I shot to my feet, heart suddenly racing.
In a few strides, I crossed the library and ran my hand along the rows of worn leather spines in the philosophy section, fingertips brushing titles I knew by heart.
No sleep tonight. Not until I was sure.
It was going to be a long night.
* * *
When Caelan and Lydia came back the next morning, I was still awake.
Not just awake.
I was wired.
Jittery, eyes bloodshot, mind racing faster than it probably should’ve been.
“I think I know how to get her back!” I practically shouted the moment they stepped into the library.
Lydia dropped her bag on the floor and rushed over. “Tell me everything.”
I exhaled, trying to slow down, but it all came tumbling out anyway.
“Something you said last night, it wouldn’t leave me alone. About how Maelishad no choice, how the Fates were the ones keeping her away. It stuck in my head and just… spun there. Everything came back to that old question: who actuallydecideswhere our lives go? Is it us? Or is it them? Free will versus Fate, philosophers have been beating that dead horse for centuries. But the thing is, there’s never been a clear answer, because maybe thereisn’tone.
“But somewhere between all the theories, I found something that makes sense. Something thatfeelstrue. I think the Fates lost their grip on her. They told her they made a mistake, and theyadmittedit. And I think of her sacrifice, the way she gave herself up without hesitation, without calculation… It shook something fundamental. It created a ripple so powerful, it knocked her out of their reach. She didn’t just die. She broke the script. And now? They won’t send her back, because theycan’t. She’s outside the lines. Untouchable by the very forces that were supposed to control her.”
I was out of breath when I stopped talking. My hands were shaking a little.
Maybe from the adrenaline.
I looked between them, bracing myself for the worst.
For Lydia to tell me I’d finally snapped completely and should probably be sedated.
But she didn’t.
Instead, her eyes scanned my messy scrawl of notes, and then, slowly, she smiled.
Not out of pity. Not out of amusement. But because shebelievedme.
“Let’s call Veridus and Syllaca,” she said. “Maelis needs to hear this. She needs to face the Fates.”
A few hours later, the library was full.
Veridus, Syllaca, Caelan, Lydia, even the Abbot, who’d avoided me like the plague for months. Guess news of a crack in the cosmic order will bring even the most skeptical priests running.
I presented everything.
The whole theory.
The mistakes.
The sacrifice.
The idea that Mae wasn’t bound by the same rules anymore, that she might be able to come homeif she knew.
We decided Veridus would go back.
