And then, once we’re on the move, I will tell Thyra what really happened in this field.
Her throat constricts audibly. “I foresaw?—”
She closes her eyes and takes a breath, inhaling the air as if it’s the food she needs. When she opens her eyes again, the shadows in her expression are even darker.
“I saw countless versions of the fight with the Northerners, but the future I’ve now set in motion carries a threat I don’t understand.”
A sharp chill strikes my damaged heart, driving deep when Thyra asks, “What is the Winter Strife?”
Chapter Thirty-Six
Thyra
Stellen has stiffened, but I can’t allow him to evade my question.
Of all the futures I foresaw, I chose the one that prevented my immediate death, but that was not the end of it.
While my scream stopped Fable in her tracks, my mind remained split between the present and the future.
What I saw next…
“Stellen,” I whisper, a soft command. “You will tell me: what is the Winter Strife?”
So far, I’m certain he hasn’t lied to me. He uses the truth to his advantage, but his silences…like his quietness now…are loud.
“I’ll answer all of your questions,” he says. “But first, I want to know about these versions of the future so I understand the context for your question.”
Tugging my cloak closer around me and taking comfort from Nara’s presence at my side, I describe to Stellen what I saw. Each variation, starting from the moment we stepped out from the Alak-Teah to find Brunkilgripping Lilis on her knees.
When I tell him about each vision showing me a different fight with the Northerners, he murmurs, “Options. Always, I consider the options before I act.”
No doubt in the blink of an eye. As quickly as the visions sped through my mind.
Now, he draws a conclusion I wasn’t prepared to speak aloud. “Your visions aligned with my way of thinking.” He gives me a pointed stare. “I’m assuming this sort of thing never happened with your father’s visions.”
“Not to my knowledge.”
Stellen’s flickering smile is smug. “Just as I thought. You can do more than he could.”
“Maybe.” I can’t deny the frightening possibility that my Oracle visions are influenced by Stellen’s nature. Just as they may have been influenced by Antony’s nature.
My Oracle visions in the Iron Kingdom were sharply focused on Antony. First, I helped us escape the bloodlands, a place closely aligned with his dark secret, carrying us through the hidden tunnel with the ethereal light in it; then I foretold his sister’s safe arrival home. But soon after, my Oracle power became stilted, and I still don’t know why.
Now, it’s possible my visions are showing me life as Stellen sees it: a series of strategic moves.
“In all but one of my visions, Fable killed me,” I say, keeping my voice flat. “In those visions, as soon as I died, you killed Fable.”
Stellen has stiffened again. “That’s why you told her she’d die if she struck you down.”
“Her death was assured.”
“In all but one vision,” Stellen says, repeating my words. “What made that one different?”
“I saw a memory,” I say. “A moment between Fable and hermother.”
Quickly, I describe to Stellen the memory I saw and the image of the feather forming in white ink on her wrist. “The feather isn’t visible on her arm anymore, so maybe she removed the ink somehow, but the memory is what matters. That’s what I screamed about. And, as you know, it stopped her.”
Stellen’s response is impossibly soft. “Memories have the power to destroy us.”
