Mercune stared at Proto, eyes a little wide.

  Then, she turned away.

  Suppressing a wince, Proto opened his mouth to say something. But he paused on seeing that, suddenly, she was holding those blood-red wildflowers again.

  Smiling, Mercune began speaking in a foreign language. She happily plucked out one of the flowers and stuck it in his shirt pocket. Then, speaking a sadder-sounding phrase, she tossed one of the flowers aside. It melted into air as it fell.

  Then, she spoke another happy phrase and placed a flower on Proto’s shoulder; then, sadly spoke and flung another flower wayward.

  Back and forth she went this way, decorating Proto, as he stared in bemusement. Sometimes, she giggled as she placed the flower—behind his ear, for example, or in his shoelaces.

  But she frowned on plucking out her final flower. Hesitantly, she spoke the sadder phrase and tossed the flower away. She opened her fist and looked within.

  And she gasped with delight, finding one more tiny flower hidden there. Speaking the happy foreign phrase excitedly, she placed the last flower in his hair.

  “Ah.” Proto looked upward. “Have I been made Prom Queen? Is this May Crowning? Is it time to ribbon the Maypole?”

  Mercune beamed. “Now we match!”

  “Indeed.” Proto nodded grimly, as she tittered. “Well done, Flower Girl!” He strolled onward.

  “Flower Girl, is it?” she spoke softly. “Good pick.”

  He turned around and looked at her.

  Mercune was clutching her hands behind her back and smiling. “Wouldn’t you like to know what I was saying a minute ago?”

  Proto blinked. “There’s . . . nothing I’d like more.”

  “Welp, too bad, Mister!” cried Mercune. “The world may never know!” She flicked the flower out of his hair and strode past him blithely.

  “Alas!” called Proto to her back. “I’ve been deflowered!”

  She turned to him and laughed, nose wrinkling with glee.

  Proto felt the time was right. “Here, my turn. You gave me flowers, I have to give you a gift.”

  “Oh? I do like gifts!” she cried. “Is it chocolates? Or vanillas? No one’s ever given me vanillas.”

  “Hm. Less edible, more shiny?” An object misted into being in Proto’s palm—a pendant. It was a silver cat with emerald eyes against a ruby backdrop. He handed it to her.

  “Ooh. I love cats. How’d you know?” She studied it. “And emeralds and rubies are my favorites. I can wear them with anything, and they’ll always match me. It almost feels like cheating!”

  Proto shrugged, lips curving up. “Yay.”

  “Yes! Welcome to the yay-sayers!” She thrust her fist in the air, and he obliged and did the same. “Yay!”

  They walked another minute or two before reaching the familiar wall of mist concealing the Queen of Heaven.

  “Welp. Here we are.” Mercune raised her radiant red hand.

  Proto sighed lightly. “All good things must come to an end, huh?”

  Mercune halted in place, stiffening. She took a deep breath and let it out.

  Then, abruptly, she turned to him. Starlight glistened on her freckle-dusted cheeks. Her lips parted and her eyes widened upon him, as wisps of sunset hair waved across her face.

  Proto blinked and took his own deep breath.

  Three seconds passed.

  Then, she shut her eyes and pressed her lips so tight they dimpled. She spun back toward the mirky wall and waved her glowing hand in one fluid motion.

  One moment, they were alone in their own little world, with mist enclosing them on all sides. The next, it was wisping away like memories of a dream.

  And now they stood before the Queen of Heaven, radiant in her star-leaved raiment. She regarded them bemusedly.

  Ignoring her, Mercune faced Proto once again and clasped his hands. She smiled at him with all she had, and they saw to eye to eye. She mouthed something.

  “Thank you” . . . ?

  He stared, unsure what to do.

  “Don’t mind me over here,” called Flua-Sahng.

  “I know.” Closing her eyes, suddenly looking tired beyond her years, Mercune released Proto’s hands and approached the Queen of Heaven. “I know.”

  Proto observed that the horizon already had started reddening. A couple lights like comets streaked afar.

  “Speaking of red, Proto,” mused Flua-Sahng, eying him up and down, “that turtleneck is a bit much. But I always approve of red.” Mirth twinkled in her green gaze as she ran a hand through her hair.

  “I’m glad you’re having fun with this,” Mercune spoke coldly to Flua-Sahng.

  This tale has been pilfered from Royal Road. If found on Amazon, kindly file a report.

  Proto looked at her and blinked. Tears . . . ?

  The Queen of Heaven, for once, looked disconcerted too. “I’m afraid I don’t understand, child.”

  “Oh, you understand completely.” The redhead teen wiped her wet face. “Why can’t I have this? This is all I want. This is all I’ve ever wanted.” A ruddy light was welling round her. It matched the flush in her cheeks.

  Flua-Sahng regarded her a moment. “You should feel free to pursue what you really want, Mercune.”

  “But why? It won’t happen. I know it, and you know it,” the girl accused. “No matter what I do, no matter what I say, it won’t happen. This won’t happen,” she cried, ripping off her corsage and holding it out. “Not to me, at least!”

  “Instead, a thousand years from now, some girl just like me is going to get what I dreamt of,” she went on. “As for me? Sure, I’ll have dreams. I’ll have a world’s worth of dreams! But she’ll have my only dream worth dreaming of! And for that, I’d give up everything!” With her last word, she threw her corsage aside.

  The flowers didn’t melt. They fell to the dirt and stayed there.

  Proto gaped. He felt he’d stumbled into something beyond his understanding.

  Flua-Sahng’s own eyes were wet now. “So would I.” She approached Mercune and hugged her, and the girl cried into her shoulder. “So would I. But I can promise you this. If you give up everything for what you love, you’ll have it. It may take longer than you—or I—would like. But I’ll make sure of that.”

  “I’m going to stay behind.” Mercune’s voice was deathly calm. “I’m not going with Gramps to Dubai. I know what happens if I go there. Every road . . . !”

  “Now, now, child,” soothed Flua-Sahng. “If the Queen of Heaven can’t explore all of Fate’s roads, neither can her seers. Even the most gifted among them!”

  “Gifted!” Mercune lifted her silver cat pendant, studying the glimmer of its emerald gaze beneath a sky incarnadine. “I don’t care. I’m staying here. If I only have a few years left, at least I’ll live them.”

  Flua-Sahng opened her mouth to argue—then nodded slowly instead. “Do as you would, Daughter of Life.”

  Mercune stared at her a moment, and then Proto, studying his eyes.

  Then, she glared at Flua-Sahng. “That’s not what you should be saying.” She shook her head, her gaze now drifting to the far skies. “There’s something wrong here. This isn’t real. What are you doing with me—!”

  By now, Flua-Sahng had bowed her head. Tears were trickling from her closed eyes. She flicked her hand at Mercune.

  The red-haired teen began to mist away.

  Then, straining and letting out a little shriek, Mercune reformed. “Not yet!”

  The Queen of Heaven stepped back and gaped.

  “First!” Mercune clasped Proto’s hands, her green gaze sparkling up at him. “Thank you. You gave me quite a gift!”

  Proto felt dumbstruck and not up to the moment. But he would do his best. “I’m . . . glad you like it, Flower Girl! It goes well with your eyes, hair, freckles, personality, and flowery shirt. And, alas, my flowery hair.”

  “Yes, it does!” She beamed at him. “But I didn’t mean the cat.”

  Tilting his head, he studied her gaze.

  But already, she was wisping away. Within seconds, she was gone, together with the unspoken meaning sparkling in her eyes.

  Well, not quite gone. Her corsage was still on the barren floor.

  Speechless, Proto looked to the Queen of Heaven. But she looked dumfounded herself.

  “Pardon,” she managed after a moment, wiping her eyes. “After aeons, you think you’ve seen everything. Then?” She shook her head.

  “That . . . didn’t end as I expected,” Proto observed.

  “No.” Flua-Sahng sounded faraway. “But the funny thing is, it does, in the long run. I see it clearly. Mercune stays behind and doesn’t go to Dubai. Yet somehow, Fyrir manages to get the Refractor working, raise the Boundaries, and stop the fiery pandaemonium loosed by my brethren. And Mercune lives out some happy years, even in a postapocalyptic world where few are happy. A short life, but a happy one.”

  “Then, in a few centuries, the orkish horde sweeps across the world, and the Children of the Mist fall before the Children of the Dust, and life is ended. The void comes,” she concluded.

  Proto frowned. “That ‘orkish horde’ issue was caused by something involving Ausrine, right? So if I fixed that first, would this approach to Mercune’s dream save the future?”

  “It’s difficult to say,” sighed Flua-Sahng. “But I’m afraid I doubt it. There’s something I believe Mercune must do. It may not matter for a millennium or so, but . . . I’m sorry. If I say more, I fear I’ll interfere with it.”

  “No, I think I get it.” Proto felt another puzzle piece fitting into place. “Mercune has to be a seer, not a doer, right? And that’s not what happened here.”

  Flua-Sahng’s brow rose, and her lips curved up. “You never cease to surprise me, Proto. Even after all this. And to think, I just picked you for your sleepwalking!”

  She had mentioned his sleepwalking before, and Proto opened his mouth to ask about it. But she continued speaking.

  “Yes. I believe Mercune must be a seer. For the world’s sake, she must accept that vision-plagued, abnormal, isolated existence. A life of seeing what is not and, for the most part, will never be,” the Queen of Heaven said. “And I wish I could spare her that. But all I can do is sympathize.”

  Proto peered at her. “How long have you known that?”

  “Since long before you were a glimmer in the Fates’ eyes, let only your parents’!” She smiled. “The problem is, if I say what I know, it won’t happen anymore. Often, saying what will happen causes a series of events that results in it not happening. Call it the Queen of Heaven’s Uncertainty Principle.” She tittered slightly.

  “I’ll tell you this, though,” she went on. “If I’d divulged this a few days ago, rather than letting you figure it out, it wouldn’t have ended well for you or Mercune.”

  Proto pondered. It was easy to forget that she’d seen a thousand variations of his life from start to finish and, in a sense, knew more about him than he did.

  “Guess I have to learn things the hard way, huh.” He felt sad. This dream had seemed to go so well, only to end up being a waste.

  And he felt sad for other reasons too, going well beyond the wasted time.

  Flua-Sahng took his hand and squeezed it. “Rest assured, Proto. Failure isn’t waste. You saw precisely what you had to see. Her sorrow has a purpose—more than you could fathom. And so does yours.”

  “How much do you know?” Proto wondered why she needed him.

  Flua-Sahng smiled sadly. “More than you could imagine, but not enough to do what needs doing, without you.”

  Proto sighed. “You’re good at that.”

  “I’ve had a long time to practice,” she waved modestly. “Rest assured, Proto—there’s no substitute for you. All roads lead through you!”

  “No wonder it always feels like everyone’s stepping all over me,” he grumbled.

  She laughed. “Oh, let’s not get too dramatic! I think I’ve given you quite a lot in life to look forward to.”

  “Maybe,” he said. “But I’m working day and night to get there. Literally!”

  “Oh, if only you knew!” she laughed musically.

  “Huh?” Proto squinted at her. That sparkle in her eye . . .

  “Forget it. Like everything else!” She beamed at him. “But yes, you’re right. Enough work for tonight.”

  She raised her hand as though to send the mists streaming at him, bearing him away—then paused. “One more question, maybe?” Her lips quirked up.

  He started to shake his head, then paused. “Yes, actually. Why do you call Mercune Daughter of Life?

  Flua-Sahng’s eyes blinked and widened.

  Then, she smiled. “As someone who’s been called Snow Blow, Partner, Spunky, Porno, and more, I’m sure you appreciate that I’ve always called you by your proper name, Proto. I always call things by their proper names. I named them, after all!”

  “So if I call Mercune Daughter of Life, it’s probably because that’s what she is,” the Queen of Heaven concluded. “Don’t you think, Chaos Progeny?”

  Now his eyes blinked and widened.

  But already, twin streams of mist were shooting from her fingers, swirling about him and bearing him away into the mirky grey, far from the smiling mystery on her face. Through dim obscurity he hurtled, watching the whirling of stars faraway, brooding on things even farther still, yet nearing.