Ever since Harper and I decided to go to the Ukok Plateau, my brain has been slipping in and out of vacation mode. Normally I'm proud of myself—being an archaeology student isn't exactly child's play. You need memory, logic, analytical thinking… all that responsible adult stuff.But apparently awakened supernatural powers scramble a human brain like someone shaking a snow globe with malicious intent.
Because right now, I feel like a slightly dangerous ball of energy.And we haven't even left the house yet.
The day's first disaster began with an innocent orange sitting on the kitchen table. Harper was boiling eggs; I was making a sandwich. The orange slipped from my hand—completely normal. In the real world, oranges fall, roll, stop. Basic physics.
But apparently my newly awakened earth powers have beef with basic physics.
Right before the orange hit the floor, the kitchen tiles trembled ever so slightly—as if whispering I HEAR YOU. And then… the orange froze. Mid-air. Just hung there like it had run into a force field.
Then it suddenly launched itself backward.
Straight at Harper.
"Jessica!" Harper yelped as the orange bounced off her face.
"I didn't do that!" I protested.
"Sweetheart, oranges don't just attack me on their own."
She had a point. An annoyingly solid point.
I leaned on the counter and tried to mentally order the orange to stay still—but even as I said don't move, something deep inside me went bounce, bounce, bounce.And yep. The orange bounced. Five times.
"Earth powers, huh?" Harper said, raising a brow. "Amazing. You're already terrorizing the household."
"I don't mean to!"
Harper rubbed the bridge of her nose. "It's fine. I'm not mad. But if this continues, I'm getting you a protective helmet."
Honestly? The helmet idea was sounding increasingly rational.
An hour later, Harper had positioned herself dramatically on the couch like some kind of elemental guru preparing a TED Talk.
"Sweetie," she said, wagging her finger, "you are standing before someone who has read thousands of fantasy novels."
"Harper, reading fantasy novels doesn't teach you elemental control."
"Oh, darling," she said, tossing her hair back, "that's where you're wrong."
I wasn't wrong. I knew I wasn't wrong.But a tiny gremlin living inside me whispered: let her talk, this will be entertaining.
"Listen," she said. "I'm an air element. Air means freedom. Flow. Thought. All you need to do is control your breathing. Breathing. That's it."
"That's it?" I asked skeptically.
"That's it."
She took a deep breath.Lifted her arms.
And her hair started floating.
Just her hair.Not the curtains. Not the table. Not the room.
Just her hair.
Then her hair… aggressively slapped her in the face.
"You see," Harper said, voice muffled, "perfect mastery."
I broke. I laughed so hard she glared at me through her own flying hair.
"It's not that funny!" she protested.
"Harper… Your hair is attacking you."
"It's under control!" she shouted—while clearly being bullied by her own curls.
As Harper wrestled her hair into submission, I sat cross-legged, determined to take this seriously. Meditation pose. Deep breath. Feel the earth. Ground yourself. Harmony. Calm.
I imagined a peaceful landscape. Trees. Mountains. A distant river.
Then—
BLUP!
The carpet beneath me bulged like a living creature stretching.
I opened my eyes to find a small mound rising in the center of the room.
"Jessica…" Harper whispered behind me.
"I know."
"Did you just… make a hill?"
"I… think so?"
"Fantastic!" Harper burst into laughter. "You can't control oranges, you're inflating carpets, and I'm getting beaten up by my own hair. This trip is going to be legendary!"
***
Once she calmed down, Harper launched into her so-called "professional training session."
She handed me a wooden spoon.
I held it.
"Earth power," Harper said with the seriousness of a martial-arts master, "is about stability and determination. If you focus, the energy stays still. But if your mind wanders—"
The spoon began vibrating.
"Harper," I said, stepping back, "is this a good idea?"
"It's a perfect idea!"
The spoon suddenly curled.
Actually curled. Like it was warm chocolate.
"I didn't do that," I said.
"No, you didn't," she said, snatching the spoon. "It bent itself because you failed to focus."
"Sorry, but the spoon was stronger than me."
"Spoons can't be strong, Jessica."
"Then I'm very weak."
Harper sighed dramatically. "Ah, the dramatic princess emerges."
"Yes. She has arrived," I said. "Greetings, Air Queen Harper."
And so we continued, two idiots with superpowers, trying not to destroy the apartment.
But through the chaos… I noticed something.Every attempt—no matter how disastrous—made me a little better.
Same with Harper, even though her hair still tried to suffocate her every ten minutes.
At one point, Harper kneeled on the floor yelling, "Breathe, Jessica! Breathe! Gather the energy!"
And I had my hands on the ground, trying to feel the earth.
But I couldn't. My mind was too full.
The prophecy.The gate.The Ukok Plateau.The Ice Princess.Harper's cursed hair.Everything.
"Why can't I control this?" I whispered.
Harper touched my shoulder. "Because you're overwhelmed. We won't be pros overnight. Look at me—"
Her hair immediately smacked her across the face.
"DON'T LOOK!" she screamed.
I burst out laughing. But then she grew serious again.
"Jess… we'll figure it out. But we need to survive long enough to actually reach the gate. And for that, you need to control your powers."
She was right.
But the knot in my chest still wouldn't loosen.
Then she suddenly clapped her hands. "Got it!"
"Oh no."
"Sweetie," she said, raising a finger, "every fantasy novel has three golden rules for mastering powers."
"In novels?"
"Yes," she said proudly. "One: Emotional control. Two: Physical grounding. Three: No unnecessary panic."
"Unnecessary panic?"
At that exact moment, I accidentally made the flowerpot on the table wiggle.
It slid sideways.Then back.Then jumped.
"JESSICA!"
"I'm not panicking," I said calmly.
"Sweetheart, the flowerpot is literally dancing right now."
It was. It was full-on performing Swan Lake.
Eventually Harper sighed. "Let me demonstrate."
She closed her eyes.Lifted her arms.Summoned her air energy.
A gentle breeze filled the room.
For a moment… it was beautiful.Soft. Peaceful. Hopeful.
Then—
WHOOSH!
My door slammed open.The curtains exploded sideways.Papers shot into the air.One of Harper's romance novels hit me in the face.
"Harper!" I yelled.
"I didn't do it!"
"You DID!"
"Fine—I did!"
The gentle breeze turned into an indoor tornado. Books flew. The rug lifted.A chair spun into the air like it was auditioning for a circus.
"Harper! Stop it!"
"I'M NOT DOING ANYTHING! I JUST BREATHED!"
A chair hit the ceiling.
"STOP BREATHING!"
"WHAT AM I SUPPOSED TO DO?!"
Then—Silence.
The wind died instantly, leaving behind only destruction and awkwardness.
Harper tucked a wild strand of hair behind her ear. "Okay… so emotions trigger air powers. That's… not ideal."
"No kidding."
As we swept the chaos together, reality settled like dust on a forgotten shelf.
We needed control.
We needed to be ready.
Because the Ukok Plateau wasn't just a destination.It was a gate.And gates—especially ancient, supernatural, world-bridging ones—didn't tend to be forgiving.
As the broom scraped across the ruined floor, I let out a long exhale.
Before we found that gate, before we even stepped foot in Sibirya…
We had to survive ourselves.