Silence fell again, harder this time. “Is that true?” Julius asked at last, looking up at his brother.
“It’s not a perfect solution,” Bob said, his confident smile slipping. “But what else was I supposed to do? I’ve spent my entire life looking down millions and millions of futures in my search for a way to beat Algonquin’s Leviathan, and every single one ended in death. My death, your death, the death of my family and friends. Everyone I knew or cared about, including me, had no future past this point unless I did something, so I did.” He looked up at the Black Reach. “I know I’m breaking your rules, but I’m doing it to save the future of the race you were created to protect. That has to count for something.”
The eldest seer shook his head. “Good intentions do not excuse the crime. Every seer I’ve ever killed thought they were doing what had to be done. You are no different.”
“But that’s ridiculous,” Bob argued. “I’m not Estella, trading my soul for petty vindictiveness. We’re talking about the end of the world. Our world, right now. The scale alone should—”
“No different,” the Black Reach repeated, pulling himself to his full impressive height. “Selling potential futures was how we destroyed the only true home our race has ever known. It does not matter if you are buying one life or millions, the mistakes of the past must not be repeated.”
“So you would let us die?” Bob snarled. “You would rather let Algonquin’s tantrum destroy us than bend on this one issue? Have you even looked at the future I chose?”
“I have,” the construct said. “And I can admit that it is good. Far better than I expected of you, to be honest. But a lovely prison is still a prison, and yours only saves dragons.”
“Dragons were all I could control,” Bob argued. “Even I couldn’t get my claws in the futures of the entire world.”
“But what are we without the world?” the Black Reach asked. “In your future, we survive, as does Amelia as our spirit, but everything else gets eaten down to the bedrock. Humans, spirits, plants, animals, they’re all gone. We’ll be stranded in a wasteland no bigger than what remains of the dragons’ old home without even the free will to choose how we will rebuild.” He bared his teeth. “Can such a future really be considered better than death?”
“Yes,” Bob snarled. “Because we’ll still be alive. There will be new problems, but at least we’ll be around to worry about them. If we stick to your hard line, everything we know will end.”
As if to prove him right, the ground began to rumble. Deep in the magic, something was shifting. Thanks to Amelia’s new connection, Julius could feel it in the base of his fire. Marci must have felt it too, because her face turned ashen.
“Hoo boy,” she said, shaking her head. “I think Big and Ugly up there just bit into something critical.”
“He must be reaching the end of Algonquin’s physical water,” Raven said, flapping up to the shimmering barrier where Ghost was holding the magic at bay. “I’m going to check the Sea of Magic to see how much time we have left. Phoenix?” Emily snapped to attention. “Get our forces into position. If we get a chance to move, it’s going to have to be fast. And as for you…” Raven turned his sharp beak toward Bob. “Our bargain still stands. Do what you must, but don’t forget what you promised us.”
Bob nodded, but the spirit was already gone, vanishing with a shimmer into the dark.
“What did you promise him?” Marci asked Bob.
“That I would save his world,” the seer replied with a smile. “Raven is very civic-minded. He’ll do anything to save his plane, even if it means working with a dragon against his fellow spirits.”
“Then he was cheated,” the Black Reach said bitterly. “You sold him something you knew you could never deliver.”
“I knew nothing of the sort,” Bob replied, staring his death in the face. “You’re right that this ends in a wasteland, but a wasteland is still better than no land. If dragons survive, some part of this world must as well, because otherwise we’d have nothing to stand on. And if the land is still there, there’s a chance the spirits will rise again. A chance, that’s all I promised, but when you’re an immortal spirit, a chance is all you need. We mortals aren’t so fortunate. If we don’t take the future into our own hands, we’re doomed.”
“We are doomed either way,” the Black Reach growled. “Better to die with this world than repeat the fall of the last.”
“How can you say that?” Bob cried. “You’re the Construct of the Future! You were created to do exactly what I’m trying to do: preserve our future.”
“You can’t preserve the future by repeating the past.”
“I’m not repeating the past!” Bob shouted. “I might be breaking the letter of your law, but when it comes to the spirit, our goals are the same! You’ve been working for ten thousand years to protect dragons from themselves. You’ve fought as hard as you could within the limits of your purpose, not just to stop rogue seers, but to make us better as a species. You’ve bent over backward to foster peace and end the in-fighting that has torn us down for so long. The future I mean to buy does all of that, and it keeps everyone from dying! How can you kill me for it?”
“Easily,” the Black Reach replied, his voice final. “You knew the price, Brohomir. You were warned countless times, but no more.”
He lifted his hand, which no longer looked like a hand at all. It was a dragon claw, an enormous one every bit as huge and deadly as Dragon Sees the Beginning’s. But where his brother’s talons had been as white as bleached bone, the Black Reach’s claw was as dark as the shadows that surrounded them. And it was in that moment, that second that seemed to stretch on forever, that Julius finally realized the Black Reach had never been more than a shadow himself. He truly was a construct, a carefully pieced-together mask created to hide the truth of what he was. Death. The final end no seer—no matter how clever or justified or righteous—could avoid.
“You have made up your mind, Brohomir,” the construct said in a deep, sad voice. “And I see no more futures where you change it, which means the time has come. Now tell your brother to move aside and accept what you have made inevitable.”
Bob took a sharp breath, his hands tensing on Julius’s shoulders, but whatever he was working up the courage to say never made it out, because Julius spoke first.
“No.”
Chapter 4
The word rang through the cold air like a shot. Everyone beneath the broken spiral of on-ramps held their breath as Dragon Sees Eternity’s eyes narrowed.
“What?”
“No,” Julius said again, putting his arms out so that he was blocking Bob. “I’m not letting you kill my brother.”