Thuraya woke gasping for air. Her shaking hands clenched the sheets, and sweat dampened her shirt. Her head didn’t hurt any longer, but there was a lingering wrongness to her. She was uncomfortable, too hot in her bed. The echoes of what she saw danced in her vision. The Peyrn she knew was not the one in her dream. Calling it a dream felt wrong. The woman’s, Neve’s, experiences felt too real, as if Thuraya had experienced it herself. Something within her told her that what she had seen was real, just that it wasn’t yet. 

She slipped out of bed and stood in front of her mirror. She poked at the bags under her eyes with a sigh. Irkala was going to comment on it. She couldn’t stand another second of him telling her to take better care of herself. She scoffed. Of course, she wanted to sleep. She hated the dark circles that discolored her skin. If only sleep wanted her.

A knock at the door had Thuraya calling, “I’ll be there in a minute!”

“I don’t have a minute, little asteris.”

Nilalan, the last god she wanted to see after a fitful slumber. “Yes, my apologies, I’m coming.”

She marched over to open the door for the god, opening it with less aggression than she felt. The floating cloud entered her house, little condensed pieces of their being falling behind them as they floated. They said, “I’ve come bearing insight.”

That couldn’t be good. Nilalan’s insight always boiled down to how worthless she was. The god detailing everything they would have to have molded her to be good. Or, they would mock, as good as a blight could be. 

“What have your eyes seen?”

“Everything. Nothing.” Despite being a cloud, they were good at being smug. She pressed her lips together tightly to rein back the nasty response that brewed.

“About me.”

“Too much. Too little.”

“I thought you said you didn’t have a minute. Stop playing games and tell me about your insight.”

“I’ll always have time to play games with you, dearest,” they snickered, “I’ve only come to tell you about your divinity.”

Her world froze, narrowed in on Nilalan’s words. They had seen her divinity. She couldn’t stop the relieved smile that stretched her lips, threatning to split her face. A divinity meant that she wasn’t as broken as she thought she was. She might be able to make Irkala proud. 

Nilalan’s pleasant tone chilled when they said, “I wouldn’t go around thinking you’ve been fixed. No, you’re divinity tells me that Irkala’s foolish actions have done more damage than even I could expect.”

“What do you mean?”

“You’re a seer.” The disgust that laced their words was hard for her to ignore. The dread that followed the words was even harder.

“Like you? We have the same ability?”

They spat, “Don’t be ridiculous! I see all of eternity; you only see the future.”

Despite their posturing, they couldn’t really see all of eternity. Simply because all of eternity hasn’t been written. They had explained to her that time was like a book where all the words were upside down and backwards and the pages were transparent so all the text from the past, present, and future were intermingled. New pages were added every time they looked away, and some pages weren’t written until after the event already happened. It was unreliable yet always true. Perhaps it was impossible for any being that has ever existed or will exist to read time perfectly, but Nilalan read it well enough that it might as well be called perfect.  

“I understand,” she replied, “Can I control it?”

“I had truly hoped Irkala had raised you to be better than a brainless fool, but my hopes were too high. Anything can be controlled,” they paused, “Except, you know, fate. Even I can’t control that, or see it for that matter.”

Fate, as she had been taught, was a collection of strings that connected the universe. Each string tied a person to the predetermined path that the Ethereal Mistress created for them. As far as they could tell, the only one to see the strings was the Mistress. She thought it was for the best. She didn’t want to imagine what someone like Nilalan could do with power like that. They were already powerful enough as is.

She lifted a hand to stall the headache that was starting to form. A hand condensed from Nilalan’s cloud, reaching out to gently press on her forehead. The headache dispersed under the touch. She gave the god a grateful smile, which was not met with the usual disdained snort. 

Their voice was soft, “The headaches might plague you for a little while longer, but they will go away once you settle into the ability. Come to me if you get one. I’ll remedy it.”

“That’s a relief. Thank you.” The casual compassion confused her more than their hatred. She knew they thought she was scum, yet they cared for her in their own way. She wished they didn’t. It would’ve been easier to hate them. 

“I would suggest you told your father about this new development as soon as possible. If you’re lucky, it might distract him from your ineptitudes.”

She grimaced, “I take it you heard about what happened yesterday.”

“I didn’t have to hear about it. I was waiting for the day with relish. The way you lost your temper was delightful!”

It was easy to forget their compassion after statements like those. “I’m glad I was able to entertain you.”

They turned to the door. “Speaking of your father, he will arrive in ten minutes. I’ll take my leave.”

“Don’t want to stay and chat?”

“No.” 

After that final word, they floated from her house. Their solidified remains a physical reminder of their presence. She sighed and grabbed a broom. Sweeping the droplets into a pile, she shoved it into the corner of her living room. The droplets would dissolve into nothingness with time. 

She flopped onto her floor, wishing she could melt into nothingness. She hid her face in her arms. Thoughts raced through her mind. She could see the future. Nilalan confirmed that her dream wasn’t a dream. Somewhere, sometime, there would be a woman named Neve. A woman that was destined to be a soldier.  What a damning thing fate could be. 

The floor was cool against her cheek. It was a relief from the warmth that toed the line of being uncomfortable. She laid there until her father arrived. Unlike Nilalan, Irkala didn’t knock. He walked right into the house, almost tripping over her.  

He scolded, “Why are lying on the floor? We could’ve gotten hurt!”

“Maybe if you knocked, it wouldn’t have been a problem,” she grumbled into the floor. 

“What was that?”

“I said that I’ll move.” She lifted herself from the floor to a chair. Irkala sat across from her. “Not that I mind, but why are you here?”

“I heard Nilalan came over.”

“You know what they were here about?”

“Yes,” he smiled, laying a proud hand on her knee, “Congratulations. Seers are special. Very special.”

“How long until the rest know?”

“I have no doubt the rumors have already begun.”

She studied the god before her. He fidgeted in his seat, not a common sight for her father. “Do you have a problem with me being a seer?”

He sighed, “It’s just that I fear Nilalan might be right.”

“About what?”

“That I’ve messed with something I shouldn’t have.”

She looked away, “What are you going to do about it?”

“I would never hurt you.”

“But?”

“Look at me.” Thuraya turned tired eyes Irkala’s direction. “There’s no but. There will never be a but.”

“Then, what?”

“I would never hurt you, but others may not be so inclined.”

“You think I’ll be targeted.”

“I know you will.” He rose to his feet, his hands clasping behind his back. “Some think you’ll bring too much unrest to the universe.”

“You mean Nilalan.”

Irkala shook his head, “Not just them. Eventually, the others will ask the divine progenitors to deal with the unrest.”

“Meaning me.”

“Meaning you. I don’t want it to get to that point, or my hand will be forced.”

She cocked her head, her eyebrows raising in her disbelief. “Didn’t you just say you would never hurt me? What do you mean your hand will be forced?”

“Like I said, I will never hurt you. Nilalan and Ujumas don’t have the same reservations.”

Shooting up from her seat, she accused, “You would watch them kill me!”

“Never!” Irkala dragged her to him by her shoulders. His eyes caught hers, imploring her to see the truth in them. “I would never let them kill you.”

“The way you’re talking makes it seem like you would.”

“I won’t let them kill you, but there are other methods to deal with you.”

“And what’re those?”

He released her. “It’s not my place to say.”

“Of course.” 

Her body trembled with anger. She would never be more important than Irkala’s place, and she felt resentment curdle her blood. She closed her eyes to gather her composure, but the world wasn’t the same when she opened them. Her eyes widened as billions of red strings filled her vision, and an inexplicable weight burdened her shoulders. They phased through the wall as if it wasn’t a physical object. Irkala had millions of string coming from him. Some that flowed from him straight to her. She raised a hand to poke at one, watching as it shuddered under her touch. 

She whispered, “This isn’t good.”

“What are you muttering about?” he asked.

She reached out once again and pulled on a string. This time, she was the one who shuddered. A moment of a man’s life flittered through her mind. He was picking flowers for a woman. His wife? She didn’t have enough time to tell. She removed her hand like the string’s touch burned her. It was foolish of her to touch fate so carelessly. She didn’t know what to do. Now that she could see them, she couldn’t pretend to not see it. 

Irkala said, “Thuraya? What are you looking at?”

“Nothing. I thought I saw something, but it was my imagination.”

“Are you sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure.”

He frowned, “You don’t look good. Did Nilalan say anything about you getting sick?”

“They said I would get headaches, but they would go away. Honestly, I feel fine.” 

She did feel fine, except for the increasing tightness of her chest. Glancing down, she saw that one of the strings was glowing gold. She frowned and grabbed it. Suddenly, her ears popped and her vision swam. She tilted her head to face her father. If Irkala was speaking, she didn’t hear it. The last thing she saw was his worried face.