Extracted by Tyler H. Jolley & Sherry D. Ficklin

  LEX

  Inside the stream, something is churning. Normally, the time stream only moves in one direction—forward—and we are either swimming with it or against it. This is different. I’m rolling helplessly, end over end, as if I’m being beaten against the rocks in a churning sea. I can’t get my bearings. There is no backward or forward, just the relentless rolling. My stomach pitches, threatening to lose its contents. It’s all I can do to keep it down. I feel something damp rolling down my neck. Reaching up, I touch it, then bring my hand to my ear and open my eyes just long enough to see that the tips of my fingers are covered in blood. I’m bleeding from my ear.

  I’m on the verge of hysteria. This shouldn’t be happening. None of this makes sense. This isn’t how it’s supposed to be. I scream, but no sound comes out. All I can hear is the wind rushing past my ears.

  Something slams into me and I stumble back, landing on a hard, wet surface. I lie there for a while, just trying to breathe. When the dizziness eventually fades, I blink and look up to see Ethan standing over me. He’s panting, and sweat has soaked through his shirt. Nobel is on his knees next to me in the grass outside the Tower.

  “Lex, can you hear me?”

  There is a loud ringing in my ears, but I can just make out the sound of his voice.

  “Yeah. Sort of.” My hand smacks the side of my head, but it only makes the ringing worse.

  “I think you blew an eardrum, but you’ll be fine.” He looks to Ethan, who, I notice, has a similar trickle of blood leaking from his nose. “What happened?”

  Ethan’s still panting, so I answer. “There’s something really wrong with the stream. Are Ember and Stein back yet?”

  Nobel shakes his head. Ethan falls to his knees, closing his eyes as he pulls patches of grass into his fists. I don’t know if he’s praying or just sick, but I close my eyes and say a prayer. They are going to need all the help they can get.