"Well, he’s wrong," Peeble says. "She’s not here. The locket would be screaming if she were."
"I know."
"So we should leave."
"I know."
But I don’t move. I watch him lead his ragged group through the delta, cutting, burning, pushing toward something I can feel pulling at me. Something massive. Something that’s been growing for a very long time.
"We can’t interact with him," I say, more to myself than Peeble. "If I interfere, it destabilizes the iteration faster, creating a Rootline paradox."
"Yes, I’m aware of the rules. I was the one who told you the rules."
"Then we observe. And we stay out of sight."
We follow at a distance, keeping to the rocky high ground where the plants thin out. Iteration Fourteen Kaelren neverlooks back. His fighters trail him with the hollow-eyed loyalty of people who’ve lost everything except the one leading them.
I recognize one of them. Thinner. Scarred. Missing an ear, but it’s this iteration’s Sarnyx. She watches his back with the same quiet ferocity mine does.
Some things don’t change across timelines.
We retreat to higher ground as the sun drops. The delta becomes more dangerous at dusk. The plants are more active in low light, and I’ve already counted several species that hunt by vibration alone.
Peeble finds the pool first.
It sits in a natural hollow in the rock in a circular basin, maybe four feet across, filled with water so dark it looks like liquid obsidian. The edges are smooth with age, worn down by time or magic.
Except the water reflects stars.
It’s still broad daylight. The sky above us is hazy gold, choked with pollen and the remnants of whatever toxic weather this iteration produces. But the surface of the pool shows a clear night sky, pinprick constellations drifting slowly across its surface.
“That’s a seeing pool,” Peeble says, landing on the rim. “Old magic. Pre-iteration old. You press your hand to it, and it links to other pools along the Rootline.”
“You’re sure?”
“I’m a beetle who used to be human and remembers being the first marked in existence. I’m certain about exactly three things in this universe, and ancient water features are one of them.”
I kneel beside the basin and press my palm to the surface.
The water is the kind of cold that bites at the skin and seeps into your bones. The bond in my chest flares, and the locket heats against my collarbone. Ripples spread from my hand in slow circles, the star-strewn surface blurring, shifting, then reforming into something new.
Into faces.
Bryx appears first, upside down and slightly distorted, his compound eyes wide. He’s in Jo’s garden. I can see the elm tree behind him, the trellis, and the edge of the porch. He’s leaning over something, and when the image stabilizes, I realize he’s leaning over an identical pool of dark water.
"Holy—Kaelren?" Bryx’s voice comes through like he’s speaking from the bottom of a well. Hollow, echoing, but unmistakable. "Leo! Leo, get over here!"
Leo’s face appears beside Bryx’s. He looks rough. Good. Glad to know I’m not the only one suffering around here. He doesn't seem surprised by the magical form of communication. Apparently, he's learned to just take everything in stride.
"Kaelen," Leo nods. "Where are you? Have you found her? Is Peeble—"
"I’m right here!" Peeble shoves their face toward the pool. "Miss me? Of course you did. I’m the highlight of everyone’s day."
I shove them out of the way. “I take it Elle isn’t there?” I ask, daring hope to fill my chest.
Both of them look at one another, then shake their heads like they, too, had been hoping for this.
I sigh. "We’re in Iteration Fourteen," I say. "The Bloom weaponized plant life here. Everything is carnivorous. Elle isn’t here, but there’s another version of me, and he’s…" I stop. I don’t have a word for what he is. "Compromised."
