The Elementalists

JOHN

I walk behind Peter, listening to his consistent mumblings as we trudge around the school's grounds for clues. He keeps mumbling under his breath, and I catch the words, "Robin," "death," and "have to find her," a lot.

"Bro," I say, "are you okay? You sound like one of those people who lose their sanity before they turn eighteen."

"I'm not going insane," Peter mutters. "Just... worried about... losing them..."

"Pete," I say, "don't worry. I'm sure we'll save them." I quickly add, "Plus, who wouldn't go insane if they were told they had magical powers and had to fight or die? I'm honestly surprised that we're all still sane."

"Well," Peter says, "I'm not so sure that Jamal's still sane, but as for the rest of us, yeah, it's pretty surprising."

"I'm pretty sure Jamal lost his mind even before he learned that he could fly like Tinkerbell," I say with a grin. "Now," I say, getting back to business, "we have to find Robin and Mark. That is our top priority! We. Are. Hunters. Duhm duhm duhm duhm, duhm duhm duhm!"

"Dude," Peter chuckles, "you just ripped that off of the Farmer's Insurance commercial."

"So what?" I ask. "Are they gonna sue me? I'd like to see them try."

"If government men can drive a van through the school's wall during our P.E. class," Peter says, "then I'm pretty sure that Farmer's Insurance can sue you for stealing their slogan."

"Ploopy," I growl, "you ruin all of my fun. You wouldn't even let me push Jamal off of the building."

"He's our friend," Peter explain. "If we kill him, Mark will kill us."

Peter nods. "Good," he says. "Now, let's look for clues."

I nod. "We should split up," I suggest. "You go left, I'll go right, and if one of us finds something, we yell out. Sound good?"

Peter nods. "Sounds good," he says, and then he heads left. I smile and head to my right.

Five minutes pass, and I've found nothing but grass. Another five minutes pass, then ten, then another ten, and I've still found nothing. I'm about to give up after another thirty minutes have passed, but then I hear Peter yell out a triumphed, "Ah-ha!"

I run over to him, and ask what he's found, has he found anything, is it a clue? Peter laughs and holds a small slip of paper up in triumph.

"Robin must have dropped this when she got shot," he explains. "It's a list of each of us and our elements! And look," he adds, "right here, scribbled on the back, some-thing's written. It's not Robin's handwriting, either; it looks like one of the government men wrote this."

Peter hands me the slip of paper, and I turn it over so I can read what's written on the back. I read it slowly, carefully, making sure not to miss a single word. When I'm finished, I say, "It looks like... a prophecy?"

"What?" Peter asks. "Let me see!" He tries to grab the paper out of my hand, but I jump out of the way. "Give it back, John!"

"No," I say, "I'll read it to you. I just wonder what this has to do with anything; it's obviously not about us." Peter raises his eyebrows in a question, and I begin to read aloud the words of the prophecy.

"'Seven children of six elements
And two of darkness.
Both must find the light inside
Or the world is at risk.
The boy of death and the boy of spirit,
The boy of snow who lost everything to fire,
The boy of ash who lost everything to time itself.
They warn of a traitor in the midst of it all.'"

I look up at Peter, who says, "Okay, that's freaking creepy."

I nod. "I think there's more to it," I say, "but a lot of it is marked out, and this paper is ripped as well."

Peter looks up at the sky and says, "We best show the others what we found, I suppose."

I nod. "Yup," I say, "let's head back."

But I can't help the chills that travel down my spine. That prophecy isn't about us, I think to myself, but it involves us.

And they didn't even bother to make it rhyme!