A Scripta

Once he found the shield, Grim couldn't see his future any more. It wasn't very accurate in his opinion - he wouldn't have gotten hit by the car in Africa if it was. General things he was able to see, such as knowing he and Caden would bond together, Anwen would also have an aptitude for magic and art and steal his items to play with. He would have constant friction with the technomancers. He would find himself in a few physical fights with them. Dmitrius would taste his blood. Stefan would return, then leave for good. There wasn't much after that.

He also saw his end. It was blurry, so maybe the Fates hadn't finished weaving it yet. It was a long time to come, because he knew he would teach an older Caden and Anwen, and reluctantly Aysun in an attempt to turn her against her father.

Grim approached the chest, where the bottles of mages' essences sat. He had also seen himself take them, and saw how they fractured his mind. He already didn't feel like himself. He had insulted Petite, still accusing her of infidelity. He had hurt Aysun, and didn't feel any remorse. He told Rorri he didn't want anything to do with her, since she dealt with the technomancers. Mind you, they saved her life...

My hate will turn me black again, he thought, sitting in front the chest. He looked at the essences, of hero mages that had been taken by the Circle of Thorns. Mages who were taught by covens, like Skylite, or possibly learned on their own. Mages who weren't full of hate and mistrust.

Don't you see? I know what mages can do. I'm one of them! You can't trust them. They use people. I've used people.

Grim picked up one of the bottles. It was red, with gold swirls throughout. This one he knew was a pyromancer. His name was Fire Dancer, and he was Native American, proud of his heritage. Grim had seen himself drink it and remembered he almost lost his mind due to the sheer force of Fire Dancer. Fire Dancer was a real hero, Grim had looked him up on Google. He had looked up all of them. Fire Dancer had a thing against Tsoo. They called him Cub Tawg, The Furnace.

Grim went to put the bottle back, when something said in his mind, Not all mages are like you.

He stopped, stared at the bottle.

You put yourself on all mages.

"They're arrogant sons of bitches."

All of them?

"All the ones in the supposed Order. Except Astor." Astor helped him, gave him the immunity against their probes. He owed him his friendship. Plus he was hot when he wasn't in his robes. "All the girls have fallen for them."

That is not your concern.

"They let them in here! They trust them!"

"Who are you talking to, Grim?"

Grim turned, startled, and looked at Raina. He turned beet red and put the bottle back. "Myself."

Raina looked concernedly at him. "Are you okay?"

"No. But you can't help me."

He got up, dusting himself off.

"I can listen."

"Raina, it's the same old shit that I can't shake." He started walking out. "I'm tempted to ask Jack to mindwipe me."

"What?!"

"Do what he did to Petite, do it to me."

Raina said, her hands on her hips, "He won't do that, Grim."

He turned to Raina and smiled a little. "Wouldn't hurt to ask."