“What about Rachel? She’s totally into you.” It’s my friend, Aiden. Class has ended for the day, and we’re currently walking across campus together, to the track for practice. It’s a cool autumn afternoon, and colorful leaves dot the lawn to either side of the walkway. As a breeze ruffles my messy brown hair, I turn to him, raising an eyebrow.

“Rachel?” I ask, playing dumb.

“Rachel Miller?”

I know who he’s referring to, of course. Rachel Miller is this totally cute redhead from our science class. Ponytail, blue eyes, face dotted with freckles. Soft spoken and considering, dimples when she smiled, and she had this adorable little laugh. I’ve secretly been crushing on her for a while now. I turn back to Aiden, asking “Right, and how do you know she likes me?”

“Bro, it’s in the eyes,” he replies, gesturing to his own with two fingers held in a V, “You gotta look at the eyes.”

“You know that makes you sound like a creep, right?”

“Look,” he says with a shrug, “just trust me.”

“And which, pray tell, of your numerous girlfriends would have instilled such trust in me?” I jest.

“Hey, the keyword is ‘numerous’.”

I fail to suppress a laugh, a smirk forcing its way onto my face, and I’m about to follow up, but before I can, a sudden noise in the air catches my attention. It’s a fire alarm, the cyclical blare of buzzing echoing through the air, and given the volume, it’s from a building not so far away.

Aiden must have realized where my focus has gone as well because I hear him say, “Someone in the dorms probably burnt pizza rolls. Again.”

I linger still a moment longer, then turn in the direction of the alarm, calling back, “I’m going to check it out.”

Behind me, Aiden lets out an audible groan. “C’mon man, this is like the twelfth time this month. Not every situation needs rescuing.”

I’m not to be persuaded though, already dashing across the grass. “Just a peek!”

“What about track practice?” I hear Aiden shout.

“Tell Coach I’ll be late!”

****

The source of the alarm is Dociaz Hall, an old, twelve-stories tall building made of beige-brown brick. It’s comprised of lecture rooms as well as faculty offices, and as I approach, I catch sight of a steady stream of teachers exiting down the stone steps. One of them, I notice, is pivoting her head to and fro, as if searching for something. I recognize the woman as my old mathematics teacher, Mrs. Wazemore. I wasn’t a fan of her class, but she was cool. She joins the rest of the crowd on the sidewalk, then starts calling out a name. “Christie? Christie, where are you?”

I make my way to her, greeting as I approach. “Mrs. Wazemore!”

It takes her a moment to recognize me, but then she says, “Jaxon, hello. What are you doing here?”

“I was heading to track when I heard the alarm. Is everything okay? You look worried.”

Mrs. Wazemore nods. “I don’t think the alarm’s anything serious. It’s just, I can’t seem to find Christie.” Her twelve-year-old daughter. As a single mother, she frequently brought Christie to campus and let the girl stay in the faculty office. “I had to go help Mrs. Rutabaga evacuate, on account of her recent surgery, so I told Christie to head out first. She’s done fire drills before, so she should be outside already. I just can’t seem to find her.”

I pitch in, scanning the area for the girl, naturally feeling my eyes drawn to the building. The alarm is still blaring, though I don’t see any fire or smoke. Then, as if by a stroke of Murphy’s Law, a sudden explosion rattles the area. Flames burst through a fifth-floor window, shattering glass, and a gasp rumbles through the crowd. Beside me, I hear a yell, panic in the tone, “Christie!” I see Mrs. Wazemore step forward, but I put a hand on her shoulder, pulling her back.

“I’ll go. I’m faster,” I say before either she or my brain can protest, “Fourth floor, room 412, right?” And then to the sound of cautionary yells, I run up the steps, two at a time, into the burning building.

****

I’m rushing down the halls, calling out the girl’s name, as I make my way towards Mrs. Wazemore’s office, presumably along the same route the girl would have taken to evacuate. “Christie! Christie! Are you here?” I shout, and as I do, I can smell the tinge of smoke in the air, light, but definitely migrating down from the floor above.

Just a little longer, I tell myself, I’ll look just a little longer. And it’s fortunate that I do, for on a second pass, I hear a faint banging coming from one of the adjacent hallways. I round the corner, finding that the noise is coming from a janitorial closet, and inexplicably, a metal bar has been placed under the handle, jamming it from moving. I yank it aside, then swing open the door, finding a sobbing girl within. “Christie?” The girl nods. “I’m a friend of your mother’s, Mrs. Wazemore. What happened?”

“A-A man in a costume shoved me-”

Before the girl can finish, another rumble shakes the building. “Nevermind,” I interrupt, “we’ll talk about it later. We need to get out.” I grab onto her hand, pulling her along towards the exit. As we make for the stairwell, a third tremor nearly knocks me off my feet, and I force a laugh, nervous as it might be, in my attempt to reassure the girl. “Don’t worry. I’m sure it was nothing-” The words barely out of my mouth, the building shivers, warping the very walls around us. Cracks spider up, and my eyes follow, just in time to catch the ceiling above start to crumble. I yell out to Christie. I’m not sure exactly what. A warning, perhaps. At that same moment, a sudden gust of air whips past me, pushing Christie forward, out of the way of the falling debris. When the dust clears, I see that a mangle of steel and cement now divides us. Through the gaps, Christie appears shaken but otherwise uninjured. “Go! You know the way, right?” I call.

“But Mister-”

“Go!”

As soon as I see her clear the stairs, I’m dashing off in the other direction, towards a secondary stairwell. All around, the smoke thickens, the air growing sooty and gray. A few minutes later, and I reach my destination, but when I try for the door, I find it stuck, the warp of the frame preventing it from budging. “Shit!” I exclaim, and I try bashing it with my shoulder. No dice. I feel panic start to creep in, but I shake it loose with my head.

Fourth floor. Can I use a window?

I know the classroom doors are typically locked, but I try my luck. On the twelfth, I hit the jackpot, and one opens. Before I can take two steps inside, however, an explosion nearby throws me into the air. My head hits a wall hard, and I can see stars, like constellations of the night sky, before my body crumbles to the ground. I groan, slow to get up, as all around, thick black smoke now fills the air.

Not. Good.

My vision blurry, my breath in gasps, I hear footsteps ring through the hall. My heart skips, lifting for a moment as I think a firefighter has arrived to my rescue. But when I tilt my head, I realize I am mistaken, for the figure walking through the flames is indeed in a uniform, but he is clearly not a firefighter. Dressed in yellow wool head to toe, he stares down the bridge of his nose at me, two large circular horns jutting out the side of his head. I see him smirk.

“I start a fire, and you come running. You really haven’t changed one bit, have you?”

“H-help-” I wheeze.

“Oh, you’re very much beyond help at this point. In fact, you'll be dead in about thirty seconds. Worry not though, your soul will reincarnate. Not in this boring world, of course. Somewhere much more exciting. And I can’t wait to find what mayhem you’ll cause, my little agent of chaos. See you on Arcadia.”

“W-who-?” I manage with my last breath, and as my gray eyes grow dark, as I’m losing consciousness, I remember.

Aries.

****

I awake to the sound of water, gentle waves washing over my body. I’m lying down on what feels like sand. Above, the sky is warm and blue, and as I sit, I spot the clear lake extending before me, light scattering and reflecting across its surface.

Peace. Serenity. The lush trees. The chirp of birds.

Something nags at the edge of my dulled mind, and it takes me some time to realize.

Perspective. Did the world always seem so... big?

I catch sight of my own reflection in the water.

“EHHHH?!?!”