Ember turned from the stove and directed two hovering plates of eggs and bacon toward the kitchen island. Once they’d settled gently on the counter, she looked up and saw Cheyenne heading toward her. “Whoa. I didn’t think you were serious when you said, ‘burn it all out.’”
“Yeah, I had something a little less intense in mind.” Cheyenne poured herself a cup of coffee and took a long, slurping sip. “Sorry I freaked you out.”
“Hey, it’s fine. Some people sing in the shower, some people scream. I get it.”
The halfling drank more coffee and leaned against the counter. “That wasn’t part of the plan.”
“What happened?”
“Apparently, I have visions.”
Ember froze. “Visions.”
“Yeah. It happened a few times before I passed the trials. When the Crown was actively looking for me, I guess. I saw some old crone’s face and heard parts of L’zar’s prophecy, but I’m sure that had more to do with the legacy box than anything else.”
“And this vision didn’t.”
“Right. The box is already open. This one was a Nimlothar tree the way they used to be, I think, before the Crown screwed everything up. I saw it burn.” Cheyenne shook her head before drinking more coffee.
“Yeesh.”
The halfling slowly swung her gaze to meet Ember’s. “With black fire.”
“Oh.” Ember shrugged. “I mean, you’re not the only one who can summon black fire, right? Gúrdu did it.”
“I don’t think his was real. I’m sure it’s a drow thing, though.”
“Okay. So any drow could use it to burn a tree.”
“Sure. Including me.”
Ember shook her head. “You can’t blame yourself for something that happened in a vision.”
“No, I know. You’re totally right. What I need to do is figure out what the hell it means and whether there’s something I’m supposed to do about it. All this? The prophecy, the vision—it feels like a warning, and I have no idea why I’m the one getting it.”
“Okay, hold on a sec.”
“I didn’t ask for any of this stuff, Em. I’m just trying to do the right thing. Help the other magicals on this side not get themselves in trouble when the other O’gúl assholes are running around stealing kids and blowing up marketplaces. All I wanted out of this was to get the orc who shot you, and instead, I’m part of this centuries-long rebellion that nobody’s been able to fight because the idiot who knocked up my mom locked himself up just to see what would happen. L’zar won’t even fight with us, and everyone still thinks he’s the end-all-be-all to this whole thing. So I passed the trials. Awesome. I’m not just a clueless halfling who has no idea how to handle her magic anymore. Great. I could do something with that, and instead, I’m locked up in my own apartment, not helping everyone else, just like he did. I don’t even know if what we’re going to do once we cross the Border again is what needs to happen. I don’t want prophecies and visions. I want shit to quit getting worse!”
The mug in her hand let out a soft pop, and she looked down to see a spiderweb of cracks spreading around the ceramic from beneath her hand, which had taken on the mottled grayness of her drow form without her knowing it.
“Shit.” She set the mug down on the counter beside her and turned her hands over. “I’m halfway between drow halfling and Goth lobster now.”
Ember snorted but immediately wiped the smile off her face.
“I had a handle on changing forms. Now I’m losing control and starting all over.”
The kitchen fell silent, punctured by Ember slurping her coffee. “Did you get it all out, or do you need to vent more?”
Cheyenne puffed out her cheeks. “No, if I keep venting, I’ll break something other than a mug.”
“Okay. Now I’m gonna say a few things.”
The halfling glanced at her friend, nodded, and looked down at her raw red arms and hands again as the patches of dark gray faded.
“First of all, you are not starting all over. Case in point, you didn’t shatter the mug, and you didn’t have to run away to hide your ears and wait for it all to settle back down. See? Look. Goth lobster.”
“Jeeze.”
“Sorry, but it’s a perfect description.” Ember set her mug on the kitchen island and nodded. “Seriously, Cheyenne. You’re doing everything you can, and it is enough. One hundred percent. Look at what happened with Matthew, right? You went in there twice without using magic to fight your way to the answer. Okay, minus the one in his loveseat, but that’s not the point. You do know what you’re doing now.”
“Except with that damn prophecy,” Cheyenne muttered.
“Fuck the prophecies and visions. You’re Cheyenne Summerlin. You’re a drow halfling who’s been to the other side and back again without being ripped apart. I mean, you’re the only magical Earthside who can use that weird little coil tech, which makes you unstoppable. You closed aportal ridge by yourself. You don’t need L’zar or Corian or Maleshi or the rest of them, but you’re helping them because as far as any of us can tell, that is the right thing to do.”
“I don’t know if that’s true right now.”
“Listen, you are helping them, and everyone else. If you change your mind and back out, this whole thing goes to shit. They all know it. You know it. Honestly, you need to quit feeling sorry for yourself and just be yourself. That’s why you do the whole Goth thing, right?”
“Because I like the
