What begins as triumph slowly shifts, and I start to feel the rot before I see it.
Their unity doesn’t last.
Alliances splinter beneath the weight of old grudges and greed. What once stood as one begins to divide, and from those cracks a new war grows.
I watch the fae carve forests into glass palaces and freeze lakes into prisons of ice. I see vampires drain whole villages, not in hunger but indulgence. The shifters claim land with tooth and claw, power shifting with every conquered border. The wraiths move through shadows of each night, quiet and lethal, extinguishing lives with little resistance.
I watch each of the kings warring with one another for dominance, but I’m not there to plead with them to stop and see that they’ve already achieved what they wanted.
Beneath the weight of their war, the earth begins to die. Magic blooms unchecked until the land can no longer hold it and the devastation that follows. I feel the rot building from within the core of the planet. Decades condensed into moments, until slowly, the earth collapses.
All the warring entirely in vain as every life is snuffed out, alongside the planet.
The vision fades, but the churning within my gut doesn’t leave me.
I pull back from the thread, retreating back to the darkness of my mind and the two glowing threads.
My mouth parts in disbelief as I process that future.
They won and the world still died.
My chest tightens, sharp and sudden, the ache flaring brightly within.
I felt the moment their love for this world curdled into possession.
I felt the silence of the planet as it was drained of balance, of beauty, and of hope.
And I felt the cold acceptance as it gave up and let go.
Tears slip down my cheeks before I realize I’m crying. I swipe at them with the back of my hand, but more follow, relentlessly.
I turn toward the second thread that waits for me quietly, pulling out from me in a golden arch. Dread pools low in my belly, thick and sickening.
I don’t want to see it. I already feel the shape of it pressing at the edge of my mind.
But I was created to see these paths and choose, so, with the sting of hot tears still wet against my skin, I give in to the second vision, letting it wash over me.
Certainty grips me as I once again watch my morning unfold.
I see myself waking, tucked in the middle of Riven’s arm that’s draped protectively over my waist and with Torryn curled along my back, his chest risingand falling in the steady rhythm of sleep. Sylvin’s arms tangle with my legs at the end of the bed, one arm slung lazily across my ankle like he can’t bear to sleep without touching me.
They are at peace.
Weare at peace.
I feel the ache start to build in my throat before anything happens. My pulse stutters as the Wren in the vision takes a deep breath and smiles before pressing her palm to Riven’s chest, right over his heart.
She smiles softly and then I watch her hand reach inward, through his chest.
No.
The vision pulls tighter, dragging me with it as I resist. I watch a golden thread pulse from within his chest and she pulls at it. I instantly know I’m watching his soul thread being pulled from him as her hand retreats. His thread unravels in a single, impossible breath.
One moment he’s warm beside her, and the next, he’s gone.
She plucked his soul from existence entirely.
I try to scream, but no sound comes. I’m forced to watch as the others follow.
