“So they’re interdimensional hackers.” Rainbow had her legs crossed, elbows in the crooks of her knees.
“Extradimensional may be the more accurate term.” Neven inclined her head. “The Powers now severely regret certain restrictions they wrote into their programs, such as the inability to manually close rifts. From what I understand, those restrictions were implemented precisely to prevent situations like the one we’re in now. Frequently closing, reopening, and tweaking rifts—as many Powers were wont to do—weakens dimensional walls. Thus, the rifts are programmed ahead of time in order to maintain structural integrity. But it merely slows the process. As long as the Powers continue to open rifts and alter worlds, the walls will continue to weaken. Which brings us to our current predicament.”
Rainbow made a face. “The Powers screwed up. That’s what all this is about.”
“Yes. So you see: The rift is their problem. The trolls are your problem. If you’re still sufficiently linked to the rift, the act of completing your destiny may trigger the rift to close as it was intended to.”
“If,” I repeated. “Is all this a guess?”
“In a way. We can’t tell how much of the rift’s programming is affected. It attempted to follow you for sixteen years and still reacted to your birthday, which is a good sign . . .”
“But it no longer follows me now.”
“Hence: If.”
“So . . .” I worried at my lip. “The Powers must have known the walls were weakening. They opened the rift anyway. Which means they must’ve needed a Chosen One badly enough to risk further destabilizing the walls. Which means these trolls have to be really dangerous.”
“How are we supposed to fix this?” Red said quietly. “We have a magic knife. That’s it.”
“A small one,” I said.
“Aside from that, we’re four sixteen-year-olds who can’t fight or do magic. Five, if we find that other Hazel.”
“We do have a hunter on the team,” Rainbow said. “That counts for something.”
I smiled wryly.
Neven’s story didn’t add up, though.
“The trolls are a new threat.” I was sorting through my thoughts even as I spoke. “Only a few days old. But the Powers That Be set up the rift sixteen years ago.”
Rainbow toyed with the laces on her boots. “The Powers can probably see into the future or something.”
“Where did those trolls even come from?” Red wondered. “Were they in hiding all this time? What brought them out?”
Four nodded. “All that other weird stuff came through the rift, but this didn’t. It’s separate. So . . .”
“Is it?” I looked intently at Neven.
“The trolls did come through the rift,” Neven admitted. “Years ago. Your government held them captive in your barns, same as they did with me. The trolls only recently escaped.”
“So not only did the Powers open a rift sixteen years ago to train a Chosen One to fight a threat that didn’t yet exist,” I said, “they opened that rift to fight a threat that would only exist because of that rift. Is that what you’re saying?”
“A threat that exists because the Powers themselves sent it through the rift,” Neven said.
I reeled back. “No,” I said, my throat suddenly raw—
“A threat that escaped your farm because, two days ago, the Powers helped it do so.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
I didn’t know when I’d stopped fiddling with the grass. “The Powers That Be did this on purpose?”
“They choose a world. They select a Chosen One. They program a rift. They plant a threat.” Neven lowered her head, coming face-to-face with me. “I’m sorry, Hazel. It’s artificial. All of it.”
“They plant—What do you mean, they select a Chosen One? It’s not something they just know?” My voice caught. The others were looking at me, but I couldn’t take my eyes off Neven.
“They choose. Sometimes at random. Sometimes not. They might choose someone who’s connected to the threat they’re planning, or who’s well equipped to fight it. In your case, I believe they simply liked the idea of a farm kid with mysterious parentage.” Neven’s mouth twitched. Smile or scowl, I couldn’t tell. “It’s traditional.”
“They liked the idea,” I echoed.
“Why?” Rainbow said. “Christ. Why?”
“What I know of the Powers, I’ve learned solely through observation; a lot is hazy even to me.” Neven stood, pulling her lumbering body up from the grass, which was smushed flat beneath her. Hesitation was written all over her features. She favored her injured paw, raising it so the claws barely touched the grass. “But I do know the Powers have a particular affinity for good heroes—for good stories. They also seem to have a particular affinity for your world, given how often they’ve chosen it as a backdrop for the little . . . productions.
“Every time they stick their finger in, whether to open a rift or nudge reality sideways, it destabilizes the walls further.”
“They have fingers?” Rainbow scoffed.
I looked sideways. That was her takeaway?
“The Powers occasionally have fingers,” Neven said. “They find corporeality amusing.”
“But they can’t snap their occasional fingers and fix it all,” I said.
“No. They’re not omnipotent. Manipulating the walls bordering dimensions is far harder than manipulating the dimensions themselves. The Powers could get rid of the trolls, but that would be shooting themselves in the occasional foot. The trolls allow you to perform your required act of heroism; if you can’t complete your destiny, they lose their best hope of closing the rift.”
“Why did you decide to tell us this?” Red asked.
“And why now?” I added.
For several long seconds, Neven didn’t answer. I started to think she’d simply say, “Rules,” the way she had before.
Dark clouds were spreading overhead. They stole the sun, leaving Neven’s scales dark and matted.
“Hazel,” she said, and I didn’t know whether she was addressing me or
