I drop my bag and turn, running back up the stairs, pushing and fighting against the flow of bodies. Someone behind me calls my name, but I don’t stop.
I run out of the assembly hall and toward the trees.
“Nox!” I yell, frantically scanning the ground. “Nox!” I shout again, running farther away from the assembly hall.
A huge crack sounds in the sky, and rain pours from the clouds. Large, thick drops drench me in seconds. I wipe the water from my face and rush into the trees.
“Nox!” I’m deep in the woods now, searching for any sign of him. Keep running, keep looking. My ankle rolls off a large root, and I crash into the dirt, a jolt of pain shooting up my leg. I ignore it and force myself back up.
A second thunderstorm follows closely behind the first, making it difficult to see. It’s so dark.
I have to find Nox. My ankle throbs, and when I put weight on it, I almost fall back down.
The entire sky flashes as lightning tears through the clouds.
One.
Two.
Boom!
The thunder is so loud it reverberates in my chest. Settles in my stomach.
Then I see him, I finally see him, in the arms of someone I don’t know.
I rush toward them and grab Nox. He’s shaking, and his fur is soaked, but he’s here. He’s safe.
“He was hiding next to the shed when I locked up,” the guy says. “Is he yours?”
I nod. Nox’s rescuer is Asian, tall and lean with golden-bronze skin and thick black hair that’s soaked through with rain. His long-sleeved thermal shirt clings to his skin, and his hands are caked with dirt.
“Thank you.” My face is shoved into Nox’s fur, muffling my words. “I’m Clara, and this is Equinox,” I say above the rain. “Nox for short.”
“Sang,” he returns.
The rain beats down on us. Another flash of lightning illuminates the dark clouds.
A loud crack tears the sky open. I jump back in time to see lightning strike a nearby tree. The ground shakes.
“We have to get out of here,” Sang yells.
We rush toward the assembly hall. I clutch Nox to my chest and run through the wind and rain and searing pain in my ankle. But when Sang and I round the corner, something in the distance catches my eye. I squint through the water pouring down my face and see three boys standing in the field. Their hands are tense and held open in front of them. A horrible feeling settles in my chest.
“What’s wrong?” Sang shouts over the wind.
I point to the students in the field. “We can’t leave them.”
Sang looks back toward the assembly hall and then up at the sky. Another bolt of lightning rips through the clouds, and thunder claps a second later. The sky stirs. It won’t be long before the two thunderstorms join together and a tornado hits our campus.
“Shit,” Sang says, but he runs toward the field.
“What are you doing?” I yell when we reach the boys. All three are freshman in intermediate weather control, but they aren’t strong enough to stop this.
None of them answers me. Their arms are tense, their faces strained. And every single one of them is about to be depleted.
I can feel it. When there’s too much energy in one weather system, you create an unending feedback loop with the sun, using more and more magic trying to stop a storm that’s only getting stronger. You can never get on top of it. If you stay stuck in the loop for too long, your magic burns out, almost like a short circuit.
I hand Nox to Sang and jump in front of the boys.
“You’re all being depleted!” I yell. “If you don’t stop, you’ll be stripped.”
But they’re too caught up in what they’re doing; they don’t even hear me. I grab one boy by the shoulders and shake. He looks dazed, but he stops pouring energy into the storm.
“Stop your friends before they’re both depleted,” I yell.
He grabs the other boys by the arms and pulls. They stumble forward, and it’s enough to break their concentration and dissipate the energy.
“Kevin, right?” I ask, looking at the first boy.
He nods. “We just—we thought we could help,” he says. He looks like he might cry.
All of us are drenched, and the wind whips around us, unrelenting.
“It’s too strong,” I say. “There’s nothing you can do, especially since you aren’t autumns.”
But then I understand: they’re springs, and that’s why they want to help. They’re best at dealing with tornadoes, because most tornadoes happen in spring. But they’re too weak now, too far outside their season to do much.
It’s up to the autumns, but tornadoes are difficult for them.
“We have to go. Now,” Sang says. Nox squirms in his arms.
But something is keeping me planted here. I don’t want to move.
“Clara,” Sang says.
I’m no longer certain I should run away. The storm is calling to me, reaching for me as if it wants to be held. The boys would’ve been depleted—too much energy, and not enough magic. But I’m stronger than they are, and if the storm calls and I answer, if I work with it, maybe I can stop this.
Ms. Suntile and Paige and Mr. Hart all believe I’m powerful, believe I can make a difference. I’ve never let myself think that way, because this isn’t the life I want for myself. But right now, as the sky churns and darkens above me, I wonder if they’re right.
Sang sees me gazing at the sky, head tilted in consideration.
“Clara, the storm is too powerful. Even if it’s your season, this is too much for any one of us.”
“She’s an Everwitch,” one of the boys says. I wait for some kind of reaction from Sang—wide eyes or hurried words or infinite questions. But his only reaction is the faintest pull of his lips, as if he wants
