Page 61 of The Endless One

“What other stories are there?”

“The wheels of time move at different paces. In some realm, some timeline, a version of you was never killed at your wedding. You grew as old as you see now, and that was when you died peacefully in your bed. Other versions died very young. In one timeline, you choked as a child and no one was there to save you.”

A small memory flickered in her mind just as the swell of insecurities threatened to overwhelm her. Jessamine could feel herself physically shrinking, turning back into that little version of herself who hadn’t realized there were pits in peaches. She’d swallowed it whole, and it had gotten lodged in her throat. Callum had been there, then. He’d saved her life, making sure she coughed it up before he had pounded her back over and over again, to make sure that she was still alive.

She looked up, young once again, a child staring up at the oldest version of herself, and she had the thought that a woman of this age would take care of her. She could trust someone who was older, because they always had her best interest at heart. Even if she didn’t understand what they wanted her to do.

Reaching out her hand, she slipped her fingers against the wrinkled palm. Yes. This was right. Instantly all that anxiety disappeared, because someone was here to take care of her.

The old woman smiled down at her, and another nervous thread in her chest eased. “You’ve made the right choice, Jessamine. I will guide you through this realm, and we will bring you to the end.”

“What is the end?”

“It’s the place where you can finally rest your head. Where no one can take advantage of you ever again. All that magic of yours will finally be safe.”

Her magic would be safe? That sounded nice. It wasn’t just Jessamine who would be safe, then. It would be everyone else as well, safe from her. From all the wrongdoings that she had already done in this life. She was supposed to save her kingdom, but she’d failed at that, too. Her magic was dangerous… and someone might try to take it.

Alarm bells rang out in her head. And suddenly she wasn’t a child anymore.

She was enraged yet again.

It burned through her as she tossed the hand aside and took a step back. Her entire body seemed to vibrate with the knowledge that something was terribly, awfully wrong.

“Why would I need to keep my magic safe?” she snarled. “I’m dead.”

The old woman paused, looking down at her hand as though she was surprised Jessamine wasn’t still holding it. “All magic like yours has to be contained. Surely you didn’t think death was the only path for you to walk?”

“You have made it seem like that is so. Where are you taking me?”

“Home.” The old woman waved her hand, and the golden light shimmered, warped, and changed into a scene that Jessamine desperately wanted to walk into.

Her mother sat on a bench with her back to Jessamine. She’d recognize that hair anywhere. It was definitely her mother, seated in her garden as she always loved to be. Jessamine could smell the rose blossoms in the air, just like her mother always smelled because she spent so much time here. It was a scene right from her memories.

A strong, capable woman sitting in a garden, contemplating all the choices she would soon make to bring her kingdom into an era of prosperity and peace.

“Mother?” she choked, stepping forward as her entire body curved in on itself.

Suddenly, she was grief. Tears burned in her eyes, acknowledging all the loss that had happened in her life. Her mother was right there, within reach. All she had to do was stumble into that garden and she could finally, finally, see the only person she still mourned.

Her mother.

Some part of her wanted to lay her head in her mother’s lap and let her run her fingers through Jessamine’s hair like she had done so many times when she was little. She wanted to hear her mother say everything was going to be all right. That no matter how hard life had gotten, now she was going to be okay.

But then the woman in that garden tilted her head, just enough for the visage of her to flicker, just like the old woman’s had done. Her mother’s greatest beauty had been the hawklike nose that she stared down to intimidate people, but this woman’s nose was pert and tilted up at the end. Pretty and perky and not at all like the queen who had come before Jessamine.

Stumbling back, she felt her world tilt on its axis.

She had the realization that she wasn’t safe here. This wasn’t death, or if it was, then she was being chased through this realm by someone who wanted to convince her that she was safe.

But she wasn’t.

Jessamine turned her attention to the old woman at her side. “Who are you?”

“I am you.”

“No, you’re not.” Again, that flash of fear that she wasn’t safe. “I don’t know who you are, but you are not me. That much I am very certain of.”

“Jessamine, why would I be anything other than what you see? You are meant to see all versions of yourself before you pass into the afterlife. It is how the afterlife works. Come with me. Allow me to make this easier on you.”