the unthinkable, a gift will emerge to remind him what he is fighting for.
The gift to give life Immortal will manifest, to save his great love.
A love he will save only to fight to be with for an eternity, a fight he will lose.
This lost love will serve as fuel to his fight, vanquishing his enemies
in one final stand.
Balance, the least peaceful, most costly state of being,
Balance, the state returned to through blood,
Balance, what the chosen one will come to hate.
“Okay, so basically your name is spelled out here,” I said, so heavy with shock I knew I wasn’t able to comprehend the gravity of what I’d just read and the role William was expected to play in this Immortal world.
“Now you sound like the Council,” he said, the tenor of sadness in his voice.
I dropped the book, reaching for his hand. “Wow. This is heavy,” I mumbled, looking for some way to brighten the darkness shadowing his face. “But since you can do anything, I’m sure you’ll have no problem with this whole chosen one thing.”
He looked at the sky, concentrating on a spot I’d become familiar with. “Thanks for the vote of confidence,” he said, his shoulders sagging as if the balance of the world was resting on them. “Since I have none myself.”
I hated seeing him like this, overwhelmed with the responsibility placed on his shoulders by everyone but himself. In most circumstances, I would have dropped the subject and moved on to something that included more laughter and a lot more lip-to-lip contact, but this wasn’t most circumstances. “I know I’m going to sound like a naïve schoolgirl in the worst kind of way here, so fair warning, but other than knowing there is a chosen one and everyone seems to think it’s you . . . just what exactly is it?”
A smile cracked, but it was lop-sided. “Not much really, besides the balance of the universe being dependent on this poor soul’s shoulders,” he said, darker than the night slinking around us.
I shouldered into him, hinting his arm should wind around me. He had a one-hundred percent accuracy rate when it came to reading my physical cues. “Is that all?”
He tucked my head beneath his chin, pulling me tighter to him. “You already know about the importance Immortals place on balance, avoiding the tipping point at all costs. Inheritors and Guardians believe and fight for different things, but at the core of it all, we believe in a cohesiveness . . . that is as unstable as it is tenuous. Inheritors appreciate the necessity of Guardians, as we do them. Either one gets too powerful and chaos in the world is the result.”
My mind leapt to a certain faction of Immortals that seemed concerned with everything but balance, but William was already there. “That was the way it was up until a few decades ago when a group of Inheritors decided it was their duty to tip the balance in their favor,” he paused, putting his words together with less care, looking overwhelmed by the weight of it all.
“Isn’t that what the High Council’s in place for?” I asked. “To make sure one Alliance or Alliances don’t get out-of-hand?”
He nodded. “Again, that’s the way it was until John managed to infiltrate and buy out the majority of the members on the High Council. They’re no more than a formality now, corrupt men ruling for the highest bidder. There’s no Alliance large enough to challenge John and he’s pulling more Inheritor Alliances into his, making it only more difficult to surmount a coup.” He picked at the corner of the quilt, trying so hard to keep his expression flat, but his eyes gave him away every time.
“The repercussions of them going unchallenged have been disastrous: economic disaster in the United States, political unrest in the Middle East, genocide in Africa, organized crime in South America, environmental disasters and human trafficking in Asia . . .” his head fell, swinging lower than I’d ever seen it “that doesn’t even begin to take into account the microscope level things they’re transplanting in communities around the world: hate, racism, murder, gangs, rape, drugs . . . in other words, the execution of morals as we know them.”
“None of that is your fault,” I said, shifting. “It is them and them only. You can’t wear the guilt of all they’ve done like a second skin.”
His face creased, looking more like a grimace that took its time to blossom. “Actually, if you subscribe to me being the chosen one, it is my fault. Ever since John and his Inheritors started tipping the balance towards mayhem, the Council’s been practically begging me to fulfill my supposed higher calling.”
“Which is what?” I asked, looking for specifics. “Other than saving the world?”
“I don’t know,” he whispered. “I’ve been too scared to ask for the details.” The form of the man before me was one I wasn’t familiar with. Slumped, curling into himself, shame painting his face, it was a first I’d seen him so and I was determined it would be the last.
“So enough with the heavy,” I said, nudging him. “What say you to that change of venue?” The revelations spilt out over the blanket had me wanting to fold it up and tuck it away for eternity.
“That sounds perfect,” he said, his back straightening. “Mrs. Hayward-soon-to-be.”
I exhaled. “Maybe you weren’t paying attention to the newsflash your father just so merrily delivered, but I don’t think there’s a chance in you-know-what that I’m going to become a Hayward in the next few hundred millennia.”