She turns to someone and smiles. My breath catches when I see myself smiling back.

“Would I be an irresponsible mother if I made pie for dinner?”

I laugh. “I won’t tell if you won’t.”

A weight presses against my chest. An ache so fierce, I can hardly breathe. I could bring my mother back. All the small things I’ve missed about her could be mine again: the comforting weight of her hands on my head as she brushes my hair, the cadence of her voice as she lectures me about the future, the way her laugh sounds like music. I sink into the vision. Luxuriate in all the ordinary things I used to take for granted.

It would be easy. Effortless. And I wouldn’t be an orphan anymore.

I give in to Latham. I feel the bone starting to mend beneath my fingers.

But then my mother’s face rises in my memory. Her head tilted to one side, her lips pressed together in a disappointed frown. She wouldn’t want to be alive in a world ruled by Latham.

As tempting as it is, I can’t choose my own happiness over hers. I won’t abandon my friends to a version of the future where they aren’t free. I push Latham’s magic away and take it back for myself. Then I use every last bit of my strength to yank him down a path of my choosing. I force him to explore all his potential in the past—paths where he laughs and cries, and no heartache is bigger than the love at home waiting to soothe it.

I feel him sinking into the past like I sank into the future. The images I show him wear down his resistance. They soften him.

Outside the vision, his hand brushes against mine. Magic pulses between us where my skin touches his, and I can feel the exchange of energy like we’re playing a game of catch—tossing a stick back and forth between us so quickly that it blurs as it sails through the air and I can’t tell anymore if he threw it last or if I did.

Power gathers inside me—bright and glimmering, but also dangerous. The way fire is both life-giving and deadly.

Bram’s voice is gentle near my ear. Don’t fall forward. Draw power out of your bones. Reel it in. Gather the magic in your center. I don’t know if he’s speaking now, or if I’m remembering what he said earlier. Past or present? Either way, I concentrate on the contours of my bones, and feel tendrils of power lifting inside me, reaching out for something to hold on to.