Yes, yes, I know this already. I click my tongue and flip ahead, skimming over the parts I’ve long since committed to memory.
The future may continue to withhold answers for days, months, or years . . . Some Shades lose the ability to see indefinitely . . . Once cast, there is no way to reverse the spell.
No way to reverse the spell.The words practically leap off the page, sending my stomach to my knees. That means I can’t walk it back or beg the future’s forgiveness. I have no choice but to work with the vision I received.
So then, please, tell me how to do that.The minutes speed by as I search Fernay’s treaties for any such tips. There are pages that list, with unerring diligence, all the constructions of phrase the future may deem ‘open’, others that detail first-hand accounts from those Shades the fates chose to punish, as well as whole essays on the Council’s choice to start phasing out the technique. It took them years to come to that decision, it seems, and the seers’ guild only agreed to forbid the practice after it lost half its number to something Fernay calls ‘the event’.
Would it have really killed him to say a little more?I curse the shocking lack of specifics. If the man could spend a dozen pages waxing lyrical about the political unrest that followed the loss of those Shades’power, why not spare a paragraph or two for the reason that so many suddenly found themselves on the outs with fate when they’d been asking open questions just fine until then.
A curiosity for a different time.Chapter by chapter, I tear through the rest of his ramblings, praying to all three Gods that Fernay dedicated at least a few words to dealing with the effects of the questions themselves, how to interpret this type of vision. And finally—colors help me,finally—after a tediously long search, I manage to spot the heading I need.
Fate-Touched Magic
Indigos who choose to break with the Council’s modern stance on casting are referred to as fate-touched on account that they have deliberately entered into a turbulent relationship with the fates.
There are a myriad reasons for why a Shade might elect to do that, the most compelling of which being that it grants them access to the wider range of visions the open method allows. These include the ability to see fated paths as well as simple futures, where fated paths is taken to mean a future that is impervious to change or decision-led collapse.
The churn in my gut blunts an inch. Clearly, the termfate-touchedused to have slightly less disparaging connotations or else Fernay wouldn’t be speaking of it in such a detached, measured way.Fated paths as well as simple futuresalso suggests that I may still regain my ability to see normally, andwider range of visionsimplies that there could actually be some benefit to testing the future’s patience.
Now, if only Fernay would tell me what those visions are or how to read them . . .I grumble at his inability to stay on subject. At the way he, once again, skips the instructions in favor of chasing some non-related thread.
A curiosity of fate-touched visions is that they can be projected from mind to mind.
Right. Because having broken the rules, the first thing I’d want to do is go and show other people that I broke them.
They can also remind you of significant moments from your past.
Wonderful. Another entirely useless skill. Fernay sure does love those. So much so that he spends the next few paragraphs listing examples for why an Indigo might wish to be transported back.
Of all the pointless, irrelevant things to care abou—
“Erm . . . what are you doing?” Killen’s voice snaps me out of Fernay’s ramblings, startling the book from my hands.
“What—?Nothing, I—I’m just studying.” I hurry to slam the incriminating tome shut, though there’s no hiding the vast pile of texts still gathered around me, their very telling titles and the fact that none of them are recent enough to have been assigned.
“Since when do you study before class?” After last night’s encounter, Killen’s tone is less than polite, his eyes cold with suspicion.
“Since I can’t afford to fail my trials again.” I feed him the same half-truth I fed Akari, the blood in my cheeks flaming to life. Where money is Killen’s sore spot, my lack of ability is mine—and he knows that because we were still together when I failed my trials the first time around. When the threat of a binding sent me crying into his arms.
I didn’t fall in love with your magic, Raya.Bound or not bound, it won’t change how I feel about you. He’d said it so sweetly—so earnestly—and all it did was squirm my insides. Because had our roles been reversed, Iwouldhave cared if he’d lost his power. I would have cared and it would have ruined us because I just didn’t love him enough. And it was that realization that prompted me to ask the future for a reason to break his heart.
“Why areyouhere so early, anyway?” I’m quick to steer his attention back to safer ground.
“I work here,” he says, cheeks reddening to match mine. “Three mornings a week. For a few months now.”
“Oh.” It feels like I should have known that. Like I should have done a better job checking up on him after we split.
“You’re just lucky I’m the only one on duty today.” Killen shrugs, crouching down to attack the mess of books I left on the ground. “The other archivists don’t much like it when you ransack the shelves.”
“No, please, you don’t have to do that—” I try to beat him to the pile.
Too late.
I see the exact moment he gets it, the strange assortment of puzzle pieces pulling together in his mind.
Me, wisping into his room, out of the blue, in the middle of the night.
Asking him to rid me of an unwanted compulsion spell.
