Last Dragon Standing (Heartstrikers #5)(2)
When Brohomir nodded, Amelia tossed back the last of her fermented coconut. Properly braced, she dropped the empty flask in the sand at her feet and lifted her hands in front of her, curling her fingers in the empty air like she was preparing to rip open a curtain. When every knuckle was hooked at the correct angle, the air in front of her lit up as a searing lash of Amelia’s magic struck the empty space above the surf, sundering the dark as she ripped the world apart, opening a hole into emptiness itself.
“I can only hold it for five minutes!” she yelled over the wind that began howling past them out into the blackness on the other side of the portal.
Brohomir nodded and pulled his alpaca wool jacket tight, filling his lungs with air as he stepped off the nighttime beach and into the true dark of the space between worlds.
The moment he crossed the portal threshold, all sound vanished. He could still see Amelia behind him, her black hair whipping wildly around her strained face as she fought to hold the doorway open, but there was no more wind or sound. Just the empty dark, stretching out to infinity around him.
“Right,” Brohomir said, speaking the word out loud even though the only voice he could actually hear was in his own head. “Let’s try this.”
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.”