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control to them.
    Suddenly they stood in the centre of the same place in the villa. The room was empty except for her and Tràth. They still held hands. Somehow, she knew not to let go.
    She glanced around. “Is this the same place but a different time, or a different place?”
    “A different place, I think. We aren’t really speaking,” he reminded her. “Notice how quiet it is?”
    He was right. She didn’t hear so much as a creak of the floorboards or chirp of morning birds from the open window.
    “So where is time?” She didn’t want to admit she didn’t understand what he’d explained earlier.
    “We are outside the flows,” he said. When she tensed, he added, “Don’t worry. We haven’t disappeared. We’re using your ability as much as mine. The druids will still see us sitting together. For now, our minds are in a place where we can observe.” He pointed to the window.
    Together they walked toward it, but instead of seeing the morning sun outside, the curtains drifted aside to reveal a distant, whirring storm of blackness and stardust. “What is that?” she whispered.
    “Everything that was, or could have been. Everything that is, or might someday be.”
    “I can’t see anything. It’s too far away.”
    “Not too close,” he warned her. “Time is bigger than you can imagine.”
    “How do you use the flows from so far away?” she asked.
    “Notice the points?” He gestured toward the edge of the storm. “Each one is a point in time. I can move within them, but that isn’t a safe place for you. I dare not travel much myself since…” His voice trailed off.
    “They’re moving,” she said, focusing on the tiny specks of light. They seemed to be infinite in number. As soon as she caught one in her sights, the light would flicker. Whether another took its place or the twinkle reappeared an instant later, she wasn’t sure.
    “When a moment passes, it changes from the future into the past, from a possibility into a certainty.”
    “A little closer?” she asked, fascinated.
    They took a step toward the window. When they did, the storm approached fast with a roar, filling the entire sky. Tràth tensed. “It’s too much,” he shouted over the winds. “I’m losing control.”
    Flùranach couldn’t pull her eyes away from the cosmic dance. What had been pinpricks became deep, glowing balls, each one a universe of possibilities. “Which one is ours?” she asked, curious if they might discover themselves and their possible futures. She reached out just as the music started, a tinkling of a thousand tiny bells.
    “They’re all ours,” he said. “Child, we must go back. We’re too close.”
    “Can you change them?” she persisted. Would it be possible to take the future she wanted, dimming the lights of ones she didn’t?
    “No!” he called out, the wind whipping at his black hair. “They all exist until only one remains, and that one creates others.”
    The orbs gleamed, and Flùranach saw herself reflected in each one. She wanted to find one, the right one, the one that would give her Rory and let her grow up. If she could only pull it closer, turn the maybe someday into right now .
    She reached further and didn’t realise she had climbed to the window ledge. Tràth shouted her name and begged her to step back. She wanted to listen to him. Somewhere in her mind, she understood she must. But a gleam caught her eye and drew her in deep. She leaned forward.
    Tràth gripped her hand with both of his own, the roaring storm drowning out his voice. The moment her fingers slipped from his grasp, everything changed. The world went from a dance of beautiful lights to a maw of blackness, sucking her into the endless well of its cold heart.

Chapter 5
     
    Munro and the others stayed awake the entire next day answering questions about what had happened to Flùranach. By nightfall, he was exhausted. Tràth said little anyone could understand, and Griogair descended immediately and sent for