“This seems like a bad idea.”
“Just help me, okay?”
Quinta and Zachary each took an end of the large slab of stone. It was much lighter than it should have been. “I thought it took tons of people to set these up,” Zachary said.
“I did, too.” They slid it into place and moved onto the next one.
“What’s the plan here? I can’t make out a picture or anything.”
“This symbol’s been in my head for weeks. I can’t shake it.” She held her fingers up to illustrate, forming an intricate knot.
“I’m double jointed.”
“Oh…” Zachary wandered to the next stone. Before Quinta could pick up her end, he lifted it from the ground. “Are these getting lighter?”
Quinta tried to pick up a stone by herself. She did so easily. “I think they are.”
“Should we stop?”
“I want to say yes… but…”
Quinta’s pupils were dilated. They were so small that they vanished into the deep brown of her eyes. “We have to finish. I don’t know why, but we do.”
“Are you okay?”
“No. I shouldn’t have brought you here.” She didn’t seem to be breathing. Zachary reached out to take her hand in comfort, only to find her fingers ice cold.
“If we make your symbol, we can go home?” He asked. Quinta nodded. “Tell me what to do, and I’ll move the pieces.”
She directed him, and soon it was complete. The moment the last block slid into place, Quinta began to breathe. “Thank you.”
Zachary shrugged, linking arms with her. “Whatever that was, it’s over.”
The next day, news spread about how Stonehenge had changed. Most blamed aliens or the fae. Zachary and Quinta ruled out neither.