The chair turned slowly, as if pushed by an invisible hand.
The figure seated in it was me.
Not the me from now, with shadows coiled beneath my skin and a false hydra lurking in the corners of my consciousness. The me from before. From Earth. Dark hair, unremarkable clothes, the face of someone who had never cast a spell in his life.
"You look tired," the other me said.
"I am tired."
"When aren't you?"
The other me smiled, and it was strange seeing that expression on a face that had once been mine. Strange and wrong, like looking into a mirror that reflected not what was, but what could have been.
"You could stop, you know," the other me continued. "Walk away. Let Marcellus handle the church. Let Trish and the other two handle the archmage. Let someone else carry the weight for once."
"And let millions die?"
"You're not doing this for the people."
I grinned. "Of course, I'm doing it for Evelina."
