And the Power actually seemed to be paying attention.
“She might surprise you,” Neven said. “If you’re correct and the rift didn’t respond because she wasn’t heroic enough, she can prove herself anew. If she was heroic enough, but the rift didn’t respond because its connection to Hazel’s heroism had become too tenuous, she’d still have solved the problem at the source. Either way, the rift closes. Either way, your Chosen One succeeds at saving the world. Either way, you come out looking better than now.”
“Hm.” The Power cocked its head. Long, tangled locks spilled across its shoulders.
Incongruously, I realized I almost looked pretty that way: silent, confident, powerful. Nothing like the fiddling girl I knew from the mirror.
Neven’s voice dripped with appeasement. “Of course, you could walk away, after which Hazel might close the rift on her own. But if you stick around, you could take credit.” Her wings shifted behind her. Airily, she said, “And if our Chosen Hazels do indeed save the day—albeit belatedly—we only ask that you send the other girls home safely.”
“If they want to,” I interrupted. After hearing of Alpha’s world, I’d understand if she chose to stay.
“If they want to,” Neven amended. “The entire embarrassing rift misstep would be resolved, your unlikely heroine would have succeeded against overwhelming odds and weathered a dark night of the soul, and all you would have to explain back home is how wonderfully you turned this situation around.”
The Power considered Neven’s words. A spark of hope twitched within me.
Finally, it asked, “And you believe she could?”
Neven lifted her chin. Something unspoken passed between them.
The Power looked at me with utter disinterest. I hadn’t known my face could even make expressions like that. It made me want to scramble back, all my courage gone. “Worth a try,” it said. “Good luck. You won’t have my helpful nudges this time; I’m going hands-off. And Neven, you’re promising me a hero. I don’t want to see anything like that death-by-troll embarrassment, understood?”
Neven had stayed cool so far. At those words, though, her eyes narrowed. “We’ll do what we can.”
“Yes! Definitely!” I said. “Ah, just to be sure, what are the rules this time? I don’t want to get it wrong again.”
The Power sighed loudly. “Close the rift. By yourself. Neven can’t give you the answers. Get help if you insist, but at least try to be heroic about the actual rift-closing part, would you?”
“Got it.” I knew better, but said the next words anyway: “Do you have pointers for how I might—?”
“For crying out loud.” The Power blinked out of existence.
“All right,” I said weakly. “Maybe not.”
The six of us stared at the empty grass where the Power had stood. Without the Power’s glow, the night slipped back into dimness.
I felt strangely empty. Scraped dry. I’d saved the day and lost the day and bargained for another chance and—What was I supposed to be doing now?
What the hell had just happened?
“Glowy Hazel sucks,” Rainbow muttered.
“Glowy Ha—?” Neven started, then interrupted herself. “Ah.”
Red gave her a funny look. “Didn’t you see the glow?”
I balled my hands, summoning the pain to help pay attention.
“When the Powers materialize in these worlds, everyone sees an appearance that’s tailored to them individually. You all saw the same thing?”
“I did. But you didn’t? Did you see a glowy Neven instead?” Red asked.
“I saw my mom, for what that’s worth,” Tara said.
Rainbow looked struck.
“How are we ever gonna do this?” Four cringed as though she instantly regretted the question.
Rainbow looked at the sky, hands linked behind her neck. She buried her fingers in tangled yellow-orange-green locks.
“Yeah,” I said.
“Yeah,” Red repeated quietly.
“As the Power said, I can’t tell you how to close the rift.” Neven’s eyes looked soft. “Don’t take its words personally. In any other situation, your actions likely would’ve been enough to close the rift. This is just . . . poor luck.”
The nighttime chill brushed against my skin. I tugged my sleeves down at the same time as I wanted to unzip my coat and let the wind in. “Will the Power keep its word?”
“The Powers That Be don’t like to lose. I gave them a way out. We can’t trust them to help; we can trust them to save their own asses.”
“How long do we have?”
“Until the rift destroys your world. Or until this Power loses its patience. Could be an hour. Could be a month.”
Tara looked around the group. “So . . . What are you going to do?”
I had a decision to make. I could overthink it, I could debate it, I could run through the alternatives and spend the night agonizing—
But the truth was, there was only one thing to do.
I breathed in deep. “I’m going home.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
“You’re giving up?” Rainbow said.
Four stepped back. “But . . .”
She and Red wore matching uncertain frowns. “Are you sure?” Red asked.
I ran a hand through my hair, getting my fingers stuck in the tangled ends. I needed a hairbrush. And a shower. Now that I’d said the word—home— I longed for those comforts more than ever. I craved my room so badly it hurt. My bedsheets. My comfy chair. My window nook.
I’d been gone for well over a day. How did people ever stay away from the familiar for so long? Making decisions, determining where to go and what to do, constantly taking in new places and seeing new faces . . . This was exhausting.
“I’m not giving up. I’m getting help.” I turned toward the clinic. An ambulance stood in the driveway. That must’ve been the engine I’d heard earlier.
“Ohh.” It seemed to dawn on Red. “You think the MGA can help.”
“If anyone can, it’s them. Let’s face it: Where else would we even start? Anyone have other ideas?” Silence was the only answer. “Yeah. Me neither. The MGA has sixteen years of research data on the rift, and all the equipment, expertise, and government clearance you could ask for.” I snorted. “The only two things they
