Waffles are waffles.
He’s just at the top of the narrow stairs when he grips the bannister, his head spinning. Tristan frowns, his other hand coming to his temple. Maybe he got up too fast.
He hasn’t had a vision in ages…
The cream walls and stained carpet fade away like they were never real. He locks every muscle, knowing what’s coming next is impossible to stop.
“Tristan?” It’s Tess, her voice full of concern.
But it’s too late. A new reality has gripped him.
One painting a future that has yet to come.
It must be night time because everywhere he looks, it’s black, right down to the mist at his feet.
There are two girls. One, a blonde, is sprawled on the floor, the other girl, this one a brunette, has collapsed on all fours. It’s clear she’s distressed. For a split second she looks up and it feels like their eyes meet. Tristan gasps. She can’t see him, can she? But then her mouth is moving as if she’s talking to someone. Someone who must be standing right where he is.
Glancing over his shoulder, Tristan is met by nothing but darkness. When he turns back, he scans the area, knowing there’s more. The visions are always about Skins.
And if there are too many of them, it could mean they’ve already been found. If that’s the case, they’ll be leaving sooner than he thought.
But when he sees them, Tristan’s eyes widen with horror and he has to stop himself from taking a step forward and plunging down the stairs. He doesn’t get to change what happens. He’s nothing but a spectator.
There are many of them, littered around like statues. Frozen. He can tell they’re Skins. He always can in the visions. A black aura surrounds them, the evil stain that is Chardis.
The brunette lifts her arm only to collapse as if a weight was just pressed on her. She struggles, but it’s obvious that whatever it is, it’s too strong. Her hand reaches out as if he’s there, but before Tristan can scream, she stills. A pool of blood blooms on the ground around her head, forming a crimson halo.
The vision dissolves, leaving him surrounded by black and his own heavy breathing. But Tristan waits, heart battering his ribs. There will be a second vision.
There’s always a second.
This scene unfolds like the first. The brunette on the ground, talking to whoever’s in front of her. But this time, when she raises her hand, something changes. The mist recedes. She pushes to her feet.
The vision evaporates just as quickly as the first. The darkness falls away, the morning light suddenly feeling foreign. What the hell just happened?
As consciousness filters in, Tristan finds he’s still standing at the top of the stairs. He has to unclench his hand from the bannister, the skin on his knuckles white and stretched.
“Tristan.” Tess reaches out carefully. She knows it’s hard to shift back to the present. “Are you okay?”
Tristan nods even though his gut is churning. It’s always like this—the disorientation, the jumble in his head, the nausea. It will pass...eventually.
And then he’ll have to decide what they’re going to do with the two alternate realities he just witnessed.
Zarius is halfway up the stairs, watching them. Everything about him says he’s on alert and ready to move if needed. Zarius was sent to Earth along with baby Tristan. His role is that of protector, and he takes his job seriously.
Tristan pulls up a shaky grin. “I haven’t vision-walked in years, you know.”
Although, if he’d taken the step forward that he’d wanted to in the vision, the tumble down the stairs would’ve been inevitable.
Zarius relaxes. “You don’t remember the time you almost ran into traffic because you saw that Skins were about to find us.”
Tristan jogs down the last of the steps. “Good thing the first vision wasn’t the one that came true that time, huh?” He slaps Zarius on the shoulder as he trots past.
Heading to the kitchen, he imagines the head shake Zarius is probably still engaging in. Then he’ll glance at Tess. She’ll smile. And everything will be right for him again.
His heart rate already dropping, Tristan draws in a deep breath. Someone died in the first vision. Death hung in the air.
He shudders. He’s never seen anyone die before, let alone several.
Unless it’s the second vision that’s the true one…
That’s the crux of Tristan’s visions. Two futures. Only one that comes true. And he never knows which one it is.
Trying to find some equilibrium, Tristan flops onto the chair, drawing the stack of waffles toward him. Tess’s right. This is definitely a perk in a life that involves a revolving door of first days at school.
Tess and Zarius join him, sliding in across the table. Tristan focuses on picking up the maple syrup and pouring it over the waffles like it’s ketchup.
Zarius’s chair scrapes as he pulls himself in. “He’s not talking. It must’ve been a big one.”
Tess rests a hand on her husband’s arm. “He’ll tell us when he’s ready.”
The first bite of fluffy, crunchy waffle has Tristan closing his eyes. Honeyed sweetness floods his senses, sweeping away the remaining horror of the vision.
Although, this one was more of a nightmare. There was blood, and wide, frightened eyes.
Another few mouthfuls and Tristan’s ready to talk. A person’s death is something they need to prevent.
As succinctly as he can, and with as little emotion as possible, he tells Tess and Zarius what he saw. Two girls, one possibly already dead. In the first vision it looks like it becomes two fatalities. In the second vision, something changes. He doesn’t know how it ends, but it sure as hell feels more hopeful than the first.
Zarius and Tess glance at each other. Zarius frowns. “Was there anyone else there? Did you get a look at the Skin?”
Tristan shoves another forkful of dripping waffle into his mouth, shaking his
