Chapter 185 Looking Forward
Elara’s POV
The blank book exploded open. Pages filling themselves. Writing our future.
But not a good future.
“No!” I grabbed the book. Read the appearing words with horror.
“Five years later, Aurora attends school. Makes friends. Everything seems perfect. Until the day she accidentally kills her best friend during a game. The void inside her finally wins. She becomes what everyone feared. The monster. The destroyer. The end.”
“That’s not real!” Drakon ripped the book from my hands. “It’s showing one possible future. Not THE future!”
More words appeared.
“Or perhaps this future: Elara and Drakon grow distant. Their love fades. They divorce. Aurora, heartbroken, chooses void. Destroys the kingdom her parents built. Revenge for their broken promises.”
“Stop!” I screamed at the book. “Stop showing us this!”
“Or this one: The Western Coalition attacks. Kills Drakon. Elara goes mad with grief. Uses Aurora as a weapon. Mother and daughter become tyrants. Everything they built collapses.”
“Make it STOP!” I threw the book across the room.
It floated back. Opened to a new page.
“These are possible futures. Choices unmade. Paths untaken. You wanted freedom to choose? Then choose wisely. Because every decision matters now. Every moment. Every word. Every action. Shape your daughter. Shape your kingdom. Shape your love. Or watch it all crumble.”
The book slammed shut. Vanished.
Leaving us shaking. Terrified.
“Those futures can’t happen,” Drakon said. “We won’t let them.”
“How do we stop them? We don’t even know what choices lead where!”
“Then we make GOOD choices. Every day. Starting now.”
We stood in our bedroom. Silent. Thinking.
About how far we’d come. About how easily it could all fall apart.
“Do you remember,” I said quietly, “when we first met? When you were a stranger? An enemy? A monster I had to marry?”
“I remember. You were terrified. Lying. Pretending to be someone else.”
“And you were angry. Betrayed. Ready to hate me forever.”
“But we didn’t hate,” Drakon took my hand. “We chose differently. Chose to try. Chose to understand. Chose to love.”
“It wasn’t easy.”
“Nothing worthwhile is.” He pulled me close. “But we turned forced marriage into true love. Turned lies into absolute trust. Turned division into unity. Turned fear into hope.”
“We built something beautiful,” I agreed. “Something worth protecting.”
“So we protect it. Every day. Every choice. We show Aurora how to love. How to trust. How to choose good over easy.”
I looked at him. Really looked. At the dragon who’d become my everything.
“Promise me something,” I said.
“Anything.”
“Promise we never stop choosing each other. No matter what. No matter how hard things get.”
“I promise.” He kissed me. “Forever.”
Aurora appeared in our doorway. “Mama? Papa? I had a bad dream.”
We pulled her between us. Held her tight.
“What did you dream?” I asked.
“That I grew up bad. That I hurt people. That you stopped loving me.”
“Never,” Drakon said fiercely. “We will ALWAYS love you. No matter what.”
“Even if I make mistakes?”
“Especially then. That’s when you need love most.”
Aurora relaxed. “Okay. I believe you.”
She fell asleep between us. Safe. Loved. Protected.
“We’ll raise her right,” I whispered. “Teach her to choose love like we did. Show her that mistakes don’t define you. Choices do.”
“Starting tomorrow,” Drakon agreed.
But tomorrow never came.
Because when we woke, everything had changed.
Aurora was gone from our bed.
A note lay where she’d been sleeping.
“Dear Mama and Papa,
I saw the possible futures too. The bad ones. Where I become a monster. Where you stop loving each other. Where everything breaks.
I can’t let that happen. So I’m removing myself from the equation. I’m going somewhere you can’t find me. Somewhere I can’t hurt anyone. Somewhere I can’t destroy what you built.
I love you. That’s why I’m leaving. To keep you safe. From me.
Don’t try to find me. I’ll make sure you can’t.
Love always,
Aurora”
“NO!” I screamed. “She’s THREE! Where could she go?”
Drakon shifted to dragon. “I’ll search from the sky…”
“Wait.” Lily burst in. “Aurora came to me an hour ago. Used her power. Made me sleep. When I woke, I found this.”
She handed me a crystal. Aurora’s magic frozen inside.
“Play it,” Lily said.
I touched the crystal. Aurora’s voice emerged.
“Aunt Lily, by the time you hear this, I’ll be gone. I used time magic. The kind Chronax taught me secretly. I’m jumping forward. Five years. To when I’m seven. When I’m older. When I have better control. When I can’t accidentally hurt everyone I love.
Tell Mama and Papa I’m sorry. Tell them I’ll see them soon. Just… five years soon.
And tell them not to worry. Where I’m going, when I’m going, I’ll be safe. I’ll learn. I’ll grow. I’ll become someone they can be proud of.
I’ll come back. I promise. Just not now. Not when I’m dangerous.”
The message ended.
“She jumped forward in time?” I gasped. “Five years?”
“To age seven,” Lily confirmed. “She’ll live those years somewhere else. Somewhen else. Then return.”
“But we’ll miss her childhood! Five years! We’ll miss everything!”
“Or,” Chronax appeared, “you won’t. Time magic is strange. For Aurora, five years will pass. For you, it might be five minutes. Or five seconds. Or five years. Time flows differently for the caster versus those left behind.”
“When does she come back?” Drakon demanded.
“When she’s ready. When she’s seven. When she has perfect control.” Chronax looked sad. “She’s trying to prevent the dark futures. By removing herself. By growing up in isolation. By learning control without the pressure of your expectations.”
“I don’t want her to grow up alone!” I cried.
“Neither do I. But she’s already gone. Already living those five years. Right now. Somewhere in time.” Chronax touched the crystal. “All we can do is wait. And hope she comes back better. Stronger. Safer.”
“And if she doesn’t come back?” I whispered.
“Then we live with the consequences of freedom. Of choice. Of a daughter who chose to save us by leaving us.”
The room fell silent.
Our three-year-old daughter was gone. Living five years somewhere in time. Growing up alone. Learning control. Becoming whoever she’d become.
And we had no idea when she’d return.
Or who she’d be when she did.
The blank book reappeared. One sentence formed:
“Five years pass…”
Then a new chapter began.