“We knew you would,” Hezekiah said.
“We’ve seen it,” Hava said.
“Uh, cool,” I said, glancing around the smoky room. “Where’s Gideon?”
Hava waved her hand dismissively. “Around.”
“Right.” I blinked. My eyelids were heavy. “Um, I came… I wanted to…”
“You’ve come to us with a question,” Hava stated.
I nodded.
“The future is never set, Riley Shepard,” Hezekiah said. “You know this.”
“I did what you wanted.” I rubbed at my forehead, struggling to keep my thoughts in line. “I did what you said.”
“What I wanted?” Hezekiah cocked his head, his opaque eyes studying me.
Frustration wriggled to life in the back of my brain. “Yes. You wanted me to go to Purgatory. I did. Was it enough? Did I save them?”
“The future changes,” Hava said.
I ground my teeth. “Then what does your future say now?”
Hedi said, “It is like looking on the back side of a tapestry. The threads and colors mix together in confusing and ugly ways. But turn it over, and the picture is controlled and clear.”
I’d forgotten how much I hated angels and their riddles. “Did I save them?” I repeated.
“It was never about saving them.” Hezekiah clasped his hands in front of his hips. “It was never about them. It was always about you.”
“I—”
“You see only your little world. You see the ripples of action and consequence within a small pool. But we see the ocean,” Hava said. “We see the grand design. There is more to this war than the survival of three Guardians.”
Tears burned my eyes as my hands fisted. “Are you telling me they’re going to die?”
“Death is inevitable,” Hedi mused. “It is only a matter of when.”
Glaring at Hezekiah, I squared my shoulders. “You told me I could save them. That if I gave everything, they’d—”
“Did I?” His honest curiosity fueled my anger, and my vision flickered red, then back to multicolor. “I said only that which would send you on the correct path.”
And there was the confirmation.
“You knew what they’d do to me,” I said, and he nodded gravely.
“The futures you faced within the cursed realm were never pleasant ones.”
“And you sent me anyway?”
Another nod. “Yes. It was necessary for the good of all. Had you not gone to Purgatory, you would have remained divided. You would never have accepted every part of yourself or the power that came with it. Had you not gone to Purgatory, you would never have become who you needed to be, and the future would have been bleak indeed.”
“What about me?” I demanded. “What about my future? You said that life is about balance. All I’ve done is suffer! Where’s my balance?”
“You have the love of three honorable men,” Hava said. “You have the loyalty of many friends, some of whom have died to protect you. Is that not worth the turmoil?”
An angry tear slid down my cheek. “I don’t want to suffer anymore.”
For a moment, Hava looked almost sad, her milky eyes wet. “The battle is not over, not for you, not yet.”
“Why me?” My voice cracked, and I swiped bitterly at the moisture in my eyes. “Why does it have to be me?”
“It doesn’t,” she said simply, and I…
“What?”
Her mouth tilted in an almost smile. “It doesn’t have to be you. There are others who will pick up the mantle, should you walk away. The future would be darker. Their battle would be more difficult. Many more would die. But you are not a savior, Riley Shepard. You are but an instrument. A powerful one. One that we have waited many millennia for.
“You could bring an end to a war that has waged for far too long. Should you choose to fight, you very well may bring about peace. Yes, there will be loss. More will be asked of you before the end. But you could end this.”
“The future isn’t set,” I said.
“No, it is not,” Hezekiah said. “There is always the risk of defeat. But there is a chance of victory as well. But it comes down to choice. Always choice.”
“Fate is unkind. Choice is choice is choice.” Hedi sighed, a tear carving a wet path down her face. “The price is steep. So much sorrow.”
“Victory requires sacrifice,” Hava said. “It always has.”
“It always will,” Hezekiah finished.
I shook my head. “My choice? Do I really have one, or is it just the illusion of choice? Lucifer took everything from me. And I can’t walk away. I can’t…”
“Still a choice, maybe one you feel has been made for you.” Hava looked away from me, her blind eyes staring into nothingness. “Fate is not always fair. But it is just. In the end.”
“And if I walk away? If I wash my hands of this?” I asked.
“It is within your right to do so,” Hava said.
Hezekiah said, “But as with all choices, there are consequences.”
“Are you ready to face them?” Hedi asked.
“I’ve already made my choice,” I said honestly. “I made it a long time ago. You said the future isn’t about them, but my future is. I choose them. Maybe that’s what condemns us in the end. But at least I’ll have them, even if it kills me.”
Hava said, “Love is powerful.”
Hedi said, “Love can be cruel.”
Hezekiah said, “Love will save you.”
And I said, “It already has.”
Then I turned my back on the Thrones and stepped into the thick, billowing smoke. I felt like I was floating more than walking. Hezekiah’s voice echoed around me as I reached to open the tent flap.
He said, “The time is fast approaching where Heaven will weep tears of blood. The ground will shake and split. The claws of Hell will sink in deep.”
He said, “There will be wailing and gnashing of teeth. Death will cover this land, and the rocks will cry out for salvation.”
He said, “You will have a decision to make, Riley Shepard. I pray you choose well.”
I didn’t respond as I ducked under the animal skin and stepped into the sunshine.
Chapter Thirteen
The sun blinded me, and I squinted against the harsh light. The torches lining the path no longer burned. I glanced over my shoulder and startled. Whatever eerie smoke that had been pouring from within the tent was gone. The flap lay limp and still over the entrance.
Out of curiosity, I peeked inside the tent I’d just exited. It was empty and bare. Dirt floor. No furniture or burning incense. Not a soul in sight. It was cold. I shivered as I stepped back, allowing the flap to fall shut.
“Gideon?” I called, walking down the pebbled path. “Where—”
There. Ahead of me, at the edge of the tree line, sat Gideon. He leaned against the trunk of a tree, his arms rested on his raised knees. His cheeks were flushed, and his eyes were glazed. He blinked lazily up at me as I came to a stop in front of him.
“You were gone so long,” he said. “I couldn’t find you.”