“You,” he continues, “carry the ability to shape your own destiny.” Jacob’s eyes hold mine. “Because we, the Grimms, hold the unique power to rewrite fate itself.”
“Why hasn’t that happened before? With our mother or father?” Gwyneth voices the question in my mind.
Wilhem shakes his head. “The potential is in each of the Grimms, but to claim the power there has to be a pair of siblings whose hearts stay true.”
The words settle over me, heavy with meaning. For the first time since Eron fell, something shifts inside me.
Hope.
“You are like the Idols?” Malachi asks.
Wilhelm slams his fist on the table, making everyone jump. “No, not even close. The Idols are our creation.”
“Abomination,” Jacob adds.
My forehead creases as I try to make sense of their declaration. “You wrote the original narratives?”
“That’s correct. And those characters were then charged with keeping their world alive.”
“So they became Idols?” Gwyneth checks.
“Some,” Jacob concedes. “But others wanted the freedom to create their own realms, ones scattered throughout the worlds. Some have multiple narratives, while others stayed small.”
“And what about you?” Hart asks. “Don’t you get involved?”
Jacob swipes a hand down his face. “We are tired. Our power is a weight neither of us wishes to bear any longer. We’ve been biding our time, waiting for a pair of descendants, strong and true, to take over.”
I’m also tired. Exhausted, really. I don’t want to take over anything in this cruel world. In my current mood, I’m more likely to burn it all to the ground.
“You are already affecting the narratives,” Jacob says as Theo coaxes me to swallow some of the sweet tea. The burn slidesdown my throat. “But we have to complete the transfer of power if you want to alter something as fundamental as the Lady of the Lake legend.”
Power? My lashes lift. I could rewrite history? “What do we need to do?”
“I see you’ve been gifted the broom,” Wilhelm notes as he strokes Sir Sweeps-A-Lot’s handle.
“Do you have the quill?” Jacob asks.
Gwyneth frowns. “Not on me. I left it back at the Hallows.”
Jacob nods. “No matter, the transfer can happen so long as it’s been bestowed on you. If the All Knowing deemed you worthy, that’s all that matters.”
“What do they have to do with the power?” I wonder. I need to make sure I understand this.
“One of you is the story maker, who forges the world to her will. The other records the narrative with the quill, embedding it in history and the fabric of the realm.”
“Daphne is the story maker,” Gwyneth declares.
“Why do I have a broom?”
“He’s special. Making history and changing fates is a messy business. You’ll make mistakes,” Jacob says with a tilt of his head. He’s right—I’ve made the biggest mistake of my life. “The broom possesses the unique ability to undo those mistakes.”
All eyes snap to Sir Sweeps-A-Lot, who backs into a corner. Can he undo death?
“So once we have the power, we can undo Daphne’s fate?” Gwyneth checks.
Jacob’s gaze catches mine. “Once you embrace your destiny, your power will know no bounds. Just be mindful of what you do with it, because there are consequences you cannot control. It’s how the fairy tales were twisted with darkness. The more you meddle, the more unpredictable they become.”
Unpredictable is acceptable.
