I don’t know how I know that, but I feel it all the way into the core of my soul. Whatever the Fates did worked. My parents are coming home.

A bubble of joy—true, honest to goodness joy—fills my chest. I can’t even begin to describe the sense of relief.

My smile fades when the old one says, “No, not yet.”

“But they soon will be,” the middle-aged one says.

“That certainty you felt,” the young one explains, “was your guide to the future. You saw what will be true.”

That blows my mind more than a little. I shake my head, trying to wrap my brain around the idea—the reality—that I can now sense the future. And the fact that I’ve succeeded. I’ve completed my quest. I went back in time and, with a little extra help, changed the past.

“Until you learn to manage your new power,” the old one says, “we will limit the flow of knowledge.”

“Wouldn’t want to overload your brain,” the young one says.

The old one elbows her in the ribs.

“You should know,” the middle-aged one says, in a voice that sets me immediately on alert, “that only your family thread has changed.”

“Only my—?” The meaning of her words becomes clear before I can ask what she means. “Griffin.”

She nods.

The old one says, “We cannot change his fate.”

“You cannot change his fate,” the young one adds.

“I can’t,” I echo.

I close my eyes as the middle-aged one nods. When I do, I see Griffin standing on the Academy yacht, setting a bulky backpack down on the deck as he waves good-bye to the handful of us gathered on the dock to watch him depart.

As the yacht sails away, I know—in that unknowable way—that he’s starting a quest of his own.

“I can’t,” I say, opening my eyes. “But he can.”

“His fate,” the old one says, “his parents’ fates, are only his to change.”

“You cannot guide him,” the middle-aged one says.

“But you can encourage him,” the young one cheers. “And boy will he need your encouragement.”

The old one elbows her in the side again.

“Be cautious with your gift,” the middle-aged one says. “The future is a great responsibility.”

Responsibility is pretty much a four-letter word to me, but I think this is one I can handle. Better me than most of the theobrats at the Academy. At least I know the power will be in good hands.

And because a girl doesn’t change all her spots at once, I just might use that power to get the best of Headmaster Petrolas every once in a while.

“We will visit you again in the future,” the old one says.

“You need training,” the young one explains. “So you don’t, you know, go insane.”

“That would be nice,” I say sarcastically.