That was what it had been like, for so many years—three friends, delighting in each other’s company. The kind of children who make a blood bond that they will never be separated, who imagine themselves growing old together, still laughing and talking and happy, endlessly happy.

An image glimmered in another mirror, and I looked with reluctance. It was another iteration of Gwynn and Arawn, as young men at the turn of the century, walking down a street, clearly drunk. I could tell in an instant who was who, Arawn singing some dirty ditty at the top of his lungs and trying to get Gwynn to join in, Gwynn laughing and shaking his head and stumbling. Another picture flickered, a girl and a boy in pioneer clothes, running hand in hand through the woods, exploring. The girl stopped to cough, and fear flashed across the boy’s face. I knew she would not live long, but for now, she was happy—Matilda was with her Gwynn and she was happy.

More memories flashed, more Gwynns and Matildas and Arawns, and maybe there was tragedy in their futures, but at that point, they were happy.

Finally, Gabriel said, “That’s enough.”

“Better?” I said.

“Yes.”

“They aren’t us,” I said. “Their mistakes won’t be ours. We see those mistakes. None of them had that advantage.”

I pointed to the original three, Arawn and Matilda now finished their performance, the trio stretched out on the grass, watching clouds pass, completely at peace.

“That’s us,” I said. “You feel it, don’t you? We’re the closest to them. And that is us. Now. It will stay us.”

“Yes,” he said, and for once there was conviction there. Conviction and determination.

—

We exited into another room. I kept my light on, and we’d gone only a few steps when I caught voices. I could tell Gabriel didn’t hear them, and I said, “Finally.” A few months ago the prospect of a vision would have sent me running the other way. Now, I just wanted to get the damn thing over with.

The next room was a kaleidoscope of color and visual distortion. A group of people stood in the middle, their voices as distorted as the room. Five figures dressed in robes, hoods pulled up. My first thought was Cŵn Annwn? but the cloaks were wrong, and two figures seemed female.

My next thought was that I’d walked into a scene from a movie. A D-grade horror flick filmed at an abandoned amusement park, where the wide-eyed young blonde stumbles onto a satanic ritual in progress…and becomes the star, taking the role of virginal sacrifice. Yeah, serious miscasting. The only part of the description I fit was “blonde,” and my hair was really more of an ash shade.