Inherent Fate

by Geanna Culbertson

  The familiar, enigmatic woman with the light brown skin and dark, curly hair appeared before me. She wore a teal zip-up jacket and gray sweatpants.

  I was both angry and intrigued to see her. I was tired of her coming to me in my dreams and giving me mysterious messages that were too garbled to understand. At the same time, I had to know who she was.

  It was hard to tell how long I had. My moments with her never lasted, though they were getting clearer. The last time I’d dreamed of her—when I was unconscious in Lenore’s office—I’d managed to hear her speak a few sentences clearly.

  Now her image was the clearest I’d ever seen it. And I felt like I had more control over what was happening. Like while I might not be able to keep her here, maybe I could hold her for a bit to get some answers.

  “This is getting old,” I commented with a sigh as I approached her. “Who are you? You’re not like my other dreams. This doesn’t feel like a slice of the future. It feels like it’s happening now.”

  “That’s because it is happening now,” the woman replied. “If only inside our heads.”

  “Our heads,” I responded.

  I collided with a wall three feet from her. It was invisible, like a force field. It glittered gold when I touched it. I took a step away and rubbed my head. Despite being in a dream, the collision had hurt.

  “You keep trying to warn me about something that I need to remember. What did you mean by that? Last time you said he was the key.”

  “The dragon,” the woman responded, drawing nearer and stopping just before where the force field had stopped me.

  “You mean the one from Century City that’s been following us across Book?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, what specifically do I need to remember about him?”

  “I’m sorry. I’m not sure about the details, Crisa. It has something to do with the first time you touched him. Past that, all I can tell you is that when the time comes and you face Nadia, remembering him will be the only thing that can save you.”

  “How do you know about Nadia?” I asked, my eyebrows shooting up in alert. “And when am I supposed to face her?”

  “Soon,” the woman responded. “Arian is still after you. When you and Daniel escaped the lamp it gave off a signal. Arian knows you’re headed to the Cave of Mysteries. He’s notified all of Alderon to be on the lookout.”

  “Yeah, I heard,” I replied, rolling my eyes and thinking of the newspaper in Goldilocks’s lair. “For a kingdom full of foiled villains, they have a ridiculously fast news cycle.” I met the woman’s gaze anew and noticed she was fading out, dissolving back into the void.

  I harnessed whatever control I had to steady the dream and keep her in focus.

  “How do you know all of this?” I asked. “How are you inside my head?”

  “I see the future like you do, Crisa,” she responded, her voice growing lighter with every syllable. “And it is that common bond that establishes our connection. You’ll have more answers soon, but only if you survive what’s coming. I can’t protect you and your friends from Nadia or Arian—only you can. That is why I’ve been coming to you in your sleep. To warn you that it all comes down to one thing.”

  Her entire form was almost gone. I concentrated, trying to bring her back, but it was no use. Her body vanished. But I heard the end of her warning.

  “Remember the dragon, Crisa. And follow the stream.”

  Her voice echoed through the empty void. The force field that had been separating us glimmered. Gingerly, I held my hand up to its boundary. My fingers extended with the intention of skimming its surface. But the moment they made contact, a powerful, abrupt burst of images jerked through my subconscious.

  A beautiful sword gripped in Daniel’s hand, catching the light on its blade. Jason locked in combat with Arian. A furry lavender cat with piercing green eyes lounging on a tree branch, smiling. Blue with tears in her eyes and blood on her hands. The glass Pegasus figurine on SJ’s desk back at school. And then the giant bronze serpent I’d seen in previous dreams.

  The serpent came crashing through my perspective, black glass raining around it. Its head was the size of a carriage; its fangs—maliciously sharp and pointed—made ice picks look like toothpicks. The creature’s eyes glowed bright gold as it charged me. I braced myself for the crash, but was shocked by a much different kind of assault.

  I was in a dark, confined space. The bright light of the desert flooded in with a sudden burst as a hatch door opened on the other side. An arm reached out and grabbed me by the collar. I was thrust out of the small enclosure and onto the ground outside. I grunted as my face plowed into sand.

  My hands and feet were shackled. I heard murmuring voices coming from all around me. A hand gripped my shoulder.

  “Knight?”

  Out of instinct I jolted up, coming out swinging. Daniel barely jumped back in time to evade getting hit. “Hey!” he said. “Take it easy. I’m just waking you up.”

  I blinked, adjusting to real life and the cool light of morning. The ground was damp beneath me. The moon was gone and replaced with a pale coat of blueish gray. “Sorry,” I muttered, my vision focusing on Daniel. “Just a reflex.”

  “Bad vision?” he asked.

  I tensed a bit. Then I remembered that he knew all about my abilities to see the future. I’d told him and the others about them right before we left Ashlyn’s to return to Adelaide.

  Hmm. I guess that’s gonna take some getting used to.

  “Yeah,” I said, releasing a deeply repressed breath. “I’ve been having dreams about this one woman. She’s been trying to warn me about something, but I couldn’t understand what until now. She says that we’ll face Nadia soon and that when we do the only thing that will save us will be me remembering the dragon.”

  “The dragon?” Daniel repeated. “You mean the one from the capital that’s been stalking us?”

  “Yeah. But she says I need to remember the first time I touched him.”

  “When was that?” Daniel asked.

  “That’s the thing; I haven’t. I’ve come close to getting barbecued by him, but I’ve never actually made contact.”

  “Weird.” Daniel offered me his hand and helped me to my feet. “What else did you see? You seemed pretty torn up while you were sleeping, like you were in a lot of pain. Any more visions you want to share?”

  I thought about the cell I’d just been in, the epic bronze serpent, Chance and me in that carriage . . .

  “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Isn’t that something girls say when they actually do want to talk about it?” Daniel countered.

  I shot him an annoyed look then switched my focus to our surroundings. It was at that moment that I finally took in the beauty of the forest. The same cold blue that painted the sky poked in and out of the tall, slender trees. A light mist coated the air, which my breath faded into as I exhaled the iciness. In complete contrast to everything else, the blanket of fallen leaves set the ground ablaze with autumnal grace. The earth was covered with so many warm, fiery colors it looked like a titan had spilled a giant jar of red pepper flakes.

  “What time is it?” I asked Daniel.

  “About six o’clock,” he responded, taking a couple of steps forward.

  I noticed he was limping slightly. “Those rocks fell on you pretty hard,” I commented, recalling the avalanche of stone that had pinned him down when the Magistrake attacked. “I’m surprised you were able to fight as well as you did back at the lake.”

  He shrugged. “Had to be done. The adrenaline compensated. Hasn’t the same thing happened to you?”

  “Yeah, I suppose.” I eyed his leg worriedly. “What about now, though? Are you sure you’re okay?”

  “I’m fine.”

  “Isn’t that something boys say when they are hurt but are too proud to admit it?” I countered, smirking.

  Daniel returned the comment with the same irritated expression I’d given him a beat earl
ier. He nodded toward the thick woods. “Any ideas on which way we should head?”

  “How should I know?”

  “You’re the resident psychic.”

  I was about to protest when my ears suddenly detected a sound that they hadn’t been properly paying attention to. The stream nearby was flowing gently, its waters trickling off stones as it traveled downstream.

  “Follow the stream,” I thought aloud. I pivoted to Daniel. “The woman in my dream also said to follow the stream. I think she meant this one.”

  “Knight, you don’t even know who that woman is, let alone if this stream is the one she was referring to. Are you sure this is a good idea?”

  My eyes traced the path of the stream all the way to where it proceeded through a curve in the earth and faded into the foreboding mist of trees. I glanced back at Daniel. “No. But let’s do it anyway.”

  nlike every other forest we’d travelled through on this journey, this one was calm, non-enchanted, and monster-less.

  I couldn’t help but note what great time we made when miscellaneous foes weren’t trying to kill us. Following the stream through the woods for three hours was the most peaceful endeavor we’d undertaken in a while.

  Daniel and I talked a little during the trek. I finally got the chance to describe to him what had transpired between Lenore and me back at Fairy Godmother Headquarters.

  At one point, I reactivated my Hole Tracker to check the map and make sure we were at least headed in the right direction. Unfortunately, I had to turn it off quickly, lest it combust and take my hand along with it.

  Daniel made his way around large stones on the edge of the stream. I followed, hopping from one to the next like it was a game.

  “I guess I owe you a thank you,” Daniel said.

  His voice caught me off guard and caused me to slip, one boot submerging into the stream. Water soaked through the leather and into my sock. Silver sparks from my SRB appeared and dried my shoe and sock as I continued after Daniel. They also sent a surge of pain up my leg due to Earth’s magical backlash, but I decided not to mention it.

  “For what?” I asked him, ignoring the sting.

  “For saving me when we were in Alderon. I could hear what you were saying when I was in that orb, and I want to let you know I appreciate what you did. You almost got killed because of me.”

  I shrugged. “You would’ve done the same for me.”

  As soon as I uttered the response, I scrunched up my eyebrows, struck by my own words.

  That was true, wasn’t it? He’d saved me several times before, but until now I’d been so blinded by my distrust and dislike of him that I hadn’t properly valued the gesture. As the statement came out of me—so easily and without caveat—I appreciated how much our dynamic had changed since we’d first met. When we weren’t fighting or doubting each other, things felt almost simple between us.

  Part of me wished they could always be this way. At the same time I knew better. Because of who we were to each other, things could never be simple. This feeling—open, exposed, and intertwined—had an expiration date. I was doing what I could to sustain it for now. But it was a bandage on a deeper issue, one that I was not sure would hold true or protect our connection in the long term, let alone when really tested and old habits and instinct came calling.

  I looked at the back of Daniel’s head, trying to imagine what thoughts dwelled there during the lulls in our conversation. Did he wonder about this stuff too? Did it matter to him that our newfound peace was a result of necessity and would likely cease once our venture to the Author ended? Did he know where he drew the line when it came to protecting Kai and what he would do to keep me from standing in the way?

  I shivered at the last question. It wasn’t very long ago that Daniel and I had been on the magic train. When I’d fallen off the roof and plummeted toward the canyon below, he had been the one to catch me. Yet I could not forget that he’d hesitated.

  The memory of his expression as he watched me fall was deeply ingrained. And the doubt inside me made me wonder if in that moment, he’d considered letting me go. After all, if I was out of the way, then so were the threats of his prologue prophecy, right?

  I tried my best to bury the thought.

  “You know what gets me about the antagonists?” Daniel said abruptly.

  Again his voice startled me. I jumped off a large stone—my boots landing in the moist grass with a squish—and jogged up next to him.

  “What?”

  “If you think about it, they’re braver than we are.”

  I was at his side now so he was able to see my face scrunch in confusion.

  “Of the three core archetypes in this realm, they’re the only ones not chosen by the Author,” he explained. “They choose their own path whereas the rest of us—commons and protagonists—just take the lot we’re assigned.”

  “Some choice,” I huffed.

  It was true that antagonists weren’t appointed their roles. It’s not like the Author wrote antagonist books. They were all just commons who’d decided to make evil their life’s purpose.

  You could break down these antagonists into three overarching types: magic hunter, wicked witch or warlock, and basic baddie. While they varied in degrees in terms of power and potential to wreak havoc, they all started as commons.

  People who grew up to be magic hunters shared a genetic marker. They were born with a sixth sense that allowed them to detect magic, picking up its scent in creature and enchanted object alike. However, the gene didn’t automatically affect every member of a bloodline.

  For those who were carriers of the gene, the scent of magic was very tempting. Just as a person with long, strong legs might be predisposed to becoming a runner or someone skilled with animals and first aid might be inclined to being a veterinarian, the magic detection gene made you susceptible to pursuing a life as a magic hunter. Indeed, most commons afflicted by the gene decided to dedicate their lives to hunting down magic in an effort to become more powerful.

  The second type of antagonist—wicked witch or warlock—was a little more dangerous. Fairy Godmothers were the only humans supposed to have magical powers, but every once in a while there was an exception. Usually that was when a magic hunter absorbed the power of his or her prey and became magical.

  Having magic didn’t make you evil. We trusted countless Fairy Godmothers to wield immense power and look after our realm, and they all had good intentions. (For the most part anyway. I’m not sure where I would rank Lena Lenore in that spectrum.)

  But magic was a lot to handle. That’s why the Fairy Godmothers didn’t let just anybody join their ranks. You couldn’t exactly apply to their agency. You had to be recommended by a protagonist, approved by realm and kingdom leaders, and deemed worthy by the Godmothers themselves through a rigorous selection process. Holding that much power was a huge responsibility. So you had to be strong enough and honorable enough to keep it from corrupting you.

  Given that magic hunters had already embraced wickedness—you had to kill a magical creature to steal its power—by the time hunters gained their power, the evil ship had sailed. They were bad and magic only corrupted them more. Thus, they became wicked witches or warlocks.

  Other forms of witches and warlocks were those commons who were extremely talented in potions (like my best friend SJ) but who decided to use that mastery to pursue evil and try to cause harm to others (not like my best friend SJ).

  The last kind of antagonist—your basic baddie—was the simplest and arguably most complex branch of the archetype. Baddies were normal commons who’d chosen a path of villainy. There was no magic detection gene, no magic powers, and no potions influencing their decision. The only thing at play was a desire to be something more fueled by a discontent with the life they currently had.

  Maybe they were poor and sought riches. Maybe they were meager and sought power. Maybe they just got tired of living in a world where they were treated as second-class citizens. One way or another
, they chose to make a name for themselves by pursuing antagonism. Thieves, murderers, schemers, plotters—they were simply regular people who’d grown tired of being common and elected to steal power or affluence some other way.

  A good example was my step-grandmother. She was a common who was driven down a path of wickedness by the jealousy she bore toward my protagonist mother, Cinderella. Since her own two daughters weren’t chosen as protagonists, my step-grandmother manipulated, psychologically abused, and tormented my mother all through her childhood so that when my mother eventually made it as a protagonist she would be subservient to the family.

  However, when my father (the prince) selected my mother as his bride, my mother stood up to my step-grandmother and refused to be under her thumb any longer. This caused my step-grandmother to snap and she and her eldest daughter tried to kill my mother. Thankfully they were both caught and sent to Alderon as punishment.

  Just thinking about them—even after all these years—filled me with bitterness. I’d obviously never met them; I’d never even seen a picture. But I hated the pair for all the pain they’d caused my mother. Being this defiant and snarky, I knew a thing or two about archenemies. And while my insolence may have meant I had a couple of them coming, my mother never deserved such malice. She deserved so much better than the childhood she got, and it always bothered me that there was nothing I could do or say to right any of the ways she’d been wronged.

  Past this, another thing that concerned me about the situation was that people could just turn dark like that. My step-grandmother was wealthy. She had the money and lands my grandfather left her when he died. She had children; she had a life. How could her resentment for my mother be strong enough to make her throw all that away and embrace wickedness?

  My grandfather had married her in the first place, so she couldn’t have been all bad at the beginning. Why had she given that up? Was her jealousy really that strong? Could anyone—given the right provocation—turn dark like she had?