Page 21 of Fallacies

Callan said no weapons.

It takes me a second to catch my breath, adrenaline kicking my heart into high gear.

I’d been pretty sure that it was an illusion, but every risk comes with a small what if…

Brushing strands of my loosened braid out of my face, I inch forward, glad for the now clear path ahead.

Until the creak behind me starts up again.

I keep walking, increasing my pace and refusing to turn around. The last thing I want to do is run across this plank, but I will if I have to.

The option, however, quickly vanishes when another dark figure appears in front of me. I halt on the plank. Another emerges on my left…then my right…hovering over the water. Three Eastons.

The wood groans beneath my feet, and heavy footsteps come up behind me.

Five.

I turn slowly, noticing that none of them are holding any weapons, so I can’t spot the fakes that way. Actually, the longer I stare, the more identical they all look. Not a single detail is out of place.

The way back to Albatross is forward, so surely the Easton in front of me is an illusion, right? Or maybe it’s the opposite…

Gods, I’m so close. I can see more and more of the stone walls ahead with every step I take.

All of the Eastons move forward, slow and menacing, like they’re allowing time for my brain to truly be scrambled.

Magic dances around my fingers, sure and steady—the only thing about me that is. With little to no reason, I decide the Easton blocking my path is fake. I’m not sure why, but it feels right, and I’ve run out of time to make a decision.

As I get closer, a huge wave crashes over the plank, and when the water washes away, I stop dead in my tracks.

It’s a minor detail, so subtle I almost miss it.

The Easton before me, the bottom hem of his pants is damp, drops of water dripping from the fabric.

When Callan spun the illusion of me coming out of the water that night at the creek, when he helped me with my magic, the illusion of me was…dry.

I suppose Easton could have added that detail after the wave had hit, to confuse me, but judging by the fraction of panic blooming on his face…

He hadn’t expected me to catch it.

That’s Easton.

He clocks my realization and lunges at me, his steps long and heavy on the plank.

I throw up a ward as fast as I can, but he shreds it with magic, like it’s nothing but parchment. I shoot out a hand and power cracks from me like a whip, sending him flying backwards. By some sort of supernatural interference, he lands gracefully on his feet, barely stumbling a step before hurtling towards me again.

I turn to go back, just to buy myself more time, but I nearly scream when I see Phoenix there, a wicked grin on his face as he prowls towards me with ease.

“Are you scared, little Reenan?” He taunts. “Are you having fun?”

I stumble back a step, teetering along the edge of the wood.

Holding a palm out to each of them, I release reckless bursts of raw power, knocking them both farther down the plank. I curse when they land perfectly on their feet, again, as if they’re magnetized to the wood.

No, I’m not having fun.

I buy myself time, continuing to knock them back as quickly as they right themselves.

Maybe I could try to take on Easton, knock him off the side, and hope I can run the rest of the plank before Phoenix catches up to me. Clearly, these two have unknown advantages in this game; I’m sure they’d survive the fall. I, on the other hand, am skeptical.