"They lose everything," My arms tightened protectively around Winter. "No more cosmic control. No more harvestingfaith and fear. They become just another group of power-hungry bastards without the juice to back up their threats."
Winter was quiet in my lap, but I could feel her thinking, processing. The mark on her forehead pulsed steadily, no longer chaotic but purposeful. Whatever the Oracle had awakened in her, she was learning to work with it rather than fight it.
When she finally spoke, her voice carried new certainty. "We need to talk about what comes next. The Oracle showed me the choice. Rule or release. Take their place as the architect of fate, the chalice, or destroy the system entirely and return free will to the universe."
None of us asked which option she was leaning toward. It wasn't time for that conversation yet. But I saw the weight of it in her posture, the way she held herself like someone carrying the future of reality on their shoulders.
"First, we need to understand what we're up against," Fenric was ever practical. "The Harbingers won't simply allow us to waltz into their stronghold and dismantle millennia of carefully constructed power."
Milo suddenly straightened, pointing to a passage in one of his salvaged books. "Actually, I think I found something about that. This text mentions a location. The Harbingers' primary anchor point in what it calls the 'Threshold Realm.' It's not fully in our dimension, but not completely separate either."
"A pocket dimension," Zane leaned forward, his hands clasped. "I've been to a few. Tricky to navigate, easy to get lost in."
"The good news is, Horrace can help us get there," Milo continued, his excitement building. "His interdimensional nature should let him create a bridge, especially with Winter's power to stabilize the crossing."
The conversation turned to logistics. How to reach this Threshold Realm, what we'd face once we got there, whatresources we'd need. But underneath the practical planning, a more important question hung unspoken.
Were we going into this alone, or did we bring the Bureau with us?
All eyes turned to Fenric, who sighed deeply while scrolling through his tablet.
"I think we need to keep it small so that whoever the moles are in the Bureau don't let the Harbingers know that we're coming," he rubbed the back of his neck with a sigh. "I'll come up with a list and contact those who can be trusted."
Winter nodded, and I felt some of the tension return to her body. "We need to do this soon. The unstable magic thanks to the Harbingers is starting to tear this world apart, even if we can't see the damage with our eyes, I can feel it now with this power." She looked at each of us in turn, her gray eyes holding depths of determination I'd never seen before. "We need to go in three days."
Three days. Enough time to prepare, to gather whatever resources Fenric deemed necessary, but not enough time to second-guess ourselves or let fear paralyze us.
I thought about what we were planning. Five people and an interdimensional manticore against beings who'd stolen the power of gods. It should have been terrifying.
But I felt something else. Anticipation.
These bastards had threatened Winter, manipulated her, tried to force her into their mold. They'd turned prophecy into a weapon and used it to control countless worlds. They'd stolen divinity and perverted it into an instrument of oppression.
Now they were going to face the consequences.
Winter shifted in my lap, looking up at me with those bright gray eyes. "What are you thinking about?"
"Hunting," I grinned. "It's been a long time since I had prey that actually deserved what was coming to them."
Her smile was sharp-edged, matching my own predatory satisfaction. "Good. Because I have a feeling we're going to need that killer instinct."
The Oracle's mark on her forehead pulsed once with brilliant white light.
Three days to prepare for war against cosmic thieves. Three days to ready ourselves for a battle that would determine the fate of free will itself.
I was looking forward to it.
Chapter
Sixty-One
Winter
Isat on the floor with my legs crossed, Frank's fishbowl balanced carefully in my lap. The familiar weight of the glass, the gentle swish of water as he moved, had always been my anchor to normalcy. Now, with blue markings spiraling up my arms and the Oracle's power burning behind my forehead, normal felt like a foreign concept.
"So, Frank," I watched him drift lazily through his small world. "Tomorrow we storm a pocket dimension to face beings who've stolen the power of gods. Just another Tuesday, right?"
Frank swam in a slow circle, his fins catching the lamplight. I'd like to think he was being supportive, but he was probably just hoping for food.
