Bastard.
I will not be controlled anymore.He will not take anything else from me.I am done being everyone’s toy.
I wrench forward, smashing my head into his nose.
My forehead blisters from the contact.
He shrieks.
The room goes bright white.I snap the cuffs around his wrist.He wails in frustration.
And all the pain stops.
28
Architecti
Ialways thought time was an odd little thing.Coiled and curled some days and stretching into infinite space on others.
One can watch it, count it, observe it and measure it.
But even as an angel of possibility, I do not have the power to control it.
I do not have the power to predict the future, no matter how much I manifest Architect moths.Ironic really, when I so ardently believe in fate.
One might think if I control possibility, I could control the future.But there are some things even angels cannot do.
I suck in air.
Blink.
Time warps and slows and elongates.
Interitus is so still the lack of movement makes my skin prickle.
The crescendo from the hordes of mortals outside the park gates mutes.
Silence, save for the roaring wind of my own breathing and the thunderous slam of my heart in my ears.
My world shrinks.
Air out.
Slow.Slow.Slow.
Interitus.Me.And the agonising knowledge that Gellara is behind me.
My wings spread, fluffing and bristling, ready to defend.A shield for the demon I love.
Oxygen in.
My muscles stiffen.
Interitus moves for the first time.I brace myself, expecting impact, blades and feathers, fists and fury.But she merely smiles.
A smile that haunts dreams with swords and needles.
Worse, it’s a smile that steals the future and bends time in a way that should be impossible.
