“Why’s it changed color?”
“It’s been like this since you gave it to me,” Siora says. “Quinn’s too.”
Taras frowns, then peers at the pendant closer. “You were born in Death’s realm?”
Siora nods.
“An otherworldly realm.” He makes a deep noise in his throat. “Seer pendants absorb energies from the world around, just as they take on part of their wearer’s soul with each Seer who owns it.” He points at Siora’s pendant. “Death’s realm must’ve had that effect on it. But child.” He turns to me, his eyes wide, watery. “You’re a time-weaver. You must be. To send people back like that… Of course. Seer powers revolve around visions of the future, preventing futures, the many different futures. It makes sense that the future can speak to the past. Great Divine Ones, this is incredible.” He turns back to Siora. “The time-jump earlier. We went back a week. That’s because of this, isn’t it?”
Siora nods. She glances at me, seems uncertain. “You said it happens because of the instability of this world. Sending us back in time wasn’t a clean thing to do. It’s messy. You limited it, but you said it causes ripples for you—your younger self—and the Untamed you’re with.”
I said? All this stuff I’ve said? Then I frown. “Ripples? Plural? More time-jumps? When?” I look at her sharply, then hand her pendant back.
“I can’t tell you when the next ones will be or if they have already occurred.”
“So, right now, there may be more than two versions of us in this world—if the other versions overlap with this time?” Taras pulls on his chin.
Multiple versions? The pit of my stomach feels slimy, and I think of the clones the Enhanced Ones have made of so many of us. But no—that’s different. These other versions of ourselves are still Untamed.
And they’re not really versions, are they? They are us.
I shake my head. “But look. Don’t you see, Taras? Raleigh wasn’t lying—and it’s them next, Siora and Quinn. I’m not letting this happen. Not to them. I need to find him. I need to stop him.”
“Raleigh?” Siora’s voice wobbles. “Stop him from doing what?”
I look at her, and I wonder if she really knows or just knows she has to say it? “From binding your death to his. But don’t worry. That’s not happening.”
Her eyes widen. I don’t like that I don’t know if it’s genuine. But how much would she need to know in advance? Are conversations like this completely set in stone, and she needs to know everything, every word, or are there just certain markers they need to keep the same for the rest of it to be the same?
“Wow, you care about us so much.” Quinn’s voice drips with sarcasm.
I turn, see her lurking. My chest tightens. How long has she been there? How didn’t I notice. I blink hard.
Taras glances at her, then looks back at Siora. “No,” he says. “You two are safe. Seer magic like that cannot be done from afar. I believe he set the seeds for his work with Corin at Nbutai.”
“But Raleigh’s already had them imprisoned,” I point out. Then I frown. “Has he got you two now? Are your earlier selves imprisoned now?”
“I believe it is tomorrow he captures us,” Quinn says. “He was—will be—very interested in us.” She frowns.
“Being far away now won’t stop him,” I say.
“But he has only just decided to bond them,” Taras says. “That is what you said.”
I exhale hard. “He may have already set it up.” I shake my head, then I’m looking at them. They haven’t got red markers. Not like Corin. But did Corin have those right away—or just when Raleigh had started grating on his life-strings? I don’t know.
“Look, we are safe from him, Seven.” Taras clears his throat. “Raleigh hasn’t already marked Siora and Quinn—we would sense it if he had—and the time-jump means we’re hidden.”
“You would know?” Quinn asks. “If he had?”
Taras nods.
“We’re not in control of the time-jumps though,” I point out. “It’s a side effect. We can’t guarantee safety. What if the world rights itself and Raleigh finds us?” I look to Siora. “Are we going to leap forward, in time?”
“You can’t know any more than what you do at this point, what you told us we should tell you,” Quinn says, before Siora has a chance to answer.
I look at Taras. “Okay. Well, if that happens, he could come here to get them. Compromise them that way. Could happen at any time.”
“But he won’t get in. The spirits won’t let him.”
“We don’t know that.” I’m breathing hard. “What about kavalahs? They can be bribed to do anything.”
“He won’t risk weakening himself by feeding a spirit.”
“Then he’ll get someone else to feed them on his behalf.” I shake my head. “Taras, I’m not sitting back and waiting to see what method he comes up with. Because he will find something—if he hasn’t already.” I pause as the realization hits me. “He’s got my powers—the spirit-control! And we don’t know which other ones, what abilities he may master at any time. He could even do it from afar. No, I’m stopping him now.”
“How?”
“I don’t know yet.” I glare at him, feel more and more irritated. Why isn’t he helping?
I swipe at my arms. It’s too hot here.
“We should get Corin,” Taras says. “He needs to be part of the plan.”
“No.” I shout the word with a little too much strength, and Taras stares at me. “He doesn’t know about Siora and Quinn.”
I squint. The sun’s so bright now.
“He does not know?” Taras’s voice shakes. “Child, something like this cannot be kept from him. They are his children too.”
“Look, you didn’t believe me about them until you saw the vision. Corin won’t believe—”
“She can show him the vision too,” Taras says.
“He wouldn’t allow it. He hates Seer powers and everything to do with them.”
“Yet he’s with you?” Quinn raises her eyebrows.
“Look, he can’t know. There’s got to be another way to solve this. To keep you two safe, without getting Corin involved or me killing Raleigh.” I look around, shield my eyes from the sun.
Then my eyes widen, and I let in the sunlight. More and more. So much of it, until it hurts my head.
“Power transference,” I say. I blink. My eyes, pain. Bleary shapes in front of me. Taras and Quinn and Siora. “It can work the other way. I can take his power—the one he used to bind Corin to him.”
“That did not work before—”
“No—because I was trying to take the actual red marks, to undo it. But this would be digging deeper. This would remove the root of the problem. Not just what’s above ground, the effects of it.”
I blink.
“No,” Taras says. “You already have a power-transference channel opened between the two of you. You are lucky that your last body-share with him didn’t lose you more powers. Not to mention your Seer instability. Taking another Seer’s powers could harm you greatly.”
“But the channel’s already there, and I didn’t lose more powers last time. I just have to slip into his body, wait for him to summon his powers and then remove that one. I’m sure I can do it.”
I feel it. A Seer inside me stirring, and then whispering, saying she’ll help me.
“You could remove all of Raleigh’s powers,” Quinn says. “Make it even easier to beat him.”
My eyes shine—and I don’t know how I know they are, but I can feel it.
Yes.
Why didn’t I think of that?
If I strip Raleigh back, take away all his Seer powers—not just the ones I gave him—then he can’t win.
Taras throws his hands up. “No. This is too dangerous. As your guide, I have to stop you.”
“Guide?” I exclaim. “Stop me? Taras, you can’t stop me from doing anything. You don’t control me.”
His eyes burn. “You’re not t
hinking logically. You’re letting emotion drive you.”
“Oh, and emotion’s bad, is it?”
He groans.
“I’m doing this,” I say. I’ve never felt so certain of something my whole life.
Because this is it. It won’t just save Siora and Quinn and Corin, it will save us all. If Raleigh’s not a Seer, he can’t fight me, he can’t control me. He’ll be easy to kill.
This will make sure my people survive.
This will win us the war.
“Nothing I say is going to stop you, is it?” Taras asks.
I shake my head.
“Then, at the very least, you must practice. Remove someone else’s Seer powers first. Ask them what it feels like. Learn everything about it. And practice until the Seer says they can’t feel you removing their powers. You’ll only have one shot at this with Raleigh. You cannot mess it up.”
“No,” Elf says. “Absolutely not.”
“As the weakest Seer, it makes sense for Seven to start with you,” Taras says.
Elf shakes his head. There’s a slight breeze, and it ruffles his hair. “I need my powers.”
“What for? We are safe here. Seven’s the one who’s going to win the war. Other Seers are surplus.”
“Then she can start with you,” Elf says, glaring at us. “Any of you.”
Siora and Quinn look at each other. Quinn shakes her head.
I take a deep breath and look around, at the trees, the earthy ground. Elf was just about to go into the forest, foraging, when we found him.
I’m raring to get started—we’re working against the clock. How long before Raleigh targets Siora and Quinn? But I can see the sense in what Taras said—I will only get one shot, and I need to be sure it works.
“Please, Elf. It’s not just because you’re the weakest that I want to start with you.” I rub the back of my neck. “You have powers over the spirits, you summoned them, before. It’s possible you can control them too. And I’ve lost my spirit-control. I need it back.”
“Then get it back from Raleigh.”
“That is the goal.” I lean forward. “But I may only be able to take one power of his before he notices. And that has to be the binding power. To save Corin, Siora, and Quinn.”
Elf makes a noise deep in the back of his throat, then folds his arms. “They’re really your daughters?”
I nod.
“But if you take my spirit-summoning power, it will still be my power. Even if you can then summon them, it doesn’t mean you’ll be able to control them with it. And the augury says you’ll win the war with your powers—because they’re the strongest.”
I shrug. “Maybe it will become my power, adapt to what I need it for. And, I mean, most of my power is from the Sarrs before me. And that’s mine now, for me to use, so I should be able to use yours too.”
“Or maybe it won’t be the final power she uses to win the war,” Siora suggests. “Maybe your spirit-summoning power will set the scene, make it easier.”
“Please, Elf?” I look into his eyes, right into them. See the things going on inside: the hesitation, reluctance. “Please?”
He looks down at the ground for a long time.
The wind whistles, and I look up, see the spirit roof above us. Hundreds of eyes watching.
“Fine.” Elf lifts his head. “But only that power, okay? I keep the rest. You’ll have to practice on the other Seers around here.” He eyes Taras, Siora, and Quinn—and not in a kind way.
My chest lightens as if a load has been lifted. “Thank you.”
I breathe out, amazed at how much calmer I feel. Like a fog has been lifted. A fog that’s been strangling me since I learnt what Raleigh was planning—and looking back, that whole time since, the last hour, it’s like I was in a frenzy, operating too fast, like time had sped up and there were so many things I had to do.
But now I’m operating at normal speed again.
So is the world.
Taras directs Elf to lie down.
“On the ground?” Elf raises his eyebrows. “There are beds inside.”
“Marta’s stories suggest Seer powers are stronger when used outside,” Taras says. “When the person is grounded in nature. I do not know how much truth lies in that belief, but now is not the time to question it.”
“This isn’t exactly the heart of nature,” Elf mutters. “We’re by the power generator.” He points at the half-fallen-down barn nearby, where the machine is. But he lies down, and I’m relieved.
“Seven, you too,” Taras says.
I look toward Siora and Quinn. “If Corin comes out here, don’t tell him what we’re doing.”
Siora nods. Quinn snorts.
I look back at Taras and Elf. “Remember, Corin can’t know who Siora and Quinn are. You can’t tell him.”
They both nod.
Elf stares at me for a moment, and I can’t read him. It makes me nervous.
The ground is hard and uneven, and I never realized just how bumpy it is until I lie down.
“Lie on your sides and face each other. Maintaining eye contact may help,” Taras says.
I roll onto my side, look at Elf. He’s a foot away.
“Seven, if I feel this is, in any way, endangering Elf, then I’m going to intervene and stop the process.”
Elf doesn’t hide the relief that washes over him.
“Okay.” I shift my weight a little, so a stony bit of the ground isn’t digging into my hip quite so hard. “What next?”
“That’s for you to work out.” Taras maneuvers himself onto the ground—with difficulty. His breathing deepens. “You know Untamed minds and Seer powers better than anyone.”
Right.
The two girls remain standing—their shadows fall over us—and I concentrate on Elf, open my powers up to his.
His mind is like Taras’s: layers and layers, tightly wrapped in the golden threads of his life.
I stare at the threads, feel the power I have. It would be so easy to unravel the threads.
So easy.
No.
I jolt myself free of the idea, feel shock. Why the hell was I thinking that? This is Elf.
I take a deep breath. I need to do this. I need to save Siora and Quinn. It’s crazy, the connection I feel with them. Because I know it’s them. I feel it. Yet I still don’t feel like their mother.
“Draw on your powers,” I whisper to Elf. I’m staring into his eyes, but only vaguely aware of it—of his dark, Untamed eyes staring back at me.
The layers unravel, but they unravel in a new way, one not supported by my vision. A way only I can feel.
I reach out to him with my own powers, my senses. Power blooms inside me, guides me. At first, I try to keep up with the cadence, the calling inside me, how it releases energy as it seeks what I need. But then I let it guide me, carry me along.
A swarm of color that I both see and hear unfurls, lithe and supple. I think of the spirits, picture how Elf called them to him at Nbutai. Then I think how he tried later—how we both did—and he didn’t manage it. Oh Gods, what if it was just a coincidence before?
No, a voice whispers. It wasn’t. He has the power.
The Sarr inside me. The one who said she’d help me.
A small strand of crimson smoke drifts forward from Elf’s soul.
I reach out, ready to enclose it in my powers. Ready to pull it toward me. My power touches it.
Elf’s breathing quickens.
I switch back to my vision, my eyes, and see his are wide, pupils barely there. He’s pale, trembles a little.
He nods at me. “It’s all right.” But his voice is strained.
I concentrate on the crimson smoke, feel my heart rate rising.
Slowly, the Sarr whispers.
This is it. I know I’m right, doing it correctly.
Cool air wraps around me, the smoke, pulls us together. I taste it, feel it, hear it, smell it, see it. It is everything, just for a moment, as I curl my powers around it, anch
or it, follow my mother’s whisperings.
Elf gasps.
I bolt up and—
I’ve done it. I’ve got it.
Euphoria breaks through me. The power, I’ve got it.
I look up at the sky, point at the spirits, give my commands silently. The powers inside me rise—feel different, unsettled, as they find the new balance, as they absorb the newcomer, use their own power to change it, meld it into something I can use, make it part of the power in the Sarr gateway—before the new one surges forward, different now, fueled with the energy of the Sarr bank.
The spirits part slightly, reveal a circle of unmarred blue sky above—exactly as I commanded.
My chest swells with pride.
Yes. Elf’s power is enough to control spirits, not just summon them. Of course, summoning is a form of control. I smile. That was easy. I barely had to concentrate. And now—now it’s my power.
I turn back to the others.
Elf sits up, looks a bit queasy.
“Was it obvious?” I ask. “That I was there?”
“It hurt like hell,” he says through gritted teeth. “Raleigh’s definitely going to notice you doing that. You’re not exactly quick either.”
My euphoria stumbles.
“It’s okay,” Siora says, placing her hand on my shoulder. “You’re going to practice.”
It’s amazing how much stronger my transplanting power gets as I practice, as if I’m feeding it, nurturing it. Muscles have to be used to get stronger, and my Seer powers are no different—especially given the power within me increasing. Taras, Siora, and Quinn—though she’s reluctant and trembles a lot—take turns. Elf even lets me practice on him again. Some powers are harder to lift and transplant than others, but with each one I get, the Sarr legacy rises up, absorbs it, claims it, changes it, so it becomes part of the Sarr bank.
In the middle of my fourth practice on Siora—surprisingly, she’s holding up to it better than any of the others—Taras stops me, uses his own Seer powers to reach me, to tell me I need to come back.
I return in an instant. Siora—I’ve hurt her?
But she’s staring at me, looking confused. She doesn’t look hurt. Her soul tells me she isn’t.
“What?” I turn to Taras, blinking. The light’s much darker now, late evening.
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