Chloe's Death

Gray—the utterly ordinary kind of gray.

Like a sky under endless overcast clouds, neither clear nor gloomy, not something one would remember at first glance, yet not easy to forget at a glance either.

Valdis watched her open her eyes. Those gray eyes now faithfully reflected the layered outline of him.

For many years, the silk had always been a form of self-protection, keeping her from seeing too many things she should not see.

Now, that protection was no longer needed.

"I've seen myself die in prophecies," she said, her voice even softer than before.

"More than once. In more than one way."

"The first time was at the academy. I was fourteen, and I'd just begun practicing expanding my perception. I couldn't control it well, and too many things rushed in all at once."

"In those images, I died in all sorts of places... collapsed on an unknown road, sank in waters I'd never seen before, was killed in battle..."

"I was terrified back then." She recalled it with a trace of nostalgia. "I didn't even dare sleep alone at night."

"And after that?" Valdis asked.

"After that." Chloe's gray eyes shone clear. "I realized those images weren't telling me, 'You will die.'

"They were telling me, 'You will live—live until the second before those moments.'"

"So..."

"So every death was actually a path I had survived through. It was just one step farther than that path."

She picked up the cards again and began to shuffle, her movements steady once more.

"Lord Valdis, you spent thousands of years trapped in the overlay of every moment.

"You understand better than anyone that death is not a wall. It is a door."

"The scenery behind the door," he said in his old man's form, "may not necessarily be better than