The emotions in the room were overpowering.
Sorrow that I had a hand in this weighed heavily. I wished I could have just shut up, backed down, left the room. I didn’t want to cause more pain for Miara or any of them. These were Ryder’s parents, his family, and I was forever going to damage their view of me, but this was no small thing. It was a man’s life, and I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if I knew I hadn’t done everything I could to stop this madness from plowing forward without thought or care.
The energy flow surging through me steadily grew in strength. It was dizzying. The mental door whispered open, briefly, in my mind again. The all-knowing, overwhelming energy that had come to me in the marketplace returned. In the same way I’d known the terrorists needed to be stopped, I knew that this moment in the timeline of Sunan was crucial. Feeling as though a sudden burst of freezing wind whipped my face, I saw the future unfold into two potential branches, all in a fraction of a second, in my mind’s eye. I gasped with the clarity of the vision.
One way would lead to bloodier warfare than either the Sunan or the Brausahad ever seen or could predict. They would both have access to Earth’s technology, and combining it with their own would lead to a war the likes of which could shake the very foundation of human sustainability. The shrieks of pain and terror from that reality had barely faded before I peered down the other possible path, which showed a cautious truce between the two peoples that had the potential to lead toward peace.
The Brausiian warrior was the key. He was of great importance to his people. To kill him would set in motion events the likes of which could destroy the fabric of both societies. The power of the vision left me breathing heavily, sweat breaking out on my brow and upper lip. What did this all mean?
As though no time had passed for him, Talon spoke to me. “We’ve experienced horrors the likes of which you will never understand, which is why we’ve had to develop a system that may seem harsh and unjust, but which keeps us alive.”
On a shaky note, I asked, “But at what expense? You’re just going to execute the man?”
“It’s the least of what he deserves,” Talon ground out.
“This will lead to war! I’ve seen it!”
Miara frowned at this.
“We welcome the opportunity to exterminate their pestilence for all time!” Talon shouted.
“You can’t! This is wrong!” My voice took on a shrill note. The door whispered closed after sharing the terrifying vision, leaving me tired and fragile. At a gut level, this was making me ill, and I turned away, holding a hand to my stomach to calm the roiling nausea, but the anger continued between Ryder and his father.
“We don’t allow outsiders to come to Sunan,” Talon intoned sharply. “There’s a reason for strict discipline and obedience. Things happen when we don’t meet expectations and rules of governance!”
Where had I heard that before, the talk about discipline and obedience? About rules and following them or something? I opened my mind and tried to peer into my memory, but I found myself inundated with the emotions swirling around us all—the rage, the sorrow and the deep familial love and loyalty that was leaving them all conflicted and confused.
“I needed to keep her safe.” Ryder confronted his father with anger that was vibrating off of him almost violently. Why such a strong reaction? Toward his father, no less? I didn’t sense that his father was a bad man, just hurt and confused, though he covered it up with his force of will.
“Why wouldn’t she be safe on Earth?”
“There were men trying to kill her.”
My mind was being tickled. Flashes of imagery—woodland with dappled sunlight—teased the fringes of my mind without allowing me to fully grasp their significance. When had I been kicking a ball through the woodlands, dodging trees? What was that?
“How does this become our responsibility?” Talon demanded of Ryder.
“Talon!” Miara said sharply.
“Because Ranik is trying to kill her, and he’s our responsibility.” Ryder’s teeth were clenched.
Don’t let this happen anymore, Taylor. Help them. I knew that sweet voice whispering desperately in my mind. Her energy was calling to me, needing me, pulling me so sharply that I couldn’t resist.
In the next moment, I was in the woodlands, sitting on a blanket with Asily, drawing a picture of her on canvas. I was using charcoal and could see that it was mostly done. When had I completed so much of it? Curiously, I asked, Why haven’t you gone to them? Let them see that you’re okay.
I can’t. They have to come to me. You can help them with that. This is your gift. You’ll grow into your power as you practice with it. You have to help them access the Gods’ plane. Not now, but soon. Promise me. When the time is right.
“Taylor!” I felt like I could hear Ryder’s voice from far, far away. He sounded frantic as he said, “Mom, I can’t feel her! Her energy signature is gone!” I looked around with concern, expecting to see him.
Why can’t he remember you? We were all together in the same dream.
Spirits can’t interact outside of the Gods’ plane, Tay. You’re going to have to help him remember this one.
Oh. So last night wasn’t just a regular dream.
Of course not, or you would have remembered it.
How will I remember this one?
I can help you, but you’re going to need to concentrate on this memory as you go back. Focus yourself.
Focus myself. Got it.
Now go back. Asily smiled sweetly, and just that quickly I felt my weight on my feet. I nearly stumbled from the unexpected pressure, but Ryder was grasping my arms.
“Dammit, Taylor! What happened?”
“I was on the Gods’ plane,” I breathed, blinking my eyes back into focus. The flood of dream detail, the horror and the bleak pain that continued to poison them all, played through my mind.
“What are you talking about?” Talon was clearly taken aback. “How would you know about that? Why were you brought here?” Just like that, his anger, now mixed with confusion, was directed toward me.
I realized this drama had nothing to do with me being here or my questioning of authority. This was a family still grieving over the tragic loss of their daughter. This horrible argument was a refusal to accept and grieve in a healthy, meaningful way, which meant they had never been able to move on and live freely. It was hurting all of them. Asily could see this, and she wanted to see them all heal.
The memory of Ryder’s young, grieving face shamefully confessing his guilt for something that was not his responsibility seared my heart. This was the root. Ryder, the child, was counting on me to protect him, and as I thought of his smooth-cheeked visage bowing his head in shame, my own anger bloomed over the injustice.
Though I tried to find a calm place in my mind, the punk in me was glaring daggers at Ryder’s father, wanting to bitch-slap him for turning his grief on a defenseless child. As it turned out, I didn’t have time.
The office door opened suddenly. A young man in black uniform entered swiftly, carrying a hand-size black felt bag, like a coin bag on a rope, something that could be worn around the neck.
“What is it?” Talon demanded, his voice cracking with the effort to regain control.
“Sorry to interrupt, Senior Representative, but there was a problem with the Brausiian prisoner.”