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My head started to throb. Instinctively, I closed my eyes to block the pain. An image formed in my mind’s eye—a large stage surrounded by seats. A stadium of some sort. Was it a rock concert?
Bright lights blinded me as thunderous applause nearly split my head in two. Wherever this was, I wasn’t simply present.
I was onstage.
I tried to get a better sense of my surroundings, but there was too much happening around me. People filled the seats. They were rowdy and unsettled, hungry for what I was about to give them.
What was I about to give them?
I didn’t see any instruments, not that I’d sing or play music in public—unless I’d inherited the power of a god like Apollo. But what kind of audience would want to watch me play a lyre in the style of the ancient gods? It seemed too niche.
The image faded and the headache eased. I opened my eyes to find Dr. Edmonds’ face about two inches from mine.
“What happened, Miss Clay?”
My mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton balls. “I had a vision.”
“Excellent.”
“Is that what you intended?”
“It was one of the anticipated outcomes. Your elixir was imbued with the power of Freyja.”
“The Nordic goddess?”
“That’s correct.”
Freyja could predict the future thanks to her prophetic visions. “The elixir granted me the power of prophecy.”
Dr. Edmonds smiled with satisfaction. “So it seems.”
I lucked out. Freyja was also the goddess of fertility. I hated to think what that might have entailed.
He picked up a tablet from the counter. “Can you describe the vision in more detail?”
“There was an enormous room crammed with people, like a stadium.”
He typed as I spoke. “What else?”
“I was there. I think I was a performer.”
“I see. And were there any other performers?”
I tried to remember the images. “I’m not sure. Should there have been?”
He glanced at me. “Did you do anything on this stage?”
I debated how forthcoming to be. It wasn’t as though Dr. Edmonds could read my mind to know whether I was telling the truth. In the end, I decided to share what I saw. It didn’t seem too problematic.
“Thank you, Miss Clay. This is all very encouraging.”
“Glad to hear it. Did I pass?” More importantly, was Dusty off the hook?
He patted my shoulder. “You passed.”
I was torn between relief and apprehension. “Now what?”
“Now you get to participate in the final phase.”
