Page 20 of Fallacies

I brave a check over my shoulder, and when I look forward again, my entire body jolts.

There’s a dark figure standing a few feet in front of me, long black robes billowing out around them. Before I can properly take a breath, they move forward, one well-balanced step after another.

I take more than a few steps back, cursing my lost progress, eyes darting between whoever this is and the plank of wood beneath me.

Their hands appear out of their robes, long knives gripped in each one. Then their hood falls.

Easton.

My first instinct is to spin a quick ward in front of me, which he sees, but keeps walking anyway. As if he knows he can break right through it.

The groaning wood beneath me starts again, and I swear my heart stops beating when another hand shoots out for my ankle. My foot slips, and my arms swim out around me as I fight to regain my balance, barely catching myself. It’s the closest I’ve come to falling. Water crashes below me—a wave I would have drowned in.

If the current didn’t tear me apart first.

Heart pounding, I whirl back around, seeing that Easton has made it to my ward. Even though he could, he doesn’t try to break it. He just waits patiently on the other side, his expression stoic.

The wood groans beneath me again. Frustrated more than anything, I fall to a crouch, lying flat on my stomach. I grip both sides of the plank and lean over, coming face to face with⁠—

“Easton?”

He’s…upside down. Crawling across the plank as if gravity doesn’t apply to him.

My head snaps up, noticing the first Easton still waiting on the other side of my poorly spun ward. These are…illusions. They have to be.

Unless Easton has a twin brother who’s part spider monkey.

Slowly getting back to my feet, I try to gather my wits, eyes narrowing on the Easton behind the ward.

Assuming they are illusions, then they can’t touch me…right? Unless one of them is the real Easton…

The plank groans behind me, and I turn, coming face to face with a third Easton. He stalks towards me until I’m surrounded.

Fucking think, Cin.

At least two of these Eastons have to be illusions, which means they won’t be able to hurt me. So, I just need to figure out which one is real, and I can’t afford to mess up. If I pick wrong, then I’m in a fight with the real Easton, and I’ll be screwed. I’m good in training, really good, but Callan doesn’t run exercises on wooden planks perched over a ravine. My lack of training won’t kill me, but my lack of balance will.

“Alright. Fine,” I huff, turning to get a good look at them. “Process of elimination.”

The Easton under the plank is an illusion; he has to be, unless there’s some magic that I’m not aware of, which would allow him to slither underneath me without even holding onto the plank. I’m pretty positive there isn’t.

Which means the real Easton is either behind me or in front of me.

I stare at the Easton waiting for me beyond the ward. He’s the one I need to get past, so it would make sense for that to be him, but is it?

Callan said Albatross was about trusting yourself before you can trust your coven, which makes me think I’m my own worst enemy in here. It’s me versus my brain, my instincts, and they tell me…

Eyes narrowing on the face of the Easton before me, my stare falls, drifting down his robes and to the knives he carries.

Realization dawns, and it’s almost laughable how I’d missed it before.

I move towards the poorly spun ward, and Easton watches with a grim, menacing expression, straightening his shoulders and strengthening his stance.

As soon as I’m close enough, I sever the ward—the only protection I have.

Easton pounces, rearing his arm back, and I suck in a sharp breath as his blade comes down through the center of my chest.

It slides straight through my body like a passing ghost, his entire illusion disintegrating.