An image began to take shape in my mind.
A vast white space. Slowly, through the mist, I began to pick out shapes and patterns. The slope of an archway, the geometric zigzag of steps. Was it a city? A palace of some kind? Figures moved like shadows against the blank white background, like the ghostly image that’s left on your eyelids when you close your eyes. I couldn’t tell if they were human—or something else.
My eyes still closed, my skin stippling with goose bumps, I watched as the mist faded away, and the shapes that had begun to materialize formed fully before my eyes. They weren’t the glistening arches and steps of a city somewhere in the sky, where I’d always imagined the Order to be. As I watched, I realized they were cliffs and rocks, looming above a wide, endless beach.
I trudged across a great expanse of black sand, the ocean tide lapping at the shore, as if calling my name, rising to meet me. It soaked the bottom of my dress, already smudged with sand, and washed away something dark and sticky that left behind the echoes of a deep red stain. Blood.
This was it. I’d seen this beach before in my visions. I’d carried a sword, wearing the very dress I was wearing now.
But this time was different. This time, when I moved, I was actually moving. When I spoke, my voice echoed out over the sea. Whatever I’m seeing, I’m already here.
I kept my eyes closed, focused on the beach around me. But I knew, on the other side of my eyelids, the entire group was watching me, waiting. The lights around us dimmed and glowed, the disco ball casting sparkles and shadows on the walls and glimmering across our faces and hair. The music played on.
“Are you guys ready?” I asked, and was met with a solemn chorus of agreement. “I see it, in front of me. Give me your hands. I’ll take us there.”
The events of my life had brought me to this moment—but my visions had, too. Because they foretold the event that was supposed to take place tonight, of all nights—the cataclysmic clashing of the celestial factions. Timed perfectly to coincide with prom. There was about to be a battle. Someone I loved was going to die.
With eyes still closed, someone took my left hand, and someone else my right one—completing the circle.
“Bye!” Earth’s voice rose above the music.
“Be safe!” Cassie called.
“Are you guys ready?” I asked. “Because we’re about to leave River Springs, and I can’t promise that we’re all going to make it back.”
When the mist cleared, we were standing on the beach, still holding hands. Asher, Ian, Raven, Devin, the three Rogues—and me.
The beach was deserted. The only sound was the lapping of the waves. Gray clouds hung low, blocking out the sun and allowing only the dimmest light to filter through. Black sand stretched out before us, as far as the eye could see. On one side of us, a massive, rocky cliffside towered up into the sky, so that I had to shield my eyes and squint to see the top. On the other side, the gray ocean churned, restless, coming in and out with the tide.
The wind whistled through the endless expanse.
“Where are we?” I asked Raven. “Is this the Order’s realm?”
“No,” said Raven slowly. “This is no place I’ve ever been.”
“It’s the Cradle of Time,” a voice boomed, echoing around us. We all looked up. I realized that the cliff face stretching out to our left wasn’t just a cliff face. It was an intricate maze of steps and arches, carved into the sea-ravaged, weather-beaten rock.
Standing in the center of each arch—and there must have been a hundred of them, carved into the side of the cliff—stood a Gifted One. They were easy to spot, older and grayer, with aged, yellowing wings. At the same time, each lit a single candle. Collectively, the flames cast an eerie glow over the beach.
Standing at the top of the cliff, I could just make out Astaroth.
“Time is born here and dies here. It passes and returns, like the tide of the ocean lapping at the sand beneath our feet. This place is where the Sight begins and ends. It’s where all destiny originates.”
“We’re in the Before Place,” said Raven, her voice breathy and full of awe. “Astaroth told me about this. It existed long before there was even an Order, or a Rebellion to break away from it. It’s where the first angel was born with the Sight. It’s the place where destiny began.”
“Very good, Raven,” Astaroth’s voice echoed down at us. “You were always my star pupil. I thought you were going to go far—not abandon me for some futile Uprising.”
“I didn’t abandon you, sir,” Raven said boldly. “By the ancient laws of the Order, I was no longer allowed to return home. So I found a new home.”
“And how is that working out for you?” Astaroth said mildly. “Your . . . new home.” I saw what he was doing—he was a master at manipulation, and he was trying to plant seeds of doubt in Raven’s mind. “Have they accepted you? Welcomed you into their fold with open arms?” He laughed ruthlessly. “Or were they more skeptical? Will they always think of you as a Guardian?”
In the distance, farther down the beach, I thought I could make out a body drawing closer. And another. And another.
“And Devin,” Astaroth continued. “My, how the mighty have fallen. From Guardian to Rebel to nothing.”
Devin lifted his chin defiantly.
A sea of dark figures materialized at the edge of the beach. Coming toward us. Or coming for us.
The Rebellion.
My group huddled together, achingly small compared to the two armies facing us down.
“We can’t control your powers, Skye,” Astaroth said. “And we haven’t been able to claim you for our own. Or, for that matter, kill you.”
“Nor have we,” a voice spoke up. Ardith was at the front of the group on the beach before us, a sword strapped to her back, her hair in a long, glossy chestnut braid. Gideon stood close to her side.
She drew the sword, at the ready. She and Asher made eye contact, and a storm of fury charged between them. He stepped closer to me. She barely even paused on Devin.
“Just tell me again,” I whispered to Asher, “what side you’re on.”
“Whatever side you’re on, Skye.” He squeezed my hand.
“You’ve had the opportunity to choose for yourself,” Astaroth said. “And we’ve all tried to choose for you—to force you to pick a side. But you are untamed. Unbound by the laws of the Order and the Rebellion. If neither side can kill you, and neither has claimed you, there’s only one thing left to do.” A sinister smile tugged the edges of his lips. “We’ll just have to fight for you.”
“I can fight for myself,” I said.
“We all know you can control your powers. But it’s when you are panicked, when you are under attack, that your control weakens. And powerful, unexpected things happen.”
He cocked his head at me.
“Do you know why you are here, Skye?”
I swallowed.
“No,” I said.
“If I may,” he said, taking a candle from one of his Gifted, “allow me to tell you a legend:
“It began with a vision. Many, many millennia ago. Before your parents were even conceived. Before they were born, fell in love, were cast to earth, and before you were created, their flesh and blood—and something else, some magical essence we still do not understand. Nor do I think we ever will.” The candles that the Gifted held aloft flickered, casting light across the Rebellion, below. “I was not the one who had this vision—though I was alive at the time. It was my father who saw it.”
I stepped forward. “What did he see?”
“Chaos,” Astaroth said. “Cities burning. Flooding. Death. The Order unable to control it, to stop it. Because the Order could not have seen it coming. For they had lost the ability to see along the lines of fate. They had lost the Sight. It was,” he said, “an End of Days.”