Don’t ask me what time was doing while I was coming to these terrifying conclusions. It almost didn’t seem relevant anymore. I didn’t exactly slip back into the past, but instead remained there, frozen in my own sense of inevitability, almost as if he inevitability itself were tying me in chains, locking me not just physically, but temporally.
I would never move again. Never move again.
This – this was the full consequence of my powers. It wasn’t being locked into one future, it was never having a future again.
As the true horror of that conclusion settled through me, I began to fight it with everything I had. But the mere fact was, I didn’t have much left. That hopelessness and inevitability had combined to rob me of all my force until I was little more than desperation wrapped up in fear.
… And yet something remained. Something of the old Chi McLane. Her fire. Her tenacity. And, more than anything, her ability to dictate what the future would be.
It was a curious fact, one that suddenly struck me right between the eyes, but I suddenly realized that even before I had feared my powers, I had never truly used them. I had only ever reacted to them. Whether it had been from staring at pictures of the dead or desperately fleeing my attackers, I had only ever turned to my powers in times of true desperation. And as such, I had only ever used them to save myself, never to create.
… To create.
That’s what you did with a good fortune. You helped create an image for your client. One where their life was better, where their problems were solved. Yeah, maybe it wasn’t true. And doubly yes, maybe it wouldn’t happen, but it helped the client aspire toward something. And, more than anything, it helped them appreciate that things can change. You go to a fortuneteller when you’re stuck, and they’ll unstick you with a well-placed lie. Did that excuse what I’d done – who I’d been? No, not really, but it gave me a new path going forward. Some people can see the future better than others – they have a more formed idea of what will happen. It’s not seeing the future, just using your innate abilities to predict. And those of the lucky few who could do that, could change the path of probability and bring about a different world.
That’s what seeing the future was all about. It wasn’t simply viewing one path set in stone. It was figuring out what was possible and deciding which future you wanted.
Though that conclusion was remarkable and certainly had a measurable effect on me, it wasn’t enough to completely pull me out of the prison of inevitability I’d found myself in.
The scene before me – McCain seconds from slicing Max through with the sacred dagger – it had stopped. Frozen as if someone had hit pause on a home video. I could see how slack Max’s face was, how pulled and wide open with fear his eyes had become. And yet, I swore I still saw determination deep within his soulful pupils. The determination to save me.
McCain was a picture of perfect anger, his face contorted in victorious, explosive rage. Though side-by-side with Max their resemblance was unmistakable, McCain suddenly looked like a completely different man. The rage made him more of a monster, more of a grotesque, twisted caricature of what a person should be.
My heart kept thumping hard in my chest, my body literally shaking under the onslaught of my own fear. But no matter what tortured emotions plunged through me, the situation didn’t change.
Despite my realization, it seemed reality had frozen and would never move again.
… Meaning I’d be trapped here. Forever. Stuck in this paused scene, forced to stare at Max and McCain for the rest of time.
As that conclusion swelled within my heart, another wave of inevitability sunk through me, and I swore it ground me even harder against the spot, almost as if it were a stone trying to crush me into dust.
… It was the inevitability, wasn’t it? That was what was trapping me in place.
As I realized that, a surge of hope billowed through my stomach, rising high into my heart like a wave that wanted to push me to my feet.
I fixed all my attention on Max. I let my gaze rove over his form, let it slip over his taut muscles, let it trail over his terrified and yet determined expression.
If the future was inevitable, and I’d never be with Max, then the future could go to hell.
Because, goddammit, if there wasn’t a way to break out of this realm, I would jolly well make one.
From the beginning, Max, under the control of McCain, had been telling me there was no way to fight the curse, no way to lift it, no way to do anything other than what I was told. But I’d proved McCain wrong.
And now? Now I would prove frigging time wrong.
As I fought with all my might against the astronomical weight of inevitability holding me in place, I swore it started to work. I swore I began to see the dust motes before me move. Though McCain and Max didn’t speed up and suddenly throw themselves at each other, I heard the gravel scatter ever so softly by their feet.
It sent another wave of hope pulsing through me, and that was enough to fight another blast of inevitability.
Everyone kept telling me to come to a new understanding of my powers. And right now, I did.
There was an inherent problem with seeing the future, wasn’t there? It wasn’t just a problem for seers. Heck no. For scientists, for futurists,
