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49. The Soulsinger

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"Why're you so far away?"

You blinked at Azur in disbelief. After welcoming you into the castle, he'd ushered you into an empty, small room with floor-to-ceiling windows. If not for the blizzard, you would've had a beautiful view of the mountain range.

"Why am I so far away?" you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper. You and Azur were on opposite sides of the room. You were near the archway, and he was near the windows. "I don't trust you, that's why. And the last time we met in a dream, you said my time here was short."

"That wasn't a threat." Azur licked his teeth thoughtfully. "And that wasn't a dream."

The garden stopped at the water's edge, but steps had been carved into the stony bank. Rhysand and an older Nyx sat on them and played in the water that rushed by.

You steeled yourself against a shiver because you didn't want Azur thinking you were afraid of him — of anything, really. "Care to elaborate?"

Azur sighed as if a child had just asked him a difficult question.

You narrowed your eyes. "It was the future, wasn't it?"

"It's more complex than that," Azur said as he looked outside. "That future may or may not happen."

You almost laughed hysterically. "So you're a seer? And I'm just supposed to take your word for it?"

"I'm not a seer," Azur said, mainly to himself. You could barely hear him over the wind, so you cautiously approached him. "Before I Made the Harp, I was the strongest soulsinger The Burning One had ever met, and—"

"Soulsinger?"

Azur lowered a wing to frown at you over a shoulder. You stopped a few yards away from him.

"Yes. Soulsinger." He shook his head and then turned to face you. Up close, his eyes were just as bizarre as you'd remembered. The whites were black, and the irises, silver. "Unfortunately, the name, the title, changed over the millennia."

Azur stared at you, waiting for a question, you realized. So you gestured for him to continue.

"This world's forgotten how godlike soulsingers are." He raised his hands.

"What're you—?"

Without warning, dozens of threads of light blossomed from your chest, growing until they passed through the walls and windows — until you couldn't see them anymore.

The blood drained from your face.

"Anima is more than just a current of power." Azur examined your threads of light, touched one, and then glanced at you. "I was born of Anima and the Mother's world . . . I was born of a boundlessness of infinite futures, and I was born of a weaver who captures them to build a beautiful pattern. Here, what's done is done. The past can't be changed."

"But seers—" You stopped speaking when Azur gave you a look, challenging you to continue.

"Again, I'm not a seer," he said. "They can only see bits and pieces."

"Then what do you see?"

"I see what I want," Azur said. "It's like . . . peeking. I can't change anything, but sometimes . . ." The silver-haired male trailed off and shook his head. "I was curious, so I looked through your futures. That's all."