Echo Soul Seekers

can choose my own path if it’s already been determined for me?
    The words contradict. Don’t make any sense.
    It’s up to me to assemble the pieces of my life, call upon everything I’ve learned, put it all together, and prove the prophecy wrong.
    Daire will not die.
    Not on my watch.
    I’ll do whatever it takes to make good on that.
    I narrow my focus, watching the curls of steam weave and gyrate before me. Then without another thought, I designate the one that I’ll follow. Watching as it sparks and blazes, doubling in size as it consumes the other and leaps wildly before me.
    I wish I could say that what I feel is relief. But the truth is, the sight leaves me unsettled.
    Still, the choice has been made; there’s no going back.
    There will be consequences for sure, Leftfoot promised as much.
    But it’s nothing I can’t handle. There’s no price too big to save Daire.
    *   *   *
    By the time we leave the sweat lodge, the night is nudging well into dawn. Though, despite the lack of sleep, I’m not the least bit fatigued.
    If anything, I feel renewed. Transformed. Like I grew from a kid to a man over the course of one night.
    “I want you to go to school today,” Leftfoot says, as we dress ourselves again. “Not only because your education is important, but also because it keeps Chepi from worrying, and it gives you the appearance of normalcy. Which is something you must work to maintain, now more than ever.” He studies me closely, and I suck in my breath, ready for him to make mention of it. Give me grief over the choice that I made. But he just goes on to say, “Also, you must return to the Rabbit Hole and apologize for missing the last few days of work. Act contrite. It’ll cost you nothing but a moment of pride, which is something you should try to rid yourself of. It’s an overrated virtue that only serves to isolate, separating us from each other when we’re better off working together. Then, once you’re back in, I want you to locate that vortex I mentioned. Daire knows where it’s located. But since it’s best to avoid her at the moment, you might turn to Xotichl. She’ll be able to guide you.”
    “And once I find it?” I ask, realizing that despite all he taught me over the course of the night, he never got around to telling me how he expects me to use what I’ve learned.
    “I just want you to find it, that’s all—or at least for the moment, anyway. They’ve already breached the Lowerworld, so that particular damage is done. For now, I just want you to keep an eye on it. Look for anything out of the ordinary, and report back to me with your findings.”
    I rub a hand over my chin. Surprised to discover a wide swath of whiskers that scratches my skin. Seems like days since I last showered and shaved.
    “And Dace—”
    I turn to face him.
    “Get some rest. You’re gonna need it.”
    Despite Leftfoot urging me to rest, despite the fact that I haven’t slept for days, when I get to my apartment, I’m way too wound up to do anything more than briefly consider it.
    Sleep means closing my eyes.
    And closing my eyes means dreaming of Daire.
    Daire smiling.
    Daire laughing.
    Daire loving.
    My head filled with the movie of her—culminating in the way she looked just after I told her we could no longer see each other. How she slumped over my kitchen table as though stabbed by my words …
    I shake free of the thought, train my focus on getting cleaned up. Changing into clean clothes I pick from the laundry basket I never got around to unloading, and grabbing a quick bite to eat before I head out for school.
    Fueled on nothing more than a bowl of stale cereal, weak coffee, and the adrenaline of pure determination, I glance at the clock as I make my way out. I’ll be early—but early is better than sitting here trapped in my memories.

 
    twenty-two
    Daire
    Jennika stops by early the next morning, under the guise of wanting to enjoy breakfast with us, but I know better. She wants to see me dressed and ready for school. Living the kind of life that won’t cause her to worry any more than she already does.
    She knocks on my bedroom door, barely allowing me enough time to respond before she barges in and plops down on my bed. Spouting some lecture she must have spent half the night composing. Her voice rising and falling as I dart from my bathroom to my closet in various stages of dress.
    It’s the same talk we parted with when she left Enchantment just a few months