Time is a funny thing. Sometimes an entire day feels like just a few hours. Other days drag on, like nails scraping across a never-ending chalkboard. That's the ripples of Time Magic spilling into our world from places like Fillory. Occasionally, these time spells are so strong that you relive moments, sometimes entire days, with small fragments of the recurring days trickling back into your mind as distant memories.

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"Alice, I need you to do this," Quentin pauses for a moment, slowly running his hand up the back of her left arm, resting it on her shoulder. "For me."

Alice nods in agreement and smiles, running ahead of the group.

The group rushes for cover from the distant, but quickly approaching sound of cracking, and bright flashes of light. Penny and Margo are carrying Eliot as he struggles to stand from a tree that fell and broke his leg.

"We've got to make it to the Wellspring. He's not far behind, I can feel him getting closer." Quentin urges from the front of the group with Julia. He and Julia look back every few seconds. Behind them, an advancing tidal wave of moths crashes over the treetops, turning everything it touches into granite.

Margo steps in a hole, bringing Eliot and Penny down with her. Eliot lets out an excruciating howl as Penny stands up and attempts to pull him back to his feet.

"You've got to try and get up man, he's coming!" Penny says, jerking on his arm. "I hear him laughing in my head!"

Eliot forces himself to his feet, fumbling to find Margo's hand. Her quiet moans of pain grab his attention and he turns to help her stand. The onslaught of moths behind them are forming a path of permanent stone trees and animals, bound for the group.

"Quentin Coldwater...." an ominous voice echoes from the sky. "When are you going to learn? I. Am. All. Powerful."

Quentin yells back, "YOU DON'T CONTROL MAGIC! YOU DON'T CONTROL US!"

A deep laugh bellows from the sky, shaking the ground. "We'll see Coldwater. We'll see."

The giant wave of moths is descending headlong, closer and closer, directly toward the five of them. Quentin throws his hands in the air, forming hand signals, desperately clawing at hope of a spell that could save them. Sparks shoot from his fingertips, then, nothing.

The group huddles together. They all start screaming, closing their eyes, waiting for the attack.

Closer and closer.

The moths are crashing downward.

Just before touchdown, a blue orb surrounds the group, protecting them from their impending deaths. The tidal wave of moths, freezes in mid-air. Quentin, Julia, and Penny are the first to stand. Margo and Eliot follow-suit, searching for their savior.

"I figured you guys could use some help," says a feminine voice from the hilltop. "We don't have much time. I need each of you to run to me as soon as I say go. Ready? GO!"

Margo and Penny grab Eliot and run toward the hilltop. Quentin follows Julia, looking back at the motionless moths. The trees and clouds are still. The birds are stuck in mid-air. Quentin turns and looks up the hill to see the silhouette of a woman.

"Who are you?" asks Margo, wiping dirt from her face and primping her hair.

"The Watcherwoman" Quentin says, pushing to the front of the group, finding a spot beside Julia.

The woman steps forward and removes a small stopwatch from her pocket. The second hand is ticking in a repetitive back and forth motion, "I can only hold time still for so long. Get as far from this hilltop as you can, as quickly as you can."

The group runs east toward the Wellspring, the Watcherwoman grabs Quentin's arm and pulls the hood from her face.

"Jane?" Quentin asks with a look of confusion.

"Good luck Quentin, I know you've got this," she glances at her watch again, "You must go now."

Quentin looks toward his friends and starts running.

"Come on Alice," he mumbles to himself. "We're counting on you."

The exact moment he reaches for Julia to join the group, the trees begin to flow with the wind. The creatures proceed to move, and the rivers continue to bend with the current. There's a glowing haze just through the overgrown grass.

"The Wellspring!" yells Penny, still holding Eliot over his shoulder.

"We need to find a place to hide, and fast." Quentin sprints for an outhouse just off from the water.

The group follows, all cramming inside the small shed-like building. Margo bends over and lifts Eliot's pant leg to examine the broken bone. The purple and black contusion is enough to make her vomit.

"It doesn't look that bad." she says, gagging silently to herself.

Penny goes quiet as his eyes roll into the back of his head, falling into Julia.

"The Beast must be taunting him," Julia says with concern, jumping to his aide. "We need to end this, now!" She stands up and places her hand on the door to leave as footsteps and shadows surround the outhouse. Julia quickly sits back down between Quentin and Margo, forming a human shield to protect the motionless Penny.

Wind whips violently against the fragile walls of the outhouse. The ominous, baritone voice returns from above. "This little piggy had roast beef...."

Margo grabs her throat, gasping for air. Her eyes bulge and she collapses to the floor, staring blankly at the wall.

"This little piggy had none...."

The room gets quiet for a moment. Julia grabs a sharp, broken piece of wood from the floor and stands up. She turns towards Quentin, scared. Unable to control her own movements, her eyes start to water and a single tear falls from her eye. She raises her arms, hands clenched around the wooden stake, and drives it through her stomach. Quentin lunges for her, catching her body as she falls.

"Enough!" Quentin screams in emotional pain. "Just please stop. I'll do anything." Sobbing over Julia's body.

"Anything?" asks the voice of The Beast with a sense of pleasure. All four walls of the outhouse fall simultaneously, exposing Quentin to the silhouette of the man, the creature they've spent so long trying to defeat. The moths around his head dissipate, and The Beast steps forward, revealing the face of an older Martin Chatwin. He raises his open hand toward Quentin, lifting him from the ground. Quentin kicks his feet, frantically searching for something stable to stand on.

"Let's have a little fun shall we?" says The Beast, taking another step forward.

"Go screw yourself...just kill me already."

"If you insist." Martin clenches his hand into a fist, tightening his grip around Quentin's throat. Quentin gasps for air, staring his killer in the face.

Floating in mid-air, he calms his legs and pushes a laugh in The Beast's direction.

"What's so funny Mr. Coldwater?"

Quentin smiles, looking over the shoulder of the man choking him. "Took you long enough girl."

Martin Chatwin turns around, staring Alice in the face. Quentin falls to the ground and the light from the sun reflects off the blade in Alice's hands.

"Is that the..." Martin hesitates.

"Yes. Yes it is." says Alice, gripping it tighter. She draws back and throws her arms forward. The Leo Blade slides through his neck, thick blood dripping down his back on the other side.

The man with several names, The Beast, Mothman, Martin Chatwin, falls to his knees. As his chest hits the ground, his body transforms into a pile of moths, carried off by the wind and disappearing into the distance.

Quentin stands and walks to Alice. The clouds lift from the sky and vibrant colors return. The birds begin to chirp, the sun shines brighter, and the ever-magical Fillory gradually returns to her natural self.

A series of coughs force Quentin to turn around. The group of four, whose bodies once laid lifeless, are now slowly standing to their feet.

"What happened?" Eliot asks, holding his forehead with the palm of his hand trying to hold back a migraine.

"It's all over," Alice says with a smile. "It's actually over."

The group huddles together. Happy to be alive, they look at each other and smile.

"Take us home Penny," Quentin says with a grin. Penny places his arms around the group and Quentin takes one last look back at the land he grew up loving.

"Until next time Fillory."