XII

I pounded on Blair’s door incessantly. She wasn’t particularly good at decrypting prophecies, but she was a far cry better than me, and she would at least not have the personal attachment to it. She took forever to get to the door, and I was about to break it down when it finally swung open.

“Oh, it’s you,” she sighed, letting me in. “I thought you were over at the kingdom?”

“Not the concern right now, Blair,” I snapped. I slammed the book on the kitchen counter, open to the page that had my prophecy. “What is this?”

She sauntered over and took a glance at the page. “Oh, that. That’s the story of how you supposedly destroy the world.”

I motioned emphatically for her to continue. Blair sighed and sat down, writing out the prophecy.

“There’s a lot of speculation about it,” she told me, “and I am on the side of it’s not a bad prophecy.”

She turned away, heading to the kitchen to make a pot of tea. I was sure it would be laced with something to keep me from freaking out too much,