Page 10 of Chasing Eternity (Stealing Infinity #3)

Braxton

Gray Wolf Academy

Present Day

Nothing is at all like I thought.

My perception has failed to such a degree I’m reminded of something Arthur once told me: reality , he said, depends on an observer .

If that’s true, what does my initial observation say about me? The figure I mistook for a faceless, menacing monster is anything but.

The man who emerges from the shadows is imposing, broad-shouldered, and tall. When he lowers the hood of his frayed brown cloak and steps into the light, I see a rumpled mane of silvery-white hair, a long, straight nose, and a weathered jawline. But his eyes—kind and bright—shine with the same intense blue as mine.

“It seems my arrival has caught you unawares,” he says, his voice clipped and genteel. “Yet I have anticipated this moment for centuries.”

Before either of us can speak, he raises a hand, and in a blink, it’s like we’re transported to another world. Though I’m pretty sure it’s the same world, only transformed.

The familiar confines of my room dissolve into an expansive chamber with towering stone walls that radiate a mysterious, golden glow. This must be some kind of temple. The air feels denser, humming with the charged energy of ancient times, as if history breathes within these walls.

“Where are we?” I glance around quickly. “And who are you?” I add, though I’m sure I already know.

“I am your grandfather,” he says. “Your father’s father—the one you are named after.”

“My grandfather James—my—my namesake,” I stammer, a mix of awe and disbelief coloring my words. “You look just like your portrait. The one that hung over the mantel in Father’s private study.”

“We have met once before.” My grandfather nods. “Briefly, just after you were born.”

“And then you vanished, and I never had the chance to know you.” My gaze flickers with memories, a legacy lost and now found.

“As for where we are”—he dips his head—“we stand at the threshold of knowledge, a place of deep learning. We stand at the place where it all began.”

“The Mystery Schools of Egypt?” I ask.

He responds with a grin. “This is where the secrets of the true nature of time, reality, and consciousness were imparted to the members of this ancient and secret society. The type of knowledge that was forbidden to ordinary people.”

I open my mouth, about to ask him why he’s showing me this now, but he cuts me off before I can speak.

“We must hurry,” he says. “We have much to do, and time is a luxury we no longer possess.”

I nod, feeling torn between playing along and struggling to comprehend just exactly what this is. I’m well-versed in psychometry, and no stranger to an Unraveling. But what’s happening now is entirely new.

“I’m not sure I understand any of this,” I say. “I was only trying to see if I could uncover a message left by my father. I never expected to release an actual being, like Aladdin from his lamp.”

My grandfather studies me with a look of bemusement . “The reason you’re seeing me now is because I knew this day would come.”

I take a moment to consider his words. “So, you’re saying none of this is happening in real time? That it’s some sort of illusion—like one of Arthur’s holograms?”

“I assure you, my boy,” my grandfather says, “I am no hologram. Though I am well acquainted with Arthur.”

His gaze burns with such intensity, I flinch as though I’ve been scorched from its heat. And I watch as he removes his cloak and lifts the hem of his worn muslin shirt, revealing a large circular wound that spans the entire width of his chest.

My eyes lock onto the startling sight. The margins are so surgical and precise, they stand in stark contrast to the scar’s harsher landscape—a brutal crust of angry, red tissue stretched taut, like a distorted canvas over the hollow where flesh once was.

My first thought is one of amazement that anyone could survive such an attack. A moment later, I realize he didn’t.

“This,” my grandfather says, pressing a finger to the center of his chest, “is the result of my meeting with Arthur Blackstone.”

The revelation strikes with the force of a tidal wave, relentless and unyielding. How could Arthur, a man of the twentieth century, have orchestrated such a gruesome fate for someone from the early 1800s?

Then I remember, and all the ominous pieces fall into place. It wasn’t that long ago when Arthur made regular Trips to the past. Trips I now realize weren’t just exploratory, but predatory. It’s how he found me, Killian, and possibly even Elodie, along with the rest of the support staff.

“Yes, Arthur appeared to be from another time,” my grandfather says, pulling me back to the present. “Yet he hunted me down all the same.”

The gravity of his words presses heavily upon me, leaving me immobilized, caught in a tempest of fury and grief.

“He’s the reason you—” I pause, take a steadying breath. “Arthur is the reason you were absent from my life, isn’t he?”

My grandfather’s shirt falls back into place, veiling the brutal reminder of a violent end. “Arthur made many visits to our time.” His voice is grave, loaded with insinuation, but I’m looking for fact—hard confirmation.

“Did Arthur—” My voice falters, and I force myself to continue. “Did he kill my father, too?” My whisper slices through the air, every word spiked with dread. My stomach twists as I wait for his answer.

The sorrow etched on my grandfather’s face speaks volumes before he even utters a word. “My failure to warn you about Arthur is one of my greatest regrets,” he says.

My God. I stare at my grandfather through unseeing eyes, the magnitude of the truth almost too great to bear. The man I’ve loyally served—the man who’s steered my life for years—is responsible for the deaths of those I’ve loved most. Anger and betrayal churn within me.

How could I have been a pawn in such a cruel, twisted game?

How did I not see the architect of my own suffering for what he truly is?

“And yet,” my grandfather says, “maybe it’s a blessing.”

“A blessing?” I balk. “How can you possibly say such a thing?”

“It put you right under his wing, brought you closer to him than any of us could have ever hoped to be.” My grandfather’s words are a cold comfort amid the swirling chaos of our joined emotions. “There’s no point in regretting the past, my boy,” my grandfather cautions. “Not when it places you exactly where you need to be.”

“But how can I face Arthur now, knowing he’s responsible for so much pain?”

“You will face him as you always do. Only now you will know that while I did not go without resistance, for the primal instinct to live cannot be denied, I foresaw the impending event when I peered into the future. What you are seeing and experiencing now is real. You stand here, in this juncture of time, by virtue of the path you elected to explore.”

“You say that.” I frown. “But it’s starting to seem like we’re all just actors on some grand stage, dutifully sticking to the script where everything—every dilemma, every choice—is already determined.”

“You used your free will to pick up your father’s pocket watch,” my grandfather says. “If you’d made another choice, you never would’ve seen this, but the message contained would continue to exist as a possibility.”

“Okay—” I raise a hand. “So, my being here, talking with you, was always one of many possible choices. Which means both you and my father were always possibly going to die at Arthur’s hand, and I was always going to possibly end up at Gray Wolf, and not knowing any of this beforehand, I foolishly chose to walk this path like some mindless cog in the massive wheel of time that—”

“There exist many paths,” my grandfather cuts in. “It was by your own volition that you embarked on this journey. Had you opted for an alternate course, our encounter may have manifested differently, or perchance not at all. The vagaries of fate are indeed inscrutable. Now, permit me to pose a question to you: would the role of a Timekeeper hold any significance were all our choices predetermined?”

He pauses, allowing time for me to consider his words.

“The tree of life has many branches,” my grandfather continues. “And time —according to what your fellow Timekeeper and friend, Leonardo da Vinci, once said— stays long enough for anyone who will use it. So, tell me, my boy, are you ready to heed his advice and use what little time we have left?”

I inhale a deep breath and nod.

“Good.” My grandfather grins. Then lifting his chin, his gaze locking onto mine, he says, “The Elders are eager to meet you. They have much to teach you about your origins, your duties, your gifts.”

I nod, eager to begin when a sudden, jarring knock echoes through the space, violently jolting me out of our shared liminal space and back to the reality of my room at Gray Wolf.

My head snaps toward the door, eyes widening in alarm.

The knocking grows more insistent, accompanied by the sound of Arthur’s unmistakable voice. “Braxton,” he calls, a note of concern in his tone. “Are you okay? I hear you’ve been injured.”

Arthur? How the hell did he get back so soon?

Elodie swore we had two more days until he returned. I should’ve known better than to trust her.

Shit. A surge of panic claws through me, and I glance back to where my grandfather stood, only to find an empty void in its place.

“Braxton?” Arthur’s voice grows louder, followed by the electronic beep of the door unlocking.

In a blur of motion, the door swings open and Arthur bursts in.