I wipe the blood and dust from my hands. They leave a stain on my jumpsuit, and I glance back at the filthy tracks my shoes have left in the plush cream-colored carpeting. I haven’t slept or showered since the Dismantling yesterday. Every waking hour has been spent putting out fires as one small crisis bled into the next. The lightning storms over London started late last night, power outages and trees falling down like dominoes across the UK. By this morning, high winds had ravaged the coast of France, and the tidal surges had reached Portugal by noon. Meanwhile, some freak sandstorms buried an entire city in Tunisia. I’m too exhausted to see straight and everything hurts. I don’t know what the hell to do.

An hour ago, I locked myself in my office and stopped time, just so I could steal a few hours of sleep in my desk chair, but the minute I dozed off, my grip on the magic was broken, and Lixue knocked on the door with more bad news.

We lost nine Seasons in less than twenty-four hours. Two were in the wind when their seasons ended and we couldn’t get their stasis chambers back online in time to bring them home. Two others ditched their transmitters and deserted together. Another was swept off the ley lines when the power grid flickered. The sooner we can start tracking down the freed Seasons and deserters, the better. We need every region accounted for to get these storms under control.

The aftershocks of Gaia’s quake have the whole Observatory rattled. We had to shut down the Wi-Fi in the dorms to keep the panic from spreading after a handful of Summers got it into their heads to bust out of their rooms. March’s team got carried away when they went to quash the riot, and now I’ll have to replace four dead Summers before June.

I pour myself a glass of water from a decanter on the credenza. It’s warm and stagnant and does nothing to cool the burn in my chest. I sink down into the sofa. Cupping one hand, I summon a small flame, just to remind myself that I can. I’ve mastered new magic before. Learned to wield it without pain. I can do it again.

The flame grows, awakening the burn of the frostbite on my palm. With a hiss, I close my fist.