Mila paced a tight circle in her tower. The window was open—a cold wind coming in. Outside, a fine rain came down in a steady drizzle.

On the floor, a shattered teacup lay.

The readings were the same—always the same, no matter how she searched for them. The future was set. There was nothing she could do to change it.

She heard the door to her room open. She froze, looking towards it, seeing her lover.

“Darling,” she said, hesitating. “Everything is fine.”