"I wish I wasn't," I said. "I wish I'd seen myself tripping over a basket of laundry in a harmless future where the biggest threat was ironing linen."
Keegan's mouth twitched, but it didn't become a smile.
He studied me.
“And you think the mirror is showing a future,” he said carefully.
“I don’t know what it’s showing,” I confessed. “Maybe just options or choices if I’m not careful.”
Keegan didn’t flinch.
“Okay,” he said, softening his voice. “Okay. It might not be a fixed future.”
I stared at him, wishing this wasn’t the conversation. I don’t know what I’d hoped the pedestal would show me, but this certainly wasn’t it.
“I walked as if I chose it, and that’s the most terrifying thing about it.”
“I don’t know what to say,” he admitted, and the honesty of it almost undid me more than comfort would have. “I don’t want to dismiss it. And I don’t want to feed it.”
“I hate it,” I whispered. “I hate that it’s in my head now, like a planted seed.”
Keegan squeezed me tighter.
“You’re not her,” he said, the words rougher now. “And you’re not… someone who can be shaped that easily.”
“But what if I am?” I blurted.
Keegan’s eyes stayed on mine. “Maeve,” he said, low and firm, “listen to me.”
I tried. I did. But my mind was already spiraling—already rearranging every moment, every choice, every impulse. Was the pedestal warning me? Was it bait? Was it a test? Was it showing what she wanted me to believe?
Keegan shifted, sliding his arm around my back, helping me rise. My legs felt untrustworthy, but he was steady. He guidedme up the stairs slowly, step by step, as if we had all the time in the world and none of it was going to collapse under us.
When we reached the living room, the firelight hit my face, and I realized my cheeks were wet.
I didn’t remember crying.
Keegan led me to the couch and sat beside me, close but not crowding. He reached for a throw blanket, thick and soft, and draped it over my legs.
The cottage smelled like tea leaves and woodsmoke, and the faint lavender Miora liked to tuck into corners of the cottage, which I had mocked relentlessly until I started needing it.
I pressed my palm to my forehead.
“There’s no way,” I whispered. “There is no way I would—”
“I know,” Keegan said quietly. “I can’t pretend I understand what the pedestal shows, but I know this: visions can lie. Or they can show possibilities. Or they can show what someone wants you to fear.”
My stomach twisted.
“You think she can influence it?” I asked.
“The very first time you used the pedestal, you saw the beauty of the Academy’s library because Elira wanted you to see the possibilities.”
His words made me feel better.
“It didn’t mean you would necessarily see them, but she managed to call to you from it.”
I nodded and let out a deep breath.
