Page 48

Morrigan

"A gain," I demand, clutching the girl's hands.

I am not kind. If I were, I'd give her time. A day. A year.

She's a woman by now, and a comely one. When I first brought her to this chamber, she was little more than a girl.

ButMarun Farra is the only seer born with such precise, far-reaching vision, and I have to keep going.

I know the world thinks I'm mad. I seldom leave these rooms. I seldom drink, or sleep, or eat. I haven't brushed my hair in an age.

But in every vision, I see this world reduced to cinders, my children all dead, hope, gone, in a thousand years.

Just a thousand years. I've lived five millennia.

"Unless you need a rest?" I make myself offer.

We don't have time. This mortal has what, fifty years to live? It's little more than the blink of an eye. We need to change the future.

She shakes her head. The pythia knows the importance of her work.

It should have surprised me that a true seer was born here, but she's from the wilderness, where Moros is captive. The spirit of Fate speaks through her. There's no doubt in my mind that the fabric shaping the universe does not offer such a gift without reason.

"What are we changing this time?" Marun asks.

I make myself think. I've offered so many paths, so many different choices, and they've all led to destruction.

I know the work of fate. The first time it showed its hand, it brought me to the cliffs where I saw that boy being tossed off by the monsters of wings, and I knew the boy needed to live. I gave him his wings and took him with me.

Many times, I've seen him with my daughter, the one I will carry in seven years. These are the facts. The boy and my daughter stay. What else can I move?

"Remove all my living children," I demand, my heart breaking. I’ve tried to keep one or two, so far. The innocent. The kind. The just. I'm proud to say, I have three sweethearts. "Kill them all."

And I watch again.

This is…better. The throne is empty. Ryther cares for Ilvaris for centuries, and fights off outside attacks. The child comes back. She's ignorant, and weak, and alone. Ryther's too cold after all these years alone for them to open to each other for a time. My poor, beautiful daughter. So lonely.

She cries herself to sleep. She's terrified. Doesn't know who to open up to. Ryther does eventually soften. Good. I raised a gentleman, after all. But all those years…

I shake my head.

"But Your Highness, the world. It's…she's saved it. It's no longer burning," Marun marvels.

I suppose there's that.

My poor girl.

"Yes. This works," I admit. "You're free. I will shower you in gold, and give you whatever boon you wish for. But first, I have one request, my child."

"Anything, Mor."

I take her hands again. "Give her a brother. I want another child, after her, born away from court, kept away from the throne. Let's re-run it one last time, yes?"

The End