Page 15 of Against All Odds

Like Soraya, who had blocked and unfollowed Rebekah on every social media channel, only to unblock her and stalk her at least once every damn day.

If only she knew that what she thought she felt for Rebekah wasn’t love, but limerence – another thing I’d learned today, from a book titled ‘Repetition and Desire: Feedback Loops in the Conscious Mind’. On a subconscious level, we choose what feels familiar. When someone gives you constant mixed signals, your nervous system interprets the anxiety as excitement and calls it love. But clearly, she was too young and naive to realize that.

“How’s your assignment going?” Jurrian asked, as if he could read my mind.

Immediately, I tensed up. He had visited me a few times before, but he had never directly asked this question before. I hadn’t dared to use my abilities since the disaster with the driver. I’d spent the first few days anxiously awaiting consequences, but so far, nothing had happened. Did Jurrian know what I had done?

“It’s going alright, I suppose.” I shrugged, picking up the book again to skim through the pages with feigned nonchalance. “I haven’t been using my power much. Felt like it was better to just observe at first, you know?”

Jurrian nodded slowly, lifting his head as if thinking it through. “That seems wise. Most new guardians jump into things immediately, manipulating odds in their assigned’s life at every minor occasion. They assume this is the fastest way into the higher realm, but in reality, it’s often why they fail their assignments.”

I gave a slow nod, not breaking eye contact. “I have a few questions about the probmanu, if that’s okay.”

His brow furrowed. “Probmanu?”

“Probability manipulation.” Clearly, I was the first guardian who thought to abbreviate the dreadful term.

He gave a quick nod. “Ask away. I will answer as I can.”

I studied him from above the book now that he wasn’t looking at me. “Do you, ehm, get notified when a guardian uses their power?”

I hoped the question sounded curious rather than investigative.

“Not directly.” He scratched the back of his head, not seeming to think anything of it. “But then again, it’s not me who will make the judgment. I’m just here to guide you, similar to how guardians like you guide the mortals. A mentor’s role is to keep an eye on the guardians assigned to them, steer them in the right direction when needed.” His dark eyes zoned back in on me, immediately making me question the certainty I felt earlier. “So for your own benefit, it’s best you’re honest with me. Otherwise, I cannot help you.”

A shiver ran down my spine.

I hesitated for a moment, thinking about the best way to phrase this without raising suspicion. “So if you don’t get notified… how does the Court know when someone is breaking the rules? So I can avoid…” getting caught. “…breaking them.”

He cleared his throat. “When multiple unusual events happen to an assigned within a short timeframe, the Court is alerted, and they go investigate. I am unsure when and how they are alerted, but they’ll know. They can call out to the Source and assess any probability just as you can. If they decide the guardian is abusing their ability…” His earnest dark eyes found mine, and I resisted the urge to look away, “…action is taken.”

My stomach turned. I said nothing, nor did I avert my gaze.

“It’s all about patience,” he said earnestly. “Be patient with your assigned soul, even if you do not understand their choices. Trust that though their actions may seem counterproductive, in the end, they want what every human wants: to be happy.”

I couldn’t help but scoff. “Clearly, you have not yet met my assigned. She’s a disaster.”

There it was again – the smile that revealed the deep sadness beneath his warm eyes. “Why have you stolen from so many, Seren?”

“Wow.” I put my hand to my chest in mock-offense, as if that could hide how much the question stung. “Uncalled for.”

“We cannot help another if we are unwilling to face our own demons.”

“It’s not like I stole from innocents,” I muttered, lowering my gaze. “Most of those men in the casino were cheating on their wives with hookers, gambling away their money to forget how much they hate their lives, and—”

“We both know that’s not the full truth. The casino customers weren’t saints, maybe – but aside from them, you have swindled many whose sole crime was being too trusting. People who had families to feed. And even if their slates weren’t clean, that does not change the mark your actions have left on your own.”

My fists clenched around the book I was holding, my knuckles whitening.

“I was just trying to survive,” I muttered, barely audible.

“Survive to what end?” he continued – mercilessly.

I flinched at his sharp tone. “God, who knows? Aren’t we all trying to survive?”

“I’m not asking about other people; I’m asking about you. What were you trying to escape?”

I sighed, throwing the book aside. “The pain, Jurrian. I was trying to escape the fucking pain of watching my childhood home burn down in front of my own two eyes, knowing everyone I loved was inside when I was twelve years old, and realized I would have to spend the rest of my life without them.”