Page 119 of Truly Madly Magically

“I am a Revelare,” I tell the crowd. The world. “One with the past and one with the future. Not bound to look forward or backward, but able to do both.”

Another great murmur erupts through the crowd, but I’m watching the Joywood. Because while they look shaken, I don’t see shock.

They knew this could happen. I can see it clearly. All their talk of weak half humans my whole life, but they knew Goods were Revelares way back when.

This is why, once they decided that the Riverwood could be a threat to them, they came for me. This is why I was such a target.

Why we’ve all been targets. They knew what we could be and so they’ve tried to take us out, one by one, for our whole lives. Belittle us, scare us, demonize us. Memory-wipe us, exile us, target us.

We’re still here.

I look back out to the crowd. It’s habit to look for my mother, and this time, when I find Mina in the audience, Mom appears beside her and gives me a nod.

Your sister is safe, she tells me. Ruth is watching over her.

This is not the time to tear up about the fact she was the one who made sure Sadie made it home—a home and family Bill made with Stephanie when he was still married to my mother—when that had to be one of the last things Tanith wanted to deal with. This is not the time to reflect on the things my mother taught me my whole life—like it’s okay to be petty to those who deserve it, it’s okay to lose control—as long as you apologize and do your best to fix what you broke—and when it matters, when it’s right, you step up. Even if you don’t want to.

I nod back.

Then I spot Jacob’s mother and sisters. They look pale and exhausted after doing hard work out there while we’ve been playing games with the Joywood. Maureen’s smile is bright, and she lifts her hand as if to say we did it.

I know I’m not the only one who feels relief wash through me. The Summoners are safe. My blood has given them strength against the Joywood’s poison.

I take a deep breath. Emerson has stated the Riverwood’s case, but I want to show it, and I only have five minutes till Samhain.

“Ask me anything about what a future looks like with them running it versus us running it,” I invite the crowd. “Ask me anything you like, with the time we have left. I’ll show you what could be.”

“You can lie!” someone—one of those conveniently unmuted Joywood supporters—shouts from the crowd. “Maybe that’s a glamour!”

“I can’t lie,” I say. I don’t know how to prove it to them. Any attempt to lie and my inability to get it out could be seen as acting. But isn’t that true with everything? Isn’t that kind of the point of all of this?

The Joywood lie constantly. Some people believe them. Some people are too scared not to. Some, I have to assume, don’t care either way.

It’s up to each individual to decide what the lie is, and then decide what they can live with.

“You don’t have to believe that I can’t lie. You get to choose whatever reality you want.” I look at Carol and Maeve, and I know it’s my eyes that put fear in their expressions, because they know it’s no glamour. Good. “That’s what ascension is supposed to be about.”

The Undine turns to look at me then, her eyes glowing almost bright enough to beat mine. “Time runs short, and the trials must end so the ascension choice can commence. There is time for one question,” she intones.

She does not say choose your question carefully, but I feel like that’s implied. When I look out at the audience, no one moves. I don’t know if it’s because they can’t, or they don’t believe me, or it’s just that no one has a decent question to ask.

“Ellowyn.” It’s Elspeth Wilde who steps forward. I brace myself. She’s been a supporter, she showed a moment of kindness to Zander and our child, and still I can’t fully believe she’s going to keep doing those things after nearly thirty years of her doing and being the opposite.

“I want you to show us the confluence in the future,” Elspeth says firmly. “Since it nearly flooded the town and killed us all this year, it’s important to know. What will it look like under the Joywood and the Riverwood?”

I nod, but before I can sink into my magic, Zander speaks.

“You have to untie her,” he orders the Joywood.

It’s not a request. His voice is little more than a rasp, and I feel it like my own pain.

I shake my head. “No, they don’t. The Joywood can hold me back in all the ways they’ve been doing most of my life. They’ve tried belittling me, poisoning me, you name it, but they can’t seem to stick the landing. Let them keep me tied up. It doesn’t change what I can do.”

Or who I am. They’ve never been able to change that, even when I gave them the power to make me doubt myself.

Never again.

I breathe deep and tilt my head back to soak in that moonlight Carol so helpfully trotted out for us. I speak the words that come to me from deep inside, as if they’ve been there all along:

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