Ariock hesitated outside the mathematics lab. He didn’t know why Thomas had invited him for a chat, and he felt guilty as he knocked on the doorframe. Everyone knew better than to interrupt the trio of super-geniuses.

A moment later, the door slid open.

“Come in,” Thomas said.

Ariock ducked through the entrance, painfully aware that he was supposed to be storming death cult space stations right now. He should have refused a friendly visit.

Then again, Thomas shouldn’t casually take a break, either.

They both needed to stop doomsday, not hang out.

Burnished copper plates reflected orb lamps and tall strips of overcast daylight. An intricate holograph showed mathematical complexities, although most of the workstations were turned off. No one else occupied the vast room.

“Serette and Mondoyo are taking a break.” Thomas lounged in a cushioned chair. “They needed sleep. Speaking of which, I know you’re not sleeping as much as you should. I wanted to catch up with you about your nightmares.”

Ariock paused, ashamed. Rainclouds followed him everywhere these days. He wished his moods weren’t so obvious to everyone in the city. “I don’t want to interrupt your work.”

Thomas leaned forward and clasped his hands, the pose of a psychologist. “You’re my friend,” he said. “I’m never going to be dismissive of your concerns, especially because you’re not as dumb as you keep thinking you are. You’re one of the smartest people I know. If something is bothering you, then I’m guessing it’s important. So please, have a seat.” He gestured to a companion seat within his range of telepathy. “I want to hear it.”

That was generous.

Ariock eased himself into the beanbag-like chair next to Thomas. It could accommodate most species, but the seat was too close to ground for him to do anything but stretch out his long legs. He leaned against the wall and braced himself for his friend’s disappointment.

“Yes,” Ariock admitted, “my nightmares haven’t stopped.”

Thomas gave him a troubled look.

“I saw a spiritualist, like you suggested to Vy,” Ariock said. “It helped for a while. But … I don’t know. I guess I’m under a lot of stress.”

He waited for Thomas to agree.

The boy said nothing.

Ariock tried to break the awkward silence. “I’m sure you also have nightmares about being a colossal failure and the Death Architect winning. Right?” He tried to lighten the mood by laughing.

“No.” Thomas looked like he was restraining himself from probing Ariock’s mind. “I don’t dream much.”

“Oh.”

“You have this dream every time you fall asleep?” Thomas sounded concerned. “The same dream?”

“Uh, yes.” Ariock felt like a patient sitting next to a psychologist.

But he didn’t want to give anyone reasons to be concerned for his mental health. He was supposed to be the Strength. That meant he shouldn’t shatter under pressure.

“How long has this been going on?” Thomas asked. He must know the answer already, but he was humoring his friend.

Ariock obliged him. “A few months.”

“And it’s the same nightmare every single time you fall sleep? Is the frequency increasing?”

Ariock didn’t want to admit that he was afraid to fall asleep. “It was a few times per week, at first.” He tried to shrug away the dreamlike miasma of despair that clung to him. “But ever since we found out about the Death Architect? Yeah.” He was so tired. “It’s all the time.”

Thomas looked like he was the one who needed reassuring.

“I’ve talked to people,” Ariock said. “For advice. Like, Vy. She took me to that spiritualist, a seer named the Great Mwagru. We had an excellent talk.” Ariock shifted, ashamed of how needy he was. Wasn’t he just wasting Thomas’s valuable time with a rather trite problem? “And I mentioned it to Garrett.” After all, it was impossible to keep major secrets from the mind reader he worked next to every day.

Did you know this text is from a different site? Read the official version to support the creator.

Thomas’s gaze sharpened. “What did Garrett say?”

“Well, he said it’s stress.” Ariock was feeling more and more ashamed. “He said the prophecies make it clear that we’re destined to win.”

Thomas looked upset.

Ariock felt humiliated, having listed a bunch of people who had already reassured him. He must seem so needy. His face burned. “I’m sorry.” He began to get up. “I know that I’m not helping anyone by having stress nightmares. I get that. I just…” He was so embarrassed. “I just thought that maybe you’d have some advice? To make it stop.”

“Sit down,” Thomas said.

Ariock sat back down.

“Your recurring nightmare isn’t due to stress,” Thomas said.

Ariock’s mood elevated. Was there an actual diagnosis for him? Was there a cure for whatever was causing the recurring nightmare?

“You’re dreaming the future,” Thomas said. “You have a low magnitude prophetic power.”

Ariock assumed that was a joke. He waited for the punchline.

“No one ever told you.” Thomas sounded serious. “But a lot of people know. Your mom knew. She told Vy and Cherise that you had a prophetic nightmare before your father died. You warned your family to not take that flight.”

Ariock’s mind leaped back in time to fire and acrid smoke. He had tried to carry his father, but he’d been too young. Too little. Too weak. And he remembered a feeling that it had all happened before. He’d had a dreamlike feeling that he had already lived the disaster.

Or dreamed it.

No.

Ariock stared at Thomas, silently urging his friend to tell him that this was an elaborate twisted joke. It had to be a mind game that Thomas was playing. That would be preferable to…

Death.

Devastation.

The nightmare sent tendrils of fear into Ariock’s waking life, hinting that all of his successes were pointless and a waste of time. It felt like the end of all things.

Thomas looked furious. “You’re predicting a future catastrophe. And nobody bothered to tell you.”

Ariock felt shaken and betrayed. “Are you serious?”

“Of course,” Thomas sounded bitter. “I’ve been asked to keep quiet about your prophetic dreams. But I can’t keep doing that in good conscience.”

Ariock wondered what sort of backstabbing ally would demand that his friend keep silent about such catastrophic news. Was it Garrett?

He could picture the old man making it an order. Garrett probably justified it by telling himself that he was protecting his great-grandson.

Protecting him from the truth.

Shielding him from reality.

What an arrogant, self-entitled jerk.

“I find your nightmare to be beyond alarming,” Thomas went on. “You’re dreaming a prophecy that predicts the death of my foster sister.”

Every time Ariock awoke with Vy next to him, he felt as if everything was all right. She was everything. But if the nightmare was prophetic…

Was she going to cease to exist?

Was there anything he could possibly do to prevent that?

“Your dream is something that we all need to take very seriously,” Thomas was saying. “It might signify the death of the universe. It’s a disturbingly strong hint that Ah Jun’s prophecies are not a guarantee of success, like Garrett believes. In fact, it’s a major clue that Garrett is wrong. And an idiot.”

Ariock was still struggling with the diagnosis. He had no room in his mind for anything else.

He had predicted his mother’s death. He had tried to dismiss that nightmare as a mismatched memory, a disrupted sense of time caused by trauma. But he was wrong.

That had actually been a prophetic dream.

Just like his prophetic dream foretelling his father’s death.

He had buried his sense of deja vu, but Thomas’s words unlocked the whole ordeal. He remembered now. He had screamed at his parents. He had thrown their luggage, trying to make a mess, trying to get them to stay home. His mother had listened. But not his father.

As for the Torth abduction? Ariock had suffered disturbing dreams for weeks leading up to it.

Some disquieted part of his soul had tried to blanket his heart and make him forget. But hadn’t he paced the sky room constantly, certain that a terrible storm was on its way?

Prophetic nightmares.

Those terrible dreams were a stark contrast to his good dreams. Sometimes he dreamed about soaring over beautiful terrain with Vy. He dreamed about Vy having powers.

But apparently only his bad dreams came true.

Helpless despair and rage coursed through Ariock. It was such a volatile mixture of feelings, he wasn’t sure what to do about it. The sky outside darkened, echoing his mood. He couldn’t help it. He wasn’t even sure he cared.

Why should he care about anything, if the universe was predestined to end in a few days?

Why should he even bother to try?

Fiery tendrils whirled in front of Ariock. Thomas was speaking, standing, snapping his fingers, trying to regain Ariock’s attention.

As if conversations mattered. As if anything mattered.

“What?” Ariock said.

“Talk to Garrett.” Thomas’s tone was as dark and stormy as Ariock had ever heard it get. “You need to demand to see the book of prophecies.”

The prophecies of Ah Jun!

Ariock abruptly stood, seizing on that ray of hope. Even if he had some feeble form of prophecy, he was nowhere near as talented as Migyatel had been. And Ah Jun had been an oracle. Her paintings must supersede anything that Ariock or any other prophet dreamed.

If Ah Jun had predicted victory, like Garrett claimed, then Ariock’s nightmarish prediction might be insignificant.

But he had to see. He had to know whether Ah Jun had predicted if his bride would survive.

He had to know the real truth, not just the spin that Garrett put on it.

He had to make Garrett show him the damned book.

No more whining excuses. No more secrets. Garrett owed him the plain truth—especially since he looked directly at Ariock and lied! He had told Ariock that his nightmare meant nothing!

“Does Garrett know that my dreams forecast the future?” Ariock asked, just to make sure. Deep down, he knew that Garrett must know. Garrett was a damned mind reader. He had spent his whole life spying on his own family.

“You bet,” Thomas said.

Ariock clenched his fists, so furious that lightning rippled up his arms. It was time to confront Garrett Olmstead Dovanack. Him and his arrogant initials. Him and his patronizing lies.

A small hand touched his arm. Ariock looked down.

“I want to be there,” Thomas said.