Page 50 of Chasing Eternity (Stealing Infinity #3)

It always seems easier than it turns out to be.

What initially appeared to be a simple, straightforward climb quickly becomes a perilous challenge. My silk stockings offer little to no grip against the slick surface of the carved marble stone. Twice, I’ve tumbled to the ground, landing with a hard, jolting thud. But each time, I pick myself up and begin the ascent once more.

Now, with my dress badly torn and my stockings discarded below, the urns are finally well within reach.

Climbing with renewed determination, each movement cautious yet deliberate, I wrap my fingers around the cool surface of the nearest urn.

Triumph and relief tangle within me as I secure my legs around it and pull myself up inch by painstaking inch. Grasping the rim, I haul my body up the rest of the way and thrust my arm over the lip, delving a hand inside.

My fingers sweep the urn’s interior, brushing against the bottom and sides. Feeling a small object, my pulse quickens, convinced I’ve discovered it.

Yet, as I lift it into the glow of moonlight, my spirits instantly plummet—it’s merely an ordinary stone.

Still, there’s one more urn left to check.

Peeling off my gloves, I let them fall to the ground. Repositioning myself before the second urn, I let my fingers glide along its interior.

Enveloped in silence, the pulsing of my heart in my ears underscores the monumental weight of this moment when the fate of the world hangs in the balance.

My fingers encounter a small, hard, smooth object, and a burst of anticipation surges through me. Instinctively, I recognize its importance, even before laying my eyes on it.

This is the moment!

Using the utmost care, I pinch the object between my forefinger and thumb, gently extracting the Star from its centuries-old hiding spot.

Even under the cover of night, the stone glimmers, radiant in its power. Despite its seemingly insignificant size, this gem holds the potential to alter destinies—to drastically change the course of the world as we know it.

For all the pride I feel in having found it, the gravity of this achievement weighs heavily. This is more than a mere triumph—it’s a beacon of hope. The Star, in its luminescence, seems to whisper promises of a future yet to be told—as long as it’s never, ever, able to perform the job it was made for.

Securing the stone in my pocket, I begin my descent back to the ground. My moment of victory shatters when my feet touch the earth, and the world around me fades, replaced by a swirling vortex of time and space.

I’m pulled into a vision, seeing the flickering image of a grand hall filled with ancient scholars—the air vibrating with energy as they debate the best place to hide the Star.

I watch as centuries pass in a blur. Wars rage, empires rise and fall, and the Star is moved from one hiding place to another, veiled from those who would use it for evil.

The scene suddenly shifts to a small garden at the center of a labyrinth, dominated by a large marble statue of a dignified lion with two urns on its head. A girl wearing a red cape stands there and—

What?

My heart lurches into my throat. My breath stalls in my chest, as my eyes strain to see more. But I’m yanked from the vision, only to find myself in the midst of a horrible tableau I never saw coming.

Standing before me, a dark silhouette against the moonlit garden, is Killian.

His posture is tense, and he’s seized Braxton’s father, holding him captive with a blade pressed sharply against his throat.

“Killian—no!” My voice quivers, failing to mask the turmoil swirling within. The Star’s significance suddenly fades in the face of this more immediate danger.

Killian’s gaze meets mine, desperation driving his actions. “It’s over, Shiv,” he growls. “At last, it’s finally over. This is where the circle ends. So please, kindly give me the Star.”

The circle?

My gaze darts to Braxton’s father, noting his disheveled hair, torn clothing, and his knuckles now bloodied and raw. Judging by the bruises already blossoming on Killian’s face, he put up a good fight before it got to this point.

But now, with Killian’s blade held fast to his neck, his expression is that of a man who’s resigned to his fate, ready to sacrifice himself for a much bigger cause.

When his eyes meet mine, it’s with a silent plea for understanding—to do what needs to be done, to honor my role as a Timekeeper.

To spare one life for the fate of all.

With one hand clutching the blade to Braxton’s father’s throat, Killian extends the other toward me, demanding, “Hand it over, Shiv.”

I lock eyes with him, knowing I need to tread carefully. A single misstep, a misconstrued word, could tip the scales toward an outcome from which none of us can ever return.

“You don’t have to do this.” I keep my voice low and steady as though trying to calm a rabid dog. “There’s always another way, a better path you can choose.”

“This is my path, Shiv.” He shrugs. “Always has been. I thought you knew that better than anyone.”

“I know a lot of things about you,” I say, watching as he presses the blade deeper, causing a trickle of blood to run down Braxton’s father’s neck.

I inhale a sharp breath, refusing to bear witness to any more of this cruelty. The Star, now tucked within the folds of my dress, for all its symbolic hope, also serves as a stark reminder of the fine line we all walk between destiny and destruction.

“I thought you were seeking redemption,” I say.

“Natasha,” Braxton’s father manages to say through the pain, “it was always going to end this way. And now, it’s time for you to meet your destiny, too.”

My eyes dart to Killian, hardly able to believe that the fate of the world teeters on the edge of this misguided boy’s blade.

Beneath his unwavering gaze, I lean down and reach for the dagger strapped to my thigh.

“Nice,” Killian says, his gaze lingering on my bared leg, his voice brimming with that cocky bravado I know all too well. “Though I’ll admit to enjoying the show, I think we all know you won’t go through with it. There’s too much at stake. You won’t risk it.”

“Is that the story you tell yourself?” I raise a brow in challenge, as slowly, deliberately, I advance toward him. “Can you really be so certain of what I will or won’t do?” I take another step. “You really think you know me that well?”

“Yeah.” He nods, pushing a stray lock of golden curls from his eyes. “Actually, I do.”

“You know what Jago once told me?” I muse.

“Seriously, Shiv?” Killian scoffs. “You do realize my blade is freshly sharpened, and I think you know better than anyone I’m more than willing to use it.”

Ignoring him, I go on. “Jago said each choice you make causes your life to shoot off in a new direction. But at the moment of decision, all those varying choices and directions are viable—those roads are already paved.”

“Yeah,” Killian grunts. “Jago’s a real fuckin’ genius. The next Nietzsche, no doubt.” He scowls, shaking his head.

“ The only question now,” I continue, my gaze boring into his, “is which road will I take?”

A tense silence passes between us.

“Because here’s what I know for sure,” I say, stepping forward once more. “You are not going to harm me.”

Killian lets out a scornful laugh, increasing the pressure on his blade, deepening the wound, and causing a thicker stream of blood to gush from Braxton’s father’s neck. Though he barely reacts, having accepted his fate.

“I hate to break it to you, Shiv,” Killian says, “but I think you might be overestimating this bond you and I share. You really think I won’t harm you because I love you?” He shakes his head and frowns. “It’ll pain me to watch you go. Won’t lie about that. But, to my credit, I did try to warn you about making me choose between Arthur and you.”

Another step forward, and I say, “The reason you won’t harm me, Killian, isn’t because of any feelings you may or may not harbor for me, but because, well, simply put, we both know you can’t.”

He shoots me a wary look, tightens his grip on the hilt of his dagger.

“You need a Timekeeper to carry the Star back to Gray Wolf. You made that mistake a few times before, didn’t you? Like the time you killed my father.”

I watch as his eyes narrow, his jaw clenching as his back teeth grind together. “I need only one Timekeeper,” he says. “Which means one of you is expendable. Maybe I’ll take this wanker here and get rid of you.”

He pushes the blade harder, deeper, and I watch in horror as a torrent of blood begins to gush from the wound he made.

“Hand over the Star, Shiv,” Killian barks, “and—”

Before he can finish, I spring forward.

Dagger poised well above my head, I propel myself toward him, targeting the spot where his heart might reside should he actually be in possession of one.

Startled, Killian stumbles backward as Braxton’s father quickly ducks out of his hold.

“Natasha, no!” he cries out, a horrible guttural sound, but it’s too late for that.

My body collides with Killian’s, sending us crashing to the ground.

For a fleeting second, Killian seems to yield, his blade at his side, his swimming-pool eyes locked onto mine.

As I drive my own blade toward him, I could swear I hear him whisper, “Just do it already.”

Without hesitation, I follow through, the tip of my blade sinking into his chest.