Chasing the Prophecy

by Brandon Mull

  Please don’t worry about me. I miss you, but I am also very happy. The first time I went to Lyrian was by accident. It was what really happened when I vanished. The amnesia was a cover story. I was never content after returning. This second time I came to Lyrian on purpose, and I am staying voluntarily. This is where I belong now. I love you both. My only regret about being here is that I will never see you again. Everything else is better than I could have hoped for.

  There is no need to let others know about my true fate. It would just make us all look crazy. But I wanted you to know. Use your best judgment on whether to tell any other family members. If you talk to them, tell them I love and miss them, too. Please take good care of Shadow.

  You are wonderful parents. I appreciate all you have given me and all you have done for me. I’m sorry if my disappearance seems ungrateful. Please know that after everyone I have met here, and everything I have gone through, I never could have been satisfied in our world.

  Sorry if I come across like a lunatic. Sorry if this note somehow makes my disappearance worse. I sent this with good intentions. I had to try.

  All my love forever,

  Jason

  EPILOGUE

  HOMEWARD BOUND

  Rachel sat alone in an airy, striped tent. More than five years ago, the oracle of Mianamon had informed her of a certain day when she could return to her proper time. As was inevitable with such deadlines, that day had finally arrived.

  She wore a nondescript dress of coarse gray fabric. It was not identifiable as coming from another world. Even soaked and dirty, it should hold up well.

  A word spoken mentally brought a hand mirror across the room to her. Rachel tried to remember what she had looked like at age thirteen. Her eyes were the same, but her cheeks and chin were more sculpted. She was a couple of inches taller. Her parents would recognize her, but she was no longer their little girl. She would be nineteen soon.

  A muttered word brought an empty glass to her hand. A casual phrase filled it with water from the air. As she drank, she wondered how she would feel to speak Edomic and get no response. It was hard to imagine. Edomic had become as natural as breathing.

  During the past four months, Rachel had studied at the Celestine Library. She had made three other prolonged visits to the library since the fall of Felrook. In that time she had mastered hundreds of new commands and read about thousands more. With tutoring from Farfalee, Rachel had learned to decipher the two most popular forms of Edomic shorthand that scribes had employed over the years.

  Farfalee had been reborn with her left leg paralyzed. She was optimistic that her next rebirth from her new, undamaged seed would fully restore her. Farfalee had insisted that there was currently too much to learn and do for her to lose another three months in the ground. But Rachel felt certain that part of Farfalee’s reluctance came from worry about learning for sure whether the paralyzed leg would be part of life for the rest of her existence.

  The charm woman and a handful of other adepts had joined them on the island jointly guarded by seedfolk, drinlings, and soldiers from Trensicourt. Rachel’s extended periods of study had scarcely provided time to scratch the surface of the knowledge stockpiled there.

  When it came to Edomic, none of the others could begin to compete with Rachel. Elaine could help tutor her regarding charms, but most of the rest Rachel had learned through reading and experimentation. Her abilities had grown exponentially.

  But would she need to verbally summon fire in a world where the twist of a knob would heat a stovetop? Would she require telepathic communication when she could dial up a friend on a cell phone? For personal defense she could always carry pepper spray. She would probably not need it in the pleasant community where her parents lived.

  Jason stepped into the tent, dressed like a prince on an adventure. “You look very generic.”

  “Thanks, I think.”

  “Mind if I come in?”

  “Of course not.”

  “Aram just arrived. He brought his wife.”

  “I haven’t seen her since the wedding!” Rachel said.

  “We’ve missed you at Trensicourt.”

  “I was there most of the time,” Rachel said. “It’s only been a few months. I couldn’t totally neglect the library. Farfalee would never have forgiven me. Besides, with my departure approaching, I wanted to make sure I learned all there was to know about getting in and out of Lyrian.”

  “Aram is the last,” Jason said. “We’re all here.”

  She nodded, setting down the mirror.

  He was wrong. They were not all here. That was one of the big problems with Lyrian. It was full of ghosts. They had won the war, but at what cost? Chandra, Dorsio, Nia, Io, Nedwin. Tark. Drake. Ferrin. What good was saving the world if it meant losing your closest friends?

  Rachel was grateful they had won. She was grateful for those who had survived. Nobody close to her had died since the day Felrook had been blasted into the stratosphere. Lyrian was free. Galloran had declined offers to become emperor, settling for restoring Trensicourt instead. But he could not prevent his legend from growing. Many kingdoms were rebuilding, and they all looked to him for advice and guidance.

  The atmosphere in Lyrian had changed. For the first time in decades the future held real promise. The wizardborn were interacting with humans as never before. But Rachel suspected that for her, Lyrian would always feel haunted.

  “You’re still okay with going?” Jason checked.

  Rachel tried to smile. “What other choice is there? One of us has to stay; one has to go. After all the things Darian got right, we can’t really argue with him.”

  “He’s much too dead for arguments,” Jason agreed. “You kind of want to go anyhow, right?”

  Rachel knew that Jason needed that to be true. He was too nice of a person, and they were too close. If he felt like he had forced her to leave Lyrian so that he could stay, he might feel guilty for the rest of his life.

  “I feel the same way I’ve felt for a long time,” Rachel said honestly. “I want my parents to know that I’m alive. I want to see them again. But I’ll miss a lot of things. I’ll miss all my friends here. I’ve grown used to Lyrian. It’s hard to picture living elsewhere.” She was worried about what her voice might sound like if she expressed her deepest concern. “I’ll miss Edomic.”

  Jason nodded, his eyes serious. “Do you need me to go instead?”

  Rachel wondered how much he meant it. Enough to say it, at least, which was worth something. “This has always been the plan. Besides, Darian mentioned your daughter visiting him, which can’t happen if you aren’t in Lyrian.”

  “He didn’t warn that it had to happen,” Jason said. “It might have just been a possible future. Who knows? Maybe my daughter could cross over like I did?”

  “You’ve built much more of a life here than I have,” Rachel said frankly. “You’ve gotten closer to people. You’ve gotten involved. You run a huge estate. You employ people. You’re the Grand Duke of Caberton, along with your other titles. You could be chancellor if you wanted.”

  Jason shook his head. “Nicholas is better for that job. At least for now.”

  “Besides,” Rachel said, “Corinne would never forgive me.”

  Jason had trouble hiding his grin as he looked away. “Did she say something?”

  “I can just tell.”

  “We’re just friends,” Jason insisted.

  “I know,” Rachel said. “Good friends. No other guys get the attention she shows you.”

  Jason shrugged, still unable to meet her eyes. He had it bad. “You never know.”

  “Don’t worry,” Rachel said. “I’m going to leave, just like we planned. If it weren’t for my parents . . . and the prophecy . . . but there’s no point in thinking that way. I’m feeling better again. The anxiety comes and goes.”

  “It’ll be strange without you,” Jason said. “I’ll be the last Beyonder.”

  “Except for the lurkers,” Rachel co
rrected.

  “I’ll have to stay tight with Corinne for that, if nothing else,” Jason said. “Even if Lurky Two does serve me, I don’t like it in my dreams. I prefer to have a translator.”

  Rachel smiled faintly. She had often talked to his lurker for him. The lurker could understand Jason just fine when he spoke. It could even read his thoughts if he gave mental commands. But Jason couldn’t hear acknowledgments or responses. He’d be all right. He had Corinne to help, and Galloran if needed. The king managed his three torivor bodyguards just fine. Without telepathy Farfalee and Jasher communicated well enough with their indentured lurker, getting help from Elaine as needed.

  Everyone would be fine. With Trensicourt leading the way, Lyrian was becoming more prosperous and stable every day. Her friends would be safe. “I’ll miss you.”

  “Give it some time. Eventually this will all seem like a weird dream.”

  Rachel shook her head. “I don’t think so. Too much has happened.”

  “You’ll deliver my letter?”

  “And the jewels. And I’ll develop the photos.” She was returning with lots of photographic evidence. Most of the shots had been taken after the war. It was hard to take pictures while running for your life. She would keep most of the images private, but some photos would accompany Jason’s letter.

  “I’ll miss you too, Rachel,” Jason said gently.

  Tears brimmed in her eyes. She looked down. “I’m doing this all wrong. I should never have allowed the rest of you to see me off. I should have gone through alone.”

  Jason pulled her to her feet and hugged her. She hugged him back. He was tall and strong. “We wouldn’t have let you.”

  Rachel held him tightly. Could they have ever become a couple? If they hadn’t known they would have to separate? Maybe. She certainly felt closer to Jason than to anyone. But it was pointless to think about. She was leaving. He was staying.

  “If I hate it there, maybe I’ll come back,” she said. “I read a lot about ways between our worlds. It was my main emphasis these past months. There is no guaranteed way, but there are many tricks I could try.”

  “Darian told us that one of us had to stay and one had to go,” Jason said. “He never said we had to go or stay forever.”

  Rachel nodded. “I’ll keep telling myself that maybe I’ll come back someday. That makes this more doable. I have to go. Not only because of the prophecy. I have to see my parents. I have to let them know I’m all right. I have to be with them again.”

  “I know. Listen, if you ever make it back here, you’re welcome to stay at my enormous castle.”

  She pushed away from him, giggling. “Are you ever serious?”

  “I’m serious! Caberton keeps getting better and better. I’ll even lend you some of my servants and share some of my gold and jewels.”

  “What if I come back and hundreds of years have passed?”

  “I’ll remember you in my will,” Jason assured her. “You’ll always have a home at Caberton. If anybody doubts you, just point at the monument.”

  Rachel smiled weakly. Even kidding around, it was hard to think about the monument. It had been completed shortly before she’d left Trensicourt for the last time. The great square near the castle had been renamed Hero Square. There she had been immortalized in stone, her statue more than twice her actual height. The craftsmanship was exceptional. The sculptors were the finest from across Lyrian, including several of the Amar Kabal.

  The statue of Rachel did not stand alone. Beside her were Galloran, Jason, Corinne, Farfalee, Jasher, Aram, Kerick, Halco, Andrus, Delissa, and Nollin. All of the delegation who had set out from the Seven Vales and lived.

  The dead from the delegation were represented on the other side of the square, including the drinlings who had joined them at Ebera. Io, Nia, Raz, Dorsio, Nedwin, Drake, Tark, and Ferrin were all rendered in lifelike detail. Ferrin held his smiling head in his hand. The sculptors had argued that it made his heritage as a displacer too obvious, but Galloran had insisted for that precise reason.

  Rachel loved that her friends had been memorialized there. She appreciated the plaques and fountains commemorating others who had fallen. She respected the sacred feeling the location inspired. But she could not look at her friends without sobbing. After the dedication she had only visited Hero Square twice more—once to take pictures and once to say good-bye.

  “Hey, don’t get like that,” Jason said, giving her a squeeze.

  “I’m all right,” Rachel said, realizing that her thoughts must have been written on her face.

  “Somewhere Ferrin is laughing his guts out that his statue stands in a place of honor.”

  “Drake, too,” Rachel said.

  “All of them, probably,” Jason realized. “I can’t imagine I’ll ever get used to that statue of me.”

  “Whatever. You know you like it.”

  “What?” Jason asked, unable to resist a smile. “Maybe a little.”

  Rachel chuckled quietly. “I’m really leaving.”

  “Looks that way.”

  “I’m taking some treasure home. The necklace from Drake, of course, but some other stuff as well. I’m not sure if I’ll ever try to explain any of it or cash in some of the gemstones, but I thought it would beat returning empty-handed.”

  “Good idea. You deserve some spoils after all you’ve done.” He nodded toward the opening of the tent. “They have food prepared. Everyone wants to see you.”

  “I know. I’ve been stalling. I’m ready now.”

  The feast was held in a huge pavilion. There were grand announcements celebrating all Rachel had done for Lyrian. There were cheers and applause. But mostly she enjoyed seeing her friends. Corinne, who got more beautiful every year. How could Jason possibly resist! And Galloran, who would never again need to blindfold his mismatched eyes. Aram’s lovely wife Brielle stood much taller than him, at least during the day. Rachel always found it strange to see the half giant dressed as a lord.

  The meal was delicious, the praise generous, the conversations delightful, but everything felt fleeting. This was the end, and Rachel could not forget it. Regret and excitement warred within her.

  The afternoon was waning when her closest friends escorted Rachel to the cave. They passed the guards and entered in silence. At one point they had to fall flat and slither forward. At last they came to a chamber where a clear pool hardly reflected the lamplight.

  Rachel leaned over the side. “Look how far you can see.”

  “It’s deep,” Jason told her. “And cold. You’ll sink until you think you might drown. But then you’ll emerge in a farmer’s field.”

  Thank you, Rachel, Galloran thought to her. Lyrian will forever be indebted.

  You deserve more thanks than anyone, Rachel conveyed earnestly. Without you, Lyrian would not have been saved, and I would not be going home. Trensicourt could not have a finer king.

  They embraced.

  “Are you talking in your minds again?” Jason complained.

  “Sorry,” Rachel said. “It won’t be a problem much longer.”

  “I don’t know what I’ll do without you,” Corinne said.

  “You’ll be beautiful, and wonderful, and so happy,” Rachel replied, embracing her friend. “I’m sorry for everything I’ll miss. I’ll think about you always.”

  She hugged and exchanged words with Farfalee and Jasher, Aram and Brielle, Elaine, Brin, and finally Jason.

  “Take care,” Rachel said. “Have a marvelous life.”

  “You too.”

  There was much more she could say, but it was already too painful. She turned to Brin. “You have weights for me?”

  Brin showed her a pair of iron weights at the edge of the pool with loops of rope attached to them. “Just hold tight and you’ll sink like an anchor.”

  Rachel smiled at everyone through her tears. “I’ll make sure your letter reaches your parents,” she promised Jason. “And those huge gems as well. I won’t mess up the photographs.”


  “Good-bye, Rachel,” Jason replied.

  Rachel checked the pair of nondescript satchels over her shoulders. Brin had waterproofed them. She grabbed the ropes connected to the weights, then nodded at Brin. “Toss them in.”

  Brin grabbed one weight; Jasher gripped the other. Both weights went into the pool, and Rachel went with them, letting their heaviness pull her forward and down. The water was shockingly cold, but she kept a tight grip on the ropes and sank rapidly. Rachel stared down into the darkness.

  Farewell, Corinne, she conveyed.

  Farewell, Rachel. The answer came faintly, as if from a mile away.

  Rachel realized that if she let go of the weights, she could swim back up. Or had she already sunk too far? Would she drown in the attempt?

  Can you still hear me? Rachel conveyed with all her might.

  She sensed no answer.

  Rachel tried not to panic as she ran out of air. Jason had warned it would be like this. She kept hold of the ropes, but it began to feel as if she was rising instead of sinking. Or maybe moving sideways. It was hard to stay oriented in the total darkness. The water seemed to be getting thicker, and it bothered her eyes enough that she closed them. Her speed seemed to increase. She collided with a yielding barrier, and suddenly she was on her back in a moonlit cornfield, spitting soil from her mouth as she gasped warm air into her starved lungs.

  The scene was just as Jason had described, except he had arrived during the day. How late was it?

  All her belongings had made it through with her. Standing, she tried to brush mud from her soaked dress with little success. She spoke words to extract the moisture. The Edomic command felt dead in her mouth. The water did not respond. She tried several commands. They all tasted like gibberish.

  She had known this would happen, but she had not been prepared for the reality of Edomic feeling and performing like nonsense. It was as if the law of gravity had ceased to function. It was comparable to amputation or paralysis.