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“What about Nero? Why did the Guardians want Nero to be born?” I asked him.

“Because they needed him, a man of Immortal blood, to have a child with the savior they knew would one day be born.”

“The savior, an angel with perfect light and dark magic but who wasn’t born with any magic at all,” I quoted.

That described me perfectly.

“The Guardians needed you and Nero Windstriker to conceive a child, the product of light and dark, of active and passive, of order and chaos,” Gaius said. “And of love. That one most of all.”

Nero took my hand.

“This child would exist in perfect balance and would be more powerful than even the Immortals,” said Gaius. “If the Guardians could find a way to control her, they could take out anyone who stood in their way. Do you understand what I’m telling you, Leda? Your daughter is the key to the Guardians finally getting everything that they want. Your daughter is the one who can end the gods and demons, end all the Guardians’ enemies, for that matter. Because with her power, no one will be able to stand against her. And with her under the Guardians’ control, no one will be able to stand against them.”

“Well, when you put it like that, it does sound pretty bad,” I said quietly.

“Worse than bad. It is the end of everything.” Gaius set his hand on my forehead.

I saw the dream that Nero had described to me. I saw the two of us fighting side-by-side against a great invading army. We were fighting for our daughter, to keep her from those who would steal her from us.

“This is the vision Grace sent to Nero, this vision of the future,” Gaius told me. “But it’s only one possibility. And it’s one of the best outcomes.”

“One of the best outcomes?” I said in shock. “The universe and everyone in it is at war. How could this possibly be one of the best outcomes?”

“Because in this outcome, your daughter still has free will. Shall I show you the other possible futures?”

He didn’t wait for my answer. Before I knew it, I was looking at Sierra, the red-haired angel.

“This is your daughter.”

I watched the angel clad herself in the weapons of heaven and hell. Her flaming sword shimmered in the light of the full moon. She was so powerful. So beautiful. So magnificent.

“Arina was right? Sierra really is my daughter?” I asked Gaius.

“Yes.”

Sierra moved across the city battlefield, her wings as silver as her armor. A monster jumped at her. She lifted her shield and knocked it away. Her sword cut through the next beast. Then she continued past the broken buildings, on toward the enemy that had invaded her city.

“Sierra is a hero, but she has lost much. Her family, her friends.” Gaius looked at Nero and me. “Her parents.”

“In this future, we are dead?” I asked him.

“Yes, but this is only one of many terrible futures.”

He waved his hand, and then I was on another battlefield in some other possible future. I stood between two warring armies, each side led by angels.

I remembered this vision. I’d seen it before.

Beautiful and terrible, the armies of angels clashed in a war of magic and might that shook the ground and echoed across the heavens. Swords clashed. Steel clanged. The stench of blood and sulfur and death permeated the air. Feathers fluttered on the wind. The soil was soaked with blood; it spread out from the battlefield, blackening the Earth. The storm of spells raged on.

I dashed across the battlefield, my pale blonde hair swooshing across my face as I slashed through the enemy ranks with my fire sword. I sprang into the air, then slammed my fist down. Jets of fire erupted from the ground, shooting up into raging pillars of flames.

I strode across the battlefield, wings spreading out from my back, my dark purple-black feathers shimmering like petals of luxurious velvet in the light of the setting sun. Bodies fell before me. Men turned and ran from me. The ground shook beneath me.

A jolt of pain ruptured my ribcage. I looked down to find a sword protruding from my chest. I turned around to face the person who’d stabbed me in the back.

The last time I’d seen this vision, I’d blacked out before I could see my attacker’s face. Not this time. This time, I saw her as clearly as the blood that flowed out of my chest. It was Sierra. My daughter had stabbed me in the back.