A brilliant silver spire rose from the center of the most complex pattern I’d ever seen. Intricate filigree, designs within designs, covered the whorls and spokes with ornamentation so beautiful they held me mesmerized. There was a purity to the scene laid out below me. There were no shadows on the pattern, no dots scurrying along the paths outlined by the Grand Design. This was the very heart of creation, the origin of every segment that defined our world and its people’s destinies. It was like looking back in time to the instant of the big bang, and then further back still to the terrible stillness before the universe burst into being.
As awesome as it was, the silver spire that thrust up from the heart of the world was terrifying. That was the Forge, I knew it. It held the power to make worlds, or unmake them, and I’d never survive approaching it here where its strength was greatest. It would be like trying to stand on the surface of the sun. I turned away from the imposing supernatural force and searched for the thin black cords that were my current goal.
My thread of fate trailed off into the distance. It shifted and wavered as I watched, and I remembered what the Flame had told me. It hadn’t drawn my section of the Design, and couldn’t see where it led. Maybe that twitching and jumping along its length was my fate changing as I made my way through the quest. Or maybe it was fixed in darkness, but by a hand the Flame didn’t recognize.
None of that mattered. It would all change, soon.
I spotted Clem’s black cord first. The thin line of shadow speared arrow straight from my friend’s core off to the section of the Design where it was anchored. There wasn’t a wobble or quiver in that thread; it was laser-focused on its destination. For so long I’d thought Clem was dead set on a future in her parents’ footsteps. Her surprise confession the day before made me wonder how she’d felt being pulled toward a destiny she didn’t want. There’d be time for that discussion later.
Abi’s thread appeared next. It was so thin it was almost invisible against the silver glow of the Grand Design, its edges fuzzed out like an angry cat’s tail. The line was taut, though, and plunged straight down from where it originated. Abi was supposed to die, here, at the Umbral Forge’s threshold.
I would not let that happen.
Eric’s thread was the faintest of all. It flickered in and out of my sight and seemed to grow thinner by the second. It didn’t look like it would last much longer.
I focused all my attention on that faint black cord and followed it to Eric’s vision of his destiny. It took almost no time to reach my friend, but even in that short span his thread had dwindled to nearly nothing. I had no idea what that meant, but it didn’t look good. Maybe Eric’s future was fading, too.
I’d expected to find Eric still in the middle of the arena, basking in the glory of his most recent win. But his vision had moved past that, to a luxurious dressing room. Buckets of ice dotted marble countertops, the necks of chilled champagne jutting above their rims. Artfully scattered pedestals held charcuterie boards and fruit plates loaded down with tender meat and oversized strawberries, pink slices of watermelon, and grapes the size of golf balls. A serving table and carving station held an impressive buffet that wouldn’t have been out of place in the world’s finest hotels. It wasn’t just the foods that looked fancy.
Beautiful women in designer gowns, their ears and throats dripping in jewels, picked at the food and eyeballed Eric without shame. A pair of tanned men in tailored tuxedos had taken up positions on either side of the dressing room, their eyes taking in every detail and watching for any threats to the man of the hour.
Eric lounged in a chair so big and gaudy it was practically a throne. His left eye was swollen and blackened, his right cheek bruised. He’d stripped out of his robes and donned a pair of training shorts. His torso was a patchwork of new bruises and old tattoos that made him look less like a Battle Federation champion than a street fighter. He watched the people around him with a predator’s eyes. When his gaze fell on me, a smile spread across his face. His eyes lit up and he sprang from his seat and hurried across the dressing room to greet me.
“Jace!” he shouted. Then, to his two security guards, “Don’t worry about it. You couldn’t stop this guy if you tried.”
The security team didn’t look mollified by Eric’s assurances. I felt their eyes behind the sunglasses that hid them trained on me. They were ready to jump into action if they thought their charge was in danger.
I gave them my most affable grin and greeted my friend with a hug. He squeezed me back, then held me at arm’s length to give me a quick up and down.
“It’s been too long,” he said. “I know you’re busy, but you should come around more often. Looking good, by the way. You seem younger. And not nearly as tired as you look on TV.”
Eric’s greeting caught me off guard. We’d only been apart for a few minutes, not years. I’d have to play it safe until I got my footing and understood what had happened.
“It hasn’t been that long,” I said. “You didn’t think I’d miss your big fight, did you?”
He threw his arm around my shoulders and guided me toward his big chair. A blonde woman reached out to trail her nails across Eric’s chest as he passed. Her sultry smile faded when her gaze shifted to me, though. Her lips drew into a tight line and she
