Mercune shook her head and looked away, but smiled faintly as she did. “Well, alright. I’ll be a seer. You’ve convinced me.” She ran a slim hand through her sunset hair, sighing wistfully. “I thought I’d never say that! Not since a talk I had with my babysitter a long, long time ago. But yeah, no. You’re quick.”

  Proto blinked, almost doubting he’d just heard right.

  I did it. A hot and cold thrill tingled from his core through his limbs. She’ll be a seer and not a doer. On his last day in the breathing world, his last practice run before having to save the future, he’d figured out how to do so. In a week!

  He wanted to thank Lady Luck, the Fates, and Flua-Sahng, but he wasn’t sure where to start!

  “Weellll, what do you have to say for yourself, Mister?” the redhead teen demanded.

  “ . . . tubular,” he said.

  Mercune laughed delightedly. She pointed at his hand, and one more milk bread square of curried chicken formed inside it.

  Then, she spun to the wall of mist and flung forth a red-glowing hand. The wisps of whitish grey dispersed before her.

  There, beyond the misty threshold, stood the Queen of Heaven, with red hair flowing past her hips, garbed in radiant raiment of star-shaped leaves.

  “Hel-loooo, Lovely!” hailed Mercune, advancing toward her queenly lookalike.

  Our visitor-turned-seer followed her, nibbling on a curried chicken sandwich.

  “You sound unusually chipper today, Daughter of Life,” observed Flua-Sahng. “And that’s saying something.”

  “That’s because I’ve made a big decision!” explained the redhead teen.

  “What, you like bleu cheese more than brie?” asked Flua-Sahng. “I’ve always said you would, you know.”

  “Ugh! You’re clearly not omniscient,” said Mercune.

  “Oh? Well, guess what? Your descendants will love bleu cheese,” retorted Flua-Sahng. “Even the precocious teenage girls, who are every bit as blithesome and witty and wordy as you. And there’s nothing you can do about it!” she declared triumphantly.

  “Hmph. As long as they don’t like peaty whisky like Gramps,” replied the girl.

  “Ugh, like Somnus.” Flua-Sahng wrinkled her nose. “I’ll see to it they don’t.” She snapped her fingers with a red flash. “Although that will make a nice boy very sad, in a thousand years.”

  “Welp, he’ll just have to deal, won’t he!” Mercune archly replied. “Anyway, are you already forgetting?”

  “How could I forget what I never knew?” asked Flua-Sahng. “That’s an ‘unknown unknown,’ yes?”

  Mercune rolled her eyes. “Aren’t you quick. Anyhow, what I’m here to tell you is, I’ve decided to be a seer and not a doer.”

  “What, you’re not a seer already?” Flua-Sahng batted her lashes innocently. “You could’ve fooled me.”

  “Not as much as I could be, I think,” the girl quietly said.

  The Queen of Heaven smiled sympathetically. “You think correctly.” She clasped Mercune’s hand. “I may not be omniscient, but I come closer than most. And soon, you’ll come a bit closer too.”

  “For better or for worse,” said Mercune with a glum grin.

  Flua-Sahng squeezed her hand, then faced Proto. “But we’re being impolite, aren’t we, Daughter of Life? Who is this slackjawed, shabbily dressed fellow with the nice face, whom, like a barnacle on a boat, you’ve coxswained to the Queen of Heaven?”

  Mercune inclined an eyebrow at her, then faced her tracksuited friend. “I take lessons on politeness from her.”

  “Nice face, I said!” Flua-Sahng protested. “Oh, all right. How do you do, Proto? Feeling festive?” She eyed his tracksuit—which, he abruptly recalled, was green and red.

  “Is it Christmas, Proto?” she went on. “I can see how you confused Fall and Spring, but this seems rather daffy even for you!”

  “What? You confused Fall and Spring?” asked Mercune. “And to think I called you quick!”

  “Just dressing for the occasion.” Proto waved toward the reddening sky.

  “Ah.” Flua-Sahng nodded grimly at the heavens, then more grimly at Proto’s tracksuit. “Well, with that red, I’d suggest yellows, oranges, browns . . . Anything but green, more or less.”

  “More or less,” agreed the green-eyed redhead in a green and red tunic-dress.

  “I’m not even going to defend myself.” Proto rested a hand on his hip and faced the sky. “Since I’d just be telling you two omniscients what you already knew.”

  “Almost omniscients,” the Queen of Heaven corrected politely.

  “Yes. Modesty is among our many affinities,” noted Mercune.

  “Well said,” concurred Flua-Sahng. “Affinities, I like that.”

  “Great minds.” Mercune tapped her temple.

  “The apple doesn’t fall far from the tree,” agreed the Queen of Heaven.

  “Well said!” praised the girl.

  “Oh, come on!” grumped Proto, throwing up his hands. “When I said exactly that . . . !”

  “Don’t worry. It’s cause we love you Proto.” Mercune leaned in and kissed him on the cheek.

  Proto would’ve made some witty reply, but he suddenly felt about as articulate as an apple.

  The red-haired girl stared at him with a giddy, uncertainly grinning, hair-twirling, did-I-just-do-that look. And that wasn’t helping either.

  “Speaking of apples, look at those cheeks of his! Are you wearing lipstick, Mercune? No? My!” Flua-Sahng tittered. “He’s just lucky he has a nice face, or else that’d look awfully unfortunate.”

  “Thank Lady Luck,” agreed Mercune. “Or the Fates. Or the Queen of Heaven.”

  “You see, Proto? We do think it all the time. We just don’t say it,” Flua-Sahng assured him. “It’s our modesty, you see. It’s one of our affinities, we can’t help it!”

  “The sun can’t help setting, the seasons can’t help passing, and we can’t help our modesty,” Mercune philosophized.

  “Oh, I do like that!” enthused Flua-Sahng, as far off streaking lights clarified to manlike figures, horned and fiery, looming larger by the second. “Alas, I’m afraid even I can’t help what comes next.”

  “What?” Mercune frowned. “What do you mean? I’m not omniscient, you know!”

  “This,” sighed Flua-Sahng. She snapped her fingers, and the redhead teen went misty. Within seconds, the wisps of what had been Mercune were rising unto starry Heaven.

  For some reason, this hurt Proto more than all the other times he’d seen it. He felt like an era in his life had come to an end. He felt like he’d lost a friend. And . . .

  He shook his head. “I guess no farewells this time, huh?”

  “Farewells? You two have run through farewells here several times now. I thought I was spicing things up!” replied Flua-Sahng. “ . . . ah. Since it’s your last time. I see.”

  If you stumble upon this narrative on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen from Royal Road. Please report it.

  “Speaking of which,” said Proto, “I see I’m the only one surprised at what’ll be happening tomorrow.”

  Flua-Sahng’s lips pressed contritely. “I must seem impolite, mustn’t I? Hoarding the world’s secrets, almost omniscient, and sharing almost none of them till it’s almost too late.”

  “Yes, you could say that’s almost impolite,” he agreed.

  “Hmph! Let’s not get too saucy, Mister I’m-Adding-to-My-Possibilities-by-the-Day! Some would be grateful,” she retorted. “Speaking of saucy things, who’s the one eating a curried chicken sandwich in front of a hungry Queen of Heaven?”

  Proto wistfully eyed the last bite left of Mercune’s gift.

  “She’s not the only one who loves curried chicken, you know!” Flua-Sahng went on. “The apple falls close to the tree. Or, the curried chicken falls close to the mother hen, maybe?” The Mother of All looked down at herself. “Mm. And on milk bread too. I love milk bread.”

  “You’ll know you’re grown up when you prefer rye,” he replied.

  “That sauciness again!” She tsked. “We all go through a rye phase; but aeons pass, and we come back to milk bread in the end. Ashes to ashes, dust to dust, milk bread to milk bread.”

  “Some have aeons, some have one week,” he said.

  “Back to that again? You look a little vexed,” she noted. “Well, I suppose some vexation is reasonable. Though, honestly, Proto, you could’ve put this together sooner. I mean, those kids in costumes, on the day of your run? Come on!”

  “I thought it was Halloween,” he grumbled.

  “Halloween? With the pink cherry blossoms billowing by on the vernal breeze? First’s name!” the Queen of Heaven exclaimed, flinging up a hand. “Did Fyrir celebrate Halloween at a consulate? Did Ausrine and Mannus ride together to Halloween? Did Jen think Astrid’s silver gun came from a Halloween party? Did Helen think Fairy Queen Astrid was dressed up for Halloween? Did Sancho’s little sister get dressed up as Sailor Mars for Halloween? Did Uberta suggest those five medieval-looking wanderers came from a Halloween convention? Surely, you’ve detected a theme here. Something, perhaps, other than Halloween!”

  “Hindsight is twenty-twenty,” he mumbled. “Not all of us are almost omniscient.”

  “Well, at least you’re modest.” Flua-Sahng patted him kindly on the shoulder. “Modesty does more for a man than almost-omniscience, as a certain blonde bookworm would say. Will say? Might say?”

  “Anyhow, you should ignore my constant lighthearted gibing. Runs in the family, we can’t help it.” Flua-Sahng waved toward where the Daughter of Life had been standing. “The truth is, you figured out what you needed to, exactly when you were meant to, using what you’d learnt in the breathing world and the memories Somnus shared with you. My son did well in that. Because, for once, he did exactly as I told him.”

  “I just wish he’d do the same when it came to that drinking of his. More tea, less absinthe!” She idly conjured up a kettle and some teacups, each decorated with a red teardrop. “Care for some? It’s rooibos with berries and rose. I find it suits me, for some inexplicable reason.” She twirled a red lock thoughtfully. “Or maybe lapsang souchong, for you? Are you a lapsang souchong type? You strike me as one.”

  “I don’t know,” Proto answered. “But Somnus said his second favorite whisky tastes like lapsang souchong.”

  Flua-Sahng sighed, and her kettle gave a little shriek of annoyance. “He really needs to tone it down!”

  She finished preparing her tea, absently waving a hand. Beside her appeared an elegant white table with red ornamentation and inlays, together with two matching chairs. There, she sat and sipped her tea. “Ah. Better.”

  After a moment, she looked up at Proto, still standing nearby. “Oh, for Heaven’s sake. Lapsang souchong it is!”

  He found himself floating through the air and landing in the other chair. A teacup plopped in front of him, almost but not quite spilling as it landed.

  “Have a drink. It will make life feel better,” urged the Queen of Heaven. “And it won’t destroy your liver.”

  Proto had a drink, savoring the dusty brown scents and flavors. It did make life feel better, though not enough to banish wistful recollections of the dying day.

  Quite the contrary, in fact. He found himself recalling how his day with Black had ended, after he’d seen that yard sale sign—that sudden emptying out of the warm fullness he’d felt all day. Rising and welling and brimming, then gone.

  “By the way.” Flua-Sahng sipped her red tea. “Did you know it was named the liver since it does the living for you? True fact! I was there.” She basked in recollection. “I love the way they used to name things! They weren’t afraid to put things plainly.”

  Proto couldn’t quite muster up such light humor from the gloom he felt. And if you can’t say something nice . . .

  He smiled and said nothing at all.

  Flua-Sahng sighed. “You’re acting very lapsang souchong, Proto. That warm, dark, melancholic reminiscence! But I suppose I asked for that. I gave it to you, after all. The tea and the rest.”

  The Queen of Heaven clasped his hands, all warmth and earnestness again. “The Fates work in mysterious ways, Proto. Even when they’re being kind, they rarely make that clear.”

  “Consider,” she said. “If your concert with Black today had ended as happily as it might have—and you know exactly what I mean, Muse Concert Boy!—that would’ve given your Saturn Return, and the choice you’d make there, a rather different feel, wouldn’t it? Mm? Might tilt the playing field? Might make the other choices feel a little . . . wrong?”

  “I’ve dealt you a hard hand in life, Proto,” she said. “To make up for that, I’ve also gone to great lengths to give you a chance at true love. Or something like it. Whatever Anima is calling her little game these days. Saucy tart.”

  “The point is, when that day comes, you’ll have a chance to choose your happy ending, Proto.” Radiance of red enswathed the Queen of Heaven. “I’ll see to that. And that means no happy endings in the interim!”

  He couldn’t help but chuckle slightly. “Now you’re sounding like Dahlia. Maybe you can start talking about forbidden fruit or something?”

  “And you’re almost sounding like Proto again!” she declared happily.

  “I guess it could be worse.” He did feel better now. “At least I finally figured out the seer and doer thing, right? And just in time.”

  Flua-Sahng’s lips pressed, and she looked away. “Yes, Mercune chose to be a seer. Well done. That was crucial.”

  Proto had just started feeling uplifted by her words. But, seeing that look on her face, he now felt like a lofted ball that’d just passed the peak of its arc. He grimaced and waited for what was coming.

  But she said nothing, just staring at him. She, too, seemed to be waiting.

  “ . . . the world still ends, doesn’t it. The void still comes,” he finally said.

  Flua-Sahng winced and nodded. “A millennium from now. The same place it ended after the first time you visited Mercune’s dream. This time, she chose to be a seer, and that was important. But it wasn’t enough.”

  There’s a certain peace that comes with failure. Anxiety goads us to get ready for upcoming trials. But once we’re tried and found wanting? Anxiety is useless, so it slinks away.

  Proto had had a week to “learn what must be learnt” to save the future in Mercune’s dream. His last practice run in her dream had just passed. He’d used everything he’d learnt here, over this last week in the breathing world, and he’d failed. Indeed, the future hadn’t improved one iota since he’d started all this.

  There would be no more learning here. Tomorrow, he’d wake up, go running, get hit by a car, and forget about all this, right up till he lurched through the Mists into Mercune’s actual dream—lacking the knowledge he needed.

  So, that was that.

  Flua-Sahng must have seen the dead glaze over his eyes, since her own gaze widened with a lively sparkle. “Come, you still have half a day left, yes? You’ve learnt quite a lot this past week, more than you give yourself credit for. There’s still time to learn the last bit. You’ll have one more try.”

  “If you’ve tried and failed seven—actually, eight times,” said Proto, “what are the odds of success the ninth time?”

  “Oh, pooh on that,” waved Flua-Sahng. “It’s like that shiny golden robot from the space movie, always calculating how horrible the odds are. And then the dashing smuggler says, ‘Don’t tell me the odds!’ Be the dashing smuggler, Proto!”

  He couldn’t help grinning faintly. “I won’t be frozen in carbonite. But frozen in ice is pretty close, right?”

  “That’s the spirit!” she affirmed. “Yes, the ‘lovable rogue’ role suits you. A bit shabbily dressed. Saying the wrong things at the wrong times. Coming on to her in vexingly irksome ways, getting rightly ridiculed for it, and somehow succeeding despite everything; since, in the end, your heart’s in the right place. . . . Except, when she bares her heart to you, don’t you dare say, ‘I know’!”

  “Yep, I know,” he nodded.

  Flua-Sahng started to nod back, then blinked and narrowed her eyes at him. “Proto,” she said.

  Proto tilted back his head and laughed.

  After a moment, she smiled. “There we go. We’re back in business! He’s got his groove back! It’s time to roll up the tracksleeves and make hay! In short,” she concluded, “here we go again!”

  Proto rolled up his green and red tracksleeves.

  Flua-Sahng giggled. “That’s right. Just finish what you’ve started, and then you’ll have your choice. Your happy ending! You’re almost there now. And I promise I’ll take you the rest of the way, Spunky.”

  “Yeeppp, definitely Dahlia.” He shook his head, and she tittered.

  “Quite so. We’re both romantics, deep down, and we do love our happy endings. Especially long-awaited ones,” concurred the Queen of Heaven. “I mean, I know it won’t be your first first time. But, after all you’ve gone through lately, and how long you’ve waited, I think it will be awfully special, don’t you? Whoever it is.”

  Proto probably should’ve gone red at this point, but he felt he’d already hit his lifetime embarrassment quota. “You must’ve embarrassed Somnus constantly when he was younger.”

  “Constantly!” Flua-Sahng’s eyes gleamed. “Ask him about when he introduced Lady Luck to me.”

  “I hear they have a long history,” said Proto.

  “Oh, you don’t know the half of it!” she cried. “They’re almost as much a roller coaster as you! All ups and downs, and entirely too fast for comfort. But that’s what makes for a fun ride.”

  “Dahlia again?” he asked.

  “Oh, get your mind out of the gutter, Sparky,” she chastised, flicking her hand toward him. Twin streams of mist shot forth. “Off with you now, before you ‘I know’ yourself into real trouble here!”

  The streaking wisps of whitish grey wrapped round him, whirling in a lasso-like circle.

  “What, no farewells?” he asked, full of faux-dismay. “This is our last seer-vision together.”

  “Is it though?” The starry-leaf-garbed monarch tilted her head reflectively, so red hair fell low along her side. “I do get my tenses mixed up, Heaven help me!”

  He might’ve asked what she meant, but he was busy being borne aloft by streams of mist. Away and far flew Proto over a plain of brownish-red.

  “Adieu, Seer!” The Queen of Heaven handcurled her farewell. “When next we meet here, you’ll be a visitor.”

  As he tumbled headlong backward, Proto raised a finger in correction. “Provisional visitor.”

  The music of her laughter was the last he heard of that place, before being swept off into starry mirk of grey. He ate the last bite of his milk bread sandwich. And the far lights whirled in parallax, and he hurtled through one dark and bright unknown toward another.