Weeks later, the sisters’ parents died in a Skytrain crash the likes of which the country of Vallinger hadn’t seen in decades. After losing the only people she really trusted, Rona was expected to turn into an instant adult and care for herself and her sister. She barely managed it.
A few years later, Rona met Kizha. For the first time in years, maybe for the first time ever, Rona felt alive. She didn’t tell Ellin about her new friend. What would a girl with a normal life think of her pathetic big sister’s flexscreen-based socializing? Rona and Kizha quickly became close, and in a moment of weakness, Rona revealed her gift. Kizha hadn’t given her any reason to regret it.
Like Rona, Kizha worked from home, and she, too, had a secret. She was a talented hacker. Countless times over the last few years, she’d helped Rona act on her prophecies. Kizha had hacked into emergency response systems, sending out warnings for earthquakes and tsunamis before scientists could predict them. And several corrupt politicians had been outed, thanks to Rona’s visions, Kizha’s not-quite-legal research, and a few well-placed messages to the press.
Rona’s flex vibrated again, and she read Kizha’s message.
Sorry, I had to answer a call. Can you tell me about the vision?
Pressing her lips together, Rona considered the question. A spike of pain entered her brain.
“Oh no,” she murmured. A certain full sensation in her head often signaled an oncoming vision, but when she was in a severe PVS, that fullness turned into outright pain.
The sensation intensified. Rona fell backward. Her head struck the pillow, and she closed her eyes as a deep groan emerged from her chest.
A vision entered her mind. It started out dark and blurry but soon clarified into the image of a person. Her first feeling was relief—not only because the pain was subsiding, as it often did once a vision got started, but also because the person was moving. She’d seen enough dead people to last her a good, long while.
Then she recognized the person. Black, curly, shoulder-length hair. Stunning, bright-green eyes.
Kizha.
Oh no. After her earlier vision, the last thing she wanted was a prophecy about someone she knew. Please, God, make this a good one.
In the vision, Kizha wore a blue, short-sleeved shirt and black leggings. She was lying on her bed, propped up by a mound of pillows, typing on her flex. Rona’s perspective shifted so she could see the screen of Kizha’s device. She’d typed an em to Rona reading,
Of course, I’ll help you however I can. I hope everything’s okay. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?
Rona’s response soon popped up on Kizha’s screen.
I wish I could. I’ll let you know soon what I need.
The vision didn’t fade out like it had faded in. Instead, it ended in an instant, replaced by blackness. That meant more was coming.
The same scene popped back into existence in Rona’s mind. This time, however, Kizha read something on her flex, and her eyes widened. She continued to stare at the screen, and one smooth, tan hand came up to cover her open mouth.
Again, Rona’s perspective shifted. On Kizha’s screen was an em from Rona, describing her apocalyptic prophecy.
Rona watched as Kizha’s fingers danced across her device. A few seconds later, Rona’s face appeared on the screen. She was sitting on her bed, wearing the same comfy pajamas she was in now, backed by the same old, green headboard with its chipped paint. She greeted Kizha, who interrupted her, asking, “Is this real, Rona? Is it immutable?”
“Yes and yes.” Her vision-self nodded, her short, brown hair quivering with the motion.
There was a long pause, and then Kizha said, “I’m coming there. If we don’t have much time left, I’m spending as much of it as I can with you.”
“Kizha, we’ve got to try to stop it.”
The vision zoomed out as Kizha stood and began pulling clothes out of drawers. Her wide eyes glanced back at the flex she’d left propped against her pillow. “We can’t stop it; you said it’s immutable.”
“It is. But something tells me Ellin’s supposed to try to stop it. We can help her.”
“I’ll help once I get there. I have to pack, Rona. I’ll call you when I’ve got a flight lined up.” Kizha reached over and pressed the corner of her flex, collapsing it.
The scene transitioned into another, then another. They were all flashes from the coming weeks, just a few seconds each time. Kizha and Rona finally meeting. Eating meals, taking walks. Eager lips and hands. Every flash was filled with joy and passion, colored with extra intensity from knowing how little time they had together.
Rona saw herself reminding Kizha they needed to help Ellin. Then she saw Kizha hushing her with a kiss. They were lost in each other, at last surrendering to feelings they’d stifled for years. Yes, they made some effort to save the world, but they were halfheartedly checking tasks off a list, knowing they’d never reach their goal.
The last scene, of Kizha holding Rona, faded gradually, signaling the vision’s end. Rona sat up, even more drained than before. Needing a drink of water, she reached over to her cluttered nightstand. All three cups sitting there were empty.
A string of ems from Kizha waited on her flex, all variations on Where did you go? and Everything okay? Rona wanted to answer, but first she had to process what she’d seen.
This vision wasn’t a sure thing, like the one from earlier that day. This one was a potential prophecy. She’d seen multiple ways things could happen, and she was free to choose whichever option she preferred.
Her fingers ached to type out her apocalyptic visions and share them with Kizha. Ever since seeing those terrible scenes, she’d been struggling with the disturbing, foreign sensation of holding back tears. She’d even lost control in front of Ellin.
Kizha was Rona’s one source of comfort. She knew from what she’d just seen that her friend wouldn’t just support her through the tragic knowledge she’d gained. Kizha would love her through it. That was something Rona had hardly dared hope for.
Her potential prophecy had made her options clear. She could follow her heart, telling Kizha the whole truth, and the two of them would live the final days of their lives in a haze of love. Sure, they’d support Ellin in her quest to prevent the terrible vision from coming true, but they’d reserve their true commitment for each other, not for a pointless crusade.
Or Rona could keep the knowledge to herself, and Kizha would be the same dependable friend she’d always been, helping from a distance.
Rona wanted to convince herself that she could have the best of both worlds. She and Kizha would spend time together, but they’d also help Ellin. They’d be both passionate and logical.
She knew how pointless such a dream was. Visions didn’t lie. After she settled on one of the options, she could only slightly shift the prophesied results. Even a small change required tremendous energy.
I can ignore Ellin, like I always have, while Kizha and I enjoy life for once. Or I can keep my best friend in the dark and use her for her talents.
“Seriously, God?” she murmured. “What kinds of options are those?”
Rona confronted God like this pretty often. She wasn’t sure who he was, or even why most people called him he. All she knew for certain was that there was a reality beyond the physical—call it spiritual, metaphysical, or magical. Whatever it was, she experienced it every time she had a vision.
The seers of the past had often attributed their powers to God. By following that tradition, Rona felt connected not only to the mysterious deity, but also to the long-dead men and women who had understood what it was like to be blessed—or tortured—by this strange gift. So Rona prayed, especially when her visions left her grieved or uncertain. Sometimes she even thought God answered her.
This time, however, the only person attempting to communicate with her was Kizha, whose ems were still lighting up her flex. The most recent one said,
Hello? Anybody home?
“This doesn’t
make sense.” Rona spoke calmly, like she was bringing an argument to a judge. “It’s pointless to try to stop an immutable prophecy.” Was she seriously considering giving up her last chance for happiness, all so she could help Ellin on her meaningless quest to defy a vision set in stone?
The problem was, Rona didn’t just get visions. She also got nudges. (Historians called them premonitions, but nudges felt right to her.) A nudge was a revelation of some sort—undeniable, but without the detail of a prophecy.
The moment she’d written THE END, Rona had known, deep in her gut, that Ellin was meant to try to prevent the end of the world, with her big sister’s help.
It made no sense.
And it was unquestionably the right way to go.
Rereading Kizha’s ems, another nudge hit her. She and Ellin couldn’t take the path before them, whatever it was, without Kizha’s assistance.
Rona swallowed hard, squeezing her hands into fists so tight, her finger muscles ached.
Then she released her hands and her breath and picked up her flex. She typed,
Sorry, had another vision. I’m not ready to talk about what I saw, but I’m going to need your technological assistance in the coming days.
Kizha’s response popped up a few seconds later, but Rona didn’t even have to read it to know what it said.
Of course, I’ll help you however I can. I hope everything’s okay. Are you sure you don’t want to talk about it?
Rona could change the wording of the response she’d typed in the vision, but it wouldn’t alter the overall result. She allowed her fingers to type the words she’d seen.
I wish I could. I’ll let you know soon what I need.
They chatted for a while, but Rona was too distracted to keep up much of a conversation. After they said goodbye, she covered her face with her hands and wept.
3
WEDNESDAY, QUARI 3, 6293
Trett’s door opened. Moisture glistened off his short, brown hair, and he had on a navy blue, short-sleeved undershirt. He’d probably just gotten out of the shower after going for a run. His porch camera must have picked up Ellin’s panicked expression, because his brown eyes were wide with concern, and his dimpled smile was absent.
Before he could say a word, Ellin asked, “Are your parents here?” She couldn’t bear to be around anyone else right now.
“No, of course not, they’re at work.” Trett took her hand. “What’s wrong?”
With no warning, sobs burst from her chest.
Trett gaped at her, then led her inside. He brought her to the living room, but Ellin shook her head and spoke through her tears. “Back yard.” She still needed fresh air.
Trett grabbed a light-brown, long-sleeved shirt and pulled it on as they walked through the rest of the house. When they stepped onto the back patio, Trett’s pet caynin loped up to them, his mouth hanging open in what almost looked like a smile. The animal nudged Trett’s thigh with a squat snout, above which two round, maroon-colored compound eyes bulged with excitement, sunlight glinting off their facets. “Not now, Gray,” Trett said. The sail-like ears on either side of the animal’s face drooped, and he lay down next to Trett’s feet.
Trett held his arms out, and Ellin fell into them, crying into his firm shoulder. He held her tightly, rubbing her back. When her tears stopped several minutes later, he murmured in her ear, “Ready to talk?”
Ellin pulled back, sniffling. She patted his shirt, which was wet with her tears. “Sorry about that. Do you have a handkerchief?”
“I’ll grab one. Or, actually—” He grinned and pulled off his outer shirt, then sat and offered it to Ellin. “You might as well keep on using this.”
Ellin laughed, which felt incredibly inappropriate at such a time but was just what she needed. She wasn’t sure if Trett was serious, but she took him at his word and blew her nose on the shirt in her hands.
Still smiling, Trett pointed at his undershirt. “I have another if you need it.” His expression sobered as he watched Ellin twist the shirt she was holding. He led her to a bench, and they sat. “Can you tell me what’s going on?”
Gray had followed them to the bench, and he nudged Ellin’s thigh with his rounded snout. Ellin set Trett’s shirt aside and rubbed the mottled, gray-and-black fur between the animal’s big ears. His forked tongue darted out of his mouth and licked her forearm. Usually, Gray’s antics would have made her laugh, but not today. She murmured, “Down, Gray,” and the caynin lay in front of the bench.
Ellin turned to Trett and swallowed, her throat suddenly tight. It was a few seconds before she was ready to speak, and then the words came out as a croak. “The world is ending.” She pulled the calendar out of her pocket. “This will tell us when.”
Trett’s forehead wrinkled as his eyes widened. He stared at Ellin, his mouth opening and closing three times before he finally asked, “What . . . does that mean?”
“Rona had a vision. She said almost everyone is going to die. All over the world.” Tears filled Ellin’s eyes again.
“Almost . . . everyone?”
Ellin nodded slowly, then repeated everything Rona had told her. Trett wasn’t supposed to know about Rona’s gift, but Ellin had brought him in on the secret three years earlier, soon after they’d started dating. Since then, she’d shared dozens of Rona’s visions with him. It took a lot to phase Trett, but his eyes remained wide and his mouth hung open as Ellin finished describing what her sister had seen.
Ellin held up the calendar. “Rona wrote THE END on the day it’s supposed to happen. I was going to check the date when she left the room, but”—she let out a sharp sigh and shook her head—“I couldn’t do it alone.”
That jolted Trett out of his stupor. He took Ellin’s hand. “Let’s look at it together.” His expression shifted into an awkward grimace that was probably supposed to be a comforting smile. Ellin had never seen him so bewildered.
She nodded and opened the calendar. First, she flipped to the current month, Quari. A few reminders were written on the squares. She turned to the next page, which was blank, then the next.
There it was: THE END, written on the sixth day of Cygni. A seemingly ordinary Saturday.
Ellin tried to control her breathing as she flipped back through the pages and counted. “Nine-and-a-half weeks.”
“Sixty-six days,” Trett added, his voice low.
Ellin propped her forehead in one hand, letting her hair fall over her face. Trett rested his warm hand on her shoulder. After several seconds, Ellin lifted her head and locked eyes with him. “I’m going to do whatever I can to stop this from happening.”
Trett’s gaze didn’t budge. “Then I’ll do whatever I can to help you.”
Ellin took a deep breath through her nose before whispering, “It’s immutable.”
Trett blinked several times. His shoulders slumped, but his voice was strong. “You can do this. We can.”
Ellin flashed him a weak smile, then pulled up the left sleeve of her jacket. She peeled her flexscreen off her forearm and firmed it, then found Cygni 6th on her calendar.
She input a command, and the bottom half of the screen’s surface lifted into rows of letterkeys. On the proper calendar day, she typed the same words her sister had used: THE END. Eyes locked on the flex, she slowly shook her head, frowning at what she’d just typed.
As if he’d read her mind, Trett said, “THE END—I don’t like that. We’re stopping this thing, right?”
“Right.”
“Then we can’t say THE END. You’ve never accepted failure, Ellin. You’re gonna beat the odds like you always have.”
Ellin stared at the screen. “Nothing’s immutable.” She had to believe that, even though it went against everything she knew about prophecy. “Delete all,” she said, louder than she’d intended. Her trembling fingers found the letterkeys again, and she typed, DEADLINE.
She took a deep breath, released it, and looked up. Her stomach growled, breaking the tension, and she and Trett share
d a small smile.
“Do you want a sandwich?” he asked.
Such a strange question when they were considering the end of the world—but she couldn’t deny that she was famished. “Maybe it’ll help. I can make it. Do you want one too?”
“Stay here; I got it.” He stood, then looked down at her, eyebrows lifted in concern. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
His look told her he didn’t believe her, but he went inside.
Ellin buttoned her jacket. The sun would set soon, and it was getting chillier. She looked around the back yard. Trett’s parents spent ridiculous amounts of money to keep this place beautiful, though with their work schedules, they almost never had time to enjoy it.
In the center, a dragon-shaped fountain, breathing water instead of fire, fed a small pond. Trett was the one who’d purchased the dragon. He was obsessed with ancient myths that were thought to have originated on Earth, humanity’s home planet.
The fountain always made Ellin shudder. Unlike Anyarian animals, who had compound eyes, this dragon’s eyes looked almost human, with irises and elongated pupils.
Most scholars doubted that magical, fire-breathing creatures had ever existed. The stories had all the marks of outlandish myths. Ellin sometimes wondered, however, what real animals on Earth had looked like. Surely there hadn’t been beasts walking around with nearly-human eyes. That would’ve been way too weird.
Behind the pond were all sorts of plants and trees, bright with spring growth. They were all native to Anyari, with the exception of a pear tree in the corner. Ellin stood and walked to it, followed by Gray. White blossoms were scattered among the tree’s leaves, and she plucked one. She’d learned from experience that the blossoms smelled terrible, so she kept it away from her nose. She rubbed the soft petals between her fingers, thinking about the humans who’d carried these seeds from Earth to Anyari.
The Seer’s Sister: Prequel to The Magic Eaters Trilogy Page 2
