When we get to the top of the stairs and walk into the building, my jaw drops. This one doesn’t look like the inside of a cooler. It looks like Google’s headquarters.

“Welcome to the campus HQ. This is one of our main office blocks.” Sora waves at a few people who walk past and greet her.

I look around curiously. There are people sitting at shared desks, typing on laptops; others lounging on beanbag chairs while drinking coffee from reusable cups; and kids playing with dogs in the designated playground areas. I spy two huge gumball machines—one full of Skittles and the other with M&M’s—and a big vending machine with the largest variety of Pepero sticks I’ve ever seen. The walls seem to double as whiteboards, and people have scribbled notes, spells, and illustrations all over them. One section has Knowledge and Truth spelled out in impressive graffiti.

Taeyo sees my expression and grins. “Sora says we started using tech to strengthen our spellwork way before we were cut off from the community. And afterward, even though we lost access to our sacred texts, we figured out a way to upload as much of the knowledge as we had left to the Cloud.” He holds up his phone. “My spellbook’s in here now.” He then waves to the space around us. “Who needs a temple when you have all this, amirite?”

Sora smiles and puts her hand around Taeyo’s shoulders. “By relying on the Horangi hive mind around the world, we also managed to hack the five sacred elements on Earth so we can do magic without a Gi.”

I stare wide-eyed at them and down at their Gi-less wrists. “Is that how you were controlling water before?” I ask Taeyo. “And you, wood?” I say to Sora.

Taeyo proudly holds up his wrist. “Some of our best scholars programmed a biochip that can be inserted into the wrist and do the job of a Gi. Without the need for divine intervention.”

I frown, not following.

Sora explains. “In a traditional Gi ceremony, the cauldron reveals the element you’re not born with. The focus is on what you lack. And then the goddesses channel their divine power through the witch’s Gi for the witch to do magic.”

“Yeah,” I say. “That’s how it’s always been, for thousands of years.”

“But we posed the question: What if there’s another way—one that doesn’t require the divine? What if, instead of focusing on what we lack, we focus on what we already possess?”

I think of the four fires revealed at my Gi ceremony and cringe. I didn’t lack just one element—I lacked almost all of them.