He closed his eyes and looked down the shining river of all the possible futures. It only took a second to find the one he’d marked: a particularly bloody future where Bethesda decided to kill her way into one of the European clans instead of laying eggs to create her own. That was definitely not a twist of fate Brohomir wanted to suffer through, so he happily ripped it out, plucking the silvery line from the weave of possibilities with a deft mental hand. When it was free, he held it out, waving the future through the dark like a lure in front of him.
It wasn’t a sure thing, but Brohomir had chosen this night very carefully. He’d scoured his futures to find the time, the place, even the exact right spot on the beach that had the highest chance of success. He’d stacked his odds as high as they would go, but it still felt as if he’d been waving forever before something finally turned to look.
He didn’t know how he knew. The emptiness here was different from any he’d ever experienced. He couldn’t see, couldn’t feel, couldn’t sense in any of the usual ways, but he didn’t need to. It was impossible to miss something that huge coming toward him, its tendrils reaching out greedily to pluck the dangling thread of possibility from his fingers.
The moment the future left Brohomir’s control, it vanished. Not just that one thread, but all the choices and coincidences that had led up to it. An entire line of possibilities simply ceased to be as the thing in the dark nudged him, forcing a question into his consciousness, though not in words. This was merely an impression of exchange, a request to know what Brohomir wished in return for the future he’d given.
“I want you to listen to me.”
Just like before, there was no sound. The words were only in his head, but the thing in the dark turned, its presence growing larger still, as if it were moving closer. There was still nothing to see, but the bigger it got, the more distinctly Brohomir could feel it looming around him, a creature the size of eternity with a body made of cold, dead chains.
“I know you,” he said as the chains settled around him. “You are the Nameless End that devoured our old world, the one the ancient dragons called the Final Future.”
The darkness surrounding him roiled in fury. How dare he name her? She was what remained when all possible futures were gone. She had no name, no constraints! Only endless hunger, and Brohomir was a tasty beast of many futures. She remembered the dragons he spoke of. Those fools had traded her their entire plane in return for temporary victories, feeding their own end. The memory soothed the Nameless End’s anger, and she eased closer to Brohomir. Maybe this one would be foolish too?
“I’m often foolish,” Brohomir replied with a smile. “But I’m not here to offer myself as sacrifice. I’m here to make you a deal.”
The Nameless End’s chains rattled eagerly. A future?
“Everyone gives you futures,” Brohomir said dismissively. “I’ve brought you something infinitely better.”
Impossible. What could be better than a future?
Brohomir placed a hand against his chest. “Me.”
The Nameless End’s confusion flooded through him. What would she want with something like him? He was tiny and finite, insignificant. If he hadn’t been her only source of food for millennia, she wouldn’t have bothered focusing her attention finely enough to speak with him. The chains crept closer, prodding Brohomir’s mind with their terrifyingly final-feeling tips. Maybe he was delusional?
“I prefer imaginative,” Brohomir replied, flashing her his most charming smile. “It’s true that I am nothing compared to a power like you, but gifts are not valued by size alone. You’ve eaten the futures of countless planes, including my old homeland. But in all those timelines, all those lives you’ve vicariously experienced, there’s one thing you’ve never had.”
The thing in the dark was growing annoyed with the cocky dragon. She was the end, the one path that remained when every other possibility was spent. All of time would eventually belong to her. What could he possibly have that she did not?
“A life of my own.”
The Nameless End turned away, but the dragon wasn’t finished. “It’s true you’ll eventually own all futures,” he said quickly. “But only after they’re done. The only timelines you get are ones where there are no surprises left, no uncertainty, no tension or wonder. Just the wrapped-up life stories of beings who mean nothing to you where every crisis is already resolved and every end is already known.” He shook his head. “That has to be amazingly boring.”
The Nameless End did not get bored. She was what she was.
“Ah,” Brohomir said. “But have you ever tried being something else?”
What a stupid question. What else could she be?
The dragon grinned. “Mine.”
The Nameless End paused.
“This place is a nothing,” Brohomir went on, looking around blindly in the dark. “Everything here is already dead and done, assuming it ever was, but my world is still in motion. There are still surprises there, things yet unknown. I can share them with you.”
The chains curled in interest. How?
“Come with me,” the dragon said, putting out his hand. “Come back to my plane as my consort and ally, and I will give you a front row seat to the most marvelous show you’ve ever seen. Something more spectacular than all the other eternities you’ve eaten, because unlike those stale, dead histories, my story is alive. The future I’m offering you is still being written. It might end in tragedy, but we won’t know until we get there, because until the present becomes the past, anything is still possible. That’s what I have that you do not, and it’s what I want to share with you.”
Brohomir stretched his hand out further. “Be surprised with me,” he beckoned. “Everyone else trades you futures they don’t want in exchange for sure bets, but I’m offering to share my present, which is still infinitely possible, and thus infinitely better. So leave this dull emptiness and run away with me. Come and live all the things you’ve only seen in other people’s finished stories, and when it’s over, you’ll have had something that no one else has ever cared enough to give you: a life of your own.”
He was panting by the time he finished, his lungs gasping for the air he knew had to be still rushing through the portal behind him even if he couldn’t feel it. He wasn’t sure how much time he had left, but he didn’t dare look back at Amelia. Even if he couldn’t see it, his eyes stayed locked on the place in front of him where he could feel the Nameless End watching in wonder.
No one had ever offered her anything like this before.
“I’m an out-of-the-box thinker,” Brohomir said proudly. “Anyone can give up a future, but there’s only one present, and I’m offering to share mine with you. I can’t promise it will always be pleasant, but it’ll never be boring, and so long as I live, you will never be alone.”