She found the day’s report waiting for her at the inn.

  A group of rebels had started a riot at the market. Their motive was unclear, as they couldn’t possibly know about the princess’s presence. And they still haven’t found a trace of the Seer.

  Daliya listened, not saying a word during the whole thing.

  Thuraya prepared dinner despite the Innkeeper’s insistence that she rest. But to Daliya's delight, Thuraya insisted that only her cooking would satisfy the princess. Daliya silently admitted that Thuraya was a great cook. If she had been in her old world, she would have been one of the top chefs.

  Her eyes searched for Daliya’s approval as she took a small bite of her food.

  “It’s delicious. Thank you, Thuraya,” Daliya complimented.

  Thuraya’s eyes widened briefly before a warm smile spread over her lips. She nodded, “It’s an honor, Your Highness.” A smile remained on her face for the remainder of the night.

  After making sure that the door of her borrowed room was bolted shut and that Thuraya had turned in for the night, Daliya silently slid down the stairs.

  Two guards flanked the entrance to the Inn. Unlike the ones lounging around, they had a pale glow to their faces. The shadows cast by the torchlight made them look haunted and grim as if waiting for the clutch of death to fasten around them.

  They were jumpy, nearly alerted to her presence. She quickly returned to her room, looking for another way. A huge window, similar to the one in her room, caught her attention. Daliya rolled her eyes. The royal knights needed to brush up on their guarding skills.

  She lurked in the darkness provided by the sloping roof long enough to ensure no guard was strolling to her desired destination.

  She knew her actions weren’t sane, but she had to find the Seer. What if she could get her back to her world? Or at least tell her why she was dumped here?

  She slithered down the darkened path, stopping to let the few straggling guards pass. She could see what the assassin meant. Despite their clothing, they still looked nothing like passing merchants and more like officers playing make-believe. They were too loud, laughing and jostling each other, uncaring about their surroundings—like the knights they were.

  Somewhere, her knights won’t be snooping around.

  Only one place came to mind.

  She left the group behind and headed towards the marsh. She had first noticed the decrepit buildings on their way to the town. The small outgroupings of buildings were located on the outskirts, right next to the marsh. Even the knights hadn’t paid them any mind.

  The whole area was deserted. The buildings were in far worse shape than she thought. The walls were half-collapsed, revealing the rotting inside of what once were residential areas. She walked around the half-fallen houses, focusing more on her struggling feet than her surroundings. If she thought she was struggling before, this was a whole other level.

  “You must have a death wish.”

  She looked up at the assassin crouched over one roof. His lips were pulled up at one corner. He huffed out a laugh as she crossed her arms over her chest.

  “I thought you said you wouldn’t help me.”

  “I never said that. I said you can’t afford my service.”

  “It’s the same thing.”

  “Is it now?” he said, eyebrow raised. He landed gracefully beside her. “Besides, I’m looking for her too.”

  “Why?”

  “Didn’t expect you to be alone. I even had a whole plan to lose your guard dogs,” he said in a blatant way to change the subject.

  She had thought about telling Mazin but was worried about what the Seer would say to her. The assassin already knew she wasn’t the actual princess—and was taking it quite pleasantly.

  She shrugged.

  The assassin grinned. “Well then, let’s get on our way.”

  After an hour had passed with them walking around the ghostly town, evading the small number of residents and keeping to the shadows, Daliya stopped her companion.

  “We’re just going to keep going around in circles?”

  “Better than nothing.” He shrugged.

  She narrowed her eyes at him. “You don’t know how to find her, do you?”

  He paused. “How did the knights find her whereabouts?”

  According to the reports, there had been word about a man meeting the Seer and getting his future foretold by her. They had questioned the man but found nothing. He neither knew where she was nor could tell them what she looked like, nothing except how eerie and chilling her eyes were as she seemed to look not at him but through him.

  Daliya told him as such.

  He stayed silent for a while, eyes fixed on something beyond Daliya’s sight. “I can see the threads connecting to a person’s soul. They were once referred to as threads of fate.” He fixed her with a look.

  “Threads of fate?”

  “Thin, slippery things that are more trouble than they’re worth. Each person destined to meet her has a thread upon their person connecting their soul to hers. Once their prophecy is delivered, it disappears.”

  “Is that why you’re here? You know about that man?”

  “Yeah, but by the time I came here, the string had already been cut.”

  “How will we find her then?”

  “Luckily, another thread had already come into existence.”

  “Really? Where?”

  He pointed from her to the side. “This one.”

  “What?” Daliya looked around, trying to see that thread he was talking about. There was nothing. She sent him a suspicious look. “Really? This isn’t a lie, is it?”

  “Oh, you of little faith.” He shook his head slightly. “You’ll know when we find her.”

  She shot him a look. “Why not find her now if I already have the thread connecting us?”

  “It’s too loose to track. We need to be closer to her location for it to work.”

  “Well, isn’t it a bit too convenient,” she drawled, eyebrow raised.

  He rolled his eyes. “Let’s see you do better.”

  They walked for a while before her curiosity got the better of her.

  “Is this your power then? You can see the strings of fate?”

  “No. I can see souls. That’s how I knew you weren’t the princess. Your soul burns a lighter color than hers.”

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  “Really? What is my color then?”

  He looked at her. “A bright yellow with a hint of blue.” He grimaced. “It’s a bit too bright for my taste.”

  She snorted. “What was the princess’s like?”

  He paused, mulling over his his answer. “A murky red.”

  She stopped. “You’re joking!”

  “I’m telling the truth.”

  She crossed her arms over her chest. “What’s your soul like then?” she asked, goading him.

  He started walking, ignoring her calls, leaving her to hurry after him.

  Knowing he wouldn’t answer her, she asked him what was nagging at her since she knew he was also looking for the Seer. “What do you want from her?”

  “The same thing you do.”

  Somehow, she doubted it.

  After some aimless wandering, the assassin stopped her, a giddy expression on his face. He dragged her towards an old abandoned windmill.

  “She’s here.”

  The windmill looked two steps away from falling over. How could a powerful Seer take residence in such a desolate place?

  Dust and rubble littered the inside of the building. They walked up the stony stairs. Daliya stumbled as one stone gave under her. She took the assassin’s offered hand and slowly traveled the rest of the decayed steps.

  The Seer waited for them upstairs. She sat before a glass window, her black hair falling over her shoulders and reaching her hip. Her thin, elegant fingers wove around in the air as if weaving them through invisible threads. Was one connected to her?

  Thin black veins peeked from under the sleeve of her dress, contrasting with her pale skin. Daliya glimpsed other thinner ones, reaching towards her neck.

  “Great Seer, I’ve come to ask for a word from you,” the assassin said, inclining his head in respect. He looked so different from his usually rude persona.

  She opened her eyes. A set of white eyes, no sclera, flitted over her before resting on the assassin. Daliya stilled. She could see what the man had spoken about. In the short moment their eyes had met, it felt like the Seer’s eyes were drawing her in.

  “I have seen you searching for me. Alas, I have no words for you.” Her voice was gentler as if she were speaking to a child, not a grown-up assassin.

  The latter deflated. He cursed under his breath, frustration apparent in the set of his jaw and the deep frown marring his face.

  “Can’t you try again? Maybe you’ll see something.”

  “Fate has yet to speak to you, lost one. ”

  The Seer’s eyes turned to her. Daliya felt as if the world had ceased, and only they—the seer and her—both remained. The woman held her hand out to her. As if in a trance, Daliya walked to her and took the outstretched hand.

  The Seer stilled as soon as their hands touched. Dazed, Daliya stared at her eyes, feeling the void call her with its sweet, disembodied voice and swallow her whole. Then she blinked and was back inside the windmill, standing in front of the Seer, their hands locked in a firm grip.

  Right. She blinked the daze from her mind. She had to tell her. She had to ask her for a way back.

  “I’m not from here, not from this world. I was back home, sleeping, then I woke up here. I don’t even know how it happened. Isn’t there a way for me to go back?” she said, frantic.

  The Seer’s smile was sad and pitying. She shook her head. “Fate has called you to this world. From the beginning, the threads connected you through her. She was but a conduit.”

  “Does that mean I can’t go back?”

  “What brought you here had been destroyed after the summoning.”

  “The crystal?” Daliya asked.

  The Seer nodded.

  “But there is a chance, right?” Daliya said, the words stumbling over each other in her haste. “If one did exist, others might?”

  The Seer paused. Something flickered through her eyes, and her eyelashes fluttered gently as her brows furrowed in thought. She opened her mouth to say something but shook her head and looked at Daliya. “Know this, Outworlder. You are here for a reason. The Stone’s choice wasn’t random. Your fate is intricately woven with this world’s fate.”

  “The prophecy,” Daliya heard the assassin whisper.

  He stared at her as if he were seeing her for the first time. It sent unease down her spine. She looked back at the Seer. If she couldn’t get back home—for now at least—she would make sure her stay here was as safe and pleasant as it could ever get.

  Now, to the second most disturbing thing she was plagued with.

  “The nightmares…”

  The Seer closed her eyes and turned her head to the side, a hint of sadness on her face. “I’m sorry. The vision will come to pass.”

  Daliya felt the breath stick to her throat. Her insides rolled and revolted.

  Visions. They were visions and not just nightmares. She was going to die.

  She was going to die.

  “Is there no way to stop it?” She didn’t bother hiding the hopeful tone in her voice.

  “Fate cannot be stopped.”

  Those words sealed her fate.

  Footsteps and shouts echoed outside. She recognized one of the voices. Mazin was yelling instructions to search the whole area for her.

  Ah, her absence had already been found out.

  The Seer tightly gripped Daliya’s hand. She drew her towards her. Daliya nearly stumbled. She leaned over the Seer, her eyes catching the web of black veins that reached far under the woman’s dress, covering her whole chest.

  “We shall see each other again, Outworlder.”

  The Seer lifted her hands, and the window behind her shattered. Wind tore into the room. Just before Daliya closed her eyes to shield them from the sting, she glimpsed the Seer, standing with her hands held high and eyes closed, her black hair still despite the raging storm.

  A moment later, the wind died down, its presence gone, along with the Seer.

  “Yeah, she does that,” the assassin said. “She’s a windwalker. The last one I heard. She might also be the last Seer. Though at the point things are going, I doubt there would ever be a need for another prophecy.” He let out a derisive laugh.

  Daliya remained quiet. She could hear the knights approaching their location, alerted by the unusual wind. She couldn’t bother to care. Still lost in the Seer’s death sentence.

  The assassin stood before her, looking down at her. “Fate isn’t set in stone. If you dislike it, start anew and write your own.” He turned and started walking away.

  Something stirred inside her, screaming at her that if she left things as they were and let him leave now, her fate would not change.

  In the vision, the ice failed to protect her. If she had mastered her powers, she would surely have had a chance to change things.

  “Wait!” she called.

  He paused and tilted his head to the side, waiting for her to continue.

  She needed to ask him. She knew no other person who could help her.

  “I need your help.”

  The corner of his lip lifted in a half smile. “My service is not cheap, princess.”

  She straightened, tilting her head back to stare him down. “You said it. I’m the princess. I’m pretty certain I can afford you.”

  His grin was lopsided. “Can you?”

  She steeled herself and walked the remaining distance separating them, stopping right before him. “Name your price.”

  He paused, his honey-brown eyes regarding her. “A favor from the princess of the empire.”

  She frowned. A favor? She had thought he would ask for gold or silver or whatever currency was in this world. She narrowed her eyes at him.

  “What kind of favor?”

  His brows furrowed slightly, and an amused smile pulled at the corner of his lips. “Not so confident, are we?”

  “I’m trying to survive here. Not drown myself in some political or power struggle. I would rather find a way back home, if not, live my life peacefully to old age.” She hated the hint of a whine that escaped her throat as she lamented her terrible fate.

  A chortle tore through his lips. “I’ll keep that in mind.”

  They stared at each other. Daliya debated the pros and cons of finding someone else to help her. How about the knight’s captain? No. Even if he vowed to keep her secret, she doubted he would be much of a help. He didn’t have any powers to her knowledge, and she had no basis to believe in his loyalty. Not that she believed in the assassin’s loyalty. Far from it.

  But he had known. He had known for a while and still hadn’t exposed her.

  “Let’s hope I won’t regret it later.” She sighed.

  He grinned.

  “Daliya,” she said.

  He paused, watching her, and then a genuine smile—a real one unlike his mocking grins and derisive snorts—pulled at his lips.

  “Haitham,” he said.

  Mazin was appalled as she told him about their new addition.

  “But… your Highness, the knights are at your disposal. They—”

  Haitham snorted. “Are not doing a good job, apparently.”

  Daliya mentally winced. She had hoped he wouldn’t antagonize any of the knights. But apparently, she would have to add that clause in his job description.

  Mazin bristled. He unsheathed his sword and held it to Haitham’s neck. Daliya flailed around. She called the knight and asked him to lower his sword, but he wasn’t listening to her.

  As if the universe hated her, Haitham lifted his hand, palm facing up, and flames burst into existence.

  “I dare you,” Haitham said, a mocking smile curling his lips.

  Shocked murmurs filled the inn.

  “Southerner!”

  “A fire bearer!”

  She got between the two. “Lower your weapon!” She injected every ounce of authority she could muster. This time, Mazin listened to her. He sheathed his sword and bowed.

  She whirled around. “And you,” she addressed her new bodyguard and magic instructor. “Turn that thing off.”

  He sighed but did as told.

  She allowed herself a relieved breath.

  “A word, your Highness,” Mazin said, his shoulders stiff and face void of all expressions.

  “Not now. I’m tired. We’ll talk in the morning.”

  She climbed into her room, drank the cup of warm milk and honey Thuraya had given her, and was out as soon as her head hit the pillow.