Escaping that rusty, gloom-soaked cargo ship named Aurora Borealis happened exactly four weeks after we'd left New York. Somehow, the Pacific hadn't swallowed us whole—despite the added weight of being "Element Users," apparently—and had carried us, slow but persistent, all the way to Vladivostok, the far eastern edge of Russia. After weeks of nothing but the monotonous groaning of the ship and the rhythmic pounding of waves, even the prophetic scraps pinned to the walls of our RV had begun to feel… normal.
But the port?
The port hit us like a brick wall of chaos.
The moment we stepped off the ship, Vladivostok's steel-and-concrete frenzy crashed over us, a tidal wave of noise and movement. The isolated, dreamy atmosphere of our ocean voyage evaporated instantly. The shrieking of loading cranes, the roaring of truck engines, customs officers shouting sharp, incomprehensible Russian orders… For a moment, it felt as if we'd left a fantastical quest behind and stumbled straight into a logistical nightmare.
Harper was already tense as she tried to speak to the customs officer. She was used to the universal language of art; bureaucracy suffocated her creative soul. I, on the other hand, might've been proficient in analyzing the grammar of ancient languages—but apparently modern Russian was my personal mortal enemy. Thankfully, a few thick stacks of dollars I'd carried from the darker corners of my past still worked wonders. A few thousand in bribes ensured that my RV was pulled out from between the shipping containers without any trouble. Human greed and ingenuity… universal currencies, truly.
Once we got the RV out of the customs yard, both of us exhaled heavily. The RV was crusted with ocean salt and looked even more battered than before—but it was home. It was my sanctuary.
"Okay, Jessica," Harper said, clapping her hands together. The sickly green shade of her seasickness had finally faded, replaced by the bright orange glow of adventure. "So… what now? We've got, like, hundreds—no, thousands—of kilometers ahead of us. And judging by this map, the Altai Republic is literally at the edge of the world."
"Don't exaggerate, Harper," I said, mounting the map onto the dashboard. Control needed to be in my hands. If I didn't control the world, the world would control me. "We'll follow a direct route from Vladivostok to Altai. That's about two weeks of nonstop driving. The goal is speed. Thuban's Absolute Light won't wait for us forever."
"Two weeks?" Harper squeaked, her voice turning into a thin shriek. "In the car? Jess, I thought maybe I could tape a few paintings to the windows and you'd give a lecture on the history of every rock on the roadside. And besides—we're not just driving. We're going through Siberia. The taiga. Lake Baikal. The everything. We should explore a little. Maybe the second clue to the Sky Gate is carved onto a random stone on the side of the road!"
"The second clue is in the last line of the prophecy: Thuban's Absolute Light," I replied coolly. "We're archaeologists, not treasure hunters. And we don't have time for sightseeing. Did you forget Michael's face? The pain he was in?"
And that's when the first—and biggest—conflict of the trip began.My rational, linear thinking crashed headfirst into Harper's chaotic, artistic urge to explore. Just like Earth and Air. One wants to stay grounded; the other wants to fly.
My argument with Harper simmered for a good three minutes—three long, exhausting minutes—before we finally stopped glaring at each other like two mythological creatures forced to share a cave. She crossed her arms, defiant. I tightened my grip on the steering wheel, equally defiant.
And so our grand journey across Siberia began.
***
The road out of Vladivostok stretched ahead of us like an infinite gray ribbon lost between forests and fog. Siberia had a kind of beauty that wasn't polite. It didn't try to impress you; it simply existed—raw, silent, ancient. As if the Earth herself was reminding me of what I was connected to.
Being a newly awakened Earth Element User should've made me feel more at home.Spoiler: it didn't.
Instead, I felt like an intern thrown into a CEO position by accident.
Harper, on the other hand, was buzzing with energy—an absurd contrast to the desolate landscape.
"This is it!" she shouted dramatically, stretching her arms toward the cloudy sky as if about to deliver a monologue. "The Siberian highway! The legendary route of travelers! Poets! Wander—"
A gust of wind slammed into the RV.
Our RV.
My RV.
Which swayed dangerously.
I shot her a look. "Harper… was that you?"
Her eyes widened in alarm. "NO! Maybe? Look, air is very emotional, okay? It reacts to my mood. I'm passionate right now."
I groaned. "Fantastic. The atmosphere is literally having a mood swing with you."
"Hey! It's not my fault! I'm still new to this whole elemental goddess thing!"
"You called yourself a goddess?"
She shrugged. "If the shoe fits—"
The RV lurched left again.
"STOP FEELING THINGS FOR ONE SECOND!"
Harper puffed out her cheeks and attempted—physically—to hold in her emotions, like a child trying not to sneeze. It lasted all of three seconds before she let out a frustrated puff of air.
The wind blasted again.
I slapped my forehead. "I'm driving a vehicle through Siberia with a weather hazard in the passenger seat."
***
Of course, Harper wasn't the only danger.
Somewhere past Ussuriysk, when the landscape shifted to open plains, the RV hit a pothole the size of a crater. I instinctively grabbed onto the dashboard—and the ground outside the RV trembled.
Not a lot. Just a subtle shiver.
But I felt it.
Harper felt it.
And the Earth absolutely felt it.
She slowly turned to me, eyes wide."Jess… was
"No."
"It totally was
"NO."
"Jess, the road literally vibrated."
"That could have
But then t
I froze.
Harper squeaked. "STOP PANICKING YOU'RE MAKING THE EARTH PANIC!"
"I'm NOT panicking!"
"You literally ARE! The ground is having a meltdown!"
"I DO NOT MELT DOWN!"
Another tremor rolled through the soil, and a small crack zigzagged across the road behind us.
I exhaled through my nose, slowly and deliberately, before the universe decided to collapse out of embarrassment.
The crack stopped growing.
Harper clapped her hands. "Yay! Progress!"
I covered my face with both hands. "I hate everything about this."
Hours passed. Trees blurred. Mountains appeared in the distance. Harper hummed. I tried to ignore the fact that the road occasionally quivered under my emotional instability.
Somewhere around sunset, Harper demanded a break.
"I need art," she declared dramatically. "My soul is drying up. I'm becoming a raisin."
Fine. If she wanted art, she could have art.
We pulled over near a small clearing. The taiga spread around us like a dark ocean of pine and frost. Harper set up a mini easel and immediately started painting—something abstract, something chaotic, something very Harper.
I tried meditating—Harper had told me it would help stabilize my powers.
I sat cross-legged on the cold earth.
Closed my eyes.
Inhaled.
Exhaled.
And the ground under me rose an inch.
Just a tiny, tiny soil mound—like the Earth was trying to give me a reassuring pat.
Or… a nudge. As if it were saying:
You are my child. I will listen. Even when you don't want me to.
It was… unnervingly intimate.
"Jess," Harper called from behind me, "I think the ground is flirting with you."
I slapped the rising mound flat with both hands."It is not flirting with me!"
"Uh-huh. Sure. That's exactly what someone says when the ground is flirting with them."
"Harper—"
"—and they're enjoying it a little—"
"I SWEAR HARPER."
A gust of wind hit me from behind as she laughed so hard she almost knocked over her easel.
***
We drove deep into the night, the world swallowed by darkness except for the stars above us—cold, brilliant, and endless.
Harper sprawled across the passenger seat with a blanket, drawing in her sketchbook, humming softly. For a moment, she looked peaceful.
"Jess?"
"Hmm?"
"Do you think we can actually do this?"
Her voice was smaller than usual. More fragile.
I didn't answer immediately. Because I wasn't sure.
We were two untrained elemental disasters hurtling through Siberia on a desperate mission to stop a prophecy older than civilization.Objectively speaking?
It was insane.
But when I glanced at her—Harper with her hopeful eyes, her paint-stained fingers, her breath making small foggy clouds in the cold air—
I felt something in my chest settle.
"We'll make it," I finally said. "We have to."
"For ourselves?"
"For everyone."
She nodded, leaning her head against the window. "I'm glad you're the Earth Girl, Jess. If I had your powers, I'd accidentally split a continent or something."
"True."
"HEY!"
I grinned. "Just being honest."
Dawn crawled across the horizon hours later, lighting the snowy hills with soft gold. The RV rumbled forward, steady and determined. The road stretched on forever—but we were moving. Step by step. Kilometer by kilometer.
Ahead of us waited the mountains of Altai.The next clue.The next danger.The next version of ourselves.
And somehow, despite the chaos, exhaustion, and the occasional accidental earthquake, I felt ready.
As ready as I could be.
Because I wasn't alone.
Harper snored softly beside me, hugging her sketchbook.
I exhaled, steadying my nerves, steadying the Earth beneath us.
And drove toward destiny.