I need to move before I do something I regret.
Rushing toward the stairs, I take them two at a time until I come to a stop on the fourth floor.
I charge for my dorm, swinging into the room in a flurry, only to startle when I see Rion sprawled out on the sofa. He lifts his head, offering me a questioning look as I slam the door shut behind me.
“Is everything okay?” he asks, waving his cell phone at me. “You said everything was sorted,” he adds, and I grunt, unable to form words right now, choosing instead to hightail it to my room.
Another slam vibrates through the space as I slam that door too, finally isolated in my room. Hiding away from the rest of the world is a strength I never give myself credit for, but right now, it doesn’t feel like the blessing it usually is. It’s more like a curse.
My feet carry me toward my desk and my palms splay across the wood as my shoulders cave, slumping forward beneath the weight of everything that just happened. My body trembles with emotions and desires I can’t give in to. The cords in my forearms strain as my hands clench, and I can’t seem to shake the tension.
Daring to tilt my head back, my eyes fixate on one of my most prized possessions: the picture of my family.
My mother, father, and sister all look back at me, and it makes my heart seize with sadness.
Remembering that day, the exact moment the picture was taken, always fills me with dread, yet recalling how blissfully happy we were in that moment is the lifeline I cling to every day. Seeing it today, I’m reminded that nothing's the same anymore.
Nothing.
Instinctively, I reach for my mother's pocket mirror. It’s cracked, distorting the reflection, but I cherish it, just like she cherished me.
I run my thumb along the sharp edges as I exhale slowly, embracing the sadness for a moment before I shake it off so I can remain focused and resilient.
My next breath flutters in my chest as the prophecy comes to mind.
They will rise with fire in their bones and ruin in their wake, step the shadows that you reap and give more than you shall take. Blood shall bind you, love shall break you. Only in the face of death shall the path be clear; the world mourns with the final tear.
It's as if the words are touching my mother's pocket mirror, ingrained into every surface, yet it triggers something in my mind. Those words have run through my mind over one thousand times before, but today, they come slowly, like each word imprints on my soul.
I repeat them again, clinging to my mother’s final possession, and I find myself torn.
“Fate or choice,” I breathe, as if my mother could hear me now and give me the answer and guidance I need.
My gaze darts to the photo again, her broad smile, and I let the strength of it wash over me. I sway on my feet as my heart stutters, and I repeat the prophecy again. Aloud this time.
“They will rise with fire in their bones and ruin in their wake, step the shadows that you reap and give more than you shall take. Blood shall bind you, love shall break you. Only in the face of death shall the path be clear; the world mourns with the final tear.”
Fate or choice.
Maybe they are the same thing.
I feel lightheaded as I stand tall, gripping my mother's mirror tighter. My lungs feel close to exploding.
I repeat it again, letting the words sink in, and I practically feel them seeping into my veins. They flicker through every fiber of my being, and the truth appears before me as I stare at my distorted reflection in the shattered mirror.
Maybe I’ve been looking at this all wrong.
Maybe I’ve been waiting for someone else to fulfill the prophecy when it could have been me all along.
My heart hammers over the idea, but my mind has never felt clearer.
Returning the mirror to its rightful place, I take a deep breath as I pass my eyes over my family photo one last time.
This is it. This is the time I no longer take guidance from the prophecy; instead, I guide the prophecy toward fruition.
I know what I want, whether it’s the right thing or not; there's only one way I'm ever going to find out.
26
