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“These are the Consequences of her inaction. The Consequences shall be paid. The Keeper, though Mortal, will return to the Dark Fire from which all power comes.”

 

 

The Council Keeper removed Marian’s hood, and I could see her eyes, ringed with darkness. Her head was shaved, and she looked like a prisoner of war. “The Order is broken. Until the New Order comes forth, the Old Law must be upheld, and the Consequences paid.”

 

“Marian! You can’t let them—” I tried to push through the crowd, but the more I tried, the faster people surged forward, and the farther away she seemed.

 

Until I hit something, someone unmoving and unmovable. I looked up into the glassy stare of Lilian English.

 

Mrs. English? What is she doing here?

 

“Ethan?”

 

“Mrs. English. You have to help me. They have Marian Ashcroft. They’re going to hurt her, and it’s not her fault. She didn’t do anything!”

 

“What do you think of the judge now?”

 

“What?” She wasn’t making any sense.

 

“Your paper. It’s due on my desk tomorrow.”

 

“I know that. I’m not talking about my paper.” Didn’t she understand what was happening?

 

“I think you are.” Her voiced sounded different, unfamiliar.

 

“The judge is wrong. They’re all wrong.”

 

“Someone must be at fault. The Order is broken. If not Marian Ashcroft, then who is to blame?”

 

I didn’t have the answer. “I don’t know. My mom said—”

 

“Mothers lie,” Mrs. English said, her voice void of emotion. “To allow their children to live the great lie that is Mortal existence.”

 

I could feel my anger building. “Don’t talk about my mom. You don’t know her.”

 

“The Wheel of Fate. Your mother knows about that. The future is not predetermined. Only you can stop the Wheel from crushing Marian Ashcroft. From crushing them all.”

 

 

 

 

Mrs. English disappeared, and the room was empty. There was a smooth rowan doorway in front of me, recessed into the wall as if it had always been there. The Temporis Porta.

 

I reached for the handle. The second I touched it, I was on the other side again, standing in the Mortal tunnel, staring at Liv.

 

“Ethan! What happened?” She hugged me, and I felt a flicker of the connection that would always be between us.

 

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” I pulled back. Her smile faded, her cheeks turning bright pink as she realized what she had done. She swung her arms behind her back, clutching them awkwardly, like she wished she could make them disappear.

 

“What did you see? Where did you go?”

 

“I’m not exactly sure, but I know it was the Far Keep. I recognized two of the Keepers who came to the library. But I think it was the future.”

 

“The future? How do you know?” The wheels were already spinning in Liv’s mind.

 

“It was Marian’s trial, which hasn’t happened yet.”

 

Liv was twisting the pencil tucked behind her ear. “Temporis Porta means ‘Time Door.’ It could be possible.”

 

“Are you sure?” After what I’d seen, I hoped it was more of a warning—some sort of possible future that wasn’t set in stone.

 

“There’s no way to know, but if the Temporis Porta is some kind of portal, which seems likely, then you could have been seeing something that hasn’t happened yet. The actual future.” Liv started scribbling in her red notebook. I knew she wanted to remember every detail of this conversation.

 

“After what I saw, I hope you’re wrong.”

 

She stopped writing. “I suppose it wasn’t good, then?”

 

“No.” I stopped. “If that really was the future, we can’t let Marian go to that trial. Promise me. If they come again, you’ll help me keep her away from the Council. I don’t think she knows—”

 

“I promise.” Her face was dark and her voice cracked, and I knew that she was trying not to cry.

 

“Let’s hope there’s some other explanation.” But even as I said it, I knew there wasn’t. And so did Liv.

 

We retraced our steps, through the dirt, the heat, and the darkness, until I couldn’t feel anything except the weight of my world collapsing.

 

 

 

 

 

10.13

 

 

 

 

 

Golden Ticket

 

 

That night, after the visit from the Far Keep, Marian went into her house and didn’t come out again, as far as I could tell. The next day, I stopped by to see if she was okay. She didn’t answer the door, and she wasn’t at the library either. The day after that, I brought her mail up to the porch. I tried to look in her windows, but her shades were drawn, and the curtains, too.

 

I rang the bell again today, but she didn’t answer. I sat down on her front steps and leafed through her mail. Nothing out of the ordinary—bills. A letter from Duke University, probably about one of her research grants. And some kind of returned letter, but I didn’t recognize the address. Kings Langley.

 

Why was that familiar? My head felt foggy, like there was something at the edge of my memory I couldn’t reach.