a joke— though he sort of meant it literally, too. “Who would wanna be like him?”

“Uh, apparently you do,” Fort snorted. Cyrus shot him a look that said Really?— meant to be a look of annoyance, but probably was more out of fondness. Only to realize that his friend hadn’t seen it. Instead, his attention was locked on Sierra. She was snickering at him, and Fort was making a face back. There it was again— that weird feeling, like a burning sensation in Cyrus’s chest. He quickly looked away, hoping whatever he was feeling would stop.

“Really, I mean it,” Cyrus insisted, still seeing some wariness on some of their faces. “I’m not my old self. Is it okay I’m here?”

Everyone made noises of agreement, except from Xenea and Damian, who still didn’t seem too excited about the idea. Ellora moved closer to him. “As long as you can help teach Time stuff, I’m okay with it.”

Deciding he should leave out the fact that he wasn’t sure he could teach, Cyrus replied, “Okay. Just as long as we don’t mention I used to be an Old One.”

She gave him a funny look, but nodded. “Sure, no problem.”

And then, to everyone’s surprise, Rachel smiled. “Good to have you back, Cy.” 

Cyrus looked down with a smile of his own. 

Just like that, the ice had broken. 

“You owe me money, Dragon Boy,” Xenea whispered to Damian. “You bet me twenty bucks he wasn’t coming.” 

“Fine,” Damian grumbled, and held his hand out. He closed his eyes for a moment, and a twenty dollar bill shimmered onto his palm. Xenea quickly snatched it up and shoved it into her pocket, while everyone else watched with different levels of amusement.

Cyrus didn’t know what it was— the fact that they’d bet on him or how serious they were acting about it, but he found himself wanting to laugh. And then he caught Sierra’s eye, who was clearly trying not to laugh, and Cyrus couldn’t hold it in. The two of them broke out into laughter, and after a moment, so did Fort, Rachel, Jia, and Ellora. He even thought he saw Xenea snort. Damian just glared at the rest of them, but at least this time, Cyrus knew it wasn’t so much directed at him. 

And then, Cyrus paused. “Wait, these are all the teachers you have? Just six of you?”

“What?” Jia rose her eyebrows in surprise. “You think we could run a school with that many of us?”

Rachel nudged her. “Hey, he’s never been here, Gee.” She grinned at Cyrus. “We have a few more teachers, but New Kid over here just didn’t think it was necessary to invite everyone to our meeting.”

“Why do you still call me ‘New Kid’?” Fort complained. “We’ve known each other since we were twelve!”

“Doesn’t matter, New Kid,” she replied, and a few of them laughed— Cyrus included.

And then, he furrowed his brow. “Hey, why didn’t you invite any of the other teachers? Shouldn’t they get informed I’m gonna start working here?” 

“Oh, they will!” Sierra said. “Honestly, just be glad they’re not all here. Like Sebastian— he’d definitely try giving you a disease if he were here.”

Xenea‘s eyes lit up. “Are you all forgetting you can do any kind of magic? We could give him a disease now, it’s only fair! My queen will be very glad to hear that. Might even give me a promotion!” She started towards Cyrus, seemingly thrilled at the idea, but Fort pushed her back. 

“Nope!” he said, glaring at Xenea. “No one’s getting any diseases.”

“Yet.” She smiled back at him evilly, and Fort sighed, muttering something about how she was just as bad as Ember. Clearly wanting to be here less and less, Damian rolled his eyes.

“Who else is teaching?” Cyrus asked, and his eyes widened. “The Chads?”

Sierra winked at him. “Unfortunately? Yes.”

Although he didn’t admit it to anyone, Cyrus was more than thrilled to find out that he wouldn’t start teaching today. Instead, he was supposed to observe Ellora teach, to get the hang of how teaching Time magic worked. Doing it had been second nature to Cyrus, but he’d never tried explaining it to other people. To him, it was like explaining how to breathe. It just happened. How could you explain things like looking into the future or moving yourself through time?  

And also, he hadn’t figured out yet how he’d deal with his not-doing-Time-magic problem, or any of the other problems that came with formerly being an Old One. So far, no one had objected to him teaching. Fort must’ve talked everyone into it, or maybe no one was objecting because Fort was there. Aka, the only person who Cyrus really felt had his back. But as he and Ellora walked alone to her class, leaving the others behind to get ready for their own classes, she was surprisingly more supportive than he’d expected her to be.

Especially since they were alone.

“I heard from Fort you visited the Cartharman school,” Ellora said casually as she led him up a stairwell. “How was that?”

Remembering his run-in with the faeries, Cyrus winced. “It was okay. I didn’t actually get to see much of it— the Faerie Queen pretty much tried capturing me as soon as I arrived.” At the confused look on her face, he added, “She’s always been my biggest enemy.” 

“Your biggest?” She glanced sideways at him. “You got a list or something?” 

That almost made him laugh. “I guess I do? Only difference now is my family’s at the top.”

Ellora smiled. “Oh, now that’s understandable. Top of mine is William, probably, but Simon’s close behind him. I guess that can’t compare to your list though, huh? No one can reach that level of being a monster. Not unless you’re an Old One.” 

She was referring to his family, Cyrus realized. But by calling the Old Ones monsters, wasn’t she kind of calling Cyrus that, too? He stiffened, and after a second, Ellora’s eyes widened, like the realization had clicked for her, too. She slapped her forehead. “Oh no, that came out wrong. Cyrus, when I said Old Ones, I was referring to your family, not you. I shouldn’t have—“

Cyrus covered his pain with a quick laugh. “Ellora, it’s okay!” he said quickly, hoping, with a little bitterness, that they wouldn’t have to talk about his family anymore. “I know what you meant.” 

“Oh, okay.” She let out a breath, and Cyrus felt relieved when she didn’t mention anything about Old Ones for the rest of their walk. 

They continued on until they reached what seemed to be a lecture hall, which was already filled with dozens of people. The hall was bright, the walls and ceiling painted white like everything else here. Long rows of desks were were formed like bleachers, as the desks were staggered in height, allowing everyone to get a good view of the front of the room. Behind each desk were several big, comfy chairs, reminding Cyrus of the seats he and Fort had been in at the cinema. Above it all was a sunroof on the ceiling, allowing sunlight to wash in. 

If every classroom looked like this, Cyrus could totally understand the appeal of coming to the school, on top of everything else. 

Every single person in the classroom was older than Cyrus— he still couldn’t wrap his head around the fact that the kids were the ones who were teaching, and not the other way around! But as Ellora walked in, everyone quieted down, their eyes shining with respect. Cyrus was pretty sure the only adult who’d really looked at him with respect had been Dr. Opps (but if he’d known the truth— that Cyrus had been lying to him from the start, that might not be the case).

Ellora waved him over to one side of the room, where an empty chair was sitting near the wall. She turned back to him. “You can sit here.” 

Cyrus stared at her, confused. “You don’t need me to do anything?”

She gave him an apologetic look. “No, just watch me teach, and maybe give me some tips if you see something I can do better? You know time better than anyone.” 

So that was how Cyrus found himself, sitting on the chair with his knees pulled up to his chin. He could feel the class’s eyes on him— obviously, they didn’t get many newcomers. They must’ve realized he was a Time student by now; if not for the fact that he was observing, then maybe because of his silver hair, which glowed brightly under the patches of sunlight that filtered in through the windows. When it came for Ellora to start class, she thankfully kept her promise to not introduce him as the Timeless One. 

“Good morning, students!” she announced, her voice seeming to echo around the room. “You may have noticed we have a guest here today. This is Cyrus.” Everyone looked at Cyrus, who waved. Ellora cleared her throat. “He‘s going to teach Time, so he’s just here to observe for today. Now, does anyone remember what we practiced yesterday?”

A hand raised in the front— belonging to an old man with a white beard, which almost gave Cyrus a heart attack, thinking it was Merlin. But the man’s beard was too short, and his face didn’t have nearly as many smile lines as Merlin’s did. As Ellora called on him, he answered, “Seeing into the future.” 

Oh, Cyrus thought. Now that’s easy. 

“Good!” Ellora said, and Cyrus couldn’t help feeling impressed how good she was at this teaching thing. Then again, she must’ve been teaching since the school had opened two years ago, with the Utopia school opening over a year after the attacks in D.C and Maryland. She gestured to her students. “Everyone, close your eyes, like we practiced.” 

Everyone did, and Ellora began explaining the process of looking into the future, how sometimes it could be fuzzy, while other times entire visions could come to someone (and adding that things could change, depending on how things changed in the present). After that, she encouraged the adults to try. Cyrus half-expected everyone in the room to go insane, to lose their minds, like his fellow Time students had after studying the book of Clairvoyance. But he guessed it was different here, since no spells actually needed to be studied. Everything they needed was already in their minds.

The whole class was a few hours long, and by the end of it, almost the entire class seemed to have success looking into the future. Cyrus had never seen anything like it. So many people, seeing the future without even an issue? It excited him. Granted, it wasn’t like they could see all of time yet— sometimes when looking into the future, it was better to get more specific, or else you could get visions of just about anything. But all the students seemed to be learning fast, and Cyrus walked out of it thinking that maybe, teaching Time wouldn’t be so terrible. 

At least, not with Ellora teaching it. 

And someone else seemed to think so, too. As Cyrus and Ellora left the classroom, talking about all things Time magic together, they quickly parted ways, since Ellora was heading back to her dorm room before dinner. Fort had asked for Cyrus to meet him downstairs to go to dinner once they were both out of class, so that was where Cyrus was headed when a familiar voice echoed after him. Damian’s. 

“Careful, everyone,” he called, loud enough for some of the people in the hallway to glance over. “That one might try to manipulate you.” 

Cyrus sighed. Without turning around, he answered, “I’m here to teach, Damian.”

“What’s the real reason? What do you get out of this?” 

“Why would I want something?” 

Okay, in the past, Cyrus might only do certain things because he wanted something. That was how he operated. He’d never do anything if he didn’t get something out of it, but this was the one thing he didn’t have a reason for. And Cyrus really didn’t want anything more than he already had. He was past all the bargaining. The only thing he wanted now was to finally feel like he was doing something good for humans, for magic— something his family would hate. Couldn’t that be enough? 

“Isn’t that your thing? Don’t you always want something? You can’t possibly want to help other people learn magic.” He scoffed. “No, you’re only here because Fort wants you here. Can’t imagine why.”

Cyrus slowly turned around, somewhat confused — and a little hurt — by the last statement. “Because he needs me— you all need more people to help teach. He’s just offering me a job.”

“We both know you’re not really here just to teach. What did Fort offer you?”

“Offer me?” Cyrus remarked. “Nothing!” 

“Then what are you planning?” 

“To teach Time magic!” 

“Or you’re just here to trick us all again. Maybe you’re hoping to use your friendship with Fort to get closer to the rest of us, so you can steal magic from humans. It’s not exactly uncommon for you to lie and deceive to get people on your side, is it, Old One?”

This had been exactly what Cyrus had been expecting, and the weird part was— he felt almost relieved that someone had finally said it. Just to get the conversation over with. He gritted his teeth. “Please call me Cyrus. Or while we’re calling each other former names, I guess I should refer to you as the chosen one? You liked calling yourself that.”

Damian’s eyes flashed. “No, I don’t think I will call you Cyrus. Sounds too human for you.”

“Does it?” He felt confused— why would Damian care why Cyrus’s name sounded human, when Damian was human himself? “I’m not sure I see why that’s a problem.”

“It’s obvious, isn’t it? We both know how much Old Ones despise humans.”

“I don’t despise humans. I like humans.” Not to mention, his only friend was human. But Cyrus didn't add that part.

“Sure, you 'like' humans." Damian used air quotes. "Doesn't mean you won't turn against us all eventually."

Cyrus shook his head, more frustrated now. “I told you already: I’m here to teach magic.” He didn’t like the way his voice was shaking. “And I’m really starting to like a lot more humans. Of course, there are some that are actually evil, but I like most of the ones I’ve met on my travels—“ 

Damian laughed coldly. “Oh, did you take them home with you? Keep them as pets?”

Cyrus just stared at him, doing everything he could to hold himself together. Damian was just saying this stuff on purpose. He’d never liked Cyrus, but he’d never actually confronted him like this, either. And what did Damian know? He hadn’t seen Cyrus there in Atlantis, when he’d found out a secret that’d been the turning point in his beliefs. He barely knew anything about Cyrus, other than him being a once-manipulative Old One. And he definitely didn’t see how haunted Cyrus felt by his past, how much he’d tried to shake all remnants of his old self away. 

He had changed. He was still changing, and had a long way to go. The only person who that really mattered to was Cyrus.  

Finally, he said, “I’d never think of them as pets. We’re all the same.” 

Damian snorted. “So you care about humans?”

“And what if I do?”

For a second, that seemed to throw the other boy off. And then a slow smile came to his face, one that didn’t make Cyrus feel reassured. “If you do, you won’t mind me reading your mind and finding out the truth? Not just Sierra who can do that kind of thing anymore, you know.” At Cyrus’s reaction, Damian smiled wider. “What? Just trying to protect my friends! Make sure you’re not going to turn them all into servants, you know?” 

Cyrus blinked several times, feeling like he’d been slapped. But he couldn’t show he felt hurt— especially not in front of someone like Damian. And for once, Cyrus wholeheartedly understood why Fort had disliked Damian so much. His was for a different reason, but it still was very understandable. 

“Read my mind some other time, Damian,” he hissed, feeling too worn out to deal with this conversation. “I’m really different now, but I don’t need to prove anything to you.”

And then he walked away. 

Unlike the Oppenheimer school, the Utopia school didn’t have a boys’ dormitory to sleep in, with fifty military-style bunk beds lined up in rows across the room. Instead, boarding at the school was optional, and everyone slept in a room with only two beds, which shared a bathroom that connected to another room next door. A single nightstand sat in between the beds, and two dressers sat against the opposite wall. Unnecessary if you asked Cyrus, who always just used magic to get new clothes (much easier than carrying stuff around).

It was Fort who ended up offering to be Cyrus’s roomate, which he was secretly overjoyed about. It brought a relief to Cyrus, who didn’t really love the idea of sharing a room with Damian or Sebastian or Gabriel, or even a total stranger. Really, Cyrus had never tried being friends with any of the other boys from the Oppenheimer school. He’d been friendly with them, but seeing as he was a Time student, most of the boys steered clear of him, probably not wanting him to see into their futures or something. For that, he was used to being the odd one out. 

There were no adults in the dorms, Cyrus noticed. Only the kids. Really, all of the people who boarded at the school were the teachers. Aka, the students from the Oppenheimer and Clairvoyance schools alike. At least, the ones who’d decided to come help teach. Cyrus figured that a lot of the others, like him, didn’t love the idea of teaching. But he wasn’t doing it because he liked it. He was pretty sure he’d be a horrible teacher, but as long as he taught people to use Time magic responsibly, that’d be good enough for Cyrus. 

Assuming using Time magic wouldn’t curse him again, or reverse all the hard work Cyrus had put into his development. He shook the thought away. He had to think positive, he reminded himself. If Fort had asked him to teach, it meant he trusted Cyrus. So Cyrus had to trust himself. And Merlin used Time magic and was still good, right? Following his train of thought, Cyrus sighed in what he hoped was a halfhearted annoyance. Man, he really needed a better role model than Merlin. 

Not that there really seemed to be a better one, for now. Admittedly, Cyrus barely felt angry at all when he thought of his future self. Okay, a little, but that was just because Merlin had almost talked in riddles, saying things that never made sense. That was what annoyed him, more than anything. And then there were all the secrets Merlin had kept, like how he’d known Cyrus’s family had lied to him, and how he’d known all about magic being destroyed and restored again. Maybe one thing they had in common was how many secrets they kept, no matter how much development either of them had. 

Still, aside from all of that, Cyrus found himself thinking of his future self whenever he needed guidance. Especially now, when he was supposed to start teaching tomorrow, and hadn’t even practiced Time magic first. He should at least practice something basic first, like looking into the future. He could look into his own future, maybe to the next day, and see what he’d be having for breakfast. That sounded harmless enough! And easy. Maybe it’d even be fun, using his future vision again.

Feeling more optimistic from his self pep talk, Cyrus squeezed his eyes shut, readying himself. And then there was Ketas’s voice, creeping into the back of his mind. Go on, Emrys. Use your power! Become the best at Time magic once again. You should be in charge here, not those humans. Use it and rise to greatness! Avenge us! 

“No!”

Cyrus shot up in bed, and it took him all of a second to realize that he wasn’t the one who’d shouted. He turned slowly in confusion, only for his eyes to land on Fort, who was in a bed against the opposite wall. And then he heard something worse: crying. Uh-oh. Something had to be wrong. His fears about his family and Time magic were instantly forgotten as Cyrus threw the covers off of himself, crossing the space between his and Fort’s bed. He rushed to his friend’s side, unable to push down his worry.

“Fort?” Cyrus whispered. “Are you okay?” 

Fort’s breath hitched. “Cyrus?” 

“Are you okay?” Cyrus repeated softly. 

“Yeah. Just . . . just a nightmare,” the other boy mumbled, rubbing his eyes. “I’m fine. Go back to sleep.” 

That wasn’t the sound of someone who actually was okay; Cyrus may be good at hiding it, but Fort especially wasn’t. So he didn’t need to be told twice. He climbed onto Fort’s bed, sitting at the foot of it. Fort used to have nightmares all the time at the Oppenheimer school; Cyrus just didn’t know that Fort still had them now. Who would have expected that? It was like more and more about Fort was surprising him, catching him off guard. 

He liked the surprise, but he would’ve way preferred it if Fort had completely happy, meaningless dreams from now on. He deserved it, maybe more than anyone in the entire world deserved it. Scratch that, there was no maybe. He deserved it more than anyone, after everything Cyrus had watched him go through. Cyrus found himself having nightmares too, on rare occasions. Plagued with memories of his family and how they’d tricked him . . . how they’d twisted his mind before a boy his age had twisted it back. 

But tonight wasn’t about him. 

Cyrus reached across the bed until his hand sat just inches from Fort’s ankle, his plaid-covered pajamas practically glowing against the moonlight. “Was it your dad again?” 

Fort blinked up at him, then shook his head slightly. “No.”

“Was it about my horrible family?”

That made Fort smile a little, but it quickly faded. “I don’t wanna talk about it.”

“Okay. I get it. You know, if I looked into the future, I’d probably know what you’re dreaming, because you’d tell me eventually. Can’t hide everything from me, Fort.” Cyrus chuckled, meaning it as a joke. He expected the other boy to at least crack a smile back, and he was wrong. Cyrus’s smile faded. “But you don’t have to tell me. I’m just thinking it could help to—“

“No.” Fort shook his head slightly. “I don’t even remember what it was about, anyway.” 

As someone who was pretty much an expert at it, Cyrus thought he might be lying. 

“Well, whatever it was, it made you wake up crying. I’ve already heard enough of that at Oppenheimer!” 

“What, you don’t wanna be woken up by my crying?” 

“Huh?” Realizing how that must’ve sounded, Cyrus waved his hands. “Oh, no! I just meant . . . I don’t like seeing you cry. Maybe once there was a time . . . well, let's just say my family relished it when humans suffered, so I always thought I was supposed to enjoy that sort of thing. But even then . . . I’ve hated seeing you suffer the most, Fort.” Voice growing softer, he blinked a few times. “I wanna help, to make up for everything. And if you want me to go back to bed, I’ll go. It’s no problem.” 

He searched Fort’s eyes for an answer, but Fort wasn’t looking at him. He was staring at the wall behind Cyrus’s head, which he guessed was enough of an answer. Feeling strangely disappointed, Cyrus moved to hop off the bed. But before he could, a hand tugged on his sleeve. “Wait. I still don’t wanna talk about it, but can you maybe . . . hang out here with me until I fall asleep?” 

Cyrus felt his heart squeeze. “Sure.”

“Won’t try to kill me?” 

He had to laugh. “You’re basically my one real friend in the universe, Fort. If you died, I’d have no one to talk to!”

He could hear a smile in Fort’s voice. “So we’re friends.”

“Yeah,” Cyrus whispered back, unable to keep from smiling himself. Best friends, he added silently. 

He said it after a second of hesitation, after so many years of acting like Fort wasn’t really his friend, because he couldn’t be, not when Cyrus only needed him for getting his family back. All that time, he could’ve stopped with the manipulation. He could’ve dropped his plans and picked up a new one, a new one called actually living his life for himself, because up until now, everything he’d ever done had been for his family. Everything he’d ever done had been based on a lie. 

He could’ve been Fort’s friend from the start— no lies about his identity, no hidden methods behind each conversation. It would’ve been nice, he knew. While he’d still had fun with Fort back then, and while their friendship had never felt exactly fake, this somehow felt . . . better. Finally, he could just be himself, but a version that was better, around Fort. It was weird, how being around his friend just automatically made him want to be better. And once he’d started, there was no reversing it. 

Fort shuffled over, moving to the far end of his bed, and Cyrus climbed over to lay beside him. It was a little squished— the bed was clearly mainly meant for one person, but they fit pretty easily. Cyrus rested his head on a pillow— the one Fort wasn’t using, and turned his head to face Fort. Weirdly, it was the calmest he’d felt all day. Usually it was easy for Cyrus to feel calm— or at least, to act calm, during the rare times he wasn’t. But between coming to the school and seeing all his former friends, his heart had been pounding all day. For once, it had slowed. 

Figuring he needed some kind of distraction, Cyrus gently nudged Fort with his leg. “Look. I might be taller than you now.” 

Fort glanced over, looking at where their feet stuck out from beneath the blanket. He snorted. “No, you're not. But maybe someday, you’ll grow as tall as you were in your Old One form.”

“Huh, I never pictured how tall I was then. What do you think? Like, nine feet? Ten feet?” 

It was Fort’s turn to kick him. “You were also floating. That had to make you seem taller.” 

“You’re right. Nine it is.” Cyrus laughed softly. “I think I’ll grow even taller though, yeah? Merlin’s pretty tall. Never asked him how tall he was, though.” 

“He’s also old. Don’t old people get shorter as they age?” 

Cyrus just looked at him, half-astonished, half-amused. “Are you calling me old?”

“You? No. Your older self? Yeah.” 

“Then yeah. I guess he could’ve shrunk. Still, he was taller than me, which means I’ll probably still be taller than you! I’m not sure if that phrase ‘How’s the weather up there?’ is actually used or if it’s just shown in American movies . . .” He trailed off, his tired brain trying to work out if he’d ever heard the phrase being said in person. 

“Where were you born?” 

“Everywhere.” At the annoyed look on Fort’s face, Cyrus grinned. “Just kidding. Wales, actually, if I’m remembering correctly. But I mostly grew up in London.”

“So you weren’t lying about that!”

“How else would I sound like this?”

“I don’t know. You could’ve been faking it.”

Cyrus made a face. “Who fakes their own accent? Which by the way, I don’t have an accent. It’s you who has the accent. And honestly, it’s a very weird one!” 

“Everyone has an accent. Mine’s just the majority here.” 

“Do you think I should start talking like this?” He tried out an American accent, but Cyrus had never done it before, and it was harder to do than he excepted.

Fort was laughing. “What was that?” 

Cyrus felt confused, but couldn’t help glaring at the other boy, positive that Fort was making fun of him. His cheeks felt hot. “. . . An American accent!”

“That’s the worst accent I’ve ever heard.” 

“My point exactly.” Before Fort could register what he’d said, Cyrus’s eyes lit up. “Hey, if you were born on a different planet like Mars or the moon, what would your accent sound like?”

“First of all, the moon isn’t a planet.” 

“Not officially. Yet.”

“What do you mean ‘yet’?!” 

Cyrus smiled to himself. He liked freaking Fort out, even if it was just fake hints about the future. “Do you know how accents are formed? How they came to exist?”

“Cyrus, it’s like three in the morning. Why are we talking about this?” 

Cyrus had no idea. And, he realized, Fort was the only person he probably could talk to like this. 

“Because we have to.” 

“We also didn’t have to talk about how tall you got, but here we are.”

“Yes we did!” Cyrus said, his idea to tell Fort about the origins of accents quickly forgotten. “It’s weird how we were still practically the same height a year ago, and now I’ve grown up to eight feet.” 

“Oh my god. You’re probably like, barely one inch taller than me. I still think we're still the same height."

Cyrus felt a smile tug at his lips. “A bunch of your friends are taller than you, I’ve noticed. Sierra, Jia, Xenea—“ 

“Ugh. I feel like everyone’s getting taller than me. I’m still waiting for my growth spurt to kick in. My dad said I got taller, but he always says things like that.”

Cyrus grinned. “I like your dad.” He deepened his voice, attempting to mimic Mr. Fitzgerald. “Forsythe, when are you running for President?” 

Fort let out a groan. “He just says that to embarrass me.” 

“Again, I like your dad.” And then Cyrus remembered something, his eyes growing wider. “Hey, has he tried doing magic yet? I heard you were going to bring him to the school at some point."

“Oh yeah, he’s visited me a ton since we opened. Summoning’s actually the first magic he tried doing, because we don’t have a car and my dad didn’t want to buy another one.” Fort’s shoulders shook with laughter, and Cyrus couldn’t help but join him. “So he teleports a lot just to visit me. He keeps trying to sit in on my classes, so this one time, I finally let him, and—” Cyrus didn’t have to see Fort’s face to know he was blushing. “By the end of class, he’d bragged to everyone about me.” 

“I’m not seeing anything bad about that! But look on the bright side— it’s better to have a father that brags about you than a father who’s still kidnapped.”

“Yeah,” Fort agreed, sounding more tired than before. He flipped over, facing away from Cyrus. “Definitely.” 

Cyrus yawned. “Hey Fort?” 

“Yeah?”

“I have to tell you something, about tomorrow.” Cyrus’s mouth had gone dry. He swallowed, squeezing his eyes shut. “I haven’t done Time magic in a while. It’s been . . . a long time.” 

“Since when?” 

“Since the battle in D.C.”

Fort flipped towards him again, letting out a sigh, and Cyrus could feel it against his face. The concern in his voice was unmistakable. “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“I guess I didn’t think it would make a difference.” Cyrus sighed. “I didn’t know how to tell you when you asked me to be a teacher— I know you’re expecting I should teach Time stuff but . . . Fort, I don’t know if I should.” 

“Why?”

Cyrus’s eyes flew open. He hooked his elbow underneath him, raising his head up. “I’ve . . . I’ve been hearing my family’s voices in my head.”

“What?” Fort demanded. “You mean they can talk to you telepathically? Like through Mind magic?!”

“No, don’t worry! Not like that.” Cyrus laid his head back down, letting his arm fall at his side. “I think it’s just . . . my thoughts.” 

“Your thoughts?”

“Yeah.” He bit his lip, staring up at the dark ceiling. “I’m so used to listening to them, and I don’t know how to get them out of my head. They’re always just there. They . . . they tell me things about me, about humans, about yo—” Cutting himself off, Cyrus tilted his head, looking at Fort with wide eyes. “Am I crazy?”

“No, of course not.” There was a pause. “Well . . . you’ve always been a little crazy.” 

Recognizing the teasing tone in Fort’s voice, Cyrus almost smiled. “So have you.”

“Hey!”

“It’s okay— that’s what makes us better friends! I’m just glad you believe me.”

Undeniable concern was in Fort's voice. “But . . . why do you think you’re hearing your family talk to you?”

Cyrus’s smile faded. “Honestly? I don’t know— it could be for a million reasons. Because I’m used to it, maybe? Because I’ve changed? Because my own family’s trying to manipulate me through my head?” He sighed. “Fighting against them was the best thing I’ve ever done. And it’s the one thing I really feel proud of. But I could’ve been so different, I could’ve stood up against them in the first place, if I’d just known they were lying from the start about humans—“ 

“But you didn’t!” Fort reminded him. “You didn’t remember what actually happened on Atlantis, and they took advantage of that. They wanted you to not know what they’d did, so you’d buy their lies about humans and would try to bring them back from their exile.”

“I know. It’s just kind of the reason why I haven’t done Time magic. Because every other time I’ve used it, I’ve been an Old One, you know? I know I’m not who I used to be anymore, but I don’t want to ever be like that again. I don’t want to use time to manipulate people again. I can’t.” The words came tumbling out, the thoughts he’d kept bottled up starting to shake loose. And before he knew it, he was speaking them out-loud. “And I know it doesn’t make sense and I’m thinking nonsense. But what if I do Time magic, and I instantly become that person again?” 

“You can still do Time magic without becoming that person again.” His eyes searched Cyrus’s. “Time traveling and seeing into the future and everything . . . that won’t turn you back into an Old One. I don’t think anything will. Unless you started supporting your family again, but do you see that happening?”

The very thought of that made Cyrus’s stomach twist with disgust. His tone came off a little harsher than he intended. “No, of course not. That’s as unlikely as your Harry Houdini being real!” 

“Um, that’s— he’s— never-mind. You’re amazing at Time magic. You were literally the Timeless One. You shouldn’t stop doing it just because you’re afraid. And if Merlin was any indication, you’ll be okay. He told me you would change. I know you have.”

Cyrus’s throat suddenly felt tight. In a moment of impulse, he reached over and squeezed Fort’s hand, hoping it would convey the emotions he was feeling. “Thanks, Fort. You’re right.” 

“And . . . if there’s a sign that you’re turning back into your old self, I’ll teleport you straight into a volcano, if it helps.” 

That made Cyrus laugh. “Ah, that sounds nice! I hope it’s an inactive one.”

Fort grinned. “Sadly, nope. It’d have to be real.” He let out another yawn. “But seriously, don’t worry. You’re gonna do okay.” 

“I really hope so,” Cyrus whispered, warmed by Fort’s words. He was too tired to even realize their hands were still touching. His eyelids grew heavier, and he fought to keep them upright. After all, he still needed to go back to his bed. He probably shouldn’t let himself fall asleep here. For a few minutes, both boys were silent, long enough to make Cyrus think he had fallen asleep. But then, Fort’s voice broke through the silence in the room. 

“Why’d you come back to the school, anyway?” he asked sleepily, and Cyrus opened his eyes again, not even remembering having closed them. He watched as Fort pulled the covers closer to his face, his eyes squeezed shut. Cyrus stared at him in the darkness. He traced the details of his friend’s face, Fort’s words echoing around in his head.

Did he even need to ask? Not feeling brave enough, Cyrus waited a long time before answering, his thoughts jumbled and plagued with sleep. He hadn’t come here just because he was bored, or because he needed something new to do . . . had he? He wasn’t sure anymore. There were probably a million reasons why he’d come, just as there were a million reasons why he could’ve never come at all. But out of all of those, one stood out the most. A reason presented itself to Cyrus, over and over, unwelcomingly burning into the intents of his mind. It scared him. He didn’t know how to say it out-loud. 

Because you forced me, Cyrus wanted to say, but a different reply roared to life in his head, becoming impossible to ignore. 

Fort was the reason. He had always been the reason for almost . . . everything, and Cyrus didn’t even know why. In the beginning, becoming his friend had been a necessity, a way to bring his family back. Now, it was a choice. A reason to stay. But why? After all these years, and all his knowledge, he thought he would know this. But he didn’t. And weirdly, he didn’t even care that he didn’t know. Instead, he wanted to embrace it. He wanted to throw all the Old One’s words out of his head forever, and a big piece of moving on felt like coming back to the Utopia school. 

He’d traveled nearly the whole world since the battle in D.C, searching for something that felt like home. Searching and searching and never finding it. He’d felt lost his whole life, utterly alone without his family. And even more alone, when he’d finally found out just how terrible they were— just how much they’d hurt Cyrus to get their way, too. He’d always thought he’d feel at home when he had his family back, that maybe it’d magically fill the gap in his heart. But he’d been wrong about a lot of things, and where his home was . . . that was one of them. 

Maybe, just maybe, it could be here.

“Because of you,” Cyrus mumbled finally, assured by the sounds of Fort’s soft breathing that he had fallen asleep. “I came here . . . for you.”

“It's true, you can't seem to make up your mind / When I told you I did with mine / You won't know if you never try.”

Art made by me:

Chapter Text

Dementia (by Owl City)

"Big surprise, I'm a ghost keeping out of sight / Rub your eyes, you're a star in the summer night."

Usually, Cyrus was good at avoiding things he might regret. But as he got ready for the day, the thought of being a teacher heavy on his mind, he thought he was becoming a living contradiction. Talking with Fort last night had definitely helped, calming his doubts that maybe doing Time magic again wouldn’t be a bad thing. Whether he was ready or not, he’d have to try it today . . . while in front of a class full of adults. In other words, this day was going to either go very well or very sour. 

First, though, there was breakfast. And Cyrus was a big believer in the importance of it. So far, the food here seemed to be excellent— at least, that’s what it had been last night, at dinner. Compared to any school he’d been to, the food had never tasted so good. Probably because it was all made by magic, but he just wasn’t used to having food that actually tasted good, whereas the food at Oppenheimer had been less than average. And who could blame them? Cooking for hundreds of twelve-year-olds (and military soldiers) couldn’t be easy. 

With the promise of good food on his mind, Cyrus was quick to get ready, having not much to do except figure out what to wear. He’d woken up way earlier than Fort had, which turned out to be a good thing, because somehow he’d fallen asleep at his friend’s side, despite promising himself he wouldn’t. He’d never woken up that close to anyone before, and because of it, Cyrus had a funny feeling that he couldn’t quite place. So he did the only thing that made sense. 

He quickly retreated back to his actual bed, messing up the blankets in an attempt to make it look like he’d slept there. All the while, his heart had pounded like a drum inside his chest, and Cyrus had wished he knew why it was in the first place. The other reason he was glad he’d woken up early was because it gave him more time to figure out what to wear, because what were you supposed to wear on your first day as a teacher? Something professional? All the other kids seemed to be wearing regular clothes, but then again, they’d all been teaching for about two years by now. 

Which meant they were way past first impressions, and Cyrus would have to figure this out for himself. 

He’d had to make plenty of first impressions in his life, but it’d been less stressful when he could just lie his way through things, easily convincing the head of each school that he was a normal and average Clairvoyant student with a proneness for smiles and dazed looks. But this was different. He wouldn’t be lying here, and he wouldn’t be pretending to learn any Time magic, either. Here he’d be teaching, and people would be looking to him for the answers. Merlin being a teacher just seemed to make sense, but Cyrus being one just felt downright bizarre. Like trying to fit the wrong puzzle piece. 

Maybe it was the age thing. Maybe once Cyrus was old, he’d think back on this differently. For now, he had no idea what he was doing, which seemed to be a continuous thing for the past three years. Especially now that he was doing something he’d never done before. He guessed the only person who could possibly understand what he was feeling was Merlin— he’d lived this all once before, hadn’t he? But since Merlin had literally told him nothing about the Utopia school, Cyrus had no idea how good this would turn out.

He was almost tempted to look into the future, just to see for himself, but that temptation was overridden by his hesitation to do Time magic. Not yet. At least not until he had some food. 

Stepping into the bathroom, he stared down himself in the mirror and got to work. He magicked on outfit after outfit, trying to decide what looked best. Not having any references to go off of, he went through everything he could think of, from the comfy sweaters he usually wore to button-down shirts that displayed a hint of professionalism. He even tried on an oversized cloak at some point, but quickly disregarded it, as it reminded him all too well of what he wore in his Timeless One form. 

Not that his students would know the difference. But still, Cyrus would, and wasn’t that what was important? But maybe he could try something slightly similar, like a poncho? Yeah! That might— 

Suddenly, a knock came from the other side of the bathroom door. “Um, Cyrus? You in there?”

“Yes! Is that you, Fort?” 

“Yeah. Are you—“

Cyrus reached for the knob and pushed it open, which Fort must’ve not been expecting, because he stumbled back. His friend was already dressed, wearing a green sweatshirt over a pair of faded jeans. Somehow, despite not even brushing it, his hair was already far neater than Cyrus’s— probably because unlike Cyrus, he didn’t have to deal with curly hair. The normalcy of seeing Fort in green brought a weird sort of comfort to Cyrus, and the corners of his mouth curved upwards. 

“You’re wearing green,” he blurted out, before he could stop himself. Cyrus didn’t know why it mattered so much. It was just a color. Colors didn’t mean anything. But with the Oppenheimer uniforms, he’d gotten so used to seeing Fort in green when they’d gone to school together. He didn’t know why— he’d just always liked Fort in that color. Like it meant hanging onto the familiarity of it. 

“Oh, I am?” Fort glanced down at himself, like he didn’t even know what he was wearing. “I didn’t even notice. Why, is it Saint Patrick’s Day or something?” He’d said it jokingly, and Cyrus let out a breath, realizing Fort didn’t make the connection of why Cyrus had said it. 

Instead, Cyrus hurried to change the subject. “Sometime in the future, I’m sure. Uh, does this look okay?” He gestured to the button-down shirt he was wearing, which had a thick sweater over it.

“Yeah, that looks fine. But you know you don’t have to dress up for this thing, right?” 

“Don’t I? It’s my first day teaching. I have to wear something nice!” He moved past Fort out of the bathroom, straightening out his sweater as he crossed the room. “So no offense, but I’m not gonna wear a sweatshirt to class. Now, let’s go to breakfast. I’m famished!”

He was pulling on his shoes when he noticed Fort staring at him. Cyrus stared back, unfocused. He blinked a few times against the morning light. “What?” 

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“What?” he repeated.

Fort looked at him suspiciously. “What do you have against sweatshirts?” 

Cyrus gave him a confused look. Was he being serious? “Huh? Nothing! I just wanna look . . . decent.”

“You think I don’t?”

Finished with his shoes, he vaguely waved a hand at Fort. “No— of course you do.” He made a faded scarf appear in his hands, wrapping it twice around his neck. “You know I’ve always liked you in the green!” 

A small hint of something flashed across Fort’s face— almost like surprise. “Yeah, I remember.” Cyrus thought he might’ve started to smile, but Fort looked away before he could tell. Quickly moving to the door, he pulled it open and took a deep breath, glancing back at Cyrus. “Ready?” 

“For breakfast, or for teaching Time magic?”

“Both.”

“Oh, then that’s easy— breakfast!” Cyrus said, deciding that was what he was most ready for at the moment. “I’ll decide if I’m ready for teaching on the way.” 

Fort tilted his head. “Technically, you already decided you were when I first asked you to come.” 

Cyrus was pretty sure that wasn’t true. He scoffed. “Yeah, okay.”

“You did.”

“No, I didn’t.” 

“Uh, yeah you—“

“Before you say ‘yes you did’, can we go to breakfast, please?” 

“Fine,” Fort muttered, giving into defeat.

“Righty oh!” Cyrus replied, and they couldn’t help grinning at each other as they walked out into the hallway, where a few other boys their age were heading down to breakfast. It didn’t take long to get out of the boys dormitory— only a few turns down hallways and down a quick flight of stairs. They ended up outside, with the brisk morning air hitting their faces, and Cyrus immediately decided he loved the way the Utopia school looked in the mornings. 

Despite the cold that came with October, the sun was like a beacon against his face, seemingly much closer than it’d ever been on the surface of the Earth. The sky was painted blue, with clouds spotted with gray and white rushing in, so close that Cyrus was tempted to try grabbing one (but he knew he physically couldn’t). Across from their dormitory, separated by a wide lawn, he saw the girls dormitory, where a few girls were already starting to head to breakfast, too. They followed the path down to the main building, which took only ten or so minutes to reach. 

They had almost reached the steps of the school when a shadow passed over them, and a second later, a huge, black something fell to the ground right in front of them. Cyrus jumped in surprise, immediately throwing an arm out in front of Fort, and then the image of Ember came into focus, her cat-like eyes bright in the sunlight. Years ago, the sight of her might’ve made Cyrus fear for his life— since she’d threatened to eat him on almost every occasion. Although he’d warmed up to her, that wasn’t to say she didn’t still scare him . . . a little. 

“Ember!” Fort and Cyrus said together, both equally surprised by her presence.

Ember shook her wings out, peering sideways at Cyrus. “Is this boy bothering you, Father?”

“Not as much as he used to,” Fort told her, and Cyrus couldn’t help but chuckle, his face feeling a little warmer. He wasn’t sure why though, since the sun barely provided warmth anymore. 

“Ah, so he is bothering you somewhat.” Ember’s eyes gleamed. “Does that mean you agree I should eat him?” 

Cyrus felt a pang of fear. He involuntarily took a step backward. “Eating me? Aren’t we passed that? Me and Fort are friends now!” 

“Hmmm. Friends.” She drawled out the word, looking at him almost amusedly. “We shall see if that’s true, Timeless One.” 

Fort rolled his eyes. “It is. Would he be here if we weren’t friends?” 

“I know, you’re right.” Ember shook with laughter. “I just enjoy teasing you, Father.” 

Cyrus squinted up at her. She was a lot taller and bigger than the last time he’d seen her— big enough that she definitely couldn’t perch on Fort’s shoulder like she used to. “And me too, apparently.”

“Yes, because my hatred runs deep for you.”

“Good,” Cyrus joked, deciding he really was starting to like Ember’s sense of humor. She was definitely tied with Mr. Fitzgerald for that. “You can be added to the list of people who aren’t a fan of me.” 

Fort nudged Cyrus’s shoulder. “I guess I’d be the only one not on the list?”

“You, too. Still counts if you hated me once.”

His friend met his eyes steadily. “I never actually . . . hated you.”

Something in Cyrus’s heart unknotted after hearing the words come from Fort’s mouth. How was that possible, that Fort had never hated him? After everything Cyrus did— even before he’d learned the truth about his family and turned against them, why had Fort thought that? Cyrus couldn’t even begin to understand. His face suddenly felt warm again, and all he could say was, “Oh.” 

“Where are you headed, father?” Ember asked, turning Cyrus’s attention back to her. “Are you taking the Old One to the kitchen to be cooked?”

Not an Old One, anymore, Cyrus wanted to point out, as that was the truth. Although that wouldn't stop her from using that title, when referring to him.

“Ha-ha,” Fort said, giving Ember a look. “No, we’re just going to breakfast. Where we’re both going to eat, and no one’s being cooked into anything.” 

Ember made a hissing sound. “Disappointing.” 

“Just hunt something else!” Fort started up the stairs to the front of the building and waved for Cyrus to follow. “Eat whatever the other dragons eat!”

“But that’s boring, Father! The Timeless One is right here—“ 

“See you at class! Don’t be late!” 

The teenaged dragon sighed. “Yes, yes, whatever! I’ll get there in time. I can fly much faster than you can walk.”

Fort stopped mid-step on the marble staircase. “Uh, thanks?”

Catching up to him, Cyrus patted him on the shoulder. “Kids, huh?”

“We’re kids!” 

“I know. A kid raising a kid.” He chuckled, turning back to watch as Ember flew away. “What a disaster.” 

Fort just sighed in response. They walked the rest of the way to the dining hall, taking the same route they had almost a full twenty-four hours ago, when Cyrus had met with Fort’s friends. Now, the main difference was that he felt a little more welcome here, now that some of the ice had broken. The whole way there, people offered Fort passing hello’s (“You’re like the guest of honor!” Cyrus whispered to him, kind of amazed by just how popular Fort had become). Same as yesterday, the attention seemed to make him more withdrawn than usual— some things never changed. He figured that Fort still wasn’t the greatest at handling lots of attention. 

Before he knew it, they were entering the dining hall, which was already packed with kids and adults alike. Here, there were none of the buffets that he was used to, where he’d grab a tray and wait in the long line to be served something only remotely appetizing. The cool perk about being able to do all magic now was that people could just create food out of thin air, so the same went for here. A pile of empty plates were stacked on a shelf against the wall, which served only one purpose: grab a plate, take it to your table, and put any kind of food you wanted on it— using magic.

His mouth already watering at the idea of toast or eggs or even some muffins, Cyrus reached for two plates on the shelf, one for him and one for Fort. As he handed the other plate over to Fort, they scanned the room for any familiar faces. Cyrus honestly would’ve preferred sitting alone, just him and Fort, but Fort had insisted they should try sitting with Rachel and Jia and Sierra and the rest, so Cyrus just agreed, hoping things wouldn’t be as awkward or uncomfortable as they were yesterday. 

The only person he didn’t seem to have that issue with was Fort, but maybe that was because he was the only person who knew Cyrus— really knew him— and the only one Cyrus was sure no longer held any grudges against him. As for the others, he had no idea how long it’d take before they’d fully warm up to him. A few months? Years? Maybe an eternity? Unfortunately, Cyrus no longer had an eternity. 

Merlin’s death had taught him quite a few things— one of them being just how short life was. Cyrus never had to think about life as a short expanse— it’d always seemed never-ending to him. He could escape time and control it, but now it seemed that it controlled him. Then again, time had never been very kind to Cyrus. It’d cursed him from the very beginning, so wasn’t it still cursing him now? By letting him die when he was old? He shook the thought away. It was a part of being human.

Life is short. He’d heard the phrase maybe a million times, always said by humans. Cyrus used to scoff at the phrase. It didn’t apply to him, so why should he listen? Now he was forced to listen. It was supposed to mean living a life without regrets, but Cyrus had too many regrets to even name at the top of his head. But he was still young, so he still had time to fix things and grow and do things he didn’t regret for once. And so far, Cyrus wasn’t exactly regretting being here, for one reason more than the others. So that was a start. 

“Found them,” Fort announced to his right, jolting Cyrus’s attention away from his thoughts. Sure enough, Rachel and Jia were already seated at a table across the room, looking like they were debating about something. When the boys reached their table, the other two barely seemed to notice their presence, not until Fort dropped his plate a little too loudly onto the hard surface of the table.

“Oh, good, you’re here,” Jia said. “Will you tell Rachel you can’t do this?”

Cyrus looked between them. “Do what?”

Rachel just rolled her eyes, and Jia explained, “She thinks it’s okay to wear shoes inside the house. I told her no, that’s probably the worst thing you could ever do! The only exception is wearing slippers, but that’s it. Will you tell her I’m right?” 

“Hold on!” Rachel said, before Fort or Cyrus could get a word in. “Will you tell Jia there’s nothing wrong with wearing shoes?”

“Oh my god—“

“My shoes don’t even get that dirty!”

Jia laughed humorlessly. “Yeah, okay, said no Destruction student ever.”

Rachel glared at her. “It’s not like I take them up to my bedroom, I just wear them downstairs! My whole family does it!”

“Well my family—“ 

“Okay!” Fort interjected, causing both girls to look at him. “Can you guys shut up?”

“No!” Jia and Rachel said together. 

“But this is pointless!”

Jia rolled her eyes. “No, it’s not.”

“Why are you guys fighting over this?”

“Uh, didn’t you hear a word I said, New Kid?” Rachel asked, irritation seeping into her voice. “It’s definitely impossible not to fight over this. So if you won’t tell me what side you’re on, then—“ She snapped her fingers at Cyrus. “Time Boy. Decide.”  

Feeling all three of their stares on him, Cyrus’s eyes widened. He’d kind of been half-listening, honestly, torn between trying to figure out what he was going to eat before the much bigger disaster of the day. Now he actually took time to consider their argument, and found himself a little more interested in it than Fort, just because he’d never thought of this before. It seemed like such a human debate. 

Did all humans argue about whether or not shoes should be worn inside a house? Whatever hotel or dormitory or cottage Cyrus was sleeping in, he tended to just throw his shoes wherever, sometimes tucked neatly in the doorway or at places like Oppenheimer— buried under his bed so he didn’t trip over them when going to the bathroom in the middle of the night. It’d never seemed that important, to get so worked up about something like shoes when there were plans to be made or his future self to defeat. Maybe he didn’t care because he’d never lived with a real family, or in a real house? 

Having no idea how to respond, Cyrus pointed a thumb at Fort. “In five seconds he’s going to agree with Jia.”

“What?” Fort asked. 

“What?” Rachel demanded. “Are you kidding me, Fort?”

A smile slipped across Jia’s face as she leaned across the table, slapping Fort’s palm with her’s. “I knew you’d make the right choice!”

Rachel stuck her tongue out at Jia. “Wrong choice, you mean.”

Jia chuckled. “Two against one, Ray!” 

“You’re lucky I love you!” 

As they kept talking, Fort just raised an eyebrow at Cyrus. “You used your Time powers?” he whispered, looking surprised. 

Oops. In the spur of the moment, he’d forgotten he’d basically confessed all of his fears last night over doing Time magic again, so he definitely should’ve predicted Fort asking him that. At least back during their Oppenheimer days, he’d always asked way too many questions. Questions that usually, Cyrus knew the answer to, because he could just look into the future and figure it out. Though oftentimes back then, he’d give the answer that he knew would steer Fort towards doing what he wanted, like waking up Sierra and Damian— the first key to getting his family back. 

This wasn’t the first time Cyrus had made up a lie about what might happen in the future. Only difference was he hadn’t used his powers at all— and even if he only did it to get Jia and Rachel’s attention off of him, he suddenly felt a little guilty. What was he doing, lying about Time magic again? He hadn’t done that in forever. But did it count if he’d lied about something as more of a joke? It wasn’t like he’d even used his Time powers, so did it even matter? 

“I didn’t,” Cyrus whispered back. “It was a joke!” With a lopsided smile, he shrugged. “Never sure how good I was at those.” 

Then he made a piece of toast with jam appear on his plate and picked it up, biting into it. Instantly, his mouth was filled with the taste of strawberries and freshly-toasted bread, probably better than any piece of toast he’d ever had. He started eating it, very aware that even as Fort made food appear on his own plate, he was still casting looks at Cyrus. Probably trying to figure out why he had faked using his Time powers.

“Hey!” someone said, and Cyrus glanced up to see Sierra joining them, who plopped down next to Fort. Like the rest of them, she was holding a plate, which she slid onto the table in front of her, making an assortment of breakfast food appear all over it. He glanced around her, expecting to see Damian coming over as well, but he was nowhere to be seen. Huh. 

“Hey,” they all chorused, and while Jia and Rachel turned back to their food, Fort looked at Sierra. Cyrus expected him to say something, but he never did. And even weirder, Sierra was staring back, making faces like they were having a silent, nonverbal conversation. For longer than what seemed normal, they stared at each other, and it occurred to Cyrus that they must’ve been talking in each other’s heads. Oh. He set his half-eaten piece of toast down, his appetite suddenly lost.

“Cyrus,” a voice said, and that was when he realized Rachel was speaking to him. When he looked over, she nodded at Fort and Sierra. “They do that a lot. Asked the magic to return their telepathic connection, or whatever it is.” She rolled her eyes, but the smirk was evident on her face.

“Did they?” Cyrus’s voice sounded funny to him, and he wasn’t sure why. 

“Well, they missed being able to talk to each other in their heads,” Jia supplied, taking a sip of orange juice. “Just like I would’ve missed doing Healing magic if I had lost it forever.”

That made Cyrus think of Time magic, how despite his fears about it, kind of always missed it. He shook the thought out of his head, not even wanting to think about it yet. Or talk about it. He glanced at Fort, who really did seem to be having an entire silent conversation with the girl next to him. He didn’t know why he hadn’t thought they wouldn’t return their telepathic connection. He’d been aware of it, ever since Fort had filled him in on his connection with Sierra. He just didn’t know it was still going on. 

A thought occurred to him, one that was a little discomforting. Sierra could just project herself at any time in Fort’s head, and no one else would see her except Fort. Did that mean she’d ever done that when Fort had gone to visit Cyrus in the past three years? Had he asked her to, in case Cyrus tried anything evil and Fort needed like, a witness? 

Even as he thought it, Cyrus knew it didn’t make any sense. Seeing him turn against his family was proof that Cyrus didn’t follow his family’s beliefs, that he was on Fort’s side, that he was far from the bitter, human-hating boy he’d been before. Still, even if that wasn’t the case, Fort could trust him and still want Sierra there. They were like the moon and the stars, with how close they were. He knew they probably didn’t always talk telepathically like that, because they had to both be busy, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t possible. It wasn’t like Cyrus would’ve been able to hear him talking to her, anyway. 

And then his family members’ voices crept back into his head, sending a chill down his spine. You’re an Old One, remember? How could a human not deceive one of our kind? It’s their only goal! 

Go away! Cyrus thought back. I don’t even know if it’s true.

And it probably wasn’t. 

. . . Maybe. 

Impatiently, Rachel waved her hand in front of Fort and Sierra’s faces, who were laughing over something. “Hello, other people at the table? No private conversations with your boyfriend, please!” 

Cyrus, who’d been attempting to eat another piece of toast, felt it slip out of his hands. Wait, what? He watched as Fort and Sierra quickly looked away from each other, their faces turning red. Sierra leaned over the table to hit Rachel’s arm, more playfully than anything else. “We’ve been over this! He’s not my boyfriend!”  

Fort looked equally uncomfortable. “Yeah, we’re not— can you stop saying that every time we talk to each other in our heads?”  

Rachel just grinned. “Not until you say I’m right!” 

He deadpanned. “You’re not!” 

“Hey, stop teasing them,” Jia told Rachel, and a slow smile spread across her face. “If you do it any more, I’m pretty sure their faces will turn into tomatoes.”

Her girlfriend laughed. “Or apples.”

“Or cherries!”

“Or oranges?” Cyrus offered, hoping he was doing the joke right. Weren’t they just comparing their faces to random types of fruit? Must be one of those weird American things.

“Really, Cyrus?” Fort said, an edge to his voice. 

“Has to be red,” Sierra told Cyrus, just laughing now, despite her clear embarrassment. “You were close, though!”

Cyrus had to agree that now that he knew the context of the joke, their faces did look a lot like the color of the fruits they were suggesting. But why would they be so embarrassed if it wasn’t true? Unless . . . it was? They both seemed so defensive after what Rachel had said. Could it be because she was right? And if they were, why hadn’t Fort said anything to Cyrus? Well, the answer to that was obvious. Until now, they’d barely seen each other since the Utopia school opened. It made sense Fort would just forget to tell him, assuming he even wanted to. Assuming it even mattered. 

Okay, but both he and Sierra had denied it. There was that. But he wondered if Rachel wasn’t too far off. Did Fort fancy Sierra, in the way that Cyrus had picked up on from watching Jia and Rachel, before they’d actually started dating? He’d never understood the point of dating, had never cared enough to look into it closer, because it just didn’t seem to matter when he was twelve. Or thirteen. Or fourteen . . . he guessed until now. The only people he knew were dating were Rachel and Jia, which he was totally okay with. And even stranger, he didn’t feel as okay with the idea of Fort and Sierra being, well, a thing. 

And they weren’t, obviously, so he had no idea why the idea of it even bothered him as much as it did. The whole concept of romance had always seemed so far from Cyrus, so distant, compared to his much greater plans that’d expanded through time. Maybe now that he wasn’t focused on those plans or his game with Merlin anymore, his brain was focusing on other, much more confusing and mundane things. Things he could never begin to understand or be apart of. Or maybe this had always been there, and he was only noticing it now that he was older. 

“Ah.” Cyrus tilted his head thoughtfully, pushing the strange feeling down. “Then like strawberries.” 

“Exactly, yeah!” Rachel met his eyes, giving him a slightly reluctant grin. “Not bad, Cyrus.”

He managed to grin back.

“Speaking of time . . .” Jia started, and Cyrus felt himself tense up even more. “I’ve been meaning to ask— are you ready?” 

“Oh, yeah!” Sierra said. “You’re teaching today, right?” 

Cyrus glanced around at the four of them, trying to tell if they looked serious. They did, though he couldn’t shake the nervous energy that seemed to flood their table at the mention of Cyrus being here. A reminder that Cyrus was once an Old One with full control over Time magic, and that none of them except Fort were fully able to trust him yet. But they were starting to, weren’t they? Him teaching, and therefore helping humans, would strengthen that. 

“Yeah,” Cyrus agreed, trying not to accidentally let it slip out just how not ready he was. But now that he was here with his maybe-future-group-of-friends, around people that made him feel sort of safe (some more than others), he found it easier to brush off the fear. “I’m kind of excited, actually.”

A small hint of surprise flashed across Fort’s face. “You are?”

“‘Course I am!”

“Uh, that’s not what you’ve been telling me.” 

“Ooooh, busted!” Sierra drawled out, making Jia and Rachel chuckle.

Fort was still staring at him, as were the others, waiting for him to respond. Cyrus opened his mouth, grasping for answers, because sometimes, answers really weren’t easy. How could he explain he was excited and terrified at the same time? How could he explain he’d thought of what advice Merlin might give way too many times, and that made him sort of angry and frustrated and comforted all at once? But his opportunity to say something went away, because a hand tapped his shoulder. Eyes widening in surprise, he turned. It was Ellora. 

“Hey, thought I should grab you so we can go over some stuff before you teach,” she said, not sounding too thrilled. Before Cyrus could answer, she added, “It’s time.” 

Dread. 

He identified it shortly after Ellora had spoken to him at the table. Definitely not a feeling he was used to, because why should he be? If he ever looked into the future and saw something he didn’t like, he could just find loopholes, find ways to work around it. Of course, he couldn’t do that anymore. There were no loopholes. Teaching today was unavoidable, and so was dread. The feeling seemed to overtake his entire body as Cyrus followed Ellora out of the cafeteria, despite kind of wanting to stay with his maybe-maybe-not-friends until they all left for their classes. 

On his way out, he found out some things. 1) His first class would start at 9:00 AM, which meant he had exactly an hour until it started. 2) All the classes here started at 9:00 AM, 3) With him being new, he'd start with half the amount of students that Ellora currently had, and 4) To his surprise, he would be only teaching two classes a day, just like all the teachers here did. Very unlike the way Oppenheimer's, or even the Carmarthen school's class schedule had been set up, with a number of back-to-back classes a day. Instead of hour long classes, though, these would be longer. More detailed lectures, lasting up to two or three hours. And afterward, would give students a chance to practice their magic in the classroom. 

Cyrus wasn’t sure how he felt about this. He definitely agreed that he didn’t want to just start teaching in front of hundreds of people like Ellora was, with everything that might happen. It reduced the butterflies, if just a little, to know he wouldn’t be thrown into teaching in front of a big crowd. In case he did teach a huge class one day, this would give him practice, assure him that he could successfully teach a few humans first before teaching several hundred more. 

The idea was still practically unimaginable. An Old One teaching humans. Unheard of! The only humans his family had ever taught were Mordred and Michael, and that’d been for their own personal gains, so they could trick the humans into learning Space magic, and bam! — they could create a portal home. And after, of course, they’d get rid of the human, just to eliminate threats to their own power. Both Mordred and Michael had lost their minds because of it. 

That was another thing that Cyrus couldn’t stop thinking about. If his family had driven their students crazy just from teaching them magic, who was to say Cyrus wouldn’t do the same? Anything could happen from an Old One teaching magic to humans— even a former Old One — so the possibility of turning his class insane wasn’t out of the question. Could he do that accidentally, even if he was trying to help? Maybe. But he reminded himself at least Michael was now in a much better state of mind, last he’d heard. 

Cyrus had heard bits and pieces of the story from Fort, who only knew from what Gabriel told him— which wasn’t much. Ever since the attacks on D.C and Maryland, Colonel Charles had enrolled Michael into therapy, which had slowly been helping him get back to normal. Now that he thought about it, he recalled seeing Michael yesterday in the front lawn, looking elated, without a single ounce of craziness in his eyes. The other Old Ones would look at his recovery as a failure.

Maybe it would be a good idea to check on Michael sometime. Talk to someone else who’d been manipulated and lied to by the Old Ones, who’d once thought of them like family— because sometimes Cyrus felt like he was crazy, too. Maybe it’d sort of help, to talk to someone who understood. Even if just a little. He knew he had Fort to talk to, but did that mean he understood? Cyrus knew he tried to, he really tried, but no one but Cyrus would ever understand the full depth of his backwards life. So maybe he would reach out to Michael. 

Assuming he made it through his first class . . . and his meeting with Ellora. 

They walked out into the hallway, moving away from the entrance of the dining hall until Cyrus could only hear the faded roar of conversation from the other side. Some people passed them down the hallway on the way to breakfast, and his eyes widened as he recognized Sebastian, and then the Chads, who each gave Cyrus looks that fell between surprised and wary— apparently even they knew his real identity as the Timeless One. Sebastian, specifically, looked like he wanted to say something to Cyrus (probably something snarky), but Ellora thankfully started talking to Cyrus before he had the chance. 

“So you noticed how I was teaching only about future vision yesterday?” 

Cyrus forced himself to remain focused on Ellora, ignoring Sebastian’s hard stare as he passed them. “Yeah, I noticed.” 

She nodded. “That’s what I’ve been teaching my students this week, but for next week, I’m going to start teaching them how to create— and get out of— time warps.”

“Time warps!” He grinned. “For newbies, I guess those are a challenge.”

“Trust me, it’ll be take a lot of time for them to learn. That’s what I’m getting at here— have you noticed I’m teaching one aspect of time this week and another next week? That’s because you can’t rush it when you’re teaching it to a class. They have to all have mastered each skill before you move onto the next one. Like, here, look at my schedule for the term.”

She pulled a folded sheet of paper out of her pocket, unfolding it before handing it to Cyrus. His eyes adjusted to the paper in front of him, and he realized he was looking at a calendar, where Ellora had scribbled words into each box. This week — the week of October 10th — had the words “time vision” written in for each of the boxes, not including the weekend, when no classes were being taught. The week after that said “time warps”, and the final week said “freezing time”, with the exception of the 31st, where the name of that scary American pumpkin holiday had been written. 

He flipped it over to November, which was just as filled. Cyrus couldn’t believe how long this would take— spreading out the easiest aspects of time into chunks. Why couldn’t he just teach it all at once? But he couldn’t do that, he reminded himself. As easy as it all sounded to him, who could probably do every single one of these things at the same time, it had to be a lot harder for adults who’d never even touched Time magic before. If it took a week to hone their skills, that was how it had to be. Even if Cyrus preferred to just skim through things. 

He handed the calendar back to her. “And no one’s gotten lost in time?”

The only reason the other kids had been lost in time before was from being exposed to the book of Time magic, but it didn’t hurt for Cyrus to ask. Getting lost in time was more easy than you think, depending on the skills of the person time-traveling. And if these adults weren’t skilled at all? There was probably a chance. 

“Nope, so far,” Ellora told him. “Not that you’ve ever had to deal with that. Only every other Time student at our old school.”

Cyrus coughed, his cheeks flushing. “Yeah, I never actually needed to learn anything from the book of Time magic, being who I am and all. You know how it goes.”

“No, I really don’t. But I’m glad we’re finally on the same page.” She smiled a little, then raised her eyebrows. “Assuming you don’t have some hidden plan I’m not aware of. I can count on you not to send all of our students into any horrible points in time, right?” 

He smiled widely. “Nothing to worry about there. I just hope I’ll be a good enough teacher.” 

Ellora stepped back in surprise. “Are you kidding? You’ve always had the advantage of being the most powerful Time student out of, well, any of us. If anyone knows how time, works, it’s you.” She snorted. “I think you’ll be fine.” 

“I know I know how time works,” he said quickly. “My point wasn’t that. I was an Old One, Ellora. And you trust me to teach time over, say, someone like Simon or William or any of the other UK students? Why aren’t they here?” 

Irritation passed like a cloud across Ellora’s face. “First of all, I would never invite those two to teach here. At least not William. Bleh— could you imagine? If he spoke the way he usually does to a class? He talks like the narrator of a TV fantasy show!” 

Cyrus frowned at the thought of William, who last he’d seen of, had used Spirit magic on him, making him sob and apologize and do all sorts of things he hadn’t wanted to do. And then William had sent him somewhere far away in time, which Cyrus had easily gotten out of, but that didn’t mean he’d been any less angry about it. “I don’t think he liked me very much.”

“Honestly? Not everyone did, after you left for the Oppenheimer school and didn’t help us when we were all lost in time. Made more sense when I found out who you actually were."

He looked down at his shoes, flushing. “I know that. That’s why it makes more sense to ask anyone else to teach Time.” 

She sounded confused. “I already reached out to lots of the other kids. None of them wanted to teach, though. Time had already given most of us enough trouble!” 

Cyrus glanced up at her, brows furrowing. He remembered the woman from France saying something about Ellora being the only Time teacher. “So you’ve been the only one teaching Time magic?” 

Ellora sighed. “It hasn’t been easy. Not like any of the other students from our old school decided to even try helping.” She rolled her eyes, and then her expression shifted into a more curious look. “But you did. Why? Why do you want to teach Time magic— much less help humans learn it? Don’t get me wrong, I’ve heard from Fort all about how different you are, and I see it, I just want to know.” 

“Maybe for a lot of reasons? Or one— or two— I don’t know.” Cyrus sighed. “I don’t even care much to teach, I just . . . want to do something to help. It feels good to be here. And to do something my family would rather hate, y’know?” 

“Yeah,” Ellora said. “Not that I know much about your family as you do, but I’m sure they’d hate you teaching here.”

“They would, wouldn’t they?” Cyrus chuckled, relieved when Ellora did the same. It was like she was warming up to him— like her face was less guarded after what he’d told her. “So I’ll be starting with time vision, then?”

She shrugged. “You can if you want. Whatever you choose, just start small and easy. And I know everything time related’s easy for you, so do what’s easy for them.”

Cyrus wanted to comment how this would not be easy for him at all, but he refrained against it, not too comfortable sharing this with someone other than Fort. 

“Easy for them. Got it.”

The rest of their conversation went by quickly, with Ellora giving him tips on teaching, and answering any of the questions Cyrus had about it. When they were done, Cyrus and Ellora made their way back to the cafeteria, getting back to their friends so they could walk to their classes together. Although really, they were the only ones going in that direction— both Ellora’s and Cyrus’s classrooms were right next to each other upstairs, while he knew Rachel’s and Jia’s were upstairs too, but on the opposite end of the building. And Sierra’s and Fort’s classes were somewhere downstairs. 

Despite being in the complete opposite direction, however, Fort still insisted on walking the whole way with Cyrus to class. Fort claimed he could just create a teleportation circle and enter his classroom as soon as his class started, if he happened to be late. Honestly, Cyrus would’ve preferred sitting in on Fort’s cool dragon class over teaching his own, but that definitely wasn’t an option, so here he was. 

One by one, their little group separated, everyone spreading out in different directions until it was just Cyrus, Fort, and Ellora, making their way up the stairs. They were halfway up, in the middle of discussing what Fort would be teaching that day, when Ellora stopped in the middle of the stairwell. “Oh no.”

Fort, who’d been walking right behind her, nearly slammed right into her. “What?” 

She glanced at the boys, slapping her forehead. “I almost forgot— I borrowed one of Jia’s little golem things—“

“Golem things?” Cyrus repeated.

Ellora sighed, guilt written all across her face. “And I was supposed to give it back to her before her class started. She’s teaching with those today.” 

Fort sounded confused. “Why did you borrow it?”

“No reason! Wanted to test it out.” She moved past them, back down the stairs, pushing through the sea of people trying to get to their class. “I’ll catch up with you guys later!”

She started to run down the hallway, so Fort shouted. “Just teleport to her!” 

“Oh, right! Good idea!” 

Cyrus saw her open a teleportation circle, where he caught the glimpse of a classroom on the other side, where he suspected Jia was teaching. Before he could see any details, though, Ellora stepped through, and the teleportation circle closed behind her. The adults nearby barely gave it a glance, acting like it was something normal that they saw every day. Maybe it was. He’d have to get used to that. 

“Come on,” Fort urged, and Cyrus realized they still hadn’t moved on the stairs. He fell into step beside his friend, and together they climbed the rest of the way, emerging back in the same hallway he’d been in yesterday. It wasn’t hard finding the Time section. All it consisted of was his and Ellora’s classrooms, and the only reason he could tell which one was his was because his name had been magically engrained into the wall, as if it’d been there forever. His breath caught at the sight of it. 

Teacher Cyrus, it said. Cyrus reached out to touch it, his fingers lightly grazing the plaque. It felt so official, seeing his name written like this. Like this made it real— that he belonged here. It still seemed wrong that he should belong here, that his name had been written on the wall like that, as if he was some sort of time-teaching hero. And maybe it was only written there so people would know where his classroom was, but still. It meant something. 

Fort slid up next to him. “So. What do you think?”

Cyrus let out a breath, and noticed it came out more as a laugh. “Just, wow! I’ve never had my name written on anything before. Emrys, maybe. Merlin, definitely. But not the name I go by now.” He looked at Fort. “Not Cyrus.” 

Fort smiled at him. “Better than my plaque saying ‘Teacher Forsythe’.” 

“Oh, your name isn’t bad. It’s your grandfather’s. That seems like an honor!” 

He snorted. “I guess? It’s just my name. Now that I think about it, why did you pick Cyrus as your name?” 

“Well, I decided that because it’s like a variation of my name, Emrys.” Cyrus shrugged. “Kinda was funny to me, how alike they sound. And you still didn’t figure out who I really was for the longest time.” 

With a smile, Fort crossed his arms. “You think I would’ve figured out who you were from your name? I hadn’t even heard the name Emrys til I met, well— future you!” 

Cyrus’s eyes flitted back to the plaque on the wall, and his heart did a little flip inside his chest. “Future me would like it here.” 

“Yeah, he would. I’d vouch for him.” 

He brushed his shoulder against Fort’s, smiling softly. “Thanks, Forty.” 

Fort’s eyebrows shot up in amusement. “Did you just give me a nickname?”

”I . . . I think so! Did I do it right? I’ve never been sure how humans— how people make them.” 

“I mean— it’s usually a shortened version of someone’s name or something. My name is already a nickname.” 

“Then I made a nickname for your nickname.” 

“That just sounds like a number!”

Cyrus chuckled. “It’s the first nickname I’ve ever made, alright? For my first friend, so, no more comments from you!” 

“Okay, but that one sucks.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yeah,” Fort told him with a small laugh. “I’ll get you back with a worse nickname. I don’t usually make up nicknames either — Rachel’s better at making those — but I know I can think of something. Like . . .” Fort trailed off, probably trying to think of ideas, but soon seemed to give up. Or maybe he’d started to think of something else. 

For a few seconds, they were silent, lost in their own thoughts. Cyrus glanced at the watch on his wrist. 8:55 am. Five minutes. Waiting for this would seem like a breeze, shorter than Cyrus had ever waited for anything. And he’d waited for lots of things— too many things. But at the same time, the minutes seemed longer than usual, which he knew was impossible, because it wasn’t like he was slowing down time. He would only be able to do that consciously. Waiting for 9:00 am to hit, though, was like waiting for an alarm clock to go off after you hit it on snooze. It was heavy on his mind, and when the moment hit, everything would change. 

Not wanting to go inside yet, Cyrus sunk to the floor outside the classroom, pulling his knees up to his chest. Fort did the same, and there they stayed. Waiting. He didn’t know why Fort was still here, but it meant a lot he was waiting with him, when he really didn’t have to. After a while of watching people pass them in the hallways, Cyrus took a deep breath and turned back to his best friend. 

“Hey, you know when you said you never hated me earlier? When we were talking to Ember?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Me neither.” 

Fort just stared at him. “Huh?”

His cheeks burned a little. “I never hated you . . . either. I tried to, but I couldn’t. I think it was rather hard when I always kinda thought the opposite.” 

“Me too. About it being hard to hate you.” 

There was some kind of lingering sadness behind Fort’s eyes, a look he hadn’t seen on him in years, since he first saw him in the Faerie Queen’s prison cell. And Cyrus would never admit just how sad he had felt at the time, too, despite really trying not to be. He’d felt a lot of things back then that he’d tried not to feel. And now being able to feel them — not being so torn anymore about what his family would want and what they made him believe was right — it was freeing. He might’ve never been able to talk to Fort like this if the horrifying truths about his family hadn’t been uncovered. 

“Guess Merlin was right about something,” Cyrus said in realization. “I never had it in me.” At Fort’s confused look, he gestured vaguely around him. “To hate humans.” 

“Wasn’t Merlin always right about everything?”

“Whoa— hang on! Not everything.” Cyrus shot him a look; he wouldn’t admit to that. “He may have been on a whole another level, but that old man is still off his rocker!” 

Fort let out a small laugh, and despite his attempts at annoyance, Cyrus couldn’t help laughing too. 

When they finally stopped, Fort turned to him, his hands resting on his knees. “I meant to ask— why did you lie about using Time magic earlier?”

“Oh, that. I knew you were gonna ask. The questions never stop with you, do they?” 

Fort rolled his eyes. “You probably wouldn’t tell me if I didn’t ask them.”

Cyrus nodded. “Okay, maybe that’s true.” He lowered his voice. “I just want everyone to think I’ve been doing Time magic all along, alright?” He shook his head slightly. “They don’t have to know the truth.” 

“So you’re lying about it instead. I thought you weren’t going to do that anymore. “A disapproving look ran across Fort’s face, and Cyrus looked away, not wanting to see his expression. “You’re not at least going to tell Ellora? She might want to know.”

“Fort, she doesn’t have to. I’ll be doing Time magic in a few moments from now, anyway, so there— no hiding!” He dug his fingernails into his knees, finally glancing back at Fort. “Don’t worry about it, okay?” 

"Cyrus, you can't just tell me not to worry." 

"I know. But seriously, you don't have to! No need for any more secrets after I teach and . . . and prove myself." He shook his head, smiling slightly. "I'm not gonna let you down." 

Fort’s eyebrows crinkled. “Why would you be le—“

But his sentence got cut off as a much louder noise echoed through the building, like the sound of a bell being rung. The sound made both of them flinch, and automatically Cyrus’s eyes moved to his watch. 9:00. He looked up, wide-eyed, and saw Fort looking at it too. His friend’s eyes moved back up to meet his, and he took a deep breath, picking himself off the hallway floor and helping Cyrus do the same. “I have to go.” 

A line of adults were walking into Cyrus’s classroom now, not paying him much attention, which made sense. They didn’t even know who he was yet. Cyrus watched them, feeling like rocks were weighing down his stomach. When he said the words, they were too quiet, barely loud enough for Fort to hear. “Okay. Yeah, you should. You’re already late.” 

“You’re gonna be okay?”

“Of course!” He hid his worry with a small, nervous smile. “You know who you’re talking to, right?”

“Yep.” Fort smiled back, just as nervous. Cyrus looked from Fort to the doorway, wanting to say more, wanting to delay going inside, but the bell had stopped ringing. And across the hall, he spotted Ellora rushing into her own classroom, followed by a long line of students who’d been waiting since Fort and Cyrus had gotten there. He was out of time. If he didn’t go now, he’d be late to his own class— which probably wasn’t the first impression he should be making! 

Even worse would be if his students found out he was once an Old One or something, so there was even more need for a good impression. Luckily, Cyrus was good at acting. The dazed act he’d kept up with at Oppenheimer had certainly helped charm humans at the time, and he was sure that would always work, too. But acting mostly went with lying, and Cyrus was trying to act as authentic as possible, now. To move past the lying and the deceiving. It didn’t mean he was going to announce to everyone that he was an Old One — that wouldn’t be a good idea— but he wouldn’t hide his true self, either. 

Cyrus saw Fort open a teleportation circle, leading right to his classroom downstairs, so he moved to step through the door, thinking it’d be easier to pass through when Fort did. And then a hand touched his shoulder, and Cyrus’s heart flipped as Fort leaned in. “Hey, tell me if you hear those voices again, okay?”

Cyrus turned to look at him, nodding. Even if he wasn’t sure he’d tell Fort at all if that were the case— he wouldn’t want to worry him. Fort said nothing else, just squeezed his shoulder once before letting it go. It was weird how Cyrus almost didn't want him to let go, almost stopped him from doing it. Instead, he watched as Fort hopped inside the teleportation circle, and Cyrus’s shoulder suddenly felt very empty. And then from the other side of it, Fort glanced back and waved to him. “Bye, good luck!” 

That was such a human thing, to wish someone luck. A thing his family members would scoff at, but Cyrus soaked in the words, comforted by knowing that someone believed in him. That Fort believed in him. And he thought— he could get used to this. Easily. He waved back. “Yeah, bye!” 

The glowing green teleportation circle closed behind Fort, leaving Cyrus fresh out of options— and delays. Straightening his shoulders, he faced the door again, forcing his hand to turn the knob, swinging it open. Maybe it was from listening to too many 1970’s British rock singers like the Beatles and Queen and David Bowie on his travels, but Cyrus felt a lot like he was about to step on stage or something. In a way, he was. Only, the rock music was only playing out in his head, a tune that ranged between slightly, mildly, and extremely ominous. 

He brushed it off, telling himself he was overreacting. Definitely had to be overreacting, because so what if it’d been a while since he’d used Time magic? He would be okay. He was still cursed by time, so it wasn't like it could curse him a second time. And all his stuff with his family was far in the past. His lifelong plans to help the other Old Ones take over the world were long gone, and now he’d taken on a new one— giving back to humanity. And even if he didn’t deserve it, even if he might never see himself the way his only friend saw him, he needed to try his best. So, remembering Fort’s words from last night, Cyrus pushed his legs forward. 

Later, he would wish he’d never gone inside. 

“Every voice in my head shouted yes and no / Every freight train of thought fought to stop and go / Keep the pace just in case all the magic dies."

Chapter Text

Home (by Cavetown) 

“Get a load of this monster / He doesn't know how to communicate / His mind is in a different place.”

Being the Timeless One required many things. Manipulation. Preparedness. Foresight. These were skills Cyrus definitely had not lost, even though he’d lost his title, in the metaphorical sense. But being a teacher? That required a set of very different requirements, and as Cyrus walked into the room, he was sure he met absolutely none of them. Phrases like “Old One” and “teaching humans” were as incompatible as oil and water. They just didn’t mix well together. And maybe they still wouldn’t, unless Cyrus miraculously proved himself— and the entire course of Old One history— wrong. 

Now this, he thought, would be a moment written in history books. A moment he just might not be ashamed of, because it’d have everything to do with Cyrus helping humans, and nothing to do with helping his family. Despite his nervousness, a wave of excitement went through him. He could almost see the headline now. Teacher Cyrus, an Old One who’d rebelled against his family, successfully taught hundreds of humans the ways of Time magic! Surprisingly, with no complications! His friend and fellow teacher at the school, Forsythe Fitzgerald, was right— he had it in him all along to be good! 

Of course, there’d be a picture of Cyrus there, probably a few years older, surrounded by all his students. Fort would be standing there behind the camera, obviously, and Cyrus would gleefully soak in the pride on his face. And Damian could take back what he’d said about Cyrus being here just to manipulate humans. Preferably, his apology would be written down as a quote in the history book— not that Cyrus needed an apology, but it would be nice. (Assuming Damian would ever give one, given, well, his entire history). 

Although so far, he just needed to get through his first class. Ellora had been right about the size of it being small— much smaller compared to her’s. He counted close to thirty people in the room altogether, each of them taking up seats in a lecture hall much like the one he’d been in yesterday for Ellora’s class. Some of them seemed to only be a couple of years older than him, while others were middle-aged or even older. None as old as Merlin, and none who looked like Merlin, which was a relief. 

Cyrus wouldn’t want to teach if a past version of Merlin had somehow snuck into his class. That would be embarrassing. Thankfully, no version of his future self seemed to be sitting in the room, which kind of disappointed him as much as it relieved him. He focused on the relief. His future self had tried to mess up everything for Cyrus, and he meant everything. Who was to say he wouldn’t mess up this for Cyrus, too? Granted, Merlin had only tried to mess up Cyrus’s plans to save his family, and he’d always messed up everything in their little game across time. 

But he knew better. Merlin wouldn’t interfere with him teaching, because that was something he would encourage instead of try to stop. But even though it was most likely what Merlin wanted, Cyrus almost couldn’t imagine it. Merlin had never been supportive. Relentlessly stubborn? Check. Talking in riddles? Check. Aggravating and nosy? Check and check. He’d always said Cyrus had a lot to learn, had a lot of growing up to do. In Merlin’s eyes, Cyrus was always too obsessive, too desperate, too ambitious. 

Not once in his life had they ever agreed on something, but he had a feeling that this was the first time they would. 

Reminding himself to smile, Cyrus looked around. What was the proper greeting that a teacher gave to their students? He wasn’t entirely sure if there was something specific, so he settled on “Good morning!”

A chorus of good mornings followed his greeting. He must’ve done something right, because the class was looking at him expectantly, smiles on some of their faces. Clearly, there was no question that Cyrus was their teacher. He must’ve seemed more teacher-like than he’d thought. Inside his chest, his heart pounded a little softer, his chest feeling looser than it had mere seconds ago. So far, so good. Receiving some smiles was a good sign. 

“Hello! My name’s Cyrus. And before we start, I’d like to say using Time magic may have some . . . effects, on you all.” That was a good way to start, he decided. “It’s the only magic that alters a person’s appearance from the outside. A consequence of messing with time, if you’ve been exposed to too many paradoxes like I have. So, ah, your hair might look like mine by the end of the term. Turns silver.” He breathed out a chuckle, deciding not to mention he didn’t even know what color it’d been before he’d been cursed by time. That he’d been born with it that way. 

Someone raised their hand— a girl sitting in the front, maybe only a year or two older than Cyrus. Receiving a wave from Cyrus, she spoke up. “Can’t you just dye your hair back to normal?”

Cyrus thought for a moment, then asked the magic to make a stool appear right in front of him, which he sat down on. It felt easier then standing and pacing around the room like he’d watched Ellora do yesterday. More casual. Letting his legs dangle over the side, he looked up at the girl. “Um, sorry?”  

Her question didn’t make sense, and he realized “dying” must’ve been a human phrase. Or wait, it was something else. Had to be something else. Yes, now he remembered. It was something he’d never done before, but he’d heard it being talked about at the schools here and there. Mostly by some of the UK students— the ones who hadn’t been as accepting of their new silvery color. 

While Cyrus had been used to it from the start of his life, some of the students who’d never been exposed to paradoxes before had started to panic when their hair abruptly changed color. Changing your hair back to its original color was a possibility, of course— with hair dye— but it would just grow back white anyway. Every Time student had already embraced that by now. Well, by now he wasn’t sure about all the other Time students, but Cyrus could vouch for him and Ellora. At least they didn’t care about what color their hair was. 

“Can’t you dye it?” the girl pressed. “If it turns white? And by the way, my friend has been taking Time classes for months and his hair hasn’t turned white. Are you sure that happens?” 

Cyrus blinked in surprise. What? In what universe would that not happen? But then his mind went back to yesterday, to the class he’d observed being taught by Ellora. Aside from the adults who clearly, well, had let their hair turn white naturally (because apparently that was when normal hair did when you aged), no one else in the room had had silver hair. Not a single person. He worked through his disbelief, through every sign that proved maybe Time magic was different after the all-magic had been restored to the world. 

Time magic had changed. A strange mix of both awe and uncertainty rose inside him. The whole thing sort of baffled him. Him, who knew Time magic inside and out. But also, some of it made sense. Magic was no longer made up of chaos, was no longer fighting back— it was free. If one part of Time magic had changed, it was possible that other factors of it were different, too. Did that mean other forms of magic had changed— from Destruction to Summoning to Healing? They must’ve. Magic wasn’t weak anymore, after it’d finally been released back into the world, no longer being restricted or controlled in some way. 

Finally, Cyrus shrugged, knowing he probably had a strange expression on his face. “Well, I thought so, but that explains a few things. Time magic must be different now.” 

Time magic must be different now. The words bounced around in his head. He guessed he’d see, soon enough, just how different. 

“So, which is it? Our hair won’t turn silver?” someone else asked from the back of the room, a middle-aged man. 

“Nope!” And then he blushed, seeing for the first time that the man’s hair was graying. Gently, he added, “. . . Other than when it happens naturally. I guess you know how it goes.” 

There were a few scattered laughs, including the man, and Cyrus found himself grinning, even if he couldn’t tell he was being funny. Hey, this wasn’t turning out so bad! Actually, as uncertain as he was, it was slowly feeling more and more like a good choice to agree being a teacher. Of course, he hadn’t taught any actual Time magic yet, so he’d have to keep his opinions about teaching relatively open until that happened. 

The laughter had faded. Cyrus took a deep breath. “First things first. Let’s start with the easiest type of Time magic!” He was about to go right into it, until he remembered something Ellora had done yesterday. How she’d asked questions she’d obviously known the answer to, just to keep her students engaged. Oh. He swept his gaze across the students. “Can anyone tell me what that is?” 

He thought someone would’ve raised their hand right off the bat, but everyone just glanced around at each other, staying silent. Long enough for Cyrus to realize none of them knew the answer. They must’ve not known much about Time magic, which he found interesting. That should be an easy guess. Time only had so many properties, and the first thing the students at the Carmarthen school had learned was foresight. It was definitely one of the most helpful abilities, especially when you were helping your best friend break rules without getting caught. 

“Seeing the future,” Cyrus answered for them. “And what we see always comes true. Unless you change it, of course, and the future’s always changing. That’s one of the tough parts about this magic. To properly see into the future, you need a specific time and place figured out. Or else, you could get lost or stuck somewhere in time.” 

Not that its ever happened to me, because I’m the Timeless One, Cyrus thought. 

The only exception had been when William sent him away under the influence of Spirit magic, and as powerful as he was, not even Cyrus had been able to free himself from it so easily. He could easily overpower Time magic, sure, but Spirit magic was an entirely different story. Luckily, once he’d arrived in the future, getting unstuck from time was easy. It definitely helped once Fort had taken William’s magic away, breaking away any influence that Spirit magic had put on him. 

At the shocked expressions in the room, Cyrus quickly added, “But that isn’t the issue today, and if you do it correctly, it can be the most helpful magic out there. You can know ahead of time what’s about to happen, or see thousands of possibilities that could happen, so you can make different choices. Choose your own reality.” 

Someone else raised their hand. “Um, I heard that the further into the future you look, the less accurate it gets? Has that happened to you?” 

Well, yeah. It’d always been that way for Time students, and it was especially that way whenever the books of magic were around. Those things never failed to throw his visions out of whack. Usually, Cyrus had always been able to see as far as he wanted, but of course that didn’t mean there weren’t plenty of inaccuracies. Really, there were a lot. Mainly when Fort was included in those visions, becoming harder to predict his actions over time. And it didn’t help that Fort had Sierra use her mind magic on Cyrus that one time either, throwing his visions entirely off-guard. 

Other then, well, all of that, nearly everything had been pretty accurate, up until the point where Cyrus had gotten taken by the Faerie Queen. Every event after that was entirely unexpected— not something he’d seen at all in his future visions. For a while, the only reason his plan had been going so well was because he’d looked into his own personal future constantly, checking just how accurate the events of his family returning would be. While other aspects had changed, the most accurate part was than Damian would be the one to bring them back. No matter how far Cyrus looked into the future, Damian’s involvement had always been obvious. 

“It can happen, yes,” Cyrus said, deciding it probably wasn’t a good idea to get too much into it with his personal experiences— if he did, they’d definitely think he was crazy. “Mainly when the books of magic were around— I’m sure you’ve heard about them?” 

He searched their faces, taking in the nods of recognition that swept around the room. “Yeah, they always muddled up my visions. Made everything too fuzzy to comprehend. So that made my visions less accurate, but otherwise, I’m fairly sure accuracy depends on how advanced you are at Time magic.” He shrugged. “But don’t worry about that just yet, because we’re going to start easy. For now I’m going to teach you to look a few hours into the future.”

An excited murmur passed through the room, even the oldest adults seeming to like the idea. It sent a weird thrill through Cyrus. Most people didn’t find looking into the future all that exciting— at least in Fort’s case, it was more helpful (for sneaking around the school, finding out what safer choices to make, etc) than exciting. Then again, future outcomes scared most people. It’d always just made Cyrus more sure of things, more able to prepare for anything that came his way, because the unexpected became the expected. 

But these people were actually looking forward to learning about the future, which Cyrus guessed made sense, since they were all here for a class that specialized in it. Still, to see a class full of humans get excited about something he was teaching made this whole thing feel more worth it. Earlier this week, one thought had been on repeat: that he wouldn’t be teaching material, not as an Old One. But everyone here actually seemed to be learning, so far, and better yet— they were enjoying his class. Because of that, it eased the knots in his stomach, making him feel better than he had all day. 

Like a parting river, Cyrus steered his thoughts back to the lesson. Maybe he should’ve said he’d teach them to look a few minutes into the future. Or a few seconds? Would that be easier for an entire class full of adults who’d never even touched Time magic before? Too late, he decided. A few hours ahead— even a day ahead— was easy enough for beginners. He assumed it would be, anyway. Ellora had seemed confident that starting with foresight would be fine. It wasn’t like he was exactly looking forward to jumping into his old magic again, so looking into the near future was probably better for him, too. Until he got used to it again. 

So, he told the class he was going to demonstrate, going through the steps as he went along. The way Ellora had described future vision had been fluid, easy. Like it was something she could recite in her sleep. It was a little trickier for Cyrus. How did you describe something you’d done since birth? Something that was as effortless as breathing? Really, it was like describing how to breathe, or how to walk. Hard to explain at first, but done best through demonstration. When he was finally done explaining things, the realization sunk in that it was time to use his powers. 

Powers he hadn’t used since the battle in D.C. 

A small shiver went down Cyrus’s spine. There was no backing out of it now— in all the time he’d been alive, there was never any backing out of it for him. Not when it involved something so incredibly important. He’d already made it this far, so he knew that he had to go through with it. If not for him, then maybe for Fort— the only person in the world who believed in him, which amazed Cyrus, who felt he was unworthy of all that support, after the things he’d done in the past. But regardless, he wasn’t letting his friend down. Not anymore.

For the first time in almost four years, Cyrus turned his vision to the future. He picked the time and place close by, so it should give him a clear vision. Two hours away, around noon. And then for a place . . . he decided the dining hall would probably be his best bet. He’d probably see himself sitting at the table, eating lunch with Fort and his friends. Completely harmless. 

And maybe he’d see himself telling them about his success teaching his first class, and his former friends would laugh with him the way they used to. No signs of reverting to his old self, or living backwards again, or turning back to his family’s side. The future had to have something good in store for him, right? After all this time, even if it wasn’t what he deserved? Cyrus held onto that. 

And then a realization struck him, one that Cyrus couldn’t tell was better or worse: his heart was racing, but not from nerves. Not anymore. No, it was excitement. Excited to have that power back, but not in the way he might’ve once been. He’d missed this. There was something so fun, so reassuring about doing something he used to practice daily, and now that he was actually using his original magic again, it felt a lot like getting on a bike after a long time of not riding one. It was all muscle memory. Muscle memory he hoped wouldn’t turn around and curse him. 

Next came the part he’d been anticipating. Black started to swarm into the edges of his vision, and it striked Cyrus just how familiar it felt. Every type of magic glowed a different color when you used it— red was Destruction, blue was Healing, green was Summoning, etc. And for as long as Cyrus could remember, Time magic had always glowed black. There wasn’t a reason for it. After all, was there ever a reason for magic to be one thing or the other? If magic wanted to be a certain color, it would be. Even when someone tried to control it, apparently it’d find a way to do what it wanted.

So, magic chose colors. And magic sort of chose people, too. Well, until now, when both people and magic were free to choose each other, no matter what age you were or what type of magic was involved. Not much surprised Cyrus, and even after magic had been restored, he wasn’t very surprised to see the color black. Okay, maybe a little. Since this was the old magic, he’d half-expected there to be no more colors. No more black. 

But despite the differences he’d heard about Time magic since then and now, that was one thing that hadn’t changed. Cyrus just wasn’t sure if he liked it yet— how seeing that color again made him feel. It didn’t just remind him of time— it reminded him of a lot more. Merlin. His family. His past, much more bitter self. Most of all, every moment he’d practiced magic in the past. Made up of good intentions for wrong reasons, reasons Cyrus used to think were right. Through manipulating his friends, to fighting them on that barren landscape, to using it to search for his family through time. 

Starting now, he wanted to use Time magic for things that made him feel good inside. Cyrus had already decided that a long time ago. He wanted black to give him that same feeling of warmth. Not reflections of his past self, but of the future. Of who he could be, when now, he felt more of a stranger to himself than ever. To Cyrus, there’d always been an importance in colors. Black was just the one that’d always stuck with him. 

And then, just before he looked into the future, a memory chased him down. 

They were sitting at lunch together, a few weeks into their stay at the second Oppenheimer school, when Cyrus asked him the question. It’d come out of nowhere, this urge to know more about Fort. To ask him things. Questions, which probably were a little odd and misplaced, but Fort never seemed to mind. Not as much as the other kids did, who usually laughed at him when he asked them things out of the blue. Or paled, because they thought Cyrus was about to throw them a prophecy they didn’t want to hear. Even Jia and Rachel— as much as they liked him— sometimes thought the questions were random. 

If Fort thought so too, he didn’t mention it. Maybe that was one of the reasons Cyrus liked him the most, out of everyone else here at Oppenheimer. And these past few weeks, it felt like things were different. Like they were just two twelve-year-old kids on their way to learning magic and uncovering secrets of the school. Not an Old One and a human. The distinction was getting harder to remember sometimes. He was starting to forget just how wrong it was to be friends with a human. How wrong it was to even enjoy being around a human. 

But Fort wasn’t like the humans who’d tried to take magic for themselves, tried to kill his family. Because he was one of the good ones. A part of Cyrus wondered if his family would agree, if they ever met Fort. But then, with their deep hatred for humans, he didn’t really want them to meet Fort. Not that they’d do much other than making him a servant, but Cyrus wanted more for his friend— something more that he couldn’t pinpoint. It became a balance, of wanting to protect Fort as much as he wanted to protect his family, not wanting either to get hurt. The ultimate contradiction. 

The problem was— it was really only one or the other. Maybe in the back of his mind, though, he knew he’d never have either.

Cyrus ran his hand across the edge of his food tray, doing this a few times before he spoke to the boy next to him. “Do you ever think about colors?”

Placing down the cup of water he’d been drinking, Fort shifted his gaze to Cyrus. “Colors?”

“Yeah.” One look into the future at Fort’s reply, and Cyrus added, “What do I mean, you’re thinking? Well—“

“Cyrus.”

Cyrus grinned. “What?”

“You could’ve just let me say . . .“ Fort shook his head, trailing off. “Never-mind. So, fine, what do you mean?”

“What’s your favorite?”

“Oh. I don’t know. Never really thought about it, I guess.”

Cyrus laughed through his nose. “Well now that you are, what do you think it is?”

Fort didn’t seem to want to be in this conversation, and from a quick look at possible timelines in the future, Cyrus didn’t see it very realistic that Fort would actually respond. Not honestly, anyway. But then he surprised him. He tilted his head, the ever-present crease in his brows fading slightly. “Uh, this isn’t specific, but maybe the color of this Gettysburg Address brochure I have. It’s the last thing my dad gave me, before he . . . you know.” 

Cyrus’s heart twisted with sympathy. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from Fort. “He would like that.”

“That I carry it?”

“Yeah! You still have it, right?”

Slowly, Fort nodded. He reached into his pocket, slowly pulling out a brochure that looked like it’d seen better days. It was folded up into little squares, just small enough to fit inside his pocket. He carefully unfolded it, flattening it out, which did barely anything to wipe away the deep creases in the paper. Cyrus peered closer. He’d seen glimpses of the brochure whenever he checked up on Fort’s future (almost everyday), but never had he seen it in person. The speech was written out in multiple languages, but that wasn’t what he focused on. 

Strokes of oranges and blues and greens filled the pamphlet, faded enough that it didn’t block out the words, but it was still noticeable. Cyrus stared at the creases all over it, stared at the way Fort held it tightly in both hands, as if he’d never let go. He’d heard of instances where humans held onto things all the time— special objects that made that feel safer, like a necklace, or a lucky pin, or in Fort’s case, a brochure of the Gettysburg Address. Cyrus had always thought it somewhere between silly and fascinating that humans thoughts objects would give them a sense of security. Until now. That brochure clearly meant the world to Fort, if it’d been given to him by his dad. 

If Cyrus had anything his family had given him, he wondered if he would’ve carried it everywhere with him, too. Maybe he would’ve. But during the moments he had been able to go back in time and see his family, they’d never given him anything like that. Probably because it was a human thing to carry stuff around, thinking it made them feel better. Cyrus guessed he sort of had something like that— the mystery books he and Fort had discovered just last week, which he’d been excitedly pouring over every chance he got. Except he didn’t carry them with him— he just left them under his bed when he wasn’t using them, so that didn’t count. 

Once Cyrus got a good look at it, Fort folded the brochure back up until it was back to a little square, stuffing it back in his pocket. “This might sound weird, but I carry it around everywhere with me. Helps me feel, I don’t know . . . closer to him.” He sighed, staring hard at the table. “Remember how we found out Dr. Opps thinks he might still be alive?”

Cyrus nodded. “Yeah, of course I do,” he said, a little uneasy. He knitted his brows. “You’re not still thinking of going after him, are you? Fort, when you asked me to look into your future last night, I saw—“

“I know.” Annoyance seeped into Fort’s voice. “You saw that if I brought anyone with me, I’d lose them forever.” He cringed. “You had a long list of what might happen to our friends.”

“And I told you what would happen if you go alone, right? I saw multiple futures where if you do or don’t manage to rescue your father, you won’t make it back.”

“I know that too,” Fort said, almost too quickly. “So unless that changes, you don’t have to worry. I’m not going.” 

“I wish there was a safer way to find your dad, too, Fort. But until then, it’s too dangerous.”

“I know it is.” He sighed, not meeting Cyrus’s eyes. “Even if I could go after him without risking anything, I don’t even know where to look. He’s in the Old One’s dimension, and from there . . . I don’t know. I don’t even know for sure if he’s okay. It’s starting to feel kind of pointless.” 

Cyrus wished he could tell him he understood, wish he could express just how much he understood, just how much that same loneliness ate him up inside. But Fort wasn’t supposed to find his father. Not here, and certainly not now. It just wasn’t an option— it wasn’t even in Cyrus’s well-designed plan, mapped out for centuries. All he knew was that Fort’s dad had been taken by a creature— a Dracsi, and most likely, had been turned into a Dracsi himself. Any chances of changing him back, let alone surviving the Dracsi dimension, were slim to none. And rare that Fort or his father would actually come back alive. 

Cyrus knew all this. He did. But he couldn’t tell Fort this. If he said Fort wouldn’t be able to rescue his dad, his friend would never forgive him, and for some reason that pained Cyrus more than anything. And he knew that he’d never want to be told he’d never get his family back. That was maybe the worst thing Cyrus could hear. So instead, he told Fort something different. Maybe it was him being too soft. Or maybe he was getting too wrapped into their relationship, but he wanted to assure Fort in a way that Cyrus himself had never been assured. Give him hope, because no matter what, Cyrus couldn’t stand to see him like this. 

Keeping his voice low, he leaned closer to his friend. “See, that’s where you’re wrong. You don’t know what might happen in the future. There are a million possibilities out there, you know? Tomorrow, maybe you’ll unknowingly do something that’ll lead to you finding your father.” 

He had no idea what he was doing, giving Fort false hope when he knew he shouldn’t. His family would scream at him for making a human feel better— heck, the voice in Cyrus’s head was screaming at him. But it came tumbling out anyway. And suddenly — maybe in a burst of weakness — he found himself wanting to find a way for Fort’s father to come back safely, just to see the boy next to him happy. He’d never seen a version of Fort that was truly happy. That was something Cyrus wanted almost as much as his family returning.

Strangely, Fort stiffened. Like there was something he was hiding from Cyrus, but it also could’ve been from the mention of finding his dad. He always got tense when they talked about his father. 

“Can you see that?” he asked finally. “Will I do anything that’ll help me find my dad?” 

“I don’t know yet,” Cyrus said quietly, and winced as Fort’s expression dropped, turning back to his untouched food. “But, I do know that you’ve accomplished an awful lot of things just to work towards your goals. It’s just like when you learned those Healing spells in the first few days you got here. No matter how impossible it seemed to learn it that fast, you didn’t take no for an answer! So how are things any different this time? You didn’t give up then. So you can’t give up now.” He shook his head slightly. “If I were you, I wouldn’t let myself give up, either.” 

This is me, he thought. The real me.

Fort looked at him then, his expression unreadable. Maybe he was confused. He didn’t understand, yet, how alike the both of them were. How Cyrus had repeated those very words to himself almost every night, vowing to remember his promise to his family. He watched as a light came back into Fort’s eyes, something in his demeanor changing. “Thanks, Cyrus. A lot.”

Cyrus reached out and patted Fort’s shoulder. “Glad I could help.” A lopsided smile grew on his face. “You spend too much time lost in that head of yours.”

Fort’s eyebrows shot up. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“It means exactly what I said.” He shrugged. “Just keep that in mind, okay? The future can always be changed. There’s still time to make it a good one!"

Fort let out a small, humorless laugh.  “Yeah, how could I make anything good out of this?” He gestured vaguely around him.

“Like I said, Fort—“ Cyrus tapped his temple twice with his finger. “Always lost in your own head.”

“And that’s a bad thing?” 

Cyrus only shook his head in response. “No, definitely not. Everyone gets lost in their heads at some point. Even me!” He smiled automatically. “I’m just saying, you can’t let it keep you from the future you want.”

He’d gone too far. He’d definitely gone too far. When Fort had approached him with the possibility of going to rescue his father, Cyrus had practically told him every way the plan would fail. Either Jia or Rachel would be left behind, or Fort himself would get hurt— maybe stuck there in the Dracsi dimension forever. He was sure, now, that Fort just wouldn’t go looking for his dad, not with all the warnings Cyrus had given him. And here he was, doing his best to make Fort believe someday he might have his father back. Because it hurt to watch a human suffer.

Cyrus tried to be more disgusted with himself. It wasn’t working. Whenever it came to Fort, Rachel, and Jia, it was getting harder and harder to feel that same contempt his family felt for all humans. The damage was already done, because as much as he needed to push them towards his plan, he also needed them for reasons he couldn’t put into words. They were his friends— at least they were while he was staying here at Oppenheimer, and Cyrus wanted to hold onto that as long as it lasted. As long as he could.

Some irrational, selfish part of him believed that when his family returned, he could stay friends with them all. Fort would do anything to bring his dad home, so wouldn’t they understand Cyrus doing the same? It just made sense. Even if Rachel and Jia hadn’t lost their own families personally, that didn’t mean they wouldn’t be sympathetic to Cyrus’s situation, just as they were to Fort’s. They hated the Old Ones, yes, but Cyrus would make them see just how good his family was. He would. He wanted them all to be apart of his universe— both his friends and his family. Maybe he wanted too much. 

And if he could get Fort to understand, maybe he could keep them together. They were so alike, with everything they were going through, and that was the reason Cyrus had so much trouble feeling hatred towards him. They were unable to slow down, the two of them. A shared ambition to have their family back, one that maybe Fort could never have, but Cyrus refused to allow the same outcome for himself. So he stuck to his plans. It was the only thing in his life that fully made sense. 

Then, he realized Fort was smiling at him— a sight that Cyrus almost rarely got to see, and all regrets of saying those words faded away. His heart fluttered, but it wasn’t the same as before. It was a good feeling. Returning the smile, Cyrus stared at him for a moment longer before digging his fork back into his food, going back to eating like their conversation hadn’t even happened. But it had. It had, and every once in a while, Cyrus would replay it all over again in his head for the years to come. Over and over, like a record player stuck on repeat, as his memories of his best friend often played.  

He spared a glance around the room, squinting under the bright fluorescent lights, which were maybe the closest thing to natural sunlight that the underground school had. More and more students were entering the cafeteria now— mostly Healing students. It was easy to figure out which ones had had dissecting classes before lunch. And just as he’d thought, some were, as usual, looking a little green. Which Cyrus thought was ironic, given how their uniforms already were green. 

“What about you?” Fort asked suddenly, breaking through his thoughts. “What’s your favorite color?”

The question surprised him, and not just because it was coming from Fort. No one had ever asked him that. What was his favorite? Was it weird for Old Ones to have favorites? Too human? Cyrus started to think of an answer, but it was then that Rachel and Jia arrived. Exactly the way he saw they would. Ten minutes later than lunch started, both with trays of food in their hands. They sat down in the seats across from the boys, metal chairs squeaking against the floor, and their conversation shifted to other topics. But all the while, Fort’s question rang through his mind. 

And for the rest of lunch, he thought about colors. 

Cyrus wasn’t sure he’d ever had a favorite color. It’d been many. Before Atlantis, it was the color of his Timeless One cloak— wearing it had always made him feel closer to his family, made it easy to act like them, too. It was the color of deserted lands in the future, the entire universe painted like rust and flooded by blood red skies. It was the color of black crystal palaces and magenta smoke. Or it was black. Black eyes and black, glowing hands. Him, his magic, and his family. Always. That’s what the colors represented. 

And whether he’d wanted it to happen or not, his favorites had changed. Now it was the color of Fort’s uniform the first day they’d met, that same puke green color that everyone thought was ugly, but Cyrus thought wasn’t half bad. It was the color of the sun as it dipped over the Utopia school, disappearing into the horizon with an array of pinks and purples. It was the color of moonlight as it pushed through the window of his and Fort’s new dormitory, illuminating them as they shared secrets and laughs.

But the only color he saw now was one that’d stuck with him forever. The only thing that remained consistent in Cyrus’s life— at least, the parts of his life that Cyrus could remember, before whoever he’d been at Atlantis. As if from a distance, he saw his eyes reflecting back at him. Completely dark, like all the light had been sucked out of them. And just like that, the scene shifted, replaced by the same dining hall he’d been in just an hour ago. 

Except there were some noticeable differences. While it’d been only about half-full this morning, it was now packed with both adults and kids. And unlike at the Oppenheimer school, the adults weren’t all dressed as military soldiers, silently standing off in lines by the wall, watching the kids’ every move, traces of fear or unease along their faces. Here, tables were mixed with people of varying ages. The first familiar faces he spotted were Dr. Ambrose and Jia, talking as they walked into the dining hall. From the looks of it, they were a little late to lunch. 

Cyrus stared at them in wonder; of all the adults to be here from the Oppenheimer school, Dr. Ambrose did seem the most likely to actually come visit. Or if he was being honest, Dr. Opps (Cyrus made a mental note to ask if he’d ever visited later). It probably depended on how the kids teaching here felt about the adults, too— and probably had some say about whether they could come visit or not. Certainly not Colonel Charles, even if his kids were allowed here. Cyrus had never liked that guy very much, anyway, even if some of his actions had been necessary to push Cyrus’s plan in the right direction. 

Still, it came as a surprise to see Dr. Ambrose here. He hadn’t really expected it. Was she here to learn Healing magic? She must’ve been. Maybe she was taking Jia’s class, trying to learn the ways of Healing magic so she could improve as a doctor. Or maybe she was just visiting Jia, who’d been her favorite student in her class aside from Sebastian. Either way, they seemed to be talking animatedly about something Cyrus couldn’t hear, given how the rest of the chatter drowned out whatever they were saying. 

He was still watching the two when Jia happened to look over — right in Cyrus’s direction — and waved. Smiling at her, he almost waved back, only for the realization to hit that she couldn’t actually see him, so she had to be waving to someone else. He was about to turn and see who she was waving to, but just as he did, a cold chill passed through Cyrus. Someone walked straight through him, going through his ghostlike, translucent body. Even though that must’ve happened to him a million times, Cyrus could never help but shudder.

Getting walked through just never felt good. 

“I’ll save you a seat, Gee!” the person who’d walked through him called, and as they appeared on the other side on Cyrus, he recognized the person as Rachel. Judging from the empty plate she was holding, she’d made it to lunch pretty recently, too. She was making a beeline for a table near the back, so Cyrus quickly followed her, trying to avoid running into people. Even if it didn’t matter whether he ran into them or not, he didn’t want a repeat of the Rachel-walking-through-him thing.

When they reached the table, he found that it was already filled with people he knew. Sierra and Michael for one, which sort of came as a surprise. Cyrus had known they used to be friends before Michael had been taken in by Cyrus’s family. He stared at the boy, who seemed younger than him by about a year. Even while he was laughing with Sierra over something she’d said, an unmistakably haunted look never left his eyes. Cyrus had a feeling it hadn’t been there before the other Old Ones took him. He shivered. He knew that look a little too well. 

Ellora, who was sitting on the other side of Sierra, looked up as Rachel approached. “Heard anything?”

Rachel shook her head, sliding in next to Ellora. “I tried asking Fort what happened, but just like usual, he wouldn’t tell me anything. Sierra, you don’t think you could . . .?” 

“Nope!” Sierra replied, her hands in the pockets of her black leather jacket. “Fort and I don’t poke around in each other’s brains for secrets. I mean, if I wanted to I could grab a memory of the last hour from his head, but still— we’re asking him first.” The others just stared at her, and she grinned weakly. “What? I feel bad looking in his head when he doesn’t want me to know something!” 

Rachel smirked. “Don’t you already know everything he doesn’t want you to know? Like that time he danced with that girl in front of his grandparents when he was little?” 

Michael hid a grin, and Ellora’s eyes widened with something like delight. “Seriously? I’ll have to hear about that.” 

“Oh, Mindflayer will tell you.”

Sierra grinned for real. “I definitely will sometime. Fort loves it when I show people embarrassing memories of him. Loves it.” She stifled a laugh. “Making fun of Fort is one of my favorite pastimes.”

“Mine, too,” Rachel agreed. 

“Getting back to the topic, if we wanted to, any of us could use Mind magic to look inside Fort’s head,” Ellora offered. One glance at Sierra and she smiled sheepishly. “. . . Not that we’re doing that.”  

“What happened?” Michael asked, looking just as confused as Cyrus felt. Though he talked quieter than the others, they all focused on him as he spoke. “Why are we considering looking into Fort’s head?” 

“We’re not,” Sierra told him. “Right, guys?”

Rachel released a sigh. “Right. And as for what happened, we don’t know the full story, so we’re gonna ask him.” Then, she looked over her shoulder. “Oh look! Here he comes.”

Cyrus glanced back, his eyes catching almost immediately on Fort. He didn’t have to be a mind reader to know that something was wrong. It showed all over his only friend’s face, with the same frown he always wore whenever something was bothering him. Cyrus couldn’t put his finger on it, but something was missing. But what? Only once Fort sat down did Cyrus realize what it was: he’d been glancing around for his future self, expecting to see himself at Fort’s side. But he wasn’t. And even weirder, he wasn’t anywhere in the cafeteria. 

Wait a second. Where was he? 

Sierra was the first to speak. She was staring right at Fort, voicing exactly what Cyrus was thinking. “Okay, out with it! What happened?” 

Fort stared back at her. “What do you mean?” 

“Well, for one, I couldn’t find Cyrus anywhere after his class ended,” Ellora began, rubbing her hands together. “And then Rachel told us you left class early for some big emergency, and you’ve been missing since.” 

Something like annoyance flitted across Fort’s face. “But I’m not missing. I’m right here. There was no emergency. I’m serious!” He met Sierra’s eyes, who was looking at him almost suspiciously, and he repeated, more firmly, “There was no emergency. Okay?”

“Really? Because I heard something . . . weird happened in Cyrus’s class.”

Rachel rose her eyebrows. “Of course it did! Time Boy is weird. It’s impossible for weird stuff to not happen around him.” Her tone showed she wasn’t exactly being condescending, but more joking, if anything. And even then, her face showed more worry than she let on. 

In spite of everything, Cyrus felt a smile stretch across his face. That was close to the way she used to talk about him back at the old Oppenheimer school, when they were good friends. But then, the other Time student’s words echoed back to him. What did Ellora mean, that something weird had happened in Cyrus’s class? He couldn’t imagine anything happening that would force Fort to cancel his own class early. Then again, he’d canceled it just a few weeks ago when Cyrus had nearly gotten kidnapped by the faeries, but that had been an actual emergency. Not a teaching emergency. 

Michael was the only one not looking at Fort. Instead, his eyes had wandered elsewhere, up at the people and tables around them. And then his head tilted in Cyrus’s direction, and their eyes locked. For the second time, a shiver went through Cyrus. Then, it occurred to him that Michael couldn’t be looking at him, only through him. Still, he couldn’t shake the feeling that maybe the redheaded boy could sense him standing there. Trying to warn him of something that hadn’t happened yet . . . which was ridiculous, because Michael seemed to know the least out of any of them. 

He heard Sierra agreeing with Rachel, and teared his eyes from Michael to see her start to say something to Fort. “Come on, we just wanna know why you left class early. Is Cyrus coming to lunch?” 

Fort’s shoulders moved up and down. “No idea. I don’t think he’s hungry after—“ And then he cut himself off, giving Sierra a dirty look, who was giving him a triumphant one back. 

She pointed at him. “Ah-ha! So you were with him!” 

“Okay, fine, I was.” And then he started to speak lower, leaning in closer to his friends, and Cyrus had to lean in too to catch what he was saying. Even then, he only got bits and pieces. The lunchroom was too loud for any kind of eavesdropping. “Class didn’t go . . . thought it would, okay? I think he needed . . . so he used . . . contact me.” 

“So you’re saying you left class because his stomach hurt?” Rachel asked, speaking louder than Fort had. “Because the Timeless One, aka Cyrus, who literally was once one of the most powerful beings on this Earth, is a little sick? That’s the big emergency?” 

“Uh, kind of?” Fort responded, and everyone at the table looked deeply underwhelmed. So was Cyrus, because even for him, this wasn’t making sense. He couldn’t see any scenario where having a hurt stomach would need Fort’s assistance. After all, Cyrus couldn’t even remember a time he’d been truly sick, so that just wasn’t possible. Despite having a human form all his life, Cyrus just didn’t experience sickness to the same level that other humans did. Either because that was him as an Eternal One, or because he just had a better immune system. Could’ve been both. 

A small voice in the back of his head told Cyrus to get back to his class, because he’d already been in his future vision long enough, but that didn’t matter. No matter how long he’d spent in future visions, it would seem like no time at all had passed once he returned. He could stay here as long as he wanted, and now he did want to stay longer, just to figure out what was going on. It wasn’t common for Cyrus to be in the dark about information, and he definitely didn’t like it. But what else could he do? Stay and listen for an hour, hoping he could piece together the puzzle in his mind? 

No, he was getting sidetracked. And what he was seeing now was just one possible future outcome. One that could easily be changed, as long as Cyrus avoided anything that’d spark an emergency. Still, he couldn’t shake the odd feeling, but it’d probably be forgotten as he went back to his present time, finished with demonstrating how to use future vision. From there, he could just have the class try it themselves, which might take up the most part of the next hour. 

Casting one last look at his potential future, Cyrus started to tune himself back into the present, easing out of the vision. But it wasn’t immediently replaced by his class. Not even a hint of it. Because something strange was happening— the cafeteria was still there, along with his unofficial-friends, but something about it was different. The scene in front of him was shifting like a video being fast-forwarded. Time was speeding up. As if from a distance, Cyrus watched it all unfold in front of him, and realized, with growing horror, that it was not him doing this.

. . . Uh-oh.

Within seconds, it was the end of lunch, and everyone was standing up quickly from their tables, moving in fast blips towards the exit. Soon, maybe faster than Cyrus could blink, all of his old friends would be gone. And then they were leaving, almost faster than Cyrus could keep up with. Then Fort was up, moving right past Cyrus, and the silver-haired boy moved to race after him, as if reaching him would fix all of this, somehow. If he could just grab Fort, anchor himself into the timeline again, everything should be okay. Time would slow down again, and all of this would be fixed. 

“Hey, wait! Fort!” 

The words flew from Cyrus’s throat, unheard by anyone. His voice echoed all around him, sounding strangely muffled, like it was coming from underwater. And if anything, Fort was only speeding up, until he got stuck behind a few kids and had to stand still for what only lasted a second, but probably was several. This was his chance! Eyes widening, Cyrus reached out desperately, instinctively, for future Fort’s hand . . . and watched in dismay as his own hand passed right through, now looking so transparent that he could see right through his once-solid-looking body. 

Cyrus lifted his hands, his jaw hanging open as he stared at them. Through his palms, the marble floors peered up at him. For a moment he was fascinated, which soon melted into shock. Even in the future vision, his body had felt solid to him, despite being able to walk through people and objects. But the fact that he could see through himself? Not good. Not good at all. And it meant one thing: he was losing control. Like he was dropping on a rollercoaster, helpless, for the first time, to do anything but fall. 

His heart plummeted. Was he being cursed again, forced to return to the very end of the future? Had using Time magic again been too much for him? But it wouldn’t make any sense. No one controlled magic anymore. And it wasn’t like it had any reason to fight back against Cyrus, unless it wanted revenge or something. It was like he was back on Atlantis, watching his older self slip out of time. And now here he was, using Time magic to help humans instead of take their power away, and it was happening all over again.

Only, he’d never experienced it before. Only from the outside, watching it happen in the same way his family had explained to him (the only thing they hadn’t lied about). And now, he didn’t know what to expect. It was times like these where Cyrus wished he remembered his life before he’d been cursed by time. It was impossible to know the details; the only hint he’d ever had of it had been on the day Atlantis had fallen. Along with what it’d felt like to get cursed by time. 

He imagined, though, that since his original self— the version he’d seen on Atlantis — had turned completely transparent when he’d taken control over Time magic, what Cyrus was experiencing wasn’t too far off. Except he wasn’t being sent to non-time or skipping ahead several millennia. No, time wasn’t moving fast enough for that, and it wasn’t sending him to some unknown location, either. The scene before him just kept speeding up, the cafeteria emptying and filling with people over and over, the sun dipping and rising again and again and again. It occurred to Cyrus that days were slipping by, speeding up so quickly that he lost track of just how many. 

Cyrus lifted his hands, struggling to return the black glow to them, to reverse time as it sped up. But with so much going on, it was hard to concentrate— a rare occurrence for Cyrus, who normally had no problem concentrating or fighting threats in time. Time, though, had other plans for him. It occurred to him that now he was moving, being pulled by an unseen force out of the dining hall of the Utopia school, time whipping by much too fast. But before he could see where he was headed, there was a flash of light, and then everything around him dipped abruptly into black. 

There was nothing. Absolutely nothing. Until—

Emrys.

The word was a hiss, a reminder of the person he used to be before Carmarthen and Oppenheimer— before he’d begun really caring about humans. Hardly no one ever called him that anymore, not since the earlier years of his life. Not since he was last with his family. Wait— his family. Cyrus’s veins turned to ice, because it hadn’t just been one voice saying his name, but several. He’d been hearing their voices in his head sometimes, but they’d just been thoughts, right? His brain trying to guilt him for betraying his family, for letting humans change him. But the difference here, was that Cyrus could’ve sworn he heard it spoken aloud. 

Then black was slowly filtering out of his vision, and Cyrus blinked through his daze. And one thing was immediately clear: he wasn’t in the cafeteria anymore. Wherever, whenever he was, it was somewhere dark, cold, and musty. Eerily similar to how the Faerie Queen’s dungeon had been on Avalon, where the only piece of sunlight had come from a small window at the top of the cell. At the thought, a strange, sinking feeling filled Cyrus’s stomach. He reached out towards the nearest thing in his vision, a brick-covered wall, and slowly slid his hand against it. 

Why did it look so . . . familiar? 

The only light came from the moonlight that poured in from small windows high on the ceiling, and so Cyrus moved closer, hoping to get a better idea of where he was. His eyes adjusted quickly to the dimness around him, and now he could make out the grainy outline of bars— bars that covered the hallway both to his left and right. There was no mistaking it. He was in a jail, but why? Did time magic send him here to what, lock him up again? If that was the case, shouldn’t Cyrus have just let the Faerie Queen capture him to save him the trouble? 

But no, wherever he was, it was somewhere in the future. That much, Cyrus was sure of. Even without any signs or dates, it was an instinct to him. He’d always been able to tell whether he was in the past or the future, even now. Like a sixth sense ingrained in his DNA. And usually, he’d be able to tell if someone was freezing or moving him in time, too, but at this point, Cyrus didn’t know. It wasn’t like his body had stopped moving— one look at his still-transparent body told him his real body was probably back in the classroom, although he had a feeling that getting back to it wouldn’t be easy. 

“You see what you’ve done to us, Emrys?” hissed a voice, and Cyrus jumped. The only difference was that he’d normally heard it as a roar in his head, knocking around inside his skull. A wave of cold water felt like it’d been splashed over him. It was just like before when he’d heard it, but Cyrus just figured it was his mind playing tricks on him, sending him thoughts that were meaningless. He knew better now, and this . . . had definitely been said out loud. 

Someone else was here with him. 

“Who’s there?” Cyrus demanded, but it wasn’t like he’d needed to. He already recognized the voice, and if it wasn’t for that, the question matched up with only a select few that he’d expect to say this. But this wasn’t fitting with any timeline Cyrus had ever witnessed, probably because he’d never explored what might happen if he betrayed his family . . . assuming his vision wouldn’t get fuzzy first. 

His response was met by ripples of taunting laughter, which seemed to come from all around him instead of directly in front of him. A cloud must’ve passed over the moon, because for a moment, the hallway was shrouded in complete darkness. Cyrus felt his hands shaking, but he did his best to remain calm, unaffected. “Don’t play games with me. Who’s there?” 

A whoosh of air came in through the hallway, the only sign to Cyrus that anything in this place was alive. For all he knew, he could be somewhere abandoned— but if that was the case, why had he heard those voices so clearly? He strained to hear a response, wishing the hallway wasn’t as dark as it was, like the setup for a horror movie. 

If only . . . wait, was it possible for Cyrus to create light? That might be his best way to track down whoever was here. He’d done some Destruction magic before, so how hard could this be? Then again, he was still at an unknown location in time, in the middle of using future vision. Could he really use Destruction magic at the same time? Cyrus had never tried to use two types of magic at once, but it couldn’t be too hard if he tried out something small. Assuming he could conjure anything at all, with the way things were going.

Since it was easier, Cyrus concentrated on just one hand. Producing a ball of light took a lot more effort than he’d expected, given how he wasn’t even trying to conjure a huge amount. For someone like Rachel, who’d probably done something like this millions of times, it’d be a breeze. But for Cyrus, it took several long seconds before a flicker of light appeared in the palm of his hand. He sighed in relief, then concentrated harder, enough that he was able to solidify it, make it bright enough to act as a flashlight. He could feel his energy draining. Holding two spells at once, even supposedly easy ones, took more effort than he was used to. 

For now, though, he had light, so he could at least figure out where he’d been sent to. Cyrus found that wherever he moved his palm, the small ball of light followed, like it was attached by some invisible string. So he held his hand out in front of him, taking in the floor beneath his feet, which was covered in stone tiles. Moving the light towards the bottom of the wall, he moved it along the bricks until suddenly, there was no wall anymore. It transformed into the bars he’d noticed earlier, but hadn’t quite been able to tell, given how grainy and dark everything was. And now, it was confirmed. He was in some kind of prison. 

But when he moved the light further up, he stopped dead in his tracks. 

A face was staring back at him. 

Cyrus practically jumped out of his skin. He reeled backwards in surprise, caught off guard just by the fact that a person had been there, face so close to the bars that Cyrus was thankful he hadn’t stepped any closer. Tentatively, he raised his glowing hand again, directing it back at the person’s face. Now that Cyrus knew what was coming, it wasn’t so horrifying as it had been the first time. The person inside the cell was definitely human, but there was something else about them. Something that made Cyrus’s skin crawl, but he couldn’t put his finger on it.

He felt like he recognized this person, but where . . .

And then it hit him. Cyrus had seen this face once, when he’d traveled with Fort and Helio to Atlantis. And then he’d seen it again, after the last battle was over, and after finally regaining consciousness, Cyrus had searched for his family’s familiar, monstrous faces. What he found instead, were new forms— the same forms his family had taken in Atlantis, before they’d become Old Ones. They’d looked human back then, just like they had human forms now. Cyrus might’ve only seen their human faces twice, but that was enough. 

It was official. He must be going insane. 

Because unless he was hallucinating, the person in front of him really wasn’t just any human. This was Ketas, the former Old One of Mind Magic. Cyrus’s brother, who’d maybe been the most powerful of all of them. But why would he be here? Unless . . . Cyrus spun around, forcing himself to shine a light towards the cells that surrounded him. He couldn’t breathe. 

No, no. Tears stung his eyes, but he barely noticed, or even cared. All he cared about was that he was inside the Faerie Queen’s prison yet again, but he wasn’t the one sitting behind bars. Now, the prison was occupied by his family, locked away in their own individual cells. They were all here— at least, all the ones who weren’t gone forever. Just like Ketas, their faces were close to the bars, strangely more terrifying than their Old One forms had ever been. Cyrus had never been afraid of their faces, but viewing them so human was a little unnerving. 

Seeing them like this, being this close to them for the first time in ages . . . a painful twang struck Cyrus’s heart.

His first reaction should’ve been anger. He should’ve been furious at everything— at time magic for bringing him here, at his family for their sudden appearance, and at himself, for not returning to his class when he’d had the chance. The second one more than the rest, because the last time Cyrus had seen his family, he’d never felt such rage. He’d never felt more betrayed, or more lost, as he did then. And Cyrus still felt that way sometimes, whenever his mind drifted to his family. 

These were the people who’d taught him everything. Who’d lied to him, tricking him into thinking humans were the true enemy. He’d spent his whole life mapping out the universe, aligning the stars and the timelines, doing anything it took to get them back. He’d chosen his family time and time again. Over friends, over Time magic, over his own freedom, over even his future self. Cyrus’s soul longed for the future they’d build together, only to find that the home he’d carved blindly for them had been based on one giant lie.

But as much as he hated them, as much as he wanted nothing to do with them ever again, Cyrus stared at the only people he’d ever loved . . . and felt profoundly alone. That, more than anything, was a feeling he knew well. Who was he without them? He’d been looking for the answer to that question everyday, yet he still didn’t fully know. Just being here, he couldn’t help but feel more like his old self. The lonely boy sitting in this very same dungeon, realization dawning that no one besides his best friend was coming to look for him. 

There seemed to be an Old One-shaped hole in Cyrus’s heart, one that seemed to only grow more, and he wished it wouldn’t. It had something to do with the knowledge that seeing his family again made him ache for something like home, but the idea of home and support and love, of the things that everyone seemed to have except him. Realizing the awful things his family had done to humans — had even tried to do to him — made that ache worse. 

And then came the realization that they hadn’t changed — he was the only one who had. He had a family, but they’d never be his. Hatred consumed his entire being at the thought of them, and yet, he missed them so much his stomach hurt. Maybe he just missed the idea of a family, not the real thing. But still, why did he miss even the idea of them? He shouldn’t be missing those monsters at all! Not that he’d ever been much better than them, until the very end. And doing the right thing, apparently, meant that Cyrus was sentencing himself to a life he’d never wanted: alone, with no one to call family. 

Even through his rocketing emotions, a small reminder prodded from the back of Cyrus’s mind. None of this answered the question of why was he here. Had someone pulled him through time to this specific point, or had it just been time itself, forcing him to go to the most torturous spot imaginable as some weird form of punishment? Then there was the voice he heard earlier, which he realized were the voices of his family, calling him Emrys. There was no mistaking it. But none of them appeared to actually see him, so how had they known he was here? 

It was time to get answers, and unfortunately, he’d have to get them from his least favorite people in the world. Fighting against the battle that swirled inside him, Cyrus bent down slowly, close enough to be at Ketas’s eyes level. He had to see for himself, make sure they were actually communicating with him somehow. He waved a hand in front of his brother’s face, finally gaining control of his voice. “Ketas, can you hear me? I-It’s me, Emrys.”

He didn’t like that he’d used his Old One name, but it’d just slipped out naturally. He’d never called himself Cyrus in front of his family. Not even once. 

“I don’t know why I’m here,” Cyrus continued in a dangerous tone, and even then, struggled to keep his voice from shaking. This time, he did notice the next wave of tears that threatened to build, and blinked rapidly, trying to hold it back. Usually he was so good at staying calm. Why did this have to be the one time he wasn’t? “But I’m not here to get any of you out. That’s the last thing I’d ever do.”  

Ketas just kept glaring at something past Cyrus, as if he wasn’t even seeing him. This wasn’t making any sense. How did his family know he was here? Did they sense he was there somehow, even if they couldn’t see him? The fact that they couldn’t see him made Cyrus feel slightly better, but not by much. He was like a ghost to them, unable to be seen or heard. But how had they known he’d even be here, if they couldn’t hear or see him? Was it just a sense they had, that they were being watched?

“It was only a matter of time you ended up here,” Ketas sneered, making Cyrus flinch. But his eyes were still fixed on somewhere behind Cyrus. “Now you know how all of us feel, forced to sit behind bars while those animals hoard magic for themselves. Everything we did was for their benefit, and look how they repaid us.” He tilted his head, a twisted sort of smile on his face. “You can’t ignore us forever, brother. You know your little friend isn’t coming to save you.” 

Equal parts anger and confusion rippled through Cyrus. Mainly confusion, at the last part of what Ketas had said. ‘Ignore us forever?’ But Cyrus had just said something to Ketas. That was the opposite of ignoring, obviously. And then there was the other part, about someone not coming to save Cyrus. Why would he need saving? This was just a future vision— it wasn’t like he needed any help getting out while his magic was working. But then again, the last time he’d tried getting out of the vision hadn’t worked so well. If anything, he’d just been sucked further in the future, unable to control time quite as effortlessly as he used to. 

If he actually needed saving to get out of a time vision, though, that’d be concerning.

“No,” Cyrus managed to whisper, and then louder, “No. Nothing we did was right!” 

“All this time, and you haven’t looked for us?” said a voice from behind Cyrus, and he looked over his shoulder, taking in the sight of D’vale. “Why? Because you wanted to be different from us?” 

His family members laughed. Cyrus shook his head. “Stop!”

“Look at you now.” Q’Baos grinned, her face strangely bare without the screaming human faces all over it. “You’re not so different from us as you thought you were, huh?” 

What were they talking about? Cyrus scrambled to his feet again, not wanting to hear any of this. He barely noticed as the ball of light in his hand flickered out, probably because he’d been so concentrated on other things. Whether this was actually a future vision or just some nightmare to mess with Cyrus’s head, he didn’t want any part in it. There was once a time where Cyrus would’ve cherished this moment, would’ve lingered as long as he could in his family’s presence. But nothing about them felt like home anymore. Nothing, except for—

“Oh, don’t listen to their nonsense.” 

Whatever was left of Cyrus’s sanity must’ve fled out the door, because there was no way he had heard that correctly. Less about the actual words, but more about the person saying them. Familiar and deep, and centuries old. There was no way that voice wasn’t who he thought it was . . . right? Cyrus turned, and a gasp caught in his throat as he realized who he was looking at. An old man stood there, taller than Cyrus, his beard partially covering the tattered brown robe he wore. Like Cyrus, his form was transparent, a sign that his real body was somewhere else.

After all this time, thinking that he’d never see any sign of his future self again, here he was. His lifelong chess player, ready to play again. But this was a different game, and for once, Cyrus didn’t know the rules. Before Merlin could say anything else, Cyrus heard himself speak. 

“Merlin? You’re . . . I thought you were—“ 

“Gone forever?” A smile slipped onto Merlin’s, and he nodded. “Yes, I’m aware that will soon be the case, after I show our chosen one how to destroy magic. Ah, that’s the funny thing about time travel.” He winked. “Events have never happened chronologically with us, have they?”

Something clicked in Cyrus’s head. “Wait . . . oh. So this is a version of you from the past.” 

Now that he looked closer, he saw he was right— this was a younger version of Merlin. It could’ve been a difference of a few years or a hundred (even Cyrus wasn’t sure the exact age that Merlin was by now). But it was enough that the wrinkles in his face weren’t as prominent, and his beard was shorter than Cyrus remembered. A part of him had hoped this was the last version of his future self he’d seen, that Fort had somehow been wrong about Merlin’s death. But of course he hadn’t. Fort wouldn’t lie about something like that. He didn’t know why that disappointed him as much as it did. 

And then something else dawned on Cyrus, something integral that was missing. He should’ve realized it as soon as Merlin showed up. “You brought me here, didn’t you? What, to try teaching me another lesson I need to learn?” 

“A lesson? By forcing you to see our family again?” A deep laugh erupted from Merlin’s mouth. “Why no, of course not! I believe you’ve already learned quite enough lessons from them.” He gave Cyrus a more pitying look. “No, I had to bring you here for a different reason. Some things in the future are meant to be, and what we’re seeing here, is not supposed to happen.” 

“Pardon me?” Cyrus stared at him, genuinely shocked that his older self, of all people, would say that. “This is supposed to happen. Our family is meant to be locked away here forever!”

“Oh, I don’t disagree with you on that!” Merlin said, holding his hands up in surrender. “So you really didn’t notice, eh? You didn’t wonder why they seem to be talking to you?” 

Cyrus shivered. “Of course. I’ve been wondering that the whole time, to be honest,” he said, almost too quietly to hear. His family’s icy laughter filled the room again, and he squeezed his eyes shut. “How could they know I’m here?” 

“It’s not this version of you or I they’re talking to. It’s a version they can see physically.”

See physically? What we he talking about? Cyrus’s eyelids fluttered open, a wave of annoyance rushing through him, one that only Merlin could bring out. “But they can’t see us physically.”

A twinkle appeared in Merlin’s eyes. “Can’t they?” 

“No, they can’t. You know how Time magic works. Not even with this new type of magic. Unless we actually want them to see us, we’re like ghosts to them.” Cyrus sighed. “Oh, fine. So what is it, then?” 

“Look around you,” his older self told him calmly. “Who’s in these cells?” 

“It’s just . . . my family.” 

“Look closer.” Merlin lifted a bony hand, pointing with his finger towards the end of the hallway, which was even darker than the rest of the area. 

Despite not wanting to, Cyrus did. He walked as close as he dared, further into the prison, until something from the right caught his eye. A flash of silver under the moonlight. The shuffling of movement in a cell. The air left Cyrus’s lungs. No. Oh, please no. He was suddenly aware of what he was seeing, and at the same time, was unable to accept what he was seeing. How was this possible? 

Cyrus’s legs were bringing him shakily forward, and then he was coming up to the last cell in the hallway, drinking in the sight of himself. Older, maybe only by a year or less, but it was hard to tell. His eyes traveled to the wrinkles of his older self’s pants—as if he’d been sitting for a long, long time. When he finally found the courage to look at his face, he realized the other Cyrus wasn’t even looking toward the bars. Instead, he was curled up in the corner, his head tucked into his knees, as far as he could possibly be from the cell door. From his family. 

“You see now, boy?” Merlin said, waving a hand around them. “This is the future you must stop.” 

Maybe it was the shock of it all, but Cyrus noticed just then that he’d fallen to his knees in front of the cell. His eyes became huge. “I can’t . . . I can’t be back here. Not after everything . . . no.” He slowly looked back to his future self, only able to manage a choked whisper as he asked, “What happened to me?”

Merlin gave him a sad look. “Nothing we can’t prevent, Cyrus. But what leads to this, that is more important. It seems that you might chose to come here.” 

“What?” Cyrus stammered, pushing himself back to his feet. “Why would I choose this? I promised Fort I would stay . . . that I would help teach. But I just wanted . . . why would I leave him?” 

His older self looked away. “That is a tough question to answer, I’m afraid. There are many choices that could lead to this, and I don’t imagine any of them being ones you’d necessarily want to take.” He looked back at Cyrus. “I know you’ve never liked my advice, but I will tell you this: stay in school. Keep teaching. Make it through the next few months. If you don’t, if you leave Utopia, this future will come to pass, no matter what.”

So this was how he might end up if he didn’t follow Merlin’s advice? In a cell, surrounded by family members who taunted him? Then again, Merlin’s advice was not always helpful or true. Cyrus wanted to remind Merlin he’d found other ways to stop futures like this, that no future was entirely set in stone, but Merlin interrupted him. “Oh, and another thing I forgot to mention! We should leave right around now, before this all get worse.”

Cyrus just stared at him, wondering if he was joking. “Um, what? How could this get worse?”

Merlin waved a hand down the hallway. As if on cue, Cyrus heard Ketas speak. “Fine, brother. Say nothing. But soon enough, we’ll have figured out a way to get past these magical restraints the Faerie Queen put on us. I know we’re close! Soon we’ll all be doing magic once again, and we’ll use it to get out of here, to take back our rightful power. Eventually, you’ll see we were always right about humans. And we were always right about you . . . the softest of all of us. And eventually, that softness will destroy you.” 

Cyrus couldn’t bear to hear another second of this. Screaming echoed around him, though he wasn’t sure if it was coming from him or someone else. He waved a hand, and the scene disappeared in a cloud of black. Then Cyrus was opening his eyes, blinking out of his daze, and found himself back in the classroom. The switch was so abrupt that he nearly tumbled from the stool— it’d completely slipped his mind that he’d been sitting on it in the first place. No time had passed, luckily, but he noticed a few students had begun whispering among themselves. The closest ones to Cyrus looked concerned. 

Cyrus felt something rising in his stomach, and then his chest, and then his throat. And then he let out one coherent, collected sentence that sounded a lot like “Excuse me for a moment!” before he moved to the doorway, the words coming out much softer than he intended. He should’ve stayed to explain something to the class, lied to them by default, pretended he’d seen nothing out of the ordinary. The problem was this used to be so ordinary for Cyrus, but the things that once made him feel safe had flipped, and now he was falling with no parachute. His legs burned as he broke into a run, softly at first, then harder and harder. 

“Cyrus?” Ellora’s voice carried after him. It’d escaped his attention that she must’ve seen him run from her classroom across the hall, but he didn’t care. “What’s wrong?”

Cyrus barely glanced at her behind him, just long enough to catch the wide-eyed look on her face. His lips moved. Nothing, Ellora! He heard it in his head. He couldn’t tell if he’d said it out-loud. In another situation, the realization that she’d come out of her classroom just to see if he was okay might’ve hit him harder. It was something Fort would do, definitely. A still confusing fact to Cyrus, given, well, everything that’d happened between them, but he was growing used to second chances.

He didn’t remember how he’d made it to the bathroom, only that his legs seemed to be going on autopilot, and in less than a minute he was pushing open one of the stalls, not bothering to close it as gently behind him as he usually did. Cyrus tried to arrange his thoughts into logical order. 1) He’d successfully used future vision, but it’d gone way too far. 2) One of the worst outcomes Cyrus had ever seen could be his future, so long as he didn’t fix things first. And 3) He had to figure out what had caused this, and how to stop it.  

But first, something more important came to mind. He needed someone, and then a name came to that someone, and Cyrus was sure that needing was just as strong as it used to be for his family. Mind magic wasn’t his speciality. He’d really only practiced it once, just to see if he could read the thoughts of the Faerie Queen at some point (immediately sensing this intrusion, she’d been furious about it). He’d never felt much of a need to use Mind magic— that is, until now. Unsure if he was doing it right, Cyrus did his best to reach out to the person with his mind, imagining his message getting through. 

Just briefly, he could feel a connection, linking their thoughts for a millisecond. It was just long enough, though, for him to think, Fort!

One word was all he could manage, but all the fear and desperation he’d been feeling was bottled up into that word, like it could display the things Cyrus really wanted to say, like Help me! and I need you and Please, be here for me. But even if he’d had the strength to push the mental connection, especially when he’d never talked to anyone telepathically before, he wasn’t sure he could say any of those things, let alone all three. Maybe someday, if it wasn’t being sent telepathically. Or maybe never at all. 

Faintly (and Cyrus was pretty sure he’d imagined it), a response came almost immediately after, layered with confusion and surprise. And he could feel the confusion and surprise, like it was being thrown at him in waves. Although Cyrus had those emotions, too, these felt different, like they were coming from someone that wasn’t him. The voice that came with it was definitely not the voice he usually heard in his head, either, and there was no mistaking the familiarity of the voice. 

Cyrus? Is that you? 

Cyrus shuddered, the already weak connection immediately dousing out. And then his breakfast worked it’s way up his throat. 

“Time is slowly tracing his face, but strangely he feels at home in this place."

Chapter Text

Anti-Hero (by Taylor Swift)

“Sometimes I feel like everybody is a sexy baby / And I'm a monster on the hill.”

Okay, so maybe his future vision had been right. Right about several things. For one, Fort hadn’t been lying when he claimed Cyrus would get sick. At the time, Cyrus almost believed it was a lie— because when was the last time he’d even thrown up before? 

Whenever it was, Cyrus knew this wasn’t the result of a stomach bug, or the flu, or any other common sickness that humans got. No, this was the result of seeing his family again, the news of a horrible potential future crashing around him. And Cyrus’s body must’ve only been able to take so much stress before being pushed over the edge. 

Once it was all over, Cyrus didn’t immediately go back to class. How could he, after everything he’d seen? Plus, the bathroom was considerably quiet— a polar opposite to Cyrus’s raging thoughts— and that was exactly what he needed. So, despite knowing how disgusting bathroom floors could be, he huddled down against the stall he’d been in, knees pulled up to his chest. 

Somewhere along the way, he’d started crying, the tears eventually fading until only streaks traced his cheeks. The last time he’d cried this much was when he’d discovered the truth behind his family’s schemes. And on top of his sudden wave of sickness, all his energy felt like it’d been drained from his body. Whether from seeing his family or using his time powers for the first time in years, he wasn’t sure.  

Still, Cyrus reminded himself, he had to get back to class. He’d been here too long. 

He could make up a story, saying there’d been an emergency or something. In a way, that was true. Usually, Cyrus would chasen himself for lying— he tried to avoid that now, if it could be avoided. And in this circumstance, assuming he could drag himself back to class, maybe lying was the best option. Because what would his students think if they knew he’d locked himself in the bathroom, crying over his future vision? 

If anything, that would terrify the class, driving them away from Time magic completely. Above all, that wasn’t what Cyrus wanted. He wanted them to be excited about seeing into the future, because usually, it was exciting. That’s what he should be proving to them. But here he was now, broadcasting himself as the world’s worst Time teacher. Maybe he’d been right from the start. Maybe he really wasn’t cut out for this yet. 

The door to the bathroom swung open. A familiar voice broke through the silence. “Cyrus? Are you in here?”

Mid-sniffle, Cyrus’s eyes widened in shock. So he hadn’t imagined it. Fort had gotten his message through Mind magic— he just hadn’t expected Fort to come looking for him. It wasn’t like Cyrus had asked him to, or said much of anything else, aside from Fort’s name. That was the second thing the future vision had been right about. 

Unless Fort’s class had miraculously ended early, this meant he was ditching it to check on Cyrus. Again. 

A familiar strange feeling— a feeling that’d always seemed to emerge in regard to Fort— bubbled to the surface at the thought. Even if Fort was only leaving for a minute to see him, it still meant more to Cyrus than he could describe. Almost as if he were sitting back in that cell in the Faerie Queen’s prison, when Fort had come to visit, proposing his seemingly farfetched plan for destruction of magic. 

Still, in that first moment he’d shown up, the shadows of the bars cast upon his familiar face, Cyrus’s heart had swelled to the size of a full balloon. Somewhere, tucked away in the corners his mind, he’d had a thought: that Fort had come to see if he was okay. Not to see the Timeless One for help, not for any ulterior motive, but to see Cyrus. Just Cyrus, the one he’d been best friends with. That feeling was the same here, a sense of assurance that no matter what state their friendship was in, Fort wouldn’t stop caring about him. 

“Fort?” Cyrus exclaimed, disbelief bleeding into his voice. “You’re here?” 

He drew back from the stall, then, just enough to undo the lock and push it open. Sure enough, his friend was standing there, unguarded worry in his eyes. How he’d known where he was, Cyrus had no idea. Fort must’ve asked the magic to teleport him to Cyrus’s location— that was what made the most sense, anyway.

“Yeah, I got your message,” Fort said, crossing the space between them. “You’ve never tried contacting me with Mind magic before, so I thought you—“ Closer now, he took in the expression on Cyrus’s face. His frown dropped lower. “What’s wrong?”

Cyrus shook his head slightly, his curls bouncing in sync against his forehead. “You don’t need to keep leaving class because of me.”

“Clearly, I did. You sounded pretty bad.” Fort joined him there on the floor, leaning his back against on side of the stall, while Cyrus did the same with the other side. Even though Fort probably assumed the answer already, he asked, “How did class go?”  

“Not great.” He smiled faintly at Fort. “It’s good to see you, though.”

“Good to . . . see me? But we just saw each other like, thirty minutes ago.” 

“Not to me,” Cyrus said quietly, thinking it’d felt more like hours, or years, that he’d been in that time vision. “I almost thought . . . let’s just say that I used my magic, and things didn’t go so well. Resulted in this.” He loosely waved a hand around them. “I never get sick, and I just did.” 

Fort shook his head in confusion. “Wait, okay. Back up. What’s going on?” 

Cyrus’s hands shook. He ached to explain everything. Ached even more to just push it all aside and forget it ever happened. But he knew that would be impossible. Not after everything he’d seen. No, he couldn’t deny it to himself. Though he couldn’t just admit it to Fort either, could he? 

He couldn’t even begin to imagine how this would sound— that he’d end up back with his family, locked away for good. There’d once been a time where he might’ve wanted that future, too, if all it meant was not being alone. Getting to be with his family in the way he’d so desperately craved, like his loneliness was an insatiable hunger only they could fulfill. Believing that Ketas, Q’baos, D’vale, D’hea, and Ni’nev . . . they’d love Cyrus til the ends of time.

But there was another reason talking about the future vision might not be an option. It had something to do with the fact that saying the words aloud would feel like he was giving truth to them. Like after he admitted it, there’d be no turning back. Saying it out-loud would make this real, that this could be his future. A shiver raced up Cyrus’s spine. Yes, it was easier to keep it in, like he’d done most of his life. 

But then again, for most of his life, Cyrus had been blind to who his true enemies were, to who he was. Back then, it’d made sense to hold things like this in, because who told their manipulees their deepest fears and secrets? A past Cyrus would never share something like this, not even with Fort. Now, the biggest difference was this: he wanted to share the truth with Fort, only, he just didn’t know how to say it.

Talking about his feelings was . . . weird, to say the least. Even now, he still found himself shying away from them, like putting them out in the open meant holding a lightning rod in a thunderstorm. Maybe it was because he’d never been taught to say the things that were really bothering him. Or that he’d just never had the right people to confide in. 

Let them fester, his family used to tell him. 

And look where that had gotten Cyrus. Now they’d been festering for fifteen years, and he wanted to turn back time and tell himself never to heed his family’s advice. But it didn’t matter now— he was starting to unwind it. Just like he had last night, covered by moonlight in their dorm room, when Cyrus’s secrets were only a whisper in the dark. In return, Fort had given him acceptance and advice. 

And now, wasn’t that what Cyrus needed?  

While his brain sorted through his thoughts for what must’ve been too long of a time, Fort just stared at him, looking increasingly more concerned. Eventually, he blurted out, “Cyrus?”

Cyrus released a breath. “You know how today, I was teaching my class how to do future vision? Well to do that, I had to demonstrate it to them. I looked into the future, just a few hours from now. Everything was going fine— normal— but then . . .” He gulped, images of his family’s evil glares emerging in his mind. “Something else happened.” 

“What, like you saw something in the future?”

“Not really something. More like . . . someone.”

From the less-than-thrilled expression on Cyrus’s face, Fort must’ve gauged it wasn’t someone either of them liked. “Someone we know?”

Cyrus hesitated, avoiding his gaze. Why was he hesitating? Just say it. 

“Look, I didn’t search for anyone in the future intentionally. I was only planning on traveling an hour into the future, right around lunchtime, to teach my students their future vision. But I saw . . . I saw my family.”

As soon as the words left his mouth, the noises around them came to a screeching halt. Saying it out-loud brought a whole new meaning to it, making the memory feel unmistakably real. He’d seen his family, and his future with them. That couldn’t be shaken away. 

“What do you mean you saw them?” There was far more urgency in Fort’s voice. “We locked them up in the Faerie Queen’s prison! Did they get out?” 

“No,” Cyrus told him softly, unable to fully meet his gaze. “Their magic is gone permanently. As far as I could see, I’m fairly certain they’ll be stuck in that prison for good.”

“But. . .?”

Cyrus clutched his hands into the wrinkles of his beige-colored pants, hoping his friend couldn’t see his white knuckles. 

“No but’s. They’re stuck there.”

Trying to hold back the rest of his words felt like trying to push back a waterfall— if he wasn’t careful, or fast enough, they’d all come spilling out. Somehow, saying the part about seeing his family in the prison was slightly easier than saying he’d seen himself there, too. Worst of all, Cyrus didn’t even know what it meant. Had he turned himself in on purpose? Or had he been finally kidnapped by the Faerie Queen? That seemed like a totally plausible reason, since Cyrus wasn’t exactly her favorite person in the world. 

Or . . . no, he couldn’t think like that. He’d come so far! It was all too, too, wrong. There was no way that the Cyrus in that prison cell could’ve turned evil again, going back to supporting his family. Back to threading the strings of fate together, bending all of time to his and his family’s will. Back to being an Old One, by choice. 

. . . Right? 

“So if they can’t get out . . . what’s the problem?” Fort asked, and Cyrus caught the uneasiness in his voice. “What else did you see?” 

Gradually, he told his friend everything. How at first, his Time magic had been working perfectly— until it hadn’t. How he’d been yanked forward through time, completely against his will, only to end up at the Faerie Queen’s prison, somewhere in the future. How his family had appeared to be talking to him, which Cyrus had thought impossible. Until Merlin showed up, that is, revealing that Cyrus — a future version of himself — had ended up behind bars again. 

Worst family reunion ever. 

By the time Cyrus was done talking, he felt like a weight had lifted from his shoulders. All the horrors of his Time vision floated out into the open, hovering in the space between them. It felt good, to have everything spoken aloud. A little less good to remember what he’d just told Fort, along with the look of shock painted across the other boy’s face. None of it had been easy to say. 

“Wait, so you saw yourself locked up in the Faerie Queen’s prison, again?” Fort shook his head, brows knitting together with what almost appeared to be anger. “I made a bargain with her to release you!”

He was referring to the events of three and a half years ago, Cyrus realized. When Fort had exchanged his knowledge of magic for the Timeless One’s release. Although Cyrus hadn’t witnessed that bargain directly, he figured that — knowing the Faerie Queen — it’d been a one-time deal. 

“You did,” Cyrus agreed. A small laugh, tinged with bitterness, escaped his lips. “But it doesn’t change the fact that she couldn’t lock me up ever again.”

“But still, you’re different now. You’re not . . .” Bad. Evil. Monstrous, Cyrus finished for him. Fort trailed off, deciding against it. Probably for the better. “Um, you know. Do you know how you got there?”

Cyrus thought back to that memory, to the words Merlin had spoken to him. “It seems that you might choose to come here,” he’d said. That, of all things, was the biggest mystery of all. And possibility the most horrifying. Why would Cyrus ever choose to turn himself in, let alone be in the same vicinity as his family? The very idea seemed unimaginable. But Merlin had said they could prevent it, so Cyrus was determined to never let that future happen. 

He looked at Fort, who was just sitting there, waiting for an answer. Cyrus hesitated, before hearing the word “No” fall out of his mouth. It’d been a long, long time since he’d lied to Fort, and the single syllable left a bitter taste inside his mouth. But if there was one detail he wanted to leave out, it was the possibility that Cyrus might actually choose to leave Fort. Choose to be with his family. 

And if that ever happened, he’d break his closest and only friend’s heart all over again. Something Cyrus swore he’d never let happen ever again, not as long as he lived. 

“Okay.” Fort nodded, accepting this so easily it made Cyrus’s heart squeeze. “Either way, we’ll stop this from happening. Do you think that maybe . . . it could’ve been a malfunction or something? A fake future?”

At that, Cyrus felt a slight, uncontrollable smile growing on his face. Even now, he couldn’t push away a wave of affection for his friend. “Oh, Fort. No futures I see are ‘fake’, necessarily. That’s not how Time magic works. When I look into the future, I see the most probable things, starting with the most likely thing first, and going from there. If I saw myself locked in a prison cell— with my family— then . . . it’s probable.”

“But that doesn’t mean it will happen,” Fort pushed.

“Maybe not.” Cyrus’s hands were trembling, frantic. He smoothed them out on his pants again, trying to steady them. “I don’t know, Fort. I’m . . . I’m afraid.”

Surprise rippled through him. The old version of Cyrus would never had admitted having such a weak emotion to anyone, let alone a human. But now, sitting on the floor of the white-tiled bathroom with Fort, he liked the air his words took. If he could be truly honest with anyone, it was the boy sitting in front of him. And he knew that of all people, Fort was the last person to judge him for having that feeling.

“To be locked up again?” Fort guessed, but that wasn’t it. Not the biggest thing, at least. 

“To see my family.” Cyrus lowered his gaze to the floor, his head tilted down. He tried to describe what it’d been like, to feel so lost and homeless, so unsure of himself without the love of the other Old Ones, but he couldn’t put any of it into words. Instead, he settled on, “When I saw them in my future vision, they . . . were not pleased with me, for obvious reasons. And they wanted to hurt me.” 

“I mean, you did turn against them,” Fort said. Even if he’d gotten better at it, he’d never seemed very good at the comforting thing. “They were the ones trying to destroy us all, and you saved us. You did the right—“

“But they’re my family, Fort!” Cyrus’s eyes watered. Quickly, he blinked the sensation away. “Or they were. I thought I was doing so well without them. I was doing so well, and then I heard the things they said to me and I . . .” He swallowed, feeling himself getting choked up. “I couldn’t handle it.”

“No,” Fort said sharply. There was sympathy, mixed with an intense kind of anger, behind his gaze. “Look, they didn’t deserve you. Ever. And they don’t deserve for you to still be calling them your family.” 

Unburied disgust soaked through his tone— the same type that Cyrus usually reserved whenever he thought of his family. But now, for the first time in a long time, he wasn’t sure what he was feeling. Loss? Sadness? Anger at himself, for feeling all those things? 

Cyrus realized he’d been shaking his head, having no idea why he’d started doing it in the first place. “Then maybe I’m not quite sure what family is supposed to be like.”

That seemed to stump Fort. For a while, he fell silent, both of them listening to the faint drip drip coming from one of the bathroom sinks. And then: “Everyone’s family works differently, I guess. I used to always be scared that something bad would happen to my dad or Ember — and trust me, I still am — but . . . never that they’d hurt me. Family shouldn’t be like that.”

Oh. Cyrus had never been taught that.

Another thing to add to the reasons of why his family wasn’t, well, normal. 

“It’s just— they seemed so good, before. In their own way, I thought they were good to me.”

“How?” Fort breathed, like he struggled to imagine the possibility of it. And he probably did. 

“I don’t . . . I don’t know.” Helplessly, Cyrus shrugged. “That’s just what I thought.” 

“Well, I’m glad you don’t think that anymore. Because they suck.” 

He couldn’t help it. He had to laugh, even if this whole conversation kind of hurt. “Yeah! I guess it was either siding with them and destroying the world, or turning against them and losing the only family I ever had.” Either way, Cyrus supposed, he’d lose something— whether that was his friends or his family. 

From where he was sitting, Fort shifted, leaning closer to Cyrus ever-so-slightly. “I wouldn’t say that’s completely true.” 

The Clairvoyant boy looked at him quizzically. “What do you mean?”

“You do have someone.”

“Who?” he asked, not understanding what he was trying to say. 

“Me,” Fort said, with a gentleness that Cyrus had never known he could possess. “You have me.”

Cyrus blinked. The words filled him with strange, almost unreachable feelings. Almost, because there they were, soaring up without warning into his heart. As soon as the words were said aloud, Cyrus knew he’d been aware of the truth already. That if no one else, he had one person. No one— not even his family— had truly been there for him like Fort had. He’d just never had that confirmation, on both sides, until now.

Once, during their first meeting in the past, Fort had told Cyrus they’d one day be the best of friends. For some time after revealing his true identity — even after the final battle in D.C and Maryland — a very large part of Cyrus had feared he’d destroyed whatever shred of friendship they’d had left. After all this time, after all the rebuilding and healing, Fort’s words wrapped around Cyrus like a warm embrace. Fusing together the pieces of their once-shattered friendship.

Heart pounding, Cyrus tossed him a slow smile.

“Okay, then.”

He struggled for more words. So, making rare use of Mind magic, Cyrus let a fuzzy thought drift in Fort’s direction: Then you have me, too.

The lunch bell rang. Even that was different from the Oppenheimer school, being a few pleasant chimes instead of the harsher military bell Cyrus had become accustomed to. Outside the bathroom door, the sound of footsteps, marching in unison, flooded the once-silent hallway. In a matter of moments, everyone would be at lunch— strangely enough, the very same scene Cyrus had witnessed in his future vision, just an hour ago.

Needless to say, it was weird to think of how much had changed. Only this time, he assumed he’d actually be going to lunch. Not missing it like his future vision had predicted. 

Even if Cyrus wasn’t remotely hungry, the idea of conjuring up some chicken fingers was the next-best thing he could do to feel better. (Hey, you couldn’t blame him. It’d been his favorite food at the old Oppenheimer school’s cafeteria!). Like it or not, Oppenheimer had kind of Americanized him.

Up until now, Fort had stayed with him, promising they’d leave when Cyrus was ready. But they needed to get to lunch, and afterward, Cyrus had his second class of the day. Not that he felt exactly okay to teach again, after the experience he’d had with his first class. Really, who would be, after seeing a vision like that? 

Next time he taught, Cyrus conceded, he’d be more careful. Though, he highly doubted he’d be thrown back into a vision with his family again— it’d been Merlin who’d sent Cyrus there, after all. And Cyrus had gotten that message, very thoroughly. So unless he decided to go back voluntarily, he wouldn’t have to worry about seeing his family again.

Well, at least — if all went well —seeing them in a future vision. Or in person. And if Cyrus did everything right, he should be able to keep it that way. 

“Lunch,” Cyrus breathed, like the bell hadn’t already made that clear. Climbing to his feet, he took Fort’s hands and helped him up. He did a quick glance into the future, his eyes unfocusing. “Which I see will have quite the crowd, if we don’t hurry. We should probably go.”

Fort lifted the latch, eyeing him. “You’re sure you’re—“

“I feel okay.”

They broke free of the stall, and for a moment, Cyrus stretched his legs out. After sitting for so long, his knees felt prominently stiff, as if he’d been sitting there for a millennia rather than thirty or forty minutes. Together, the two boys made a beeline for the exit. They pushed the door open, revealing a crowded hallway, with teachers and students alike trailing down it. Since they were going in the direction of the dining hall, Cyrus and Fort let themselves get swept up in the crowd.

He glanced around for Ellora or his other students, hoping he wouldn’t accidentally run into any of them on his way. After all, it was them who had seen Cyrus flee from his classroom, and probably would have an endless list of questions if they saw him now. He was still thinking of excuses to use for his following class tomorrow, and the fact that all the same students were there wouldn’t exactly help his case. 

Luckily, though, no one else Cyrus knew came in sight as they rushed down the hallway and down the stairs. They’d just made it to the downstairs hallway when a cluster of all-too-familiar voices hissed in Cyrus’s head. Worst timing ever.

You run from us with this new life, Emrys, but we both know it won’t last. Your future vision foretold it. Sooner or later, you will come crawling back to us.

Usually, hearing his family’s voices in his head wouldn’t have such a dramatic effect on him. He’d fight with them, push them aside, ignore them . . . anything to drive their voices away. Believing they only popped up now and again to mess with his head, to crack open Cyrus’s insecurities. But any presence of them now was too raw, too recent, from having just seen them in his vision, and Cyrus grew suddenly faint.

Wordlessly, he stopped, catching himself against the smooth, marble wall for balance. Everyone else around him kept walking, aside from Fort, who flashed him a look of confusion. “What’s wrong?”

“Ah, well—“

But again, his family’s voices were hot in Cyrus’s ears. Oh, please! A human, caring about you? He is faking his concern, little brother! The boy could care less about Old Ones like us. 

Cyrus squeezed his eyes shut, waiting for the thought to dissipate. One second. Five. Ten. When it became clear the voices were gone, he tentatively opened his eyes again. The hallway was half emptier now. And one Fort Fitzgerald was staring at Cyrus like he’d gone completely bonkers.

“The voices,” Cyrus said quietly. “They’re getting worse.”

His friend’s eyes widened. “Voices?” he repeated. “Oh, you mean the ones that sound like your evil family exploiting you in your head? Those voices?”

Cyrus just sighed, which was apparently enough of an answer for Fort. The other boy drew away from the wall, clearly thinking hard. Before he even said anything, Cyrus’s brain was already rushing forward, seeing the words that’d spill from his mouth before he even said them aloud. Even without looking into the future, he could easily predict what Fort would say next. 

From the way he didn’t look at Cyrus, the way he seemed to be coming up with an impulsive plan, Cyrus already knew he was right. Maybe it was from being around Fort so much, seeing how his mind worked, but Cyrus knew exactly how he operated. He started to shake his head, even before Fort spoke. When he did, it confirmed everything Cyrus figured he’d been mulling over, maybe ever since their conversation last night.

“We don’t need to,” Cyrus told him, after one peak a couple seconds into the future. A habit that, despite not doing it for almost four years, felt so natural to restart. 

Fort’s tone was urgent and low. “Yes, we do. We have to tell someone about these voices you’re hearing.” 

“Tell who?” The words tasted like sawdust in his mouth. “What would that help?”

“So you can get rid of this!”

“How?” Cyrus tapped his temple. “They’re in here. Getting them out isn’t possible.” He tilted his head, a thoughtful look appearing on his face. “Not without something like Mind magic, I suppose.” 

“I might know someone who can do it without Mind magic.” Taking a deep breath, Fort looked away. “We actually have a guidance counselor here.” 

“Fort . . .” 

“It‘s Helio.”

Cyrus’s eyes grew very wide. “Fort—“ 

“So I’ll take you to him. Trust me, I kinda hated the idea at first too, but he’s good at it. You can talk to him, work through this—“

“Fort!” Cyrus shouted, and Fort blinked, taken aback by his outburst. He rarely was someone who yelled, but he was too stressed now to stop himself from doing it. His usual calm demeanor broke free from his mind. “I can’t tell anyone about this! Do you understand what this could mean if it gets out?” He waved his hands. “The Old One of Time is turning to his family’s side again! That’s what everyone will think! And what little trust I’ve gained in everyone’s eyes will be broken. I’ll have to leave, and I want to be here.”

Cyrus stopped talking, but his brain finished the sentence for him. Two words hung between them, left unsaid.

With you. 

Silence stretched across the room, and for maybe a second or two, all Cyrus heard were his uneven breaths. His feet, which before had carried him in small paces as he’d yelled, had now stopped moving completely. Stopped right in front of Fort. And then, he was teaching for the hood of Fort’s sweatshirt, pulling him closer. Like an instinct. His eyes searched Fort’s desperately, his voice now a choked whisper. “Please, Fort. Please.” 

His friend seemed taken aback for a moment, surprise falling across his face. It melted quickly into a frown, and if Cyrus didn’t know any better, Fort looked almost . . . crushed. “You think I’d ever do something to make you leave?”

Cyrus didn’t know how to answer that. So he just swallowed, giving Fort a little shake of his head. His fists curled into the material of the sweatshirt. Outside the hallway, faded voices and footsteps floated from behind the cafeteria door, but none of it was audible. The only thing Cyrus heard clearly was Fort’s voice. 

“I wouldn’t.” And then, softer, Fort repeated, “I wouldn’t.” 

A shiver ran through him. Fort didn’t want him to leave. Cyrus knew it shouldn’t bring him that much joy, but it did. He pressed his lips together, letting out air. “Well . . . good. So you know I can’t do what you want, then.” 

“If you talk to Helio,” Fort said carefully, and Cyrus had seen this coming. Of course. He knew Fort better than to just give up— he was always looking for ways to do what he thought was right. “He won’t say a word to anyone else about what you tell him. He’s literally unable to— he used magic so he couldn’t. And besides, who cares about what everyone else thinks? You know you don’t support your family. You’re already proving that by being here.” 

Cyrus slowly breathed in and out, letting Fort’s words sink in. Realizing his hands were shaking slightly, he gently released Fort, quickly flattening them at his sides before he could notice. “You’re right. I’m still not sure about this, though. Just talking to Helio may not get rid of these voices.”

“I guess we’ll have to hope it does.”

“And what then?” he asked. “How do you know things won’t get worse?” 

Fort growled in frustration. “I don’t,” he said, glaring at him. “But I know things will get worse if you don’t do something about it. Sometimes I don’t understand you, Cyrus. I don’t get why you wouldn’t want that . . .” 

He trailed off, and Cyrus frowned. He knew he was hard to keep up with. Knew he was so enigmatic and vague and confusing at times— maybe all the time, and Fort had once said that Cyrus was hard to predict. Even Cyrus had trouble understanding himself, sometimes. Both the version he was now, along with the future version of himself, Merlin. 

It was surprising that Fort had ever understood Cyrus at all— even during the times he really hadn’t wanted to. The only one who seemed to be best at it was Merlin, which was annoying, because the old man always acted like he had the upper hand because of that. 

“You don’t get what I’m saying,” Cyrus said quietly, looking away. “You asked me months ago to teach here, so I’m teaching. I’m putting myself in a position that I quite honestly never would’ve predicted myself being in. Can’t that be enough?” 

“Look at yourself!” Fort said, loud enough that Cyrus flinched. “You just threw up after your first class— that’s not enough! That’s actually less than enough!”

Cyrus didn’t have the energy to fight right now. They hadn’t fought in a very long time, not since that day in the Faerie Queen’s prison and Atlantis. Maybe it was the past three years wearing him down, crafting him into a better person and friend, but he didn’t have that same desire to argue with Fort. Not anymore. “I thought it was enough for me just being here.” 

“Not if it meant this,” Fort said, his voice dropping in volume. He let out a long sigh. “Sorry. I’m being a jerk. None of that stuff was your fault.”

“I’m sorry, too. I never was sure what the future had in store for me here, but I always suspected it would be difficult in some ways.” Cyrus shrugged a little. “Not in the ways I was expecting, however.” 

Fort gave a shake of his head. “Our first days teaching here weren’t exactly easy for any of us. Me, Sierra, Jia, Rachel . . . especially not me. It was like Oppenheimer 2.0. I had no idea what I was doing, at all.” 

That made Cyrus smile, much wider than he thought he would. “I figured. You adjusted to the old Oppenheimer school about as well as a hermit crab might adjust to its new shell after outgrowing its old one.” 

“That makes no sense,” Fort muttered, but Cyrus thought it must’ve, because the other boy was almost smiling. 

“Anyway, you already know that’s how I feel here. But that doesn’t mean I want to leave. If I leave, then I’ll have let everyone down. Most importantly Rachel, Jia, you—“

“What?” Fort protested, looking shocked. “You haven’t let me down. Not since . . .” He trailed off, letting the unsaid fill in the gaps. They both knew what he was referring to. 

Uncomfortable, Cyrus averted his gaze. “Yeah.”

A moment passed where neither of them said anything, both lost in their own thoughts. And then, Fort broke through the silence. “Hey, uh, before we go to lunch, I need to stop somewhere really quick. Helio . . . actually needs me for something. Is that okay?”

Not fully focusing on what his friend was saying, Cyrus nodded. “That’s fine.” 

Instead of walking, however, Fort raised his hands in midair. He did a quick motion, and before Cyrus knew it, a shimmering teleportation circle had opened up before them, leading to a different part of the Utopia school. A hallway bathed in late-morning sunlight, with a cherry-red door at the center of it all, hanging open three inches. Fort immediately stepped inside the circle, hands already pushing open the door. With growing curiosity, Cyrus followed. Needless to say, he wasn’t expecting what he’d see on the other side.  

Fort led him into the room, and there was Helio. The once-faerie child — now adult faerie from the Tylwyth Teg — sat there behind an intricate desk, feet propped up on the wooden surface. His hands crinkled the edges of a newspaper, which was probably the most adult thing Cyrus had ever seen him do. Upon the boys’ arrival, he lowered the newspaper by a fraction, eyebrows shooting upward in surprise. 

“Fort?” he exclaimed. “Your counseling session isn’t until Thursday, son.”

Cyrus wasn’t sure what surprised him more— that Forsythe Fitzgerald, longtime sufferer of his rocketing emotions and other self-induced traumatic issues, was actually seeking therapy, or that Helio, once-faerie child who’d previously gotten on Cyrus’s nerves, giving him lecture after lecture about his family, was the one giving the therapy. Or that, most of all, Fort was genuinely willing to talk to Helio, of all people, about all his issues. A lot really must have changed in the three years Cyrus had been traveling on his own.

“What?” Stopping, Fort pointed at him. “First of all, do not call me son. Seriously, every time I have to tell you you’re not my dad . . .” 

Or maybe not everything had changed. 

Helio just winked, a gesture that reminded Cyrus a lot of Fort’s father. “Got it.”

“Second,” Fort continued. “I’m not here for me. This is for him.” He moved aside, revealing Cyrus in the doorway.

It took him a moment to register what was going on, that Fort had lied to him. Tricked him into coming here sooner than he wanted to. Cyrus’s eye twitched. 

Well played. As much as he thought he knew the boy next to him, Fort would never fail to surprise him, would never fail to throw curveballs in Cyrus’s path. He couldn’t help but be amazed by Fort’s mind, by how well he was able to sneak truths past Cyrus. Why hadn’t Cyrus, the Timeless One himself, seen that coming? And why was a part of him proud that Fort had tricked him so effortlessly? He brushed that emotion away.

There was no denying it. By the end of all this, Fort was going to give him gray hairs. 

Oh wait. He already had those.

Cyrus spun towards Fort in an instant. “You said we were going here for you. You . . . you tricked me!”  

Fort edged in front of the door, as if Cyrus might run out at any second. “I’m sorry, okay? I had to.” 

From behind them, Helio let out a long groan. “Oh, no. Please don’t tell me you two are fighting again.”

“No,” they said together.

The grown-up faerie didn’t look entirely convinced. “. . . Okay. Because I dealt enough with that from last time.” 

Cyrus blushed. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Fort’s face reddening, too. “Sorry again, for that. But really, we’re fine. I’m not sure I know what’s going on here.”

Fort let out a huff. “Yes, you do.” He turned to Helio. “Do you have time to fit him in right now?”

Helio scratched his chin, which Cyrus noticed was now sprouting facial hair. So weird. The man swiveled around on his desk chair, eyes locking on a calendar that hung from the wall. He peered at it for long enough that Cyrus hoped it meant he did have someone else scheduled for this time, but to his disappointment, Helio flashed them a grin. “Of course! My next appointment isn’t until 1:30.”

Quickly, Cyrus used his powers to check the time. 12:45. Still too early. But there was still a way around this. He could speed up time, avoiding the counseling session altogether. Or he could time-travel to somewhen else entirely, again, avoiding the difficult conversation ahead. But Helio and Fort were both staring at him, expecting him to say yes, and Cyrus realized he wouldn’t have much of a choice. 

If he used his magic to avoid this, to manipulate the natural unfolding of time, wouldn’t he be doing exactly what the old Cyrus would’ve done? Melt away from scenarios he no longer wanted to be in, giving half-understandable explanations to his friends. Hiding away in the shadows of time, bending all of the unwanted events to his will. Even though that wasn’t at all similar to the situation now, it still would ease his conscious far more if he stayed. 

Ugh. If he was here, Merlin would so be enjoying this. 

“Okay,” Cyrus said. “I’ll do it.”

After giving a brief explanation to the faerie-man of why Cyrus was here (hearing his family’s voices in his head, the usual), his best friend left the two of them alone. Really, Cyrus would’ve preferred it if Fort had been allowed to stay, but it went against Helio’s “rules of confidentiality”. (“Besides,” Helio had explained. “—we may talk about subjects you’d prefer my son Fort wouldn’t hear.”) Which for obvious reasons, didn’t make Cyrus feel too much better.

While Helio stayed seated in his desk chair, Cyrus settled into one of the plush chairs across from him, sinking into it further than he expected to. Helio had used magic to make them tea, which Cyrus was immensely grateful for. He watched as two teacups appeared in thin air, along with a kettle of tea, which began to pour itself into the cups. When it was done, he reached for one of the cups and held it in his lap.

"So, Cyrus,” Helio began, and Cyrus realized a pair of glasses — which he swore hadn’t been there before — had materialized on his face. “Its been a while since we’ve seen each other, huh?”

“I guess so! I’ve seen your Faerie Queen quite a lot.”

Helio winced, but quickly covered it up with a weak smile. “Really! Does she say anything about me?”

Cyrus returned the smile. “Not really, sorry. She’s usually too preoccupied with trying to capture or kill me— whichever she’s in the mood for.”

“Oh, that sounds like her. Sorry about that. I’m sure she knows you helped save the world, she just . . . uh . . . loves holding grudges. For centuries at a time.” Helio cleared his throat, straightening up in a professional manner. “So, let’s talk about these voices that you've been hearing. When did they start?"

At the change of topic, Cyrus shifted uncomfortably in his chair. When did they start? He tried following the timelines of when they’d began, but he couldn’t quite pinpoint their arrival. He remembered before finding out the truth about his siblings, he’d imagine their voices in his head sometimes— either in an effort to combat his loneliness or to seek their enriching advice. Or he’d talk to them face-to-face with the help of Time magic, communicating with his brothers and sisters at a time before their banishment, a time where magic was not yet under control.

The voices now were different. They’d grown more sinister, taunting, mocking. Twisting his thoughts, toying with his emotions, with his silly dreams to better himself. Or maybe they always had talked to him that way, and Cyrus had just never known the difference, before that fateful day on Atlantis. So no, he couldn’t exactly answer when he’d first heard his family’s voices in his head, but he could definitely tell when they’d become distinctly bothersome.

Cyrus’s eyes flickered back to Helio’s, who was just sitting there, patiently waiting for an answer. “I think . . . I think I’ve always heard them in my head sometimes. But they didn’t really, um, affect me until about three years ago. After the battle.”

Helio furrowed his brow. “Affect you how?”

“In a negative way. Before, well . . . I suppose I wanted them there. I liked to imagine them there.” A shiver went through him, and suddenly Cyrus felt very glad that Fort wasn’t in the room with him. That felt so wrong to say.

Strangely, the counselor’s tone held no judgement in it. “Why did you like it?”

Cyrus gave a shrug. This was quickly getting far too confrontational for his liking, and he hated thinking about the person he used to be. The way he used to think. Even though he didn’t like admitting it, he was starting to understand why Merlin had disliked him so much in the past.

“I — I don’t know. I was just so obsessed with getting them back, and I thought about them all the time, and— and I just guess that any piece of them was enough.”

“Ah.” Helio took a slow sip of his lavender tea, and the steam from it fogged up his glasses. “So you’re saying you liked hearing their voices in your head because you felt like your family was with you. That makes sense, Cyrus. It brought you comfort.”

“No,” Cyrus said sharply, surprising himself. “It was wrong. I was wrong. They constantly told me things about bringing order to chaos, and fixing what was wrong in the world, using everything as a means to an end, and I believed them. How could I . . . how could . . .”

“You believed them because they are your family,” Helio said evenly, giving him a sympathetic look. “Everyone is going to believe the people they love, do you understand? You must’ve loved your family so much if you were willing to do anything they said.”

Despite not wanting to admit it, Cyrus nodded. He had loved them. And worse, a part of him still sort of loved them. But that love had become tainted, and Cyrus had been drowning in the remains for a very long time. Without his family, he wasn’t even sure what love felt like. Surely it was meant to feel like safety or comfort, but anything else left Cyrus grasping at straws. Feeling like an alien in an all-too-human world.

“I was.” Shame flooded Cyrus, and he had to look away. His tea seemed easier to look at, then, so he stared at it, watching the liquid swish around the cup, steam curling around the edges. “And I did do everything for them. I’m not sure they would’ve . . .”

“Would’ve . . . what? Done the same for you?”

Cyrus clenched his teacup tighter. “Yes. But their actions proved that, at the end.” His eyes snapped back up to the faerie. “It may sound strange, but I hope I’m not like my family. It never felt good, hurting humans like they did. Hurting . . . the people I care about.” 

“Your friends, you mean?” 

Cyrus swallowed hard. He thought of Fort, Jia, and Rachel — all the manipulation and games he’d put them through — and his heart sunk at the memory. “Yeah. They didn’t deserve everything I put them through, and a part of me knew that. Even though I thought I was doing right by my family, I never wanted anyone to get hurt. Ever. My family, on the other hand, never had any kind of pity for humans. I guess there’s the difference.”

“What does your family think of that?” Helio asked, looking at Cyrus with a newfound curiosity. “Your different viewpoints toward humans?” 

Cyrus let out a small, choked laugh. “Honestly? I don’t know. I haven’t tried talking to them. But I could imagine they’d have quite a lot to say about how barbaric and monstrous they believe humans to be . . . even though it’s more like the other way around.” 

“Well . . . if you no longer want to be like your family, who do you want to be?”

That stumped Cyrus. A small pang of fear grew in his chest. All this time, for the past three years, he’d been searching for the answer to that very same question. Trying to figure out who he was without his ancient siblings, without a reliance on tricks and lies and carefully-wielded plans across time. But no matter how far he ran from his true identity, it stuck with him, in the same way time itself clung in all its cursed glory. In Cyrus’ head, he was still strange and frightening, the shadow of a figure cloaked in red. 

He was born the Timeless One and he would die the Timeless One. No matter how much Cyrus wanted to deny it, that was true. 

Who do you want to be? came Helio’s words again, echoing around in his brain. He wanted to be someone Fort was proud of. Someone Merlin was proud of. Most of all, Cyrus. Someone who wasn’t drifting aimlessly through the universe, trying to find themselves while shouldering a lifetime of irreversible mistakes. And then, an answer came to him, so painstakingly obvious he wondered why he’d never realized it before. 

“Not an Old One,” Cyrus heard himself whisper. That was the only truth he could express.

The faerie-man, who’d been in the middle of sipping his tea, paused to set it down. Gradually, he folded his arms across the desk, and his reply only brought Cyrus rippling waves of disappointment. “Look . . . I know this isn’t something you want to hear, but you can’t change who you are. No one can. You can only change who you want to be now.”

“I don’t think I know who that is.”

Helio smiled slowly. “You should give yourself more credit, Cyrus. You’re closer to that person than you think.” 

Cyrus couldn’t hold back the automatic scowl that crossed his face. “You mean Merlin.”

“No, I don’t mean Merlin. You don’t have to try to be exactly like him. I mean, you will be him in a few dozen or thousand or however-long-you-live years, but for now I would just be what sounds right to you.”

“And what if I’m never who I want to be?”

“You will be. Life’s too short to spend it at war with yourself.” Helio paused, a glimmer appearing in his eyes. “Literally, in your case. You may be an Old One— and that will never change— but that doesn’t have to make you a bad person. And the things you’ve done in the past don’t have to define you. You can be the exception of your family.” 

“How?”

“Well . . . maybe for a start, you could learn to forgive yourself. Most importantly, learn to forgive your family.”

“Forgive them?” Cyrus exclaimed, so startled from the idea that the tea nearly spilled in his lap. “But they’ve done terrible things! You lectured me about all the terrible things they’ve done — back on Atlantis, remember?”

Helio raised his hands in a calming gesture. “Hey, that doesn’t mean I forgive them. But you have a very different relationship with them then I do— they’re your family. And on a much deeper level, they’ve hurt you, Cyrus. You have to see that. And you must see that the only way to heal and move on from that old part of yourself, is to forgive. Forgive both your old self and your family.”

Cyrus fell back in his chair, feeling like all the wind had been knocked out of him. He shook his head slightly, mouth hanging open. “But they . . . they don’t deserve it.” 

“So you think you don’t deserve forgiveness, either?” The faerie-man raised an eyebrow. The words were another punch to the gut, making Cyrus feel even more breathless. In a gentle voice, Helio continued, “Everyone deserves forgiveness, Cyrus. And it seems to me you’re still holding a lot of guilt for the things you and your family have done. Once you let go of that guilt, I think you won’t be hearing their voices in your head so much. Or at least, they won’t bother you as much.” 

Forgive myself, Cyrus thought, with a bitter sort of amusement. If only it was that easy. Glancing at Helio again, he reluctantly nodded. “I suppose I could try.” 

Even though he had no idea how. 

“Look at it this way,” Helio said, breaking the silence that’d stretched across the room. “Is there anyone in your life who’s already forgiven you for your actions? Anyone at all?”

It didn’t take much thought on Cyrus’s end. Instantly, he mind went to Fort, the only one who’d fully seemed to forgive Cyrus for everything. He felt a smile stretch across his face as he answered, “Um, just one person. Fort.”

“Fort, huh?” A twinkle appeared in Helio’s eyes. “Is that why you told him about hearing your family’s voices?” 

Cyrus shrugged. “I guess so. I mean, I wouldn’t have wanted to tell anyone else. The only person who I wanted to talk to about them . . . is Fort.” 

“Any specific reason for that?” Helio had asked it like he already knew the answer, like there was something he knew that Cyrus didn’t. He thought of Fort, who was maybe the person he liked most in the world. Did there have to be a reason for that? That Fort was the only person who Cyrus had ever really opened up to, had grown comfortable enough to honestly share his thoughts and fears with? 

Cyrus gave him an odd look. “Pardon me?”

“Is there any reason that Fort is the only person you’ve wanted to confide in?”  

“Well, no. Not one that I’m sure of.” 

Helio just sat there patiently. “Think of one.” 

The silver-haired boy sighed, looking away. “Because he’s my . . .” Roomate? Friend? Best friend? Former enemy? There wasn’t exactly a word for him that Cyrus could think of. No single word could sum up what he felt about Fort. 

Helio leaned closer. “What about your other friends? Have you talked to any of them about the voices?”

“I don’t have other friends,” Cyrus replied, frowning slightly. “Not anymore. Fort’s the only person who trusts me here. He still wants to be friends with me . . . who knows why, after everything I’ve done to him. The first time we met, he told me we’d be best friends in the future.” He couldn’t help but smile from the memory. “I even believed him at first . . . not that it’d be real.”

“But it was real, huh?”

Helio was good at pointing out the obvious, and it kind of bothered Cyrus. He sighed wistfully. “Maybe. I pretended it was. But it is real now.” 

“And how does that make you feel— that friendship?” The faerie-man was smiling, for a reason Cyrus wasn’t sure of. 

Cyrus hesitated for a moment, uncertain how to put his thoughts into words. While traveling on his own for three years, and even before that, something had been a constant in his mind. It’d been there when there was no reason for it, long after that day he’d fought his friends in the future, desolated land. 

During all the times when him and Fort had been separated, his friend had never left his mind. It didn’t matter where. In any place in the world, no matter how much time passed . . . Cyrus thought about him every day. Probably every hour. There’d once been a time where Cyrus’s family was the center of his life. He couldn’t remember when, or how, it’d switched to Fort. All he knew was that their friendship was special. And something he was sure he’d never felt, not with anyone else before. 

“Well, I’m not sure I deserve it,” he said finally. “I’m not even sure how he thought I deserved his forgiveness, or how we’re friends again, but I’m really glad we are.” A warm feeling bubbled to his chest, so sudden it surprised him. “He's the only one who's ever really kept believing in me, you know? I don’t know what it is, but he sees something good in me.” 

“Your friendship is obviously important to him. Fort tells me you were the first person who was even kind to him at the Oppenheimer school.”

”Really?” Cyrus hadn’t known that, actually. It didn’t exactly surprise him, given that Fort’s usual behavior — especially three years ago — had been borderline irritable and grumpy, but it still made him a little sad. “I — I guess that’s true.” He breathed out a soft laugh. “Funnily enough, it’s like he’s almost done the same thing for me this time around.”

“Because he’s forgiven you,” Helio added, and Cyrus nodded. “Which brings me to this . . .” The faerie-man took a deep breath. “If Fort can still forgive you for what you have done, then why can't you forgive yourself?"

Oh. 

Oh. 

Cyrus gave a small shake of his head. “I don’t . . . I don’t know. I just can’t, yet. I don’t know why.”

“And that’s okay. Most of us don’t know. But you’ll figure it out.” Helio gave him a reassuring smile. “Everyone's journey is different in the road to forgiveness. And it’s important to have a support system, to know that you're not alone in your journey of healing and forgiveness.” 

“A support system,” Cyrus repeated, his mind reeling. “You mean, like a family?” Because if it only came from families, he surely would never have the support system Helio talked about. 

“Love,” Helio clarified. “People who love you. But you know, love doesn’t just have to come from your biological family. You can create your own family, Cyrus. Create the one you’ve always wanted. And love doesn’t just have to be familial.”

“Oh!” Suddenly, it clicked for Cyrus. He wasn’t sure why, but he’d never really thought of it that way. “That makes sense.”

“It can come in so many forms: platonic, romantic . . .” Helio shook his head slightly. “Obviously, you’re still young. There’s no rush to have any of that until you’re ready. But hey, I could be mistaken!”

Cyrus blinked at him in surprise. Then, he laughed. “Don't worry, you’re not! I suppose I was too focused on bringing back my family to think about that sort of thing.”

“Huh. Really?” Helio gave him a curious look. “Isn’t there anyone you like?”

When Cyrus stopped to consider it, he felt his ears grow hot. “Not really.”

It wasn’t a lie, he assured himself. It almost felt like one, though.

Just then, a sharp knock came to the door. Both of them jumped, turning back to the doorway. Helio glanced up at the clock on the wall, positioned behind Cyrus’s head. “Wow, 1:30 already? I must’ve lost track of time!” He flashed him an apologetic look. “I’m sorry, but it’s time for my next appointment.”

Cyrus’s eyebrows shot up. He’d been there that long? To him, it’d barely felt like twenty minutes!

Overwhelmed by all they’d just talked about, it took Cyrus a moment to climb to his feet. Once he did, he gave Helio a rushed “thank you!”, who promised his office was always open, if Cyrus wanted to talk again. And strangely, he almost did. The conversation had gone so much better than he ever could’ve imagined, and now, despite all the thoughts swirling around his head, he felt something else rising to the surface: hope.

The whole forgiveness concept didn’t seem easy now— not by any means— but maybe someday, it would. 

“And Cyrus?”

Cyrus, who’d reached the door, paused. He glanced back at Helio curiously. 

“Take care of Fort. You need him as much as he needs you.” 

Huh. The way Helio had phrased it made Cyrus wonder if Fort . . . did Fort talk about Cyrus in his counseling sessions? He pondered over this for a second, but he let the thought go. If he asked, Helio wouldn’t be able to give him an answer anyway, since the magic of the new world made him unable to. But in spite of that, some things were better kept a mystery.

“I will,” Cyrus promised with a smile, before slipping away. 

Apparently, there were several traditions that came with the Utopia school. Despite it only being two years old, the teachers liked to participate in different activities, like having magic duels between themselves and the students, or offering dragon rides once a week, at sunset (only with the dragons who were willing to let humans ride them, of course). Or, on a more simple note, going out as a group to get ice cream. 

To do so, they teleported to the town below, going to a real, totally-mundane ice cream parlor for the occasion. Although from what Cyrus had heard, they did this on occasion just for fun, they’d made it a tradition to go out for celebratory ice cream each time a new teacher came to the staff. On the first day the school had opened, they’d done the same thing, everyone — even Damian — going out together for ice cream.

So that afternoon, despite Cyrus’s lack of success day one in the teaching department, a group of the teachers had invited him out for the occasion. And since he was the newest teacher, it was all to celebrate him. He couldn’t believe it. After all the terrible things he’d done to them, they genuinely wanted to celebrate him teaching here? The thought was enough to leave an uncontrollable smile on his face, despite honestly being convinced he didn’t deserve it.

Still, he did love ice cream, so at least for that, Cyrus would go. And for the chance to hang around his former classmates and friends, which filled him with a nervous, yet equally optimistic sensation in his Old One-shaped heart. 

Nearly all the teachers came— more than he expected to show up. Among the group was Jia, Rachel, Sierra, Ellora, Gabriel, Michael, and of course, Fort. According to Fort, Gabriel wasn’t friends with the others, but since they were his brother’s friends, he hung out with them on occasion. Surprisingly, Fort didn’t seem to mind— at least, not as much as he would’ve almost four years ago, when he’d had a strong disliking for the boy. 

From what he’d told Cyrus, Fort still wasn’t a fan of Gabriel— neither were Fort’s friends, especially Rachel. Gabriel wasn’t a huge fan of them, either. But seemingly with time — and for his little brother’s sake, Cyrus was sure — Gabriel had been getting along more with the others. Proof that even if it’d been just a little improvement, he must’ve changed for the better. Plus, he did have Michael back, so that automatically made Gabriel appear as a less bitter person. 

That was how the evening started, the eight of them teleporting down to the nearest ice cream parlor together. Courtesy of Jia’s magic, they stepped through the teleportation circle one by one, spilling out onto a nearly-empty sidewalk. Directly in front of them was the shop, outlined with such huge glass windows that Cyrus could see everything inside; numerous plush booths and round tables dotted the space, filled with more ice cream-related decorations on the walls than he could count. 

Rachel, who’d walked through the teleportation circle first, wasted no time in pushing the front door open. A high-pitched ding! echoed through the air— the sound of a bell jingling twice, signaling their arrival to the entire shop. With an air of eagerness, everyone else piled in after her. Together, they flocked towards the ice cream flavors, which had so many options it made Cyrus’s head spin. Barely five seconds had passed before Rachel started firing off her order to one of the servers, who frantically began scribbling on his notepad, trying to catch every word.

Cyrus, vaguely bewildered and amused, leaned toward the person nearest him: Jia. 

“Does she always know what she wants that quickly?” he whispered to her, hoping to see her laugh. She did.

“Oh, yeah. Pretty much.” 

“Impressive.” 

He tucked his hands into his overall pockets. They stood towards the back of their cluster of friends, which was probably a good thing, because Cyrus — unlike Rachel — had no idea what to get. 

In front of them was a large mirror that expanded across the wall, with ice cream flavors written in sharpie across of it. He stared, and another Cyrus stared back. Under the fluorescent, yellow lights of the shop, his hair represented the color of lemons. Not to mention the startlingly bright strips of neon lights that outlined every crevice of the wall, dousing everything in a strange yellowish-pinkish glow. 

He zeroed in on the writing on the mirror itself, eyes flitting from flavors like raspberry to banana to cotton candy. He’d had ice cream various times in his life— most of them during his soul-searching world tour. But he’d never gone with a real group of (maybe) friends, and for that reason he was all the more looking forward to this. Cyrus knew nothing about the agenda of friendships, but sharing ice cream on a brisk October night was surely a good sign of a lasting one.

One by one, his schoolmates put in their orders. Strangely enough, all of their choices were vastly different from each other’s, which in the back of his mind, Cyrus added to his mental checklist of his favorite quirks about humans. 

While Ellora got a single, fairly plain flavor, Sierra’s choice was a polar opposite of her’s— birthday cake ice cream, with every topping imaginable teetering over the edge. Jia had gotten a fruity/berry-type flavor, Fort some black raspberry, and Michael an overload of chocolate— triple-chocolate ice cream, chocolate sauce, chocolate hundreds and thousands— you name it. And then there’d been Rachel, who’s elaborately-decorated four-scoop combo nearly sailed off her waffle cone. 

When it was finally Cyrus’s turn, he slowly approached the glass. He was aware of the others’ eyes on him, probably extremely curious to find out what kind of ice cream the Old One of Time preferred, watching him like it was some sort of carnival attraction. No, they just wanted to see what Cyrus wanted, he corrected himself. If he was going to carve the identity he wanted for himself, he had to think like Helio suggested— not automatically assume how they all perceived him.

After sweeping his gaze across the flavors, Cyrus made his choice. In less than a minute, the server handed him it, thanking him for not getting a horrendous amount of toppings like some of his friends had.

“My hand hurts from all the writing,” she’d explained, gesturing at her handheld notepad, which was completely covered in all their order requests. A mess of dark scribbles. Cyrus grinned.

Gleefully, he returned with a cup of ice cream in his hands, drowning in chocolate sauce and multi-colored hundreds and thousands. (“They’re called sprinkles here, Time Boy,” Rachel corrected him, when he announced what he got). Cyrus, too intent on digging into his ice cream, brushed off her comment. Taking one of the pink, plastic spoons the parlor offered, he scooped it into his mouth.

“So?” Sierra wondered, watching him take his first bite. “How do you like it?”

Good question. At first, all he could do was shiver as a cold sensation flowed through his mouth, freezing the insides of his cheeks. Luckily, the heat from the chocolate sauce seemed to even out that feeling, giving him more time to appreciate the mix of sweet flavors, which melted almost instantly in his mouth.

“Great snakes!” Cyrus drew back with a sudden gleam in his eyes, a grin tracing his face. “This stuff’s good!” 

There were a few scattered laughs. Ellora, with some confusion, added, “Have you never had ice cream before?”

“I have. Just not very often.”

Sierra patted Cyrus’s shoulder— it was probably the first time she’d ever physically touched him, whether from previously disliking him or feeling uncomfortable by his identity, who knew — and the sensation startled Cyrus just as much as it pleased him. 

“Oh, well stick with me, and you’ll be having way more than you’re used to,” she said, plucking a gummy worm off her pile and tossing it into her mouth.

“You make us come here a lot,” Fort said, in a sort of amused irritation. By ‘us’, did he mean only him and Sierra, or all the others too? Cyrus told himself it didn’t matter. 

“Hey, its not just for me! Ember also loves ice cream—“

Fort winced, like the idea of his adopted dragon daughter liking ice cream caused him physical pain. He glanced at Cyrus, giving him a rushed explanation. “But the last and only time we went with her, she tried to eat both the ice cream and the customers.”

Cyrus didn’t mean to, but he couldn’t help breaking into laughter. Knowing Ember, she really would do that. “That’s awful!”

Smiling, Fort gave Sierra a pointed look. “Which is why if she wants ice cream, she eats it on Utopia, not here.”

Sierra stuck her tongue out at him in return.

They all stood there, beginning to tackle their desserts, until Jia suggested they sit down together to eat. Out of the four booths in the parlor, three were taken, so the group flocked to the fourth one near the front. There, beyond the fog covering the large glass window, they had a front-row seat to the world outside. Dozens of people walked along sidewalks and into stores, set aglow by flickering street lamps. 

On a different night, without the company of his old friends, Cyrus might’ve indulged in one of his favorite, most mundane activities: people-watching. Now, he really loved just watching humans— and not for the misguided purposes he might’ve once had. Truthfully, they were just so interesting and full of life and love and potential, something that a lifetime of lessons had taught him to see. 

But since for once, he wasn’t alone, Cyrus gratefully kept his attention on the people sitting with him.

Gabriel didn’t stay long. Shortly after getting a milkshake, he claimed he had some work to do back at Utopia (though Cyrus thought him leaving more had to do with the people here). Regardless, everyone else stayed. He figured they’d finish eating quickly, collectively deciding to head back to the school, too. Half of Cyrus expected they’d be less open to talking freely, to enjoying themselves, since he was here. 

But that wasn’t what happened. What happened was they ordered flavors of ice cream until the small booth they sat around wouldn’t hold any more bowls, and Jia laughed for the first time in years at something Cyrus said, and Rachel kept steering tiny fireballs in the direction of Fort’s ice cream, which made her grin and made him scowl. It seemed nothing would dull their spirits. Cyrus’s chest felt full of something he couldn’t pinpoint, but whatever it was, he was glad it was there.

Because it was just the seven of them crammed in the little ice cream shop, and it all felt . . . right. 

All that time he’d been chasing his family and fighting his older self, he hadn’t known what he’d been missing out on. Maybe he had sort of known all along, but to Cyrus, friendship seemed like an impossible feat. Especially with humans. Now he questioned why he’d ever thought that this would be so impossible in the first place. And then he realized what that unfamiliar feeling in his chest was. 

Belonging. He belonged. He was going to belong. 

And if anyone had walked past, they would have seen seven kids laughing and stuffing ice cream in their faces, without a care in the world.

At one point, after they were unable to take another bite of ice cream, the others got up to discard their cups. All except for Cyrus, who lingered there for a moment longer, wanting to savor the last remains of his dessert. One second, he was scooping traces of hot fudge into his mouth, and the next, he felt the plush seat underneath him sink. Eyes lifting up, he saw Fort there, having squeezed in beside Cyrus. 

“What do you think?” his friend asked. Automatically, Cyrus gave him a thumbs-up, and went back to what he’d been doing. Then he realized what his friend may have been referring to— not just the ice cream, but this whole experience of being here in general. Coming to the Utopia school, being a teacher, being in the midst of his former friends. All of it. 

Carefully, Cyrus set down his spoon. “I like it here,” he confessed, a joyful smile spreading across his face. “The Utopia school.”

After Cyrus’s previous doubts toward teaching at the school, being around all the people he thought might despise him, the look on Fort Fitzgerald’s face was completely worth it. It might’ve been nighttime, but his rarely-widened smile turned the world to sunlight. His shoulder brushed against Cyrus’s, staying there. 

“Me too.” 

He wanted to stop time and stay in that moment forever (which truthfully, he really could do!). But life, as always, had other plans. 

Then Jia stepped in, an alarmed look on her face. “Hey, guys? You’re gonna want to see this.”

They followed her toward the other side of the shop, where the others were already starting to gather around, looks of shock painted across their faces. Cyrus followed their gazes, and his eyes landed on a flatscreen TV that was wedged between the ceiling and the wall. On it, none other than William was being interviewed by a news reporter. 

Rachel was the first to speak, her voice reeking of sourness. “Oh great. Not him.” 

No one replied. Dying to know why William could possibly be on the News, they all watched as the reporter raised the microphone close to her lips. “Is it true that you’re one of those creatures who destroyed D.C three years ago— an Old One?”

What?

Cyrus’s jaw dropped. The last time he’d seen William, he’d been looming over Cyrus, Spirit magic whirling through his veins. And he’d known William’s fate afterward— that he’d lose his magic eventually, when Fort touched him with Excalibur. From there, he’d be left defenseless against the TDA, who Cyrus had assumed would lock William up after everything he’d done. 

And here he was, definitely not magicless anymore. Free to do whatever he wanted. 

But the last thing Cyrus expected was for him to claim he was an Old One. It was the last thing he expected anyone in their right minds to do. Full offense to his family, but Cyrus couldn’t imagine wanting to admit he was apart of them. Not anymore. What he could imagine less, was any human admitting they were one, when they weren’t. Especially after all the horrifying things his family had done to torture humans (and Cyrus was sure there was still more he didn’t know about). So what was up with William? 

The microphone was eagerly shoved back into William’s face, and he nodded stoically. His silver, shoulder-length hair bounced in sync. “Ah, no. You see, I am not an Old One myself, thank goodness. But I know an Old One. The only one of those monsters who’s not currently locked up, and they’re letting him teach at the Utopia school. All of his students, unaware who he really is.” 

Cyrus felt all of his friends’ eyes travel to him, heavy and unrelenting. But he couldn’t look away from the TV, watching as his former friend smiled thinly at the camera, his eyes boring into Cyrus’s. “So, old friend, if you’re hearing this, I have a message for the world. How are you, Cyrus?”

No. Vaguely, Cyrus remembered hearing someone gasp. Maybe it’d been him. 

The reporter, though, just stared at William in confusion. Not a hint of recognition against her face. “Cyrus?”

“Yes,” William said, agitation seeping into his voice. But only for a moment, because the smile was back, twisted and vengeful. “Forsooth, let it be known that the Old One of Time is Cyrus, the new Time teacher at the Utopia school. So you’re welcome, citizens of the world! Lock that monster up while you still have the chance!”

The ice cream slipped from Cyrus’s hands and splattered to the floor. 

“I’ll stare directly at the sun but never in the mirror / It must be exhausting always rooting for the anti-hero.”

Chapter Text

growing pains (by mxmtoon) 

“Sometimes I wonder whether me when I was younger would like the person that I've become / 'Cause first impressions tend to last through adolescence."

Of course, there was an aftermath. Even if Cyrus, against all odds, hoped that there wouldn’t be.

After William’s dramatic reveal to the world that the Timeless One, one of the Old Ones, was teaching at the world-renowned Utopia school for magic, Cyrus’s schoolmates had assured him it wouldn’t be as bad as they thought. That News stories didn’t always blow up, either because people weren’t watching at the time or because the news was shrugged off as fake.

At least to preserve his optimism, Cyrus chose to believe them. Or tried to, anyway. But if he knew anything about news regarding Old Ones, any traces of them would strike the world with chaos. One thing about humans, Cyrus realized over time, was that they thrived on fear. Add one drop of fear into a human’s mind, put a threat to their safety, and it’d spread like wildfire. It was that reason he’d been so quick to believe humans would overthrow his home city of Atlantis— left with fear, greed, and a dash of threatened survival? The perfect recipe for a panic. Or according to his family, an attack they’d very much lied about. 

And since everyone — kids and adults alike — knew about the Old Ones’ existence now, the concept of William’s words not getting spread across the world was as unlikely as that so-called Harry Houdini being real. William had planted the perfect seed for revenge. He’d known it, and Cyrus had known it, and probably, so had everyone else in that ice cream parlor, even before anything happened at all.

The night before had left Cyrus in blissful darkness, unaware what reactions he’d face the next day. Would his students be afraid of him, now that they knew who he was? Would they even care? Scratch that, of course they’d care. Maybe they’d care too much, uncomfortable by the fact that the Timeless One was teaching them magic. And if that happened, would he still be allowed to teach? Or worse, would someone actually come along to lock Cyrus up, like William had ordered them to? 

If they tried, and that prison just so happened to be the Faerie Queen’s home, that meant his future vision would be fulfilled. Aka, an even worse kind of revenge. William would finally have an extra taste of satisfaction, because of course the things he’d forced Cyrus to apologize for hadn’t been enough, while he’d been under the control of Spirit magic. No, it hadn’t been nearly enough, because he’d wanted to hurt Cyrus. Really hurt him. And attempting to blow up his life just when Cyrus had finally started to redeem himself, to belong somewhere? That stung worse than anything. 

If he was as powerful as he used to be, Cyrus could snap his fingers and wipe William’s words from time. Make it so that none of that had ever happened, if it meant protecting his true identity. Sure, Cyrus was pretty comfortable with his former classmates knowing, especially now that he was on their side, back to being on fairly good terms. But everyone else, he figured, might not be so quick to accept that an Old One could be good. How could they, when most humans probably just knew the stories of the Old Ones’ horrors? 

You could be the exception of your family, Helio had said. Cyrus just hoped that the rest of the world could see that, too.

By the first morning, it was clear the news had started to spread. Whispers followed Cyrus across the hallways, paired with lingering gazes and a few glares. In his two classes that day, where he led his students through the process of future vision, there seemed to be an unmistakably thick tension in the air, like they were all waiting for something bad to happen. By day two, only half his students showed up. Even less on day three. The people who still chose to show up either didn’t care that an Old One was their teacher, or stayed because they really wanted to learn Time magic.

And that wasn’t all. Whispers in the hallways grew into confrontations, which seemed to follow Cyrus left and right. Occasionally throughout the days, helicopters would come circling around the Utopia school, somehow finding it high up in the clouds— only to be eventually shooed away by Ember and the other dragons. News reporters had started flocking to the school too, emerging from portals they’d made themselves. Apparently they kept asking for Cyrus, but his schoolmates always shut them down, sending them away. 

To avoid things blowing up more, Helio had advised against Cyrus talking to any reporters, saying they usually just made matters worse. Really, he’d advised against Cyrus leaving Utopia at all, until all of this came to pass. Eventually, he said, the reporters would give up and leave him alone. But Cyrus wasn’t so sure about that, or if ignoring them was the best solution to this. Even if the thought of being put in the spotlight like that — having his identity on full display — kind of made him squirm, wouldn’t it be best if he just . . . cleared up the allegations that he was evil? 

Though of course, he couldn’t be sure they wouldn’t try to twist his words. Or that the minute Cyrus showed his face, there wouldn’t be police and military lining up to greet him, prepared to throw him behind bars. Honestly, he had no idea what to expect. Either way, Cyrus’s life here was obviously slipping from his fingers. Fast. And that meant, above everything, that he had to find a way to fix this.

When he wasn’t in class or with his schoolmates, he spent most of his time alone, soaking up future visions. Right now, it was the only thing that brought him any comfort— even if the visions he saw weren’t always pleasant. But as Helio had explained in their second counseling session (something Cyrus genuinely needed, after getting his true identity announced to the world), that was Cyrus’s way of coping with the event. Or so he claimed. And while it did bring him more assurance to know what was coming next, that wasn’t the only reason he kept looking into the future.

“See anything?” Ellora called, her transparent body somewhere behind him. Cyrus, who was also transparent, had his head sticking out of the marble Utopia school wall. Literally, sticking directly through it. With their actual bodies still in the present time, they weren’t physically here, so he didn’t bother walking through doors unless he felt like it. 

Currently, they were two weeks and four days into the future, where they’d sensed more time-related activity. In this specific time vision, double the amount of reporters flooded the lawn of the school, including some military officers. From what he could see, almost everyone was outside, too. Teachers and students alike. He scanned the field for his future self, who wasn’t hard to find; his hair was so light it practically glittered in the sunshine, making it impossible not to miss. That, and he was surrounded by reporters.

So really, nothing new, based on what Cyrus kept seeing in the future. But that wasn’t what he and Ellora were searching for. Not completely. In this specific timeline, he’d sensed a presence here— almost like the presence of another time-traveler. At first, he thought it might be Merlin, or maybe another version of Cyrus. An obviously older version of Cyrus, because in the past before magic had been destroyed, he’d never seen this possibility happening. The Utopia school, the original magic coming back — all of it, had never been something his future visions had previously shown him.

So if there was another version of Cyrus here, it’d be a future version. One who already knew about this place. Though weirdly, he could sense that the other time-traveler here was not him. He knew that much. Which was why he and Ellora were here, searching for a different person in particular with a connection to Time magic.

“Practically the whole school’s out there,” Cyrus answered, pulling himself back in through the wall. “Lots of reporters, military . . . same thing we keep seeing.” He managed a smile. “Future me looks quite unhappy.” 

“Yikes. I don’t blame him. So the presence you felt isn’t outside, then?”

He tried sensing it again, attempting to pinpoint a direction. He definitely still sensed it— somewhere above them, to the right. Whoever else was here had to be inside the building. 

“They’re inside, definitely,” Cyrus confirmed. “Upstairs, from what I can tell.”

They navigated upstairs, which was emptier than Cyrus had ever seen it. Normally, there were always students and teachers flooding the halls, unless they were at lunch or in this case, all outside. They started by poking their heads in every room, trying to find any other clues or more specifically, traces of life in the future. Each section of second floor was split into different classrooms for various types of magic. They passed the section for Elemental and Corporal classrooms, before finally, emerging at the opposite end of the hall, where Time magic was taught. 

Unlike all the other types of magic, Time magic was the smallest designated section, with only two classrooms as he and Ellora were the only teachers. If all the others from the Carmarthen Academy were able to teach, Cyrus could easily picture about eight other classrooms here, allowing many more people to learn about Time magic. Of course, they’d all gotten lost in time as soon as they worked with that book of magic, so unless they’d put much more effort into continuing to learn about Time magic, Cyrus wasn’t sure they’d all have enough knowledge to teach.

(Then again, no one had as much knowledge as Cyrus about that sort of thing!)

Here, standing at the end of the hall, Cyrus felt the presence of another time-traveler grow even stronger. He could tell Ellora felt it too, as she threw Cyrus a slightly nervous look, before ducking into her classroom. Cyrus took a deep breath. Then, he moved inside his own classroom, leaving the door hanging open behind him. He glanced around, hands starting to glow black in preparation. But the more he looked, the more it became obvious that no one was in here. 

Huh? But Cyrus had felt something. He still felt it, like an uncomfortable itch in time itself that only grew. Whatever it was, something placed in this timeline didn’t exist with the rest of it.

Just in case he was missing anything, Cyrus ducked low, looking under desks and chairs for something, anything, that proved he wasn’t crazy. He was at the fifth row of seats, looking under the long, combined desks that students normally sat at, when footsteps came from down the hall. Within seconds, he saw Ellora appear at the doorway, coming over to him. “Hey, did you find anything?”

Laying sideways across the floor, Cyrus sat up. “Oh, no, not yet. Have you?”

The unconvincing shrug she sent him was enough of an answer. She joined him there on the floor, watching him look. “Look, I don’t wanna be the first one to say it. I felt something too. But maybe . . .” She hesitated. “Maybe it was something else, Cyrus. We might’ve misinterpreted what we were sensing.”

That brought a small wave of disappointment through Cyrus. As much as he didn’t want to believe it, Ellora was probably right. Whatever they’d been sensing had to have been a fluke in this timeline, misleading them into thinking it was the presence of another person traveling through this time. With a sigh, Cyrus started to reluctantly crawl out from under the desk. Only to pause as something shimmered from the ground, bathed in sunlight that streamed down from the windows.

He leaned closer, spotting something he hadn’t before. A strand of white hair, far too long to be his own. Carefully, he picked it up, showing it to Ellora. “Is this yours?”

She just frowned. “I don’t think so? I don’t usually walk in your classroom. Why?” 

Cyrus felt a chill run through him. “Ellora, I think this was what we were sensing.”

“What? But if it’s not from you or me, who else would it . . .” Something in Ellora’s expression changed as she seemed to realize it too, and they stared at each other, eyes wide. “We don’t know if it’s him.”

“It could be.” He glanced back at the strand of hair balanced between his fingertips. “And if it is . . . then that means at some point, somewhere in time, William was in my classroom.”

With the previous power he’d had over all Time magic, Cyrus could’ve easily figured out “when” within seconds. But things were different now. His magic, control he’d had over it and all, was different now. 

And so, the scary truth was: he had no idea when. 

As soon as he stopped the time vision, he saw his schoolmates clustered around him. They were sitting in the teachers’ lounge, which in all honestly, looked a lot like a regular teachers lounge. Tables and couches and even a candy-filled vending machine filled up the space. It was the same group who’d gone out to ice cream with Cyrus several nights ago, all who’d witnessed William outing Cyrus as a Timeless One on national television. Not something you could easily forget. And something that weirdly, had only bonded them closer together. 

Everyday since, they’d talked things over. They talked about William. About Cyrus. About the Utopia school. About what they should do and what they shouldn’t do. The more time passed, the more the news seemed to spread, probably reaching groups like the military and the government and whoever-else wouldn’t be pleased with this arrangement. Which meant they needed solutions. And a big part of those solutions meant unconvincing the rest of the world that Cyrus was on his family’s side, being prepared for what came next, and finding William. 

When it came down to the last two, that mostly dealt with the Time magic realm. So the past three days, Cyrus and Ellora (who were for obvious reasons, objectively the best at Time magic), collectively used their future vision to seek answers. So far, every scenario they’d come across had been more for the second solution, but not the first. While they’d come across a lot of potential events that would come next (more good than bad, in terms of reactions to Cyrus’s identity), there was no sign of William in the future. Like he’d disappeared off the face of the earth.

“Did you see William?” Rachel asked, eagerness in her voice. “Did you kick his butt?” She thrust her fist into her palm as she said this, mini sparks flying into the air.

Cyrus sighed in frustration. He looked between them, gaze unsteady as he blinked the vision away. “I can’t . . . exactly find him with my future vision. He’s hiding.”

“Hiding where?” Fort asked from where he sat next to Sierra, both of their backs leaning against the wall. 

Ellora, who sat cross-legged next to Cyrus, shook her head. “We don’t know— we didn’t see him anywhere. Clearly he’s not looking to stir up anything else in our future.”

“Then why announce Cyrus is an Old One to the world?” Jia asked, frowning. “He obviously wanted revenge. Why wouldn’t he be apart of anything else big in our future?” 

“Maybe because he’s a coward and knows he would lose in a fight against us, if he ever shows his face again,” Rachel said, huffing. 

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Her girlfriend grinned, taking a bite of her halfway-eaten tuna fish sandwich.

Instead of going to the cafeteria today, they’d collectively decided to eat lunch here, making a small picnic for themselves while searching for William. Strewn across the carpeted floor were tinfoil-wrapped sandwiches, glass soda bottles, and bags of potato, sour cream, and barbecue crisps. (Although Cyrus, not being a huge fan of the crisps here, magicked up his favorite British biscuit obsession: Jammie Dodgers).

“Did you find anything?” Sierra asked, in the middle of wrenching open a bottle of cherry soda. She let out a triumphant whoop once it finally came loose, fizzing noisily. Some of it spilled onto Fort’s shoe, who made a noise of disgust. She ignored him, eyes back on Cyrus and Ellora. “Like, any clues at all?”

The two Time teachers exchanged uneasy looks. After finding the strand of white hair in the time vision, they’d taken it back with them, hoping to analyze whether it was actually William’s. He wasn’t sure how much that knowledge would actually help them, but it was a start. And it would be the first clue they’d ever found regarding William’s location, so if it was him, there was definitely a chance he’d show up to the school at some point.

“You guys found something, didn’t you?” Rachel said in realization. The others had seemed to catch on as well, which didn’t surprise Cyrus. He and Ellora hadn’t hid it very well.

“Well . . .” Ellora began.

“Come on, show it!”

“Yeah!” Sierra added, grinning a little. “This is supposed to be a fun investigation, time-travely picnic, not a regular picnic.”

“Okay, okay. Fine! But we’re not exactly sure what it means yet.” The fellow British girl nodded to Cyrus, who reached inside his pocket, fishing around for the item.

“We found this, planted in my classroom.” He raised the long strand of white hair he’d found, and everyone but Ellora leaned in to look.

“That’s William’s?” Jia asked. Still only half-convinced of this, Cyrus gave a little shrug, tilting his head to squint at the strand of hair.

“I think so, but it’s just a theory. Seems like he knows we’re looking for him, doesn’t it?” he said distractedly, taking a bite of a Jammie Dodger.

Fort sighed heavily. Unlike Cyrus, he didn’t seem like he was able to eat anymore. “That’s just great. So if that hair is his, what does that mean?”

“I assume it means he’s either been watching me, or he shows up there in the future. Those are really the only options I could imagine, anyway.”

“What a creep,” Rachel muttered, and they all made noises of agreement. 

“But these are just theories, right?” Sierra said. “Is there a way we can test if that hair really is William’s? Like DNA or something?”

Jia nodded. “Yeah, we should be able to do that with Healing magic. We’d have to put it in the lab for a few hours to test, but it would tell us if that hair actually belongs to William.” She held out her hands, using magic to make a glass vial appear. She lifted it towards Cyrus, who carefully dropped the strand in, watching Jia close a lid over it.

“Okay,” she said. “I’ll take this to get tested as soon as we’re done here.”

Before Cyrus could thank her, or really say anything, the door to the teachers’ lounge burst open. And then Xenea came barging into the room, groaning as soon as she saw Cyrus. “You,” she said loudly, pointing at him. “Are very famous right now.” 

Letting her words sink in, Cyrus frowned slightly. “I am? In what way do you mean?”

“Oh, for the love of my queen.” Xenea rolled her eyes. “Some interviewer got inside the school, asking for the Old One. I had to send them away with my glamour magic— they were incredibly annoying, even for a human.”

“And how is that his problem?” Fort replied, irritation in his voice. “Its not Cyrus’s fault his identity got spread to the entire world!”

“Whoever’s fault it is, its annoying.” The faerie-woman’s eyes fell to the picnic they’d set up, as if noticing it for the first time. “Forsythe, what is this? Why are you all eating on the floor, like, well, pets?”

“Um, this is called a picnic. And we’re also having a meeting.”

Xenea’s face lit up. “Finally, some productivity around here! And I thought you were all slacking off. Make room, I shall help with this meeting. Clearly, you all need it.”

“Actually, you’re not really—“

But Xenea joined them there on the floor, wedging herself between Fort and Rachel. “Great! So what are we discussing?”

“Me, I suppose,” Cyrus told her, smiling a little too widely at her as she groaned again. Just like Helio once had, the faerie-woman made it very clear she didn’t like him very much. “Ellora and I were just looking into the future in preparation for upcoming events. There’s quite a lot of chaos coming, with my being here.” 

“Why just you and Ellora?” Xenea raised her eyebrows. “Anyone could do a simple time vision.”

“Because . . . we’re the best at Time magic?” Ellora said, a question in her voice. 

“Right, you both teach Time. And I guess when you have the Timeless One, why shouldn’t you let him do all the work?”

Cyrus was baffled. Was Xenea . . . defending him? “Wow! You mean that?”

She turned to him, sighing. “This isn’t because I like you, Old One. Your friends just aren’t very smart and still seem to forget they can do all types of magic.” 

“Hey, we haven’t forgotten!” Rachel protested. “We do other types of magic all the time. And I’ve used Time magic, but that doesn’t mean its my favorite or that I’m super amazing at it. Now Elemental magic?” She nodded proudly, letting a spark drift between her fingers before flickering out. “That’s what I’m best at.”

“Hmmm.” Xenea did not seem entirely convinced, but didn’t push it. She glanced at the boy next to her, poking his shoulder. “And why don’t you ever use Time magic, Forsythe?”

Fort made a face at that. “Uh . . . it’s not really my thing. I’d rather not know what’s coming for me.” 

Cyrus gave his friend a confused look. “But it’s so helpful. Like this morning! I ended up taking the long route to the cafeteria today to avoid that News lady. By knowing ahead of time what’s about to happen, you’d make different choices.” He coughed slightly. “And in my case, choices that, ah, won’t make matters worse.”

Fort just shrugged. “Still, that’s different. You look into your future all you want, but I don’t wanna mess with mine.”

“More than you already do, you mean,” Sierra joked, and he tried kicking her in the shin. Laughter tumbled from her mouth. 

“Shut up!”

Stomping footsteps came from down the hall, crisp and clear. Once again, the door to the teachers’ lounge was opening, someone coming inside. That someone turned out to be Gabriel, who was looking down, dark hair curtaining his face. It was strange to see him in here; he wasn’t a full-time teacher, as he didn’t seem to care too much about that stuff. Mostly, he just helped out with Michael’s Destruction class, in addition to teaching Summoning sometimes on the side.

After entering, he stopped, staring at the little picnic circle they’d formed with raised eyebrows. Clearly he hadn’t expected so many people to be in the lounge on an early Thursday afternoon. Gabriel gestured to them. “What is all this?” 

“A meeting,” they all replied in unison. 

“. . . About?”

Xenea just sighed. “You probably could guess. We’re discussing the Old One.” 

“Wait, I’m sorry but . . . he wasn’t invited to this meeting,” Jia pointed out. “And neither were you, Xenea.” 

“Yeah, yeah.” The faerie-woman waved a hand, morning light from the windows turning it an odd mint green color. “Sit down, Gabriel.”

Despite the slight noises of protest coming from some of the group (Fort and Rachel, mostly), they reluctantly allowed Gabriel to join. Soon, it became clear that this meeting was no longer about the William situation, which mostly concerned just Cyrus and his friends. Gabriel had steered the conversation into a direction more known to the public: what were they going to do about the Utopia school right now? How were they going to get all of this unwanted attention away from school? Or more specifically, away from Cyrus. 

Barely five minutes had passed before someone entered the teacher’s lounge again, their attention drawn to the group on the floor. This time, it was Sebastian, who just scoffed at the sight of them. “What are you all doing in here? Don’t you have classes to teach or something?”

“Not for another . . . twenty minutes,” Ellora said, checking her watch. 

Three others pushed the door open— the Chads, and Sebastian pointed at them. “Literally, why is everyone in here?”

“We’re having a secret meeting,” Rachel said, sticking her tongue out.

One of the Chads — Trey — who was in the middle of banging on the vending machine, grinned. “Ooh, can we join?”

“No way!”

“But we’re already here! If you’re doing a secret meeting, don’t have it in the teacher’s lounge.”

“Hey, you said something actually coherent for once,” Rachel said smugly, and Jia, Sierra, and Fort covered up laughs. 

“Come on, I babysit your daughter for you, dude.” He gestured to Fort, who just sighed deeply. 

As Trey continued banging on the vending machine, Bryce made a face. “Bro, isn’t he like, our age?”

“Not real daughter— his adopted dragon daughter, Ember.” A fond smile overcame his face. “We always play this game called ‘hide and hunt’ together. She loves me.”

“Ohhhh—“

“Okay, can we just get back to the meeting?” Jia said with a sigh. Their group turned back to each other, ready to continue, until— 

“Wait, so what is this meeting for?” Sebastian asked, from where he was still standing next to the door.

“We’re meeting about Time kid’s situation,” Gabriel explained, nodding his head in Cyrus’s direction. Everyone groaned. 

“Hey, you’re not allowed to just—! You weren’t even invited to this meeting,” Fort retorted, and the older boy just rolled his eyes.

“Whatever. They have a right to know. I get that we’re trying to help him stay, but it feels kinda pointless, doesn’t it? He is an Old One. If our students don’t like that, then there’s nothing we can do.”

“Yes there is,” Fort hissed, looking offended on Cyrus’s behalf.

“Come on, I’m just saying what everyone’s thinking.” 

“That, I can agree with,” Sebastian spoke up. 

“See?” Gabriel gestured to Sebastian, as if emphasizing his point. Jia had told him earlier this week that the two boys were good friends, and only now, could Cyrus believe it.  

“Literally who invited either of you to this meeting?” Fort grumbled. This was all becoming too much for Cyrus. Had they all just forgotten he was right there, sitting with them? 

Between the crowdedness of the room and Gabriel’s words, Cyrus was getting more uncomfortable by the minute. The words rattled around in his brain, and deep down, he knew Gabriel was right. Though that didn’t mean it didn’t upset him to hear it. Abruptly, he stood, and everyone’s eyes snapped to him. Cyrus’s mouth went dry. He looked unsteadily between his schoolmates, breath hitching. “I . . .”

Everyone was staring. Watching. Waiting. Even the Chads had stopped what they were doing, no longer trying to bang open the vending machine. His discomfort grew, an uncomfortable twist in his stomach. “I should go.” 

“Cyrus—“ Ellora began. 

Before anyone could stop him, he walked out of the teacher’s lounge, bursting into the hallway. He didn’t stop there. He kept walking, not even sure where he was going. Just that he had to get away from that room, where there were far too many people talking about him. Emotions rocketed through him: worry, fear, embarrassment. Overpowering all of that, though, was frustration. Everything was supposed to just fall into place, as soon as he came to the new school for magic. Why couldn’t anything be easy?

You deserve this, a voice in the back of his head reminded him. You betrayed them all, once. But even that barely dented his current feelings. Not after how far he’d come to improve himself. That had to count for something, because not changing was almost always easier than trying to change.

Cyrus’s feet stopped moving. Glancing up, he realized his legs had taken him to his classroom, completely empty for now. Finally, in the quietness of it all, he felt like he could breathe. He nudged the door open, stepping through. Right before it closed, he stopped it with his heel, cracked it open another two inches, and left it there. Just so his students, whenever they arrived, would know he was there.

If they showed up.

With a sigh, Cyrus went to sit at his usual stool, placing his head in his hands.

“Merlin,” he mumbled to himself, wishing he could yank his future self directly to him, wherever he still existed in time, and ask him some questions. “What do I do? You told me not to leave the school, if I wanted to avoid getting sent back to the Faerie Queen’s prison. But how am I supposed to stay if they all want me to go?”

Cyrus waited a few minutes, almost expecting the old man to appear before him in the classroom. But just like usual, Merlin was aggravatingly unhelpful. Seriously, he was on Merlin’s side, now. Couldn’t his future self just . . . be better at guiding him? After all, neither of them wanted Cyrus to be imprisoned alongside his siblings, subject to the worst kind of fate with the most horrible people of all time. 

A creak sounded at the door. Footsteps coming from the entrance. When he looked up, he realized his friends had followed him. Just his friends, instead of everyone that’d been in the teacher’s lounge. Among them was Fort, Jia, Rachel, Sierra, and Ellora, who somehow had all known where he’d be. A strange surge of surprise flooded him. If anything, he would’ve only expected Fort to check on him; he and the others had only just started becoming friends again. Still, knowing they were here, he was thankful all the same. 

“Come on, don’t listen to Gabriel,” Sierra said, reaching him first. They weren’t close, barely even friends yet, but she still had unwavering concern in her eyes. “He’s just saying dumb stuff, okay? That’s mostly like, all he does. Seriously, he’s just as bad as Damian, sometimes.” She tried for an easygoing grin, and Cyrus returned it the best he could. 

Ellora sighed. “He shouldn’t have said that. Seriously, it’s like the most unhelpful thing he could’ve said.” 

Cyrus’s grin slowly faded. “Well, it’s quite . . . an idea.” His eyes grew wider. “The school wouldn’t actually consider kicking me out, would they?” 

Based on everything that’d happened, he was afraid they’d say yes. But to his relief, his friends shook their heads. “Things are going to get better, Cyrus, not worse,” Jia said.

He nodded. He wanted to soak in his usual optimism, but . . . there were too many but’s. “You guys don’t know that. Look at all that’s happened— all that my future vision’s showing me.” 

“Then, maybe just stop looking at your future visions,” Fort hissed, a slight irritation to his voice. “Just ignore what the future says. That stuff doesn’t matter.” 

Surprise filled Cyrus. “What? But then I won’t know . . .”

“If things will get better?” Rachel guessed. Again, he nodded. 

Fort made direct eye contact with Cyrus. “It will.”

He believed them.

The next week passed by quicker than Cyrus expected. Not much about his situation had changed since. His students were dropping like flies, even after Cyrus assured his class that he was trustworthy. Some had believed him. Some had stayed, which was enough to lift Cyrus’s spirits, since that still left him a handful of people to teach. At least there was that. But compared to the amount it’d been originally, having only about fifteen students now was just a little disappointing. 

Outside of Utopia, Cyrus’s public image had not seemed to change, either. It also didn’t help that his friends kept showing him News updates on their phones, which had spiraled out of control since William’s first announcement. From what the press was saying, comfort levels weren’t exactly high right now, to know that one of the Old Ones was teaching at the Utopia school. 

Things weren’t getting better— not yet. To add to it, they still couldn’t locate William in the future, a detail that made Cyrus and his friends about ready to burst. But one of the things that kept him hopeful was the upcoming Halloween celebrations, which had greeted him faster than he expected it to. And boy, was he excited. He’d never had the full experience before, both since Oppenheimer had barely acknowledged holidays, and because Halloween had never been as popular in the parts of Great Britain that Cyrus grew up in. 

(Another excuse was that he’d been busy battling Merlin and trying to bring back his family. There was also that!) 

Fort had made plans to go home for the occasion, and invited his friends to come with him. They’d be staying overnight too, meaning that aside from Cyrus’s times sleeping in boarding school dormitories (which didn’t really count), this would be his first ever sleepover. Sure, he and Fort literally shared a room now, but the idea of actually sleeping at Fort’s house? That was a completely different story. 

Honestly, even though their relationship was a million times better than it had been three and a half years ago, Cyrus still couldn’t help being surprised by the invite. Or by the fact that his friends, who were continuing to warm up to him, were comfortable enough to let him join. He had to keep reminding himself that the progress he’d put into these relationships was real, and he was trying to get himself to accept that they liked him now. It just might take time for him to get used to it. 

Even though Fort visited his dad a lot (and vice versa) he seemed especially eager to go home for Halloween, claiming it was his family’s favorite holiday to celebrate. Usually, their way of celebrating was just devouring candy and watching scary movies. But this year — after some convincing from Rachel — Fort had begrudgingly agreed to trick-or-treating. Only since his friends would be coming. 

But, Cyrus thought, his friend had secretly looked a little excited for the chance to trick-or-treat. Cyrus hardly knew anything about it, other than the fact that people usually needed friends to trick-or-treat with— and in the past, Fort had not seemed like the type to have many friends. Either way, it was about to be an amazing experience for all of them. Cyrus couldn’t wait. A place where there was no William, no News reporters, no judgement over him being the Timeless One. Just the chance to have fun with his newly-regained friends.

Exactly where he wanted to be.

On the late morning of Halloween, Cyrus found himself sitting on the floor, packing items into his only bag for the weekend. Realistically, he didn’t have to pack much. It wasn’t like he was going to a hostel or a hotel, like he’d become accustomed to staying in during his world tour of self-discovery. Utopia was the longest he’d stayed anywhere in the past almost four years. But none of the places Cyrus traveled had been a friend’s house. It was cool to travel anywhere. 

He’d been looking for something fun to bring, like a game they could all play, when the door burst open. Expecting it to just be Fort, he greeted him without looking up. “Hey, Fort.”

“Hey,” said another voice, higher-pitched and very much not Fort. 

That made Cyrus glance up. While he did see Fort there, he hadn’t expected to also see Jia and Rachel— the first girls he’d ever seen in the boys’ dormitories. Remembering just how strict Oppenheimer and the Carmarthen schools had been about girls and boys entering each others’ dormitories, Cyrus crinkled his eyebrows at them, a bit nervous. 

“Are you all allowed to be here?” he asked.

“What?” Rachel said, almost sounding offended. “Oh, you’re talking about the old girl/boy separation policy. Yeah, we don’t have that here. That’s like, the first rule we established, so we could sneak into Damian’s room and put whipped cream in his face anytime we wanted.”

Fort rolled his eyes. “You couldn’t even do that if you wanted to. The doors are sealed, so you can’t get into someone’s room unless you live with them.”

Rachel grinned. “Hasn’t stopped us before. Anyway, we mostly just come into Fort’s room when we’re over here.”

“Did you have a roomate before?” Cyrus wondered aloud, looking up at Fort. Weirdly, he’d always just assumed Fort hadn’t had a roomate before Cyrus. Maybe because throughout almost their entire history of being friends, they’d always been roommates. Aside from the time Fort had been assigned to be roommates with Gabriel, it was strange to think of Fort living with someone else.

“Not really,” his friend replied, blushing for some reason. “I kinda commuted from home for a while during our first year here, so I’d get to live with my dad.” He didn’t meet Cyrus’s eyes. “I probably would’ve kept doing that, but then you were moving in and needed a roomate, so . . .” 

“What?” Cyrus stammered, shocked, as Jia and Rachel collectively wore wide smiles. “I didn’t know that! I would’ve been fine living with some other roommate.” 

“Or they could’ve been someone who disliked you,” Jia pointed out. “Not that you’re dislikable—“

“Anymore,” Rachel added, and her girlfriend nudged her in the ribs.

“But everyone kinda knows you’re the Timeless One now. So we all thought you’d be better off having someone you’re already friends with as your roomate. Just to make your transition easier.”

Cyrus looked between his three friends, pure wonder and disbelief coursing through him. They’d done that for him? Even more, he couldn’t help feeling a little guilty. All this time, he’d just assumed Fort being his roomate again had been a last-minute decision, on the other boy’s part. Not that his friends had organized this whole thing, all to help Cyrus feel more comfortable in the process of living here. The feeling that outweighed the others, though, was the warm sensation in his chest, only growing as he looked at these people— especially Fort. 

“Thank you,” Cyrus said finally, eyes going from Jia to Rachel, before lingering on Fort. Trying to express how much he appreciated them, how lucky he felt to have them in his life again, even though he fully didn’t deserve them. “Really, this means so much to me. You guys are the best. I didn’t deserve all that.” 

“Eh, you probably didn’t.” Fort shrugged, but the increasingly warm, if not reluctant smile he directed towards Cyrus told him he was joking. “Still, we wanted to. I also . . . might’ve missed being your roomate.” 

That made Cyrus beam, a shaky laugh escaping him. What Fort had admitted had been exactly what Cyrus had been thinking over the last week— only, he hadn’t found the courage to express that out-loud. Now, eagerly, he did. “Me too.” 

Which of course, earned an awwww from Rachel and Jia, heightened by Cyrus’s joy and the annoyed looks Fort threw at them. Hands on her hips, Rachel added, “And you’re right— we are the best! Mostly me.”

Jia snorted in response.

“So, when are we leaving?” Cyrus asked, watching his friends with a sunny expression. “I promise, I’m almost done packing.”

Their reactions weren’t what he was expecting. Instead of answering right away, they exchanged looks, smiles fading from their faces. Just from that, the Timeless One’s heart began to drop. What weren’t they telling him? A thought occurred to him, making his heart sink more. Had they decided they didn’t want him to come anymore? Had he misinterpreted his mending relationships with them? Was there a chance they still didn’t feel comfortable with him hanging around?

Before Cyrus’s thoughts could go any souther, Jia spoke first. “That’s what we came here to talk to you about. With how things have been lately, we think it might be best if you stayed behind on this one.” She and the others looked genuinely sorry.

“I’m not following,” Cyrus said carefully. “What ‘things’ do you mean, exactly?”

“You know, with how the public’s been treating you,” Fort filled in, easing his confusion. “Its been a week since the William incident, and the whole world is still going insane about it.” He rolled his eyes at this. “And you haven’t even left the school, so imagine what it’d be like if we’re outside trick-or-treating, and reporters or someone worse show up to ruin everything?”

Jia nodded. “He’s right, Cyrus. The best thing we can do right now is minimize your publicity. One mistake could make it so much worse.” 

On the floor, Cyrus nearly laughed, relieved that this was the reason his friends didn’t want him to come. Not because he made them uncomfortable. This was amazing! Then everything else settled in, and he briefly closed his eyes, clenching them shut.

Disappointment bloomed inside him. It made sense to stay here. He knew it made sense. But a part of him had been genuinely so excited to do this whole Halloween thing— which he knew was a bigger holiday in America, compared to the UK. And also, it was simply one of the human traditions he’d barely batted an eye at, as up until now, he’d forever remained focused on much bigger plans that involved future selves and preventing paradoxes and bringing back banished family members. Leaving some of the more mundane, meaningful human experiences left undiscovered. 

More than all of that, he’d been looking forward to doing something fun with his newly-regained friends, making up for years of non-hangouts. This wasn’t fair.

When Cyrus opened his eyes again, he saw his friends frowning at him. Did it make him feel better that they looked just as disappointed? It did. It did, but not by much. 

“Sorry,” Fort muttered. “I know how much you wanted to come with us.” 

He knew. He did know. They’d talked about this constantly over the past week, Fort exchanging stories of usual Halloween traditions for each of Cyrus’s questions. He’d just started to wrap his head around the idea of trick-or-treating— that there was only a treat, and no actual trick, and had laughed at the silly irony of that phrase, which hardly made sense to him. Now, all the new things he’d wanted to experience, like pumpkin carving and trick-or-treating and wearing costumes would have to wait. 

Cyrus waved a hand, giving him the faintest of smiles. “Hey, it’s okay. I need to stay hidden, at least until all this blows over.”

Without warning, Rachel let out a gasp. Though her’s seemed to be out of excitement— an odd contrast to the mood they were all in. “Hold on, that gives me an idea. Cyrus, you’re a genius!” 

He laughed in confusion. “How?”

“You can still go out, just wear something that makes you unrecognizable! You could wear a costume that covers your face.”

Cyrus’s eyes lit up. He hadn’t thought of that. From the skeptical expression Fort was wearing, Cyrus thought he might protest. But he didn’t. Everyone agreed that as long as Cyrus remained hidden to the public, it was a good idea. Even better than good— it was perfect. 

Then came the debate of what Cyrus should be for Halloween, seeing as he might have to change his original costume idea to something more . . . hidden. Originally, he decided he would dress up as the Hungarian-American escape artist and magician, Harry Houdini. That man was mythical enough, wasn’t he? 

But after some explanations that his costume idea would not include a face covering, Cyrus had to resort to other options. After talking it over, he and Fort decided to come up with a costume they could both do, as long as it wasn’t — in Fort’s words — “super embarrassing or over-the-top.” It was Cyrus who suggested they dress up as the characters from one of the comic books they’d read together, back from when they were at the second Oppenheimer school. 

What he hasn’t expected was for Fort to agree to it, let alone look sort of excited by the prospect. In the end, they decided to seek inspiration from the Ghostbusters comic, the very first one they’d ever read together. While Fort would be dressed as an actual ghostbuster, Cyrus — for the sake of protecting his identity — would dress as a ghost. Which according to his friends, was the easiest costume he could’ve possibly chosen. Even without using magic to just conjure up his costume, Cyrus could’ve easily cut two holes in white bedsheets. Which he would’ve done, if he hadn’t wanted to ruin his own. 

(Again, why was Halloween such a big deal to humans?)

Several hours later, Cyrus and Fort were stepping through a teleportation circle that led directly to the inside of Fort’s house. Sierra, Jia, and Rachel would also be coming (Ellora hadn’t felt like trick-or-treating), but they wouldn’t arrive until later, closer to the time they’d said they would all trick-or-treat. Of course, Ember had come along too, as she usually came with Fort whenever he spent weekends at home, like he’d be doing now.

While Ember stayed downstairs doing who-knows-what, Fort gave Cyrus a quick tour of his house. Apparently they’d lived with his Aunt Cora for a while, as after Fort’s father returned, they’d lost their house and plenty of their other possessions. But ever since the old magic had been restored to the world, they’d been able to easily magic up enough money for a new house. Which according to Fort, was close to where their old one had been.

“And this—” Fort said, leading Cyrus to a closed door, across from his dad’s master bedroom. “—is my room.” He threw the other boy a sheepish look. “Sorry if it’s messy. I haven’t been here in a while.”

Cyrus just smiled back at him, hands raised. “Hey, I won’t judge!”

Slowly, Fort wiggled the knob and pushed the door open, allowing Cyrus’s first-ever literal doorway into Fort’s room. And the moment was strangely unceremonious. Well, for Fort. For Cyrus, whose glimpse into Fort’s home life were the spare pictures taped onto the walls on his side of their shared dormitory, searched the room with a half-curious, half-gleeful intrigue. 

His fingers traced the spines of the books on his shelf, to the small decorations and stored boxes stacked in the closet, which despite their ordinariness felt cherished, special, knowing it was Fort they belonged to. There was something unshakeable about having a place you belonged, filled to the brim with human possessions, and Cyrus craved that in only the most inexpressible of ways.

“You don’t have to look at everything,” Fort said, a blush against his face as he watched Cyrus wander the room. “None of our other friends who’ve been here did that.” 

“So?” Cyrus replied, moving to Fort’s dresser. If anything, that only made him want to explore his friend’s room more— who wouldn’t want to look at all this stuff, knowing who it belonged to? “I like seeing your things.”

And he leaned over to peer at an old, framed photograph of Fort’s mom and dad, completely missing the fond look the other boy was giving him. Making his way across the dresser, Cyrus smiled at a little ceramic, black cat statue— obviously meant to look like Ember, before touching a tray of seashells, likely stolen from the beach. “Where are these from?”

“What?” Fort replied absently. He was rummaging through his backpack for something, seated at the foot of his bed. He glanced up to see where Cyrus was looking. “Oh, those. I think I got those when I was seven. My dad took me to the beach for a day.”

“They’re pretty neat!” 

He captured a conch in his palm, turning it over to look at the inside, flecks of old sand amidst the baby pink shade. And he did what he always did when he picked up conches; pressed it to his ear, listening for the sound that mirrored ocean waves. He could hear it— the ocean singing in a tireless chorus. Fort hid a smile when he saw him do this, and for just a moment, Cyrus watched him, much in the same way he had the shells. 

It was moments like these where Cyrus liked to remember how far their friendship had come, how unimaginable something like this would have been after previous unspoken betrayals. Maybe he was overthinking it, but every moment they shared together felt more progressively gentle and accepting compared to the last, turning over new leafs many times over as they peeled back half-hidden real selves to show one another. 

The sound of keys jangling elsewhere in the house startled both Fort and Cyrus. Mr. Fitzgerald was home. Oh yeah, Cyrus had almost forgotten. Fort had said his dad would make them dinner before they left. And his father’s meals, from the sounds of it, were usually whipped up with magic because it made life ten times easier. As someone who rarely cooked, Cyrus didn’t blame him. Sure, he’d found limiting his magic usage to be pretty satisfying during his world travels, but that didn’t mean he’d hold back from using magic for something like food, if no other options were around.

It wasn’t anywhere near the time they had to get ready, so the two boys went downstairs, meeting Fort’s father in the kitchen. The sound of clanging dishes and silverware greeted them, as did a sweet-smelling aroma that made Cyrus want to inhale forever. He expected normal dinner food, but was met with an odd sense of delight to find breakfast food strewn across the kitchen table. Cyrus had witnessed plenty of unusual things in his lifetime, probably more than anyone ever had, and yet, this baffled him. 

“I didn’t accidentally time travel us to next morning, did I?” Cyrus whispered to Fort, eyeing the steaming plates of eggs, waffles, pancakes, and toast. Outside was still reasonably light out, so there was no telling whether Cyrus actually had used magic without realizing it. Stranger things had happened! 

“What?” Fort stared at him. Then, seeing Cyrus’s eyes locked on the breakfast food, he seemed to realize what he meant. “Oh, no. My dad likes to make breakfast for dinner sometimes.” He raised an eyebrow at Cyrus. “You’ve never done that?”

“Nope!” Cyrus replied. “Not in the way you’re thinking.”

Confusion rang in Fort’s voice. “. . . Okay?”

“Well, I’ve heard of other British people doing this, but this kind of thing seems so American! Oppenheimer never did this sort of thing, huh?” He tossed his friend an eager look, who just rolled his eyes reflexively. 

“Don’t get too excited. My dad makes this like, every week. You might get sick of it pretty quick.”

“I don’t know,” Cyrus said, inhaling deeply again. “It smells wonderful.” 

Just then, Fort’s father came around the corner, holding silverware. As he set it down, he grinned at the boys, moving to hug Fort first. “Thought I heard you up there! Wow, look at how much you’ve grown.”

“Hi, Dad.” Fort laughed as he hugged his father back. A sort of unusual relaxation took hold of Fort, one that Cyrus rarely witnessed at school. But that was the effect being with his dad seemed to have. He added, “Also, you saw me two weeks ago. I’m pretty sure I’m the same height I was last time you saw me.”

Watching them, Cyrus felt a small ache in his heart— an ache that he always felt, witnessing any family treat each other with a blissful sense of love and care. He honestly couldn’t remember if his own family had ever hugged him like that. His friends had in the past, sure, but something about his own family expressing love in a physical way always felt so foreign, yet incredibly desired, to Cyrus. More and more, he thought love was beautiful and was made to be kind and even if they were here together he wasn’t sure they’d ever see it that way.

Still, this moment wasn’t about him. It was about Fort and his father reuniting, no matter how small the reunion was. Why did Cyrus’s thoughts always have to turn back to his family?

At last, the hug ended. Mr. Fitzgerald turned to him next, so Cyrus smiled up at him a bit nervously, expecting a handshake, which they’d used last time to greet each other with. His nerves fizzled away, replaced by gleeful surprise, when the man leaned in for a hug. It wasn’t nearly as long or as hard as the hug he’d had with his son, but it was just as meaningful to Cyrus.

At Cyrus’s reaction— initially unmoving, due to his surprise— there was a warmth to Mr. Fitzgerald’s voice. “What, you think I wouldn’t have a hug for you, too?” 

“Oh!” he said, settling into his embrace. This felt so nice, and he couldn’t hold back his widening smile. “Okay.”

Soon, after answering a few dozen questions about how school was going, they were seated around the kitchen table. In seconds, a heap of waffles found their way to Cyrus’s plate, overflowing with half-melted butter. Next to him, Fort was doing a terrible job at spreading strawberry jam across his piece of toast, partially because Ember sat on the floor next to him, consistently trying to eat the toast from Fort’s hands. All the while, Mr. Fitzgerald kept asking Cyrus more questions, like the last places he’d traveled and how adjusting to Utopia was.  

“It’s cool,” Cyrus had answered— because aside from the trouble the past week had brought him, it was cool. Well, not cool like The Beatles and comic books and time-travel were cool, but cool like it was cool that he was living here now.

“Cyrus, you want syrup?” Fort’s father asked at one point, as he unscrewed a glass-coated bottle, labeled Blackberry Patch. 

“I’d love some,” Cyrus said. Seeing as Mr. Fitzgerald was moving to drown his own pancakes in syrup first, he waited for his turn. But when Fort’s father poured out the maple syrup, a liquid the color of creamsicle orange poured out instead. Cyrus’s eyebrows knitted in confusion. “That’s . . . syrup?”

The man grinned. “Pumpkin-flavored syrup, for Halloween.”

“Pumpkin, huh?” Wow, Mr. Fitzgerald was so cool.

“He does this every year,” Fort said. The way he said it made it seem like he was tired of it, but the little smile on his face gave it away. Clearly, no matter how much his dad embarrassed him, he loved him so much.

“Amazing,” Cyrus said, as he poured the pumpkin syrup all over his own waffles. He leaned toward his friend. “Your dad just gets better and better, Fort. No wonder you were always in such a hurry to rescue him!”

Slight sarcasm dripped from Fort’s voice. “Oh yeah, it was all because of the syrup. Not because he’s my dad or anything.” 

Cyrus blushed. “I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant . . .” 

“I know.” 

After dinner (or breakfast— he wasn’t sure what to call it anymore), they made their way back upstairs to get their costumes ready. Under normal circumstances where they didn’t have this new magic, Fort explained, they would’ve had to get their costumes from the Halloween store. But that wasn’t the case, so with a little bit of magic, they conjured up their costumes. Just like that, they were fully-fledged characters from the Ghostbusters world.

The ghost costume laid flat in Cyrus’s hands, looking exactly as he’d requested. Basing it on his friends’ descriptions of what it should look like, he’d magicked up a plain white sheet with two holes for eyes. Yeah, that really was the easiest costume he could’ve done!

Finding the opening, Cyrus let the sheet cascade over himself, adjusting the positioning until he could see through the eye slits perfectly. When that was finished, he turned to Fort, who was already wearing his costume. “How do I look?”

Fort examined him. “Not bad.”

“Not bad! I look better than just not bad.” From beneath the sheet, Cyrus pushed his hands out, doing a wiggling motion with his fingers. “Scary?”

“Oh, yeah.” His best friend snorted. “Terrifying. Almost as scary as your Timeless One outfit.” His eyes widened, voice flooded with guilt. “Not . . . that you were . . . ugh, I shouldn’t have said that.”

”No, you’re right, Fort.” Cyrus nodded. “I did look scary. I was scary.” 

He thought of before, of the way Fort looked at him after discovering he was the Timeless One. Looked at him like he was a monster, and rightfully so. The way Fort looked at him now . . . sometimes, Cyrus thought, he took it for granted. Three years ago, he’d have given anything to make Fort smile at him again. It’d taken exactly five hangouts into the early rebuildings of their friendship to make that happen— and four more to see him laugh. Now, the other boy smiled at him almost everyday. The switch had been slow, painful, but worth everything. 

“You’re not,” Fort said earnestly. “Not anymore, at least.” As Cyrus stared at him, a warm fuzziness growing in his heart, he realized they’d been drifting closer to each other. His best friend’s eyes softened. “Not to me.” 

That made Cyrus blush, knowing Fort wasn’t embellishing the fact that his appearance had been scary. Truthfully, the cloaked form he’d taken as the Timeless One had most definitely appeared scary to his friends. Since he’d been trying to hide his real form, which basically just looked human, he’d taken the initiative to make himself look more like his family. The forms he was used to them as. They all looked scary (well, to humans), so why shouldn’t Cyrus try to, as well? That was only part of the very, very long list of things Cyrus regretted, and more, was embarrassed he’d done in the past. Still, knowing Fort wasn’t being intentionally mean, he brushed off his comment. 

“Fort . . .” Cyrus began softly. Trying to put into words what this all meant to him, but his friend seemed to get it. Something about their topic of conversation made him feel exposed on a variety of levels, so he decided to change the subject. 

He took a moment to admire Fort’s costume— an exact replica of the outfits from the comics and movies, complete with a proton pack and everything. He leaned in, peering at the letters on Fort’s jacket. “Hey, you got it to say Fitzgerald! That’s pretty cool.”

Fort looked a little proud of himself. “Yeah, I guess. I just asked the magic to make it for me.”

“Great idea.” Cyrus turned to look at the mirror hanging above Fort’s dresser, letting their reflections soak up his vision. Even though he knew they were Fort and Cyrus, the versions in front of them almost looked like totally different people. “You look like a real Ghostbuster right there. Spitting image!”

Fort almost laughed. “Come on, I do not—“ His phone buzzed, making him pause. He brought the screen up to his face, tapping it once to read the text. “Oh, our friends just got here. They said they’re out in the street.”

“Already?” Cyrus’s eyes widened.

“Hey, trick-or-treating starts earlier than you’d think.” Placing his phone in his pocket, Fort moved toward his bedroom door, waving for Cyrus to follow. “But actually, we’re kind of doing something else first. Let’s go.” 

"Sometimes I question when I look at my reflection, if the person looking back is really me."

Chapter Text

Ghost (by Gerry Cinnamon) 

“Turn into a ghost if you wanna disappear / Take back all the words you whispered in my ear."

In the recent years, Cyrus’s life seemed to revolve around first’s. First friend: Fort Fitzgerald. First time betraying someone: when his friends, in one way or another, discovered his true identity as the Timeless One. First time being betrayed: when he discovered his family’s true nature towards humanity— along with the fact that they’d lied to Cyrus, all his twelve years of life, about the fact that the so-called human invasion wasn’t what led to the fall of Atlantis. First time seeing the home he originally came from: a day trip to Atlantis with a resentful ex-best friend and a somewhat-annoying faerie-child. 

Now, though, as the direction of his life changed drastically, Cyrus’s first’s boiled down to things much more mundane. And strangely, even more meaningful. Like tonight, for example. First time wearing a Halloween costume. First celebration of the Halloween holiday, with real friends. Most likely, the first time he’d eat more candy than he could digest. And first sleepover at a friend’s house— more evidently at Fort’s house! — which out of everything made unexpected butterflies flood Cyrus’s stomach, impossible to be tampered down. 

The carpeted stairs creaked as he and Fort gravitated downstairs, preparing to meet the others outside. Already, Cyrus felt his heart racing in anticipation. Nothing had really happened yet, but this was the part he’d been looking forward to. A night filled with trick-or-treating and more, surrounded by the people in the universe who seemed to enjoy his company the most. For now, he put his worries about William, his worldwide identity reveal, and his future at the school to the back of his mind. Tonight would be a break from all of that. 

Making it downstairs, they ran into Ember, who was sitting near the door. Her black wings were folded as she comfortably curled up by a bowl of candy Mr. Fitzgerald had put out, decorated along the rim with smiling Jack-o’lanterns and filled to the brim with colorful candy bars. 

“Is she coming with us?” Cyrus asked. 

Based on what he knew about trick-or-treating, he wasn’t convinced this would be something Ember would enjoy. He knew candy was already bad for cats, so likely was bad for dragons as well. Besides, from what he knew about Ember, he was pretty sure she might prefer to eat the other children over actual candy. And he knew first-hand what it was like to be at the receiving end of one of Ember’s hunts (she’d tried to eat him a few times after that fateful day in the desert, and Cyrus had never been certain she wasn’t kidding). 

“I’m staying here,” Ember answered for him. “I will be helping Father’s Father answer the door to trick-or-treaters.”

Fort grimaced. He bent down, hand pressing gently against his dragon daughter’s scaly face. “Try not to scare them too much, okay? Remember how last year went.”

Ember snorted, and a tiny bit of fire blew from her nostrils. “Children are more used to seeing dragons now.” She nuzzled her head into Fort’s hand. “But I do enjoy scaring them.”

Unmistakable fondness was in Fort’s voice. “I know you do.” He sighed. “Just don’t go overboard— be nice, and don’t eat anyone, and make sure your Grandpa watches you. I mean it, Ember.”

“You worry too much, Father. You’re like the most worried father on the planet. But I do not hold it against you.” 

“Thanks . . . I guess,” Fort told her, half sincerely. He tossed Cyrus a look like, See what I have to deal with?, and Cyrus failed to hold back a wide smile. He always loved witnessing this side of his friend— well, the softer, gentler side that Fort seemed to only show around Ember. 

Catching his eye, Ember made a small rumbling sound in her throat, which sounded a lot like laughter. “Father’s Timeless One thinks so, too.”

“Hey, I said nothing,” Cyrus objected quickly, when Fort turned to face him again. His friend didn’t look convinced, though didn’t seem to miss the way Cyrus’s eyes squinted gleefully beneath his ghost sheet, enjoying this whole thing much more than he could say. Ember’s words repeated in his head. Father’s Timeless One. He didn’t know why that phrase brought him so much joy.

Instead of replying to him, Fort looked back at Ember. “Promise you won’t eat anyone. Please? For me?”

“You are not very intelligent, Father, if you think you can keep me from hunting. The other dragons take me, but hunting is more fun when you are with me.” 

“Please? I’ll take you hunting as soon as we get back. I promise.” 

Ember sighed in defeat. “I will try to be good,” was her only response. Fort shook his head at her, and though he was turned slightly away from Cyrus, his raised cheeks indicated he might be smiling.

With that, they moved toward the door, ready to meet their friends outside. Before Fort could open it, footsteps came from down the hall. Cyrus glanced back to see the outline of Mr. Fitzgerald, calling to them. “Wait! Before you leave, let me get some pictures of you two.” He held his hand up. “Stay right there. Let me get my camera.” 

Fort looked mortified. “Dad, seriously, you don’t have to . . .” He trailed off. His father had already retreated upstairs.

“You know what? This is our first picture together,” Cyrus said in realization, which for some reason, made his friend grow even redder.

“It is?” The way he said it made it sound like he’d just come to the realization, too. “Wow, you’re right. No one really took pictures of us— of any of us— back at Oppenheimer.”

“Yeah, ‘cause we were all ‘top secret military school’ back then! I’m guessing you guys get lots of pictures now, though?”

“Uh, we do,” Fort replied, then looked a little guilty. “I mean . . . usually just on our phones, since we can actually use them at Utopia. But I think our pictures are also in some newspapers and stuff like that.” He sighed, his tone apologetic. “Sorry you’re not in any of them.”

“It’s okay. We’ll turn that around, starting now.” Cyrus paused, hands on his hips. “Assuming I even show up in this photo, because I am a ghooost—“ He ominously drawled out the last word, and Fort clamped his hand over Cyrus’s mouth (or tried to, since it was hidden by his sheet), making them both break out into soft laughter. 

“Picture time, kids!” Fort’s father’s voice rang out as he reappeared in the kitchen doorway, holding a camera. Fort seemed to want to sink into the floor.

“Okay, but just take a few,” Fort said, smiling a bit nervously. 

“A few . . . hundred?” his father joked, seeming to relish his son’s less-than-enthusiastic expression. 

Regardless of the amount, the idea of getting pictures with his best friend made Cyrus feel almost giddy. Fort’s dad positioned them in front of the door, the camera in his hands going off in a constant flash. Calling things like, “Don’t be so stiff, Forsythe!” and “Pretend like you’re enemies. You know, to sell the costumes.” For the sake of their matching costumes, Cyrus kept his sheet over his face. Until Mr. Fitzgerald insisted he get his face in some of them. 

Cyrus wasn’t used to posing for pictures, but he had to admit, this was a lot of fun. Even Fort seemed to almost be enjoying it now, despite his clear embarrassment from before. A lot were just of them smiling together, while others were purposely meant to look scary (in a silly way), like when Mr. Fitzgerald ordered them to pose like Dracula, and Cyrus held up his sheet to dramatically cover half his face. After their last pose, backs almost touching as they held up finger guns, Fort insisted for the fifth time, that they’d taken enough.

“Enough, for now,” Mr. Fitzgerald corrected. “I’ll obviously get more of you and the rest of your friends later. I’m sure they’ll want pictures, too.” 

That made Fort sigh. “Fair enough. They probably will.”

“Will I show up in those?” Cyrus asked, pointing to the camera. “You know, since I’m a ghost and all? You’d think I’d be invisible.” 

If he wanted to, he could've meant that literally. And they didn't have to use books of magic or spell names anymore, but if he had used magic for this occasion, he could've cast Ethereal Spirit, the Healing spell that made your body insubstantial, letting you swim right through solid objects. Now that anyone could do any type of magic, Cyrus could've cast something similar . . . assuming he could even correctly perform such a complex Healing spell. That was more of Jia's forte, or maybe even Fort's, but not Cyrus's.

His comment earned a laugh from Fort’s father, and he saw Fort crack a smile next to him.

“That’s a very good point,” the man said seriously, like he was actually considering that possibility. He leaned closer, voice lowering. “You know, out of all Forsythe’s friends, I like you the most.”

Cyrus’s face grew warm. “You do?” The one who’d once betrayed Fort in the past, that was his father’s favorite of his friends? Of course, Cyrus regretted it now, but still! Who in their right mind would like Cyrus the most?

“You say that to all my friends, Dad,” Fort cut in, much to Cyrus’s disappointment.

“Well, can’t they all be my favorite?” his dad countered, and Fort’s eyes rolled in the way that had become so endearingly familiar by now. He was already opening the door and stepping through it, leaving Cyrus no option but to follow, waving a hasty goodbye to Fort’s father.

“Bye, Dad!” Fort called. “And please, watch Ember. I’m a little nervous she might try to recreate last year’s Halloween.” 

Mr. Fitzgerald winced at that. “Don’t worry, Fort. I’ll watch her. Have fun, okay? And don’t keep your friends out too late.”

“I won’t!” Fort was already marching down the porch steps, the front door shutting behind them. 

They made their way across the lawn, reaching the black-top street in seconds. Out in the road, the sky was painted with strawberry clouds and a sinking, tangerine sun. Even though it was early in the night, Fort had been right about trick-or-treating starting. Already, children were wandering across the neighborhood, dressed as pirates and fairies and everything in between. Especially tonight, the world seemed to be touched with a little bit of magic— not the real kind, of course. But something that Cyrus had found, he’d felt time to time growing up here.

Finding their friends didn’t take long. Fort had texted them to meet deeper into the neighborhood, a few houses down from where Fort’s was. They were sitting on the curb talking, but seemed to notice the other boys coming over to them right away. Just like them, they were fully decked out in costume— and Cyrus was both excited and a little relieved to see what their outfits turned out to be. Relieved, because they’d teased him they would collectively dress up as Merlin, which Cyrus had been horrified about.

Thankfully, none of them actually had. Their real costumes were way cooler than anything he’d ever dreamed of. 

Cyrus’s eyes swept over his friends. Sierra was dressed as some incredibly-cool punk rock, sunglass-wearing zombie, while Rachel wore a red bandana across her forehead and a dark red jumpsuit, with what appeared to be a glistening ruby gem glued to her hand. As for Jia, she wore a long dress layered with multiple shades of blue. She must’ve used magic to temporarily color her hair, because her naturally dark hair had been replaced with electric blue strands. Similar to Rachel, she also had a gem glued to her palm— only her’s was blue. 

“You guys look awesome,” Fort said, looking at Sierra first, who grinned back at him.

“Yeah! You’ve really outdone ourselves,” Cyrus added, unable to stop admiring their costumes. It made him honestly wish he’d put more of an effort into his costume, regardless of how simple his was supposed to be. Beneath his ghost sheet, he raised his hands. “I feel underdressed!” 

They all laughed at that.

“Nice Ghostbusters outfits,” Sierra replied, snickering a bit. “You guys actually look super adorable.” 

Fort opened his mouth, looking like he might let out an annoyed protest, only for a hint of embarrassment to flash across his face. He turned his focus to Jia and Rachel, seeming to pay attention to their costumes for the first time. “What’re you two supposed to be?” he asked, his tone snarkier than he’d probably intended. 

Rachel looked offended. “We’re Ruby and Sapphire from Steven Universe! You know, the show I’ve tried to make you watch many, many times? It’s our couples’ costume.”

Slowly, Fort started to blush. “Oh, sure, right. I remember them now.”

She snorted. “You definitely don’t, but whatever.” With a clap of her hands, she added, “So! What are we doing first? Trick-or-treating? Haunted houses? What’s the plan?” 

“Well, both of those. But I was actually thinking of doing something else first. My town does this haunted hay ride every year— me and my dad used to go all the time when I was little— so I was thinking we could do that first?” 

“Sure, that sounds fun,” Jia said with obvious excitement, the others nodding in agreement. Including Cyrus, who didn’t know what a haunted hay ride was, but had to assume it was some kind of fear-based attraction made by humans. 

Sierra flashed an impressed look at Fort. “Nice idea, Fitzgerald!” She turned to look at the others. “Hey, you guys wanna know something about Fort? The first time he went on that haunted hay ride, he was four, and he got so scared that he peed—“ 

“Whoa, hey, enough of that!” Fort quickly interrupted, eyes widening, before he used his own magic to transport them away— probably saving himself from further embarrassment. Green Summoning magic washed over them, Fort’s neighborhood replaced by new surroundings. Suddenly, they were standing in a different part of town, where a large, orange banner hung from two trees, impossible to miss, the words Welcome to The Halloween Festival written across it.

Everything he looked at filled Cyrus with awe. He found himself gawking, almost as much as he had during his first and only visit to Atlantis. He’d seen a lot across time, but he was sure he’d never seen anything this lively. His gaze flitted from the storefronts buried in spooky decorations to the pumpkin fairy lights hung between the trees, casting everything in a faint orange glow. Sounds of bright laughter blended together with The Monster Mash, blasting from hidden speakers.

Everyone, even adults, were in costume, strolling past Cyrus as human-sized hot dogs or witches or even ghosts, who commented appreciatively on Cyrus’s costume, much to his delight. Vendors had set up stands for different activities, and they walked past signs for things like pumpkin decorating, costume contests (which Sierra, Rachel, and Jia claimed they wanted to do), apple bobbing, face-painting . . . basically, Cyrus found himself wanting to do everything. 

Lastly, of course, there was the sign for hay rides, where they were going. Following the sign, they wandered towards the edge of the square, where a wagon attached to a tractor was parked by the woods. Hay ride. Cyrus blinked as he connected the dots. Strangely, exactly what he’d been expecting.

“Oh, you guys weren’t kidding,” he heard himself say to Rachel and Jia, the two nearest him. “This is some kind of ride.” He raised an eyebrow. “But where’s the hay? And the haunted bits?”

Jia squeezed his arm. “You’ll see.” She paused, eyes widening. “By that, I don’t mean look into the future. You need to be surprised for your first time.”

“Yeah,” Rachel added. “It takes out half the fun if you’re not left in suspense.”

“Just like my mystery novels!” At the girls’ questioning stares, Cyrus decided he should explain himself further. “I kind of refuse to use my future vision when I’m reading mysteries. Really takes the fun out of it, I gotta say.”

“Oh, then yeah!” She grinned. “That’s exactly the same for this. As long as this haunted hay ride is actually scary!” Rachel raised her voice at that last sentence, looking ahead to Fort and Sierra, who walked in front of them.

“It is, Rachel!” came Fort’s slightly annoyed reply, which made all three of them snicker.

Cyrus flashed his friends both a look, bottled with half-wariness and half-excitement. Jia and Rachel returned his gaze with knowing smiles.

Already, there were quite a few people on the wagon, leaving just enough extra space for the five of them. Cyrus climbed in after Jia, squeezing in between her and Sierra. He settled into the curtain of hay beneath his feet, which prickled his legs and arms, causing an almost ticklish sensation. Strangely, it reminded him of all the times he’d traveled to the Middle Ages, sometimes sleeping in hay barns (surprisingly comfortable!).

Once all the passengers were seated, the tractor started to roll forward, pulling the wagon along through the darkening woods. A man at the front of the wagon jumped up, standing over them with impressive balance, even as they hit a few (literal) bumps in the road. “Welcome to our annual haunted hay ride. I hope you’re all ready to get scared. Who here likes ghost stories?”  

There were a few cheers and raised hands, one of them coming from Sierra. She leaned towards Cyrus, smiling a bit reluctantly. “I’m, uh, guessing ghost stories are your thing?”

“I do happen to love a good story,” Cyrus whispered back with a smile, a little surprised they were talking directly to each other, since they didn’t do it often. “I might also be a bit biased tonight, seeing as I’m dressed as a ghost. So I sorta have to be, don’t I?” 

She snickered at that. Across the wagon, he caught Fort giving them an odd, almost discomforted look. Before Cyrus could stare back for very long, the man at the front continued speaking. “Let me tell you all the story of the man who haunts these woods.” He gestured to the woods around them, and everyone grew quiet, hanging onto his every word.

“For those of you who have been on this chilling haunted hay ride before, I’ve told this story for the past three years. This year, I’m going to tell it a little differently. Once, as we now all know, there was a time where all humans did magic . . .”

A series of gasps swept across the wagon, Cyrus included. But unlike some of the others, his was from excitement. This was probably the first time he’d ever heard an adult tell a story related to the magic that’d once been used by humans long ago, before the books had been created. This was a fictional story, obviously, but it easily made him ten times more engrossed in the story.

He exchanged wide-eyed looks with his friends. He saw Rachel and Fort whisper something to each other, before the man spoke again. “This man’s name was Mr. Achard, and he lived hundreds of years ago, visiting these very same woods. You see, his wife had gone missing in this part of the forest, so he searched for a spell that might bring her home. Or he’d die trying.”

He went on to explain how the man had used a Space magic spell, in an attempt to find his missing wife. But the spell had caused Mr. Achard to disappear, who was said to now roam these woods as a spirit, along with his wife. Luring visitors to the woods to go missing in the same way, never to be heard from again. 

Cyrus, lover of stories and once-inducer of spookiness himself, didn’t feel that scared. If there was any supernatural being in these woods, he was quite certain that role went to himself. Even so, he felt a chill go through his body as the woods grew darker, the only sounds being everyone’s shallow breaths.

Before Cyrus knew it, they were brought back to where they started, parking back outside of the woods. Which by now, had grown fully dark. As he waited to get off the wagon, he glanced back at the gaps between the trees, at the way the trunks stretched tall, branches winding together like spiderwebs. If he looked long enough, he almost swore he could see a figure somewhere in the distance.

And then his friends were moving to get off, sliding out of the wagon one by one. Back in the more pleasant, upbeat atmosphere of the Halloween festival, Cyrus felt the slight tension in his muscles start to dissolve. 

“You didn’t seem that freaked out,” Fort commented from behind him as they hopped off the hay ride, brushing traces of hay off their clothes.

“Whose to say I’m not?” Before he knew what he was doing, Cyrus reached for Fort’s hand, pressing it against his chest. “Feel that? Heart. Racing.”

They fell into silence, and for a moment, all Cyrus could focus on was Fort’s hand underneath his, soft and tender and oddly warm, given the chilly October air. His stomach twisted. He expected himself or Fort to pull away instantly, but neither made the first move. He felt Fort’s gaze on him, still and wide. He felt his own heartbeat then, through Fort’s fingers, thumping harder and harder. For probably longer than was necessary, Cyrus kept his hand there before his friend wrenched it away, the strangeness gone. 

“Fine, I’ll take that as proof,” Fort said with a slight, breathless grin. He couldn’t see Cyrus’s face beneath the sheet, but he wore a wide smile back at Fort. Despite the coldness of the air, Cyrus’s face was feeling unusually warm.

Without another word, they bounded up to rejoin their friends, teleporting back to the neighborhood Fort lived in. With one haunted attraction over, it was time for the most anticipated part of the night: trick-or-treating. Which as Cyrus learned, was much simpler than he’d initially thought. There really was no trick involved. All they had to do was walk up to the front doors of houses, either requesting candy with a swift knock on people’s front doors, or grabbing handfuls of candy bars from bowls positioned on the porch, despite there being a sign to “only take one.” Through it all, other kids or adults would compliment their costumes, making Cyrus feel only slightly uplifted to be wearing something so plain.

They’d only visited a small handful of houses, bags barely filled with candy, before they reached the next house over, catching Cyrus’s attention immediately. Like many of the other houses, this one seemed to be drowning in Halloween decor. Fog drifted across the lawn, while fake lightning lit up the inside of the windows. And then, he noticed something odd. Instead of going up to the front door for candy, children were entering the front door. And they were not coming back out.

Okay. Slightly concerning.

The five of them had stopped in front of the house, clearly seeing what Cyrus was seeing. But nobody brought it up, so he asked, “Is there a reason people keep entering that house and not coming out?”

“Ooooh, typical Halloween occurrence. Maybe they’re getting brutally murdered,” Sierra joked, and the others laughed, while Cyrus did his best to join in. He must’ve still looked confused, because Sierra’s eyes seemed to fill with recognition. She added, “Nah, they’re doing that because it’s a haunted house. Have you been to a haunted house before?”

Cyrus nodded. “Oh, yeah! Not any from this time period. When I was younger, I did happen to see one of the first haunted attractions, in 1915, called the Orton and Spooner Ghost House. I didn’t go inside, but it more seemed like one of those carnival fun houses.” He shrugged. “Not very scary, if you ask me.”

“Yeah, it probably didn’t have all the higher tech stuff we use for attractions nowadays,” Fort said, crossing his arms. “I’m guessing that was in America?”

“England, actually.”

“I thought you said haunted houses didn’t exist in England!”

Most people would have rolled their eyes or facepalmed at a statement like that. But right now, Cyrus only felt the urge to laugh. “Fort, I said not as many existed in England. Not on America’s level. It’s like comparing a flea to an elephant!”

Fort just stared at him, before letting out a breath. “Well . . . okay. That makes way more sense, actually.”

“However, I also heard that some of the haunted houses here are real haunted houses, filled with actual, live ghosts that follow you home.” Cyrus just smiled, before clapping a wide-eyed Fort on the shoulder. “Something to look forward to tonight!”

“Funny. Very funny, Cyrus!”

Enjoying this a little too much, Cyrus walked past him, not missing the way Fort glared at the back of his head. Or the way Sierra was giggling beside Fort, the two of them whispering to each other. 

In a spur of the moment decision, they all decided to tackle the haunted house, and Cyrus could almost sense everyone’s mixture of excitement and fear. A pair of twins were in front of them, wearing what seemed to be one costume of peanut butter and the other of jelly. The door creaked loudly as they opened it, which as far as Cyrus could see, looked out to an incredibly dark hallway. Tentatively, the peanut butter and jelly duo entered the house. Cyrus and his friends slowly followed, their footsteps creaking against the wooden floorboards. 

As far as he could tell, someone actually lived here— they’d just decorated their house to look extra scary. Inside, cobwebs hung from the chandelier and strung across the windows. Every now and then, lightning would light up their surroundings, casting their shadows momentarily against the walls. Aside from dimly lit candles on the floor (and of course, the lightning), all sources of light were gone from the house, forcing them to squint and stumble. 

In front of them, peanut butter boy and jelly girl had disappeared, fading into the dark hallway. Cyrus felt his heart begin to race. Now it was really dark. They continued on, pushing forward, until— 

“GAH!” A figure in a mummy costume had leapt in front of them, and everyone screamed in surprise. The next thing Cyrus knew, he and his friends were running blindly through the house. At every turn, he started to come to expect it. Someone, or something, would jump out to scare them. 

And sure, Cyrus found he’d always jump, but it also helped that he started cheating a little bit, using his future vision to quickly tell when the next jumpscare would be. For that reason, he was . . . well, outwardly less freaked out than his friends. Who seemed to realize this, too. After figuring out Cyrus was the only one of them not consistently screaming his head off, they decided to put him at the front of their group, letting him lead their descent through the house.

Just as they neared the exit, a skeleton appeared out of nowhere, screeching at them. While the others scrambled to get past it, he couldn’t help staring in fascination, once his initial shock was over. Whoever made this haunted house must’ve used magic, because the skeleton’s mouth seemed to be moving all on its own, practically floating above them in the darkness. And it was a human who’d created this, no less. Magic in a human haunted house. 

Cyrus was enthralled. He always tended to be, when he discovered some amazing new human thing to prove his family wrong, but this was extra incredible. Maybe some kind of Time/Corporal magic was at work? Growing curious, Cyrus reached up to touch the skeleton, only for a distressed-looking Fort to come racing back toward him, grabbing a distracted Cyrus’s arm. 

“Cyrus!” He groaned. “Come on!” Fort pulled him into a run, leaving Cyrus no choice but to follow. Glancing down where Fort’s hand was, Cyrus’s stomach fluttered. Seeing as he was in a haunted house, it was probably not the reason his stomach should be fluttering. 

The two of them made a beeline for the exit, crashing back out into the crisp night air. Past the lawn, they successfully made it back to the safety of the street, where their friends were waiting. For a moment, they all just stood there, breathless and (for some of them) shaking. Both Sierra and Rachel broke into laughter, while Fort and Jia looked about ready to pass out. As for Cyrus . . . well, he’d be lying if he said he hadn’t calmly started to unwrap a Reese’s that sat at the top of his candy bag, sliding it into his mouth. His friends stared. 

Jia raised her eyebrows at him. “How are you not scared right now?” 

Cyrus just shrugged, waving his hand. “Oh, I’ve seen loads of worse haunted houses than this. In the 17th century? Some people went properly missing in houses like these. You know, like actual haunted houses, not these fake ones.” His friends fell into a shellshocked silence, and he added, “Hey, I’ve seen a lot! Across all of time. I just don’t get scared that easily.”

“Coming from the Timeless One?” Rachel snorted, throwing him an amused look. “Yeah, not surprised. Mark my words, I will find what scares you tonight, Future Man.” 

He flashed a slight grin at her. “Good luck with that!”

“You know, I’ve seen you scared before,” Fort said, appearing beside Cyrus as they marched to the next activity. “A lot of times, actually.” He started counting on his fingers. “First when you warned me about not going to the Dracsi dimension to find my father, then when Rachel took away your magic with Excalibur, then on Atlantis, then when Merlin—“

“Wha— Fort!” While the others cracked up, Cyrus shot him a dirty look, which was unfortunately hidden by his costume. “I thought you were on my side!”

“Not tonight, remember?” His roommate said, patting the proton pack machine on his back. “I am like, a ghostbuster. And you’re a ghost. Sorry, but I guess we’re back to being enemies.” 

The silver-haired boy laughed. “Aw! Well, our friendship was fun while it lasted.” He patted Fort’s shoulder. “I guess it’s time for me to go back to my equally ghastly family, seeing as I’ve got no other option.” 

Something changed in Fort’s expression. Slowly, he began to smile, as if he knew something that Cyrus didn’t. “Actually, I think I might know why you’re not as scared right now.”

“Oh yeah? Why?”

“. . . You used your Time powers in there, didn’t you?”

Behind them, his friends gasped. 

Busted.

“What? Oh, now why would I do that?” But Cyrus could tell they all saw through his lie; he was trying hard not to grin.

Fort flicked a Snickers at him.

Just like that, they returned to trick-or-treating for the rest of the night. Or at least, for as far as they could go before they inevitably reached the end of Fort’s neighborhood. It wasn’t huge, but it was certainly big, and nearly every house seemed to be offering candy. Along the way, Cyrus marveled at everything: from the way the stars glimmered above them, to the constant laughter flowing from everywhere around him, bubbling out of everyone within a thirty-degree radius. Oh, and he was positive he’d never seen Fort smile this much.

Who knew a holiday where you could wear a costume and get free candy could bring so much . . . joy? Of course, Cyrus had suspected it, based on everything he’d heard about Halloween in the past. But getting to experience it was something entirely different. For maybe the first time in forever, Cyrus found himself blissfully forgetting who he was. He felt far away from the version of himself years ago, enormously lonely and bitter, and scared he’d never get to have his family. All the while, the truly important parts of life passed him by, which made Cyrus grateful to start experiencing them now. 

If everything worked out in the future, he hoped he’d get to do this with his friends every year. Whether it was trick-or-treating, or haunted houses, sharing ghost stories, or any other Halloween activity that Cyrus had yet to do. And maybe every year, he could try something new with his friends. That is, if everything stuck around. It almost seemed too good to be true— the idea that he could keep his friends this time around, that for once he would not be alone. Never in Cyrus’s life had that been the case, where there was a constant he could rely on, but maybe, just maybe . . . he let himself hope. 

The next hour passed by in a blur, as they traveled from house to house, bags growing increasingly heavier in their hands. Even if Cyrus couldn’t back down from eating anything sweet, he was beginning to wonder if the candy in his hands might be too much. At least, it was becoming too much for his wrists, which were equally a little sore from carrying so much candy. And whether it’d be too much for his stomach? That was a later problem. He probably would end up eating all of it, anyway; when they got back to Fort’s house, they were planning on candy trading— another Halloween tradition, according to his friends.

(Rachel had already asked Cyrus to give her all his Skittles, which he wasn’t much of a fan of).

They were walking in the middle of the street, heading to the next house, when it happened. He’d been wedged in between Rachel and Jia, happily listening to them assign each of their friends powers (or gemstones?) from the Steven Universe universe— the animated show the two girls’ costumes were inspired from. Cyrus had never heard of it, so didn’t really know otherwise, but according to his friends he’d be a Sapphire— the only type of gem with future vision. 

They were in the middle of discussing what Fort could be, listing off his many character traits — more negative than positive — which left everyone giggling aside from Fort, who did not look very happy. Nor did he seem to appreciate when Sierra listed things in support of Jia and Rachel’s theories, as she knew all of Fort’s thoughts and memories like the back of her hand.

“You guys just love to make fun of me!” Fort complained. Still shaking with laughter, they agreed in unison. 

And then, as they marched up to the next house, it happened. Cyrus’s eyes drifted across the other kids, admiring their costumes, when his gaze caught on two children in particular. Wait . . . what? That wasn’t what he thought it was, was it? Something was strangely familiar about their costumes, something he couldn’t put his finger on. Whatever it was, it captivated Cyrus. He stopped dead in his tracks, barely noticing as his friends continued on, still deep in conversation. 

Distantly, he heard Jia’s voice as she tried holding back more laughter. “Come on, Sierra, this isn’t funny.” 

“Um, yes it is, if you put it in context with the time Fort was in plays,” Sierra was saying.

Rachel turned to him, astonished. “You were in plays? Plays, plural?” 

“Well, kind of? I used to perform at regular, non-magic school, but I usually preferred being a techie—“ Fort began, which sent them all laughing again, missing the very annoyed looks he was giving them. “Hey, all right! It’s not funny, okay?”

But Cyrus was no longer focused on his friends, as their words became drowned out. All of his focus went to the two children, who at that moment, leaped away from the sidewalk, getting doused immediately by a streetlight perched above them. Abruptly, his giddiness vanished, all the blood rushing from his face. Because as artificial light washed over the children, what Cyrus thought had been a trick of the mind, had not been a trick of the mind.

Horror filled him. They were dressed up as Old Ones. Sure, they were quite obviously kids’ costumes, with the fabric not nearly as detailed as the real thing. But he’d recognized Ketas’ tentacled body and Q’baos’s hundreds of screaming human-like faces anywhere. The costume version wasn’t meant to be scary-looking, but it sent a deep chill through Cyrus that resonated down to the tips of his toes. This was his family humans were dressing up as. It made him feel sick to his stomach.

The two kids a couple years younger than Cyrus appeared to be waiting in front of a house. They were waving impatiently at someone. “Come on, Nate, let’s go! We gotta scare more families into giving us all their candy!”

“Coming!” shouted a third voice, and Cyrus watched as another kid came into view, huffing as he carried his sack of candy. But as soon as he saw what the boy— Nate— was wearing, it felt like he’d been slapped in the face. The boy was covered in a dark red cloak, wearing one fake skeletal hand and one black gloved hand. Drawn on his forehead, dripping with yellow paint, was an infinity symbol. It was like staring into a mirror. A mirror of his twelve-year-old self— the last time he’d ever worn those clothes proudly. 

He was dressed as Cyrus. His real, original name, Emrys. The Timeless One.

Cyrus was not easily spooked by haunted houses or creepy monsters or horror movies. Those things were obviously fake. Harmless, really. But this? This scared him. 

Shellshocked, he could only stand there, as if frozen in time. And suddenly, the events of the past week came hurtling back to him, impossible to push away anymore. Rising to the surface after he’d buried it into the ground, like weeds that would never stop coming back, wickedly filling the cracks of the imaginary sidewalk of his mind. Forcing him to face reality, that aside from the people who really knew him, people thought of him and pictured . . .

Circle the correct answer:

a) A monster, touched by too much power.

b) A supernatural being, cursed to live both backwards in time, and longer than he naturally should.

c) A frightening creature, most frightening in all the ways he’d once betrayed his first friends.

d) Something dangerous, shrouded in folklore. 

e) All of the above.

The answer was interchangeable. It was everything. Everything unimaginable and imaginable and even somewhere lost between those lines. There always would be a distinction between them— everything that made them human and Cyrus not. Even though he looked like them, lived like them, woke up to the same sun and fell asleep under the same moon, there would never be a separation bigger than the one between him and them. No matter how many times he resurrected better versions of his recycled former self. 

Something inside Cyrus just . . . snapped. It was like he blinked and then he was running, his vision clouded not only by the sheet over his face. Velcro sneakers pounding against the blacktop in a rhythm so fast it matched his heart. 

His friends were somewhere behind him, lost in the sea of trick-or-treaters. He wasn’t even sure if they’d seen him stop walking or run away. But right now, he didn’t care. In what felt like slow motion, he ran past houses and mailboxes, past other costumed kids, just trying to get away from it all. His ghost sheet kept curling around his legs, threatening to slow him down. He thought of taking it off, but he decided against it. Just kept going, wishing more than he ever had that things were different.  

At last, he found a patch of the neighborhood slightly more secluded, leaving the most of the trick-or-treaters behind. He sat down on the curbside, dropping his bag of candy down on the asphalt. He should really take the sheet off. But still, he didn’t. Cyrus hugged himself, the only sounds he could hear being his gasping breaths. Finally, he felt like he could relax. The almost-silence was welcomed, a glimpse of calmness in the chaos-soaked world. He waited for his family’s voices to seep into his head, like they did on occasion, but for once they said nothing. 

(Maybe because Cyrus thought for once, he might agree with them.)

He taught himself to breathe again. The tight feeling in his chest had loosened, just a little. It was going to be okay. It would be. This wasn’t forever. Wasn’t that the point of time? Nothing was forever, not really. This was a product of William’s announcement, of the horror he’d sent out into the world. If he hadn’t said that, well, none of this would be happening.

Anger prickled through him. It’d been building up since seeing William on the news a week ago, growing deeper each time things downgraded. More than ever, he had to find William and set everything right again. Because if this was how the world would react to Cyrus being an Old One, well . . . it was all too wrong. Yes, he’d never been unaware of the way people saw Old Ones. He’d been aware of how the students shared fearful looks when Old Ones were mentioned, how his friends had talked of taking them down, of stopping evil.

But that was different.

It was different back then. Maybe because he was so focused on pulling the strings of fate, on bringing his family back and regaining balance over magic, Cyrus didn’t care what humans thought of him. He’d been taught that humans invaded his original home on Atlantis, forcing his family to take control over the chaos, as their attack had left half the city dead. In all the lessons his family taught him, humans were barbarians, animals, thieves of the Old Ones’ magic. They’d said this again and again to Cyrus, engraining the idea in his head that humans were the dangerous ones— that Cyrus needed to be wary of them. 

Of course, he’d bought everything his siblings had told him. Why shouldn’t he? People who loved him would never lie, he’d always believed. (And yes, that was another thing his family had taught him.)

Growing up, his family made sure Cyrus understood that humans, despite their dangerous nature, were lesser than Old Ones. So if they were afraid of him? Good! That’s how it was meant to be, the other Eternal Ones told him. But even back when he’d thought his family’s lies were truths, Cyrus knew it’d never brought him joy, seeing humans’ reactions to his true self. Specifically his friends. Even back then, he’d always been too soft— far more than his guiltless past self would’ve liked to admit. 

Now that he was actually trying to be good — and now that he had fully, finally allowed himself the freedom to care about humans — it hurt ten times worse. That despite all the progress he’d been making, all the friendships and trust and morals he’d been reforming, that the world still would only see him as The Timeless One. All they’d ever see him as. Disappointment flooded him in waves. Helio had been right. Cyrus could never change who he was, not fully. His past would always stick to him like a shadow. Or in this case, like a little boy in a costume two sizes too big, purchased at a local Halloween store. 

Earlier tonight, humans were beautiful and magical and wondrous, creating activities Cyrus wanted to do and places he wanted to go. But now, humans just seemed . . . complicated. Maybe that’s how they’d always been. The wider his eyes were opened, the more Cyrus’s perspective changed about humans, over the years. But would their perspective ever changed about him? A question he wasn’t sure he’d ever be able to answer.

Dimly, he was aware of seconds slipping by. His friends had to have realized he was missing by now, and they’d probably be looking for him. He didn’t feel any better, but unless he froze time or something, he’d need to get back. Honestly, the idea of freezing time, just for himself, was becoming more and more appealing. But somehow, Cyrus had a feeling that even if he had all the time in the world, it wouldn’t heal the ache burrowing into his chest right now. He should get back, try to enjoy the rest of the night with his friends.

Though when he tried, he couldn’t seem to make it off the curb. Gravity kept pulling him down. Or maybe it was just Cyrus who wasn’t ready, with gravity having nothing to do with it. If any of his family members were in his place right now, would they— 

Cyrus quickly stopped that train of thought, disgusted with himself. Oh, gross! Had he really just tried to compare himself with his family? Tried to put them in his shoes? Okay . . . what he had been wondering was whether his siblings, if put in this very same scenario, would be having any of these same emotions. 

The answer was, probably not. Instead of running away, they’d probably just be amused by the whole thing. Or at least, a little disgusted, with the knowledge that the lesser species (in their eyes) had the audacity to dress up as them, the superior beings. Oh, and there was also the fact that none of the other Old Ones cared if humans liked them. There was that, too. If they saw Cyrus now, caring far too deeply how humans thought of him, they’d probably just call him foolishly naive. 

Maybe he was foolish, for wanting something different. For believing humans would treat him like, well . . . a human. It wasn’t like Cyrus had the same extent of power over time anymore— really, everyone had the same magic capabilities. Couldn’t the whole world just look at him and . . . understand? 

Cyrus was so lost in his thoughts that he didn’t notice footsteps running up towards him. Not until they grew progressively louder, and a flashlight beam from a phone shined in his direction, casting his whole ghost-sheet face in artificial light. He squinted back, momentarily blinded. And then the phone lowered, revealing a figure walking over to him. After blinking a few times, he could recognize the person as Fort, wearing a look of worry across his face. 

“Cyrus! Is that you?”

Despite everything, Cyrus felt something in his soul relax at the sight of his best friend, a face he’d become so familiarized with. And probably the face he most anticipated seeing, that he found himself searching for in every room, even when Fort was not there. Then it hit Cyrus. Oh. Fort must’ve come looking for him. His entire heart clenched, before growing immeasurably soft. Was it weird to feel joy in this moment, knowing Fort had presumedly come to find him? 

For a moment, Cyrus considered lying— he didn’t necessarily want Fort to see him like this, knee-deep in reminders of the past. There was a definite chance he wasn’t the only person dressed as a ghost in this neighborhood. But lying would only make him feel guiltier and more like his old horrible self, so he said, “Yep, it’s me.” 

Fort let out a huge sigh of relief. As he approached Cyrus, his brow furrowed. “Why’d you run off like that? We couldn’t find you so we decided to split up and look for you. Are you okay?” 

“I’m so sorry about all this,” Cyrus said. He hadn’t expected the words to roll out of his mouth, but unpredictably, they had. “I’m really sorry, Fort. I didn’t mean to run away.” 

Fort’s expression softened a little, but he still looked worried. Slowly, he lowered himself to the curb, sitting beside Cyrus. “Why did you?” 

So he hadn’t seen the costumes. Cyrus blinked back the pressure that threatened to build in his eyes. His shoulders curled. “I don’t know.” 

“Come on, you do. I’ve never seen you run away like that! You had to have seen something—“ 

“Okay, yes. I did,” Cyrus cut him off, not meeting Fort’s eyes. “Those kids trick-or-treating . . . three of them were dressed as Old Ones. And one of them was dressed as . . . as . . .” He couldn’t finish his sentence without feeling like he’d throw up.

He heard unmistakable horror in Fort’s voice. “As you?”

Cyrus nodded, and said nothing else. He couldn’t, if it meant preventing himself from crying. They were silent for a little while, processing what Cyrus had said. And then he felt Fort tugging at his sheet, as if he was trying to pull it off. Quizzically, Cyrus glanced at him. “What are you doing?”  

“Come on, just let me see your face,” he insisted, his tone a little demanding. 

Despite Cyrus’s mood, he cracked a small smile at his friend— one that obviously went unseen, and lightly nudged their shoulders together. “Won’t run away screaming?” 

Fort tilted his head, as if considering this, before looking back at Cyrus with an almost affectionate shrug. “Been there, done that.” 

True. Cyrus sighed, pulling his sheet off just enough to reveal his face underneath, and letting it drape over his shoulders. He half-expected all the trick-or-treaters to spin towards him, realizing who he was, but that wasn’t what happened. It was just him and Fort on the curbside, the sounds of childrens’ laughter and rustling of branches mixing in with the crisp autumn breeze. Above them, a flickering street lamp illuminated their features, blotting out the darkness beyond. 

“That’s better,” Fort said, once he got a good look at Cyrus’s revealed face. “Ugh . . . you shouldn’t have to hide yourself like this.”

“I don’t mind that part,” Cyrus admitted, a little surprised to find that his words were true. Really, he didn’t mind, if it meant getting to still experience some aspect of normalcy. Tonight, he’d gotten to be blissfully anonymous— something he’d honestly just been craving, after all the spotlights being placed on him the last couple days. And not the good kind. 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. I’m sort of used to putting on a show. Well, I was, until . . .” He half-smiled. “You know, some people threw a wrench in my plans.” He’d meant it more as a joke, but the other boy didn’t even smile. “Funny how even after that, we managed to sort everything out between us. Because somehow, after all our differences and bumps in the road, we work.” His smile grew, as it usually did when he thought of their relationship growth. “It’s like some sort of weird friendship anomaly.” 

“Right. I guess so.” Fort hugged his knees. Cyrus didn’t think it was from the cold. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“You’re really . . . that okay with hiding your identity?” 

Oh. Cyrus should’ve known that that’s what had been on Fort’s mind. “I’ve hidden my identity before.” He kept his voice soft. “This doesn’t feel much different.”

Aside from, of course, his motives behind the identity-hiding.

He looked at his friend, waiting for a response. But no response came. Maybe, Cyrus thought, Fort was thinking of the events of three years ago, when Cyrus’s entire existence as Emrys — his true self — had been kept under wraps, all for the purpose of manipulating his friends into helping him get his family back. Hiding his identity had been necessary, for the sake of pulling the strings of his friends’ lives. Cyrus wouldn’t blame Fort, if that’s what he was thinking of. It was definitely what Cyrus was thinking. 

Fort remained silent. More waiting. Time seemed to stretch between him and the other boy, elongating the growing silence. If he thought any longer about the previous secrecy of his identity, the guilt would surely eat Cyrus up inside. He had to say something. Had to know what was going on inside his friend’s head . . . and hope that it was good. With every passing day, it seemed, he cherished Fort’s opinion more and more. 

“Did you hear me?” Cyrus asked, detecting the slight nervousness in his own voice. “You’ve been quiet an awfully long time. I said—“

“I know what you said,” Fort said quickly. “That doesn’t . . . that’s not . . . it’s not fine. Because it’s different.” He was looking straight ahead, his mouth pulled into a tight frown. “It is different, Cyrus.”

Cyrus didn’t know what to say to that. He just stared at Fort, shaking his head slightly in confusion. “Why?”

“Because everything’s different now. The person you are— it’s not something you should have to hide.” Fort’s eyes fell on him. “In fact, it sucks. After how far you came to get here, it just sucks.” 

Cyrus let out a slight, disbelieving laugh, and Fort continued, “I’m serious! Your development’s like . . . a really big deal.” He turned on the flashlight of his phone, waving it onto Cyrus’s face like a spotlight. “I’m proud of you.”

“Could you please blind me less when you’re proud?” Cyrus joked, nudging the flashlight out of his face, which made them both smile. The weight of the situation fell over him again, and Cyrus puffed out his cheeks, letting out air. “And you’re right. It does suck. But this won’t be forever— I hope. Merlin’s proof of it! I have my whole life to change it all around. That’s the plan.” 

“That’s not a plan,” Fort scoffed, but for Cyrus’s sake, he kept his voice gentler than usual. “Believe me, I know what it’s like to be disliked. I feel like my friends and, well, basically everyone at Oppenheimer has hated me at some point, each time I made a mistake. So I get it, okay? Coming back from that takes a lot of work. The whole development thing? Not an easy climb.” 

“Maybe for you,” Cyrus said, a little more lightly. “I have found it pretty easy, actually.” 

His friend’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re joking, right?” It took Fort all of two seconds to recognize Cyrus was, in fact, mostly joking, and he rolled his eyes. 

“Okay, sure . . . maybe not the easiest climb, as you put it. It was definitely easier when the whole world didn’t suddenly have opinions about me.” Cyrus sighed. “I just can’t change the way they all see me right now.” 

As a monster, he finished silently. Because the other boy did not need to hear that part; Cyrus had a feeling he already knew. More, knew that Fort may have very well once thought the same words, in regards to Cyrus. 

“Yeah, and they see you wrong.” Fort lowered his head. “I know I never . . . really understood you or even saw you for who you were before, but . . . I see you now.” He met Cyrus’s eyes, holding his gaze. “The real you. And I don’t want that to change or ever . . . be hidden.” 

The world was like a staticky television set. But when Fort said those words, everything came into focus. Going still, static fading. Like nothing that was spoken had ever made more sense, had ever meant so much. Whatever way Fort was looking at him, Cyrus couldn’t describe. All he knew was that he wasn’t used to it, but he would cherish that look for the rest of time. Cyrus’s breath caught in his throat, amazed.

A strange part of Cyrus had always sort of figured that Fort preferred the version of Cyrus he’d known in the past. His odd, yet kind and easygoing Clairvoyant roommate, who from Fort’s perspective, couldn’t hold a secret to save his life. And while Cyrus hadn’t truly been faking his personality back then (he could admit that now), there was so much more he’d kept hidden from Fort.

So much so, that when Fort first saw the real Cyrus, with all his secrets out in the open, he no longer liked what he saw. The real version of Cyrus was not someone Fort would ever miss. He remembered Fort’s words in the Faerie Queen’s prison, as fresh as if they’d been spoken yesterday: I miss someone who never existed. And Cyrus had pretended like those words, as justified as they were, hadn’t caused every cell in his body to ache and ache and ache. 

But now . . . well, things had changed. Cyrus had changed, and so had the way Fort saw him. Cyrus had known that already. But he’d never known to what extent, until now.

A beat passed before Cyrus found his words again. “Um, Fort?” he found himself saying, voice softer than ever. “Thanks. You’re the best. You know that?”

He did not miss the way his best friend blushed. “I kind of know that? You might’ve told me once or twice. But . . . thanks, Cyrus. That means a lot.”

"What can I say?" Cyrus whispered back warmly. "I might like having you around.”

“Sure, okay,” Fort responded, as they both laughed a little. It was clear from his tone he did not exactly believe Cyrus. Meeting Cyrus’s wide-eyed, hopeful look, Fort’s expression relaxed more. “I . . . see what you mean, though.”

“Did you mean it, what you said before? I just thought . . . I always . . .” Cyrus struggled to articulate his thoughts into words. Finally, he shook his head in wonder. “You really don’t want me to change?” 

“No. Seriously, no.” 

For some time they stayed like that, eyes locked. The silence painlessly gentle, but saying everything. He imagined finding Fort’s hand in the cold grass, holding it in a way he’d held nothing before. Holding it even though he probably shouldn’t, but given the chance Cyrus would eagerly press their palms together anyway. He imagined he’d let all his strange, untold feelings unravel between them, unable to be described as anything else but nonsensically soft. 

Because yes, whatever it meant . . . they’d always been soft. And it wasn’t until, shortly after the final battle, that Cyrus could let himself accept that they were. That truthfully, they always had been. That the Cyrus of the past, glued to carefully-mapped plans and family reunions, was the one thing getting in his own way. Conflicted over foreign feelings, filled with bliss and joy and sunshine, he was not yet ready to accept.

(He’d let himself accept a lot of things, after breaking ties with his family).

In the unimagined, a car drove past them, headlights searing through the darkness. They watched it drive away. Past that, Cyrus watched the trick-or-treaters walk along the sidewalks and up into houses, wondering how simple life must be for them. Envious of it, almost. He’d give anything to feel his own age. To feel like a normal kid, playing Red Rover in the mildly-warm streets of a London summer, or tumbling into giggles around a board game occupied by him and his five siblings, or just to be called in for dinner by real, existing parents. Where the only promises he had to make were pinky promises, with every ounce of youth and magic squeezed into it.

Thanks to his curse, time had not allowed any of that for Cyrus. Whatever trace of childhood he had, he assumed, was buried far back in Atlantis, along with all his memories of his previous life. It left him wondering and spiraling down a rabbit hole, left with no answers. Just for tonight, if he let himself get swept up in the excitement of activities, he could just pretend along with every other kid. 

That’s all Halloween was about— pretending you were something you weren’t. But no matter how many masks Cyrus wore, he couldn’t shake away who he was underneath. No one could. Tomorrow, he’d go back to being the Old One of Time. But it helped, knowing his closest friend saw the true him, and liked him anyway. Fort was the only person who’d tried, really tried to understand him, after all the horribleness Cyrus had put him through. A fact that made his heart swell with gratitude, growing so large it threatened to burst inside his chest. He knew he’d always be grateful for Fort in ways he’d struggle to describe.

Inwardly, he vowed to do everything he could to see Fort back. But in the back of his mind, Cyrus knew, he already did. Both of them, for entirely separate reasons, had been forced to grow up faster than they should, after at one point losing their families. But right here, sitting on the curb next to his best friend, Cyrus felt the most his age, and the most human, that he’d ever felt. Right now, Cyrus felt the most like Cyrus. Not Emrys. Not the Timeless One. Not even an Atlantean, sometimes. Just Cyrus. A boy who would give anything to be apart of his human best friend’s world. 

Beside him, he saw Fort rise to his feet, picking up his discarded candy. “Um, hey . . . how about we go back to my house and see what my dad’s doing? I’ll tell our friends to meet us there. Maybe my dad can put on Ghostbusters, and . . .” In exasperation, he sighed deeply, like he was about to say something ridiculous. “I’ll let him say embarrassing jokes about me, but just for you.” 

Wow. Fort always complained when his dad embarrassed him in front of his friends. For a moment, Cyrus just marveled at how far his friend had come, too, shedding his previous selfishness. Eyes lighting up, Cyrus reached for his own bag of candy and peeled himself off the sidewalk. 

“I love that idea!” 

He loved the way Fort smiled at him right then. “Yeah, I figured you would.”

With that in mind, they walked back to the Fitzgerald home, but not as Fort and Cyrus. Just a pretend ghostbuster and his curly-haired ghost, blending in with the rest of the world.

And if anyone found a ghost costume, ditched and bundled up on the curbside, well . . . who it belonged to would remain an unsolved mystery.

“So turn into a ghost if you wanna disappear / Cry tears for someone else someplace where I can't hear.”

Art made by me:

Chapter Text

Dear Wormwood (by the Oh Hellos)

“For the years have been long / And you have taught me well to sit and wait.”

Shortly after returning to the Fitzgerald house, Cyrus found himself sitting alone at the kitchen table. A few minutes after they’d gotten home from the Halloween festivities, Fort had said he was going upstairs to change out of his costume. But that clearly wasn’t all he was doing, because Cyrus heard faint voices from upstairs, coming from Fort and his father. Who were probably talking about him, he guessed. Fort’s dad had more than likely wanted to know why they’d come back without their other friends.

When they came back downstairs, Cyrus pretended to be lost in a daze, staring at the halfway-finished, abandoned puzzle that lay in pieces on one side of the table. From what Cyrus could tell, the puzzle was slowly forming the face of Abraham Lincoln— a puzzle that Mr. Fitzgerald had started, for reasons Cyrus was completely unaware of. Maybe he just really liked the President? As someone who was an odd person himself, Cyrus wasn’t one to judge for strange interests. 

(Though he personally wouldn’t find it much fun working on a puzzle of Queen Elizabeth II, the monarch of his country. To each their own, Cyrus guessed).

Cyrus’s eyes automatically followed Fort, who quickly passed by him to set up Ghostbusters on the television in the living room. He was about to go over and join him, when Mr. Fitzgerald slid into the seat across from Cyrus, wearing a concerned, yet kind look— an expression Cyrus had seen only directed at Fort before. “Cyrus, could I talk to you alone for a minute?”

Cyrus glanced over at his best friend, who had already made it to the couch, fidgeting with the remote in his hands. Ember lay curled up next to him on the couch, alternating between licking his face to attacking his ear with her teeth. She seemed to enjoy this a lot, in contrast to Fort, who winced every time she tried to bite him, shooting back statements like: “Hey, ow. No biting!”

“Alone?” Cyrus repeated, eyes drifting back to Fort’s father. “Oh, of course.”

His heart rate quickened. With all Cyrus’s history predicting the future, he should’ve predicted this. After talking to his son, Fort’s father probably wanted to see how Cyrus was doing. Which was sweet, though mildly embarrassing for Cyrus, who almost didn’t want to explain the details of his unexpectedly frightening Halloween night.

He thought Fort’s father would want to know more about what had gone down tonight, like why Cyrus had run away from his friends, why Fort had come home with Cyrus early . . . something like that. Though based on the blips of conversation he’d heard upstairs, Cyrus assumed Fort had already told his father all the details. So if he had, what else would he want to talk to Cyrus about? 

“You know, our old house looked like this originally.” 

“Originally?” At first, Cyrus was confused. 

Fort’s father waved a hand around them. “After Forsythe and I made it back from the, uh . . .” He thought of the word. “Dragsee dimension?” 

“Dracsi. My brothers, D’hea and Ketas, and my sister Q’baos, ruled over it. It was the dimension they were exiled to, by humanity.” And of course, where they had tried first with Mordred, and then with Michael, to teach a human enough Space magic (due to Ni’nev’s absence) to create a portal back to the human realm. If Damian hadn’t brought them back with his own Space magic, Michael surely would’ve. It’d always been a matter of time before his family left the Dracsi dimension. 

It came with a slight discomfort to Cyrus to realize he had mentioned his family and the dimension they’d once ruled over so casually. But he figured, Fort’s father was used to Cyrus being an Old One by now.

“Uh . . . okay, yes, that. The Dracsi dimension. After getting back from there, and back from the Oppenheimer school after Fort was expelled, we came back to Fort’s aunt’s house.” He scratched his head. “Turns out, me being reported dead means we lost our original house. Where Fort grew up.” 

Cyrus blinked in surprise. “Wait . . . you remember all that? How? Wasn’t it the faerie chil— um, faerie man, Helio, who pretended to be you when you first got back home?” 

“Well, yes. Helio lended me the memories of the months he spent with Fort and my sister, Cora. So I hadn’t felt like I’d missed out on much.”

“Oh! That’s . . . nice of him.” Cyrus’s eyes widened slightly, as he put the pieces together. “So this is Fort’s Aunt Cora’s house as well? She lives here too?” 

“No, this house is all me and Fort’s. We got this place after the D.C and Maryland battle, after I officially came home. And not as a doppelgänger version of me!” He grinned, and so did Cyrus.

“Believe me, I know exactly how that feels, having many versions of you at once. Depending on which version of me it is, it can be strange! So . . . you got your home back after the battle?” 

“We did. But, since we lost our old house, we used magic to make this one look exactly the same as our old place. Even if we had to change locations, and it took me a while to find work again . . .” Mr. Fitzgerald winced at that last part. “It was worth it. So some things could stay the same.”

Cyrus’s fingers traced the Abraham Lincoln puzzle in front of them, gliding across the words “Fort Lincoln” that’d been written on a post-it note on the side. He wasn’t sure what that meant, but the words brought him an odd comfort. 

This place certainly felt like a home, a place to suspend memories of loved ones in time. And right now, not just to the Fitzgerald’s. 

“That must be nice,” Cyrus found himself commenting. “Having something to come back to that . . . never changes.” 

He didn’t see the look that crossed Mr. Fitzgerald’s face. Like he wanted to comment on what Cyrus had said— a result of the instability that had stuck with every temporary home Cyrus had ever stayed in, or his maybe-far-too-obvious desire to have fond memories at a family home like Fort and his dad clearly did. 

But he changed the topic pretty quickly. 

“So, Cyrus . . . how are you holding up there, kiddo? Fort has been telling me how they’re all treating you at the school.” 

Oh. The thing that for the past few weeks, had been heavy on Cyrus’s mind. Now the residents of the Utopia school, including essentially all of Earth, knew Cyrus’s secret: that he was an Old One in the shape of a human boy, and not the normal human they’d taken him for. Majority of the school, and seemingly the world, treated him with fear or paranoia or general discomfort. And it didn’t help that the fact that the Old Ones had tried to take over humanity was basically common knowledge now.  

At first, Cyrus wasn’t sure what to say. He took a sip of Earl Grey tea from the mug in front of him, something Fort had made for him as soon as they got home. Fort didn’t like tea— said it wasn’t his thing— but he had seemed to remember Cyrus did. 

Setting the cup down, he just gave a shrug. “I’m just trying my best, to be honest. I guess after finally doing something new . . . I thought I’d get to start fresh while I was there.” 

“Let me guess . . . until that William kid ruined everything for you?” Mr. Fitzgerald pointed out, and Cyrus’s face must’ve flooded with surprise. “Yeah, Fort told me about him, too. From everything I’ve heard, he seems awful.”

Awful was an understatement. But then again, William hated Cyrus, and had every reason to. At least, he’d had every reason to hate the past version of Cyrus. No part of Cyrus was surprised that William had pulled something like this, even if— yes, it had been an extreme move. Even more extreme than William putting Cyrus under Spirit magic.

Before all that, though, he’d been Cyrus’s ‘friend’, for the short time they’d attended the UK school together. And Cyrus knew that as awful as he’d become now, William hadn’t been all that bad, when Cyrus first met him. Well, before Cyrus had given William any reason to seek revenge on him.

“He . . . wasn’t always,” Cyrus said slowly, snapping back out of his thoughts. “But yeah, he is, isn’t he? Ever since his announcement, it’s just about all everyone sees me as.”

“Hmm. Well, I can’t speak for everyone,” Fort’s father began, looking like he knew something Cyrus didn’t. “But I do know it’s not all Fort sees you as.”

“No,” Cyrus agreed, the idea sending a strange warmth fizzing inside him. His stomach reeling, like he was floating. “Not him. Or my other friends. But yeah, it’s been a bit tricky, being at the school with everyone that’s going on. I hope to gain all my students back someday. And . . . get the world to accept me.” 

The world, accepting an Old One? After everything he’d seen the past few weeks, Cyrus was not sure such a thing was ever possible.  

“Don’t worry, the school will get used to you— it will take some time, that’s all. You’ll win them all over eventually.” Mr. Fitzgerald reached over to ruffle the white curls atop his head. The gesture filled Cyrus with a warm pool in his stomach, and he decided that even though he never got it growing up, he liked receiving affection like that. He liked it a lot.

What Cyrus liked even more, were the words that came next out of Fort’s father’s mouth. “You’ve certainly won over my son.” 

“Sorry, what now?” He heard Fort groan loudly from the other room. Cyrus hadn’t even known he’d been listening. Now that he did, he felt his face grow warmer. “Cyrus didn’t win me over.” 

“Apparently I did!” Cyrus called to him, and Fort’s father laughed.

“I think you did, too,” the man agreed in a whisper.

“I heard that!” Fort grumbled. “If anything, I’ve won him over, not the other way around.” 

Somewhere next to him in the living room, Ember giggled. “I agree with them, Father. Though for me personally, I would still like to eat your Timeless One.”

“Um, hey! We’ve been through this. No eating my friends, even if they kinda sucked in the past and really deserved it. But he’s good now, so stop that, Ember . . .”

Cyrus smiled to himself at that, not about to argue with Fort’s point. Fort and Ember continued talking in the living room, and he tuned them out. Internally, Cyrus was trying to figure out who his favorite Fitzgerald was, and was failing miserably. He liked to tease Fort that either Ember or Fort’s dad were the coolest of the Fitzgerald’s, which always made Fort a little annoyed (even though he agreed Cyrus was in fact, right about that).

“You think I will win them over, though? Eventually?” Cyrus asked hopefully, turning back to Fort’s father. 

He’d surprised himself with the question. Winning others over (okay, aside from winning over the people he’d used to manipulate), had never been on Cyrus’s agenda before. It wasn’t like he needed to convince all humans to suddenly make an exception for an Old One, but in Cyrus’s mind, it wasn’t actually about being liked. Maybe just being accepted, because that sounded like his way of staying at the Utopia school. Staying with his friends. And to him, that mattered. 

“I don’t see how you couldn’t. Anyone could see the kind of person you are.” Mr. Fitzgerald glanced in Fort’s direction again, before looking back at Cyrus. 

“Really?”

“Hey, of course. Maybe they all just need a little more time to see it.” 

That was true. And hadn’t it happened with other people in Cyrus’s life, like his friends, who were beginning to see the kind of person he was? The kind of person he was right now— and the one he was inevitably changing into. Cyrus was starting to realize that other people aside from Fort were starting to make the real him feel seen. Mr. Fitzgerald was, unexpectedly, another person who Cyrus could say, saw him. But even with that reassurance, there was something there, something nagging at Cyrus’s brain. 

Cyrus leaned forward, elbows pressed into the fabric of the place-setting. “But . . . what if I’m not good? What if they’re right about me still being . . .” 

A monster, Cyrus wanted to say. 

Instead, he settled on, “. . . What I am?” 

“What you are?” Fort’s dad repeated. Recognition lit up in his eyes. “Oh, you mean as the Timeless One.”

But the way he said it didn’t make it sound condescending. Not in the slightest. It wasn’t like he was he was saying, “What you are? Oh wait, you mean the Timeless One, the youngest member of the family of Old Ones who tried destroying the world? The one who blindly soaked up his family’s lies, and hurt my son in the process?”

But this was Mr. Fitzgerald, so he’d never phrase it like that. It more seemed to be asked out of curiosity, an attempt to understand Cyrus better. It seemed these days, more and more people were attempting to understand Cyrus better. And Cyrus, despite not really understanding himself just yet, was letting them.

The boy could only nod in response.

“Well . . . should I be worried that my son’s friend might secretly want to take over the world again?” Fort’s dad asked, but his tone told Cyrus he was joking. Maybe half-joking. Even so, the words made his stomach flip.

“Oh, no, that’s not me anymore,” Cyrus said, smiling widely. “Nothing to worry about there.”

Mr. Fitzgerald nodded. “Then from what I can tell, what you are right now, is a boy who is maybe just . . . learning who you want to be in this world. I don’t know you that well, Cyrus, but from what I’ve heard from Fort, I’d say you’re one of the good ones of your family. Better than . . . a lot of humans, even. And someday, everyone else will be able to see that, too.” 

If there was a book on what to say in this situation, those words were probably in it. It was probably, like the entire first chapter, all about social cues and how to be human and the right ways to comfort people— things Cyrus wasn’t sure he had ever really learned. Or maybe it didn’t matter that he wasn’t human. Maybe words like that were reserved for adults like Mr. Fitzgerald or Helio, who had the uncanny ability of showing Cyrus kindness and wisdom he was only just beginning to get in touch with. 

“One of the good ones,” Cyrus repeated softly, not sure why that statement brought a strange feeling to his heart. How was he supposed to feel, after a statement like that? Cyrus wasn’t sure. 

Very ironic, because that was the same phrase Cyrus used to refer to Fort with, when speaking about humans. Back then, Cyrus had never understood why Fort hadn’t seemed pleased to hear that. To Cyrus, humans were the monsters who’d invaded his home city, Atlantis. But Fort — including Jia and Rachel — were the “good ones” of humanity. That’s what Cyrus had always thought. 

(In moments like these, it occurred to him just how embarrassing his old thinking patterns had been.)

And now, the same was being said about Cyrus, and he knew it wasn’t faulty thinking on Mr. Fitzgerald’s part. Aside from maybe D’hea or Ni’nev (but Cyrus had never been too sure about Ni’Nev), the other Old Ones seemed to be made up of hatred for humans and ambitions to take over the world. But since that wasn’t the case for Cyrus . . . what was he made for? How could he know exactly who he wanted to be at twelve years old, only to know nothing three years later?

Two questions he was certain he’d be looking for, for the rest of his very long life. But for the sake of Cyrus’s patience, he hoped he’d figure it out soon. Preferably before his time at Utopia was up. 

“And who knows, maybe you’ll do more than teach at the Utopia school,” Fort’s father added. “As far as I know, you could grow up to become just like I know Fort will: future President, leading the first mission to all the other planets, and the inventor of the flying car.”

An unexpected laugh rolled out of Cyrus. These days, his laughs were coming out more easily than they ever had— bringing a strange, but giddy feeling. Of course, seeing the future so well and all, Cyrus knew exactly who would end up doing those next three things that Mr. Fitzgerald had listed. As far as he knew, none of them would be Fort. But for the sake of playing along, Cyrus didn’t mention that.

“Maybe so! But . . . I think I’d just settle for growing up to become one great thing.” Really, that was enough. 

After being the Timeless One, living the life Cyrus had, he figured just doing something more simple would be enough. Plus, he had a feeling that being the Timeless One (even if you weren’t battling your future self or trying to bring back your evil family from exile), would always be a full-time job. A cursed full-time job, if you will. Which wherever he went, just never seemed to stop catching up with him. 

At least if the world warmed up to Old Ones someday, and he got to stay at the Utopia school, basking in the company of people who helped him grow, maybe being cursed by time was never such a bad thing. 

Once his friends got home, they all sat in the living room, candy-trading and watching Ghostbusters. No one made a big deal about Cyrus’s disappearance earlier. Aside from their initial questions of surrounding what had happened, which Cyrus gave vague yet honest answers to, they all settled in to watch the movie soon afterward, wearing pajamas and huddled in cozy blankets. 

Ember and Mr. Fitzgerald were there too, of course, taking up the couch while the rest of them occupied the floor. The five of them in a row, going: Cyrus, Rachel, Sierra, Fort, and Jia from one end to the next. But although they didn’t ask for many details of the incident earlier like Fort had, Cyrus found that his friends comforted him in other ways. 

He saw it in the way Sierra mind-magicked him an image of Fort screaming in the haunted house earlier, which made them both crack up. He saw it in the way Jia rubbed his curls in the same way she used to, telling him she was glad to see his uncovered face. He saw it in the way Rachel flashed broad grins at him, whenever Cyrus traded her all his Skittles and she traded him back with Reese’s.

And Cyrus noticed he was being seen for who he really was, over and over again. For so long, the only person who seemed to care about Cyrus was himself. By this point, he wasn’t even sure if his siblings, the other Old Ones, had— or if it’d been his overwhelmingly immense power they’d cared about. Then, for a time, people had cared about him, but that stopped being real soon enough, too. He thought he’d never, ever have real friends again. Or people who understood him. Trusted him. 

But now, here he was, the first of his kind with human friends. And maybe not everyone would see a semi-immortal Old One as anything but an evil monster, but he had some people who didn’t. Somehow, that had made the events from earlier — seeing three little kids dressed up as Old Ones for Halloween — a little less discouraging. Just like him, it seemed, they had a lot more growing up to do. 

From where he sat, Fort kept catching Cyrus’s eye at various points in the movie— as he had often, since Cyrus’s talk with Fort’s father. But Cyrus, enigmatic as ever, just handed him eye-crinkling smiles.

Many Years Ago, Pre-Oppenheimer

Long before Emrys learned to be ashamed of his siblings, he found himself tracking down his future self. As per usual, demanding him answers which Merlin would more than likely, be vague and confusing about. Who knew where he’d gotten those traits from. 

Merlin was never difficult to find. Probably because he was Emrys— a way older, more experienced-at-life version— but still the same person. Wherever Merlin was, and whenever he was, Emrys had never had much trouble sensing his location. Oftentimes, when Emrys seeked his future self out to discuss details of their game, he found Merlin at his little out-of-sync cottage, where they’d exchange rules and insults as easily as breathing.

According to Merlin, Emrys would one day regret preying on his future self’s downfall. Seeing as it’d help him return his long-lost family home, Emrys largely disagreed with that.

It’d been a few days after Emrys’s trip to Stonehenge, where he’d discovered another time traveler poking around. A human. Unusual, and curious, as he babbled about bears and magic and how he and “Cyrus” would become best friends, sometime within the upcoming years. With that meeting, opportunity struck. And opportunity didn’t strike often, when it came to plotting millions of years across time, deciding which strings of fate to pull to bring the other Old Ones back. 

And that wasn’t all that had stuck with Emrys. 

Best friends. That phrase had lingered in Emrys’s mind. Despite its impossibility, the idea had snagged onto every fragment of his mind, the parts that desired to feel close to someone. He’d always imagined the first people he’d be close to were his family, but this . . . was different. Felt different, in a curious, and wonderful, and unexpected way. 

Emrys would’ve been lying if he said the idea of having a friend, of being friends with this boy, didn’t cause an unusual swarm of butterflies to erupt in his stomach. All he knew was that for a moment, his usual loneliness receded like the tide, replaced by the uncontrollable fizz of anticipation. It was exciting . . . except for the fact that this boy was human, so they could never really be friends. Not when his family’s lives had been so ruined by human’s actions. Though this boy . . . hadn’t seemed so horrible, for a human.

One glance into the future told Emrys all he needed to know: he’d pretend to make friends, go to three magic schools, all while pushing a wide variety of people into unknowingly helping him free his family from exile. Honestly, no outcome could be better than that. Even if, for some reason, he couldn’t budge his strange disappointment that his friendship with the Fort boy wouldn’t be real. Nothing about it would be real. 

At least, things should be easy enough if he chose not to get attached to a silly human. Besides, when it was all said and done, he’d have his family for company! And he’d never be alone ever again. For someone who’d been alone all his life, Emrys could see nothing beyond the unimaginable bliss that’d come with that. They’d rule over the human world, getting to be the family Emrys had longed for ever since he could remember. 

Except . . .

One thing would not stop bothering him. As much as that meeting had given him hope to finally formulate a solid plan, it had also created a strange sense of unease inside Emrys. Something he’d, for better or for worse, only be able to confront Merlin about. 

Using his time magic to get there, Emrys emerged in front of Merlin’s cottage, standing in the shadow of the flower bushes that were buried in the dirt, pressed against the walls of the place. He always pictured they were frozen in time, because the same flowers had been planted there, un-wilting, since Emrys had been very young.

He bypassed the door knocker in the shape of a small imp, who didn’t even bother with much security anymore when Emrys visited. Its grumbles followed Emrys as he closed the door behind him, finding himself standing in Merlin’s future-tech-filled cottage.

As far as he could see, there was no Merlin currently occupying the space. But Emrys had checked beforehand with his future vision, so knew the old man could’ve been in any one of the rooms, probably anticipating Emrys’s arrival. 

He was wearing his Timeless One cloak, letting the cloth of its hood drape down over his shoulders. This cloak he’d sewn himself, completed under countless days with red thread and a needle, was his greatest joy. As he’d been cursed by Time itself with a human form, wearing his cloak was maybe the closest thing Emrys could get to looking like his (some might say monstrous-looking) family. Or at least, it’d come in handy when he had to hide behind a mask. 

“Merlin!” he shouted, and waited. When the silence stretched on, he added, “I know you’re here. I saw you, in my visions. I need to talk to you.”

“Talk? Or just batter on insults to your future self?” A voice, deeper and worn with age, echoed from one of the rooms. Then the man whose face was so familiar to Emrys, wrinkled yet bright, stepped out into his line of sight.

Maybe a phrase like that would’ve usually tempted Emrys to snap at him, but he was too distracted by other things. “Just to talk,” he answered, collapsing into one of the seats surrounding the dining table. “Something’s happened that . . . I can’t entirely explain.”

“So you need answers, then.” Merlin’s eyes unfocused in the way Emrys’s often did, before he started to smile. “Ah, I remember this now. So, I see you’ve met Forsythe.”

It bugged Emrys, the look that Merlin gave him. Like he knew far too much and Emrys knew far too little. “Fort,” he corrected softly, because one glance in time, focusing on the boy called Forsythe Fitzgerald, told Emrys that his future “friend” preferred this nickname for some reason. That’s what he called himself, and that’s what “Cyrus” would eventually call him, too. Nicknames apparently were what friends used— or so Emrys assumed. “Meeting him has given me quite a lot to think about.”

“I’d imagine.”

“With my plan,” Emrys emphasized, glaring at him. “Now I know exactly what I can to do get our family back, once and for all. By becoming involved in Fort’s life, I can nudge him and the other students at the school into doing what I need them to do. And then, I’ll win our game.”

Honestly, the more he started to cultivate his plans for the future, the more Emrys was certain he’d succeed. He couldn’t lose, when everything would be so carefully planned out. By placing the books of magic in the right spot and adding in the prophecy poem, that would lay out the groundwork for everything that was going to come. 

Merlin snorted. “It sounds like you have it all figured out. Your plan requires a lot of involvement in this boy’s life, eh? What a funny thing that happens, when we become so involved in others’ lives.”

“He said we’ll be best friends. When he first told me that, I was so . . .” Emrys looked away uncomfortably, not wanting to get into the sheer excitement that’d instinctually rippled through him. He snapped himself out of the lingering feeling. “But then I saw the truth. I’m going to lie to him and pretend to be his friend, so . . . it won’t be real.”

“Ah, my boy. Who’s to say what’s real and what isn’t?”

Emrys sighed deeply. “We both know it can’t be. As far as I can see, you picked him to be your little chosen one. So you know, I won’t be the only one involved in his life.” He gave Merlin a curious look. “You have many plans for him, don’t you?”

“Time will tell,” Merlin mumbled, and Emrys rolled his eyes. And Merlin said Emrys never spoke clearly. “So, you’ve come all the way here to tell me your plans of using this boy, just as I am intending to do? Or are you going to tell me what is really on your mind?”

As usual, his older self read Emrys like a book. Probably because he was him, or once was, and annoyingly, that meant he knew Emrys better than anyone else ever had. 

“That is what’s on my mind.” 

“If you say so. But there’s more, isn’t there?” 

Yes, there was more. Of course there was. 

“Alright, fine, yes.” Emrys tilted his head. “Fort surprises me . . . and I don’t get surprised. Why is that? Why didn’t I see him coming? I see everything coming.” 

This should’ve frustrated him, but in a weird way, it intrigued him more than anything. Almost . . . excited him. As the Timeless One, Emrys never had an issue knowing what was coming before it happened. Until a human boy stumbled into his life unexpectedly, promising Emrys they’d be best friends. As if Emrys, drifting around his whole life, waiting, waiting, waiting for a family that never showed, could belong to someone other than himself. Allow himself something real, something stagnant, at least for a little while. And why had he liked that idea so badly? 

Finally, his soul had seemed to breathe. Something unpredictable. Something new. 

Merlin gave him a faraway smile, like he knew something Emrys didn’t. “Why, what’s life without the joy of a little surprise here and there?”

“Surprises aren’t possible, though. Not for us.”

“Oh? But he still interests you.”

Interests. That was the right phrase. Fort did interest Emrys, and he wouldn’t know all the details of why, or how, until years later. 

The younger boy laughed. “Because I didn’t . . .  see him coming. He’s just some human.” He sneered a little, unable to help it. “They’re all easy to predict. And never has one surprised me like that, telling me I’ll be his friend.” His mind swiveled between curiosity and amusement, along with a twinge of that old hatred— the one that his family carried for humans, and had passed onto Emrys, too. 

Merlin raised his eyebrows at Emrys. He’d gravitated over to the table, using his Time magic to make himself solid enough to sit down. “Hmm. Maybe there’s more to the world than what’s predictable. Tell me, what are you looking for?”

Emrys paused, frowning. “Looking for?”

What kind of question was that? All Emrys had ever been looking for was his family. He didn’t have to remind Merlin of that either, who already knew— or had seen Emrys saying it in his own future vision. Even without it, it wasn’t hard to guess. His desire to bring his family home had been what Emry’s entire life so far had circulated around. Not even the few times he’d been able to make contact with them through Time magic was enough to satisfy his longing for them. 

“You already know that answer,” Emrys continued, sighing again. “Why are you asking?” 

“Oh, my boy. We both know you’ve got a lot to learn.” Which of course, made Emrys glare at him. Merlin only took a sip from his tea— again, making himself solid enough to drink it. “There is much to look for in life outside of our . . . relatives. Like the unexpected.” 

“The unexpected.” Emrys repeated this doubtfully. Merlin didn’t seem to grasp how little Emrys liked the unexpected. It was against everything he was. 

A small part of him reminded him that he did, or almost had enjoyed the unexpected, when he’d met that human boy in Stonehenge. He quickly batted that thought away, but he still felt it exist inside him. That secret, strange joy, which he’d never admit to Merlin. As the Timeless One, it was equally a little concerning that he didn’t see everything coming the way it should. But that didn’t matter, not really. With all his immense control over time, there was no way things wouldn’t play out exactly the way Emrys wanted it to. 

“Precisely.” Merlin smiled at him. “Some things that happen throughout time are out of our control. Even for us. And the sooner you let go of that need for control, the sooner you’ll understand what I mean. Trust the process.”

Emrys didn’t know what to say to that. Only that Merlin’s words frustrated him in ways that no one ever frustrated Emrys. He chose to take Merlin’s words lightly. “And that sounds like bunk to me. You believe I’d listen to your advice?” He heard a smile in his own voice. 

Merlin laughed, the sound deep and crackly. “You? Oh, absolutely not. But one day, I think you’ll heed my words.” He regarded Emrys more seriously. “Sometimes life sets us out with one purpose, but that can always change.” 

Emrys was still smiling. He couldn’t tell if it was forced, but it was starting to feel that way. “Maybe after I get our family back. Someday, my siblings and I will be the rulers of all humans. Teaching them the best way to do magic. Making sure they know their place. That can be my next purpose!” 

“Yes, maybe so,” his future self agreed, looking at him. He saw the doubt in Merlin’s eyes. As if Emrys wasn’t capable. 

His face burned. For a moment, he gripped the arms of his chair. When he released them, he saw his nails had left tiny moon-shaped crescents on the plush seat. “You might not believe I want that, but I do.“

Long ago, Merlin had already advised him not to yearn for all that. He’d tried to make Emrys promise him that he wouldn’t go making plans to bring back their family. And Emrys had learned quickly that when Merlin advised him something, it was probably best to do the opposite. Emrys was proud of himself for how poorly Merlin phased him and for how little his older self must’ve felt as Emrys stood to leave.

“Oh, it’s not that I don’t believe you,” Merlin said, watching Emrys reach the cottage door. “I just wonder if it’s what you really are made for, inside.” 

Cyrus’s eyes shot open wide. 

In his hazy state of half-sleepiness, it took him several seconds to become adjusted to his surroundings, to realize the memory he’d been reliving had only been a dream. That wasn’t surprising. Oftentimes, when he had dreams, he recalled the face of his future self. Or of his family in them. As always, the realization that it’d all been a dream came with relief, followed by a strange twist of sadness that he immediately felt guilty for. No one would understand that sadness. 

They wouldn’t understand because deep down, a part of you misses us, he imagined his family’s voices speaking in his head. That’s why you’re sad, isn’t it? Your little friends would hate you all over again, if they knew how deeply you still care for us. 

Cyrus chose to ignore that.

He pushed himself up, looking around. Last night, they’d set up blankets and sleeping bags all around Fort’s living room. Everyone had slept there aside from Fort and his dad, who’d chosen to sleep in their own beds. His eyes wandered across Sierra and Rachel’s sleeping forms, and then to Jia, who was already awake, to Cyrus’s surprise. She’d taken one half of the couch, while Rachel had taken the other. Noticing Cyrus, she sat up, giving him a little wave.

“Morning,” she said tiredly, and they smiled at each other.

“Good morning!” Cyrus replied, keeping his voice quiet as to not wake the others. “How long have you been awake?”

Jia shrugged. “Thirty minutes? I’m not sure. I’m used to waking up a lot earlier than this one. And even if I try to wake her up? Watch.” She kicked her foot lightly into Rachel’s side, who remained asleep, her face wedged into the couch. 

“Oh, don’t worry. She’ll wake up on her own soon.” Cyrus checked the future then, his eyes becoming hazy as he did so. “It doesn’t seem like anything you will do will be much help, though.” 

“Figures.” Jia snorted softly. She started to stand. “Want to go see what we’ll find in the kitchen?”

Cyrus nodded eagerly. They both carefully stepped over Sierra, the floorboards creaking as they made their way into the kitchen. Everything looked different in the daylight. Bright and warm and safe. Jia seemed to know her way around the place more than Cyrus, because she went straight to the fridge, reaching in to grab something. She pulled out a carton of what seemed to be milk. But when she poured it into a glass, the liquid came out orange. “Do you still like orange juice?” 

Cyrus stared at her, amazed. “You remembered.” 

“How could I forget? You drank it like, every morning back at Oppenheimer.” Jia took out another cup, pausing to look at him before she poured it in. Cyrus gave her what he hoped was a look of encouragement, and watched as orange juice filled up the empty cup, the smell of it citrusy and sweet against his nose.

They fell into seats around the kitchen table, soaking in the morning sun that doused everything in its glow. Jia was running her hands over the length of her braid— something, Cyrus noticed, his friend did when she was feeling nervous. “It’s been a while since we’ve talked,” Jia muttered. “You know, just us.” 

“Yeah, it really has,” he said, feeling a little guilty. After all, the past week had mostly been him around his friends as a group, but not often individually. He’d just figured it was easier transitioning into their lives again that way, with his friends still warming up to him. 

“I’m sorry we fell so out of touch after the battle . . .” 

“No.” Cyrus shook his head. “Please don’t be sorry.”

“I am, though. I know I had my reasons, but . . . I should’ve been more like Fort. I should’ve forgiven you as soon as the battle was over. You guys were friends again— I don’t maybe— maybe days after that battle ended. I should’ve showed up for you sooner.” 

He’d been regarding her softly, trying to hide the hint of pain that threatened to rise up inside him. Because Cyrus had understood why his ex-friends hadn’t stayed for him after the battle. Everyone hadn’t stayed, hadn’t even fought for him, except for Fort. There were still hurt feelings, and apologies that’d had to be made. Cyrus had known that Rachel and Jia needed more time than Fort did, before they could be friends again. 

“It’s okay. Really. Jia, I distanced myself from you all— I didn’t think you’d want to see much of me again. I thought we all could use some time to heal.”

“Well, you’re not wrong.” Jia nodded, looking sheepish. “For a while, none of us did want to see you. We weren’t sure how much you’d really changed.” She met his eyes. “But that doesn’t mean I didn’t miss you.” 

Joy flooded him. “I missed you, too, Jia. So much.” He reached across the table, squeezing her hand. She didn’t hesitate to squeeze back. “You’re right, we really do need to hang out more. Just us. Like old times! But . . . only if you want that.”

“Of course I want that!” She looked surprised he’d even asked that. “I know Gee would want that, too. She admits it even less than me, but she missed you, too. It’s not the same without the four of us together— you, me, Rachel, and Fort. The original Oppenheimer friend group.”  

A small twinge hit his heart at her words. To know Jia and Rachel valued their little group as much as Cyrus had. Even if it had first been built on lies from Cyrus’s end. Fort, Rachel, and Jia had always been closer to each other than Cyrus had been to them— especially after Cyrus had left Oppenheimer— and he was determined now to fix that. He had allowed himself loneliness for too many years on this earth, and he didn’t want it anymore. He wanted things in their friendship circle to be real this time. In every way. 

“I know, right? I never thought we’d be able to be like this again,” Cyrus admitted. “But I want that, too. All of us, being friends for real.”

“Hey, we are now.” Jia nudged him. “It’s been really nice having you around this past week. Weird, but nice.”

He laughed a bit. “Yeah, for me too! You know, I’m really glad I’ve been changing who I am, if it means we can be buddies again.” 

“No kidding. You’re a way better friend now that you’re not supporting your family or manipulating us.”

“Um, hey—“ Cyrus started to protest, then just gave up. “No, you’re right. I had that one coming.” He took a sip of his juice, then paused. “I didn’t . . . just mean it like that. I’ve changed already, of course, but I feel like I’m changing even more now that I’m here. Is that strange?” 

“No, I don’t think so,” Jia said. She seemed to think of something, then hesitated before letting her next words come out. “Is it . . . Fort that’s changing you?”

Cyrus’s eyes widened. He hadn’t thought of that. Confusion coming through his voice, he said, “I . . . I suppose he has, somehow.”

“Really?” Jia was watching him with a glimmer in her eyes. Much in the same way Helio had last week, when Cyrus had brought up his closest friend.

“I think so. He’s been really supportive, since I’ve gotten here. And he’s been a good friend.” He chuckled to himself. “I’m . . . well, I’m still new at the whole ‘friend’ thing. Honestly, I’m still learning how to be one. Sometimes I’m not sure I know anything about being a good friend.” 

“Eh, I think you do. You’re a good friend to me, now,” she said, which sent a spark of joy in his chest. “And I obviously am not Fort, but I’m pretty sure you’re good at being his friend, too.” 

Cyrus’s eyes crinkled fondly at her. His voice cracked a little. “Thanks, Jia.” The two of them sat in silence for a moment, basking in the comfort of it all, before the girl next to him spoke up again. 

“Anyway, enough about that loser.” Jia waved a hand dismissively, and they both laughed quietly. “I never got to ask you about all the world-traveling you did the past few years. Fort told me you went to China?”

Eyes lighting up, Cyrus nodded. He propped his legs underneath him on the chair, balancing his glass of juice in his hands. “I did! I may have been near the village you’re from?” 

“You might’ve been,” she said with a laugh. “China’s so huge. Where’d you visit?” 

“Hmm, alright, let me think. I went to Beijing first, then Taiwan — which had surprisingly incredible tea, by the way— and I am not just saying that because I’m British . . .” 

By the time the others started to wake up, it was to find Cyrus and Jia sitting together at the kitchen table, gushing about China and Chinese culture together. Rachel was the last to come out into the kitchen, rubbing her eyes sleepily.

“What are you guys talking about?” Then, she furrowed her brows. “Wait a sec. Are you guys speaking in Chinese?” She yawned. “It’s so early for this.” 

“Cyrus is showing me what he learned while in China,” Jia explained. “Unlike you, he could actually understand it if we watched Chinese dramas together.”

“Gee, I know some Chinese!”

“Barely.” 

Cyrus’s attention was then drawn to Fort, who pulled up a chair next to Cyrus, having just made cereal. Fort’s father had promised to make them all breakfast, giving them all a dramatic rundown of the items they had on their ‘breakfast menu’. (“Today’s special is farm-fresh, organic cornflakes, along with my personal favorite, toast,” Fort’s dad had said, upon entering the kitchen. “And for our guests, does anyone want pancakes?”). Of course, they’d all wanted pancakes. 

Judging from the way Fort had rolled his eyes and his face had turned red, Cyrus didn’t think his friend really enjoyed his father’s antics. But Cyrus did.

“Dream about any ghosts last night?” Cyrus asked, unable to do much but smile, almost lazily, as Fort sat down next to him. The sunlight half-blinded him, to look at Fort from this direction. But it felt worth it. Fort's dark hair was unusually messy, and Cyrus was half-tempted to brush it back with his fingers, in the way he'd seen Fort's father do before. But not wanting to embarrass Fort, he refrained from doing it. He wasn't too sure where that urge had come from, anyway. 

“That was a pretty direct question.” 

The silver-haired boy shrugged. “Well, only fitting for the occasion. That’s what Halloween is all about, isn’t it? The spookiness? Monsters and such?” 

“I mean, sort of? It’s also about dressing up.”

“Oh, we both know I’m used to that sort of thing. Wearing masks, and all that— and not for any holiday. Maybe Halloween is an annual occurrence for all of us Old Ones.” 

“Wow. That sounded like a Hallmark card.” Fort looked like he was trying to figure out if Cyrus was serious. “Oh, come on. Just because you saw three kids in some lame attempt to dress up as you, does not make you scary.”

“Doesn’t it?” Cyrus tilted his head. “You were scared of me, once.” 

Fort frowned, giving him an embarrassed look. “. . . Okay, yeah. But only before I knew it was you. You weren’t that scary, Cyrus. At least, not compared to your family. They were scary.” Then, Fort cursed under his breath. As always when he mentioned Cyrus’s family, Fort seemed like he was trying to be more careful. “Uh, sorry! That didn’t come out—“

Years ago, Cyrus would’ve probably been filled with anger at a comment like that. Now, though, he was more concerned with reassuring his friend. He reached over to gently squeeze Fort’s arm. “Don’t worry about it. They were a bit intense. More than I could ever . . . try to be.” Cyrus passed him a soft look. “So, back to my original question. Did you dream of any ghosts?” 

“No.” Fort smiled slightly, and took a bite of his cereal. His dark eyes fell to Cyrus. “Did you?”

Cyrus’s smile fell, just a little, as he regarded his dream from last night. Or at least, the only one he could remember. Now that he’d thought of it, it’d been a memory. A dream of Merlin. Maybe Fort’s question wasn’t too far off. As far as ghosts went in Cyrus’s life, Merlin was one of them. 

“Maybe.” 

Next to him, Fort gave him a look of confusion. Maybe concern. He must’ve picked up on the hesitation in Cyrus’s voice, or the way his smile had slowly fallen away. Cyrus wanted to say more and he felt that Fort did too, but neither of them said anything. When his pancakes arrived, coated with whipped cream and enough chocolate to rival Sierra’s equally-chocolatey pancakes, he tried to focus on eating and talking warmly with his friends. 

But all Cyrus could think about was Merlin.

“I know who I am now / And all that you've made of me / I know who you are now / And I name you my enemy.”

Chapter Text

There You Are (by Zayn)

“Friends that I rely on don't come through / They run like the river, but not you.”

“You’re going to grow flowers? Flowers. Really? Of all the classes you invite us to sit in on, it’s you just . . . growing flowers?” 

That question came from Rachel. It was just him and her and Jia, their shoes crunching against the school’s expansive lawn. It was early enough in the day — just after breakfast — that not many people were around yet.

Even so, the stares that Cyrus normally received didn’t escape him on their journey. Some gave double-takes. Some waved. Some just quickly avoided eye contact. Just like Cyrus, Rachel and Jia had become well-known both here and from Oppenheimer— both for entirely different reasons.

Despite being here for a month, it still filled Cyrus with an odd feeling, to know why they stared. He had done this before, at least, in a similar situation. At Oppenheimer, he’d been used to everyone knowing of his existence. It was an easy guess why. He’d been the only one there from the UK school, all easy smiles and half-faked spaceyness and brimming with Clairvoyant powers they didn’t understand.

Now, he was stared at for two things: being one of the only Clairvoyant teachers, and for being an Old One. It was probably for the second reason that their stares always lingered, stuck to him like sweetened honey. Maybe by now, he’d finally grown on them. Just a little. 

“Growing flowers sounds less like Time magic to me,” Rachel continued, breaking Cyrus out of his thoughts. “More like gardening. Did you just become a gardener over the past three years and not tell us?” She paused, shaking her head. “Actually, you know what? I’d expect that from you. Doing something random like that.” 

From Rachel’s other side, Jia pinched her girlfriend’s arm, which made Rachel recoil and made Cyrus grin. “You can’t just say that to him.”

“What? It’s true! You know it is.” 

“. . . Yeah, okay.” Jia cracked a smile, this time at Cyrus. “I could kinda see that from you too.” 

When he stopped to do it, Cyrus liked envisioning that idea. Him spending the last three years at some far-away English garden, wearing a straw-brim hat and hands burying seeds into the earth. He imagined dirt, soggy from rain, squishing between the pads of his fingers. Watching things grow without hurting them, in real time. 

Honestly, it wasn’t too far off from what he’d been doing in between the battle of D.C and Maryland and now. Doing anything that squashed the resemblance between the old, naive-about-his-family Cyrus, and the new and improved version. The one who was still trying to figure out the things that he liked, places he belonged, now that he was finally free of certain blood-relation, humanity-loathing tyrants. 

“I did try a lot of new things,” Cyrus admitted to his friends, not exactly confirming or denying what they’d suspected he had done to occupy his time. “What I’m doing today, though? It’s not exactly gardening. We will be growing flowers, though not in the way you’re imagining.”

Rachel raised an eyebrow. “In what way, Future Boy?”

He explained to them he was practicing speeding up time with his students. This week, they’d learn to speed up time first on objects (it was easier to start off that way), then on themselves. And what better way to practice speeding up time then on something that visibly grew, like flowers? 

“Ellora and I came up with the idea,” Cyrus added. “She thinks it’ll be a good plan to merge our two classes together for the ‘gardening’, as you called it. She thinks it might help sway her students in my favor, to see me teach.” He paused, tilting his head. “Or, the ones that used to be mine and switched to her class.” 

Jia looked concerned. “You sure her students will like that?” 

“Maybe not.” Definitely not. “But that’s why it’ll help, having you guys there! You just being there will vouch for my character.” He grinned. “Plus, I could finally teach you some Time magic.”

He could already sense it— Rachel’s excitement, soon followed by Jia’s. Rachel pointed a finger at him. “As long as you don’t teach in the same vague, cryptic way Merlin does, I’m in.” 

“Me, acting like Merlin?” Cyrus waved a hand. “You don’t need to worry about that. We’ve got very different teaching methods, so he probably taught you all wrong!” He crinkled his eyebrows at their skeptical looks. “And, when have I ever been vague and cryptic?”

Rachel coughed. Jia looked away. Their silence caught up with him, speaking volumes. 

Huh, okay, Cyrus thought. 

When they reached the wide patch of flowers buried along the side of the school, Ellora was already there. Judging from the way she was crouched down next to the flower beds, Cyrus could only assume she was practicing her magic— just to make sure it worked perfectly before their shared class started. She glanced up at the sound of footsteps against the grass, soaking up their three familiar faces in the mid-morning light. 

“You’re here!” Ellora got to her feet, and Cyrus saw her dust the traces of dirt off her knees. Her eyes, mostly, lingered on Cyrus. “So, about our class. You’re sure you want to do this?”

Cyrus knew what she meant. She was asking just what Jia had asked him minutes before, to see if Cyrus was sure combining their classes for today’s lesson was a good idea. Given, well, his pretty obvious reputation. He exchanged glances with Rachel and Jia, both looking a little wary for him, before Cyrus nodded. “I am. This’ll be good, showing them how Time magic is all done.” 

“Or it could be a disaster,” Rachel said under her breath. Cyrus pretended not to hear that. Or more accurately, he turned and gave her a curious stare. She shrugged and said it was nothing. 

“You guys should get set up, before class starts,” Ellora suggested, her eyes on Jia and Rachel. 

“Of course, your seats!” Cyrus said, and motioned for them to follow him. “Follow me. I’ll show you both which ones are yours.”

“Seats?” Rachel said, sounding amused. “Are the desks invisible?”

“They sure are.” He led them only a few feet away, towards the general area where the students would sit. Cyrus splayed his hands out like he was presenting a prize on a game show. “Here it is! You guys get front row.” 

“Oh, score. We’re the only ones who have front row, right? Because we’re friends with you and Ellora, so we get special privileges and everything?” 

“Um . . . one-hundred percent.” Cyrus nodded, and started to wonder if he should’ve created a VIP section for his friends or something. He hadn’t really sectioned off rows; it was kind of impossible to, without the actual rows of desks his real classroom provided. It was hard to imagine with all this space, Jia and Rachel would be the only ones in the front row. But not wanting to discourage Rachel, he said nothing. 

Anyway, what were old friends for, if not telling each other they were given special privileges in each other’s classes? At least, Cyrus’s limited knowledge of how a real friendship was supposed to work, told him that. 

While Rachel bent forward, starting to feel for invisible desks with her hands, Jia rolled her eyes and pulled a picnic blanket out of her backpack. She fanned it out, laying it out across the grass. “Anyway. Uh . . . where is everyone?” Jia’s head turned, looking behind them. “Class starts in almost ten minutes.”

Her words caused Cyrus to freeze, just for a second. Caught up with his friends’ conversation, he hadn’t fully allowed his gaze to sweep across the “classroom”, which could only be best described in air quotes. Really, it wasn’t a classroom. It was grass, littered with shriveled orange leaves. No signs indicating THIS IS THE TIME MAGIC CLASSROOM. 

It could’ve been for that reason that no one had arrived. Maybe the students had collectively, not been able to figure out yet where class today was located, even though Cyrus and Ellora had posted slabs of paper on the front of their classroom doors, describing how to get to class, in case anyone had missed the announcement. But if it was Cyrus, he would’ve just used his future vision to find out where class would be held, in case he forgot. 

Had the students all forgotten? Or had they shied away altogether from Cyrus’s teaching, deciding enough was enough? The most basic Clairvoyant, future-seeing spells were learned— the same ones Cyrus had been “limited” to during his year of attending the Oppenheimer school. Now that his students were going into more advanced territory, especially with the Timeless One as their teacher, maybe they were rethinking things.

“Relax, they’ll be here,” Jia’s girlfriend replied. From the way she glanced sideways at Cyrus, he had a feeling she was assuring him, too. “All my students show up like, two seconds before class starts.”

“Um, that’s your class. Everyone gets there pretty early to mine. Maybe I’m just the better teacher?”

“Hey! Uncalled for.” 

The arguments started, as they often did, but Cyrus knew better than to question any ill intent between them. He slid past Rachel and Jia, and kneeled beside Ellora, who pressed rubber gloves into his hands. She assured him not to check with his future vision; their students would be here. And she was right. 

Over the next several minutes, they trickled in— a blur of kids and adults. Some, Cyrus recognized from his own class— either ones who were currently still in it, or had dropped out and transferred to Ellora’s class. Others he didn’t recognize at all, had probably been in Ellora’s classes from the start. 

It was obvious which ones noticed — and were subsequently nervous about — his identity as the Timeless One. He was still a mystery to them. An all-too-human appearing Old One, who could, in their eyes, turn against them at any point. It’d always been hard for Cyrus to find much of anything that made him uneasy (why should it, when he usually could see what was coming?), but the hot suspicion on their faces, few and far between, made his skin crawl.

As people started to get settled in, finding patches of grass to occupy, Cyrus realized he was missing one familiar face. It wasn’t just Jia and Rachel he’d invited to attend his and Ellora’s joint class today. Inviting Fort, of course, was a given. He was the first person Cyrus even thought to invite. Because for a while, a long while, Fort was the first and only person willing to attend anything Cyrus invited him to. 

But now that he remembered, Cyrus realized he didn’t see his friend anywhere. His heart dropped. Just for good measure, he scanned the flocks of incoming students a few times, hoping to catch a glimpse of Fort. He’d invited him in between bites of oatmeal at breakfast, while he and Ellora had gone over their plans for teaching. 

Somehow, it didn’t seem as important that all the students show up, giving Cyrus a better chance to prove himself “good” to more people. If Fort didn’t come, when Cyrus needed him here . . . he had no idea what would happen. 

As usual when in these kinds of situations, and to give himself a comfortable dose of predictability, Cyrus stopped to check his future vision. All other sounds dulled away as he faded into visions of the future, looking four minutes in, eight minutes in. Seventeen, thirty-four. His magic showed the most likely probable future, but there was still no sign of his friend. What else would Fort be doing, if not attending Cyrus’s class for the first time, just as he’d promised to?

He was about to look at other likely probable futures, searching for one where Fort did show up soon, when Ellora’s voice pulled him out of his latest vision. “Hey, we need to start.” He opened his eyes to see Ellora taking inventory of the crowd. “It looks like everyone’s here, right?”

“Almost everyone. We’re just missing one person. A special guest of ours, if you will.” He nodded to the first row, his eyes lingering on the empty patch of grass beside Jia and Rachel. 

Following his gaze, Ellora thankfully seemed to get it. “Wait, where’s Forsythe? He’s not here?” She turned her head to look around the lawn, as if their friend would magically appear.

He shrugged. “How would I know? Last time I saw him, I was with you at breakfast, remember? But I’d imagine he’s on his way. You know how he is, getting off into trouble . . . being late to things . . .”

She stared at him. “Yes, but . . . I figured you’d know where he is. You’re his roommate.” She lowered her voice. “Do you need to like . . . send him a message using Mind magic?”

Mind magic? Cyrus thought about it, then shook his head. If anything, Mind messages weren’t exactly his style. Messages were better sent in the form of visions via Time magic, where the Cyrus of the present could send Fort forward to speak to him in the future, so that Cyrus could give him a message. Because to the Timeless One, that was a walk in the park compared to connecting your mind with someone else’s. 

“Or, do you want to wait for him?” Ellora asked. She looked over the growing numbers in the gardens. “We can. But not for long—“ 

“No, it’s okay. I just didn’t realize he’d be . . .” Cyrus trailed off and tried to ignore the knot inside his stomach. “Why don’t we just start without him? I bet he’ll show up soon.”

An unmistakable whiff of doubt was in her voice. “Are you sure?”

“Oh, I’m positive,” he said, completely unsure this time. Who knew— maybe Cyrus’s future vision had presented him with the most likely probable future, but there were billions of probable future outcomes. Even if the first one he’d looked into hadn’t, there had to be tons of other outcomes where Fort showed up in time for class. Anything was possible. 

That thought reassured him, just enough, to go ahead with starting class anyway. He squeezed Ellora’s shoulder, offering her one of his usual easygoing smiles. “Ready to grow flowers?”

She laughed.

Just like that, their class started. They took turns introducing the purpose of the lesson, demonstrating how to speed up time. As always, the demonstration part was a breeze. It was what Cyrus liked the most— getting to put his knowledge of Time magic to good use, and watching the looks of fascination against the others’ faces when it worked. And worked. And worked. Like he was doing something right for humans, for a change. 

It was especially more enjoyable when he and Ellora could demonstrate side by side, exchanging smiles over the black glow of their hands. He couldn’t remember the last time he spent casting Time magic with a friend who liked Time as much as he did (did the Carmarthen Academy count, since he’d been there for such a short time?) 

After his and Ellora’s demonstrations were over, Ellora clapped her hands. “Okay everyone, we’re going to be passing around some seeds. Do some planting, and practice speeding up time!” She turned to Cyrus. “Assistant?”

Cyrus breathed out a chuckle. He liked that word. Assistant. Even though they were obviously co-teachers and equals, solely for today. If he was being honest, the concept of the Timeless One being someone’s Time magic assistant, and not the other way around, was quite amusing to him. 

“Right! Ellora and I will be walking around to check on each of you,” Cyrus said, hearing his voice sweep over the gardens. “Just call either of us over for help, and we can show you how it’s all done, if you’d like.” 

Flower seeds were distributed throughout, enough that everyone got at least five to practice with. Then came the part that came every class: allowing the students to start practicing the magic on their own. At this point, Cyrus would usually make his way around the classroom, watching everyone’s progress and keeping an eye out for someone who needed help. And someone always needed help. 

Today, though, he and Ellora took turns walking around different sections of the gardens. Watching as people’s hands took on familiar black glows, heads bent as they concentrated on their work. Stopping to answer the occasional question. Or in one case, to receive flowers that Rachel had grown and, thinking it’d be funny, tucked one into Cyrus’s curly silver hair, and another behind the curve of his ear. (He’d laughed easily as she’d done it, crouched in front of her and Jia).

So far, so good. 

The third time his friends waved him over, Cyrus was for once, hesitant. Rachel had only raised her hand because she felt like talking to him, not because she’d needed any actual help. 

Cyrus double-checked to make sure no one else needed help (no one did). He sighed, going the long way over to his friends. Every time he saw them, he also checked for Fort there, thinking he might’ve snuck in while Cyrus was teaching. But whenever he looked for him, his roommate was nowhere to be found. Halloween had been weeks ago, and yet, the spookiest thing to Cyrus was his friend’s disappearing act.

Reaching his friends, Cyrus asked, “Hello! Need some help?” Again, they probably didn’t. The magic part, they seemed to be learning fine on their own. But he’d indulge them anyway.

Instead of answering him, Jia patted the grass. “Sit down with us!”

“Oh, I don’t know if I—“ 

He did not need his future vision to see it coming. When Rachel grabbed for his sleeve, tugging him down to sit with them, he let her.

“Okay, but just for a minute,” Cyrus laughed. “Who knows if anyone else needs help with their magic.” Mostly, he didn’t want to hang out with them too long and appear unprofessional in front of his students. Then again, it wasn’t like anyone else was needing his help right now, anyway. So what better way to spend his time than with Rachel, Jia, and Fo— well, with Rachel and Jia? 

Rachel raised her eyebrows at him. “So, Time Boy. How’s it going?”

“Good, I think! Looks like everyone’s practicing is coming along nicely. As far as I can see, they’ve been learning fast.” 

“Guess you’re that good of a teacher.” Jia nudged his shoulder, which only made Cyrus’s face grow warm. It meant a lot, to know he was good at teaching humans. Or well, teaching humans without ulterior motives. The Old Ones in his family had a history of that. 

“You think I’m doing okay?” 

Instantly, they both nodded. “Yeah, you’re awesome at this!” Rachel said confidently. “You actually managed to make gardening seem fun.”

“Yeah, it is, right?”

“I have to agree,” Jia said. “You’ve been teaching for what, like a month? You look happy up there, Cyrus. You know . . . comfortable.” 

Cyrus couldn’t argue with that, not really. Despite the attention his identity as an Old One had brought, he was finding the teaching part easy. Enjoyable, even. Maybe because it gave him a new purpose, allowing him to really help humans for the first time. Or maybe just because Time magic itself was so familiar to him. 

His eyes crinkled around the edges. “Thanks, guys. That means . . . well, everything.” It really did, coming from Jia and Rachel. Knowing they had his back again, even if Cyrus didn’t really deserve it. He was grateful they thought so highly of him all the same. Actually highly of him. The Cyrus years ago might’ve cared little, but the Cyrus of today would’ve proved himself in a million different ways to get back the friendship they’d had. And slowly but surely, he was. 

He paused as he noticed a man in a purple jacket, one or two decades older than Cyrus, raise his hand. A few seconds in, and he already looked impatient. Cyrus didn’t see Ellora going to him, so he quickly pushed himself off the grass, giving his friends an apologetic smile. “I’ve got to go. Duty calls!”

“Good luck,” Jia called to him. As Cyrus walked away, he could hear her scolding Rachel for —apparently — setting something on fire. He didn’t turn back to see what it was. 

“Good morning!” Cyrus said, once he reached the man. Or Purple Jacket, as he started to call him in his head. “You have a question for me?”

Purple Jacket’s hand lowered. “What’s going on with this?” He gestured to the seeds he’d been working with. Only one of them seemed to have grown into a flower, but the rest were still buried into the dirt, unmoving. 

Cyrus crouched down to observe it. He sensed some Time magic there, embedded in the earth, but it definitely wasn’t the right amount. “Well . . . it appears you need a bit more Time magic to allow the seeds to grow.” 

He’d tried to say it gently, but the man released a loud sigh. “Obviously. So, what am I doing wrong? It’s not working.” 

“Would you like some help with it?”

A few, quick psychic visions told Cyrus that any response Purple Jacket gave would be reluctant and irritable. He stared at Cyrus for a moment, scowling, before shrugging his shoulders. “Fine. Just do it.” 

Cyrus began to wonder whether teaching some adults, like this man, how to do Time magic, was the best idea. But he couldn’t go back on his offer of help now, so he ignored the way he was being stared at and focused on the task in front of him. Hoping, that he was not somehow being offensive (who knew, really, the extent to what offended humans?). 

Cyrus dropped to his knees, hands digging into the dirt. “Okay. I’m going to practice on this one. And you can follow along.” A black glow started to surround his hands. He closed his eyes and pressed down, letting the dirt collect beneath his fingernails, almost reveling in the way it squished between the pads of his fingers. Smooth and powdery, reminding him of flour. 

“How are you enjoying it here?” he asked, simultaneously spreading Time magic into the seed below his fingers. “Learning magic?”

“It’s different. Fine, I guess. But I’m not very good at it.” 

Cyrus nodded. “You remind me of a good friend of mine. He wasn’t very skilled either, with magic. But he still managed to learn an entire language of—“

“Is this relevant to the lesson?” 

Cyrus just shrugged, realizing not everyone may like to hear about the remarkable Fort Fitzgerald. Unbothered by Purple Jacket’s comment, he continued seeping Time magic into the seed, stopping only once he saw a flower rise to the surface. The last thing he wanted to do while demonstrating was to speed up the flower’s time too much, as that would just cause it to wilt. He glanced at the man. 

“Now you try.” 

He watched as Purple Jacket placed his hands in the dirt like Cyrus had, and soon enough, the flower was starting to grow. Cyrus tossed him an excited look. “That’s it! You’re doing it!” 

And then, something unexpected happened. Something that Cyrus hadn’t quite foreseen, not until a second too late. A hint of blue amongst the black glow, on Purple Jacket’s hands. As the flower grew with age, it also began to grow in size. Individual petals stretched into the size of Cyrus’s hands, then his face. A green stem, peppered with thorns, shot up from the earth. Expanding in size so fast, that everyone within range were sent sprawling across the grass. Cyrus found himself staring, in wide-eyed confusion, at a giant flower that had come to life. 

That wasn’t supposed to happen.

Just like that, everything erupted into chaos. The flower monster started to move and attack anyone in its path, sending dirt spraying in every direction. Some were just staring at it in horror, while other students had made a run for it, their screams echoing in Cyrus’s ears. He quickly moved to push himself off the grass, only to trip as his foot caught on something. A rock. The ground cracked open and trembled. Then there was a shadow— the flower monster appearing right above him. 

“Rachel! Jia!” Cyrus screamed. He shook his foot away, or attempted to, but it was stuck fast against the rock. He couldn’t exactly escape with Time magic, not without freeing himself first. So instead, he struck the monster with a Time spell, watching as the flower began to age again. But just as he’d begun to get hopeful, it stopped aging before it could wilt. Seemingly, his magic had made it angrier. The flower monster sent a string of now-gigantic thorns hurtling toward him. 

Cyrus raised his hands quickly, moving to freeze them in time. But just before he could, the ground between him and the flower monster rose up, letting the thorns strike the rock instead. In fact, the entire earth surrounding the monster had risen, seemingly attempting to prevent it from moving. Then he felt two pairs of arms at his side, yanking him up. Rachel and Jia. He caught a glimpse of Rachel’s hands, which glowed red as she tried holding the spell. 

“What happened?” Rachel shouted. But as Cyrus saw, a minute into the future, the wall of earth that separated them from the flower monster wouldn’t hold for long. A burst of black Time magic surrounded them, as he moved them a short distance away, instantly reappearing out of the monster’s reach. In a flash, Ellora was beside them, asking Cyrus much of the same question. 

As best he could, Cyrus explained it to his friends. That it hadn’t been his magic, but the man he’d been with. Though, he wasn’t sure if it’d been on accident or on purpose. When learning magic, accidents happened all the time. Except . . . this shouldn’t have happened by accident with just Time magic, not unless—

“He mixed Time magic and Healing magic,” Jia whispered. “That’s why it grew like that. It’s like if I’d made one of my golems and ordered it to attack everything.”

Rachel’s eyes widened. “You think this guy ordered it to attack? Oh, he is so going down.” 

“Yeah. It wouldn’t attack like that otherwise!” 

Confusion rose inside Cyrus. “I don’t understand. He told me he was a beginner. That he was bad at magic.” 

“Clearly he lied,” Ellora said, and their heads swiveled to her. 

“Why would he lie about that? So he could attack our school?” 

When Cyrus sought the answer using his future vision, his froze. Not to attack the Utopia school itself. Just to attack the students in Cyrus’s class. To make Cyrus seem responsible for everything. In a few minutes, after they stopped the flower monster, things were only going to get worse. And everyone but his friends, were going to believe the man when he said Cyrus’s magic had caused the attack. Who wouldn’t believe that, when Cyrus had been sitting right beside him when it’d happened? 

Inwardly, Cyrus cursed himself for having not seen this coming. He’d combed through every possibility this morning, but nothing had shown him an outcome quite like this. Since when was the Timeless One underprepared? 

The wall of earth surrounding the monster started to crumble, more and more. It’d given most of the students enough time to run away or hide, while others seemed to be preparing to fight back with magic of their own. Cyrus glanced between his friends, who all looked ready to do the same. They’d beat it together, of course. He wasn’t worried about that. He was more worried about the looks of fear on his students’ faces, how soon enough, that would be directed towards him. He had to keep this from getting worse. 

The monster slammed its flowery head into the wall one last time, sending dirt in every direction. It was free. Immediately, Rachel and Jia jumped into action. A circle of Rachel’s appeared all around the plant monster, all pointing swords at it. Cyrus knew they were just illusions, so wouldn’t do any actual harm to it. After all, it was the same tactic Rachel had used when she’d fought him. But she must’ve used it now with the hope of distracting the monster. And for now, it worked. 

The monster spun, striking out at each one, causing each Rachel illusion to evaporate once it did. It gave Jia just enough time to start casting a Paralyze spell on it, which Cyrus knew, would be much more effective if he and Ellora contributed their own magic. Ellora reached for his hand. “Come on!” 

They both disappeared in a blur of black light. Cyrus instantly reappeared beside Jia, and Ellora beside Rachel. Raising his hands, Cyrus started to infiltrate the dirt below the flower monster with Time magic, watching as the ground it was standing on began to crumble with age. At the same time, Ellora tried speeding up time in the same way Cyrus had earlier, causing the monster to start wilting again. That, combined with Jia’s Paralyze spell, easily made it weaker. 

“Cyrus, now!” Rachel shouted. All of her illusions had faded, and despite everything, the flower monster struck out towards them. Cyrus took his attention off of the still-crumbling dirt, and sent Time magic directly for the monster. Only this time, he reversed the aging process. Fast. The flower monster started to shrink in size and age, not stopping until it’d reversed into a tiny seed on the ground. Barely noticeable in the grass, unless you squinted. 

Cheers started to break out among the students. Rachel yanked him into a tight hug. “You did it!”

“We did,” Cyrus corrected her. He squeezed her back, in blissful relief, face buried into her shoulder. He closed his eyes. Even while he knew what was about to happen, he was happy just to be here, existing in Rachel's arms. And then Ellora and Jia, whose arms wrapped around them, too, making Cyrus smile widely. 

“Excuse me!” said a voice. Their hug broke apart, and Cyrus turned to see the man from earlier, storming over to them. “Why are you congratulating him?” 

They all looked at Cyrus. Ellora frowned. “I don’t know, because he helped save us?” 

Carefully, Cyrus leaned down to pick up the seed, before offering it to him. “Will you be wanting this back?”

Purple Jacket glared at him. “No.” He swept his gaze among the other students, who were starting to crowd around them, now that the coast was clear. “You all need to know the truth. We all know the stories about how dangerous Old Ones are? This boy— this Old One—“ He pointed at Cyrus. “He did something to the flower I was growing! He caused this, because he wants revenge on all of us!” 

“No!” Cyrus protested, eyes widening in horror. “I don’t want that!” Maybe his family did, but not him! 

“Are you insane?” Ellora jumped to his defense. “He would never do something like this!” Cyrus’s friends were shaking their heads, too, glaring back at the man. At least they didn’t believe him.

“No?” Purple Jacket looked between the students. “He was with me when it happened.”

“So?” Jia said, voice low. “Where’s your proof?” 

The man groaned. “I saw him do something to it. Who else would have this motivation to attack people like this? To attack humans like this?” 

A murmur broke out among the other students. Just as Cyrus had feared, they were starting to believe the man. 

“Okay, this is going way too far,” Rachel grumbled, and Cyrus could only agree.

As Rachel started to argue back with the man, who only seemed to be growing angrier, Cyrus felt Ellora squeeze his hand. “It’s okay. We’ll get everyone to believe us. But this isn’t your fault. You’re only human, you know?” Her face turned red, as she seemed to realize what she’d said. “Or, uh . . . you know what I mean.” 

Cyrus started to nod, before he stopped. “No,” he whispered.

He didn’t want to accept it. Why should he, when this would only drive students further away from him? Especially when people could’ve gotten hurt during his class, and he hadn’t been able to prevent it? He was going to fix this in the best way he knew how. No matter how many times it took. Whatever it took, to try and create a home here. Because if he didn't — if he was forced to leave the Utopia school — he'd bring about the same future that Merlin had warned would happen if Cyrus left: being trapped in the Faerie Queen's dungeon for the second time, surrounded by a family he never wanted to face again. 

“No?” Ellora repeated, sounding confused. Then, her eyes widened. “Wait, Cyrus, I think I see what you’re about—“ 

He reversed time. Reset it, really. In professional Time magic terms, you could specify it as a time loop. There was the familiar glow of black, and then, he was snapped back to the beginning of class. Except this time, he hoped, would bring about different outcomes. One where everything went smoothly, and the monster attack never happened in the first place. 

Even better, one where Fort showed up like he’d told Cyrus he would. Yes, Cyrus had made sure to include his wayward friend in the time loop, too. Because somehow, he made everything better for Cyrus. If Cyrus could just align the outcome of his class with Fort appearing and no attack happening, as that surely was one possibility, everything would end up okay. Going exactly the way he planned it to. And if it didn’t, he’d wipe that from existence and start again. And again. 

Rewriting the events of time into something he wanted always came easy to Cyrus before, after all. So the next class— or really, the same class repeated— would surely be better. 

But it wasn’t.

He went through the motions of his class in the same way he had before. Him and Ellora instructing how to speed up time. Answering questions. Assisting students. Hanging out with Rachel and Jia— but to Cyrus’s disappointment, still no Fort. When the same man from the original timeline raised his hand, Cyrus assisted him, but was more careful in his instructions. Despite that, the flower monster appeared again, leaving fingers pointed at Cyrus.

No. Cyrus wasn’t giving up. He looped time again— same outcome. Once more, twice more. Each time, he did something different in an attempt to sway events in his favor. He asked of Fort’s whereabouts to Rachel, Jia, and Ellora, who said they’d try and get in touch with him. In a variety of different ways. But even then, Fort did not come. The knot that’d been in Cyrus’s stomach, left there from Fort’s unexplained absence, tripled in size. 

When it came to preventing the man from using whatever magic he’d used to conjure the flower monster, Cyrus was even less successful. Every time loop, he always raised his hand. Ellora was always off helping a different student, meaning that Cyrus hadn’t much of a choice in the matter. If he refrained from going over to the man, he’d thought, that would solve things. Cyrus spent a few classes pretending to have not seen the man raise his hand, but that usually resulted in either Rachel or Jia telling him to help the student.

Nothing seemed to be working. Why wasn’t this working? This sort of Time magic had always worked out in Cyrus’s favor, before. And he’d keep going, until it did. Yet, it didn’t, and all the while, Cyrus’s desperation grew. It grew and grew as he looped time again and again and again, trying to produce an outcome that no longer seemed possible. But Cyrus tried anyway. Just one last time. 

Sometimes, he thought, it was so impossible to live life backward. 

It was noon when class had ended, for the seventeenth time. Some things were just fated to go wrong. And in this scenerio, there was nothing left to do but let fate run its course. He’d already gone through the morning so many times that it was a relief when it was over, no matter how badly Cyrus had wanted his class to turn out differently. 

He was more than happy to wish Ellora, Rachel, and Jia goodbye, ready to be done teaching for the day and pretend all had gone well. Except it hadn’t. Cyrus had tried using Time magic, and it still hadn’t. In the past, he could’ve just as easily discovered something he didn’t want to happen, and changed it with ease. Oh, how he’d taken it for granted back then. 

Instead of going straight back to his dorm room, Cyrus made a stop for the dormitory’s kitchen. That was something Oppenheimer had never had, since the only place to eat was the cafeteria. At Utopia, it seemed, a community kitchen was offered to anyone who felt like using it. The few times he’d walked past, it was to see the Chads setting something on fire or Damian standing by the microwave, impatiently watching the glowing numbers on the screen count down. 

Today, the kitchen was empty. To the Timeless One, it was nicer that way. Easier to slip in and out, without having to deal with any more ill-intended comments or uncomfortable glances. More than likely, he wouldn’t have to worry too much about anyone else coming in here. Assuming word got around of just how badly Cyrus’s class had gone, the other boys in the dorm, like Damian, the Chads, Sebastian . . . would steer clear of Cyrus. 

Well, they’d steer extra clear of Cyrus. 

There was the exception of Trey and Michael, and by extension, Gabriel— the only boys (aside from Fort) who seemed to genuinely like Cyrus now. He couldn’t quite figure out why Michael always returned the smiles Cyrus sent his way, when they passed each other in the hall, but Cyrus was getting used to the unexpected warmth from red-haired boy. Any suspicion that Cyrus had had, telling him that Michael must’ve resented Cyrus in the same way he resented the other Old Ones, was starting to crumble away. 

Despite this, Cyrus was glad to be alone in the kitchen for today. He wanted to think. And what better way to do it, than over making toast? 

It wasn’t like Cyrus couldn’t just conjure up a snack for himself using magic. Almost everyone did, using Creation magic. Still, after using Time magic on a loop today (a literal one), Cyrus was drained and not at all opposed to making food the normal way. As always, extra glass jars of tightly-enclosed condiments and loaves of white and multigrain bread lined the mostly-untouched cupboards, perfectly preserved thanks to someone casting Time magic over the contents. He slid out two pieces of bread, a jar of untouched peanut butter, and got to work. 

Halfway through Cyrus preparing his snack, the kitchen door swung open. Even without turning around, Cyrus could tell, a moment later, that it was Fort. One quick look into his future helped clear up that detail. 

“Fort! Nice to see you again.” There was something forced in Cyrus’s voice. He didn’t know what it was, exactly. Because it was nice to see his friend again. It always was. Wasn’t it? 

“How did you know it was . . . uh, never-mind. Didn’t think I’d find you in here.” Fort paused. “What are you doing?”

“Making toast with peanut butter on top— quite a good snack. Want any?”

“No, thanks.” 

He must’ve speared the peanut butter across the surface of the bread five times, before he realized he needed more peanut butter. He dipped the knife in the jar, and started over again. Fort’s footsteps grew louder behind Cyrus, and then he stopped. 

“I’ve had the worst morning, Cyrus. I think I got stuck in a time loop somehow, and no matter what I did I kept getting reset to me leaving the cafeteria. Then they just . . . stopped?” 

The knife tightened in Cyrus’s hand. “Stopped?” His voice came out light, surprised even. “Really?” 

Fort exhaled shakily. “Yeah. I thought I was going crazy. You’ve, um, gone through time loops before, right?“ 

“Oh, yes. Countless times.” Cyrus did not elaborate. He was starting to realize he’d rather stick to the vague answers he was prone to. Because up until now, even for someone with future vision, it had not occurred to Cyrus that Fort would confront him about this. 

Seconds passed. Many of them. All Cyrus could hear was the spearing of peanut butter against toast, before Fort spoke. “Why are you being so quiet?” 

“I’m not being quiet.”

“You’re never this quiet.” His best friend appeared through his peripheral vision, just enough for Cyrus to see the baseball cap that covered Fort’s dark hair. “Can you help me or something? With the time loops? You didn’t really answer my question.” 

“Well, you only asked me if I’ve experienced them before. And I have. Besides, they’re over now, right?” Cyrus smiled sideways at him. “Nothing to worry about there.”

Fort rolled his eyes. “You know that’s not all I meant. How does that even happen randomly, anyway?” 

For a moment, guilt tore through Cyrus, nearly enough to overpower his hurt over Fort not showing up for him. Nearly.

“Most aren’t random. At least, they aren’t in the movies you’ve probably seen.” Cyrus felt his smile slowly fade. “And this . . . it wasn’t exactly random, either.” 

Fort’s eyebrows raised. “What does that mean? Cyrus?” 

Cyrus lifted the knife away from the two slices of peanut butter-coated toast. Thick and creamy, with peanut butter oozing over the sides of the bread. He reached for a napkin and wiped the sticky remains of the condiment from the knife he’d been using, before letting it clatter into the sink. All the while, Fort stared at him like he was ten seconds away from having a mental breakdown. Typical Fort expression.

Cyrus sighed, brushing a hand through his curls, fingers faintly sticky against them. There was nothing else to do but come out with it. “Those time loops you went through today? I created them.”  

“Wait, you what now?” Disbelief, maybe even horror, filled up Fort’s face. “It was you causing those time loops?”

“Of course! Each one.” Cyrus said it like it was obvious. To him, it was. “They were only a last resort, you know? I figured you’d forgotten I invited you to my class this morning, so I thought some good old-fashioned Time magic could guide you over. I was hoping it would work, but doesn’t seem like it did.” He scratched his head. “I wonder what went wrong.” 

“You wonder what— are you . . . you’re being serious?” 

“Very serious. You forgot about my class, didn’t you?” Cyrus felt himself soften. It was fine if Fort had forgotten. At least it meant he hadn’t abandoned Cyrus on purpose. Not like so many others had, after discovering he was the Timeless One. Not after losing his family for good.  

“I didn’t forget, okay?” Fort hissed. “Look, I was trying to come to your class, it just didn’t work out that way. Something came up.” His expression became more guilty. “That’s not the point.”

I didn’t forget. The words replayed themselves in Cyrus’s brain, like a record player set on repeat. So something else had come up, something Fort had just decided not to tell Cyrus. Why hadn’t Fort just told Cyrus, from the beginning, that he couldn’t make it? Since when did they — discounting the first few months they’d known each other — not tell each other things? 

“Not the point?” Cyrus threw him a confused look. He turned to face Fort fully. “Isn’t that the only point? I thought you wanted to see me teach.” 

“I did!” Fort insisted. “I do. But if I were you, my first reaction would’ve not been to create an entire time loop just because my friend didn’t come to watch me teach. I would’ve . . . I don’t know, called them on the phone or something. Or sent a Mind magic message.” 

Cyrus let out a soft laugh. “Fort, you know me. I don’t have a phone, and I’m not very skilled with Mind magic. And I’m not quite seeing the issue about me using Time magic. I did it for you!” 

Fort scoffed. “How was that helping me? What if I’d been stuck like that forever?”

“I wouldn’t have let it come to that,” Cyrus muttered, more to himself than to Fort. 

But Fort didn’t seem to be listening to him. His voice, unlike Cyrus’s, was only getting louder. “Not to mention that if I’m stuck in a time loop forever, and I start to age, or start going crazy . . . people would flip out. Especially my dad.” 

“Sometimes, it does help if you’re already a little bit crazy,” Cyrus suggested lightly. “Most Time magic students are— I was told my classmates back at the UK school went quite insane. Except for me, of course. Though I added the ‘except me’ part myself, which makes me wonder if . . . ah well. You know that story already.” He took a bite of his toast, the crunching sound loud against his ears. 

Fort glared at him. “Can you not act so relaxed for one second? Seriously, what if I hadn’t gotten out?”  

Cyrus set his toast back down, dusting his hands off. “Don’t worry, you would’ve. Time loops are very easy to get out of.”

“Easy for you!”

Oh. It started to occur to Cyrus that he might be taking this a little too casually. Not everyone viewed Time magic as harmless and easy as Cyrus did. Somehow, he was unable to stop viewing it that way. In the past, things had always been easily solved via Time magic. With time loops and time travel. With erasing moments and timelines from existence. He was starting to understand, since the battle of DC and Maryland, that not everything could be fixed with Time magic. Not an easy thing for an Old One of Time to learn. 

“I know, I’m sorry.” Guilt punctured Cyrus’s chest again. “Easy for me, yes. If you’d come to my class, though, the time loops would’ve ended on their own. Either way, I stopped them, when I realized they weren’t helping. I just hoped for you to show up, if you could. The way things were meant to go.”

When Cyrus met his eyes, Fort was shaking his head. “That’s still not okay. You put me in those time loops. Like, manipulating your magic to control my actions? That’s something the old you would do!” 

Cyrus should not have been shocked by the accusation in Fort’s voice. Somehow, he still was. “No, that wasn’t what this was,” Cyrus protested. “I only did that because you weren’t there. You promised you’d be there.” He gave Fort a hurt look. “I thought we didn’t lie to each other anymore.”

“Oh, yeah?” Fort shot back. “I thought we didn’t manipulate each other with Time magic anymore! That’s totally against the rules!”

Right. The “rules” of their friendship. It’d been a long time since Cyrus had really thought of them, not since Fort had first agreed to them being friends again. Only after setting some clear rules between them: no more lying, no more manipulating, no more betraying. For obvious reasons, the line of trust between them had been thin at the time. Barely there, unless you squinted. The rules were needed, all because of Cyrus. 

Though, Cyrus knew it wasn’t just him to blame. It seemed they’d both broken some rules today. 

But had it really been that bad? You could say that the last time Cyrus had purposely used Time magic to manipulate someone, it’d been to alter Fort’s and his friends’ actions, so they’d unknowingly lead to Cyrus’s family becoming free. But this time around, the intent had been very different. All he’d wanted was to conjure a reality where Fort might show up to support Cyrus like he’d promised to. Where his class went right and nothing went wrong, like flower attacks pinned on Cyrus, worsening Cyrus’s chances of teaching here. 

Yet every single time loop, Fort hadn’t shown up. The attacks had persisted. And Cyrus had kept trying to force things to work out in his favor, anyway. Just like he had when he’d been working towards getting his family back. 

What if Fort was right? Maybe Cyrus was reverting to his past self’s tendencies. He hadn’t seen it that way before. To him, it’d all been a well-intended way to fix events that needed fixing and help friends keep their promises when they made them. Had making time loops been a little desperate? Sure. But now that he saw it the way Fort had, it scared him. More, ashamed him. What had he been doing? Maybe he hadn’t grown as much as he’d thought, between this version of himself and the past Cyrus. 

“When you do things like this,” Fort added, almost too bitterly. “It makes me remember why its taken me so long to trust you again.”

The ache that’d existed in Cyrus skyrocketed, turning into a sharp pain that wedged itself into Cyrus’s chest. Then he was moving, away from Fort, away from the community kitchen, and Fort was scrambling after him. Reaching him just as Cyrus pushed their dorm door open, and slipping inside before Cyrus could slam it closed. 

“Wait, wait!“ 

For once, Cyrus wished they didn’t share a room. The space felt all too small, and he was tempted to make a quick getaway with Time magic. Just needing to not hear the all-too-truthful accusations leave his best friend’s mouth. 

He started to do just that. But before he could disappear into nothingness, Fort reached out to stop him. “Hey! Don’t do that. You can’t just Time magic your way out of everything. That’s all I’m saying.” 

“But you don’t trust me? You’re saying that too, aren’t you?” 

“I never said I didn’t trust you! I just said . . . ugh, look. I’m just mad. I didn’t mean for it to come out that way.“ 

“But you think I’m acting like my old self?” Cyrus narrowed his eyes. His hands were still glowing with black Time magic, and yet, Fort didn’t recoil away like he might’ve years ago. “I’m . . . doing the best that I can.”

“I know. I know you are. Just . . . don’t go away.” 

Slowly, the darkness around Cyrus’s fingers evaporated. It occurred to Cyrus that his eyes must’ve been glowing black, too, and he hadn’t even realized. He saw some of the tension release from Fort’s shoulders.

“Sorry.” Fort’s voice had lowered significantly, though Cyrus could still hear it. Traces of anger, that Fort now seemed like he was attempting to bury. “That was harsh. I, um, didn’t mean to imply you were still evil or something.”

Too late, Cyrus thought. He squeezed his eyes shut. “Fort, I didn’t mean to . . . I would never purposely try to manipulate you with my magic again.” 

“. . . I know. You didn’t mean it that way,” his best friend said, causing Cyrus to ease somewhat with relief. He sighed. “I’m sorry I didn’t tell you I wasn’t coming. I got held up on . . . whatever. That wasn’t fair of me.” 

“I’m sorry, too. For everything.” Cyrus shook his head slowly, opening his eyes again. “Fort, there’s a reason I made those time loops. I only—“

To his surprise, Fort jumped in before Cyrus could finish. Acting far more forgiving than Fort would’ve treated him in the past. “You don’t need to explain anything. I get it. Teaching here is a big deal to you, and I guess me being there was, too, so . . . you probably did this for a good reason.”

“Yes, I did.” Cyrus blinked a few times. “But it was still wrong of me to do. And I’ll never violate your trust like that again. Not with my magic. I promise.” 

He must’ve said the right thing, because his friend relaxed slightly. Which was a relief to Cyrus, because he could vividly remember a time, back in the Faerie Queen’s cell, when Fort would never believe a promise Cyrus made. His chest started to swell with pride. And then Fort spoke, and that feeling came crashing down. 

“I’m trying to trust that,” Fort told him. “I’m trying to trust you completely, its just— its gonna take time.” Cyrus looked down, blinking back disappointment, and Fort let out a breath. “Look, it’s not only with you. It takes a lot for me to really trust anyone.” 

Cyrus waited for that feeling to come. The feeling that always came when the subject of trust was brought up in conversation, making him wonder whether they’d lost progress that had taken so long to build. He waited to feel the way he’d felt when Fort had looked at him three years ago under a blood-red sky, knowing from then on, nothing would ever be the same between them. He waited to feel how he’d felt the first time they’d seen each other again in the dungeon, or the handful of times after Cyrus and Fort tried being friends again, when forgiveness came paired with rules and boundaries. He waited, but the feeling did not come. In its place was something gentler, more understanding. 

“It’s alright,” Cyrus said. “And I still want to be honest with you about why I made those time loops. It wasn’t just because I’d hope you’d come. I had to make them.” 

Something new came over Fort’s expression. He shifted closer to Cyrus. “Why? Did something happen?”

Here came the hard part. He quickly summarized what’d happened in class, not missing the horror on Fort’s face when he knew, then, about all the details. “. . . created this monster that started attacking the others. Claimed it was made of Time magic. Said it was me who’d created it, as I’d been helping him. And everyone in class, they all . . .” 

“They believed that guy?” Fort guessed, sounding disgusted on Cyrus’s behalf. “Time magic can’t even do that, can it?” 

The Old One smiled faintly. “No, as far as I’m aware. That’s how it all started. I wanted to prevent the attack from happening, and I thought if I could get you to show up, too . . . well, everything would turn out okay.” 

“That wasn’t your fault. At all. It was that guy you were helping! If I’d just been there, I could’ve . . .” Fort trailed off. Based on his reddening face, Cyrus could only guess what his friend had been about to say. 

“It’s okay,” Cyrus reassured him. “It’s all done now. And it was my fault. I couldn’t stop it. Even when I did something different in each time loop, in an attempt to alter the outcome, the attack was fate. It should’ve been easy for me to change, but . . . I suppose my magic isn’t quite as powerful anymore.” It was one thing to already be aware of that, but another thing entirely to experience it firsthand. 

“I guess not.” Fort’s forehead wrinkled, and Cyrus heard the guilt in his voice, ten times stronger now. “I’m sorry— I really am. Next time, I will be there for you. I mean it.” He cringed. “But if I can’t, please don’t send me into another time loop?”

An unexpected laugh rolled out of Cyrus’s mouth. But he could sense Fort’s anxiety there, too, and reminded himself of what he’d already promised his friend. “No, no, I’m past all that. Not unless you ask to be in one, of course.”

Fort groaned. “Seriously? Why would I ask to— never-mind.” But he was starting to smile, which was a success in Cyrus’s eyes. “Uh, Cyrus?”

“Yes?”

“I know I should’ve shown up anyway, but . . . why was it so important to you that I did? Knowing me, I probably would’ve messed your class up more.” 

Cyrus crinkled his brows. He didn’t believe that. “I could never think of you making it worse.”

He paused to think for a moment, not catching the fond look that crossed the other boy’s face. Why had he wanted Fort there so badly? The answer came to him, and he hesitated before saying it. “Well . . . all this time, I’ve been trying to hold onto what we have, in case . . .”

“In case what?”

“In case it goes away. I know I faked our friendship before and let you down, and . . . maybe this time, I wanted to be sure that this was real.” Cyrus’s eyes flickered between Fort’s, gaze softer now. “I feel like I’m always trying to prove that, to just . . . create a world where we’d never let each other down again.”

“Yeah,” Fort said quietly. “Yeah . . . I know what you mean. But it is real, this time. Things are different— or they will be.” He shrugged, giving Cyrus a comforting smile. “I just feel like . . . I don’t know, maybe second chances are kind of our thing.” 

Their thing. That seemed right. “You’re right.” He winked. “Second chances are kind of our thing.” 

But he was genuinely relieved and he could tell Fort was too, and for a moment, they just stared at each other, soaking up the regained peace that settled over them. Even so, he could still see the guilt that flickered across Fort’s face. No doubt, still wishing he could make things up to Cyrus. That gave him an idea. 

Moving over to the floor beside his bed, he sat down, and Fort did the same. They were sitting so close that Cyrus’s shoulder was pressed against Fort’s, and the contact grounded him.

“Hey,” he whispered, reaching under his bed and passing one of his mystery novels to Fort— his favorite out of the bunch. It landed with a light smack in the other boy’s lap. “This oughta cheer you up.” 

With some notable surprise, Fort stared down at the cover. “Whoa. You still have this?”

Maybe it was the warm sunlight streaming in from the window, or the relief of having made up, but a sudden wave of tiredness washed over Cyrus. Only inches away, he blinked slowly at Fort. “I went back for them at some point. Remember how much we loved these?”

Fort laughed a little. “Right, I almost forgot. I think you loved them more than I did.” He held Cyrus’s eyes. “I’m glad you kept them with you.” 

He seemed to mean that.

“Read to me?” Cyrus asked hopefully.

That’s what they used to do, sometime after discovering the books at the second Oppenheimer school. They’d flip through them until Fort got bored and left Cyrus to keep reading. Or late at night, after everyone else had fallen asleep, they’d read to each other. Easily, those times were some of his favorites back at Oppenheimer. It was one of the rare moments he’d gotten Fort to laugh.

“Sure,” Fort said. He cracked open the book, trying to peel away the pages to get to the first one. But Cyrus grinned, leaning over to stop him. 

“Start here,” he instructed, flipping through until he found the chapter he wanted. “It’s my favorite part.”

As Fort began to read, Cyrus nestled his head against his friend’s shoulder, barely noticing the way Fort tensed at the sudden contact. Maybe it was his sleepiness effecting things, but it’d been a long time since Cyrus had found the courage to initiate something like that. A beat passed, and Fort slowly relaxed, allowing Cyrus to settle against him. Cyrus’s knees and feet, encased in patterned socks, moved to rest comfortably against Fort, who seemed to gradually melt right back into him.

Fort continued reading, and Cyrus listened until the words repeated themselves. Listening to every inflection in his voice, every switch in tone he made. Watching his knuckles clutch the pages. Speaking in a way that made stories real. But they were far from danger here, even as Fort spoke of nothing but danger. Something in Cyrus’s heart dissolved. Knowing if he could map this moment out like stars, he would.

“Only you know me the way you know me / Only you forgive me when I'm sorry."

Art made by me:

Chapter Text

Catabolic Seed (by the Scary Jokes)

“Oh, what's a devil to do / When those old delusions so tried and true / Don't come through like they used to?”

The day before the start of what Americans labeled ‘Thanksgiving break’, Cyrus and Fort were running late to a teachers’ meeting. 

In their defense, they’d just come from Cyrus’s last class of the week. Technically his last class of the day, which ended at 4:30 PM on a Friday. The meeting started at 4:30. Convenient for other teachers like the Chads or Rachel or Sierra, who Cyrus knew were especially close by to the meeting room area, and whose classes ended thirty minutes before. Fort’s last class, too, had gone until 3:00, giving him enough time to slip into the very back of Cyrus’s classroom unnoticed. Well, almost unnoticed.  

Because Cyrus had noticed. Just like he’d noticed when it’d happened two other times that week. He’d seen Fort’s eyes glued on him from the back of the room, caught glimpses of dark hair, the curve of his familiar face, and the fabric of whatever ages-old sweatshirt he’d chosen to wear that day. He never raised his hand to say anything like Cyrus’s other students — barely eleven of them now (four people in his class, who bought into the idea that Cyrus was the one who caused the attack, had dropped out after the incident with the flower monster). 

Fort just watched, showed up. Though strangely, Cyrus was content with that.

The first instance of this hadn’t even been during a class Cyrus was teaching. It’d been the afternoon following the Cyrus-threw-his-best-friend-into-a-time-loop-incident, as Cyrus was guiltily calling it inside his head, and Fort had emerged through their shared dormitory door unexpectedly smelling of bird seeds. A second later, Cyrus had corrected himself. Flower seeds.

Their conversation had gone something like this:

Cyrus was laying on his back, the mattress of his bed sinking beneath him. He’d been entertaining himself with the mystery novel Fort had been reading to him a few hours ago, though Cyrus had read it himself maybe six times. He hadn’t quite reached the end of the chapter when the door swung open and his friend burst into the room, smelling like . . . well, the last thing Cyrus expected Fort to smell like.  

“Hey,” Fort greeted him. “I have something for you.” Except ‘you’ was phrased more like a question, making Cyrus wonder why that was. 

“Oh yeah?” Instead of sitting up, Cyrus lowered his opened book to his stomach, tilting his head against the fading sunlight in an attempt to see Fort from a half-sideways, half-upside-down angle. He saw the brief, slightly blurry outline of Fort wearing green. Looking at him from this angle wasn’t quite working the way Cyrus had thought it would, so then he did sit up, letting the book slide onto the covers of the bed. 

His gaze fell on the bag of seeds in one of Fort’s hands, and a small pot of dirt in the other. Wait. What?

“So . . . okay, I know I missed your class this morning.” He reluctantly met Cyrus’s eyes, some nervousness spreading into his voice. “But I thought you could teach me now?”

 All of the sudden, it was like every bad feeling that lingered inside Cyrus was gone, replaced by something incredibly softer. Everything was soft, his feelings and all the bones in Cyrus’s body and even the particles in the air. Like an alive thing. 

Yet all Cyrus could say was, “Oh.”

“Oh?”

Yes. He should’ve said more. His heart squished itself inside his chest. “I could. But — where did you get all that? Ellora and I used up all the seeds for our class.”

“Don’t ask.” Fort set the pot of dirt down, putting the seeds next to it. “I sorta teleported around to a bunch of stores, looking for seeds to buy. I wasn’t sure where to find any. Helio, he, um . . . helped me out with that.” His face turned its usual red. If Cyrus was being honest, his face was very close to doing the same. 

“You didn’t have to do that. Really, Fort. It’s alright, now. I’ve told you it’s alright.”

“No, I did have to do this. I want to make this up to you. And… I’ve also never gotten to see you teach. It was important to you that I showed up. So, I’m here now.” He’d looked away. “I mean, if it’s too late I can try and return the dirt, and the seeds, but I’m not even sure if I asked for a receipt—“ And then Fort had continued on, starting to stumble over his words in the way Cyrus had been so fond of, ever since their first meeting at the Stone Circle at Stonehenge.  

The afternoon had ended with many failed attempts to use Time magic on Fort’s end and a lot of joy on Cyrus’s, who didn’t even care when Fort struggled to grow much of anything at all. Who’d just felt a warmth in his chest, when their friends had noticed the traces of dirt on their arms and hands and fingernails over dinner, and they traded secret smiles across opposite ends of the dining hall table. 

Cyrus had thought that’d be it. That once that happened, once Fort had made the effort to make it up to Cyrus, it’d be over. No need to do anything more. After all, everything was forgiven. He thought it always would be that way, with matters between them. But then, Fort did that thing again— surprising Cyrus, this time with his visits to class. And Cyrus wondered why it bothered him less than it used to when a surprise came his way. 

His best friend really had taken his promise to show up for him seriously. Cyrus had said it was fine, that Fort didn’t need to come watch any of his classes at all. He knew Fort supported him, knew he cared. Fort didn’t have to prove it. But Fort must’ve felt undoubtedly guilty, or stubborn, or both. Because four days had passed since the time loop incident, and Fort had already attended two of Cyrus’s classes. Three, counting today.

He said he would’ve sat in on more, but that would conflict with Fort’s own teaching schedule— the class he taught with Ember, on everything to do with Creation magic and the dragons. And Cyrus was pretty sure that Fort, who wasn’t so much a fan of Time magic compared to the other types, would rather not have the same lessons about speeding up time drilled into his head. Despite all this, he had tried making it clear to Cyrus that he thought otherwise, so much that Cyrus himself was almost convinced. 

Beside him, Cyrus heard Fort’s voice, as they staggered down two adjoining staircases. “—and you’re seriously sure you’ve never taught Time magic before this? Not even once?” 

Just as his friends had a few days prior, Fort had been dropping pretty obvious hints that Cyrus was good at teaching— well, in his opinion. At the moment, Cyrus’s face felt unusually warm. “No, not really! I didn’t exactly have any desire to teach humans anything until . . . you know, now. I’m just happy you liked it!”

Enough to come watch Cyrus more than once. But Cyrus did not mention that part, as it was a given. 

“Why wouldn’t I? I don’t even like Time magic that much, and I liked your class. I don’t get how all the students who left your class don’t see that.” 

“Because I’m an Old One?” Cyrus pointed out, maybe too nonchalantly, judging by the look Fort gave him afterwards. 

“Still.” Fort sighed. “You know what I mean. Even if they think you’re still evil, or whatever, they should be able to recognize how good of a teacher you are.” 

As they exited the stairwell and headed out into the hallway below, Cyrus realized he was smiling widely. His chest loosening at the action. “I believe it’s just you who thinks that.”

His friend blushed. “Not just me! There’s Jia and Rachel, Ellora—”

“Okay . . . yes, you’re right. But mostly you.” He gently bumped their shoulders together. “You’ve beaten the world record of friends who’ve sat in on my classes.”

“World record?” Fort had shaken his head, in a who even says that? kind of way. “Seriously?”

He watched Fort grin, and Cyrus couldn’t help the relief that automatically filled him— especially after their fight just the other day. He wondered what was so satisfying about seeing Fort smile over anyone else. Or why that stuck with him for many moments after, unable to replace that image from the foreground of his mind. 

Maybe he recognized, Fort’s happiness had always seemed far-between and fleeting. Maybe that’s why it was so nice to witness. 

“Seriously.” A hint of a laugh caught in Cyrus’s throat. “And I’m not sure whether my former students care if I’m a good teacher.”

“What?” Fort stopped in his tracks, twisting around to face Cyrus. “That’s not true. They do.”

It was just them in the white marble-coated hallway. For a moment, Cyrus forgot they were running late to a meeting. None of that mattered. Not compared to Fort, standing there in front of him. 

Cyrus looked down. He was quieter than he thought he’d be, when he spoke. “I don’t know about that.” He shrugged his shoulders. “But, well . . . okay. You seem sure.”

"Yeah. Trust me. I am sure.” His best friend’s voice seemed gentler than usual. Cyrus couldn’t tell if he was imagining it. “Why . . . why wouldn’t they?”

“Many reasons.” His eyes found Fort’s again, smiling faintly, almost bitterly. It faded quickly. “For all they know, I could just be pretending I want to help humans. I wouldn’t be the first Old One to do that sort of thing.”

Oftentimes, Cyrus found that his choice of words tended to make his best friend uneasy. Now was no different, as Fort made a face, before looking away. “Uh, yeah . . . I guess you wouldn’t. But you’re not doing that now. And they definitely don’t think that.”

“How do you know?”

That seemed to stump Fort. He grappled for words. “I just know. I— I mean— they think you’re a good teacher. If you want, I can like . . . invade their minds or something. Just to confirm it.”

Which of course, just made Cyrus laugh again, the sound crisp and clear in the empty hallway. 

“What?” Fort continued. “Sierra does it all the time, especially to me. So . . . why not, right?” 

“Yeah, why not?” Cyrus echoed, half-joking, in the same way he assumed Fort probably was. He paused for a moment, shaking his head slowly. “I thought you didn’t like invading other people’s minds.”

“I mean . . . I don’t.” Fort took a deep breath. “It just feels really weird to read someone’s mind, unless I get permission and everything. But, I’d do it, if . . .” His roommate was starting to look embarrassed. 

A part of Cyrus was tempted to look into the future, to verify out loud what his friend was going to most likely say. But even without checking, Cyrus already had an idea. 

His eyes only flickered between Fort’s own, softer than before. Reaching out, he squeezed Fort’s forearm. Dropped it, afterward. “We should . . . keep heading over, Fort.”

“. . . Yeah. Okay.”

With some reluctance, they kept walking. 

Even now, nearly two months after arriving at the Utopia school, it was easy for Cyrus to feel lost in the labyrinth of marble hallways. At least Fort, more familiar with the building than he was, knew exactly how to get from Cyrus’s classroom to the specific meeting room someone had reserved for this occasion. Nothing quite like the informal meetings Cyrus and his friends had weeks ago, when they’d been discussing the aftermath of Cyrus’s identity reveal, broadcasted on worldwide television.

The most Cyrus could do was help Fort out with his future vision, seeing which routes would take them the fastest to get there. They managed to avoid any that involved running into Damian (more for Fort’s sake than for Cyrus’s) or news reporters, who despite having slowly dwindled in their numbers, still liked to come around every day in attempts to cover an interview with the Old One of Time. News about the flower monster attack seemed to have gotten around, as nowadays Cyrus’s future visions were soaked with a surge of flashing cameras and suspicion-filled questions. 

His friends had again, given Cyrus the recommendation to continue trying to keep himself out of the spotlight. So had Helio. And so had Fort’s father, his voice vaguely staticky over the speaker, after wishing Fort good night over the phone. As if it was that easy. Because of course, with Cyrus’s luck, it wasn’t just the news reporters whose attention had been snagged. 

Mostly, Cyrus thought, people had adjusted to the idea of him being here by now. Maybe even started to look past him being an Old One. But it seemed, despite Cyrus’s hope that his class with Ellora would win more people over to his side, that had not been the case. No matter how unthreatening they’d started to perceive him, most of that progress had evaporated after someone — most likely, the man who’d first accused Cyrus of causing the attack — spread the news of what had happened in Cyrus’s class. 

Sierra had attempted using Mind magic to convince his and Ellora’s class (and now, well, the entire school) that it had not been Cyrus’s fault at all. The suggestion had worked for the most part. But in the days that followed, Cyrus had heard traces of lingering doubt, built off rumors of inhuman boys who’d once been evil. He heard it in whispers in the halls of his boys’ dormitory, or in the dining hall, the rare times he could pick out pieces of legibility amidst the roaring conversation. 

Fort attending classes for him though, seemed to have eased the discomfort that might’ve normally existed within Cyrus. The feeling was still there, just made better, knowing there was one person who’d always made Cyrus feel like he belonged here. Just as Cyrus assumed— no— hoped he had done for Fort, way back to the inside of the aggressively-green walls of Oppenheimer. Because if anyone knew what it was like to not belong, it was Fort— the only student at the Oppenheimer School not born on Discovery Day. 

In Cyrus’s head, it made sense that it was each other, who gave them that sense of unspoken, full-stop belonging. Because why wouldn’t it be? For someone who was cursed by time to live among ‘lesser beings’, as an old version of Cyrus would say, making a home for himself here, without the comfort of his banished family, had always been like trying to fit two misaligned puzzle pieces together. Never quite working, even if you forced it. That kind of belonging that had always slipped like grains of sand through Cyrus’s fingers. At Carmarthen. At Oppenheimer. Of course, now at Utopia. 

He just hoped for once, it wouldn’t continue to stay that way.

They found the meeting room on the first floor, room number ‘108’, five minutes late. Or maybe 107? Cyrus barely had a chance to take in the number beside the door, appearing in dark lettering, before he and Fort quickly slipped inside to join the others. The group inside was larger than when it was just Cyrus and his friends meeting together. 

Sitting around a round wooden table were pretty much all of the teachers at Utopia, even Gabriel and Damian, who didn’t always come when the teachers all had to meet (which hadn’t been often, in Cyrus’s fairly short time here). A side effect to being late— only two seats were available. Cyrus found an empty chair in between Ellora and Trey, and looked up to see Fort sitting down beside Sebastian and Damian, who barely acknowledged his friend, all three of their faces a variation of discomfort and disgust. Yikes.

“Could you two have possibly gotten here any later?” Sebastian asked, narrowed eyes drifting from Fort to Cyrus. 

As Cyrus settled in, something on the table in front of him caught his attention. Someone, probably some other teacher here at Utopia, had sketched a tiny cat’s face into the wood. Cyrus lightly ran his finger across the edges of it, marveling at the wonder of humans.

“We could have,” Cyrus said absently, gaze swiveling back up. “But I don’t see how that would’ve helped things.”

The other boy sighed deeply in annoyance, and Damian rolled his eyes across the table, which made Cyrus wonder if he’d interpreted Sebastian’s words differently than he’d intended— maybe not as literal as Cyrus had initially taken them. But before Sebastian could say anything else, Rachel quickly cut in. 

“Anyway! Now that we’re all here, can we just start the meeting?” she said, and everyone nodded in response. “Fantastic. Gee and I have some announcements to go over.”

This didn’t surprise Cyrus. Since Rachel and Jia were the main teachers basically running the school, they sometimes had given out announcements during the few all-teacher meetings Cyrus had gone to. Or in other cases, it’d been announcements in the auditorium for the students, too. They’d already given one big announcement earlier this week, informing everyone about the upcoming Thanksgiving break. No classes for a week, meaning aside from Cyrus and his former classmates who decided to stay here over the break, the place would be pretty much deserted. 

“First of all, we wanted to give another reminder that Thanksgiving break is next week, so for those of you who keep asking me—” Rachel gave a pointed look at the Chads. “There are no classes. Please don’t show up to your classrooms, because no one will be there.”

Xenea crinkled her nose. “Is there a point to this human holiday? From what Forsythe has told me, it doesn’t seem like you all have much to be thankful for. Nothing that earns a week-long ‘break’, in my opinion.” She’d used air quotes when saying “break”.

Fort turned to stare at her in disbelief. “Really? You literally celebrated Thanksgiving with my family last year, and didn’t care when we had a break then.”

“Of course I didn’t!” Xenea smiled over at him. “How correct of you to notice, Forsythe. However, last year, your father’s pumpkin pie and lessons about ‘gratitude’ distracted me from the atrocities of some . . . turkey holiday to celebrate lesser beings. I won’t be so easily fooled this year.”

“Wait, that’s why you’re not coming to my house for Thanksgiving? Because you liked my dad’s pie too much?”

“Hello?” Rachel waved her hand. “Trying to give announcements here?” 

“Sorry!” Fort said quickly, and Xenea just shrugged indifferently. 

“Like I was saying, Thanksgiving break is next week, so you can either stay here or go home. Just be back by the 27^th, when classes restart.” Rachel checked the notepad in front of her. “Okay, next announcement!” Her eyes went to Jia. “Gee?”

Jia nodded, and folded her hands together on the table. “So for everyone who was here last year, you might remember what some of us did over break if we weren’t busy for the whole time.” 

The others seemed to recognize what she was referring to, but of course, Cyrus didn’t. He was glad when she continued speaking, filling in the gaps. “Last year, Rachel and I wanted to start this tradition called ‘Volunteer Day’—”

“‘Most Likely To’,” Rachel said at the same time. They both looked at each other.

“What?” Jia laughed a little. “Um, we didn’t agree on that name.”

“We didn’t agree on calling it ‘Volunteer Day’, either!”

“Calling it that makes more sense, though—”

Damian raised his hand, face contorted with confusion. “Wait, why would you call it ‘Most Likely To’? That makes no sense.”

Even though she’d basically just said the same thing, Jia said nothing. If Cyrus could guess, it was because saying something meant she’d have to agree on something with Damian, which he noticed none of his friends ever, at least verbally, did.

“First of all, because it sounds more awesome,” Rachel said proudly, earning a small sigh from her girlfriend. “But also, its like . . . we’re assigning the people that are most likely to help others, based on the magic they’re best at.” She paused, sharing another look with Jia. “But . . . we’ll continue the debate on the name later?”

Cyrus watched Jia squeeze her hand. 

“So, to continue, this event Rachel and I came up with, again, is one where we volunteer to help other people with our magic,” Jia explained. “For people who don’t want to learn certain types of magic or magic in general, and want to hire some experts to do things for them. We asked people to mail or call in their requests, so some of us will be visiting these people in their homes this week, helping them out. We probably won’t need everyone, so is there anyone who doesn’t want to volunteer this year?”

No one raised their hand. Not even Damian or Xenea or Gabriel. Not even the people who’d talked about going home for all or most of the break, to Cyrus’s surprise. Excitement rippled through Cyrus. Here it was— a new way to help humans, even beyond just teaching. 

“Okay, cool!” Rachel said. “We got a few requests so far from people around the country, so Gee and I will assign you guys based on the types of magic they need help with.” For the next few minutes, she and Jia huddled over a list of what must’ve been requests on Rachel’s lined notepad, exchanging whispers and pointing at various people in the room. 

The rest of the group talked quietly amongst themselves as they waited, and Cyrus found himself immersed in conversation with Ellora. His fellow old Carmarthen classmate was updating him about how her latest class had gone, sharing smiles through it, and he was once again struck by how different their relationship had become, just since Cyrus had come to school here. Strange. How had he once considered her a simple pawn in his chess game across time, to someone he’d very much like to stay friends with? 

It was nice to say he had more than one friend, for once. He could say that now!— between Rachel and Jia and Ellora and Fort. Maybe even Ember, on days she didn’t seem so hasty to eat him. 

Cyrus glanced back at Rachel and Jia, who were still working on everyone’s assignments, before turning back to Ellora. “Last year, what did you do for this?”

“Last year?” Ellora’s expression turned thoughtful. “I don’t really remember what everyone else did. But I was assigned to this woman who lost her husband like, ten years ago. She asked me to time-travel her back to go see him.” She shrugged. “Not like I could bring him back to life or anything, but . . . I think she felt better after.”

“Oh. I know what that’s like.”

He must’ve said it far too vaguely, because she stared at him, seemingly taken aback. “What, being married?” Though from her tone, he could tell she was joking. 

“No.” Cyrus chuckled briefly, but did amuse himself by indulging in the concept. The only version of Cyrus that’d be married as of now would have to be Merlin, although the very thought horrified Cyrus. First of all, Merlin would never be able to hide such an enormous thing from Cyrus. Yes, he could hide the truth about Atlantis, magic being erased, and the seventh book of magic, but not that. And second, anyone wanting to marry Merlin was just incomprehensible, and again, incredibly concerning from Cyrus’s point of view. But he didn’t mention that to Ellora.

Adding on, he grew more serious. “I just meant I know what that’s like, using Time magic to try seeing the people you . . .” he trailed off, just loud enough for Ellora to hear. His friend seemed to know what he was referring to, and said nothing, just squeezing his shoulder.  

Clearly, Ellora couldn’t relate to that concept. Not many people could. He didn’t know anyone in his life who did, not even close, except maybe for—

Jia’s voice cut through their group’s conversation. “Okay! We’ve decided on the assignments.” 

Collectively, everyone grew quiet, as Rachel and Jia started listing off volunteer jobs and who they thought would help that person best, based on their magic specialities. For some of them, they paired two or three teachers up, depending on the needs of the person they were helping. 

When Cyrus’s name was called, it was alongside Gabriel’s. To help a man named Mr. Dawson, who they’d visit the home of tomorrow night, all the way in Missouri— a place Cyrus was sure he’d only visited once before, in the mid-1600s. Rachel and Jia didn’t have many details on the man, only that he needed someone who specialized in Time magic, and someone who was good with Summoning magic. If that was the case, Cyrus was tempted to ask if he and Fort could be partners, instead. Fort was great at Summoning magic, right?

But Fort had already been paired with Sierra for something else, looking genuinely excited to work together. Cyrus’s heart sank, just a little. 

No, this was fine. It’d give him a chance to spend time with Gabriel— something that didn’t happen often. Who last time Cyrus had checked, hadn’t fought much for Cyrus to stay at the school. At one of their meetings a month ago, following all the chaos of the world finding out Cyrus’s identity, Gabriel had emphasized there was nothing they could do if the students didn’t like having an Old One at their school. 

However for the most part, Gabriel tolerated and was even mediocrely nice to him, not seeming to hold Michael’s entrapment with Cyrus’s family against him. So Cyrus concluded, it was much better than being paired up with someone else like Xenea or Damian, who’d have a long way to go before they ever warmed up to Cyrus. Not that Cyrus cared very much, when it came to putting in the effort to warm up to them. 

Though this wasn’t even about that. It was about getting to help humans, to be a good person, for once in his life. The very thing Cyrus had been aching and aching to do, even back when he hadn’t known it, after learning the truth of his family’s completely-unnecessary hatred. 

They’d lied so much that Cyrus wondered whether they’d started to believe it, that cycle of lies that lasted for millennia, that humans had brought the downfall of Atlantis. As if humans were evolved enough for that sort of thing, at the time. 

His family had believed it, too. This thought reassured him, then didn’t. What was he doing, pretending they’d believed their own lies? They’d believed that Cyrus believed them. And Cyrus had, so that was enough. 

Sensing his thoughts were going in a direction that usually made Cyrus’s stomach clench, he forced them away, trying to focus on the present. Everyone made their way out of the meeting room, Rachel and Jia handed everyone folders of the people they were assigned to. Gabriel grabbed their folder for them, appearing at Cyrus’s side. 

“Ready for this?” Gabriel asked. He’d started to flip through the pages of the folder. 

Cyrus nodded at him. “Ready.”

It was nighttime the next day, around the dusky, starlit hours of the evening, when Cyrus and Gabriel arrived at the front steps of the man’s house. The glowing green teleportation circle had just evaporated into nothingness behind them, leaving them standing in the cold November air.

Earlier today, the two of them had gone over the man’s file, just so they were more prepared for their assignment. Though, there really hadn’t been much information at all, aside from the details of where this man lived, his age, and the type of magic he was requesting assistance with: Time magic and Summoning magic.

They knocked on the door. A moment later, the door creaked open slowly, revealing an old man standing on the other side. He squinted at them through thin-rimmed glasses. “Yes?”

Cyrus smiled at him. “Hello, Mr. Dawson? I’m Cyrus, and this is my colleague, Gabriel. We’re here because you requested our magical capabilities, with Time magic and Summoning magic.” 

The old man only looked at him blankly, and confusion barreled through Cyrus— had that not been the proper greeting for humans, saying ‘hello’? Even now, after spending so much time among them, he was never quite sure. 

Beside him, Gabriel grimaced. “We’re from the Utopia School of Magic. Does that ring any bells?”