And so was it with my powers. Though seeing the future had helped me out of so much trouble, it had gotten me into it, too. Because it had stripped me of my chance.
And you needed chance to change.
Now realizing what my true target was, I went after that sense of inevitability. Though it wasn’t technically a real enemy and certainly didn’t have a handy body to attack, that didn’t matter.
I started to see sparks before my eyes. The memorable fireflies that would herald my powers.
They didn’t beckon me this time, promise that if only I followed them everything would be okay.
Instead, whereas once they’d been ordered, forming a path to the future, now they became chaotic, swirling around in a storm of color and light right before my eyes.
… It was the future, wasn’t it? These sparks were that inevitability.
And that, that was my power. That sense of inevitability created the future. It locked me into doing only one thing.
I suddenly changed track. Rather than fight the fireflies with everything I had, I started to watch them. Peer into them like you would the ripples in a pond.
Come to your own balance….
It wasn’t just me who had to come to her own balance when it came to action and prediction. It was the whole frigging world. Every single person since the dawn of history has had to forge their own path between certainty and uncertainty.
I’d either always been scared of the fireflies or exhilarated by them. Now I watched them with a clear heart and a sharp mind.
… I started to see flashes. Sparks. The vision before me – the scene of McCain attacking Max – it started to shift, jolt around as if it were a Polaroid someone was shaking.
Suddenly, it sped up, and McCain threw himself forward, slicing Max right across the throat.
I didn’t react. No fear. No inevitability. Just a clear heart.
The scene changed, jerking to the side once more.
Now Max twisted to the side, dodging before McCain could slice him through. But McCain pivoted on his boot, pushed toward Max and plunged the dagger through Max’s chest.
Again, I didn’t react.
The scene changed.
The two men continued to fight over and over again. McCain continued to win.
But his victory was no longer inevitable. Hell no. Because it was time for a new variable to enter the equation.
Me.
I pushed up. In a single second of true power, I managed to break through the brunt of the force holding me in place. Though it still felt as if there were heavy chains wrapped around me, I just kept fighting and fighting.
I threw myself at McCain.
I had nothing but my fireflies, nothing but my new balance.
The fireflies coalesced before my eyes as I moved. They didn’t flash through my vision and show me what would happen. Instead, like tangents, they showed me possible futures splitting off from the current, microsecond after microsecond.
It should have split my head.
I just went with it.
And I threw myself at McCain.
He was an enraged sorcerer king, and he was still a heck of a lot stronger than me, even considering my injuries.
It didn’t matter. I had timing. The fireflies showed me opportunity after opportunity, and I selected the one I wanted.
I rounded my shoulder and shoved it hard into his as I shifted past.
It deflected his blow before the dagger could slice across Max’s throat.
Max pitched backward, the momentum tipping him over as he fell back and rolled to his feet.
I didn’t stop. I capitalized on McCain’s surprise as I shifted around, brought my knee up, and kneed the hand that held the knife.
To be honest, I didn’t have the strength to remove the sacred knife from his iron-grip, but I didn’t need to.
Opportunities were flowing into this situation with every second, and one such opportunity suddenly gave a throat-rattling grunt and launched himself at McCain.
Max barreled into McCain with such force, the two of them were knocked backward.
I didn’t hang back, waiting to see how things would turn out. I ducked forward, skidding onto my knees as I reached McCain. I brought a hand forward, balled it into a fist, and punched him right under the jaw.
Though I was hardly a boxer, the move was enough to deflect his attention and distract him long enough for Max to grab hold of the dagger and wrench it from McCain’s grip.
I didn’t give Max the opportunity to turn the dagger around and plunge it into McCain’s chest.
No. This was my story, and it would have my ending, thank you very much.
I grabbed the knife off Max, and before he could question, I pushed up to my feet and jerked away.
I held the knife with a truly firm grip, letting my fingers lodge so hard against the hilt it was as if I were trying to meld with the metal.
Though Max swung his attention to me, he didn’t demand for the knife back. He was rightly distracted by the bucking McCain. For McCain thrashed like a fish plucked from water. Max sat on his chest, hands around his throat, trying to hold the sorcerer king in place. But with every second, McCain’s innate power was pushing Max back.
Mary had told me there was only one way to end this – plunge the knife into McCain’s chest and return Max, the good part of his soul, back to him.
No. I couldn’t have that. I refused to believe there was only one way to end this. I refused to believe that ever again. For the future – despite how
